#I HAVE. MORE TO TALK ABOUT BUT THIS IS MOST OF IT I THINK. HI. HI. STARING AT U. LETS TALK ABOUT WIWI DEATH FOR HOURS. ID LOVE UR THOUGHTS

[goatgoesmbe]

tw : sexual theme, stalking, 141 being a creep

A series : part 2 of Discord shenanigans

AO3

Word count: 2031

rated: E

Poly!141 x f!reader

The New Member

The server wasn’t meant for public in the first place.

It was just something quick Johnny made just to have a little corner to hang out when they were on leave.

They rarely used it at first, finding no reason to communicate outside of work, they were busy with their own life anyway.

That was, until Johnny started sending pictures of literally anything in his daily life. It started with scenery, dogs he saw during walks, and selfies. Soon enough, Simon joined in with his own blurry pictures, then Kyle’s award-worthy photography, and John who sent the most normal pictures of some nice views worth sharing.

Eventually, interacting through the server became so regular that they started using it when they got back on base too– They never talk about something confidential in it of course, they were still professionals after all.

The gaming session was Kyle’s idea (Well, actually it was Johnny but he couldn’t convince them to play among us), they started playing various FPS games before settling for the popular one.

Kyle played casually, Johnny played competitively (and sucked at it compared to the others), John played it rarely but was pretty decent at it, while Simon was effortlessly good at it (Which he was so smug about).

The members consisted of people they knew from their jobs, so imagine their surprise when there was a notification about a new member.

You.

They welcomed you in a friendly manner, showing no suspicion despite John telling Kyle to do a background check immediately. And oh do they like what they see.

Pretty thing that you are, messy hair, pouty lips, dark bags under your eyes that only made you look more adorable rather than off-putting, like a sleepy panda. You always wore comfortable clothes oversized shirts or hoodies on colder days while your legs were bare, sitting crosslegged in your gaming chair with a big plushie in your lap. Johnny wondered if you wore anything underneath which made them go silent. made them think.

Fuck.

It was illegal and immoral, but really– everything they had ever done was all of those things and more, so what’s a bit of hacking into the webcam of a bonnie thing like you? It was done for their own safety after all, keeping their secrets as members of a highly classified military task force. It was only normal for them to check for any individuals that got into their space. Just in case.

Sure, they could just drop it when they found out that you were just a harmless civilian, but they also learned that you were just a sweet thing.. they immediately took a liking to you, adored you, so of course they had to keep an eye on you because they wanted to make sure you were alright. Keeping a civilians safe was part of their job, right?

You live alone, which made sense as to why you have CCTVs around your place. Smart girl, looking after your security seriously. Adorable.

Was it creepy for them to have access to those CCTVs? They just cared about your safety is all, was it wrong?

Well, they didn’t really care if it was, they were in too deep already, addicted to watching you in your own world, from your pretty face looking adorable as you focused on the game you were playing, the chime of your giggle when Johnny sent something stupid, to the way those innocent eyes showed no suspicion when one of them slipped up.

“Not as bonnie as you ;)” Johnny sent one time.

“You don’t even know what i look like XD”

Fortunately, you were oblivious. But still, they need to be more careful in the future. Johnny had a limp the next day and his body was covered in marks that peeked from the t-shirt he wore. But from how he barely covered them and how he still had that smirk on his face, it looked like he would definitely do it again if it would have John sending Simon to punish him.

Watching you had become a group routine. When they weren’t in the same room, they just hopped on the hidden channel Johnny made just to ping each other whenever you were doing something that would pique their interest.

Kyle enjoyed watching you go about with your routine, waking up at noon, cooking up something simple for yourself before you lock into your PC to do your freelance job then hopped into video games. His favorite was when you did your skincare, hand went down to cup the bulge in his pants as he watched you putting on lotion all over your body. His eyes darkened at the thought of him doing it instead, sliding his hand up your legs, lathering them nicely, and perhaps sneaking an opportunity for a feel of your clothed pussy when he reached your inner thighs.

Johnny likes to watch your reaction whenever you two interact, relishing your flustered expression from his relentless flirting. He wondered if you would also be shy under him, squirming as you tried to hide your face while he took off your clothes. He would click his tongue as he pried your hands off your face and gripped both of your wrists in one hand before pinning them above your head, one knee lodged between your legs to prevent you from closing them.

John’s favorite part of your day was when you were working. Tongue peeking out slightly in concentration, your doe eyes shifted and looked sharper when you were focused. He was there when you were in an online meeting with your employer, even though noone noticed. As he watched you talk, he liked to imagine that you were working for him instead. Talking formally unlike how you usually were when you were talking to them, he imagined you calling him sir like how you called your current boss. The bastard that made you uncomfortable with the way he leered at you, making innuendos while you tried your best to keep the conversation professional. You poor thing, don’t worry, John will teach him a lesson or two about respecting you. And yes, he was a hypocrite since he was lazily pumping his shaft under the desk as he watched you doing your job.

Simon rarely said anything about it, but out of everyone in the server, he was a constant presence with how the view count never went below one. He wasn’t picky, he liked watching you doing anything, even when you were just sleeping, he’d fuck his fist messily at the view of you being so vulnerable and oblivious before shooting his cum all over the screen with your face displayed on it. He was the one who would ping the others to notify them when you were doing something he knew they would be interested in.

Like right now.

It had been a long week, you barely had time to do your hobby. Projects after project that got you awake until two am before a quick wink of rest until you had to wake up again at five. When you were looking forward to doing something fun but then finding yourself too tired to even play your favorite game. And then you’d feel bad for neglecting your hobby as you continued to be enslaved under capitalism.

You were tired, sleep-deprived, stressed, and pent-up. At times like this, you were glad that you worked from home. You couldn’t imagine yourself not snapping at people if you work in an office with coworkers. Couldn’t even find the energy to open the server these past few days since you didn’t want to interact with anyone.

So naturally, they would miss you. Naturally, they were very excited when Simon pinged all of them in the hidden channel.

The light in your room was dimmed, but they could see your figure just fine. Panting on the bed on your back, legs spread wide with your hand between them while your other hand was clutching a pillow which you use to hide your face. 

John growled, fingers twitching as he thought of taking it off you so he could see what kind of expression you were making. Instead, he gripped Kyle’s dick as the younger man rolled his hips with the Captain bottoming out in his ass as they were both settled on the couch.

Johnny pulled away from Simon’s cock with a lewd pop. “She could fit mair than that..” he panted before Simon shoved his dick back in the scot’s mouth, gloved hand gripping at his mohawk.

His words got them zeroed in on your cunt which was stuffed with your fingers deep to your knuckles. Wet squelching noises combined with your needy whines echoed around the rec room from the cheap speakers as the stream was displayed on the wall from the projector. Johnny was right, you could take more than that. And from the way you desperately bucked your hips as you moved your fingers that fast, they could tell that you wanted to take more either.

“Does she not have a fucking toy?” Kyle groaned as he jacked off with the same tempo as your fingers as he continued to move in John’s lap.

“No” Simon responded curtly. He would know, he was the one who always kept an eye on you more than anyone else after all.

He knew you didn’t have a partner and never brought anyone home. You rarely go out and when you do, you’ll be back soon enough. A quick trip to the grocery stores or some shops, as shown by the trackers he put in your phone. Low possibility of you seeking out to anyone. Perhaps it was odd for some people but he wasn’t complaining, because he was only willing to share you with the men he trusted his life with.

You rarely pleasure yourself either, which made a moment like this more special. At first, he expected you to whimper out someone’s name, a crush they didn’t know about perhaps. Fortunately, that never happened. You seem content with yourself like this, eyes closed as you focus on the way you curl your fingers and grind your palm against your clit.

But they could tell you wanted more. They agreed that you deserved more. They could give you more.

Your whole body tensed, a shudder rippled through your body as heat built in waves. Breath hitching as you gasped, soft at first before breaking into a moan, raw and unrestrained. Fingers clutching at your pillow, muscles tightening as pleasure peaked, your back arching instinctively.

A flush spread across your skin, a sheen of sweat caught the light. Eyes fluttered to a close, lips parted, as a final tremor coursed through your body before you melted into the afterglow, breathless and trembling.

Yet, your cunt still clenched around your fingers as you pulled them out, like it didn’t want to let them go, because you still wanted more. You whined, and they groaned at the expression on your face. Unsatisfied, but too tired to do anything about it.

After a moment of gathering your jumbled mind, you got up and headed to the bathroom for a shower. And while they knew it was impossible, they wished you had a camera there too.

As the men chased their own pleasures, they thought to themselves about how they could help. You were physically nowhere near them at the moment, and they didn’t want to scare you by being too upfront in the server. Didn’t want you to know what they had been doing behind your back.

The next day, an onslaught of sex toy ads kept popping up when you turned on your PC. It obviously pissed you off at first (especially with how one appeared when you share your screen during a work meeting), but eventually it made you consider getting one. And if you got a transfer to your bank account in the same amount you spent on it right after, if you received four dildos instead of one, they totally had nothing to do with it. Nope, they totally didn’t send you the exact copies of their cocks.

Next (soon)

A/N: I remember someone saying 'How are you gonna get a guy if you never leave your house' and this is my answer to that also, this series was supposed to be fun silly online friends story, so idk what happened here, I swear the story wrote itself I had nothing to do with it

open taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @sweetlike-sugarplum, @mordacioust, @boogeysmoth, @little-mini-me-world, @sxnshinebxcky, @lady-red-night-1234, @theycallmevalen, @z-wantstowrite

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromases with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromases together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as a the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[theroundbartable]

Little story time anecdote.

So, I have this friend. He's married now, deeply romantic... But he wasn't out for romance with everyone when we were younger. He had friendship plus relationships and everything. And he was very open about those, even those he cut off because the other end suddenly wanted the romance part as well. He's not aro, but the situation has aromantic undertones to it, I think.

Introducing me, aroace, sexually traumatized. I wasn't always good with jokes about sex. People often liked to get too close too quickly. My boundaries had been disrespected by strangers, friends and family alike. Still are at times. So whenever I talked to experienced people, people to who sex was a daily thing, a thing they would question you about whenever you met, I kept feeling pressured, awkward, insecure. I used to have to compromise in order to keep those friendships.

This guy, who's reputation wasn't even that great in our friend group (when he was in serious relationships, he'd disappear), came on to me once as well.

But the way he did it was perhaps the only time I've ever felt okay with it. Even when my fiancé makes jokes about it (she's aego), I often feel out of the loop.

Because it was casual, indirect ("I wouldn't mind if we'd end up in bed") it was a mere suggestion and as soon as I said no, he moved on and didn't bother me with it again. He wasn't offended, wasn't angry, didn't make awkward jokes even when I was. He treated it as a compliment and went on as normal.

I always have to fight for my 'no'. I always feel the need to justify myself.

He didn't ask for an explanation. He didn't patronize me. He treated the entire situation as the decision it was and he respected mine as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

It was not normal to me.

I think it isn't normal for most women either. His is the kind of behavior about sex I want normalized in my life. Both about sex and about romance. It was the most comfortable I've ever felt with someone who considered me attractive and who I still feel save with when we're alone.

No more: are you a lesbian? Why not come with me? Maybe another drink will change your mind.

It's a decision.

Only yes means yes. And you don't owe them justification for your no.

by the way, if you're weird about aromantic heterosexual cisgender men, i kill you. if that man wants a purely sexual relationship with a woman and communicates that with her, and she agrees, hell yes. good for them. you have no right to be a bitch about that. that's frankly none of your god damn business. he's not "emotionally abusive" for wanting a specific type of relationship. you're being stupid and weird. and weirdly misogynistic, by assuming that women are inherently these helpless victims that have no agency or autonomy.

you're literally being the "the myth of consensual sex" meme when you talk shit about cishet aro men in purely sexual relationships with women.

[munsonsmixtapes]

I Never Got to Say Goodbye

ex boyfriend!eddie x reader

You see Eddie over a year after your break up and you both realize that you never stopped loving each other

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex, hurt/comfort, angst, a guy gets handsy with reader

You sit at your vanity in your room, dreading to get ready. You don’t even want to go out, but you feel like you have no choice. Your friends are trying to get you to meet someone new but how can you when you’re still not over your ex? 

You’re not even sure why you broke up anymore and you’re wondering if he feels the same. If he lies awake playing your breakup over and over, wishing that you would have just stayed together. But you suppose it was just a “right person, wrong time” sort of thing, that it was more the situation than anything that led to your relationship ending. 

You put on your makeup and get dressed as you put on the mixtape that one of your roommates had made for you. You’re dancing around as get ready, loving every song that’s been put onto it. She knows you so well, knows exactly what you like. But then you freeze when the familiar guitar riff floats through your ears. 

“I can’t dance,” you tell Eddie as he guides you around your living room. He’s trying and failing to teach you how to dance but he’s just so determined to show you how. 

“Sure you can,” he says, turning up the volume of the stereo before taking your hands in his. He steps forward and you step back as he guides you through the moves, being so gentle with you like always. “Eyes on me, okay?” 

You nod and keep your eyes on his pretty brown ones as he slowly shows you the steps. You’re not even sure how he learned this but you love seeing the fluid steps and wonder how he does it so well. There’s just so much about him that you want to know and you hope you’re together long enough to find out every single thing about him.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your flashback and you’re quick to turn off the music before hurrying to answer it. Janet is on the other side, a bright smile plastered on her face like always. You know she’s waiting on your to finish so you all can leave and you’re actually kind of pissed at her for not at least letting you finish your flashback. 

You’ve been having a lot of those lately. It’s like your brain is trying to torture you with all of the memories because it knows just how much you’ve been missing Eddie. You miss him so much that it actually hurts. It’s to the point where it’s gotten so painful to think about but you don’t want the memories to stop.

You grab your purse and follow Janet and the other girls out the door. Luckily, the club is just down the street so you don’t have to hail a cab to get there. They’re all talking about finding someone to hook up with but of course, all you’re thinking about is your ex and how much he would have hated a place like this.

Being in that close proximity to strangers-drunk strangers at that-was his worst nightmare and the loud music was so overstimulating which you totally understood. It was something that he would always push through for you because of how much you loved it and now you know you’re going to miss having him by your side, whispering silly things into your ear and staring down any man who even looked at you. 

As the four of you get in line, Violet slips some condoms into your purse that you’re sure you’re not even going to need but you let her anyway. It’s easier not to put up a fight, especially when they’re all just trying to help. 

The club is newer and allegedly very hard to get into and as you look up at the name, you notice that it sounds very familiar, something you’ve heard a billion times but you’re sure that it’s not actually what you’re thinking of. 

“Ed’s?” You ask with a laugh. “That’s the name of a bar, Eddie, not a club. And why do you want to own a club anyway? That’s not exactly your scene.” 

“For you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I want you to have a place you can call your own, where you can make the decisions. You always complain about the music and the prices and now you’d be able to have whatever you want.” 

“You’re doing this for me?” You feel tears welling up in your eyes at the gesture, wondering how you got so lucky to have someone who cares that much about you. That pays that much attention and is willing to drop a bunch of money just so you could be happy. 

“I’d do anything for you, you know that,” he winks and your heart flutters. 

“Ed’s,” you nod, having a newfound love for the name. “I like it.” You lay your head on Eddie’s chest while he runs his fingers through your hair, your favorite lullaby. 

“I thought you might.” 

You’re thrown back into real life to the bouncer outside the club asking for your ID. When did you get to the front of the line? Did you really zone out of that long? 

You shake the thought away and pull your wallet out of your purse, retrieving your ID and handing it to him. Once he sees that you’re of age, he hands it back and you head inside. As you walk through the doors and take in everything, you still think about how familiar everything looks, almost as if you’ve seen it before. But it can’t be what you think it is…can it?

Your friends have separated from you yet again so you head to the bar for a much needed drink. As soon as you sit at the bar, you look around and see just how busy it is. The bartenders are working hard to stay on top of their orders and as much as you really want a drink, you’re willing to wait as long as you need to. 

You pick up the menu and look at the drinks, the deja vu coming over you again as the names all sound familiar. They’re based on metal songs, songs that you’ve heard so many times you could sing them from memory. 

They would all play so loudly in Eddie’s car as you’d drive around town, screaming the lyrics as loud as you could through giggles because you were just so happy to be around each other. 

You haven’t even been able to listen to any of them since the breakup because it just hurts too much. At first, you were only listening to them because of Eddie, but over time, you really grew to appreciate the genre and even started listening to them on your own. 

Eventually, one of the bartenders comes over to take your order and your mouth falls open as you make eye contact with him. You definitely must be hallucinating because he looks so much like Eddie. As you stare at him, taking in his features, his longer hair, his beard, and nose ring, his own eyes widen which causes you to believe that he is in fact real. 

The last you heard, he was in Chicago. What was he doing back in New York? And why hadn’t he told you? Oh, that’s right. He probably doesn’t have your number anymore and considering that you haven’t kept in contact, you don’t really deserve to know what’s going on in his life anymore. 

And that just kills you. You wonder how much about him has changed besides his appearance. He obviously still opened the club even though you aren’t together anymore. And it seems to be doing really well so you can’t help but feel your heart swell with pride. He got everything he ever wanted. And the stab to the chest is that he didn’t even need your help to do it. 

“What can I get for you?” He asks and now you don’t even want a drink. You want him to sit next to you while you tell each other everything that’s happened over the past year. You want to tell him just how much you fucking miss him. 

“Rum and Coke,” you reply and he smiles, loving to see that you’re still ordering the same drink. 

“You got it,” he nods and moves around the bar, fixing the drink. You watch him, staring at his back, wishing you could hug him from behind like you always used to do. He’d just laugh and turn around , wrapping his arms around you and giving you a squeeze. You miss everything about him, but you’re pretty sure you miss his hugs the most. They were always so tight and long, his favorite way to show you just how much he loved you. 

Loved. As in, past tense. You never stopped loving him but you’re not sure if he still loves you. Considering how he’s been treating you like every other customer, you don’t think he does. You almost want to just get up and leave but he sets your drink on the bar in front of you. 

“One rum and coke,” he says, wiping his hands off on a towel and you can’t even look him in the eye. It’s just too painful. 

Eddie can’t fucking believe that you’re here. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since you broke up, well, more specifically, that day and how much he regrets the whole thing. It still plays in his head on a loop, torturing him. What he would give to go back in time and beg you to stay.

“So what are you saying?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Surely you’re not suggesting what he thinks you are. No way are you breaking up with him. You just can’t be. You’ve been through far too much to just give up on each other.

“I’m saying that what’s the point of even being together if we can’t be together? We’re both always busy and we see each other once every few weeks. That’s not a relationship Eddie.” He knows your right, but he’s sure that you just need to push through and you’ll get through it just like the two of you have every time you’ve had something you needed to work through.

“So you want to break up?” He almost looks like he’s going to cry and you just can’t bear to look at him if he does. You don’t need this to be any harder than it already is.

“I didn’t say that…but I don’t see any other choice.” You’re both crying now and the whole thing is just pitiful, the two of you looking at each other with tears streaming down your faces, having a conversation you never thought you would. 

“No. No, we can make this work.” He’s taking your hands in his and as much as you love that he’s fighting for you, you know you just can’t keep going like this.

“How?” You ask and he reaches up and wipes your tears, resting his hands on your cheeks. This is one thing he just can’t fix and that breaks you.

“I don’t know. I guess maybe it’s for the best,” he shrugs, finally seeing it from your perspective. He feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest and he’s not entirely sure what he should do about it. You’re always there to fix things for him and the one time he really needs you, you’re not going to be there.

“I guess so,” you sniff, the two of you now breaking into sobs, knowing that things between the two of you will never be the same. 

You moved your stuff out of his apartment that week and you both cried the whole time, the pain all consuming as he helped you pack up your stuff, being his sweet self which just added salt to the wound. You broke up with him and he still helped you move your stuff, being nothing but a gentleman about the whole thing. 

He didn’t even beg you to stay or anything like you thought he would. He just silently helped you pack stuff into boxes then put it all in the truck you rented. All he did was cry, not even uttering a single word to you as he did so. 

He hasn’t seen you since that day and he has no idea how you got even more beautiful since then. You’re wearing a pretty silver dress and the biggest standout is that you’ve cut your hair. The short style looks good on you, but Eddie thinks that everything looks good on you. 

He doesn’t know how he ever let you slip through his fingers, who he let you move your stuff out of his apartment, why he even went as far as helping you pack everything up. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do but he felt like it was the right thing for both of you. 

But now that you’re here tonight, he’s wondering if it’s fate giving him a second chance. God, if he’s offered one, he’s going to take it. Just thinking about it, he feels the weight on his chest lifting, like everything finally makes sense again. 

You’re sipping on your drink so elegantly, giggling with a man who’s now occupying the stool to the left of you. You seem to be having a good time and now you’re holding Eddie’s heart in your hand, squeezing it as you continue to giggle with the man and he can feel it, his chest aching as he watches you slip through his fingers once again. 

But as he’s turning his back to help the other customers, he sees the man’s hand sliding up your thigh and something about watching this happen is making his skin crawl. Just thinking about this guy touching you like that makes him want to break every single one of his fingers, especially because of how uncomfortable you look. 

You’re trying to scoot away but don’t have the strength, the guy grabbing hold of your arm and holding you there so you’re unable to move. Even from your profile, he can see the fear in your eyes as you try to push him off. 

 Eddie’s had enough of this and rounds the bar, grabbing hold of the guy and pulling him off the stool. As soon as he looks the guy in the eyes, seeing that he’s not even phased tells Eddie that he does this a lot and that doesn’t sit right with him. He’s seen red now as he holds the guy by his shirt and he knows he really shouldn’t but before he can stop himself, he raises his fist and punches him square in the face before letting security take care of him. 

He shakes his fist afterwards because of the tingly feeling just as you’re throwing yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you bury your face into it. He doesn’t exactly know what’s going on, pretty sure that you’re trying to thank him, but he doesn’t need it. He did it because it was the right thing and honestly would have done it for anyone. 

You pull away and Eddie feels every part of him ache when he sees that you’re crying. He notices your face change, your eyes widen as you slip your arms from him, almost as if you think that you’ve made a mistake.  

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as you step away, quickly adjusting your dress before wiping your tears from your cheeks. There was a time where that was Eddie’s job but being chronically single since the breakup, you’ve learned to do it for yourself again 

“For what?” He asks, tilting his head to the side as he slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans to prevent from reaching out for you. 

“For hugging you,” you reply as if it’s obvious, but clearly it’s not since he’s still looking at you like a confused puppy. Has he always been this adorable? 

“Baby-” he cuts himself off, the nickname coming so naturally like it hasn't been months since he’s called you that. “You can hug me anytime you want. Especially after that.” 

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “This is just weird for me, I guess. I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here and I guess old feelings are just flooding back.” You’re chuckling awkwardly like you shouldn’t be saying it, but it’s honestly music to Eddie's ears.

Eddie’s brain short circuits as you finish speaking. Old feelings? So you don’t still love him. You don’t feel the same way as he does and that absolutely kills him. This whole thing has just become torture but he can’t get himself to walk away because he’s still wrapped around your goddamn finger. Some things just never change. 

“Well, I um-” you cut yourself off, now feeling flustered. “I should get back to my friends,” you jerk your thumb over your shoulder and Eddie couldn’t be more disappointed. He really wishes he had more time with you, realizing just how much he missed you now that you’re leaving again. If he doesn’t say something now, he’s going to be kicking himself for the rest of his life. 

“Wait,” he calls after you and you turn around, clearly caught off guard by him still having something to say. “I get off in about an hour. Do you want to…go somewhere?” 

“Eddie…” You look hesitant, almost caught off guard and now he’s trying to think of how he can backtrack since he’s clearly made you uncomfortable. 

“I just want to talk.” You think about it and Eddie can practically see the gears turning in your head. You want to, you really do, but there’s so much that you want to say that you probably shouldn’t. 

You want to tell him how much you miss him, how you miss being wrapped up in his arms, the way he’d squeeze you tight before the two of you fell asleep. You miss the humming that he did or the tv constantly playing on low volume in the background because he hates silence. 

You miss his kisses and even though it’s been over a year since your last one, you still vividly remember what his lips felt like. They were almost always chapped and he often tasted like the mint gum he chewed to cover up the tobacco for you. 

“Okay, yeah,” you nod, craving to be in his presence so badly. Being here with him now, all of that anxiety and dread you’ve been carrying around with you is gone, replaced with warmth that’s spreading throughout your body, the calm that always coursed through you when you were around him. For the first time in so long, you finally feel like you’re home. 

-

Eddie’s feeling clammy as he stands outside the club. He’s smoking a cigarette to help ease his anxiety but it’s not working. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to talk to you. Maybe because there’s so much uncertainty. There’s so much he wants to say and he’s unsure how you’re going to take it all. He wants to tell you just how much he misses you, how much he still loves you. It’s fucking breaking him being apart from you and when you left, he felt like he lost his purpose, his passion for everything gone with you in the moving truck. 

And the thing is, he doesn’t even blame you for leaving because what else were you supposed to do? That’s what happens when people break up. He just wishes he had gotten the chance to say goodbye since you made the decision to leave while he was at work. He got home and all of your stuff was gone, those cute little mugs you had collected over the years gone from the kitchen cabinet, your books that you would read to him every night before bed disappeared from his bookshelf along with everything else that you owned. 

Seeing you tonight made his feelings for you even stronger and now he can’t even fight them off like he usually does. They have to make themselves known, wanting Eddie to not deny them anymore. He guesses he can’t now and he honestly has no idea what he’s going to say to you without looking like a lovesick fool. 

So he just continues to smoke his cigarette until it’s gone, then reaches for his pack to get another one when you exit the club, giggling with your friends before saying goodbye to them and heading over to him. You’ve gotten even more beautiful since he last saw you a couple hours ago and it hurts so bad knowing that he can’t have you. After getting your closure, the two of you will go your separate ways and Eddie will go home to a bottle of tequila and put on the mixtape he made for you while he drinks until he cries himself to sleep. 

He’s pathetic and he knows it. He’s imagining you telling him that you miss him too then sharing a kiss that’s filled with fireworks. He really needs to get a grip and stop wishing for something that will never happen.

“So,” you speak up, standing there awkwardly as you fiddle with the strap of your purse in your hands. “Where are we going?” Eddie completely forgot to come up with a spot and now he’s panicking, saying the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Dina’s,” he says as he takes one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out underneath his boot. Your eyes widen at the name, memories flooding your mind of sitting in your favorite booth, the two of you giggling over pancakes and a milkshake with two straws. 

Eddie suggesting that place is like a stab to the gut, too painful to go there and try to relive the good memories of your failed relationship, but you think that maybe it won’t be too bad. 

“Dina’s, wow, I haven’t been there since-” you cut yourself off, wondering if this is even a good idea, talking things over with your ex, bringing up the past as you both mourn what could have been. You’re just not sure if you should be doing this. Maybe it’s not too late to catch a cab and go home.

“Since our anniversary,” Eddie finishes, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, seeing that you’re not wearing one, your shoulders bare, your arms wrapping tighter around your body to try and warm yourself up but it’s not working. It’s taking everything in him not to give you the jacket right off his back but he knows you won’t take it, too stubborn like always. 

“Right,” you nod, knowing that this will be nothing like that. It will just be an awkward and painful conversation that you really wished you hadn’t agreed to. You have tried so hard not to think about Eddie, pushing out every single thought you’ve had but there is always going to be little pieces of him sprinkled into your life. Whether you like it or not, there’s always going to be something that reminds you of him, taking you back to that painful place where you left him as you moved out that day. 

Eddie leads you to his van and you can’t help but feel like this is a date. You wish it was, though. Maybe you’ll be able to turn everything around and he’ll be your boyfriend again. Or your friend at the very least. 

He opens the passenger door like he always used to and helps you into the van and it’s just like old times. You look around the van as he rounds the hood and it looks exactly the same, the stickers that have been on the dash since you’ve known him are still there, even the ones you gave him. 

They’re curling up at the edges, the adhesive wearing off, but that only means that he’s loved them so much that they’ve been there a while. You run your fingers over them as Eddie gets into the driver’s seat, watching you from where he’s sitting with a smile that’s filled with admiration. 

He starts up the van and catches you singing along to the next song on the tape he’s got in. It’s the last one you made for him that he plays in a loop because apparently he loves to torture himself. It’s got his name written across it in your handwriting with sloppily drawn hearts all over it. 

He can’t keep that stupid smile off of his face and joins you, both of you laughing through your duet as if no time has passed. Things are so different now but one thing you at least know for sure is that Eddie still loves ABBA. 

You sing the rest of the song, your laughter fading away as another one starts and now it’s just awkward silence. Neither of you know what to say even though you unknowingly still love each other. If only the two of you could get over your anxiety and just say it already. 

But you can’t. You won’t. You already hurt him once and you’re not going to do it again. He’s doing so well and you’re not going to stumble into his life and claim your have feelings for him when he’s definitely over you. 

If only you could see how lovesick Eddie still is. If only you could get back all the cobwebs that have gathered in your past and see the future that’s right in front of you. Eddie is still as head over heels for you as he’s always been. He never stopped loving you even when everything went to shit. He’s tried, god, he’s tried. He’s wanted to forget you, but you’re always still there, stuck in his mind forever. 

He pulls up to the restaurant and you’re thrown back in time again, another flashback that you can’t seem to escape as much as you want to. You remember the tender touches of your hands across the table and the loving stares and now you’re just sitting across from each other like two people on a blind date. 

You hate that you still remember your exact orders even though you haven’t even thought about this place since the last time you sat in this very booth. His hand is resting on the table as he looks at the menus and god, you just want to reach for it, to know if they’re as rough as you remember. You hope he still uses that lotion you always used to buy him. 

He’s sitting there, looking so pretty with his hair tucked behind one ear, moving an unlit cigarette between his fingers that’s always been a nervous habit. You hate that he’s nervous but you completely understand why. This is uncharted territory. You’re completely different people now and this whole thing was completely unplanned. 

You mimic him and look at your own menu but you’re not even hungry. You’re actually feeling sick thinking about why you’re actually here. You’re nervous as shit to have this conversation. You just know he’s going to break your heart and you suppose you can’t even be upset with him since you deserve it for leaving him all that time ago without even so much a goodbye. But the thing is, you actually actually left because you were terrified to see the look on his face so you fled to avoid the pain of seeing how heartbroken he was. 

“So,” he says, taking a deep sigh as he sets his menu on the table, looking you in the eyes as he does so. 

“So,” you repeat in the same fashion and furrow your eyebrows when he brings his hands up to cover his face, scrubbing at his eyes. He then slaps his hands onto the table which startles you, looking at you with that fire that you’ve missed the entire night. 

“I’ve gotta be honest,” he says, his gaze still burning into yours. “I’ve missed you. Like, so much that I can’t even stand it.” He knows that it’s rushed and that he probably sounds crazy and eyes widen at his confession, he’s terrified that he’s scaring you away. God, he’s driving you away again, fucking up one more time before you leave his life for good. He just can’t seem to get it right. 

Before he can even finish his speech that he’s been writing in his head for months because in the blink of an eye, you’re sitting right next to him, a goofy but adorable grin on your face. He has no idea what’s going on but he sure as hell isn’t going to deny you being in such close proximity to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he replies, nervous all over again because even though you’re smiling at him, he can’t help but feel iscared that you’re going to slip through his fingers. “I-I don’t know why I said that. I just-”

“Eddie,” you cut him off, your hands cradling his cheeks like they used to and his eyes widen as he stares at you, wondering what you’re going to do next. 

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice small for the first time tonight. 

“Will you please just shut up?” You ask before pressing your lips to his, pouring out all of your repressed emotions for the past year pouring into it and you don’t even care that you’re crying. You just need this and apparently Eddie does too because his arms are wrapped tightly around you, his own tears trailing down his cheeks as he involuntarily whimpers against your lips. 

This is the best way he’s ever been shut up in his life and it’s crazy to him just quickly you’re both able to do this after so long, picking it up like it’s nothing. It gets progressively more hungry and as you’re sticking your tongue into his mouth, you suddenly realize where you are, deciding that you can’t exactly do what you’re doing here. So you stand from the table and offer him your hand which he gladly takes. 

You’re both out the door in a flash and as soon as you’re heading down the alley between the diner and the other building, you’re pulling Eddie into the dark, pressing yourself to the wall as your lips find his again, somehow even more hungry than before. You’re both crying again but you’re too caught up in your need for each other to be embarrassed. 

His hands are sliding up your dress as he kisses down to your, nipping at whatever skin he’s able to get his teeth on as he goes. It starts off as gentle kisses as he murmurs the words “I missed you” against your skin but it gets progressively more intense as he begins to suck on your skin, making your brain feel fuzzy. 

“I missed you too,” you moan as he pushes you gently against the wall. He’s pulling down your thong and you let him despite being so out of practice that you’ve felt so nervous about sleeping with anyone else. Being with Eddie, though, just feels so right. 

You unbutton his jeans and pull them down with his underwear, so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even notice that he’s slid himself inside you, both of you grunting at the tight fit.  

He’s moving slowly at first but progressively gets faster, missing the feeling of being inside you, missing the way you moan, the way you grab onto him, scratching up any part of him you can get your hands on, missing you. God has he missed you. It feels so right being here with you now.

He’s moving so fast, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pumps and pumps, his lips finding yours again, biting down on your bottom lip as another moan slips past your lips. It’s loud and he’s eating it up, wondering how much more he can get out of you before you’re absolutely spent. 

You’re close already but to see how long you can hold out. You’ve gone so long without him between your legs that it doesn’t take much for you to orgasm, to completely undone as he bottoms out inside you. He’s still going as you whine his name, pumping in and out, in and out until he reaches his own orgasm, moaning so loudly that you’re almost concerned that someone is going to hear him. 

The words “I love you” fall from his lips and you melt when you hear them, so happy that he still feels the same way, that the love you have for each other has never faded. You’re both smiling now as you pull him into another kiss, mumbling the words back to him against his lips. A laugh escapes his lips as he pulls away and he picks you up and spins you around. He’s the happiest he’s been in so long. 

“C’mon, angel,” he says, grabbing hold of your hand and leading you back to his van that’s around the corner. “Let’s go home.”

[yuurei20]

Summarized transcript of the Twisted Radio episode with Diasomnia! 🐉🦇⚔️⚡️

Highlights: A very good episode, all the Diasomnia VAs love their characters and each other’s characters and each other and it is very obvious when they interact.

Disclaimer: These are not direct quotes, this is all general summarizations and paraphrasing~

Begins with how they are happy to be all together in one place, for the first time in two years.

The opening talk set by last week: what do you find yourself buying when you travel?

⚡️It seems 🦦-kun wanted to buy a dragon sword… 🐉 I’ve bought one before. 🦇 Why wwww 🐉 In elementary school

On topic: 🐉 I love milk. Every time I go some place I buy milk to drink. A recent musical I was in traveled nationwide and the milk in Hokkaido is different depending upon the area. I was so happy.

🦇I like to get things to remind me of the trip. It doesn’t matter what they are. It doesn’t even have to be related to the area. Just a prize from a Game Center or a gacha toy or anything is fine.

⚔️ Dragons. Apparently they’re growing in popularity. 

He talks about how around high school everyone loses interest, but then you become an adult and are like “actually yeah dragons are great” ww

🦇 We should get on that bandwagon. Officially recognized by Diasomnia ww ⚔️ We have the most noble and beautiful dragon of them all 🦇 Out of all the dragons that there are, he certainly stands out

(Everyone is laughing so much they are having so much fun)

⚡️I like getting fruit or something that was made from things grown in the area, even if it’s temporary, to remember the taste

(⚡️ is the host so it is his job to keep them on subject ww there are a lot of cuts in this episode, they must have talked for so long and needed to cut it down)

Fan letter: I had a dream where I talked about how wonderful Malleus-sama is for ten hours. What strange dreams have you had before?

⚡️I have been seeing the same dream since I was a kid. A kind of horror dream. The same dream where I am being chased by something. 

⚔️ There are dreams I had as a kid that really left an impression on me. I remember them pretty well. Like one where I became a character from a cartoon that could fly. I became one of the main characters. An enemy would appear, someone would say “Let’s go!” and they’d all naturally start to fly. And even though I was a main character, I’d say “Let’s go!” and I was the only one who wouldn’t be able to fly. Everyone else flew off and I couldn’t. I was the main character and they all left me behind. I started crying that I couldn’t fly and then I woke up.

🦇 I’ve had a dream about situation where I could fly, too. Even though I could fly, when I jumped from somewhere high up instead of going straight I would go fly upwards, then think, “Yeah, I can fly,” and that is when I could go forward. I perform safety checks within my dream.

🐉 In a dream I had in university I could fly, but just some light floating. Everyone else travels very quickly, and at first I can as well, but then I get lower and lower, and soon I am floating about 5cm. I’m technically flying, but…I saw that dream a lot.

(This entire story ⚔️ is in the background dying of laughter)

About Malleus

He was very mysterious when he first appeared. ⚡️ says he had the feeling from the start that he was a very good character. 

🦇 He had an atmosphere of someone who is difficult to go near.

⚔️ I like Malleus-sama even more now than I did before. Not just what about him that is firm but his soft side, his warm side, his cold side—we can see so many aspects of his character now, which has made him even more captivating. Because he is so mysterious something even more wonderful than what I had imagined has emerged—that is the impression I have of him now.

🦇 They did a great job with his casting. I didn’t really know anything at first, but doing this for so long, you can tell how perfect 🐉-kun is for this part. 

🐉 I’m so happy :D

🦇 Of course everyone wants to know more in the beginning because of his cool voice, but 🐉-kun has a kindness to him. And that is what I came to understand. They took that into account when they chose him. When I figured that out, I was extremely impressed. This isn’t something that just anyone can do. It’s not enough to just provide a cool character voice. It’s a distinct charm that he has.

⚔️ The character is really packed with substance, but there’s still space left, and you can sense that mysteriousness. Because there is so much going on inside of him there are things for you to grasp at while simultaneously stirring your imagination. I really sense that.

🦇 When you try to think of other seiyuu like that, no one really comes to mind. It has to be 🐉-kun.

🐉 Is it okay if I start to cry?

⚔️ And when he sings…

⚡️ That humming…

⚔️ That was amazing.

🐉 That was so hard to do. They told me, “please hum like you mean it,” and I thought, “what is humming that you mean?” Humming that follows a melody, that becomes a sound. I had never done that before. It was really hard. We tried several different patterns.

⚔️ It was scary. Both an ending and a beginning.

🦇 But as the story continues I find him cute, too. And 🐉-kun is cute, too.

(Everyone is laughing, I think ⚔️ is going to die here)

🦇 No I’m serious, really, really. 

🐉 While portraying Malleus the difficult thing is always not showing too much emotion,.The direction I am always receiving is “you can’t become human.” They’ll say, “that take sounded just like a regular guy.” The balance of how his normal is not normal for a human is always hard to do. And post-overblot Malleus—they’ll tell me, “Sorry, but Malleus sounds kind of scary.” I often get told “can you control the darkness a bit.” But through all that how do I still portray Malleus-ness…

🦇 The more you read for a character the more you come to understand them, but Malleus was last.

🐉 There was a lot of uncertainty in the beginning. I have concluded that he is cute. He’s a child. He’s been alive longer than the others, but his emotional state hasn’t caught up to that. He has so much power, but he lacks the normal concept of common sense. Things that are common sense to him are not so to others. I am always trying to portray that unusual dichotomy.

⚔️ talks about being able to see Malleus grow up in Book 7 through the different milestones were see in the flashbacks. There are places where he has always been the same but parts about him that have evolved. ⚔️ tells 🐉 that it seems like that must have been hard.

🐉 It was so hard.  I think there’s probably a way of interacting with Malleus that's in line with how he understands things, even though I don't fully understand it. When encountering him for the first time, people around him might think, 'Wow, he doesn’t react at all!' But Malleus does react in his own way. I would receive many detailed directions like 'Please be surprised!' or 'Please react!' I didn’t create this performance all by myself, it has come together from the efforts of the staff, and I’m really grateful for that. I tend to lose track of what was the right way to approach things as Malleus. You can get confused between doing events and the main story, so getting back into the right mindset every time is pretty tough.

About Silver

🐉 I thought he was really cool when I saw him the first time.

⚡️ I think it’s cute how he falls asleep—he’ll wake up, apologize, and then immediately sleep again.

🦇 He’s really pretty.

🐉 I thought he had a beautiful face the first time I saw him.

⚔️ My portrayal of him hasn’t really changed since the beginning. We’ve gotten more information and there is more of a backbone now, and of course things change when new things are revealed. Even from the beginning he wasn’t just a cool character, he had a naturalness to him, and not just that he spaces out, but he tries to solve his problems with physical strength. Like in Book 7 with “if I hit it that will fix it.” I think his humanity is being expressed more these days.

🦇 It took a while, yeah?

⚔️ It took so long.

🦇 It took us a while to get to Malleus, too, but he had the impact of his first appearance. Silver didn’t have anything.

Now they’re talking about Lilia’s farewell party and Malleus and Silver crying together and not knowing how to express their emotions. Trying to be mature. 

⚔️ He’s being a big brother to Silver!!

🦇 I figured something was coming soon, after that. And it went in an intense direction.

⚔️ There is so much about them that is a family. Father is Lilia, and Malleus-sama has a big-brother nature to him.

🐉 You really feel their familial relationship.

⚔️ He felt some responsibility. If the little brother starts to cry, the older brother—

🐉 He can’t cry.

⚔️ He’ll get desperate to try and be strong and try to solve the problem.

🐉 Like he has to step up.

🦇 So it was Silver’s fault.

⚡️⚔️🐉wwwwww

⚔️Not all of it. Silver would never say this, but the reason things became so difficult for the two of them is…their love for their father.

🦇 Sebek and Silver are a good combination, too.

⚔️ Such a good combination~~~

🦇 They’re complete opposites but they’re also surprisingly similar.

⚡️They’re both so honest.

🐉 They’re honest and serious and good kids, both of them.

⚡️ They never had the opportunity to show emotion like that until 7. They are both very quick to cry.

🐉 They’re so much alike.

⚡️I guess this is what happens when you’re raised together with someone. I think Silver is the older brother, looking from Sebek’s perspective. There is a moment where Sebek is scolded for the first time. In the moment, when I was reading, ⚔️’s portrayal really is angry. I even said it, “He finally scolded him for the first time.”

About Sebek

⚡️I think he empowers himself by speaking so loudly. Once he decides on doing something, he goes straight for it, true to his unique magic. With how strongly he sticks to his principles it’s like he could overcome any obstacle, like in that scene he had with Silver, but it was very cute that he actually loses there.

⚔️THAT WAS SO CUTE. That was a great part. 

(⚔️ is literally yelling into his mic about how cute Sebek is)

⚡️The fact that he was able to get out the words he really wanted to say after he lost the fight shows that he does want to say what is on his mind but there is a wall that he has to break down, and then he can move forward. That is a moment where you can really understand Sebek-kun’s feelings. And once he lets his emotions out, they’re out w

🐉 He can’t put the lid back on. Everything spills out.

⚔️ (dying in the background)

⚡️talks about how much effort Sebek puts into everything and he reads so much and there is so much he wants people to know, which is why he is so loud.

🦇Sebek and Silver have both had a lot more lines recently. Doesn’t your voice get worn out during recordings?

⚡️It doesn’t! I do stretches and things before recordings. I figured out that I need that kind of physical exercise to prepare.

About Lilia

⚡️ Mom.

🐉 A cute mom.

⚡️There was a lot of gaps* in 7.

*I can’t figure out a good way to say this in English. It is the difference between what you expect and what something really is.

🐉 Too many gaps, it was so surprising.

🦇 I had heard nothing about any of that.

⚡️ I had an image of him as someone who is gentle and cute and a senpai who enjoys pranks and looks out for others…

🦇 He used to be completely different.

⚡️And there was egg-sama.

🐉 Egg-sama w

⚡️⚔️It’s not inaccurate.

🦇 I have done a lot of crying scenes before. When you first look at the script it hits you, and when you think about how you have to portray what you just read so that the people listening to your performance feel the same emotion—there is a pressure to that. I can’t be the only one crying. I have to make others cry.

⚔️ Something that 🦇-san said (during the special talk show that 🦇 and 🐉 did together last year talking about Book 7 just the two of them) that I really liked and wanted to ask about: You and Baul’s VA Koyasu-san (🐊) have been performing together a lot over the years. And you came back together for the first time in a while for this. You said that you didn’t want to give him the impression of “So this is what 🦇 is like these days.” So there was that pressure, you didn’t want to give an embarrassing performance in front of him, and I realized that you have a passionate spirit that you don’t really show, in my opinion—but it’s there! I got really excited about that.

🐉 I was surprised, too, that even 🦇-san has those same thoughts.

⚡️Same!

🦇 Of course I do. The pressure was intense. I am glad that we were able to record together, but…

And with the Chapter 13 release announcement they say they have permission to share this information:

🦇 and 🐉 were able to record together!

🐉 It was amazing. It was truly an amazing time for me.

🦇 It was our first time performing together.

Upcoming calendar review~ and done!

[venusalexian]

solet • let me do this for you

part 1

barça femení x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader

in which you finally let someone in, and Alexia accepts that she’ll be having a bigger role in your life than she first expected

Ale had driven you to the grounds this morning, as she tends to do now if she has a free day when you have a game. You were so excited for this game. Your grandpa had recuperated well from his surgery, even if he now needed some extra care, and Ale’s presence in your life had become a constant. You couldn’t believe this was your life now.

You went into the game eager to win, to score, to lead. By half time, you had scored once and provided an assist. You were on fire, but everything changed when you stepped into the tunnel and Ale was waiting for you, a worried frown in her face.

“Solet, I need you to stay calm while I tell you this, okay?.” She said. “Your neighbor called, they’ve had to take your grandma into the hospital because she fainted. They firmly believe she’s going to be okay. I will drive you to the hospital right now if that’s what you want.” You can’t believe she’s even doubting it. There is no way you’re making it back out into the pitch now.

“Please Ale, let’s go.” You rush to the locker room to get your things and run all the way to Ale’s car, impatient.

“It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” Ale says as she lays her free hand on your arm, the other on the steering wheel.

You really want to believe her, but you don’t really think she has the ability to fulfill this one. You don’t respond. You just lay your head against the window and let its coldness ground you to reality.

As soon as you get to the waiting room you make a beeline for your grandfather, who sits in a corner. He’s recuperated from his surgery, but he still can’t stand for long periods of time and needs help remembering to take his meds.  You break down as soon as you’re in his arms.

”Oh, mi niña, everything’s gonna be okay. She was awake when they got her into the ambulance. It was just a big scare, but she’s going to be okay.”

You nod against his chest but don’t detach from his hold. You won’t believe it until you see her with your own eyes and doctors confirm it, but you appreciate the comfort of his words. You turn a bit to look to your left. Ale is talking with your neighbor. She has her capitana face on. That relaxes you further.

You hate how unhelpful you’re being. You should be more composed, asking questions, making sure your grandpa is also okay, planning for any contingencies that might come from this incident. But you can only cling, and cry, like a child. So you’re happy to see that Ale has taken control of the situation, because at least somebody has. You’ve been trusting her with more of yourself and your life over the past months, and you’re so, so glad about it now. She looks over at you, and you know she understands what it means to you. The guilt of your impotence stays, but the pressure eases and you let yourself just fall.

Alexia is looking at you and seeing a kid. A strong, resilient kid. But a kid. So she takes charge, and she accepts that caring for you is coming more naturally to her every day. And as she waits with you for news about your grandma, she gradually also accepts the role she wants to play in your life. More than she’d let herself in the past, more than she’s ever said out loud.

“So… Why are the kids talking about you adopting another kid?” Marta approached Alexia with a massive smirk at the end of training.

“Yeah Ale, I thought you’d at least talk to me before you got a kid outside of this team.” Oh, Irene was having too much fun with this conversation.

“First of all, there is no another, I don’t have any kids, period.” A chorus of ‘hey’ and ‘rude’ was heard from the other side of the room, most notably (and loudest) by Vicky and Jana. Alexia just rolled her eyes. Apparently, the whole team was a part of the conversation now. “And secondly, I have not adopted a kid. I’m just… mentoring.”

“Mentoring? Is that what they call it now? Mentoring is driving a kid to and from practice?” Jana continued teasing her.

Alexia had gotten into the habit of driving you when she could especially to and from late night practices, thinking that it was much too late for you to be out taking public transportation.

“Or staying to watch those practices?” followed Sydney, who’s joking character was coming more and more out as she became more comfortable with the first team.

Now, Alexia knew how to perfectly justify this one.

“I am captain of this team, I have a duty to check in with the B team and source for talent.” she answered, feeling smug.

“Oh, and is having Sunday lunch with her and her family a form of recruitment?” added Vicky, who had become closer with the teen and had taken to chatting with her on occasion.

Alexia actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. She had taken your grandmother’s invitation a couple of time when you had Sunday morning games and she had a free weekend. She loved getting to know you more by spending time with you and your grandparents. And although she thought you pressured yourself too much, she saw herself reflected in your protectiveness, diligence and sense of responsibility toward your family and team.

“Better yet. Why did your girlfriend text me asking if I could give her more information about the kid because she wants to make a good impression when you bring her over for Sunday dinner at your mom’s this weekend?” added Ingrid.

Alexia muttered “traitor” as the locking room erupted in chaos. Everyone knows how much it means for their protective and family-oriented captain to introduce people to her family.

“Okay, enough. I care about her, yes. And she doesn’t have too many people on her corner, so I decided to become one.”

Everyone softened at that, understanding the importance and vulnerability of the statement.

“Now, no more social chit-chat about my life or you’re all running three times as much before practice.”

The soft expressions were replaced with groans, complaints and the occasional soft object thrown at her. Oh how she loves her fútbol family.

Your neighbor has had to leave; she has her own family to care for. So it’s just you, your grandpa, and Ale. Each sitting on a seat to your side. The doctor comes out after a half hour of waiting. The good news is that she’s okay, she’s awake, and there is nothing life-threatening. It feels like a toll has been lifted off your shoulders. But then he continues: it was a big fall, a symptom of an underlying heart condition. It means more medication and the possibility for this to happen again or other bad things. You feel dizzy again. You only hear bits and pieces of the rest: needs more monitorization, will need more constant care for a couple of weeks, she’s gonna stay overnight, you’ll be able to see her soon. You cling to the last part to stay in touch with reality.

Ale sees you drowning, so she asks, “Do you trust me to help, to take over now and help you through this? Let me do this for you?”

You nod. You need her to. You don’t even have any space in your worrying to overthink what this means or why she’s willing to do all this for you. You need her now, and the rest will come when everything’s more calm.

“I’m gonna make a few calls, okay? Can I tell a couple of people what is going on? The girls, mami and Olga are all worried. I won’t say much, just a quick update, okay?”

You nod again. You haven’t uttered a word since you got into Ale’s car. You can’t. So when she nods back, you hide your face in your grandpa’s chest again. You try to distract yourself with happier memories until you can see your grandma again. Thinking of her still hurts, so you focus on your team, your friends, and the people in Ale’s life you’ve met in the past weeks.

You felt dizzy from anticipation. You kept bouncing your leg in the passenger seat, and checking your outfit on the rear-view mirror. Ale noticed your fidgeting and laid her free hand on your shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” her eyes didn’t stray from the road but you noticed her half-grimace. Ale is not the best at not asking obvious questions, but you know it’s because she doesn’t know how to start the conversation otherwise.

“Yeah, I just…” you also grimaced, feeling like a little kid. “I want them to like me.” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oh, solet. They will. Mami is a natural caretaker, she’ll take you under her wing immediately. And Alba and Olga will just love having one more person to team up with against me.” Ale rolled her eyes, fondly.

She exudes a different type of softness when she talks about the women in her life, even when she fakes being annoyed at their antics. Her response calmed you, though.

Ale was absolutely right, of course.

As soon as you entered Ale’s home, her mom was giving you a massive hug and when she pulled away, she told you how beautiful you are and that she was really excited to meet you. You were blushing again. She hugged her daughter next, and then motioned for you both to go to the living room while she finished cooking. You offered to help, and you were rewarded with a wide smile and a pinch to your cheek. Ale got a quip that “she ought to keep her instead of her daughters if she keeps this helpfulness up”.

You’re still flushed when you reached the living room with Ale to find her sister and girlfriend sitting at the table in conversation. They stood up when you entered the room. Her sister moved to you, hugged you and introduced herself. You opened your mouth to do the same but she interrupted before you could utter a word.

“Oh, I know who you are. Ale won’t shut up about you.” You both turned to her, but she was too busy kissing her girlfriend to notice. Alba covered your eyes and shouted. “Women, not in front of the kid!”

You smiled as Alba moved away her hand and smiled back at you, all nerves forgotten by now, replaced by warmth. Ale and Olga were walking towards you both now, Ale’s hand on the small of her back. Olga hugged you, and her smile was just as warm and soft as Ale’s. 

“Yeah, Ale hasn’t shut up about you. We’re all really excited to meet her mini-me.” And there you were, blushing again. Had Ale really referred to you like that? Before you could ask, Ale’s mom called the four of you to finishing setting up as dinner was ready.

Conversation during dinner flowed. Ale was right, you had nothing to worry about and the night went perfectly. They all asked about you, eager to get to know you better. Alba and Olga did use your presence to rile Ale up. They shared embarrassing stories as she blushed and covered her face.

“I’ll lose my tough captain facade, stop.”

“You never had one to begin with, Ale”

By the time dinner ends, you couldn’t even believe you had been so nervous to meet them. Ale and Olga offered to drive you home. As you and Olga waited for Ale to finalize some arrangement with her mom, she put her arm around you, as the night had unexpectedly cooled and neither of you had come dressed for it. You basked in the comfort of her warmth and touch.

“I’m so glad Ale brough you over.” You looked up to the older woman, her smile exactly like Ale’s. “She is right, you know? You’re such a solet. I’m so glad you have each other.” Before you could respond, Ale was ushering you both inside the car and the motion of the road and the fullness from dinner lulled you to sleep. You miss their smile at your sleeping form, and their unspoken understanding of their care for you.

By the time Alexia finishes texting and calling, she has a plan. Alexia does well with plans, likes to prepare for things. But she has to talk to your grandparents first, and she doesn’t know how that conversation is going to go. Alexia is also quick on her feet, though, and works with what’s given. Knows how to fight for what she thinks is right.

It doesn't take long for a nurse to come by and lead the three of you to your grandma’s room. You cry again when you see she’s okay. You can’t cling to her like you did with your grandpa, so you’re content to sit by her side and hold her hand while she asks questions about the game, and you do your best to respond to her. Your words are stilted, but Ale and your grandpa smile because it’s the most you’ve spoken in hours.

After some more assurances, your grandma convinces you to go down to the cafeteria with your grandpa to have dinner. You’re hesitant to comply, but both her and Ale reassure you and don’t accept no for an answer. You give them one last glance to reassure yourself everything is okay befor eyou leave the room.

Alexia is nervous to be left alone with your grandma. She needs to start the conversation she knows is coming and despite the encouragement from her family, she isn’t sure to be ready for it. She doesn’t have to be, though, because your grandma beats her to it.

“She needs you.” There’s a heavy silence that follows; Alexia doesn’t know how to respond.

“She needs you because she’s a kid but doesn’t accept it. We both know that this incident means that both I and my husband need more help than she should be burdened by. She’s stretched thin enough, she already does too much. We want her to have fun, be a kid, a student, a footballer. Not a nurse, or a caretaker. She can’t do that if she’s constantly worried about us. And I know you know all this.”

Alexia stands seriously and silently and measures her words before speaking. She knows what’s next, but this is not her family, she doesn’t want to overstep. But if directly asked for her input, she’ll do it. She’ll take care of everything. For you. 

“I do, yeah.”

“We need that kind of help but it can’t come from her. So will you help? I’ve seen you grow closer to her, she admires you so much, relishes your attention and care. If we ask you for it, if she agrees, are you ready for this?”

Alexia doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

She can see the tension leave your grandma.

“Good. Now we can talk specifics. What’s your plan? Tell me and then we can tell her together.”

In the morning after you, Ale and your grandpa went home to sleep –Ale taking the couch even if you insisted on her taking the bed–, it’s Ale also who drives back to the hospital and brings your grandma home when she’s released. All four of you sit in the living room and when you try to fuss over your grandma, all three of them reassure you she’s okay.

“Mi vida, we have something to discuss.” Your grandma starts, and you squirm, uncomfortable at being out of loop.

“Alexia and us have a proposal for you, mi niña. We’ll do only what you want us to, but we think this is the best for all of us, and especially you.” You don’t respond to your grandpa, just nod, the anticipation driving you crazy. Your grandma takes over the conversation again.

“We love you so much, mi vida. We love how kind you are, how responsible, and how much you care for us. But your grandpa and I need more help, and we want you to not be burdened by it.” You’re about to protest –they’re not a burden, would never be, you love them and you’ll always care for them–but Ale stops you.

“Ssh, solet, listen to what we have to say first, okay?” You nod again instead of responding.

“So remember when I made a few calls yesterday at the hospital? I set up a couple of things. First, there is a home-care medical team that will be taking care of your grandparents from now on. They’re the best, but we still get to pick who’s going to be coming to stay with them for continued care. You’ll be part of that decision too.”

You exhale, thankful that Ale took over arranging this service. Deep down, you know that even if you would have tried your hardest, your grandparents need specialized care you wouldn’t be able to provide.

“And we also thought something else, but we’ll only do this if you want to and completely at your pace.” You become uneasy again at their own nervous expressions.

“Mi vida, we’ve thought that you spend so much time moving from here to the city, and it’s not benefitting you in your studies, or your football career, so Alexia kindly offered an arrangement that we think will work for all of us.”

“Solet, I’d like it if you moved in with me.” There is nothing but shock in your expression now. You have no idea how to respond, this being the last thing you expected from this conversation.

“We were thinking you could stay with me over the week, so you can go to a school that is more understanding of your football career, like many of your teammates, and be closer to the training grounds. You’ll come back to stay over weekends with your grandparents, so you’ll still see them a lot. And you can obvious tell me anytime you wanna be with them, and we’ll make it work so you never feel detached.”

You stop her nervous rambling with an obvious question, still in shock.

“You really want me to move in with you? Are you sure?”

Her smile is so, so soft again. Her eyes so kind, but also somewhat exasperated, she can’t believe you don’t understand how much she cares for you yet.

“Yes, solet. And before you ask. Yes, I’ve talked to Olga, she also thinks this is good. She’s in and out of the house these days because of work in Madrid so she thinks this is actually good for us both, apparently I don’t struck her as someone who lives well alone.” She rolls her eyes when she shares that part, but she’s still smiling.

“And, avis, you think this is best for all of us? Because I’ll still miss you a lot, but you’re right that I’ve been struggling these days.”–you finally admit–“And I guess if there’s a professional caring for you here and I can call you anytime and come often, then, I guess, it seems like a good solution to me too.”

All three of them smile widely at you, glad that you see the same things they do.

“Yes, mi niña, we do. And this is always your home, you can be here as much as you want to.”

“Okay” You say, and it feels definitive, the start of something.

—

an:

so here’s the second part of solet! it took me a bit longer than expected but I wanted to do a good job at setting everything up and it made it longer than i initially expected.

this is the end of setting up the arc, and stories from now on will be just instances of solet’s life :)

I already have some ideas drafted, but I’m super eager to get requests and asks about this world of what kind of things you’d like to see from solet’s life.

thank you for reading!

xoxo, a.c.

[beigebeignett]

I do love angst but I'm also a sucker for happy endings and re-incarnation, so here's my take on what happens (decades/centuries) after:

The sphinx and her lover: reimagined

Imagine that the sphinx ends up dying, as all living creatures do, and ends up reincarnated as a very smart yet terrifying young scientist. 

Her passion in her fields equals her distaste for other people; especially men who try to undermine her knowledge and talent at dates. So, she sets up a strategy to determine who is worthy of her time.

If you want to get a date with me, solve my riddles, wrong answers will get you blocked. 

There, done, she thinks. If that doesn't make men stop bombarding her with messages, she doesn't know what will (well, she can think of a few others, but she'd rather not spend more time and energy than she's already spending on such a silly matter). 

And so, she starts getting less messages, with only some men and women being brave (or foolish) enough to try and chat with her. 

The ones that try to answer her riddles don't usually last long; getting the second or third wrong. Some don't even last the first one; those are usually the most bothersome, acting as if she has no right to choose her partner, as if she's being too ruthless (when she'd been honest since the beginning). 

Weeks pass before she gets another message. And so, she does as she always does. This time though, something's different. He keeps getting her riddles right, over, and over, and over. 

How curious, she thinks. How curious indeed, when he asks her if he could try asking her a riddle. She scoffs at her phone, partially amused, and agrees. 

She gets the answer right, of course, so he keeps asking riddle after riddle and she does the same, as if they were playing a game of pass the ball. The riddles get increasingly difficult, and the time those three dots stay floating on the chat grows longer as well; but she doesn't mind. She can wait a bit more for this one. Plus, while she waits, she can get lab reports done instead of worrying about finding new questions to ask that man. 

Sometimes days go by without her seeing any new riddles for him; sometimes a week passes before he gets asked another one. 

She must be busy, he thinks. He must have other things to do, she assumes. 

Between riddles, they start to talk about more mundane things: his job, her career, his essay on ancient Greek marriage practices; her paper on nuclear magnetic resonance in chemical engineering… He sends her pictures of his cat napping on top of his dictionaries and encyclopaedias, basking in the sun; and in turn she sends him pictures of boards filled with equations and pictures of filled excel tables.

Soon, they start chatting more, asking riddles occasionally when they’re both tired of talking about themselves. 

She learns that he’s an Archaeology major, and he finds out that she’s already getting her doctorate; something about chemical engineering, she explains. He’s fascinated by the topic, asking her a million questions about what it’s like, her doctorate subject, how did she choose her career path… And in turn she asks him about archaeology; why did he choose to spend his life studying the past, what is it that he enjoys the most about his field of work… 

They agree to meet up at the local library two days later. 

Almost a foot taller than him; that’s how tall she is. She’s waiting for him sitting near the entrance, browsing through architecture magazines when he finds her. He smiles and warmly waves at her, formally introducing himself, and extends his hand for her to shake; so she stands up as well to take it and introduce herself as well. That’s when they notice.

Even though he’s not short himself (considering the standards) at 5'9", at almost 7 feet tall she towers over him. Their aesthetics seem to clash a bit as well: his outfit is quite simple: some basic jeans and a nice cream wool jumper paired up with some sneakers, and hers consists of a pleated red skirt and a shirt paired with black knee-high boots to combat the cold. Out of the chat, and now face to face, their conversation flows easily; they exchange book recommendations, and of course they ask each other some riddles to pass the time. 

Overall, their first date goes well. Better than she expected, honestly, which is why when he asks her for a second date, she agrees.

To be continued...?

[inbabylontheywept]

I went to summer camp as a kid. Six times, actually. I have many fond memories, and even more terrible ones. Here's one that's a mixture of both.

To set the stage, I had just spent the night in the infirmary due to a big fight I had with almost my entire tent. They never wanted to sleep, and were always obnoxiously loud with a lantern dubbed "the sun" that let me see movement around me with my eyes closed from the shadows passing over it. I was sleep-deprived, overstimulated, autistic-but-unaware-of-that, and twelve years old, and I already disliked these girls because they talked shit about me behind my back and took advantage of naivety. This unfortunate combination lead to a blowout meltdown in which I said some things I regret, so the counselors decided it'd be best if I spent some time away.

Now, this had the unforeseen consequence of putting me in a place with less supervision. This place also had some strange bugs. They were small, about the size of my pinky fingernail. Most of their bodies were in their tails, which curved downwards like a reverse scorpion. They were black and white, sort of striped, with six legs and no wings. Their fangs were very thin, but long, extending out from their faces like brownish parentheses. They had a propensity to bite.

Perhaps you can see where this is going.

While messing around with these bugs, I noticed that when they bit, they didn't just chomp and leave. They sunk their fangs in and they kept them there for a long time. Naturally, I decided to see what would happen if I let them, nay, encouraged them to bite me, as an experiment. When would they extricate their incisors from my flesh? Would my reaction to the bites vary depending on the amount of time each bite lasted?

I let these bugs bite me four times, once for about 13 minutes, once for about 5 minutes, once for about 1 minute, and once for 45 seconds (I didn't have a watch, so these are estimates). Then, I forged a peaceful resolution with my tentmates and we went to watch the beginning of Color War.

Except, turns out it's stupid to let unidentified insects taste your blood. The bites swelled up huge. I got chills. My stomach hurt intensely. My counselor took me back to the infirmary to get them checked out.

Needless to say, this was not easy to explain to the nurse on duty ("WHY" "For science!"). His first thought was we needed to figure out what bit me. If only it were that simple.

We combed through the databases for insects in the state. We expanded our search to arachnids, even, although it certainly wasn't one. I drew a little mock-up on a Post-It to show him. There was not a single match. To this day, I have no idea what it was that I let bite me. I was given orders to come back tomorrow to get them checked by a doctor, and also return every morning and night for a week to put warm compresses and medicinal ointments on the bites, and a strong directive to never do anything like that again, with a side of "What the hell were you thinking????"

A couple of months later, after camp, I went to my friend's bar mitzvah. The woman in the row behind me tapped my shoulder. She asked me how the bug bites were. It was the doctor from the infirmary.

-- @dr-robert-chase-apologist

That was a beautiful ending. I have a similar story, but less gruesome than letting bugs bite me. My family used to go up to trips to the Mogollon Mountains two or three times a year. The woods were where my dad always felt the most at peace.

My dad used that time to hike through the trees. And I grew into that eventually, but when I was very little, I felt a particular kinship to the small things of this world. Worms and beetles and woodlice and those peculiar Arizona grasshopers with wings the size of jellybeans and tummies the size of my thumb.

And on one trip, there was an incredible number of these beautiful, fuzzy caterpillars. Picture below.

I went a little crazy about them. They were fluffy, and they were had pretty colors, and they had the cutest, softest, stubbiest little suction cup feets that I'd ever seen. Watching them climb up stalks of grass or over fallen branches was enchanting.

So I caught, like, twenty of them, and most got put in a little terrarium where I could watch them do cute caterpillar things. Mostly eat fresh pine needles and wriggle gregariously. But some I kept out just to play with. I'd put them on my palm, and I'd watch them crawl all the way up to my neck, then I'd move them somewhere else. They tickled, and I was charmed to be their jungle gym.

But apparently, those little hairs break off like fiberglass, and they have some kind of venom on them, so I had these strange, wriggling, almost tattoo like rashes all over my arms up to my neck. Very embarrassing to explain to my parents.

There was an entomologist on the street that I grew up on named Freddie. And he wasn't just a bug expert, he was specifically a caterpillar expert. He had a garden in his backyard that was specifically tailored for butterflies, he'd always draw in clouds of Monarchs during their migration. My parents asked him about the mysterious itchy caterpillars, and he said they were lophocampa ingens, and that I was lucky that I didn't inhale those hairs. They can stick inside your throat and make it swell closed. Scary little bastards.

I'd still see them after that, but never in such numbers. And while I appreciated them, I always tried to keep a few feet of distance. Just to be safe.

(Also, just wanted to clarify that I didn't remember the name for 20 years, I googled "irticating caterpillar Mogollon", and saw the picture. It wasn't until I read the caption that I was like oh yeaaaaah, that's what he called them. But it was one of those memories I could never have pulled at will.)

[arbitrarykiwi]

Etched in Ink

Nam-gyu x TattooArtist!Pierced!Fem! Reader Smut Fic

Summary: when Nam-gyu decides it’s time for a tattoo, he asks his best friend, Thanos, where he goes. Thanos raves about his tattoo artist and urges Nam-gyu to schedule an appointment with you. Nam-gyu could not prepare himself for the fact this highly praised tattoo artist is so fucking hot.

Warnings: smut (18+) , reader is described as being tattooed , reader has piercings (tongue, nipple, clit) , oral (f receiving) , p in v sex , creampie , name calling (i think whore like once) , dirty talk , read at your own risk

When Thanos told him that he knows a “fucking crazy good” tattoo artist, he was intrigued.

Nam-gyu had his fair share of ink, multiple pieces littering his skin in intricate vibrant lines. But, he got all the ones he had from some shady underground parlor or even someone’s basement. With the new desire to have the tattoo needle against his skin again, this time with an idea for something much larger than what he gotten before- he decided it was time to find someone a bit more reputable.

So he asked Thanos- the purple hair rapper having a large tattoo of his name down his back, the lines are crisp, the black ink rich and even- simple as the design was, Nam-gyu couldn’t lie, the attention to detail and the skill of the artist was apparent.

Thanos was quick to boast about his tattoo and the artist he got it from, telling Nam-gyu he just had to take him to the place he goes to, to see the specific artist he went to. And hell, with how serious Thanos seemed about his holy grail of a tattoo artist- he agreed.

So he made an appointment on your website. It was easy enough, you had quick availability. So he set a date, paid the deposit and waited (not so) patiently for the tattoo day to arrive. It was late appointment, 8pm. Which was something Nam-gyu appreciated, as an insomniac he preferred to do stuff during the night- and a late night tattoo session sounded like just what he needed.

Thanos had brought him, claiming he just wanted to see you anyway, despite not getting a tattoo himself. Sure, Nam-gyu thought that was odd, he didn’t see why Thanos would want to go out of his way to see a tattoo artist for no reason, but he thought it had to be you were just a chill dude.

But when he walked into the shop with Thanos, and you came up to greet them. He was floored.

You were obviously a female…very obviously. You wore a black tank top, hemmed with lace. It’s tight fitting and low cut, he can’t help but stare at your cleavage and the chest tattoos that litter your skin. He thinks they accentuate one another in the most perfect way.

Your hair was pulled back and you were drying off your hands. He could see tattoos along your arms and hands, spaced out and each eye catching in their own right. He assumed your legs must be the same even though he couldn’t see them due to your pants.

“Hey! You must be Nam-gyu.” You say with a smile. Thanos looks over to Nam-gyu, eyes saying everything. ‘See this is what I was talking about’

Not only were you a good tattoo artist, you were so fucking hot. Nam-gyu gathers himself, nodding his head slowly, “Y-yeah.” He says clearing his throat, a pathetic attempt to hide his surprise and dry mouth.

“Perfect! I’m actually so excited, I really like the ideas you sent me.” You say waving the both of them over to your station. He finds it endearing the way you talk so excitedly about his tattoo. He sent you various pictures of what he wanted, a sharp, detailed, abstract line style tattoo that was planned to start on his arm, go up his shoulder and to his chest.

Your voice and kind tone is such a drastic contrast from your physical appearance- a vixen. You were dangerous. Such a kind sweet face and voice with a body that was straight sin.

He starts to think that Thanos set him up. He knew you were this hot, and knew Nam-gyu wanted a chest piece, now he has to deal with you touching on his chest. Fucking great. He’s bringing his hand up to his mouth, silently laughing in a sardonic manner to himself. He was so fucked.

You’re so short compared to him, looking up at him as you talk, gesturing to the tattoo chair for him to sit down. He follows your orders. You sit down across from him on a circular stool, grabbing your iPad to show him the design you came up with.

“You need me to get you a seat, Thanos?” You call over your shoulder, not even looking up from your tablet. Nam-gyu looks over to Thanos who is not so subtly checking you out. It was like Thanos was undressing you with his eyes. Nam-gyu couldn’t blame him.

“Nah I’m good cutie, just came to drop him off.” Thanos says, you laugh and stick your tongue out playfully. Nam-gyu thinks all the blood he was fighting not to rush to his cock was a fight he was not going to win. On your pink tongue was a silver ball- you had a tongue ring. Jesus Christ, you were going to kill him before you even got the stencil on.

“Alright then get going, don’t need you just standing there. He’s a big boy, got some tattoos before. He’ll be fine. I’m not gonna bite.” You say turning back to Nam-gyu and winking. He sucks in a deep breath and nervously chuckles, shifting in the seat to hopefully conceal the growing erection in his pants.

“Mhm…” Thanos says, finally pulling his eyes away from the view of your back and the red lace thing that was peeking out from your jeans. “Don’t fuck him up too bad, he’s still gotta pay his rent tomorrow.” Thanos says with a teasing grin, looking to Nam-Gyu with a devious grin. He definitely knew what he was doing bringing Nam-Gyu here.

“I won’t mess him up…too bad…” You tease as you begin to put on your gloves. Nam-gyu inwardly groans, even your gloves are pink. You’re like a cute princess in the body of a succubus…he was not going to make it through this session. He’s looking up to the ceiling, saying a silent prayer to himself to try and calm down the erection that’s threatening to become obvious. “I’ll take real good care of him.”

Nam-gyu kisses his teeth, sucking in a shuddering breath he’s thankful you don’t hear. His mind is spinning, he swears he heard a purr in your words, like you’re insinuating the same idea that he’s trying to wipe from his mind. He can stop thinking about how you’d look with his cock shoved in your mouth or how you’d look as he fills you to the brim- sinking his cock deep into your pussy. He bets you have the prettiest moans.

He hates his mind- he really does. He never claimed to be a good person but he normally wasn’t this debauched. You’re just a tattoo artist trying to make a living, having friendly banter with clients and here he was thinking about fucking you stupid….yeah great person he was. He thinks that he completely imagined the purr in your voice, he’s just too horny and imagined it.

But when he looks back to Thanos, and sees his expression. Nam-Gyu realizes he didn’t make it up. You did have a distinct tone to your words that even Thanos caught on to. Thanos has an eyebrow raised, like he’s picked up on your words insinuation. His grin widens and he’s winking at Nam-Gyu. “Well then, I’ll take your word for it..” Thanos says in a teasing sing-song voice as he’s crossing the floor and leaving the tattoo shop. “Have fun you two!” The purple haired rapper calls out, like a father seeing off his son and date to prom.

Nam-gyu hears the bell on the shop door ring as it’s opened and closed. Now you two are truly alone. His body feels oh so hot, his pants are uncomfortable and his eyes have not left the ceiling since Thanos walked out. He fears that if he looks at you he might just cum in his pants. He is praising and cursing Thanos simultaneously. Why did Thanos wait so long to show him the work of art personified that was you?! Why did Thanos set him up deliberately?! He couldn’t decide which pissed him off more, the fact Thanos was harboring you like a secret for years or the fact that Thanos deliberately kept you a secret to get Nam-Gyu flustered when all he wanted was a tattoo.

“You want this on your chest and upper arm right?” You say, it brings him out of his trance but he doesn’t look at you. “Mhm.” He says simply, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His eyes nearly roll back into his skull when you giggle and scoot your chair closer to the seat he was laid back on. “You’re gonna need to take this off.” Your fingers pinch his shirt and pull it up teasingly.

Nam-gyu thinks he’s being tested. All the shitty things he’s done in life have led up to this and now he’s put on trial. Forced to act normal when he can’t get over how incredibly sexy you were. It was a real tragedy. He sits up at bit, pulling his shit over his head and balling it up in his lap.

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes wander over his bare torso. He was fit, not too muscular, not too thin. He was sculpted like some Greek god. You swallow thickly, trying to remain professional as you grab the tattoo stencil.

You scoot your chair close to the bench he’s laid back on. “Just gotta prep the area.” You smile sweetly, leaning over him. He nods, not able to form words as your gloved hands touch his bare chest. You do the prep work, shaving the area and wiping it down. You don’t miss the way his chest shutters with each breath he takes. Anytime your hands come into contact with his chest you can feel how his heartbeat is practically jumping out of his chest.

When you put the stencil down and run your hand along the expanse of his shoulder and chest he is praying you didn’t realize how his eyes rolled into the back of his head. You definitely did, but you didn’t say anything about it.

“Let me know how that looks.” You chirp, bringing him out of the trance you had put him in. He clears his throat and nods, sitting up and hopping off the bench to the walk over to the mirror in your studio. He admires the stencil, it’s an intricate abstract design that spans across his shoulder to his chest. It’s kickass, not only were you built like straight sin, you were a great artist. He sent you many images for inspiration but somehow the design you came up with is even better than any image online he could find.

“Looks good.” He manages to get out, catching your eyes in the mirror. You roll your eyes and raise an eyebrow playfully. “C’mon if there’s anything you wanna change I can fix it. Is the design what you wanted? The placement alright?” You say, he thinks it’s cute how serious you get about your work- wanting to make sure he really likes the ink you’re about to place into his skin. He laughs, as hard and as flustered as you make him; you were so easy to talk to. You had an air of confidence around you that just drew him to you. You were funny, your voice was so sweet, and you were dedicated as a tattooer. Would it be too forward to say fuck the tattoo and just take you on a date now??

He looks at the tattoo again, really looks at it, and he still doesn’t see anything that needs to be changed. “It looks so fucking good. You really did great with the design.” He says genuinely, admiring the blue ink of the stencil that litters his chest. His eyes look back to catch your face in the mirror again, your smile is wide, proud and you’re dancing excitedly in your chair. “Perfect! Sit back down n’ we can get started!” You say oh so happily, it’s such an endearing tone Nam-Gyu thinks he’s going insane. He’s never wanted someone as much as he wanted you.

He follows your orders and settles back down into the seat, it’s slightly leaned back allowing him to sit comfortably and you to have all the room you need to tattoo. He can’t help but to stare shamelessly as you work with the materials in your small corner of the studio, grabbing the ink and needles. You work so effortlessly, he knows you’ve probably done this hundreds of times but you’re so in the zone he feels like he’s watching a movie about a hot tattoo artist. And it’s all a private viewing just for him to see.

You scoot the chair back up next to where he’s sat, tattoo gun in your hand. “Ready?” You ask and he nods, “mhm.” He can’t bring himself to say much else, he’s trying to think about how he’s going to make it through the next couple hours as you’re oh so close to him and touching on his chest. “Yay! Let me know if you need a break or anything.” You say excitedly, he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face at your cute display of excitement.

When he feels the first sing of the needle in his skin he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s a pain that he’s come to love, a way of feeling something when he’s not on drugs. The drawn out bite of the needle for hours on end almost lulls him to sleep most the times he’s gotten tattooed. Each tattoo he gets he thinks adds something to him that he can’t quite place. He would love nothing more than to be sung to sleep by the hum of the tattoo gun and the sting of the needle, but he can’t even focus on that when he feels your hands gliding across his skin so slowly and meticulously.

He adjusts his arms slightly, letting his palms fall into his lap and cup over the bulge that he knows is beginning to form in his pants. Part of him feels guilty, you’re just trying to do your job and here he is acting like a dog in heat. He can’t help it, you are so fucking sexy. It’s not even the ‘sexy’ that he would attribute to pornstars, no not at all. You’re a salacious deity, effortlessly attractive in every minuscule thing you do, a lustrous vixen that’s built out of straight sin. To top it all off, he thinks you don’t even realize it. You exude an innocence that contradicts your seductive appearance. Fuck, you were perfect.

Throughout the tattoo Nam-Gyu thinks he falls harder. You ask him about himself, maybe you were just being cordial and trying to pass the time but with each answer he gives you follow it up with an happy answer and a follow up question. You inquire about his job and when you find out he’s a club promoter you ask where. When you find out he works at Club Pentagon you gasp, “No way! That’s dope as hell! Thanos actually was telling me all about that club, raving about it. So me and my friends went the other week.” You stop tattooing a second to turn back to the tray you had and pick up more ink, “I can’t believe I didn’t see you!” You finish, turning back to him with the cutest pout he’s ever seen.

“When did you go?” He inquires, a smile on his face as he sees your pout turn into a grin. “It was a Thursday, I know, not the best day to go to the club.” You say, already defending yourself playfully. “Well ya’ gotta come on the weekends, hell even Monday’s. ‘S when I work.” Nam-gyu says, it takes so much to work himself up to say it- would it be too forward? Would you think he was weird?

“Well now I’ll only ever go on weekends and Mondays if it means I get to see you.” You muse, immediately going back to tattooing, he can hardly register your words. You were flirting, right?? “Yeah? I can put you on the list, get you VIP.” He hums, eyes trained in the ceiling, trying to slow his heartbeat down because he knows you can feel it. “Oh really?? Would it get us a private room, too?”

You were definitely flirting.

He draws in a sharp breath, one of many since he’s met you, hoping it comes off as just him breathing through a tough spot in the tattoo. “Y-yeah I can arrange that.” He looks down for once, looking at you as you tattoo. You were so focused, your nose scrunching every so often, your tongue poking out in concentration giving him a nice view of the silver tongue ring you had on your pretty pink tongue. God, his cock was so hard.

He tries to think of anything else to get his mind off the lewd things he was thinking. He wasn’t a saint by any means, he would even call himself sleazy. But you weren’t like the other women he’s gotten with, you are so professional and dedicated to your work- probably just flirting to get an extra tip, being friendly- and here he was thinking about bending you over and fucking you dumb.

He has no idea you’re thinking the same thoughts. How could you not?! He was oh so attractive and your hands are moving along his toned pecks. You can see the other tattoos that stain his skin, only adding to his appeal. You also weren’t oblivious- you could see the way his hands are clasped over his crotch, trying to hide the erection that’s definitely in his pants.

As you work you’re squeezing your thighs together, trying to get all the sinful images you have playing in your mind to stop so you can do what you need to- tattoo him. But there’s something about the way that, now, your art is on him. The design that you made is permanently etched into his skin like a brand. The thought makes you dizzy.

It’s a large tattoo, so it takes a long while, the whole time the tension keeps thickening between you two. The more you work, the further into his chest it is, the further you have to lean over him. You’re practically on top of him, thumb damn near brushing over his nipple as you work on a particular line. He can feel your breath fanning his skin as you lean even closer to make sure your work is perfect. He can smell your perfume and shampoo, every sense he has is overwhelmed by you.

The hours pass and you two talk and talk, learning little things about each other, laughing at jokes that fly between sentences. It’s like you have known each other forever. He learns that you’ve been tattooing for years, starting in the underground tattooing world- even apprenticing under one of the guys who did his old tattoos. Small world!

Finally, he hears your voice chirp excitedly, “And you’re all done!” You’re pulling away and setting your tattoo gun down. You come back with a cool wet paper towel, wiping the excess ink off his chest. He doesn’t miss the way your hand moves extra slow, like it’s lingering against him. “Stand up n check it out!” You say, he is obsessed with the way your hands nearly shake with how ecstatic you seem to be, wanting him to see the work you did. “Alright, alright!” He chuckles, slowly sitting up, “Gotta give me a second, I’ve been sitting in the same position for hours.” He says, getting up and making a show of groaning as he gets up.

“Awh! So now you’re complainin’?” You tease, “you sat so well the whole time, were being sooo good f’me and now you’re complaining.”

He doesn’t miss the way you have a slight purr to your voice or the way your eyes linger on his bare back from the mirror. Did you just want him to bend you over and fuck you stupid in the studio?! (The answer was absolutely).

He laughs off the way that simple sentence makes him flustered and he shakes his head, “Not complain’, sweetheart. Just being honest.” He says, throwing his own little bit of flirting in the ring. The pet name makes your throat go dry, it rolls off his tongue so smoothly that it seems like he thinks nothing of it. You wave him off and turn around to take your gloves off, hiding your bashful expression. When you gather yourself you stand up and meet him at the mirror.

“Sooo what do ya think?!” You say in a sing song voice as you rock on your heels. He admires your work in the mirror- your work was fucking incredible. The lines were crisp, the black was opaque, and the subtle shading you added around the expanse of the tattoo made it so much better. “Holy fuck this is so awesome…” he laughs out in disbelief, all attempt at sounding suave and flirty out the window as he sees it finished for the first time. He’s eve leaning closer to the mirror to look at it in awe.

Your smile widens exponentially when you see how happy he was with your work, you’re even clapping softly. “Yay! I’m so glad you like it, it was genuinely so fun to do.” You say, catching his eyes in the mirror from where you stand behind him. “It looks really good with your other tattoos too!” You point out. He nods in agreement and turns back to you. “I guess I gotta just keep coming here…I don’t think anyone could compare to your work.”

You can’t help the blush that rises to your face, the praise from him boosting your confidence. You make a show of doing courtesy, giggling as you do it. “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.”

He laughs turning back around to face you fully, you’re a couple feet apart. He’s so much taller than you, you nearly have to crane your neck upwards to look at him. You two stand there with goofy smiles on your faces, each standing idle in the thick cloud of sexual tension that hangs around the two of you.

“Do you want to go on a date?”

“Can I have your number?”

You both speak at the same time, words fumbling from lips in a hasty nervous attempt at trying to meet up again- to do anything to ease the ache that is in both of your lower stomachs. Your laughter echos Nam-gyu’s as the overlapping sentences break the silence. You’re both nodding in response to the others question.

“Yeah, we can go on a date.” He says as he smiles down at you, your eyes cant stop drifting down to stare at his bare chest. “Then…yes you can have my number.” You answer, still giggling. You catch his eyes falling to your chest, eyes tracing over your tattoos and then settling on your cleavage.

You take a slow step towards him, he follows, his hand reaching out to hook a finger around one loops of your jeans and pulls you all the way into him. Your hands find purchase on his chest, careful not to touch the raw skin where you just tattooed. With how he pulled you into him, you can feel his erection press into your lower stomach. “You were hard the entire tattoo, huh?” You ask bluntly, smirking up at him.

Nam-gyu falters a bit, covering it up with a laugh, “A pretty girl like you touching on my chest for hours…c-can’t really help it.” He says a bit bashfully. You bite your lip, finger tracing shapes on his stomach, watching as he tenses up under your touch. “We could do something to help that…” you mutter, your voice low as you bat your eyelashes up at him.

He can’t take it anymore, he brings his hands up to hold either side of your neck and jaw, leaning down to connect his lips with yours. It’s raw and primal. Hours of built up sexual tension pouring out as your lips move together. You giggle a bit when you hear him let out a soft whine into the kiss when he feels your pierced tongue run along his bottom lip. He regains his composure and greedily sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s hypnotizing truly, your kind going blank as your mouth is filled with the taste of him.

Nam-gyu pulls away, connected to you my a string of spit. You’re panting, trying to catch your breath. It’s not easy when he’s tilting your head up and running his nose down your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume that has been overwhelming him this whole time. Your hands reach to his hair, pulling the long black locks as you sigh out blissfully. He leaves open mouthed kisses along your skin, teeth biting into your skin every so often. “Had me so fucking hard the entire time…” he mumbles against your skin, pulling back to lock eyes with you once more.

You bite your lip, fingers tightening their grip in his hair and tugging. A low rumble, resembling a growl escapes his lips as he grinds his painfully hard cock against your lower stomach, like he’s trying to further prove his words. “Bet you were thinkin’ of all the dirty things you wanted to do to me, huh?” You tease, tilting your head mockingly. He huffs, obviously not too enthralled by your mocking, he can’t deny the way it makes his dick jump in his boxers, though.

He pulls you back into him, lips crashing on yours. This time it’s much more frantic, it’s fast paced and full of spit and teeth. It’s messy, filthy even. As his lips wor against yours, his hands are dripping from your jaw to your hips. He’s wasting no time, his hands moving to hastily unbutton your jeans and pull down the zipper. You’re helplessly whining into his mouth, greedily sucking his tongue into your mouth as he’s guiding you backwards.

Your back hits the leather fabric of the seat you were just tattooing him in. His fingers grip at the loops of your pants pulling them down your thighs. He’s groaning into your mouth when he feels his fingers brush against the soft expanse of your thighs. He has to be dreaming.

His large hands work your jeans down to your knees. He’s pulling back from the kiss, spit still connecting your lips together. He grabs at your hips, mumbling a breathless “jump” before he’s helping you up to sit on the chair.

When you’re sat all pretty up on your bench he’s slotting himself between your legs and reconnecting his lips with yours with a desperation that makes your mind spin. He kisses you like you’re a hit of the strongest, rarest drug he’s tried. One taste and he’s addicted to you.

He clumsily pulls your jeans off your legs entirely. Fumbling even more to pull them over your shoes. You’re giggling into the kiss at his eagerness, his hands throwing your jeans to the floor of the studio and reattaching themselves to your bare thighs, grasping at the doughy flesh and moaning into your mouth as he does.

“G-god fuck-“ Nam-Gyu begins to mumble against your lips, “so. Fuckin’. pretty.” He hisses out between kisses. He thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world, there’s no fucking way he’s got you writhing against him, biting on his lips like some fucking she-devil. Your hips roll against his torso, ass grinding against the leather seat under you.

In a breathless motion, he’s pulling away and dipping his head to your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along your pulse point. There’s no true technique to it, it’s like he’s trying to just taste you. And he is. Maybe you’re wearing some pheromone perfume or something, he doesn’t know, but every time he runs his tongue along your skin, your taste flooding his taste buds, his cock is twitching in his pants- wet spot most certainly forming in his underwear.

He pulls away for a moment to simply admire you, trying to imprint the image of you into his mind just in case this is the only time he gets a chance like this. Your thighs are splayed out so nicely, the plush skin widening with how you’re sat. The slit of your sweet cunt practically hidden by your thighs, giving him the most delicious preview of what’s to come. And what is that…no fucking way….oh he’s already planning his next tattoo appointment just to make sure he sees you.

Nipple rings.

He could see the hardened outline of your nipples and the bars that went through them. Jesus Christ, you were going to actually send him to an early grave. He’s back on you, mouth back on your neck and hands coming to cup your tits over your shirt, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt, massaging your nipples with feather light touches that have you jumping in his hold. Your arms find purchase on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck and gripping at the hair at the back of his neck, pulling his head further into you.

“N-nam-gyu…” his name falls from your lips in a nearly silent whine when his teeth dig a little too hard into your skin, the sharp bite of his teeth sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away from your neck, trailing his tongue down to the sweep of your breasts, “say it again.” He mumbles tersely against your skin, lips tickling you. “Say my name like that again.” His thumb and pointer finger pinching the hard peaks and pulling the slightest bit, the black fabric of your tank top stretching with the pull.

“F-fuck! Nam-gyu, p-please.” You’re ashamed you’re already pleading with him, but the throbbing in your cunt has become almost unbearable at this point. You can feel the grin that twists against his lips as he releases your skin from his mouth. He pulls back to admire his work, his thumb moving up from your nipple to brush over the red and purple marks that begin to blossom across the top of your breasts.

“Mhm…that’s it…” he hums, nodding his head slowly, his eyes never leaving your chest, the image of your skin littered with marks made by him had his cock throbbing. So fucking pretty, he thinks. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your kiss swollen lips, the way your skin is stained with the imprints of his teeth and red splotches that span over the tattoos that are inked into your flesh. It’s like some macabre renaissance painting.

He can’t wait any longer. He’s dropping to his knees and pulling you by the hips towards the edge of the chair. Your skin squeaks against the leather and you squeak out, almost afraid you’ll fall. Your hands grip the edge of the seat, your eyes are wide as you look down at him. “‘M not gonna let you fall, I got’cha princess.” He breathes out as he throws your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open finally.

You watch as he stares at your cunt, his pupils as big as saucers as he takes in your pussy. “O-oh my fucking god…” he laughs out in disbelief, not only do you have the prettiest cunt he thinks he’s ever seen, the hood of your clit is pierced. He’s spreading your lips apart to get a better look, thumbs massaging the sides of your pussy as he takes in the perfect sight before him. He looks back up to you, his face nearly as red as yours, “where the fuck have you been all this time.” He’s chuckling and looking back down to your dripping pussy.

He rests his head on your thigh, his thumb starting to trace feather light circles on your clit, thumb running over the little piercing. You jump into his touch, breath catching in your throat. “B-been here the whole time..” you whine out, hips trying to shift to meet his mouth but he’s too far away, “…t-tattooing T-thanos- ahh!” Your words are abruptly cut off by Nam-gyu delving into your pussy.

He doesn’t start slow or work you up, no, he did it to shut you up. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, hard, tongue rolling over your throbbing clit in figure eights. You cry out, hand flying to his hair and fisting it into your hands. It’s so much at once, but it’s so good.

“Don’t fuckin’ say his name when I got my face near your cunt..” he growls, lips dancing along your puffy folds as he speaks. He licks a flat stripe up the entirety of your pussy, drenching his tastebuds in your saccharine taste. “Only wanna hear my name.” His words are once again punctuated by his tongue flicking deviously against the silver jewelry adorning your clit. Your hips are pathetically rutting down onto his mouth, urging him to give you more.

But he’s fired up now. Years of being Thanos’ shadow, having to watch as the purple haired rapper got all the girls and left him for nothing. This was his time. His chance. He was the one getting to fuck you, not Thanos. “I’m the one who got you spread out like a whore in your lil’ tattoo studio, right?” Nam-Gyu hisses out, eyes catching yours as he waits for you to answer. You’re sucking in a shaky breath, hand tightening its grip in his hair, nodding.

His change in tone makes your cunt flutter around nothing. “Mhm…y-yeah, jus’ you.” You slur out, hips rolling to try and meet his mouth, every time he backs away so he’d be just out of reach. The corners of his lips curl up when he hears how your voice is higher, words wavering and breath heaving. He’s the one doing this to you. It feels surreal to him. He accepts your answer it seems because he’s diving back in.

His tongue is working messily along your folds. Mapping out every crevice and corner, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Nam-Gyu is watching intently, taking in every reaction you give him. Every twitch of your brow, every time you bite your lip, the way your chest heaves and stomach clenches, he’s spinning. He’s on his knees devouring your cunt, worshipping you like a goddess. He’s not shy about his noises, he’s slurping and lapping up every drop of arousal that pours out your clenching pussy.

“Taste shoo fuckin’ good.” Nam-gyu’s words are slurred by your puffy folds, tongue mapping out every inch of your throbbing pussy. He makes a whole show of dropping his jaw wide open so you can see the slick that drops down his pink tongue and coats his face. He’s so messy, paying no mind to how wet his face has become, how your thighs are painted in your own arousal. Your chest is heaving, your nails are hitting into the leather on the edge of the tattoo seat.

“So fuckin’ pretty too, y’know that?” He hums, his dark eyes trained on your cunt as he pulls back just slightly to take in the beautiful sight before him, “such a pretty fuckin’ cunt.” When he finishes his sentence you have no time to utter a response because he’s diving nose deep into your cunt, tongue circling your sopping entrance as the bridge of his nose rubs so deliciously against your clit.

“N-nam-gyu!” His name falling from your lips is a sound that makes his ears ring and his head fill with static. It’s such a high pitched creaky, pleading whine that’s so different from your voice it shocks him in the best way. One of his hands removes itself from your hip to fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans. His cock is so painfully hard he had to free it from his boxers. When his hefty cock springs free as he pulls his jeans and underwear down just enough, he’s growling into your pussy.

His tongue flattens and he licks a fat drag up the entirety of your cunt, slurping down your thick arousal greedily. “‘M I making you feel good?” He murmurs, eyes watching your every reaction even though your head is tipped back in ecstasy. You nod frantically, eyes screwed shut as he licks up and down, up and down in slow, deliberate drags. “Tell me. Wanna hear it.”

When you open your mouth to speak moans cascade from your lips, it takes a moment for you to even think straight enough to form a coherent thought. One of your hands flies to his hair, pulling the strands back out of his face and fisting the soft strands into your fists. Your head falls back forward, a weak gasp catching in your throat when you immediately catch his eyes, “Mhm, s-so fucking g-good. T-tongue feels so good!”

You can feel the way his lips widen into a smile, satisfied with your words. He nods a bit, his head shaking in your pussy, he’s practically glued. The taste of your cunt is something that not even the best high could compare to. His hands run up your hips and torso, grabbing at the top of your tank top and pulling it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric giving him the angelic view of your bare tits. Tattoos line your chest, almost like arrows that guide his eyes directly to your pert nipples accessorized so prettily with barbells that have little hearts on either side- framing your nipples so perfectly.

His eyes are fluttering and rolling back at the sight, moaning into the depths of your cunt as he slurps up every possible ounce of your arousal. He can’t help it, he has to remove one of his hands off of your body to reach down to jerk his cock. You writhe and choke out a moan at the sight, his wrist twists around his thick length, smearing the pre-cum that bubbles out of his red tip, smearing it along his throbbing cock. Your hips grind down even harder into his face, his nose grinding so perfectly against your clit as his tongue licks greedily at your insides.

Babbles of his name are lost between wanton moans and pleas for him to continue. Every time he pulls his mouth back the slightest bit you get the most perfect view of his face, absolutely drenched in a milky-white sheen of you. It drips down his adam’s apple tantalizingly, wetting his neck- and he doesn’t care, if he does it only makes him more excited because he’s diving right back in, nose deep to fuck his tongue back into your twitching cunt.

“Ohmygod!” The babbled cry is ripped from your lungs, your hand gripping at his hair harder- nails biting into his scalp. His tongue pulls out of your entrance to lick a fat stripe back up to the hood of your clit, dancing around that pretty little piercing you have, “I’m- fuck! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob out, eyebrows upturning.

As much as Nam-Gyu wants to taste your cum pour down his throat- that would have to wait. He’s so painfully hard, he wants, no, needs to feel you cum on his cock. He’s pulling away, nearly cumming when he hears your whine, so desperate and needy, begging to cum. He stands back up, leaning forward and gripping your face, capturing you in a kiss.

It’s so messy. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. The wetness that was left along his face is smeared across your skin. You’re moaning into his mouth at your own taste, your hands reaching to wrap around each of his wrists as you lean further into him. His taste, although mixed with yours, was something you know you’d forever be addicted to now.

Nam-gyu pulls away breathless, “‘m sorry pretty, I really need to feel you cum on my cock.” He apologizes against your lips, “I’ll make you cum, I promise…” as he speaks, one of his hands snakes down to tap at your clit. He laughs against your pillowy lips when your whole body jolts with each wet tap of his finger pad against your clit.

You nod, hips rolling against his hand, “P-please… Nam-Gyu I-I need to cum. ” You pant out. And how could Nam-Gyu say no to you. He grabs at your hips and pulls you off the bench. Your knees are weak nearly giving out but his grip on you keeps you up right. He’s spinning you around and pushing at your lower back- bending you over the tattoo bench you were just sat on. You whine when you feel your own wetness as you’re laid over the leather, now dirtying your stomach.

Nam-gyu’s hands run up and down your back, pushing up your tank top so he can see the tattoos that are inked on your back. His thick cock is slotted between the valley of your ass, rocking back and forth. You’re shivering, hips shaking left and right to try and urge him to put it in. “Be patient…” he hums, “lemme admire you.”

His hands dance along your skin, taking in all of you, feeling you under his palms. When his hands land on your waist he lets out a low growl. His hands are so large, engulfing your waist. It’s such a sinful sight, if he had an image of it he’d put it as the lockscreen of his phone. He wants to tease you more, draw this out longer, but the throbbing in his cock is painful at this point. He has to be inside you.

Nam-gyu shifts backwards, gripping the base of his dick and swiping it up and down your sopping cunt. Moans echo through the studio as you feel his fat cock head drag through your folds, catching your clit with each slow drag. When he feels the softness of your pussy along his tip he is also moaning, the hand still on you grabbing tighter at the fat of your hips.

When he’s coated his cock in your arousal he lines up with your entrance. When he makes the first push into your tight heat, both of you are letting out blissful sighs. He’s hardly in and you just know he’s going to fill you so well. Ever so slowly, he pushes in deeper. When his fat cock head is fully inside you, your cunt lets out a sickening wet ‘pop’. The high pitched, creaky moan of his name that you let out makes something particularly superior bloom deep inside him.

“Oh fuuckk…” it’s a long drawn out growl, his hands gripping the globes of your ass, the grip only tightening the further he sinks into your tight cunt. It’s so slow it’s nearly killing you, inch after agonizing inch his cock is stretching your pussy impossibly wide over his thick girth. You can feel the engorged, throbbing veins run along your walls, only serving to make the whole thing feel so much better. “P-please put it in! A-all the way.” You cry out, looking back over your shoulder at him. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his eyebrows are knitted together as he traces every tattoo that litters your back to memorize them. Especially that little tramp stamp you had…that was real cute.

“E-easy…” he hisses out, “You’re so t-tight, sweets. Ya gotta relax if ya want me to go faster.”

His hand reaches around to splay itself across your pubic bone, his deft fingers running along the edges of your cunt where you’re split on his dick to collect your arousal. Traveling back upwards, his fingers meet your clit to rub slow circles into the throbbing bud. You must have loosened up because he’s groaning and sinking in deeper, “Fuucckk yeah, there we go, stretching so pretty around me.”

His words have you moaning, your head falling forward, forehead resting on the leather of the chair. With one final push he’s sinking balls deep inside you. A whine is ripped from your lips, your back arches pushing your hips even further back against him. He’s keeling over you, hunching over and letting out a shuddering breath when he feels the whole length of his cock wrapped in the gooey warmth that was your cunt.

You’re already gushing around him, the force of his cock stretching you out forced a cascade of your arousal down his balls. “Fucking h-hell, so tight. Can feel you clenchin’ around me.” Nam-gyu huffs, his fingers still working on your clit, making your hips roll against him, trying to get him to move. He can’t move right now though, he just knows the second he moves he is going to blow his load deep in your cunt. He tilts his head up and a smirk spreads on his face, a perfect distraction was in front of him.

He leans over you, once of his hands running up your spine, tracing a line of your tattoo, crawling up your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair. He pulls your head off the bench and you’re met face to face with your own reflection. The same mirror that he used to check his tattoo was now continently placed right in front of you. Your face was flushed, kiss swollen lips hanging agape as you pant. “Look at youuu…” Nam-gyu coos, using his grip on your hair to wiggle your head around to further mock your state.

You look so fucked out, it’s embarrassing, your eyes screw shut trying to hide away from the sight. “Not gonna move until you open your eyes.” The sentence is uttered through clenched teeth, coming out in a hiss. You don’t obey, your eyes are still shut. Your hips try to circle back against him but a desperate cry is ripped from your lungs as he draws his cock back, pulling nearly all the way out until just his heavy tip rests in the tight ring of your cunt.

“I know you can hear me, c’mon.” Nam-Gyu growls, jerking your head back and forth once more by your hair to really get your attention. Weakly, your eyes pry themselves open to look at your reflection in the mirror. You look up and you see his smile widening his black hair falling forward in front of his face like some scandalous curtain. When he knows you’re going to keep your eyes open, his hips are surging forward. When he sinks his cock into you again, a loud ‘squelch’ comes from your pussy, echoing throughout the tattoo studio.

“Good girl, y-you’re so pretty, ya gotta look…can’t waste a view like this.” He praises, his words shuttering every so often when he feels your cunt pulsate around him. It’s an addicting feeling, so tight, so warm. A soft, drawn out whine comes from your throat as you feel his thick length sink so deep into you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His fingers are still dancing along your clit, sending wave after wave of exhilarating pleasure throughout your body.

“God you feel so good, so fucking wet…” Nam-gyu huffs out, beginning to piston his hips into your ass, drawing in and out of your sopping heat in dizzying strokes. “Making such a- fucking hell- a fucking mess on my dick.” You watch the way his eyes are focused downwards, where you two are connected. Watching as the frothy white ring that forms around the base of his cock grows with each devious plap, plap, plap of his hips.

“S-so fucking big, sooo deeep.” You whine, your words slurred and drawn out, bouncing in time with each forward drive of his hips. His ego swells even bigger, your fucked out tone and babbled speech just makes him speed his thrusts up, a rumble reverberating in his chest when he sees the plush fat of your ass recoil and jiggle against his pelvis.

He releases his grip on your hair, your head falling forward, cheek resting on the leather of the chair, moth lolling open in silent gasps. His hands grip at the soft flesh of your ass, nails biting into the flesh as he rocks your ass back harder against him, slamming you back onto his cock so anytime he drives balls deep into your gushing cunt, the fat tip of his dick is pressing against your cervix in a way that’s making you delirious. “Yeah? Feels good? Tell me how good it feels.”

You’re drooling at this point, hands gripping helpless at the fabric of the bench. “Mhmm!!! So fucking good!” You cry out, “o-oh my god, so, so good!” One of your hands reaches backwards, gripping at the wrist of one of his arms desperately. “Thaaattss it…” he murmurs, his chest heaving, hips never letting up.

“Fuck yourself back against me, lemme see it.” You waste no time in following his orders, rocking your hips back to meet his thrusts. He expects you to go slow and work up to a faster speed…but no- you’re slamming your hips back against him with a violence that rivals his thrusts. You need to cum.

Nam-gyu thinks he’s in heaven, every time your ass meets his thighs he’s diving impossibly deep into you, stuffing you oh-so-full and stretching you incredibly wide. Anytime you pull away, you can feel the wetness that dirties his thighs and your ass string you two together in some macabre, pornographic connection.

It’s raw and carnal, Nam-gyu’s head tips back in pure bliss as your cunt greedily sucks him in. With each wet slap of your ass against his pelvis you’re driven further and further to your climax. Every time your hips piston backwards his fat cock is bulling itself against your g-spot. “R-right there!!” You cry out desperately, you need to cum.

“Yeah? Right there? That’s the spot?” Nam-Gyu huffs out, his hands digging even harder into the flesh of your ass, hips pile driving into you meeting every one of your backwards thrusts. He angles himself upwards the slightest bit, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you like a target. Your head shakes up and down in a frantic ‘yes’, babbled praises falling from your lips trying to spur him on.

He drives his hips meticulously into that spot over and over. It’s raw and carnal, each thrust is harder than the last and has you moaning out for him like the prettiest song. The tattoos etched into your lower back and hips ripple and stretch each time your ass recoils against him. “Fuck, look at you…” He coos, one of his hands releasing your hip to run back down to your cunt. His fingers run along your puffy folds, feeling the way you’re stretched so wide around him. “Taking it so well, just like I knew you would.”

Nam-gyu’s words go straight to your cunt, you knew he was hard while you were tattooing him but the verbal confirmation that he was thinking about fucking you that whole time just confirms it in the best way. “O-oh fuck, i-i think I’m g-gonna-“ your words are creaky and so broken up by moans, you can’t even finish what you wanted to say because it just feels too fucking good.

“Fuck, yes.” Nam-Gyu growls, his fingers moving up to your swollen clit and dancing along the pulsating bud in mind blowing circles. His tone is one that resonates deep within your mind, igniting every one of your nerves on fire. It was like those words were the ones he’s been dying to hear this whole night. “C’mon pretty girl, I need to f-feel…fuck! I need to feel you make a mess on my dick.”

Your eyes screw shut and you’re helplessly fucking yourself back on his cock, meeting each one of his mean thrusts to drive his cock so deep inside you. His fingers work deft circles on your clit, making even more of a mess of your pussy. You can feel of sloppy you’ve become, your arousal has dropped down your thighs and started to coat the tile below the two of you.

His thrusts are mean and deliberate, speeding up and driving into that sweet spot over and over her needs to feel you cum around him. Moan after moan falls from your lips, each one becoming more higher pitched than the last. You’re clenching around him tighter, spasming in a rhythm that nearly traps him inside your cunt. “F-fuck!! ‘m cumming! Ohmygodohmygod Nam-gyu!” It’s a babbled mess of his name and gasps of pleasure, your back arching even more, your hips shuddering in sloppy thrusts backwards until they stop completely.

Your orgasm makes your vision blurry, your ears ring, and your mind fill with static. When you cum, you cum so hard. Harder than you think you ever have. You’re gushing around him, sobbing out as your body shakes against him. Nam-gyu’s head is tipped back, eyes rolled so far back into his head that he swears he could see his skull. The vice like grip you had on his cock is hurling him towards his own end.

“F-fuck!” Nam-gyu nearly yells out, hips and fingers working you through your orgasm in sloppy movements. “W-where do you want it? F-fuck ya gotta tell me, ‘m so close.”

You can hardly make the words out to respond, but you need it badly, so after inhaling a large, heaving breath and answering him. “I-inside, w-want to feel it..hah!..p-please!” The words are slurred and damn near incoherent- but he hears them perfectly.

With a few more rough thrusts, he’s driving his hips flush with your ass, pushing his cock balls deep into you and cumming deep in your tight heat. You can feel every thick rope filling you up, prolonging your orgasm to the point where you can hardly breathe. His hips rock shallowly into you, making sure every last drop of his cum is pulled from his cock and painting your walls.

You both still, sweaty and breathless, bodies feeling like jelly. “Y-you came so much…” you whine, hips rolling against his mindlessly. Nam-gyu hisses, over sensitive, hand pulling away from your clit so he can hold both of your hips, stilling you. “Mhm…” he hums out, catching his breath, “couldn’t help it, pussy felt too fucking good.”

You smile dumbly, letting out a weak giggle and slumping against the leather bench. With every giggle you let out, your pussy clenches around him like a vice. Nam-Gyu slowly pulls out, his whole body shivering as he slides out of your cunt. He keeps his hands on your ass, spreading you open so he can watch as his cum seeps out of you in thigh globs that drop to the floor and mix with the mess you’ve already made.

His thumb glides over your pussy, smearing the mess as he admires it. “Now that’s a fuckin’ sight..” he hums out, chuckling slightly as you shake anytime his thumb runs over your overstimulated clit. Nam-gyu slides his hands back up your body as he leans down, placing a line of kisses across the back of your shoulder.

You smile when you feel the comforting weight of him over you, trapping you against the chair. You turn your face to try and look back at him, a blissed out smile on your lips. He meets you halfway, booking his face over your shoulder to capture your lips in a slow kiss. It’s languid and full of tongue. You can still taste yourself on his tongue.

“Aren’t we supposed to fuck after the first date?” You mutter against his lips, giggling softly. “Mmm…yeah I guess…but seems like we do things differently.” Nam-gyu says as he pulls away from the kiss, one of his hands is brushing hair out of your face. The next moment he’s holding his phone in your face open to a new contact screen. “Gotta give me your number so we can plan that date.” He says laughing, placing a kiss on your temple.

You can help but laugh, taking his phone and beginning to type in your contact information. Even adding a cute selfie of your fucked out face with makeup smeared and all to the contact as the photo- after your date and the many dates to come he could change it when he had more photos of you (or not).

You didn’t plan to get fucked stupid on your tattoo chair but you weren’t complaining at all, you were so glad he had made an appointment.

I hope you guys liked this one, it was on the back burner for a long while and I really wanted to finish it! I promise I’m still working hard at requests 🙏🙏 thank you all for your support!! Let me know what ya think of this one!! love yew guys!! - <3 kiwi

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of kissing, mentions of family death, bra touching, talk of needing to piss ? 

A/N: This chapter is LONG. Lmk if we like it being this long or if I should break it up next time sorry! Proofread by @darksturnz (ty lovely girl!)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P7: Bras & Piss

wc: 2700+

Not even a single insult. Chris barely even lingered in the main room with Matt and me—like he couldn’t even fathom breathing the same air as me. 

It hurt. The dull ache in my chest seems to worsen everytime he ignores me. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, it still just felt different, and not in a good way. 

Luckily, Chris hadn’t caught me loitering in Matt’s room to help him out with his date with Mia. Although, part of me wish he had. Maybe then he’d at least ask or say something mean. And I just wanted him to say something—anything. 

“Pleaseeee?” Matt begs, his hands clasped as if he’s praying, the same plea falling from his lips yet again. 

Ever since I helped him with his outfit, he hasn’t stopped pushing one idea—he wants to make it a double-date. That way, it wouldn’t have to be so awkward at the beginning. 

But who the fuck was I gonna take on a double-date? The only men I’ve talked to recently are Chris, Jimmy, and Shawn. 

Chris is just not an option. Even though Jimmy’s sweet, that would be weird as fuck. And Shawn…well, I’m still mad. But I have to pick. And I can’t let Matt down—not when I see how much effort he’s putting into this girl. If I couldn’t have a perfect love story, at least I could watch it. 

Shawn. 

I stare at his contact on my screen with distaste, my gaze flickering from my phone back to Matt sitting across the table from me.

“But you and her will have so much fun—”

“Please! I don’t know what I’m doing and I just…I’d feel a lot better if I know you’re there,” he says, his face contorted as if he’s in pain. 

Sighing, I look down at my screen with hesitation. My fingers brush against the key, my cheek pulsing with a sharp sting as I feel my teeth gnaw into the muscle. 

I may hate Shawn right now, but I don’t hate Matt. Matt felt like the first real friend I had made in a while, maybe even ever. And this would help our friendship grow, maybe I’d even like Mia as a friend too.

Ugh. 

|  To Shawn: Hey, do you wanna go on a double date with me this Friday?  |

I send the message before I can rethink the wording. My nose scrunches as I see the read receipt pop up immediately, three dots moving on the screen as I watch Shawn type back. 

|  From Shawn: Fuck yeah ;)  |

Ew. How did I ever think this man was crush-material? Before that dumb party, it was like some sort of unspoken thing, we were always flirting, always touching more than just friends typically would. But now even the thought of his dumb brain coming anywhere close to me made everything in my stomach churn uncomfortably. 

“Thank you, you’re the fuckin’ best!” Matt cheers, walking over to me, pulling my head in his hand before planting a platonic kiss on my head. His arms shoot up in the air. He does a stupid little victory dance, nodding his head to an imaginary beat. 

“What the fuck.” I look over, seeing Chris staring at his brother incredulously, scratching his head before nodding his face from side to side, turning around and walking back down the hallway. 

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in days. For some reason, it makes everything inside of me feel a little bit lighter, like it’s some sort of relief. 

Maybe he’s easing up. 

I shake the thought off as Matt sits back down, blabbing on about anything and everything. 

It’s nice to have a friend. 

___

Matt was helping return the favor. It felt weird to bring a boy in the house, my mother was definitely judging. But I needed help. And I liked Matt’s style the first day we talked, plus—who the fuck else was I gonna ask?

“What do you want to wear?” he asks, flipping through the clothes in my closet while peeking his head over his shoulder to look at me sitting on the bed. 

I shrug. “Matt, I don’t know. Maybe something comfy, but like…I don’t know,” I whine, huffing as I roll my eyes. Why did this have to be so difficult? Shawn was probably gonna wear what he always wore—black jeans and a long, loose T-shirt, the ones that always had a sports number on the back. 

“What about this?” Matt pulls out a skirt. 

I immediately shake my head. “Hell no. It’s too windy, I’m not dealing with that.” 

He points, nodding as he shoves the article of clothing back into place before shuffling through more options.

“Hey, um, what even happened that night? You know…with Chris,” he mutters, his voice quieter than before. 

My face scrunches as I think back on the memory. “I don’t even know. He showed up at window at like, 2 in the morning—”

“How did he know it was your window?” Matt asks, cocking his head to the side as he turns to look at me. 

I shake my head quickly. “We made awkward eye contact when he was taking a walk—but that’s not the point. He came here, bribed me to go on a walk—”

“How did he bribe you?” Matt quips. He holds his hands up defensively as I glare at him.

“Trevour, duh.” I state, the obvious information dripping sarcastically as I let out a dramatic sigh, “Then, we went for a walk. It was… nice?” My voice rises almost as if I’m asking a question. Matt nods slowly, his scrunched face unrelenting as I continue to explain, “He gave me an apology. I mean, he didn’t say sorry, but like—well—you know what, I don’t fucking know, okay? All I know is that we came back here but my window had slipped shut. He was gonna sleep on the floor, but he just couldn’t and we were too tired to argue and—”

“And then you cuddled like a married couple?” he cuts in. 

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, squinting at him as I cross my leg over the other, resting my hands on my knee. “Matthew, shut the fuck up. I’m going on this date for you—I’d rather lick a toilet seat, fuck a splintered broom, and—”

Matt cuts me off, walking over and shoving clothes into my lap. “What about these?” he asks. 

Looking down towards the fabrics, I purse my lips to the side. Baggy cargos, a tight fitted black long sleeve shirt with lace details, and a maroon bra—

BRA?

“WHY THE FUCK—”

“WAIT SORRY!” he panics, grabbing the bra and throwing it aggressively back into the closet, “I just didn’t wanna hear about you fucking a splintered mop or whatever the fuck so I panicked and I—-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” he shouts, his eyes bulging as he covers his mouth with one of his hands. 

My face relaxes and I swallow thickly. He didn’t mean to, it’s fine. He saw my fucking bra, but it’s fine. 

“You’re lucky we’re friends and I like your dad,” I whisper lowly, my eyes twitching as I inhale a shaky breath, “-or I would slap your man tits so fucking hard they melted off your scrawny fucking chest, you stupid little—”

“Oh my god, wait! This is like—just another level of friendship for us then! Think of it that way,” he says, slapping my arm lightly. 

Is this bitch for real?

“I’m gonna go change in the bathroom,” I announce, stalking off towards the bedroom door. I turn around and point my finger directly at his chest, watching as he gulps. “Don’t touch a thing,” I warn. 

Matt nods quickly, clasping his hands together as he stands deathly still. 

At least he’ll be the only one touching my bra tonight. 

___

It wasn’t awful. 

Burst of colors and history are painted throughout canvases hung on the colossal walls. Matt and Mia had already ventured off. In fact, it didn’t really seem awkward at all. 

It made me smile watching their brief interaction. Matt was being an absolute fool, scratching the back of his neck like a damn dog. Mia, however, was shy, but excited. Apparently she really liked all of this. She loved it even more when she realized Matt would listen to her rant about each masterpiece for hours on end. 

Shawn was fine. It wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. I think he could sense my stiffness, being able to understand that whatever we had going on had taken a big step back. 

“How’ve you been? Tessa said you guys haven’t hung out for a while,” he points, his hand swinging obnoxiously between our bodies. I think he was trying to hold my hand without directly asking. And it was fucking annoying.

I rub my lips together as I try to keep my gaze pointed ahead. “Yeah, I guess I just haven’t had much time with the project and all,” I answer. 

That’s a lie. I had time. Honestly, I've been kind of bored recently, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Shame, we miss you, ya know?” he teases, bumping his shoulder into mine. 

They miss me? 

My body slumps a little more with each step. I see Matt and Mia from the corner of my eye, a smile crawling on my face as I see him utterly infatuated with her presence. Maybe that could be me someday, having someone who wanted to understand the most pointless things about me. 

“Heyyyy,” he waves his hand in front of my face, pulling my attention back to him as I feel my cheeks flush. Damn. I’m like a fucking iPad kid when it came to everything. “If they're too distracting, we can venture off further…you know, just us,” he suggests, his brows lifting on his face as he licks over his lips. 

His face is even pissing me off. Why is he looking at me like that?

“Shawn, I’m still upset with you. You drove drunk,”

“I only had a few drinks, you’re being fuckin’ dramatic,” he interupts, huffing as he rolls his eyes. 

Only a ‘few drinks’ could do a lot of damage. 

I wonder what Chris was like before he lost his mom and his brother. Maybe it was someone like Shawn. Someone so incapable of taking any sort of accountability, someone so… careless. 

Silence sinks into the air. A brush of heavy tension weighs downward as I try to create just the slightest bit more of distance between us. 

“Hey, hey,” he coos, quickly tugging my hand into his before cradling it with his other. I look up at him as he stares down at me, my face twisting as I gaze around us. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s dumb, I know. I just… I guess I just wanted to have fun and make sure you had fun too, alright? That’s all it was, it won’t happen again. Swear,” he says, pulling our hands apart and interlocking our pinkies. 

My eyes squint harder at him before I let out a deep sigh, slowly nodding before retracting my hand back to my own body. At least he’s taking accountability. 

“We’re gonna go get ice cream, you guys wanna come with?” Matt asks, stalking towards us with a stupid smile on his face. My eyes fall down, seeing his hand pulling Mia’s lightly, his thumb swiveling against the back of her palm. Oh, he’s so fucking adorable with her. 

“Nah, go ahead. I’ll drive her back, go have fun,” Shawn answers before even sparring me a singular look. 

Bitch. He’s not even my boyfriend and he’s trying to speak on my behalf. Yeah, this isn’t gonna work. 

“Are you sure…?” Matt’s eyes trail to mine. 

I purse my lips before giving an affirmative nod. They’ll have more fun alone. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t have too much fun,” I joke, offering a small wave as they walk down the marble flooring, disappearing past a corner. 

The sound of Shawn’s chuckle makes my face furrow, my lips curling into a tight line as I raise my brow at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask

Shrawn shrugs. “Just couldn’t wait to get me alone, could ya?” he teases, playfully wiggling his brows and sparing me a wink. 

I chose this over ice cream? 

___

That date hadn’t ended awful, but definitely not good, either. I was still waiting for Matt to finish up. It had been hours at this point, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be anything but happy for him. 

I didn’t know where else to go. I felt really drained, I just wanted someone to talk to. This was the only thing I could think of. And even though it seemed a bit odd at first, it felt normal, as if this was something that has happened at least twenty times before.

“And then what happened after Matt and Mia left?” Jimmy asks, petting Trevor nuzzled up in his lap as he gives me his full, undivided attention. 

He was more than happy when I showed up knocking at the door. I was just glad it wasn’t Chris who answered. And speaking of, I still didn’t know where he was. Probably in his room or something. 

“Well…” I look up to the ceiling, retracing the memory as I explain, “It wasn’t bad, I guess? We used to, I don’t know—flirt? But he’s just so…I don’t know how to explain it,” I groan, sinking further into the couch. 

Jimmy laughs. “Then what went wrong today? He seems sweet enough, why were you even mad at him?” he asks. 

My eyes scrunch close. I wasn’t gonna tell him that detail. I had already told him too much, definitely more than I should have. 

“I think he was gonna kiss me and I…I don’t know. I just kinda brushed it off and asked him to drive me home and well… here we are,” I sing, covering my face with my hands. 

The old man looks down at Trevor as he rubs the dog’s ears. “Maybe you just gotta get out of your head and give him another chance, kid. Whatever he did, just put it aside and try things out. I mean, thank god for my wife giving me chances. If not, she would’ve left me in the dust when I accidentally got paint in her damn hair,” he breathes out gruffly, laughing dryly at the reminiscent memory. 

A smile climbs on my face as I listen to his tone get softer. The slight joke holds meaning, a lot of meaning. No wonder Matt was so sweet, he knew how to treat a woman. Chris on the other hand? Maybe he did at some point. Definitely not now though. 

“Thanks, Jimmy–”

“What did I say!” he exclaims, standing up and ruffling my hair, “Call me J-Dawg!” 

I shake my head with a vicious laugh. “I’m not calling you that.” 

The man shrugs before stalking off towards the garage. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go fix this damn light switch in the garage, keep Trevor company until Matt gets home, alright?” 

I don’t have time to offer a response as I hear the heavy door click shut. My eyes drift over to the snoozing dog, my heart melting into a puddle as I watch his closed eyes flicker with a vivid dream. 

He could be dreaming of going on a walk—a walk with her, a woman I’ve never met—a woman I’d never get the chance to meet. 

Maybe Chris dreamed of her too. Maybe that was why he didn’t typically sleep well. 

“I need to pee, hold on, Trev.” I announce to the dog, slightly shaking my head at myself. Not only is he a dog, but he’s dead asleep. Did it really matter if I let him know? 

As I start to get up from the couch, I freeze hearing his voice. 

“Why’re you in my house? And why are you telling my dog you need to fuckin’ piss?” 

Chris. 

[moody-alcoholic]

Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both. 

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer. 

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food. 

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous. 

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves. 

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down. 

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer. 

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused. 

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out. 

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask. 

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.” 

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him. 

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy. 

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it. 

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table. 

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.  

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex? 

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea. 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table. 

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him. 

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can. 

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop. 

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.” 

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table. 

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him. 

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek. 

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him. 

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm. 

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say. 

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown. 

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?” 

“I hinted at the idea.” 

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face. 

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile. 

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny. 

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop. 

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up. 

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start. 

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.” 

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm. 

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about. 

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more. 

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this. 

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him. 

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa. 

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast. 

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit. 

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease. 

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off. 

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes. 

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release. 

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure. 

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit. 

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.” 

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him. 

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible. 

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you. 

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him. 

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best. 

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though. 

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up. 

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you. 

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet. 

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. 

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue. 

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door. 

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening. 

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping. 

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him. 

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV. 

“Is he okay?” You ask. 

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod 

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say. 

“I love you too.”

---

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Eldritch Ex-Husband ///////

Your now ex-husband is incredibly surprised when the authorities are dispatched to your new house when he enters. Thinking nothing of it he broke the knob of your new home, thinking after all that time talking with the judge over some foreign topic you’d both be settling into the new place. Turns out this ‘divorce’-thing and ‘restraining order’-stuff meant something after all. That he couldn’t be with you and the baby.

“Wait, the dee - force means I don’t get to come home? What–?”

“Sir, if you give me trouble it’ll only hurt your chances of seeing your kid more.”

“Wait I can’t see him? (Y/n)! (Y/n)-honey, please!”

“Sir, please put your hands behind your back.”

The only reason he doesn’t suck their brains out through their noses+ fight more is because he’s so devastated as he thinks about how in the dark about cruel-human-practices. Only now does it register that when you were oh-so cutely crying about leaving, you weren’t talking about a late night run to the store to satisfy your cravings. That the word he had dismissed as something you wanted to buy was actually an action. An action that meant he’d be deprived of the most important person in his life.

“Hello?”

“......I did not understand before….but I understand now.”

“Kilton? You know a restraining order extends to calls, right?”

“IM nOt LetTInG yOu go—”

Click.

“Creep.”

As he reluctantly uses the resources proposed to him, to argue for custody he has time to think about when you first mentioned the word. But the more he replays those heavenly moments with you he realizes how often your brow was scrunched and a vein was popping from that kissable forehead. It’s then that your ex-husband begins to realize just how little he was actually listening to you. Ashamed, he’s realized that while he finds all your actions absolutely irresistible it didn’t mean you were happy. And he really had no one to blame but himself.

“Hello this is Kilton (L/n) if you have a message leave it at the tone….beep.”

“Hey I hope I got the right number but I need your help with the baby….there’s stuff going on that I have no idea how to deal with. I won’t call the police or tell anyone..I just need….some help. And you're the only one who can give it to me.”

“OF COURSE i’LL BE RIGht oVER!”

“Wait you never set up your voicemai—”

When you left your husband, you were tired of being so confused all the time. Your husband, your best friend was keeping you in the dark for a long time now. Starting from the occasionally odd behavior you’d witness him do, that he’d brush off as if it were nothing. Like the doors in the house that have begun to open to alternate dimensions (that’s what you believe but your husband will not explain in any way) ignoring your concerns and calling you being ‘silly.’ It was annoying but you hadn’t died yet so it wasn’t that bad…until you got pregnant.

“How can this be?”

“Yippee I told you, that one took!”

“No, I literally can’t.”

“Of course, you can babe, you already are look at your little bump.”

“No like I literally can’t this is unbelievable.”

Whether you physically can and were vigilant in prevention or you physically should not be able to conceive matters not. You are pregnant. Or you were. And while dealing with the intense hormones and birthing pains and gravity-defying phenomena happening in your home, your ex-husband would explain nothing. Doing nothing but smile wistfully at you while you demanded to know why the fridge was inching closer every time you turned the corner. Any sane person could only handle so much of his pretend assurances that you were just losing your mind. 

But hindsight 20/20 you should’ve known you couldn’t get rid of your eldritch ex-husband with your eldritch baby. 

“Hey you left the door unlocked, so I let myself in. Babe, you can’t be doing that it’s really unsa–the furniture doesn’t look at all like it did before.”

“Of course it doesn’t! Because your son has decided to rearrange it with his humming!” 

“That’s not a hum, Love. He’s singing a hymn of Utter Chaos–”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS MAKE HIM STOP.”

As you suspected the root of all the inexplicable happenings in your life were because of your ex-husband and by extension the little bundle that has been doing all sorts of things a normal baby shouldn’t. Like humming the ‘utter chaos song’ or making supplies float over to you while changing him or how at the end of his bath the water turns red and evaporates in an echo of screams. It’s just a little alarming.

“Where is the baby?”

“In that other dimension.”

“Excuse me?”

“Isn’t that something familiar to you? Every now and then he just goes into this other dimension that let’s his laugh morph the walls a little.”

“Oh my. That’s new for me too.”

Surprisingly despite your husband’s now-confirmed-eldritch-heritage he’s not an exact expert on everything his son does. Apparently no one from his world/dimension/atternate plane of existence does everything your son does and is blissfully writing off as something from your side of the family. He’ll shrug and use the opportunity to listen to you list the observations you’ve made about your darling offspring and maybe compliment you on your vigilance as a new unfortunately single parent. Don’t worry it won’t be that way for long!+

“So the blood water thing. It happens whenever he interacts with water.”

“Oh I know that one it’s an old habit of mine, for storing water for later!”

“What about the metal-eating?”

“Metal eating? With no teeth? Beats me must have gotten a taste from all those utensils you’re so fond of. By the way parenthood looks good on you have I told you that?”

As he becomes more of a constant presence in your home, there's a startling change in your baby boy’s behavior. It doesn’t stop but it’s a lot less destructive. Finally, you could have the delivery crew enter the yard without them being swallowed by the portal to your son’s crib. Finally, you can afford to have a couple-hour meet and greet with your family without anyone inexplicably sprouting horns. So reluctantly you let him back into your life with very specific conditions.

“You can’t stay the night.”

“Aww but aren’t you worried about me going home in the dark?”

“I know you’re not just some helpless human, so no. Second rule no kissing or lovey dovey things with me.”

“Got it. So vague I can work with that.”

“And finally–”

“EEEKK! WHAT DID HE DO TO MY BABY!?”

“Oh guess someone’s up from their nap.”

“I’ll distract her with a ring to her doorbell, you change back the dog.”

“As always, please try to turn down her invites for dinner this time. I don’t think I can spare her if she upsets him again.”

“No promises!”

Kilton realizes that what he has with you doesn’t mean he’s equally let back into your life, especially since so many other couples ailed by this (dee)force co-parent more or less the same so he’s got his work cut out for him. He’ll have to finally get over his listening issue while worming his way back into your heart! And don’t worry he definitely will!

[alarajrogers]

If you want to make your whole identity about the shortage of serotonin in your neurological system, well, that's an interesting choice. But if not... depression is a malfunction that blocks your brain from doing what it is supposed to do, what your identity and self would otherwise dictate that it do. Medication doesn't change you, who you are, unless you identify as a person who can't do any of the things you want to do because you can't really want them, you don't have the energy to do them, or they don't make you happy the way they should.

Here is a vastly oversimplified description of one of our current theories of how depression works. There's some evidence that maybe this isn't quite how it goes, but we've been operating on this paradigm since the 90's and it's helped millions of people, so lets go with it for now.

There are three neurotransmitters that most antidepressants work on. You've got many others, but these are the ones they make most depression medication to affect, so we';ll talk about them. Vastly oversimplified: dopamine regulates desire and motivation, norepinephrine regulates energy flow, and serotonin regulates happiness, satisfaction, contentment... probably involved in other moods as well, but for this model, we're talking about happiness. (Not pleasure. That's dopamine and endorphins and oxytocin and I think maybe vasopressin. Just happiness.)

Let's say you're a normal person, no mood disorders, no dysregulation disorders, you don't have ADHD, you don't have fatigue, everything works great. You're not hungry and you're not tired, and you see something you want, or that you want to do. So here's what happens.

First, neurons recognize that that's something you want, based on the gestalt of all your memories and experiences and genetics -- who you are. This is a kind of wanting, but it's more like a precursor to the want most of us feel most of the time that we want things. It's more of a "hey, wouldn't it be nice if" feeling than a full desire. That comes next, though honestly, this is all happening too fast for you to perceive the stages.

Your neurons that recognize you want something release dopamine. Dopamine is the substrate of want. It is willpower and motivation. It's also cravings when levels get too high.

Now you feel the want. It's not a "hey, it would be cool if..." It's "I want that." It sounds like fun. Or it sounds like it would make you happy. You feel this desire. Maybe you see a basketball hoop and you really wanna shoot hoops. Maybe it's a video game icon and you really wanna play that game. Maybe it's triggered by a fleeting memory of riding a roller coaster and you really want to go to an amusement park. Maybe it's something that will objectively make your life better, like, you really want a clean kitchen. You don't want to clean the kitchen but you want the end result very badly.

Next, or maybe at the same time, your brain releases norepinephrine. Norepi controls energy flow -- where the energy resources of your body are going -- and in this case, it's directing energy to your brain and muscles so that you have the energy to do the thing. Remember, in this model, you're well-fed and well-rested and not sick, so there's no good reason for you not to have this energy.

So you have the energy, you do the thing... and you get the reward. Serotonin makes you feel happy and content. You did the thing, it felt good. Maybe a little dopamine to make you want to do it again, but right now, you are satisfied.

Now, I want you to imagine a comedy sketch where a guy is really hungry at a formal dinner where he's waiting for the food. And the servers lay a plate in front of him, and it's great, he's about to eat, it looks good, he's starving... and then the bussers take his plate away and throw it out before he has a chance to eat it.

Funny, in a comedy sketch. Absolutely devastating, if it happens in your brain.

Because there's a mechanism in your brain called reuptake, and it removes neurotransmitters you're done using. And if you didn't make enough of those neurotransmitters in the first place, or if reuptake is malfunctioning and triggering too early, then the busser is coming by and taking away your serotonin or your dopamine before you were done with it, and now you don't have any.

So you see the thing you want. But no dopamine releases to make you feel the want, so you are unmotivated to do it. Or, you have motivation, but you don't have enough norepi to have the energy to do it. Or, you had motivation and energy so you did it... but it didn't make you happy. There's no serotonin. Nothing will make you happy.

Reuptake inhibitors -- most of them working on serotonin, so they are SSRIs, selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, but my medication in particular is a DNRI, a dopamine and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor, and there are other combos as well -- prevent the busser from taking your meal before you're done eating it. They ensure that there is sufficient available neurotransmitter for whatever emotion your brain is trying to trigger.

Let me repeat: your brain, full of your experiences and your genes and your memories, is trying to trigger an emotion based on all those things. The gestalt of you, the identity that you are, should be feeling an emotion. That emotion is caused by a neurotransmitter that the you of you is trying to summon. And if it's not there... you will not feel the emotion that your brain has decided you feel. This is interference with the operation of you. This is the process of you being cut off before it can run to natural completion. This is your emotion, based on who you are, being squashed because the chemicals that make you feel the emotion aren't there.

An SSRI cannot make you happy, but it can make it possible for you to be happy if your brain thinks you should be happy. A DNRI cannot make you want something, but it can make it possible for you to feel motivation and energy to do the thing you wanted to do. These medications do not change who you are. They cannot. They don't give you artifical serotonin or dopamine. To the best of my knowledge, this isn't biologically possible yet without sticking electrodes in your brain. That's science fiction. What they do is make sure that the available pool of neurotransmitters your brain draws from to make you feel the emotions that your brain thinks you should feel contain enough neurotransmitters to actually do the job.

The idea that antidepressants change who you are in any way whatsoever is absolute bullshit and needs to die in a fire. Antidepressants work to prevent a brain malfunction that causes interference with the emotions you should be feeling, based on who you are.

They can indeed have side effects. Paxil is known to cause sexual problems, and in teenagers has sometimes triggered the strength and motivation to carry out a suicide plan before it has improved mood enough to remove the desire to die. Prozac made me "anti-depressed"; it made me flat, no strong emotions at all. But there are many, many such medications. My depression manifested more as fatigue and lack of motivation, with the unhappiness coming from the feeling that I can't make myself do anything I want to do, so they gave me a DNRI and I've been on it for 22 years. The first week I took it, it made me a little high, full of energy and driven and needing less sleep, like a stimulant, but that wore off pretty fast and left me closer to normal than I'd been in the four years previous. Other people I know have had good luck with Zoloft or Cymbalta. They all operate in slightly different ways and affect different brain systems variably. Odds are, if you are depressed, one of them will work for you. And it won't change who you are. It will make it possible for you to be more like who you are than you can be with unmedicated depression.

(They are not perfect. I fight with the black dog a lot. They also don't block depressive, negative feelings when the trigger is real and very strong. I was just out of work for six months and over that time period spent most of my time playing video games and surfing Tumblr as my anxiety about my lack of money grew and my lack of energy or motivation deepened. I struggled to look for work as it got worse, which made me even more anxious because I knew, logically, if I didn't find work things would get even worse, but it started to feel so pointless and I felt helpless. So I didn't write, I didn't clean my house, I did look for work but maybe I could have looked harder, I didn't train my skills as much as I wanted... and now I have a job and my energy and motivation are back. If your situation warrants feelings of depression, no prescription can save you. Antidepressant medication is about allowing you to feel what you should be feeling. If what you should be feeling, rationally, is anxiety and unhappiness, they aren't gonna change that.)

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[adverbally]

Intention

Written for the @stmarchmm prompt “courting rituals” | wc: 913 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steddie, Steve & Wayne, omega Steve, alpha Eddie, alpha Wayne, early relationship, asking permission to court, non-traditional relationship dynamics

———

Steve hesitates on the Munsons’ front porch. The trailer is familiar and comforting with its worn screen door and peeling paint, the warm light and organized chaos he knows to be hidden inside. This place has become more of a home to him than the house he grew up in.

He doesn’t want to lose that now.

But he thinks about Eddie nervously asking him on their first real date, hiding his grin behind the lock of hair he tugged across his face when Steve said yes; the way Eddie’s eyes had sparkled in the glow of the streetlight outside Steve’s house when he dropped him off after dinner, just before he leaned in for the best first kiss Steve has ever had; how Eddie had carefully brushed his wrist along the cuff of Steve’s sweater so he could still smell Eddie’s smoky ginger scent for the rest of the evening.

Steve wants that, all of that and more. The promise of that has to outweigh the fear of screwing everything up.

He knocks on the door.

It feels like an eternity before Wayne answers, already dressed in his work clothes for that evening’s shift. He seems surprised to see Steve, but he pushes open the screen door between them and waves him inside anyway. “Did Ed not tell you he has band practice? He should be home soon but you’re welcome to wait.”

“No, I…” Steve takes a deep breath and stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets so he doesn’t start fidgeting with his jacket zipper. “I wanted to talk to you, actually, if you have a minute?”

Wayne looks even more baffled now but gestures for Steve to take a seat in one of the mismatched chairs surrounding the small dining table. He doesn’t join him immediately, instead going into the kitchen and silently filling two glasses with water from the tap. When he returns, he sits in the seat across from Steve and slides one of the cups over to him.

“Thanks.” Steve’s mouth is so dry that his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, but he’s not sure he can take a drink without spilling or choking on it. Not until he says what he needs to say. Keeping his gaze on the scratched tabletop, he begins, “I think you probably know why I’m here.”

“I think so,” Wayne agrees. “And I think you know I need to hear you say it anyway.”

Steve nods, thinking of Eddie’s spicy warm scent to steel himself. “Eddie said you’re not very traditional. Your family, I mean. He offered to do this because he thought I wanted to do it, and I know he would’ve, but my dad…” He cuts off his rambling with a shake of his head. “Sorry, I’m nervous. Eddie said I shouldn’t be–”

“Steve. Take a breath.”

He does, then sips from his glass. Wayne doesn’t say anything while Steve gathers his thoughts for a long moment. Finally, he speaks again, deliberately. “Eddie is incredible. I care about him. I want to be with him.” It’s a gross understatement but if he starts elaborating, he might never stop. “I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks, but it matters to me what you think. Because it matters to Eddie. You’re the most important person in his life. He’s an adult and he can make his own decisions, so I’m not asking for permission, but… I wanted to inform you of my intention to court your nephew.”

Wayne nods, a slight tilt of his head acknowledging Steve’s declaration. “I accept it.”

“Okay.” He nods back, taps his fingers along the side of his water glass, listening to the quiet ping of his nails on its surface. “Thank you.” It’s almost disappointing how anticlimactic this was. He had stressed over it for days, and Wayne just… accepts him, just like that?

Like he can read Steve’s mind, Wayne leans closer. “You’re a good kid, Steve. You saved Ed’s life, you make him happy, you take care of that pack of kids. I think you’re good for him. Mellow him out some.”

“Yeah?” The compliment makes him warm from head to toe. Steve grins down at the table. “I think he’s good for me too.”

Wayne drains the last of the water in his glass. “I’d’ve given my permission, too, if you’d asked. Not that you need it.” He rises from his chair with a groan. “I gotta head to work now, but you’re welcome to wait for Ed. Make yourself at home.”

Steve stands as well, accepting the handshake Wayne offers him. “Thanks again, sir, I appreciate it.”

“Call me Wayne, son.” His mouth twists in a wry smile. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, then shrugs on his coat. “Make sure you’re being safe, now. I’m not ready to be a granddad yet.”

Wayne can surely see him blushing as Steve stammers, “No, we— I mean, we haven’t, I’m not—” When he realizes Wayne is fighting back his smile, he sighs, embarrassed but relieved to be in on the joke. “Okay, laugh it up.”

He waves to Wayne from the doorstep, watches the beat-up old truck kick up dust until it turns onto the asphalt outside the trailer park. The alpha’s scent lingers in the trailer, more woodsy than Eddie’s but still warm. Familiar.

Steve thinks he could get used to it.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Counterintuitively, Jason trafficking drugs himself, and the way he treats drug dealers in general is actually one of the core reasons I do believe he has a real moral backbone.

In Lost Days we see him mention that he killed his small arms teacher because the smack he was dealing was poisoned. In Nightwing (2016) Annual #2 Jason is particularly violent towards their enemy because he cut his heroin with other substances, leading to his mother's first overdose. In Under the Red Hood, his most important rule is 'no selling to kids', and he is specifically employing people who do sell drugs to adults.

Playing a bit of Headcanon Jazz here - listening to the notes Jason doesn't play as much as the ones he does - It feels really notable to me that dealing drugs is not enough to get on Jason's shit list. On some level Jason thinks it's okay to deal drugs. Even more importantly: Jason doesn't at all imply that drug users are at fault - nor that they need to have the choice to use taken from them 'for their own good'. Heck, I can't remember any instance of him saying that doing drugs is a bad thing.

He has lived with and cared for someone struggling with an addiction that she died to, which would have made it really easy to take him in a 'no leniency, no tolerance, kill all drug dealers and burn all the crack so no one can smoke it' road. Yet that's the opposite of how he's operating.

And I'm putting all that together to get a Jason who firmly believes in harm reduction and that when it comes to drugs, people have a right to risk; they have a right to choose to use. I don't think it's too much further of a stretch to say that he thinks that those who do use should be supported by infrastructure ensuring that their drugs are uncut and properly dosed and that they should have safe places to use and well funded rehab options if they want to quit.

This whole thing is so important to me because it lies completely outside of his emotional conflict of 'I wasn't avenged'; it's proof that there was more to Jason's talk about running Gotham differently than simply killing people.

Factually, there are a huge number of criminal activities that could be used to improve the lives of vulnerable people.

I firmly believe that no government has the right to detain, imprison, deport, et.c. people fleeing violence and persecution in their country of origin. A criminal organization that genuinely had their best interest in mind who could provide access to new identities, jobs, housing, and paperwork for cheap could save and change hundreds of lives. Sex workers, especially survival sex workers who want to quit and move on to a new job, could benefit enormously from protection from the cops, and from landlords kicking them out, and the ability to get criminal charges purged from their records, and lots of other stuff. People who use street drugs need a lot of the same things, as do people who need access to medication but for whatever reason can't get prescriptions the legal way.

This is all stuff that is already a staple of organized crime - they just do it in ways that are insanely abusive and exploitative.

It makes sense that Jason would look at that and think he could make it work! Honestly I'd love to read a comic about him trying! He could be the pinnacle of Be Gay Do Crime! Sadly though, it's very unlikely we ever will, especially because his term as a drug lord was so incredibly short to begin with. Under the Red Hood, a tiny snippet of Robin (1993) and Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72 is really all we get, and none of those really got into the politics of his organization either.

Tho, there is a tiny snippet we possibly see in Seeing Red, my favorite Jason run ever, and I will take any excuse to talk about it so here we go lol!

This is a comic in which Batman gets some things wrong about Jason, and might be straight up lying to Green Arrow in places too, so I don't think we can take his word for it when he says Jason is driving up the trade. Especially not when Jason hasn't given a single flying fuck about collecting wealth for himself in basically any other appearance ever.

Is he using drugs as a trading good to some capacity? Yes, that's a minor plot point here, however, I think justice is very present in his reasoning. I think Jason is being selective with which shipments he's keeping - testing each and destroying the stuff that's extra dangerous, making sure that what's getting used is as safe as it can be. Plus, he might be reducing the supply so that drug trade can't expand, while considering complete elimination to be flatly undesirable, since it could force users to go cold turkey, something that can be dangerous, or at least very painful.

Now, obviously this is still headcanon territory, we never really see into Jason's head about this specific topic, but I do feel like it's a reasonable way to fill in that gap!

Anyways, this is why I've never felt like Jason's disagreements with Bruce's methods were purely about his own emotional desires. There's too much else surrounding that which he clearly also cares about.

[krazycat6167]

Say No

(written for @keferon’s Apocalyptic Ponyo AU. A bit of Jazz and Prowl set after most of the events of the au. Enjoy!)

-.-.-.-

Prowl watches from the sidelines as Jazz goes through yet another interview. He can’t shake the feeling that there is something off with Jazz. That there is something that isn’t right. 

Oh sure, Jazz looks happy, but Prowl doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust it though, so he’s scrutinizing Jazz and his behavior to try and figure it out. 

The other orca mer is smiling, talking as animated as he usually does (though notably trying to be polite by staying in one general area), using his hands as he speaks. Those are normal Jazz things to do, even if he seems a bit…more Jazz-y? He’s using a bit more inflection, slightly more exaggerated movements, a smidge extra charm behind the smile. The effect is entertaining, sure, but-.

But…he is…being entertaining. He is here, in an interview, answering questions both benign and personal, and he is putting on a show. 

Prowl’s gaze flicks around the room. Multiple cameras, stage lights, a dazzled audience. 

The interviewer, masterfully directing Jazz through the narrative with light and heavy topics and making sure to end on a high note. 

Jazz, big movements, big personality, put on display like a thing to be marveled at. 

A large grin that had been bothering Prowl the whole time because it is wrong. And now he knows it’s because it is fake. 

When the interview ends and Jazz swims offstage, Prowl takes his arm and leads him away. Away from the crowds, the lights, the cameras. Just away. From everything. Anyone who even thinks of approaching the two as they leave take one look at Prowl's hard expression and become too scared to even try. 

“While I enjoy swimming with you,” Jazz says when they are properly away from everyone, “is there a reason we left so quick?”

“You were uncomfortable.” Prowl answers. 

“Is that so?” Jazz says, amused. 

Prowl stops and turns to Jazz, stopping the other mer cold with a hard stare. “Yes, you were. You were putting on a show like it was still an obligation you owed for living somewhere when in reality you don’t owe anyone anything of yourself that you don’t want to give.”

The fact that Jazz looks shocked by this makes Prowl’s heart clench painfully. 

Prowl takes both of Jazz’s large hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he says while giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “that I didn’t see it sooner. You did so many interviews and I didn’t see how similar they were to that tank until now.”

“Wha- hey, no,” Jazz brings their hands closer to his chest. “don’t apologize for this when it wasn’t even your fault. They asked to hear my story and-“

“And you could’ve told them no.” Prowl interrupts. “You don’t have to do these things anymore. You can say no. You can leave off you want. You aren’t confined to a small space anymore with no escape and no privacy. You can say no.”

“I- I can say no.” Jazz whispers like it’s revelation straight from the vents below. “I can leave.”

“You don’t have to do things you don’t want.”

Jazz floats there, clutching Prowls hands to his chest like they’re a lifeline, as his gaze drifts down in thought. “What I want…”

Slowly, Jazz looks up at Prowl. “I want you to show me that Crystal Reef you were talking about.”

Prowl smiles. “This way then.”

-.-.-.-

Two of the things Jazz loves about Mer society are the pouches that he can carry stuff—his stuff—in and the phones. After years of seeing humans use them (filming him, taking pictures of him), he now has one of his very own. An underwater phone, a fish phone, a fone (“It’s funny Prowler, trust me.”). It’s awesome!

Not very awesome right this second though. 

It’s vibrating, meaning someone is calling him. The screen only shows a frequency instead of a name, meaning it’s someone he doesn’t know. 

He sees Prowl look at him curiously from where he’s been sunbathing next to him as Jazz answers.

“Hello?”

“Hello! I am Undertow, a reporter with The Tuning Trident. Is this Jazz?”

Jazz sits up. “Yeah, I’m Jazz.”

“Excellent!” Undertow says, chipper. “We have been working on an article covering your story and the trials you went through. We here at The Tuning Trident are dedicated to bringing our readers the most accurate information that we can provide and we were wondering if you could come over sometime within the next few days to answer a few questions we have about your experience.”

Jazz freezes. He…doesn’t really want to talk about it with reporters anymore. He’ll just have to politely turn them down. 

Jazz opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His throat is suddenly dry. He swallows his trepidation and tries again. “Uh…”

Is that it? Is that all he can bring himself to say that isn’t a fake and enthusiastic agreement?

The reporter on the phone starts talking again. “Of course, if coming in is an inconvenience, we can have a small team come to you to conduct the interview. We are very flexible here, so whatever may be best for you, we can certainly work with!”

That was even worse! He didn’t want nosy strangers coming to his favorite spots!

But he still can’t say no. 

His gaze flicks to Prowl, desperately and silently pleading for help. 

Prowl sits up and holds his hand open to Jazz. Jazz gives him the phone. 

“I regret to inform you,” Prowl says with no regret or remorse, “that Jazz won’t be doing any interviews for the time being.”

“It’ll just be a quick thing.” Undertow promises in a small tinny voice that Jazz can still hear. “Only a couple of questions to clarify a few facts.”

“No.”

“I- but- who is this? Who are you to speak for Jazz?”

“His manager.” Prowl's tone turns cold. “He is not available for an interview at this time.”

“Why not?”

“Jazz has his reasons and he doesn’t owe them to you. Good day.”

“Wait, if you could just tell us-“

“No.” Prowl hangs up. “The nerve of some Mer, it’s like they forgot that you're an apex- urk!”

Jazz hugs him, eyes shut tight, tucking his head into Prowl’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thank you.” He whispers, voice wobbly. 

Prowl returns the hug, using one hand to cradle Jazz’s head. “Of course. You deserve some peace.”

“I tried.” Jazz says to Prowl’s shoulder. “I wanted to say no. I tried but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get that one word out and I tried.”

“I know.” Prowl pats Jazz’s head through his beanie. “It’s okay. You keep trying. And until you are able, I can say no for you whenever you need.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”