#I had to do so much digging to convince myself this was a real thing that happened

[primate-tournament]

I’ve finished filling in the ape candidates for the tournament and moved onto the non-simian primates. But I can’t go a day without finding a ‘why is nobody talking about this’ story it seems! I guess an extinct ape being found in an ancient tomb wasn’t enough. No, apparently there’s a species of primate so small and rare that it was thought to be extinct for more than eighty years.

This is the pygmy tarsier (I think, it’s bloody impossible to validate which species are actually in photos of less known primates because at some point during the copy-pasted article chain they inevitably get misidentified and nobody down the rest of the line can ever tell which is which). It’s tiny, rare even in it’s small home range, and apparently vocalise in frequencies which humans can’t hear. All of this meaning it’s incredibly difficult to find. It was thought to have gone extinct in the early 20th century, but a dead specimen was found in a trap in 2000. Live specimens were finally studied in 2008. Another incredible story of a super rare species flying under the radar for the better part of a century. Also, another fact about tarsiers I didn’t know until today: they’re carnivores. Yes, friends, you are looking into the eyes of a skrunkly little killer.

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

part 2 here.

[olderthannetfic]

I was reading a fic and genuinely enjoying myself up until the author decided to make a huge deal, in their AN, about how their protagonist is bi. As in ACTUALLY bi, not that stupid "straight with one exception" trash homophobic fujoshits write. I'm a cis man. I am heterosexual with exactly one exception. I don't know why. I went through years telling myself I was just confused. I heard from my queer friends at the time that only being interested in one other man wasn't a thing, that it was actually me being confused in the other direction, hiding all my crushes and desires from myself.

My family was convinced I was straight. My friends were convinced I was bi for a lot of men, I just wasn't admitting it. My now husband was the only one who told me it was fine. He's gay and he had a crush on one woman, once. Exceptions happen.

So at the risk of siding with the dreaded (presumed cis, presumed het, presumed white) enemy known as women, I... actually like the whole "if it's you, it's okay" thing. I don't assume an evil fetishizer who hates queers is writing it. It never reads that way. It reads as a story, just like any other story. A way to be queer just like any other valid option. Queerness is a spectrum. Not everyone is bi in the same way or gay or lesbian or anything else. The Kinsey Scale exists for a reason.

I spent five years in and out of therapy and church trying to fix myself. Being bi in any way was too much for my family. It was "get rid of the gay or get out" territory of panic. I could have a family or I could have my feelings for him. Choosing him involved giving up everyone I had grown up with. It involved years further of "so you can admit now that you had other male crushes, right?" no matter how many times I said no until I had to cut some queer friends out of my life, too.

And I'm not "ACTUALLY bi", apparently. I'm a trashy homophobic stereotype fujoshi came up with. I'm not actually bi. Real bi men have an equal number of women and men they're into. Bi is code for 50/50 or else you're, you know. Basically fictional. Definitely doing it wrong.

Upon some digging, I found out the writer is a lesbian woman. You would think with all the shit lesbians get she'd know better. I've seen people try to tell lesbians they aren't lesbians because "oh you dated a guy once" or "uh, you had sex with a man, you can't be" and all kind of shit that makes no sense whatsoever. So for her to turn around and go, "there is a single correct way to be a bi man" is just insane. Ma'am. Ma'am. You should know that's not how queerness works! You're queer!

This has annoyed me so much that for the first time in nine years I have pulled up a Microsoft Word document and I am writing fanfic. I am going to write so much It's Okay If It's You, one-exception-only queer fanfic.

Because it's fine to be queer even if it's this way, actually. It's fine to be queer, period! There are not rigid rules to it, that's one of the biggest joys of it!

I feel so old and tired and I'm only 40. Jesus Christ. "ACTUALLY bi". Fuck. The world is broken.

--

[mustainegf]

Hiiiii

can you do some kind of monster era james edging and teasing you with his fingers for hours and the moment he puts his dick inside you, you just cum ?

skom James pls let me ride you

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 ²⁰⁰²

To say James was stressed with this documentary, was an understatement. So it's a good thing he had me to unwind, it always made him feel better, fingering me for hours until I simply couldn't take it a second more.

He was propped up in bed, holding my back to his chest with my legs flung to the sides. His free hand wrapped around my stomach, holding me tight as he whispered into my ear, his fingers plunging into me.

My mind flooded with thoughts of his huge cock and how much I wanted it. I had to get off on his fingers just so he'd let me have the real deal.

"You're driving me mad, baby," he growled against my neck. I could feel his lips kissing my neck and behind my ear. "Such a tight girl, gonna have to stretch you out huh?" He hissed, curling his fingers precisely at the right moment, making me squirm in his grasp.

His fingers were thick and unforgiving, the callouses on his hand roughly brushing my clit each time he worked his two fingers into me.

I whimpered as he continued his rhythm. The feeling was indescribable, having his rough hands plunge into my wetness. There wasn't anything else in the world like it. "So fucking close."

He moaned in my ear as I started bucking against him. "Not yet. I need to hear that you love my fingers." I whined, pushing myself against his hard fingers.

I was so close; I felt like I would explode any second. "Tell me," he bit out through clenched teeth. "I want to hear it. Tell me how much you love my fingers inside you. I want to hear you say it."

He continued his movements, slow and torturous, not allowing me to cum. I couldn't hold it in anymore. "Please! Please!" I begged, my fingers digging into the sheets. He knew what he was doing.

He knew how to make me beg. "Say it," he growled in my ear, his voice low and deep. "I... I love your fingers inside me," I whispered out.

"That's a good job.." He cooed. "No cumming yet though, you can take it a little longer," he greased into my ear, adding a third finger into my sopping heat.

"Fuuuuck," I groaned, shoving my ass against him.

I needed more. I wanted him to fill me up completely. I reached down and rubbed my dit, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger.

"Mmmm," he hummed, continuing his rhythm. I could feel his dick pressing into my ass and I wanted nothing more than for him to slide in and fuck me rather than his fingers.

My hips twitched, my body thrashing as I pleaded to cum. "Convince me." He demanded.

I pushed my hips harder against him, squeezing my muscles around his fingers. "Pleeeease." I whimpered. "Come on," he crooned, wiggling his fingers deeper inside me. "Make me lose control," he challenged.

I decided to give him every once of dirty talk I could muster up, anything to cum.

"Jamie... Please let me cum, please, I'll be a good girl, Jamieeeee..." I whined.

"Alright," he snickered, pulling his fingers out of me and slapping them against my clit. I screamed from the sensation, the shock shooting straight through me.

James shifted, and before I knew it, I was being stretched to my limits, his cock bottoming out inside of me in seconds.

He didn't even need to thrust, I was immediately suffering and crying. I came just at the feeling of him buried inside of my dripping heat. "JAMES!" I yelled, his arms holding me tight as he gave a few gentle thrusts. He was clearly amused with my instant orgasm.

"Holy fuck," he grunted, pumping his hips into me.

"Are you okay?" He asked, as if he didn't know. I nodded, bucking my hips to meet his. He was so big.

I laughed softly, shifting slightly to kiss him, his hands still around my waist. "Yeah, god you're a tease..." I smiled against his lips.

[peacefulpianist]

The Green Dress

Loki x Fem. Reader (no y/n)

Wow hi everyone, I can't say I ever thought I would be doing this, but I've written something! I've been an avid reader for a few years now and have finally convinced myself to give it a shot. Any constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please do bear in mind this is the first thing I've written since year 8 English that isn't an academic paper of sorts. Anyway I hope you enjoy!

I'm tagging a few members of the SAS who I think may like this? But if you want to be removed please do let me know - no hard feelings at all : @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @wheredafandomat @liminalpebble

Description: When Stark invites you last minute to one of his infamous parties, you've not got many options on hand to wear until Nat suggests you wear the green dress you had bought months ago. Perhaps it will be enough to inspire a certain god to finally make his move.

w/c: 4.2k whoops I didn't intend for it to be nearly this long

My Masterlist

“How many times do I need to tell you that you absolutely can not do that Stark!” You exclaimed in exasperation over the cluttered lab table once more.

“But if I just ignored that little thing-” the glare you sent from over the top of your glasses quickly shut his remark down before it could continue any further. Looking contrite, but rather worryingly still determined, Stark pushed back from the table, going slightly further than expected in his chair and trying to style it out as intentional as he almost collided into several rather important projects. 

“Well since you’ve thoroughly pooped on that party Brainiac, I’m declaring we call it a day here, and hey speaking of parties, you are coming later aren’t you?” He asked whilst trying not to fall of his chair and catching a rather dangerous looking item falling off one of the nearby tables he had knocked into. 

A wave of panic washed through you at the mention of the event later; you had been hoping that as no one had specifically invited you to it, only mentioned it in passing, that you would be able to give it a miss unnoticed. It wasn’t that you disliked Starks events or even parties in general, you just happened to be aware of who else would be there and definitely couldn’t trust yourself to keep up a front with the copious alcohol that would no doubt find its way into your system. Not that you were totally innocent in how it found its way there. You had been hoping to avoid a direct invitation like this, purely because you had a real issue saying no to people, especially those you liked and admired. It was because of this, and only this - not the fact you would get to see Loki in one of his impeccably tailored suits again as a helpful voice in your head supplied, that you found yourself blurting out the following. 

“Uh yeah sure, of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world boss!” 

You had hoped that it had come out in a convincing tone, but the slight frown emerging on Starks face said otherwise. However, as quick as it had appeared on his face it was gone, replaced by a trademark smile as he slapped his thighs and stood.

“Well then, you better be off to prepare and polish your elbows, or whatever it is you ladies manage to do to fill so much time getting ready before these events,” his face quickly faltered after realising what he had actually just said and quickly followed up with “not saying of course that it isn’t absolutely worth it, especially if Pepper asks”. 

In an effort to allow Tony to leave the interaction without digging himself an even deeper hole, you stood too, gathering your bag as you went, giving a slightly awkward wave over your shoulder as you walked out the door. 

It was only when you made it back to your room upstairs that you fully understood what you had actually agreed to. Not only were you going to have to be in the same room as Loki, desperately trying to hide your feelings towards him, whilst watching him flirt with practically everyone in attendance, but also work out what the hell you were going to wear to a party at such short notice. Unlike many of the other inhabitants of the tower, your wardrobe wasn’t exactly equipped for these kinds of events. You had always preferred to skip out on anything that required this level of formal wear, the comfort of your staple jeans and a hoody was something you had always chosen over the tighter fitting, more formal attire required at Stark’s parties. 

In a somewhat unhelpful move, you decided that putting off the outfit dilemma was the best course of action, as a frantic full-body shower was needed, and of course there was no point choosing an outfit before you’d done your hair and makeup after the shower as well. You had told yourself that the outfit choices could be mulled over during this time as well, but realistically knew that you were just lying to yourself and would inevitably put it off until the last moment. 

A frantic search of your wardrobe, which involved many an outfit being taken out, only to be thrown into the rejection pile on the floor moments later, left you coming up short and in the middle of a ring of discarded outfits whilst still in just your towel. You sank to the floor, just staring despondently at the chaos around you, contemplating whether Tony would actually notice if you didn’t go after all. 

It was in that state exactly that Nat found you minutes later after she had knocked, not waited for an answer and entered anyway, only to stop in her tracks and abandon whatever purpose she had come with upon seeing you in such a state. 

“Well that outfit is sure to grab everyone’s attention, not what I would choose personally but good for you girl!” Nat said with a smirk, leaning on your doorframe.

“Don’t even start with that right now, I wasn’t planning on going to this until and hour ago, and I appear to have greatly underestimated my wardrobe deficiencies. Some actual help right now would be greatly appreciated.” Your reply came from the floor, all hope of being able to avoid Stark’s shindig fading with the sound of the door closing behind Natasha. 

“I’m sure your so called deficiency isn’t nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be,” her voice somewhat muffled as she rooted through what was left of your clothes in you’re wardrobe. 

“I mean look right here, what was wrong with this option, it’s even green, perfect to catch you-know-who’s attention!” The smile on her face dropped when she turned to face you, brandishing the green dress you had bought months ago on a whim when out with some friends, only to realise you would never be comfortable enough to wear it out in public when you had tried it on at home later that evening. 

“Woah, what’s so wrong with this one that it makes you pull that face? It’s a stunning dress I can’t see what you could possibly have against this one, its perfect for tonight.” Nat questioned with a confused frown, after seeing the vehement refusal on your face at the suggestion. 

“It is a beautiful dress, just not on me, I don’t-” before you could even finish the thought, Nat had pulled you up, and was pushing you quite forcefully back towards the bathroom, throwing you in there along with the dress and your raciest, laciest underwear that you hadn’t even seen her grab.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, you should know better than to speak like that about one of my closest friends by now, by the time I’m back after getting changed myself, I want you wearing that dress so I can prove to you how wrong you are when you see everyone’s faces when we walk in later” Nate reply was somewhat muffled behind the bathroom door, but the fierceness, and her love for you, was still conveyed perfectly through the wood. 

“Besides if it truly makes you feel that bad after wearing it tonight, we’ll burn it together tomorrow, I’m not having you keeping it if its going to make you feel this way whenever you see it.” The finality in her tone and promise of being able to get rid of the thing tomorrow was enough to get you to follow her orders, that alongside the fact that you were still rather scared of her, even after having been friends with her for a few years now. 

With Natasha momentarily gone, it gave you the chance to ruminate in your thoughts, the dress was truly stunning, a deep emerald green that displayed your decolletage beautifully, with a daring slit from ankle to high up on your thigh. While you could see that the dress itself was objectively great, when it was you wearing it, it didn’t seem that way anymore. Instead of being able to focus on all of the ways it could highlight your beauty, all you could see was the way the closer fit of the dress clung to your stomach slightly, and how the slit showed off your thighs, and just seemed to emphasise how big they were. 

It was in this downward spiral that Nat found you in upon her return, a frown once again set on her face as when she saw the malice behind your eyes, directed solely at yourself. 

The way you could only ever focus on the parts of yourself that you saw as problems had always hurt Natasha, and how it impacted the way you behaved as well. It wasn’t just a matter of wearing baggier clothes that covered your insecurities, but the way you let it decide where you belonged socially. She was intimately familiar with your growing feelings towards a certain god of mischief who had taken up residence in the tower little over a year earlier, but also with your pessimistic view towards your chances of the feelings being reciprocated. Ever since you had realised that your feelings were more than that of just friendship you had immediately resigned yourself to remaining in the friend zone, refusing to believe that he would ever see you as something more because “he’s a god and I’m, well, I mean just look at me.” Nat had tried countless times to reassure you that the way you saw yourself, was not in fact the way others saw you, but had also at this point come to the understanding that your self perception wasn’t based in logic, and reasoning as such wasn’t going to make enough of an impact to change how you saw yourself. 

It was with this in mind that she approached you, an arm reaching round you and pulling you into her side for a hug, while smiling at you in the mirror, before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of your room and to the party on the floor above. 

Your outfit dilemma had delayed the two of you a little, so when you arrived upstairs, the party was already in full swing; with music blaring and alcohol clearly flowing freely if the state that some of the guests were in already was any indication. As such you were easily able to slip in behind Natasha unnoticed, before heading straight over to the bar, feeling the need to indulge a little more than normal tonight. 

From your vantage point at the bar up on the mezzanine, you could see almost all of the goings on down below you, from Lang absolutely busting it up on the dance floor to Tony trailing around after Pepper, seemingly trying to make up for something that was undoubtedly his fault, but wasn’t actually remorseful for. Unfortunately it also meant that you had the perfect view of Loki and his apparent flavour of the night. Despite knowing how unproductive it was, you found yourself comparing yourself to her, noting all the ways she was traditionally attractive, only to seemingly find yourself lacking in the same places in comparison. Even though you had accepted months ago that Loki was never going to reciprocate your feelings, and having desperately tried to allocate him into the friend box in your head unsuccessfully, it still hurt deeply to see him so close with other women, knowing what he would be doing with them that night, only to move on to the next when it suited him. 

This knowledge had one advantage for you though, it had made it much easier for you to become friends with the god. As you knew nothing romantic was ever going to happen between the two of you, you had found it that much easier to relax and joke around him, even going as far to return his flirty remarks, as there was no pressure behind it for you, and the potential embarrassment behind behaving more boldly was removed. Since he flirted with everyone that way, it obviously didn’t mean anything to him, so it made it much easier for you to jokingly flirt back. It was because of this new found confidence, that you had struck up a strong friendship with the god and had come to call him one of your closest friends. It had only added to your mental torture.

After a few more self indulgent moments, agonising a little more over what could have been you turned to the bartender, and took another drink with a polite thanks and a smile before deciding that even if you did still regret coming, and especially wearing the dress, you were going to make the most of the evening. Besides how many people could say they got to drink and dance with the avengers, who they were friends with. 

It was with this new found resilience that you stood from your place and made your way down to the dance floor, having caught Nat and Wanda’s eyes before and been summoned. 

The next few hours passes in a slight blur of laughter and dancing for you, after a few, chaotic but incredibly fun dances with Nat and Wanda some of the other men began to join in, requesting a dance with you. Between the fun of teaching Steve how people actually danced in clubs now alongside Nat, and Bucky whirling you round the floor like an absolute professional - after complementing your outfit for the evening with an all too knowing look, you had almost forgotten about your preconceptions for the evening, but whenever you danced with one of the men, however gracious and smooth they were, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were Loki instead of them; comparing the feel of their hand on your back to what you had imagined Loki’s would be like if he were there instead. 

Just when you were about to take a break from dancing, a slightly cooler hand came to rest on your back, as its owner leant down to speak into your ear over the music.

“Darling, I think its about time we show them how its really done don’t you?”

The feeling of his breath over your neck as he leant in closer sent a jolt down your spine, that you were almost certain he must have felt in his hand, still placed firmly in the middle of your back, exactly where you had imagined it being all night. 

Quickly composing yourself, you managed a somewhat natural reply, rather impressed with your own neurones for still being able to function at least somewhat normally whilst Loki was so close to you, having not moved away under the pretence of needing to be closer to be able to hear you over the music.

“Ah of course your majesty, I’m sure us mere mortals couldn’t possibly live up to the prowess of a god”

His low reply was barely heard over the thumping of the bass, in a way that made you question whether he had actually intended for your to hear it, if it wasn’t for the sly wink he sent towards you after.

“Yes I find that is the case in many areas darling, especially when it comes to moving their bodies”

The raised eyebrow you gave in reply expressed all you needed him to know, and covered for the fact that your mind had been sent in a downward spiral imagining his trademark snake hips dance move, in areas other than the dance floor. 

Whilst you were somewhat distracted in your thoughts, he moved the hand from your back to loop his arm round your waist and bring you back into the middle of the dance floor, beginning to sensually move his hips and draw you into to him to do the same. 

What you didn’t know was that Loki and been subtly watching you all evening, ever since you had walked in the door, many may not have noticed your entrance behind the Black Widow, but at this point Loki’s body was finely attuned to your presence and he hadn’t been able to draw his sight away from you for more than a few seconds at a time. You were wearing his colours. His green. But it wasn’t just your choice in attire tonight that had drawn his attention, as delightful as that dress was, you’d had it for many months before this point. Initially you had been a curiosity to Loki, kind to him when many others weren’t immediately following his return to Midgard, but after talking to you the first few times it was your intelligence that had captured Loki’s heart. He had found you to be one of the few midgardians to match his voracious appetite for knowledge, both in reading and in your chosen profession as a biologist working alongside Stark and Banner, but much less insufferable than the other two. 

When Loki had first come to terms with his interest in you, he had thought his subtle flirtations would be enough to alert you to his intentions, but when these failed to elicit any kind of response from you he had slowly become more and more bold with his innuendoes and flirtatious comments when in your presence. At first he had thought he was finally getting somewhere with you when you had began to match him in conversations, but when you made no sign of anything more, he had found himself stumped. At one point he had even stooped so low as to flirt with others in your presence in the hope that it would inspire enough jealously within you to reveal your feelings towards him, alas it did not work. No one had ever taken this long to fall victim to his seduction. He had admitted to himself that this time was different to his previous experiences as truly desired more with you than just a roll in the bed, not to say that did not also desire that with you, he had thought about that extensively, but he was not sure how to progress from here. 

When you had walked in tonight though, looking exquisite in his colours he had decided that enough was enough, tonight he was going to finally bite the bullet and just ask you outright if you would be with him. It was not a decision that he had come to lightly, but he had finally come to the realisation that if he wanted something to happen he was going to have to do something about it for himself. 

You didn’t know whether Loki had bribed the DJ before approaching you, or it was a shear unfortunate coincidence but as you continued dancing, each song seemed to get progressively dirtier and more sensual. This combined with finally dancing with him after having imagined it all night, the enticing smell of him from being in such close proximity, and the one or two drinks you’d had early were practically sending you into an early death.

Simultaneously Loki was experiencing a similar issue, when she wasn’t looking, Loki found his eyes being drawn from her face down to her chest, which with his height he had a fabulous view down, and combined with the lyrics and music he hands had seemingly began to move of his own accord and were veering dangerously further south. He decided he needed to do something soon, or he was going to have a very hard time of it.

As he leant down once again to speak into your ear, your breath hitched ever so slightly, and a faint flush bloomed across your cheeks- a fact that didn’t go entirely unnoticed by the god, and one that made his own pulse race. All hope that you felt the same way as him was not lost.

“Are you alright there darling? You’re looking awfully flushed. You’re not too warm in here are you?”

You had barely managed to stutter out what you could only imagine would have been a terrible excuse before he continued;

“Unless of course it is for the same reason as I.”

The hope that formed in your chest from the one sentence alone caused you to whip your head up, needing to search his gaze to see if he was really implying what you thought he was, surely he couldn’t be, there was no way that he could have felt the same way towards you as you did to him. Before you could continue with your self deprecation, he interrupted your thoughts once again;

“Now now darling stop that immediately, I can tell you are already overthinking this before I have even truly started. I do not know what it is that makes you doubt yourself so, but you must know that whatever it is I do not share that same belief.”

You held his breath as he said this, still not truly believing that this could be going where you wished it was, but not daring to do anything to break the spell just yet

“I was almost sure you would have known by now, but apparently I have not been clear enough in my appreciation or my advances towards you. I very much like you min elskling, you have well and truly captivated me heart and mind, body and soul. I would be honoured if you wished to court me, or as I believe you mortals say, go on a date with me” Loki finished with a release of breath, like saying all that had released a burden from upon his chest and he could finally breath deeply again now it was done.

You just stood there frozen in the middle of the dance floor, unsure if what you had heard was really happening, surely this was all some wonderful fever induced dream, and you were going to wake up face down on one of the desks in the lab any moment. 

However Loki was reading your silence as rejection, and the insecurities that he had previously pushed aside were starting to flood back.

“Of course darling, if you do not feel the same then, I would be more than happy to just remain as friends,” it was of course a lie, but one that he would guard closely if that were the case, as he would never want for you to feel guilty for making an honest decision, and would much rather keep your friendship than not have you in his life at all.

“And I can completely understand why of course if you do not return my feelings, after all with my heritage I know-” before he could finish his sentence though you had reached up and pulled his face down to your height, before promptly pushing your mouth onto his in a scorching kiss. In the time Loki had began to panic and ramble, it had finally registered what Loki had been saying, and that it was in fact real, so before he could spiral any further you had to display your feelings towards him, and this had seemed like the most direct course of action.

After a brief moment in which Loki’s brain had to catch up to what was actually going on right now, he swiftly took charge of the kiss, both of you melting into it, especially as Loki opened his mouth to let he tongue dance along your lips before slowly meeting your own. At the same time, Lokis hands began to wander more actively, finally sliding that last little distance down to your behind, which he grasped firmly before sliding one hand down to bring your leg up and round his hip, letting you feel exactly what you were doing to him. Your own hands had found their way into his silky hair, finally fulfilling the desire you had held for many months to feel what it was like between your fingers, and when you gave it a gentle tug in the passion of the moment, a low growl made its way up Lokis throat, only enticing you in further. 

It was only as a few wolf whistles broke through your bubble that you remembered exactly where you both were and that it was perhaps not the best place for what was clearly on its way to happening. It was with the same thought that Loki took your hand and began leading you out of the room, stopping only briefly first to growl lowly into your ear “we need to leave now darling, don’t you agree?” Before nipping your earlobe and pulling back to grin at you. 

With absolutely no objections, and no subtlety either, you nodded before taking the lead taking you both in the direction your room, before stopping to remember the state you had left it in before the party in your distress to find an outfit. You blushed at the memory and changed direction slightly to lead you both to his rooms instead. Loki however took no notice, or simply did not care for the slight moment of hesitation, as at this point he didn’t particularly care where you were headed as long as it was close by, you were finally his and now it was time for him to claim you as such. 

Part Two here:

Thank you so much for reading if you made it this far! Please do let me know what you think x

[softdoctorreid]

love made | reid x reader

summary: when cat adams shakes spencer's confidence, you help reassure him - and sometimes actions speak louder than words.

• nsfw/18+, smut, post-prison reid, fem!reader, oral sex (fem receiving), piv sex, fingering, body image issues

+++     +++     +++

Cat Adams stood in the living room of the apartment you shared with Spencer, grinning like the devil who just won the deal. “Does she even know the real you?” she asked. “Not the man you pretend to be, but the man with mommy issues a drug problem who throws women up against a wall and chokes them. You could do so much better,” Cat sighed. 

“You mean with you?” he scoffed.

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to her,” Cat said, nodding at you. You tried not to glare at her from where you sat on the couch. It was all a game to her, you knew that. Spencer had told you all about Cat, and with Emily’s briefing you had everything you needed to keep an upper hand in the conversation. And you’d managed that - the team was en route to the location of the hostages she’d taken thanks to the information you pulled from her. But she couldn’t give up without digging her claws in.

“I mean look at you,” Cat said, returning her attention to Spencer. “You’re nothing like you were when I met you. I changed you, Spencie. The messy hair, the stubble, the anger you try so hard to hide. But just like those extra pounds you’ve put on, you just can’t manage to cover it up, can you? Because I’ve changed you. I made you.”

Cat let her eyes wander over him. “Then again, I wish I could’ve been more hands-on. You were more cute before. So innocent. Now you’ve let yourself go.”

Shame burned in his cheeks. It was the thing he tried not to think about, how he couldn’t button some of his old cardigans, or how he had to wear his pants lower on his hips now that he couldn’t quite tuck his tummy into them like he could before. He felt wider, broader, than he was before and he was always afraid of taking up too much space. Cat found his weakness and pounced on it, just as you knew she would.

“No matter how hard you try to deny it, you just can’t get away from me. I did this. So sure, maybe you saved the day,” she said, handing her phone over to him in surrender. “But even after I die, you’ll never stop thinking about me. I made sure of that.”

With the phone in hand you opened the door to let Luke and Emily in, standing there seething as Luke arrested Cat and the SWAT team cleared the apartment. Garcia and Emily stayed behind with you to debrief before mercifully leaving the two of you to decompress from the long day you’d lived.

You found Spencer sitting on the bed, looking utterly miserable. Honey-colored eyes cast downward, mouth pressed into a tight line, arms crossed securely over his chest to keep his feelings bottled in. Though the case had ended with no lives lost and Cat behind bars, you knew that the work still took a lot out of him. It wasn’t easy either for him to stare down the woman who had caused him so much trauma in pain - she’d taken months of his life from him, his sense of safety, and everything she could.

And all that taking took a toll.

You say down gingerly next to him, laying your head on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s been a day, huh?” you said. 

His lip trembled. “She’s right, you know.”

“Huh?” You frowned. Not a word Cat had said made any sense, and it was even more confusing to hear Spencer agree with her.

“Cat was right. You deserve better. I mean, I’m a mess. I’ve let myself go, and I’m selfish, and - and wrong and you should be with someone better.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he muttered. “Maybe if I were the old me, I could be good enough for you, but she was right. She changed me. She made me worse. And you deserve the best.”

Spencer may have been the profiler in the relationship, but sometimes it was hard for him to see past his own self-doubt. Those old insecurities blocking the truth and convincing him that the worst of him was all there could ever be, all anyone could ever see.

“You listen to me,” you said, tilting his chin so he had to look at you. “I want you. Because you are the very best for me. You’re a good man. You’re gentle and brilliant and so kind. You make me want to be a better person. And if I had to choose all over again, I’d choose you every time. Every version of you. Because I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that. Not even Cat Adams.”

His lip stopped quivering, but there was still a hesitance on his face. You could’ve talked to him all night, but you knew that sometimes actions spoke louder than paragraphs ever could. You placed a hand on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze of affirmation.

“Besides, I think she’s overestimating the effect she had on you. I mean, I deserve credit,” you said. You caressed his body, hands rubbing over his tummy and hips, smiling. “I put some of those new inches here with all those homemade meals. Making sure you actually eat. And all those weekends where I seduced you into cuddling up in bed with me instead of, I don’t know, working out? Not to mention encouraging those tight pants that show everything off because they just make your ass look so goddamn good.”

At that you grabbed his ass, smile turning into a smirk. “I stole a little bit of that innocence. And if those pants get a little extra tight, well, I expect I’m to blame for that, too.” Sure enough, as you pressed your palm to the front of his trousers you could feel his hard-on aching through the fabric. 

“Maybe she left a mark three years ago. But I’ve been the one making you mine ever since. I’m the one who gives you hickies. Indulges your sweet tooth. And you started keeping your hair long ever since I pulled it when we were making out.” On cue, you tangled your fingers in his curls and tugged gently, pulling his face to meet you. “And it’s so hot, babe. You let yourself change for me. And you’ve changed me, too.”

“Tell me,” he begged.

“You made me brave. You made me more confident with how good you love me. You taught me more than I ever thought I could learn. And you’ve ruined me, you know. I could never even dream of being with anyone else, not after how you love me. Not after how good you fuck me. Nobody else could ever come close.”

His face was flushed for an entirely different reason now as you squeezed at his waist, fingers catching in his waistband. “You’re too hard on yourself, Spencer. But I know you better than that. I know you better than she does.”

He grabbed your face to pull you into a desperate kiss, crashing his lips against yours with a fierceness that made you shiver. His tongue in your mouth, his hips pressed against you, searching for contact. When he strayed down to suck at the pulse point of your neck, your hands found their way to his belt, blindly flicking open the buckle. 

“You haven’t changed because of her,” you said. “You’ve changed because of love. Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he murmured between kisses. “Yes. Let me prove it.” To you and to himself, you figured. He needed this reassurance. Need was certainly the word as he reached for your shirt, pulling it up over your head before helping you out of your pants and pushing you back onto the bed. 

You lay before him in just your lace bra and panties and he just stared at you for a heartbeat before hurriedly ridding himself of his own trousers and joining you on the mattress. Spencer planted greedy kisses down your neck and jaw while his hands massaged your breasts, kneading the sensitive skin with the perfect amount of pressure. You lost yourself in the pleasure as he unhooked your bra and when his tongue circled your nipple you just couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth.

“God,” you sighed. “You’re so good at this.”

“You taught me,” he said, voice muffled by your skin. He slipped his hand past your panties, cupping your bare ass. “You made me this way.”

“You changed for me. You did that all on your own.”

“Because I love you,” he said, looking up at you, chin resting on your belly. “Because I love you.”

You reached for him, running your fingers through his messy hair, those perfectly disarrayed curls you adored. Pet his head softly, caressed his cheek. Spencer pushed his face into your palm, keening like a cat to your touch. 

“Then ruin me, lover,” you pleaded.

Those honey-colored eyes flashed dark. “You might regret that.”

“With you? Never.”

He slid down the bed, hooking a finger in the band of your panties and sliding them down your legs. You spread easily for him when he positioned himself between your thighs, flattening you with his fingers and stroking over your wet heat. With one thumb on your clit, he pushed one long finger into you, testing your boundaries before curling against you in one smooth motion, hitting a spot that made your breath hitch. Once more, twice more, before he pulled back out and, without breaking eye contact, raised that finger to his lips, his tongue swiping over the sheen of your arousal left on his skin. His breath as shaky as your own.

“Only you do that to me,” you whispered. “Only you get me so wet.”

He said nothing, just grabbed your hip to pull you closer as his tongue found your core, so warm against every inch of you, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as he devoured you like he’d been starved. The slight tickle of his stubble against your skin. One hand pawing at your breast, one squeezing your thigh as he sucked at your clit, licked at your heat, pausing only to gasp for air and press kisses against your hip. 

It was overwhelming the way he wanted all of you, needed all of you. He was always like this, so focused on you, so intent on getting you off, the most generous of lovers. Cat Adams knew nothing of the man bringing you to the edge with every swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck, Spence,” you whined.

“My name,” he panted. “Use my name.” He’d had enough of nicknames that night you figured, and you were happy to oblige.

“Spencer. Spencer, my god, I-I’m so close.” He’d said nothing about terms of endearment though. “Please, lover. So… so close.”

He hummed against you in acknowledgment and you let your head fall back against the pillows as he did what he loved best. Flicking in and out of you, circling your clit with his tongue, using his fingers and his mouth to bring you further and further until the only things you knew were the warmth of him and the sound of his name, and how utterly heavenly that rush of obscene pleasure felt as it wracked through your body, engulfing you from top to toe.

Spencer crawled back up to kiss you as you came down, both of you so breathless as his lips brushed yours, the taste of you lingering on his mouth. As he hovered over you, you could feel the hard brush of his cock through his boxers, the ache he was ignoring in favor of your needs.

“I love you,” he said.

“I know. You love me so good, Spencer. And I love you so much.” You grabbed his hand in yours, thumb swiping over the back of his hand. “Hey, you don’t have to deny yourself, you know. Not because of her. That’s what she wants. You’re not selfish. You’re not a mess. You’re you. And you’re mine. Mine,” you repeated, biting gently at his collarbone. 

You kissed the same spot, sucking a few times just hard enough to leave a faint mark, the purplish beginnings of a bruise. Just so he’d remember that the things that hurt weren’t the only things capable of changing him. Love left marks too, marks that didn’t have to be scars. The hickies that colored his body before fading. The softness of his belly and thighs that grew within the safety of a happy relationship and regular meal schedule. The flush on his cheeks when you whispered sweet nothings and the blood that rushed to his dick at the sight of you on your knees for him. 

Love changed him. You changed each other.

“You’re mine. So make me yours, lover mine.”

That was all the permission he needed to strip off his hastily-undone shirt and the boxers that were already growing wet from the pre-cum leaking from his straining cock. You handed him a condom and he could hardly put it on fast enough, so frantic to get into you. He lined himself up with you once more, pushing in with a groan that had his head tipping back, eyes fluttering closed as you clenched around him. 

Spencer found a steady pace, thrusting into you with gasp and urgency, and you took him in full each time, letting him fill you up in the most delicious way. His tummy slapped lightly against your waist with each stroke, and you tangled your fingers in his hair to tug him to you and steal a frantic kiss, your tongue in his mouth moved in tandem with the rhythm of your bodies as he fucked you so good.

You could feel the need vibrating in him, the way this wasn’t just fucking, but making peace with himself, proving to himself that this was what changed him, this was what made him. His newfound confidence built by your encouragement, his fierceness a way to protect you, his softness forged by the vulnerability he could show you. It was tender and necessary and desperate and something inside you just felt complete when he finally came with a shuddering cry and collapsed in your arms.

“Love made you this way,” you sighed, wrapping him in a hug. “Not Cat. Not prison. Love.” Everything about him, from his soft voice to his contagious smile to his body. All made for moments like this.

“Love,” he repeated, the word breaking just a bit. “I can live with that. Because if I’m made this way because of love, then everything I am will come back to you.”

You smiled into a sweet, sleepy kiss, letting his embrace wash away everything else from the day. All the heartache, all the anger. Leaving nothing but the love you made together.

+++

tell me what you think here!

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday (but it's Thursday)

So I told myself I would post this yesterday, but when I left for the evening I realised I hadn't in fact done that. Whoops! But hey, it's only like 4 and a half past midnight on Baker Island, so if you think about it, it basically still counts as Wednesday. Right?

Anyway, this one is the next chunk of my superbatlantern fic, because I thought I might as well just commit and post what's basically the end of chapter 1. (For anyone who hasn't read the preceding parts: part 1 and part 2.)

“You were spying on us,” Bats said in that rough, low growl of his. He didn’t sound happy.

Well, there didn’t seem much point in denying it at this point, huh? “Yeah,” he said.

“Why.”

“Is that really important?” Hal shrugged. “Curiosity, mostly. I sensed a little sexual tension earlier in that meeting, while you two were going at it with each other.” The word choice made Batman’s eyebrow twitch gratifyingly. “I thought maybe you’d come in here to continue what you started, so I decided to check. That’s all.”

Superman went from looking mostly dismayed to a little bewildered. “So you wanted to catch us—what? Having sex? This is the Watchtower, we wouldn’t— Why would you think we’d even do that here?”

Hal felt his eyebrows raise. “What, you mean you haven’t? Ever?” Superman didn’t say anything to that, which to Hal was pretty much as good as an admission. He grinned. “Heh, thought so. I always knew you were less of a boy scout than you let on.”

Superman looked like he wanted to respond to that, but Batman cut him off coolly before he could. “Clark, focus. Hal’s concerning attempts at voyeurism aside—”

“Hey!” Hal objected. “I wasn’t out there trying to jack off or anything, don’t make it weird—”

“Putting that aside,” Bats continued firmly, “we need to deal with the real issue here.”

He turned his ice-blue gaze on Superman, who met it immediately as if by instinct. They did that kind of thing a lot, silently communicating with each other with just a look or a subtle gesture, like they had some kind of freaky, psychic bond. Just like now, where the meaningful glances exchanged above Hal’s head were a whole conversation he couldn’t hear.

…Huh. Hal probably should have figured they were dating a while ago, actually.

After a long few seconds, they seemed to come to an agreement. Superman turned back to address him, stoic and serious. “Hal, we need to know you’re not going to spread this around.”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Or what? You’re gonna blackmail me? Kick me out of the League? Put my feet in a bucket of cement and drop me into the Atlantic?”

A muscle flexed in Batman’s jaw, the way it always did when he was pissy. “Obviously not.”

“Good,” he said, flashing the ring alongside his signature grin. “Because I’m not feeling super threatened.”

That muscle flexed again and Batman’s hands clenched to fists. Okay, so he was really pissed, huh? “Christ, Jordan, this isn’t the time for your pointless posturing,” he snarled. “Can't you take this seriously, for once in your life—”

“Bruce,” Superman said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine, okay? It’s Hal.”

Hal bristled, unsure what the guy meant by that but instinctually convinced that it had to be some kind of dig at his expense. But before he could say anything righteously indignant, Bats just kind of…softened? There wasn’t really another word for it, all that sneering tension seeping out of him in an instant. Bats reached up to squeeze the hand on his shoulder, grateful and reassuring, and it all felt so easily intimate that whatever words were about to come out caught in Hal’s throat.

Hal swallowed. Geez, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t normally like this around Ollie and Dinah, and god knows they weren’t that shy about PDA. And this was barely even that. What about it was weirding him out so much? Just because it was them?

Superman smiled at him, all benevolence and understanding but for the tension around his eyes. “Look, there’s a reason we’ve been keeping our relationship private. We agreed when this started that dating openly would be too complicated and too much risk for our secret identities. And unfortunately, that includes the Justice League. You know how gossip spreads among the superhero community.”

Boy did he. When Carol had dumped him for good, he’d gotten a commiseration text from Booster Gold. Fucking Booster Gold.

“And I don’t want what we do in our private time encroaching on what we do here,” he went on. “We have a leadership position in League together with Diana. The two of us being in a relationship could…complicate things, here.”

“You don’t want that, huh, big guy?” Hal said. “That not a concern your boyfriend shares?”

Batman’s expression remained blank. Superman’s eyes hardened. “Don't try to change the subject, please. This is serious.”

“Clark is right,” Bats said. “Hal, we need explicit verbal confirmation. Will you agree to keep this a secret, or are we going to have a problem?”

Hal shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Both of them paused.

“Really,” Batman said, with an edge of suspicion. “Just like that.”

“Yeah, just like that. Why are you acting so surprised? I’m in this game too, I know the drill. I can keep a secret.”

“You wear a flight suit with your name on it under your Lantern uniform.”

“And yet somehow, the general public hasn’t worked it out yet. Go figure.” He felt his lips pull into a sneer. “Look, what do you want from me? I said I won’t blab and I won’t. Am I supposed to sign a pact in blood or something?”

“Shockingly, I wasn’t actually going to suggest that,” Batman said dryly. “But it would certainly be more comforting than just taking it on faith.”

Hal gritted his teeth. “Oh, right. So you don’t trust me, is that it?”

“Bruce,” Superman said, frowning.

Bats just shook his head. “It’s nothing personal. Trust alone is a poor basis for most agreements.”

“So that’s a 'no, I don’t trust you' then? Fuck you too. How many times have I pulled your ass out of the fire by now, Spooky—”

“Fewer times than I’ve done the same for you—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Superman cut in, face like gentle thunder. “Bruce, we’re asking him for a favor here. Antagonizing him is counterproductive.” Bats just grunted and looked away. “And Hal, you have to understand this is difficult for us. For both of us. We’ve kept this hidden for a long time, from almost everyone in our lives, and you’re the first person to find out like this. I hope you can appreciate the gravity of that.”

Hal scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling the sudden rush of anger drain out of him. It was honestly hard to stay mad when Superman was using his Nice Reasonable Mediator voice. “Yeah, I… Look, I do get it, okay? I’m not gonna blab, because no matter what either of you think, I’m not that big of an asshole. I don’t go around fucking up other people’s relationships for fun, you know.”

“We know, Hal,” Superman said, reassuringly. Batman was annoyingly silent.

“Cool. Are we done here?”

“We’re done,” Bats said.

Thank god. Hal was feeling shittier and antsier the longer he sat here with these guys.

[asecretvice]

hi!! i’m rereading “and this, your living kiss” (for about the sixth time bc i love it so so much), and i’m very curious what your personal opinion is about on the road? you write both opinions of the book so well and i know it’s one of those books that garner very opposite strong opinions. i read the book after reading your fic for the first time and certainly have my own strong opinions. would love to know your thoughts about it!

(and once again thank you for the absolute gift that your fic is, i love it so deeply)

Firstly, thank you so much for your kind words about my writing. It means the world <3

On the Road is a tricky one, isn't it? The short answer is, I do enjoy it. The longer answer includes a "but." And then a couple more.

Just looking at the specs of the book, it's pretty unusual that I should enjoy it--the subject matter is mostly [white] dudes being dudes, it's more or less "literary" fiction, there's just...SO MUCH misogyny, and I'm simply not a big fan of stream of consciousness [or free association, or spontaneous, or whatever you want to call it] prose, because it's difficult to do it both clearly and interestingly. And yet.

The guy does it well. The book is full of energy and passion, ridiculously gorgeous turns of phrase, and for the characters [real people!] he spends the time on, the portraits are so detailed and beautiful and ugly and real. Down to the way he captures their speech patterns!

It's been a little over ten years since I've read it [what is. time.], but I plucked the book off my shelf and was able to find you the exact passage in the first chapter where I decided to trust Kerouac as an author, and allow myself to go with his flow:

They rushed down the street together, digging everything in the early way they had, which later became so much sadder and perceptive and blank. But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!" What did they call such young people in Goethe's Germany?

I mean, this thought starts with another device I tend not to like, the sort of, "If only they'd known, then this wouldn't have happened!" or "Little did they know, it would all end soon" or what have you. But it isn't laid out that way, as a wink or a gotcha. It sets up the dim result, but then gives you the answer without holding your hand about it--you can only burn like that for so long, really. And the nod to "young people in Goethe's Germany," and mentioning the colors blue and yellow, in my view, are an intentional reference to The Sorrows of Young Werther.

The structure is great! This passage is three sentences, the middle one taking up the bulk of it. It's got all sorts of qualities that well-meaning teachers might try to convince you out of, but he's long past that beginner's stage. Read it out loud! It sounds right. The rhythm of this whole section works, with the lead up sentence, the one that flies higher and higher into a climax, and then the short denouement that brings you back down to earth. Not to mention the poetics of it; you could easily split that middle sentence into lines and be wowed by the structure of it:

and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved

Or hell, just say aloud the phrase "candles exploding like spiders across the stars" and delight in the recurring phonemes like /k/, /l/, /d/, /s/, etc.

And you know, maybe that does nothing for you. But I can't imagine that most folks wouldn't at least appreciate the sentiment and how real it feels, how some are in their youth, and then things becoming "so much sadder." Or relate to times when you felt fully mad or overwhelmingly desirous. Or being the person shambling behind, the one ever so slightly on the outside, observing the ones who seem to be truly living their lives to the fullest [Writers' Syndrome(tm)].

So yes, I enjoy the book and I enjoy the pictures Kerouac paints us. It certainly helps that I read this book right around the time I started watching spn. I believe it was probably a month or so after I'd caught up. It was on the docket anyway because I had discovered Ginsberg for myself not very long before I watched the show, and I'd made a point to seek out a few of the beats thereafter. It was rather a synchronous turn of events that helped cement the two things--spn and beat literature--together for me, beyond the movement's heavy influence on Kripke. [If you don't think I have a beats-style spn fic that's been waiting to be written since that time which I've nicknamed Sulfur Sutra then you are sorely mistaken :p ]

Anyway, I did reread the first chapter before writing this post and yeah, the mommy issues and misogyny are in there right away also, and like...okay, that tracks why I recall so well certain moments of the book where I got so frustrated I would be taken out of it and just sit there like

[I hope he felt my eyes. Burning shame into his soul. Like my dude. Really?]

The other part of it is...well...he was in fact describing his version of reality. You don't have to like him on account of it, but I don't doubt for a moment that the guys talked that way, or thought that yes indeed Marylou should go to the kitchen or go sweep the floor or whatever. It takes place in the 40s [not like it doesn't happen all the time today]. Look at it from a more historical/anthropological perspective, if that helps.

Thankfully, there are antidotes to all this. I would highly recommend what I've found to be the best one: Minor Characters by Joyce Johnson. She was part of the beats, and was in a relationship with Kerouac for a couple years. On the Road was reality as he perceived the era; Minor Characters as she perceived it.

In terms of my fic, I agree with and hold both Dean's and Charlie's perspectives simultaneously, as they both come to do after they discuss it with each other and finish the book themselves. The gender politics [and in a few passages, the race politics] are shit, but there's a reason the book has remained popular since its publication, and inspired so many adaptations and other stories. To this day its effects are felt in the American zeitgeist, and for that reason I'm still happy to recommend it to people with the obvious caveats. Besides, as is often the truth in these cases, the book is so much more interesting and beautiful and nuanced than pop culture makes it out to be.

You said you have some strong opinions--feel free to tell me what they are! I'm interested to know ^_^

Thank you again for your kind words, and your ask. I had a lot of fun answering it!

[repressionmd]

3 7 and 15!! :DD i love question #3 bc it always tickles me to know what people hate, petty style

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

this is such an interesting question sfgjk because i actually read like. a lot of stuff 😭 and i guess i wouldn't necessarily say that i hate it but i do instantly switch off when like. piss kinks r involved i really don't get it i get the control element but 👋(>_<)

although i think i hate homophobic house i'll be so fr he would Not say that. i don't care i just don't see him digging up deadnames to dig at people with absolutely no other prongs to the attack ??? like there has to be some kind of reason with it idk + when people remove that in favour of "oh he's just being his regular brand of asshole" i rly don't like it

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

i can't believe you've made me do this 😭 but ok this snippet from this thing is supposed to be give-and-take:

"You would have come at any time, even if it was worse, even though it upsets you, because you like me." House knew it upset him? He still called? Wilson held every muscle in place. Stayed silent, held the eye contact. Held House's arm that he'd finished bandaging already but didn't want to let go of. Waited for the inevitable joke. House's eyes widened, shone with a new light. "You like me!" For one aching, fleeting second, Wilson thought House was about to kiss him, but Wilson jerked back, letting go. He ignored every instinct in his mind telling him to move in closer. He was intimately aware of the heat of House's thigh against his, the ghost of House's arm on his hand, the memory of House's head on his shoulder. "House. Shut up." House was high. He was drunk, he was exhausted and in pain. He didn't know what he was doing. They couldn't do this.

because there's just SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION!!! wilson in this fic has been pushing back his own memories to compartmentalise and take care of house - and his first reaction to "you like me" is skipping that bit and going Back to feeling like house called him because he doesn't care about wilson's emotions. the reality is ... complicated. the reality is house trusts wilson intimately, trusts him to do what needs to be done, and house doesn't know the extent of wilson's trauma. "even though it upsets you" isn't supposed to mean "i purposefully called you to trigger you", it's supposed to mean "im sorry i hurt myself because i know it freaks you out"

and then wilson realises that house is serious about the confession (!!!) but he can't Deal with That. he wants it he wants it so bad, i think house is realising his crush for the first time but wilson has been repressing his feelings for months if not longer. so he tries to convince himself its not real and runs away <3 made even more poignant by wilson having previously made the observation that house was 1. coming down from being high, 2. not that drunk, 3. probably has had a nap and 4. not in any more pain than he's used to. he's thinking clearly for once, and wilson can't.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

ough this is hard because 2 out of the 4 fics im thinking of (my 3 posted ones + kutner lives) are fix-it? i'd absolutely love to see the kutnerfic filmed though i think you could do so much with the opening sequence in that way that the show makes certain scenes have that air of delirium and panic. you could do so much with colour and lighting and sound and aughhh plus we could see more kutner!!! yay!!! also hilson are married in there. so that's always a bonus <3

[munsonsfairy]

For a valentines fic can I pls request Eddie being your first real valentine ☺️ thank you!

picnic 🧺🍓🎈

“sweetheart? are you awake?” eddie gently knocks on your bedroom door. the smell of bacon hint your senses before you opened your eyes. you heard eddie put a table down on the night stand and get into the bed with you.

“i know you’re awake because i can see you trying to hind that precious smile from me.” eddie came from behind you and whispered, “if you don’t get your sleepy butt up, i will eat all these delicious cinnamon rolls by myself.”

“I’M UP! you are so not going to finish the icing without me this time!” eddie chuckled with how easy it was to get through you.

once you and him were situated, you began digging into the lovely breakfast eddie put together. you were so excited for the cinnamon rolls, that you forgot what today was.

eddie just sat there like a kicked puppy while you melting into the sweet taste of icing, “no ‘happy valentine’s day baby?’ or ‘thank you for being the most amazing boyfriend ever?’”

you looked over with wide eyes and saw eddie was genuinely shocked that you forgot.

“oh, eds, how could i forget! c’mere sweet thing,” you gave him a big kiss with icing on your lips just to make him laugh, “happy valentine’s day. thank you for being my forever.”

he smiled, “hmm, much better. so! i hope you have your day completely open because we have plans! once you finish your 5 star breakfast, i want you to get pretty because we have a picnic to attend to later this afternoon!”

“oooo, where is this taking place?”

“now if i tell you, it would ruin the surprise, sweetheart,” he kissed you one more time then let you finish eating.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚

a couple hours have passed and you’re currently sitting in front of your mirror adding the final touches to your hair. eddie still had not told you where you two were going.

you had butterflies in your tummy the entire time you were getting ready. it was the first time anyone had gone out of their way to show you real love during valentine’s day. eddie is the first relationship where you feel unconditionally loved. there was never a moment where you questioned if he loved you and if you did, eddie was always there to reassure.

he will always go above and beyond to show you how much you matter to him. you remember one day you were feeling a bit insecure and your mind kept telling you ‘eddie could do so much better than you.’

when you finally told him how you were feeling, he stood on top of the table at the diner and yelled, “i am so fucking in love with y/n and no one will ever change that!”

yeah, i guess you could say you got lucky with eddie munson. he is one of a kind.

“sweetheart! are you ready!?” eddie called from downstairs since he was ready a long time ago. you wanted to make sure you looked perfect, so you tried taking your time in getting ready.

you checked yourself in your mirror one last time and dashed out the door.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚

the drive to the “unknown” location was very familiar. i mean it is hawkins, so there’s only some many places you and eddie could go to.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence while eddie’s music softly played in the background. his hand was holding yours and sometimes his thumb would move against your skin.

“are you excited?”

“you know i am. although, i would love to know where we’re going but i guess a surprise every once in a while is needed.”

eventually, eddie drove into a small parking lot that led to lovers lake. it suddenly clicked where you two were going.

there was an area off the path that was in the middle of some trees. the sun shined just right during the day. you and eddie would always hang out there before dating. it was the perfect place to escape the horrible residents of hawkins.

during spring, flowers would bloom all around there. sometimes, you felt like you were bella in twilight and eddie was the handsome vampire trying to convince you to stay human.

suddenly, eddie stopped in his tracks and turned to you, “can you close your eyes for me? i will hold your hand to make sure you don’t trip.”

trusting him, you interlock your fingers with is and closed your eyes. it was obvious that eddie put a lot of effort into this picnic.

“just one more step… and, open!”

you were met with a white sheet with a box of pizza, lotr books, flowers, and chocolate strawberries sitting on top. eddie also brought a jug of welch’s grape juice (your favorite) in his jacket.

as simple as it was, the fact this was eddie’s idea made your heart sore! you also loved the fact that all your favorite things were here.

“oh, eddie, this is perfect! this is exactly how i pictured it!” you wrapped yourself around his waist and thanked him a hundred times.

“no need to thank me, sweetheart. you deserve everything and more! now, shall we?”

eddie extended his arm out and slightly bowed. you giggled and went to go sit on the soft sheet.

you were about to question when he set it all up until you heard steve from afar, “have fun love birds!”

“i see you had help.”

“in exchange for a beer,” eddie groaned.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚

“moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars,” eddie read as he laid on your stomach.

the pizza was long gone and so were the strawberries. you two laughed and talked about your future until you wanted eddie to read to you.

the sky that was once a bright blue was now pink and orange. of course, you’d have to go home but you just wanted to lay with eddie here— playing with his curls while he reads lord of the rings for the hundredth time.

if only the town saw how easy it is to love eddie munson. for them to see the person they’re missing out on. you were grateful everyday to be loved by him.

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Imagine: Waking up Derek from a Nightmare

***Spoilers from the movie! I will try to limit it ************* Imagine: Derek having a nightmare (no proof reading sorry)

you told Derek Not to Eat Cheese before bed! it always Gives him nightmares. And Derek isn't like a typical Guy. who if they have a nightmare they other hug their pillows try. a few whimpers. and move around. but Derek. you have Shot out of bed after hearing him Growling. in his Sleep, ruined pillows from his nails Digging into it so tightly. and he's Very Sweaty when he's having a nightmare. sweating so much that you are forced to wash them in the morning. Last time he had a nightmare. you weren't expecting him to put you into big bear hug. and tangled h's legs around you and arms squeezed you tightly. you didn't sleep that night between him squeezing you so tightly you could barely breath. to him rumbling and softly growling in your ear. you had to wake him up. after 3 hours. of trying to escape his grip. thankfully he doesn't have nightmares as much anymore. they settled down after a few years together

But Stupid beloved Derek! the Love of your Life. had to hav a snack before bed! And it had to be cheese! your family convinced you that they give you nightmares. No scientist proof but you were convinced that it was the truth. So you always stir away from Cheese. and you try to make sure he doesn't eat it before bed. But Derek didn't put much faith in the superstition in your family's belief. had some cheese.. you cursed at him for having cheese. which Derek mainly did to see you get annoyed at him. he loved annoying you.

it was Late at night and Derek Flung from the Bed cursing loudly as he looked around the room. seeing Everything was in place. the room was Tidy minus the Chair of Doom that he called it which always is full of random junk. both his and yours. the photo of him and he's beloved on the dresser, next to the photo of him and Eli , next to the photo of you pushing Derek face away as you hug Eli tightly at his birthday a few years ago. Derek loved that photo. Eli loves you almost as much as he does. the lights were off and the sky was still dark as you spoke softly, "I told you No cheese idiot."

Derek had tears in his eyes as you reached over rubbing his back, pulling him back down as you wrapped your arms around him "what was it?"

"Lydia Left Stiles."

you rubbed your face on his chest getting a bit comforter on the bed as you squeezed him tightly, " I'm pretty sure that if that was the Case.. Stiles would Probably hold her prisoner.. I mean what was that saying he said when we were- well I was a kid."

"I'll be her second husband. because the first one mysteriously disappeared." Derek added as you chuckled as you nodded your head, "I talked to Lydia this afternoon. she was about to tell Stiles she was pregnant." Derek smiled brightly as he wrapped his arms tightly around you as he spoke, "The Nogitsune was back.'

"and Stiles turned into void again?" you questioned but he shook his head, "no- No but it was something abotu.. it turning into a hybrid werewolf thing... the dream is- im forgetting it."

like most dreams you forget most if it once you wake up. you kissed his bare chest. "I'm pretty sure the Nogitsune can't be more then what it. remember when Scott had to bite Stiles cause it cant be a fox and a wolf? just a bad dream."

"I died... I Died."

that made you move as you asked how as he said , "sacrificing myself to save everyone." could see him doing. you shook your head, "you Try that and I'll bring you back and lock you in the basement myself. you aren't leaving us." he smiled as he spoke, "Alison was alive. and I was helping Eli with his gifts.'

"How did Alison look? still 15?"

'No.. she looked older. it was weird."

"because you ate -" you were coating him to finally accept the truth.. Cheese before bed gives you weird nightmares.

"bad dreams.. yea.. yea. thank god that wasn't real."

"God could you imagine if Lydia just broke up with him? that poor bastard. would- we would probably have to watch him for like 48 hurs or something to make sure he didn't do anything stupid."

"Eli got the Jeep.."

"Stiles would kill our Son! he would fully murder him. and us for letting anyone touch that piece of junk."

you both laughed softly at that idea. seeing Stiles losing his Mind seeing someone else Driving his Jeep that he was forced to keep up here. cause he's work forced him to have a 'black vehicle" and he's light blue jeep was not acceptable. and his parking lot can only hold 2 cars. and between his and Lydia's the jeep had to be up here.

"he would kill us Alll."

[charmante-mp3]

High For This

-- Day 2; Massage (Kim Hongjoong x Reader)

Kinktober ML Main ML

It's time, the first smut I've ever posted to the internet-

Warnings; Fem-bodied reader, smut, drug use (just the devil's lettuce), slight choking, implied masochism. Switch!Hongjoong, Switch!Reader, unprotected sex (don't do that tho), no foreplay cause I didn't wanna- 1.5k

--

I could already smell the skunk-like scent seeping through the door.

“Kim Hongjoong! How dare you start the session without me!” I yelled, pushing open the door. Although the anger wasn’t real, I could see the stress creasing his brows. 

“Aish, it’s one of those days?” I asked, not really expecting an answer, but he nodded his head in response. 

“How far gone are you? I need to catch up,” I said, taking a seat on the ground next to him. 

“Not very, I've only had one puff,” He answered. 

“From the looks of it you’re gonna need more than that. Let’s get fucked my friend,” I nudged his shoulder, and he finally cracked a smile. 

“We really need to get you a grinder,” I muttered, pulling out one of my own. 

“That’s why I wasn’t out of it yet. You always have the shit I need,” Hongjoong said, laying his head on my chest. I scrunched up my face as his dual-toned locks slapped my face. Passing off various hits, the world around me slowed and calmness embraced me. Turning over to glance at Hongjoong, I noticed he was still tense. 

“Not enough yet?” I questioned.

“Sore,” Is all he muttered out, rubbing at his shoulder. 

“Shit, what’d you do,” I groaned. Standing I plopped myself on the couch, directly behind him. My hands gripped Hongjoongs' shoulders feeling the tense muscles. He groaned a little as I pressed harder. 

“Jeez, I didn’t think it’d get this bad, everything else this tense?” I asked digging circles into his shoulders. Hongjoong just nodded his head, which was now thrown down. 

“Is that by chance any better?” 

“I don’t think so,” He muttered, still rubbing over the muscles. 

“Shit, Joong just strip,” Hongjoong shot me a confused look.

“Your shirt only! I’ll be back,” I walked to my room, grabbing some oils I kept just in case a time like this would happen. Hongjoong has yet to remove his shirt, instead, he was mid-hit.

“Oh, shit you were serious?” He coughed up. 

“Duh, I have a hidden talent, which comes in handy for idol best friends,” I joked. I could see the hesitation, as he pulled his shirt over his head. 

“Lay on the couch,” I grabbed his shirt from him, as he slowly plopped himself face down on the furniture. 

“Is this not weird?” He voiced, sounding a little tired. I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. 

“Trust me this’ll help,” I cracked a smile at his reaction. Dripping some oil onto his left shoulder blade, I rubbed into his skin picking at the strained muscles. Small breaths left his mouth, they were sounding like moans. I massaged my hands down his back, forgetting this was real. Hongjoong tensing back up reminded me where I was.

“What’d I hurt?” I muttered pulling my hands away. Either I’m hearing things, or I just heard Kim Hongjoong mutter ‘please’. 

“No, it’s fine, just didn’t expect it,” He said, almost breathless. I continued my route working through his back muscles. That’s when I heard it. Rubbing circles just above his hip joint a whiny moan left his lips. Even as I continued, the heat rose to my face. 

“Okay yeah, I think it’s good,” He jumped up, not expecting it I stumbled to the other side of the couch. I almost joked and laughed at his reaction until I spotted the tent in his sweats. 

“It’s not what-”

“Joong gets turned at massages? That’s kinda hot,” I smirked at him, watching his face explode red. The slight buzz in my movements convinced me to tease him, this time without many words.  

“If you like it that much, we can continue,” I smiled up at him as I caressed the top of his shoulders, massaging my way down his chest. Even as I found this wickedly attractive, my mouth stayed shut. Smirking up in his direction, I stared back into his own gaze. His eyes were lidded. A high-pitched moan escaped his throat as my thumb accidentally rubbed his nipple. As I pulled away, my movements froze when his hips came in contact with mine. A wave of electricity ran through my body. 

“More, please,” His voice came out raspy as he writhed under me. 

“Are you sure about that Joong,” I muttered in surprise. Hongjoong, an overconfident prick, even as my best friend, was now begging. 

“Yes,” It was more breathy and his hips collided with mine once again. My grin grew as I pushed him down, sliding to be more comfortable over him. 

“Now, now is my boy a bottom?” I whispered, not expecting Hongjoong to answer. 

“Yes, please touch me, anywhere,” He moaned out, as I fully sat on his lap. A few things of fabric keep us apart. My hands continued up his body, the oil sliding back up his torso. I ghosted both thumbs over his nipples. His head fell back, back arching up, trying to catch the full sensation. As much as I enjoyed the teasing, I needed to feel more of him. Grasping onto the bottom of my shirt, I threw it off. My bra followed in suit as both of the fabrics hit the ground. Dragging his hands with mine, I guided him to my chest. His actions copied mine, as he ghosted his own thumbs over my nipples. I pulled back, which led to a whiny complaint to leave his mouth. 

“Calm down Joong,” I said, pulling on the ties keeping the sweats snug on his waist. His movements stopped, allowing me to grip both fabrics hiding him. With a small lift in his hips and a rough pull from me, Kim Hongjoong now stripped naked under me. Holding myself over him, I had the idea to grab the blunt sitting on the table.

“Well, we can’t have this going to waste,” I muttered. I took my hit and threw a look down at Hongjoong. Eager, he sat up now face to face with me. Pushing my lips to his, blowing the smoke down his own lungs. I handed the blunt to Hongjoong and he took in the last hit. As he did so, I pulled off my own bottoms. Hongjoong coughed out a moan, as my unclothed cunt came in contact with his bare cock. I took it in my hands, running my nail across the slit, pre-cum lining the nails. My hands ran down his length, and I looked up for his reaction. Hongjoong had his lips tucked tightly in between his teeth. 

“You don’t have to hold them back Joong,” I whispered into his ear. I tightened my grip as I pulled my hand up his length, his hips jerking up. His hands flung up, gripping my waist tightly. I gave up on the teasing and dropped myself onto his cock, my hand guiding it to my weeping cunt. My head flew back as he bottomed me out. Pain ran up my core, increasing pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Hongjoong wailed out as I rocked my hips a few times. His noises increased my pace, as they were music to my ears. His hands bruising my hips, my cunt adjusting to his cock, and the fuzziness filling my head. I felt pure ecstasy as my pace grew, as did his cries. Turning my head back down at the split-haired man, arching and writhing under my presence. Words blabbering ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ collectively. 

“Who knew a massage would turn into this,” I said breathlessly. 

“More, I need more,” Hongjoong said. I doubt either of us knew what he was saying, but our minds were everywhere but there. 

“Then fuck me like you want to Joong,” I said, close into his ear. It awakened him from his pleasured daze. He flung us over, him now hovering over me. His hands moved to lie by my head as he thrusted at his pace, which were fast but hard. 

“Shit, Joong you fuck good,” I whined, my hands wandered their way up his back into his hair. 

“Ah, I could do this every day,” His voice was high pitched, still whiny even as he was in control. My own whines left me as one of his hands wrapped its way around my throat. The grip tightened with every thrust, increasing the growing pit in my stomach faster. 

“Wanna taste you,” He said breathlessly, his voice deeper. My lips met his, the hand around my throat holding me up to him. I ran my hands back up his chest, causing his thrust to falter. Although it slowed, his hips harshly hit mine. Even though the hazy pleasure, I could hear the loud pound of our hips. 

“I’m gonna-” His gasp cut him off, feeling my pleasure building higher. 

“Inside me Joong, please,” I said. My hands were now gripping his shoulders and my gaze landing on him inside me. A loud and high-pitched moan echoed in the air as his hips stopped. The warm spill inside me, throwing my orgasm to leave me spasming under him. He pushed himself in and out one more time, riding out the pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” His body crashed into mine. 

“I can’t believe that just happened honestly,” My mind raced at every unpursued moment where I wanted Kim Hongjoong to ravish me. 

“And it will continue, cause now you’re mine,” He said, pushing his body closer into my own. My heart beat increased at those simple words. 

“Good, cause I think you ruined me for anyone else.”

--

Taglist; @abby-grace @toddiiy

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[300iqprower]

thanks for the tl;dr. While I don't agree with all your opinions, I get where you're coming from. Highkey, if you don't mind, what do think of Urobuchi as a writer? I frankly can't stand the man's writings, not only in regards to his "DeCoNsTrUcTiOn" of the magical girl genre with Madoka, but also Fate/Zero and his work on Kamen Rider Gaim.

It's......really hard for me to not blame Urobutcher himself for how Madoka basically killed the entire magical girl genre by causing it to be flooded with edgy tryhard tortureporn.

Like from an objective and analytical standpoint, Madoka is an incredible and meticulously crafted story. ...but subjectively, i fucking hate it, and then on top of that also hate it for what it (again, indirectly) did the genre and really just mainstreem anime in general to a certain, albeit obviously much lesser, degree. I feel like that's an entirely different discussion though, and really it just boils down to a case of "it's good" and "I don't like it" are not mutually exclusive. That's my read anyways.

Fate/Zero i love when watched bit by bit but dont like as a coherent story for much the same subjective reasons I'm personally not a fan of Madoka. For all my negativity I don't actually like nihilistic or cruel stories. Fate/Zero is actually what made me realize that, being the first time I had to as aforementioned go "it's good....but I don't like it." I love pretty much everything that doesn't involve Kerry, which is an issue when the whole story revolves around Kerry.

It's by no means without some serious issues though. Urobutcher wrote Artoria as a completely different character and it causes some serious inconsistencies that had harmful long-term repercussions, the banquet scene is a great setup that as I've discussed before falls completely flat in retrospect because nothing talked about was delivered on, and characters like Abs Hassan and Kariya got beyond wasted, just to name some of my issues with Zero.

But unlike with a LOT of Nasu's writing, actually just FGO writing in general frankly, those flaws don't contradict the ethos of the story. They come across less as contradictions that the writer couldnt be asked to rectify, as much as they do human error and an inability to make everything perfectly coherent and loop back around to the an overarching point. None of the things i've mentioned really detract from the message Fate Zero wants to give. They detract from the quality and consistency of the storytelling, absolutely, but not from the intended purpose of that storytelling. That sort of thing is HUGELY different than something like FGO just making up alternate history to suit it's narrative despite said narrative supposedly being about unity through our shared real world history.

I suppose what it really comes down to is that I don't feel malice or narrow mindedness from Urobutcher's works the way I do from Nasu. Kirei is the best example of this - i'd go so far as to argue Kirei's character didn't have ANY of the depth people now attribute to it before Urobutcher got involved. That's not even a dig at Nasu, that's just how much Urobutcher clearly GETS the kind of character Kirei is [now] meant to be. Same goes for Gilles and Kerry, those are characters that were perfect for someone like Urobutcher to execute (in multiple senses).

Again, Urobutcher is not a flawless writer by any stretch, no one is, and his style is by no means for everyone, because no style SHOULD be universally appealing...but I feel like he very much gives a shit. I feel like whether its all the way back with Fate Zero or his relatively more recent return for Lostbelt 3, Urobutcher gave a shit and did everything with as much purpose as he could. On that ground alone, I'm willing to be a lot more sympathetic to the parts of his writing i don't like, since I can at least convince myself those things (be it intentional choices or simple mistakes) were done in good faith.

[discocannon8002]

here’s a little story for you, I need to just vent something that happened, so…

tw: being talked about behind back, brief sh/harmful stimming, self depreciation, lots of angst and not much fluff if any.

if there are ANY tw I missed. Please please please tell me, even if it’s not a common one, you probably aren’t the only one with the trigger. Anyways enjoy!

Lily is my sister the not real life name I’ve chosen for her THERE MIGHT BE A PART TWO if you guys want a fluffier resolution I can write that but this one for venting sake is just mainly if not purely angst.

summary: Bee realizes that her sister might not be as happy or close with her as she thought when she overhears something she says to a friend.

Maybe I was wrong

I’m on a youth group retreat with my church right now. I’m happy because we all chose the restaurant I wanted to go to, chili’s. Of course, if I had full control over where we went, it would’ve been Chick-fil-a, but out of the options I had I’m happy with the decision.

were staying in a rented cabin type house. It’s huge, but the only closed doors are closets and bathrooms and the master bedroom. Everything else is right out in the open. There are six sets of stairs, I counted myself, but two lead to the garage so if you’re already inside you only have to climb four to get to the girls bunk room. There are no bunk beds, so I don’t understand why it’s called that, but it has so many beds. We still had to share one bed between two people. Me and Evie shared a bed at a sleepover already so we were the ones who shared the bed. Going back to the stairs, the last set is a spiral with small steps. It’s rickety and to me terrifying to climb. I can do it, though. I sort of have to just suck it up and push through my slight fear of heights.

this time though, Lily’s friend, Sophie, is trying to go down as I go up. I panic, and since I’m elevated I can’t communicate that I want her to stay upstairs until I get up because it’s already terrifying to climb this spiral without two across. So she comes down and I just hug the pillar in the middle of the spiral and let out one of my unhappy vocal stims.

“are you okay?” She asks when she gets down, seeming worried and even after I tell her that, yes, I’m fine, she still keeps asking because she’s worried.

I head downstairs and out the front door after grabbing my bag, we choose cars and I choose the more spacious one, with Lily, Sophie and Evie. I’m happily enjoying the view out the car window, until I catch a snippet of Lily’s conversation with Sophie.

“she’s always like that, it’s like it’s 24/7. But less at school.”

I hear these words and immediately know who they’re about: me. I can put the pieces together, Sophie was probably telling Sammy something about what happened when I freaked out on the stairs, and Lily got annoyed with me. Still, I thought Sammy and I were on better terms than she thinks, which I now know.

the last thing she’d done that had really hurt me was this summer, and since then I thought she had been done with whatever phase my mom said she was going through. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I’m still not good enough. Does she talk about me this way to other friends too?

but does my autism really bother her this much? I mean I know I don’t mask at home. That’s because I trust them because I trust Lily. Because I trusted they’d not judge me, because I felt safe stimming in front of them. But maybe I should stop if Lily is that bothered by it. Maybe I should mask more around her.

I tear up and try to stop myself by digging my nails into my legs and telling myself to stop caring about what she thinks of she’ll just tear me apart like this in front of her friends who I love and really don’t want to only know the bad parts about me.

it’s like this off and on up until the restaurant, a never ending cycle of me trying to convince myself to not care what she thinks and not to cry and show her that she got to me and stimming that sometimes hurts because that hurt stops me from crying.

[oddlyunadventurous]

Hey, are you ok? I noticed you haven’t been typing like a 15 year old teenage girl lately.

I mean you remember how it used to be, right? I recently went to a website from 2003 and it reminded me of you so much I started wondering whether or not you had forgotten. To quote a paragraph:

Let me introduce this little piece. You see, preps and goths are classic enemies. The preps attempt to bully the goths for looking funny, and the goths write angsty Livejournal entries about the preps in return. It's an endless cycle. I see the heated rivalry all the time at my school! So I figure, someone needs to mediate this war. And so I chose the greatest person ever - myself. Yes that's right, the preps and goths will be rated on a number of superficial categories. Are you ready for this extreme ride? This is based solely on the preps and goths I encounter at my school, so unless you go there, no challenging my authority!

It’s wonderful, I have to say. It’s so hard to describe the literary style of a child pretending to be a grown-up that a real example is the only way to make my point, like the Indian mathematicians who would motion at geometric proofs and exclaim “Behold!” in order to convince their students. Truth, certain kinds of it, to them, could really be self-evident.

Your angles also used to add up to 180° but since rigor demands a formalization in the scientific field of living your own life, I suppose you need me to type more, don’t you? Well rigor it is, really, and how is your back by the way? Do you need a stretch? See, I know. And I’m sorry, really. Look, everybody hates their life now. I understand! And I get that you hate looking back at how stupid it used to be, how gullible and self-important you were, how you thought everything was gonna turn out peachy. And then you got fucked. It’s really quite a slap in the face, enough to make anyone despise it. IT! The credulous past! Ah, but it! Who will sing its praises? Not you, you jaded idiot. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off mean.

Here is text that believes in itself. It holds opinions about meaningless things but is overawed at its own ability to hold anything at all. It’s amazed by its own humanity. It bounds around on the screen, irreverent and happy. It knows, just as well, that its humanity is periled, under threat. It hides its existential dread under a guise, the old childish habit of play-acting. Here’s a mask, now there another. A pretense meant to entertain, to take the mind away, rather than to fool, a sexless coquetry, a thinly veiled admission that one’s own trust in one’s own power is waning, quick turning, really, into a sort of desperate and pleading hope: Please, world, don’t swallow me completely! I know that everybody hates their life now. I know what happened. It is so traumatic that the literary scientists of centuries ago even created a whole genre - the coming of age story, the Bildungsroman - that is supposed to guide and encourage you through your painful, cringey adolescence. To me, I mean, it’s a bunch of bull. More than feeling like some sage advice, it feels like the whole of humanity rather is consoling you through some unspeakable grief, convincing you it couldn’t have gone any other way, assuaging your infinite disappointment with a shrug. You have a corpse in your memory but it’s okay, so do we! Christ. These people are insane!

Insane! Insane, I tell you! And you believed them! I really am afraid you’re one of them. You haven’t been typing like a teenage girl lately and it upsets me because I truly fear you lost it. What horror. Have you taken ill? How is your temperature? You know I care about you, right? And there are happy people out there, yes, but I can’t be happy because I am kept up in the small hours of the night thinking about you and how you might find it all intolerable sometimes. Do you even realize that there are goblins at the bottom of the earth? They dig a bunch of tunnels and kiss each other while doing it, and put pipes in the tunnels so our poop can flow happily into the sea, perhaps into a whale’s big mouth, like a water slide. Yippie!!!

See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I mean it was, but look at you. You’re red in the face from second hand embarrassment because I typed something so incredibly stupid out of nowhere. And, I mean, it’s not even funny, I didn’t even try, I will admit. But you’re the idiot, there was no first hand embarrassment, I was too busy trying to prove a point. You used to be stupid and unfunny, too, and do you know what? It was the smartest and funniest you ever were in your life. If I had met you then, well, I know this might be an emotional blow below the belt kind of deal, but if I did, you may have endeared yourself to me, so much so that I would’ve become your friend. I don’t know about now. Now you’re 48 and you hate children, forgot where you came from, now you straight illin’, don’t fight the feelin’ you gotta deal with it. Tisk. I bet you can’t seamlessly integrate a Deltron 3030 lyric into your rant about, oh I dunno, why modern day marxists should read more primary sources, or whatever dumb shit is on your mind today. See what I mean?😪 Sorry, my autocomplete thought it fitting that I should flourish that last sentence with a crying emoji so I did it cause I thought it would look funny and it does. Do you need me to make you some soup, by the way?

It’s terrible, it’s really terrible, I’m shaking my head in disbelief. Preps and goths are classic enemies and you don’t even care! I understand that I can dominate the passive income market by making 2 ETH daily through chatGPT, I know that I need to increase my penis size with these 3 jelquing exercises, my fucking teeth are falling out and I’m so tired of worrying that I really am starting to believe, I’m caving in to the honeyed promises that Aquafresh’s patented formula of 23 selected spices and high fructose cherry taste can unfuck the terrible decisions of my past! But after a long day at the factory where you play Russian roulette with a 100-chambered revolver, cocksure that your chances of dying are statistically low while blissfully unaware that the lead-laden metal that the weapon’s body is composed of is slowly poisoning you through skin contact, I like to come back home (that’s the full name of the factory btw, don’t make fun of it), crack open a cold case of tap water, and think about how dramatic the goth and prep rivalry really is. That is because, for a 15 year old teenage girl, which I am not, I admit through week-old stubble, everything is monolithic and incredible. You don’t have to reach, like Gotthold Ephraim Lessing in Laocoon, beyond the mortal veil, to pine for the unlived past of the ancients, in order to experience that quality the Germans of his time so prized: the sublime. You have only but to peer down your own past and you will find that you, too, felt it. The goths and preps are, to a teenage girl, as sweeping as Greek myth is, as terrifying in their thunderous impression as the marble statue of man and offspring being swallowed up by snakes alive. She feels herself, like the wanderer above the sea of fog, a particle in a fathomless world she can’t help but humbly sing the praises of, after her own fashion, on her shitty Web 1.0 angelfire website. You are, au contraire, like the Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, able to be printed on a mug, a tote bag, or a unisex tee, or other items even, on an online marketplace the affiliate link to which I should’ve duly given you but have sheepishly misplaced out of my clipboard in the vain interest of keeping you around a minute longer, perhaps hoping that out of your own accord you will extract from memory, you will resurface, that factoid you once learned about the epic orators and how they would recite the works of Homer for twenty hours straight in front of captive audiences using these long and run-on sentences which - against all sense - should not have worked, yet through their innate and awesome gift of prosody they see-sawed with the spoken word, made sensible the world of gods and monsters to the simple, needy and alone in front of them, and so they brought them comfort.

Please go to the doctor. Or have your girlfriend give you a beej, look- I don’t mean to be lewd, whatever works for you is what I’m saying. Parenthetically, if your girlfriend is a doctor too, well shit, I figure, your chances of getting better have just doubled maybe. But anyway, I’m sorry, where was I? You have got to start typing like a 15 year old teenage girl again. It’s imperative, I beg of you. I honestly can’t stand talking to you these days and the thought of growing old with you around is driving me up the wall. Up the wall indeed I’ll scratch-scratch-scratch, and through the joists and there’s the attic, a fitting place to hide, for I will be able to look out the skylight then without you bothering me. I plan on learning how to visualize Orion’s Belt as many different-fashioned belts, adding and removing stars from the celestial vault as I wish, changing up the big boy’s style like he’s my little darling dress-up doll in a 2003-era flash game. I think he’ll love it.

By God I don’t know if we can be roommates for much longer.

Sincerely,

Me.

[aeoki]

Atlantis - Clown: Chapter 9

Location: Seaside Characters: Touri & Wataru Season: Winter

Wataru: But even now, I still remember how beautiful that brilliance was every time I close my eyes. It was bright and dazzling – I was envious of that youthful, burning flame.

I thought I could ignite that flame myself if I couldn’t associate myself with it, so I created the Drama Club.

But I’m horrible when it comes to creating something from scratch… I don’t know if I did a good job.

Besides, even if I worked hard to make something, I would only end up breaking it immediately after. I’ve always been like that, ever since I was a child.

Touri: I–

Wataru: Hm?

Touri: I won’t break that easily.

You know that, don’t you, Senpai? I completed all of your hellish spartan training without complaining.

The great Touri Himemiya is stronger than he looks.

Wataru: Hehehe… Yes, you’re right, “Touri Himemiya-kun”.

I’ll answer the first question you had. To be honest, I don’t like having those dirty and negative feelings such as hatred and loathing.

I love it when it’s from other people, though. It doesn't matter if it’s positive or negative – they’re all emotions, and it’s much better than feeling indifferent.

But I’m an entertainer. If possible, I’d like to keep my audience far away from such things.

That’s why I did my best to act as though those things didn’t exist within me. I tried to convince myself of that.

I wanted to be all smiles all the time. The tears of a clown aren’t real, you know.

But I met Eichi and began leading a life with you all…

I came across the dark parts of this world and that triggered something. It made me realise that there was certainly something unsightly within me – something that made me want to look away.

But I can only speak according to a script. Perhaps it’s because I’ve lived my life by acting as someone else, so I don’t know how I feel deep inside.

Himegimi, you asked me if I despised the student council.

To that, I answer I don’t know.

But if that’s what you felt after listening to Z. K. Amano Hashidate’s speech.

Then that must surely mean something that I’m not aware of – something dirty, dark and unsightly – exists within me.

Touri: It’s not dirty.

So you don’t have to hide it.

Wataru: …………

Touri: No. Don’t distance yourself from me just because you don’t want me to be near “those things”... I don’t want to have any more conversations with you like we’re talking through a pet shop window.

I want to be like you guys. Because I love you guys.

But if you’re going to build a wall and distance yourself from me, then that just makes me unhappy and angry.

…Sorry, I can’t explain it very well.

Wataru: Right. Then be sure to gather your thoughts and come to a conclusion on the day.

I’ll also do my best to dig into the depths of my own mind.

Touri: On the day…?

Wataru: The official voting day for the final debate will soon be upon us, no?

Student council president candidates were not allowed to engage in debate thus far. We could only give our own opinions against the other candidates.

We’ll watch as our ideals spread to the other students and a long-awaited battle of our ideals will commence in front of them.

That’s the rule, isn’t it?

The candidates will debate against each other right before the voting day and it will show who will be worthy of being the next student council president.

It will single out the “fakes”, who spout empty promises that sound nice, and the “real thing”, those who truly wish to be student council president.

If they’re someone who is only trying to keep up appearances, then that facade will crumble to the ground without fail.

Words that are not said from the heart cannot be easily uttered in the moment, after all.

A trained actor such as myself has prepared for this moment by assuming a variety of questions, so I should be able to give perfect responses.

But you’re all inexperienced high school students.

We’ll settle this at the debate table.

No, we should speak by laying everything out on the table. I find it very intriguing to speak with you, you know. It’s because I can discover new sides to myself.

Touri: Yeah. Then I’ll be looking forward to that day, Z. K. Amano Hashidate.

I won’t lose.

I’ll accept your hatred and all the other things – I’ll digest it all and I’ll become the next student council president. I’ll inherit the bloody crown Eichi-sama created and I’ll scrub it until it’s squeaky clean.

No. I’ll show it off, telling others to look at how beautiful it is.

Then I’ll raise it higher and higher.

For the world to see.

Wataru: Right. I’ll look forward to it as well.

Hehehe. Either outcome will make me happy, be it winning or losing. There is nothing more wonderful than that. That will be a stage even Eichi cannot create – it’s one fitting for none other than yourself, Himegimi. 

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