#It has been a hot minute since I wrote anything so have some old content

[bloodcasket]

WILDFLOWER

PAIRING: Obsessive!Ellie Williams x Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, sexual themes(smut-with some story teehee), depictions of obsessive behavior, etc.

WC: 4k (sorry 😭)

DESCRIPTION: After a long day of Ellie being hot on your back, you can't find it in you to sleep properly at night. Unfortunately, your quick "breath of fresh air" doesn't last, as she has you bent over the kitchen counter with salacious intention.

A/N: Thank you guys for taking the time to read my writing!!!!!! c: 🖤 Somebody had asked for more Obsessive Ellie so I figured I would try to whip something else up. I have a pet peeve for not adding any context/storyline, so it does take a little reading before anything happens. Also, I hope this smut is decent, I haven't wrote a thorough smut fic in a whileee so I hope this suffices. Anyways, much love, sorry for the long note. <3.

It had been such a beautiful day, one that was worth encapsulating. One that could be painted a million times over and over again, and its vision would never get old. The sky was a canvas right in front of you, splashed with its earthly tones of purple and pink, and its low horizon spilled right into it with orange and yellow. You had been sitting in the field of wheat as you watched it, ogling at clusters of clouds dancing in the center of the troposphere. You were sprawled out against the dampened soil, your legs and your arms tickled by the soft straws of wheat, it was nothing but perfect. Everything was perfect. You wanted to drink up every last second of it. The rich smell of the fields, the beautiful view, and the sound of serenity. All of it.

“Hey! You okay out there?”, a sudden shout is heard from your house in the distance, and you peek your head up in response. Ellie is standing on the front porch, her arms crossed and her firm stance telling you that she’s feeling impatient. You chuckle to yourself lightly at the view, your hand lurching forward to grip the handle of your flower basket. “Yeah! Just a moment, I’m heading back inside!” you yell back as you stand up from the Earth, quickly dusting the crumbs of dirt and muck off the material of your jeans. Ellie stands there silently as she observes your approaching presence, a wave of relief casting over her worried features

“Okay, well…be quick, I miss you”, she then replies, and you almost want to laugh at her last demand, watching her fade away as she disappears back in the house. ‘Miss me? All I did was walk outside for a couple of minutes’ is what you wanted to say back, a defeated smile placed on your lips. Ellie was infamous for saying that to you anyways. ‘I miss you’. A repeated phrase she took much pride in telling you. ‘I miss you. I miss you. I miss you’, ever since you had moved onto this farm with Ellie. It seemed like she became more needy for your presence, and this was the one thing that confirmed it.

You follow after your lover inside, the old wooden door squeaking on its hinges as it shuts behind your form. The record player is spinning a selected vinyl in the back faintly, and you sway in amusement as you shuffle toward the dining room table, a grin plastered on your face. “You’re playing my favorite album”, you say contently, placing your basket in the center of the table. You reach inside to bundle up a litter of brown stems, examining your collection.

Purple Lupine wildflowers. You had freshly picked them from the forest, their aroma resembling something delicate and floral, and their small petals smooth and harmless against the curve of your fingertips. You had once read somewhere that they were a symbolization of imagination, and happiness. In a way, they reminded you of Ellie. They were beautiful and full of life, and so was she.

“I know” your beloved hums in response, your peripheral catching sight of her standing in the kitchen. “What’d you get?” she asks as she watches you group together the array of purple in your gentle palms, a curious glint forming in the black of her pupils. “Lupine flowers, they reminded me of you”, you grab the empty vase that is sitting on the table and slip your wild “bouquet” into it, not noticing the smug grin that forms onto Ellies face.

“Why’s that?” another question is formulated from her lips, and you giggle to yourself, your hands cautiously lifting your glass of flowers before you turn to approach your girlfriend-who is now staring at you from the sink, her hands tightly gripping the edge of the marble. “It’s a secret”, you tease as you place the vase amongst the cool surface of the countertop, your eyes shifting to connect with hers. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her lips are curved upward enough to be considered a smirk. You love when she’s like this. Lovingly irritated.

You reach forward to press your lips against her cheek, your arms snaring around her neck and resting atop her white t-shirt, feeling the strands of auburn hair that naturally sat along the slope of her nape. A new track on the vinyl is being spun, one that’s romantic and swell, and you can’t help but recognize the adoration that seeps off the woman in your arms. How she melts into your touch, or how she’s too shy to admit she wants more than just a peck on her cheek.

Her smile is rich, and her eyes are squinted as the apples of her cheeks are lifted and tinted such a pretty rose. “You took so long” she breathes, and it’s just now that you notice her hands found themselves purchased atop the lining of your jeans, “I really did miss you”. She squeezes the skin on your waist, her touch feeling more suggestive than it usually did. Her tone thick and wisped with desire.

“Ellie, I was only gone for like- what? Thirty minutes?”, you giggle as you shake your head at her, trying to brush away the sensation of her fingers kneading into the flesh of your lower back, just above the swell of your rear. “More like an hour”, she corrects you, and you find yourself slipping out of Ellies hold before she tempts you with her hands more than she already had. Not now, you tell yourself. Not right now.

“I didn’t realize, I’m sorry, love”, your hands intertwine with hers, fingers interlocking into each other, “it won’t happen next time, okay?”.

With a roll of her eyes, all she does is nod sweetly, and with a tug of her hands against yours, she reels you back into the warmth of her body. You two sway to the music, laughs boisterous and sweet as your bodies cling to one another. Desire obvious but forcibly concealed as the dusk slips into darkness.

The night is tranquil as you slip away, shrugging Ellie’s hands off your figure with gentle nudges. Her face lay peacefully amongst her pillow, her slow inhales of air proving she’s fallen asleep, and her nose scrunching slightly, initiating her blissful state. The clock on your nightstand reads ‘3:24 am’, and you sigh as you sit against the edge of the bed, taking a few moments to think before you trail out of the room and into the dining room. You shiver while passing every open window, watching the wind disarray the cotton curtains, their sheets rising and falling with every blow.

It’s practically intimidating as you move alongside the walls covered in memoirs of you and Ellie, her portraits of only you plastered against the white walls and- what you imagine- stay forever staring at you. You swallow it all in, remembering her sitting upon her wooden stool, a palette set in her hand as she paints you on a canvas for what feels like the millionth time. It was a good memory, but it was also one that distressed you.

“I missed you”. Her words of desperation are flooding you as you enter the kitchen, and you reinvent the scene of you two dancing earlier in the evening. Her nails digging into the curve of your waist…her teeth just barely grazing against your neck. The way you both had just pretended to revel in the music, and most definitely not in the touch of one another.

You’re trying to piece the puzzle together. The way she refuses to admire anything else but you. The way she gets whiny when you distance yourself for too long. The way she caresses your skin with a burning touch, like she wants to devour you any chance she gets. Its embarrassingly comedic, because at the end of it all, she acts humorous. A simple grin that sits on her features, acting cocky, as if she’s nonchalant and none of it ever happened. As if she hasn’t been hot on your back all day, and now you can’t find it in you to sleep properly.

You take a quick breath before deeply exhaling, realizing this just might be your first moment in months where your lover is not wrapping around you. Might. It was silent, too silent. You had not recognized the sneaking footsteps that trailed behind yours.

“Hey”, you hear Ellie speak up just behind you, her voice thick and groggy, “what’s wrong?”. You turn in a panic, watching her take slow steps toward you, her eyes squinted, and her lips pruned from her rest. Moonlight is cast through the glass of the windows, speckles of dust just barely noticeable within it as they float diligently in the air. The light is falling upon Ellie, like she’s a star in the middle of a darkened night sky, and you find yourself more shocked from her angelic aura than her sudden presence.

“I’m sorry…did I wake you?” you watch as she adjusts the sleeves of her shirt, rolling the white cuffs up the length of her arm, the inken design of ferns apparent on her fair skin. You want to admire her right now, her glow untouched even under the dim light of your shared home.

The way her reddish hair was disheveled and drawn over her face, her eyes resembling gems as they follow your every move with a glimmer. Her legs are bare, silken grey shorts clad against her lean thighs, and you swallow the lump in your throat to conceal the wanton urges you have, to feel her muscles contract against you. She is a flower. Appearing innocent while she draws closer to you-who is leaning tiredly against the kitchen counter. What a remarkable hoax.

“Yeah, I noticed you left, everything alright?”, her arms are now crossed, and her head is tilted as she inquires you, a wondrous look imbedded on her face. You can’t deny your selfish thoughts, the urge to shake her and tell her she’s the primary reason you cannot rest. That you’re worried about her, and not just for the subtle hints earlier today. Instead, for her attachment to you every day, her hyper fixation on your every dotting thought or simple step. At the same time, why is it you who feels this way? Your selfish desire to feel her desecrate your skin. To completely ruin you.

You’re breathless, wordless, speechless, and wrecked with lewd wishes. You stand there in front of her, mouth agape, and no words spoken, and she just stares, confused as to why you won’t respond.

“Babe-”

“Right now…”, you cut her sentence off short, having the audacity to finally utter a word, “Ellie, I need you right now, please”. Your plea is everything but confident, your voice meek and shy while you beg, and almost immediately after saying it you begin to regret it. But there she stands, arms still crossed and her features still appearing shocked. Only this time, she’s taken aback from your undeniable want, sexual urgency just dripping off you. Then there it is, a cocky chuckle sounding from her grinning lips.

“I thought you said you weren’t in the mood earlier”, she snickers at you, obviously smug and acting full of herself, her gaze peeling the clothes off your body by each passing second. “I know, but-“, you start, goosebumps imprinting themselves on your skin, “I just-”. You keep your mouth open to initiate a reasoning, barely processing what to say next before two hands clutch themselves onto your waist, pushing you back roughly until your back bumps against the counter.

She silences your silly panic as her lips seal around yours, molding into your face until her nose is bending into the flesh of your cheek. She’s kissing you like she’s been starved, tongue whirling across your lips until her spit is mixed into yours, creating a lewd concoction off the tips of your tastebuds. It’s delicious, and it’s absolutely vulgar the way she is ravaging your mouth, her canine snagging your bottom lip in between every moist smack, and then she’s licking you up again, her lips not giving you any chance to escape.

“Ellie” you gasp, a dribble of translucent spittle webbing onto your lower chin. You had almost forgotten to breathe. She wantonly groans against you, shutting your pleading mouth once more as she moves her face against yours, catching angles where she can explore you the deepest. Her hands waste no time defiling you, rolling across your hips until they greet the skin of your ass, clutching you through the silk of your nightgown and holding the flesh there with a tenacious grip.

“Ellie!” you pry your lips away from hers, but she chases after you again. “Fuck, wait”, your chest is heaving with every gasp of breath, “too much”. The tension is so thick that you think it will destroy you. Correction- you think Ellie will destroy you. Especially with the way her nails sank into you, fingers rolling circles into your rear, feeling her hands tease your nightgown’s hem. She’s so close to your ache, so close to feeling you.

“Too much?”, she bites her lip with a smile, reveling in the way your mouth quivers with every nearing touch to your panties, “you said you needed me”. What a mocking statement, one that was too true to deny. You had asked exactly that. “Do you not want this?”. She draws out the question, trying to act like she didn’t know every miniscule detail. Trying to act confused as to what you wanted, but it was all to tease you. She knew if she had asked this, you would plead once more. And oh, you did. Shaking your head with glossed over eyes, so full of desperation and submission, no longer embarrassed to admit just how badly you yearned for the woman in front of you.

Now thoroughly bold and acting haughty, she goes for what she’s been edging, bundling up the satin of your nightgown into the palms of her hands and lifting it upward until its drooping down onto the floor. You’re braless and feeling bare in front of her keen fixation, your tits feeling cool against the sudden lack of coverage. You didn’t know if you should feel blessed for the lack of the undergarment, or judged from the way Ellie was drinking you in.

“You’re so beautiful” she mumbles before her lips delve into the crook of your neck, teeth hooking into a chunk of skin just enough to suckle on it. She’s hasty as she feels you up, her nails pinching into your two nipples and twisting them in circular motions, admiring the way they began to swell underneath her tenderization. Now perked and stiff under the pads of her fingers, she’s got you entranced in a spell of pleasure, one that’s brutal and pinching as she encourages your sensitive skin to succumb to her tortuous will. You whimper with every drag of her tongue along your skin, purple and pink ovals blending into your skin as she leaves her possessive mark over your jawline, shoulders, and collarbone. A colorful trail of her obvious infatuation.

“Turn around”, she demands, still kneading into the swell of your breasts, relishing in the way they sat perfectly in her palms. It was like your body was a temple created solely for her to worship. “Bend over the counter. Now”. You waste no time, slightly scatterbrained from even something as simple as her touch tracing circles over your areola. Your head is spinning from all the blood that is rushing to your face, heat deluding your intelligence and leaving you ditzy. Ellie has cast a spell on you. She has made you deeply, and utterly intoxicated with her intimacy.

Your breasts expand onto the cool, marble surface, your burning skin striking a rich comparison in temperature, and you ever so slightly shiver. Ellie is quiet behind you, being slow and mysterious as she lowers to her knees. The muscles in her forearms enhancing as she holds onto your calves gingerly, moving upward toward your heat in such a tantalizing way that it seemed more punishing than pleasurable. She leaves damp, and salacious kisses along the skin of your inner thighs, her pecks echoing tones of lust, and with every nip, you feel yourself clench around thin air.

“Such a tease”, you huff out, growing impatient to her little game of edging. Her hands are now looped around your legs and sinking into the front flesh of your thighs, stilling you with a squeeze. Veins protruding with every erotic grasp. “I’m a tease?”, you feel the way her face upturns against your skin, signaling her absolute enjoyment out of this. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me all week, barely letting me touch you”, suddenly, you feel her cup your sweltering mound, a soft gasp of shock heard from you. She only snorts as she observes the sticky heat that taints her hand. “Wow, look at you”, another firm pinch through the satin of your panties, confirming that you indeed had already been slick from her within minutes of kissing and teasing. You bite your lip from embarrassment, already predicting how she’ll use this against you later.

“Let’s take a better look at you, huh?” Ellie whispers, her pitch so low as she hooks her fingers around the hem of your underwear, letting them grow loose against your hips, just enough for her to peel it off your sopping cunt. Your lips delicately curved and throbbing as you daringly clench for what feels like the hundredth time, sucking in nothingness that you wish was her fingers. She kneads into your ass, clamping down and bringing the skin upward to really see you in full glory, the moonlight casting through the windows, enhancing the shine of your arousal.

“Pretty girl” she praises, barreling up a bubble of spit upon her tongue before she lets it descend onto the flesh of your labia. She watches it streak through the flaps, her DNA pooling downward and whirling around your weeping hole. “I want you to say sorry” your lover requests, and you- who is anxiously anticipating the stretch of her fingers- don’t seem to comprehend her orders too much. “Hm?”, you mewl, ass wiggling against her iron-like grasp.

Suddenly, a stream of pain aches through you, running up your spine and burning into your sex. Ellie has slapped you, her hand whipping against your innocent clit. You let out a cry of agony, eyes watering from her harsh abuse on the area you find most sensitive. She repeats her words, this time, slower, and full of ridicule.

“Tell me you’re sorry about earlier”

“I-I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to avoid you”, you sob out, elongated sniffles and pleads bouncing against the walls of the kitchen. Your eyes are blurred as you look across the counter, catching sight of a hazy purple. The Lupine wildflowers sitting so diligently inside the glass vase. Their symbolization meaning imagination. You could only imagine what Ellie could possibly do to you now. Who would have thought she would have you bent over at such an hour, begging continuously for her to please you into spirals of bliss?

“Atta girl”, she replies, seeming satisfied whilst she props her thumb against the heap of your clit, drawing circles along it and smothering her spit against the velvety bud. You twist your hips from the attention, soft sighs lulling from your lips. Yes, you think to yourself. Yes.

She halts your rocking with a clamp on your thigh, but you could care less about the bruises she might leave, feeling absolutely intrigued as her middle and ring finger dance against your entrance. “Yes- please” you coo as you feel her thumb flick against the thick flesh of your clit, drool swarming in the corners of your mouth as she finally eases her two lengthy fingers inside.

Everything else in this world holds no meaning. Its just you and Ellie right now, bodies finding ways to connect in the most sensual ways, and you never want it to end. She has you so prettily sprawled out against the countertop, eyes sealed shut as you swallow her fingers in, deeper and deeper, your dripping amusement happily slicking against her, all the way to the top of her knuckles.

She’s an expert at this, especially after her many nights seducing you. Her fingers search around within you, finding the swell amongst your fleshy warmth, and then curling her fingers upward so she hits the bumpy tissue. She fucks you divinely, her two fingers easing out just to greet that spot again with a quick thrust, repeating the action as she keeps her thumb sending sparks of friction along your abused clit.

The sounds are just so tastefully dirty, your soaking wet mess squelching with every pump of Ellies fingers inside you, and your angelic moans and breathy whines accommodating it. What a scene this was. Ellie fucking your sloppy cunt as your ass stays perked in the air for her, legs trembling with every blissful pump, and your hands desperately searching for something to hold on to as your loving girlfriend draws you closer and closer. Her loving praises are everlasting as you take her so obediently.

“Oh-oh Ellie”, you wish to tell her you’re close, that her curled fingers are doing a number on you, but all that slips past your lips is gibberish and sweet sounds of pleasure, your eyes rolled far back into your sockets. So much that all you can see is black and splashes of white with every clench around her.

Abruptly, you feel the warmth of her lips suction against your sex, her tongue drawing a long stripe through your lips and up to your bud, kissing your ache away as her momentum picks up, fingers going faster with eagerness to see you crumble.

You feel abused, so much that it feels like her pleasure is too much, and you can’t find any humanity in you as everything is growing hazy and unclear. Your body feels like jelly with every lick of her tongue, so numb and lifeless as she does it over and over again, all until you’re heaving tremendously, stomach rising and falling with every sound you make.

You’re coming undone just from her fingers, not noticing her laughing in utter amusement behind you. Not only did you soak her, but your orgasm spurted out and was coated all over the floor. You’re dripping, release easing down the slope of your inner thighs as Ellie slips her fingers away from you.

Ellie Williams made you squirt. She really wouldn’t let you forget about this, not when you gave her such a show.

“Fuck, you’re messy”, she teases, her clamping hold on your thigh releasing. She stands from her kneeling position swiftly, her arms going to wrap around you to keep your stance straightened. Her face is soiled, smeared with your essence, and her temples are glued down with beads of sweat. But yet, she is satisfied with your taste lingering on her tongue.

You still can’t focus properly after that ripping state of euphoria that took over you, your naked body feeling cold and limp from your beloved’s torture. You only hum in annoyance, letting her cling to you like this, forgetting all about your worries that had corrupted you prior.

You focus your eyesight, vision still foggy from exhaustion. The sight of purple illuminated in front of you. The Lupine wildflowers. They remind you of her. It's always the same.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up”, the auburn-haired girl whispers, lifting you from the counter, sweat from your torso slick over the top. She guides you toward the bathroom, passing all the memoirs of you two for a second time.

The portraits of you still plastered on the walls the same way they had been before. Watching Ellie hold on to you the way she had always wanted to. Staring.

[aerodaltonimperial]

It’s nearing mid-December, I’m loopy as shit due to being heavily medicated for preschool germs that finally took me out, and that means I am gonna be REALLY SAPPY about fandom and fic and stuff for a hot minute, sorry in advance lol.

When 2024 started, fandom was, for me, kind of a shit show. We still didn’t know what was happening with Jack or if he’d ever come back to AEW and were heading into month five of his complete social media exile and disappearance. I had lost most of my OG fandom group after I deliberately walked away from the pairing I’d built my entire fandom reputation on. I was really feeling the effects of the overall decline across all fandoms of engagement and interaction, as things became less community-oriented and more of the (still true) TikTok content creation expectation that we’re still struggling against. It was a tough time! I really wasn’t sure I would stay! (In fact, in January of ‘24, I actually did step away for awhile, thinking I was probably done.)

The year 2024 starting saw me in this fandom writing almost solely for a pairing that A) did not exist prior to me getting obsessed with them in the spring of 2023, B) had not interacted in canon since May of 2023, C) half of whom was not even known to be ALIVE as the new year rolled over, and D) had never, ever been fandom darlings, let alone an actual thing beyond me dragging a few friends into rarepair hell with me.

That’s a really difficult way to be in a fandom! It can get lonely and difficult to keep motivation, and I feel like wrestling in general is hard anyway, simply because of the sheer number of characters and pairings and every single person in this fandom has attached themselves to something different. It’s a tough fandom to be in if you are creating, for sure, because you are really at the mercy of so much outside your control, haha.

We are ending 2024 in a way I never could have predicted, and I’m just so grateful for everyone who has been here or joined in this year or just supported me continuing to write the same crap all the time even if you don’t care much for them! 💚 Thanks to the feud I could not possibly have anticipated actually getting in canon, I was able to find so many new friends this year in fandom. We hit 100 works in the pairing tag before my birthday! I know it’ll never hit the numbers that the OG pairings in this fandom have, but that’s okay, and that was never anything I even expected. I’m just so happy that people are still open to reading my stuff and that I’ve got so many new people to flail excitedly with!

That’s really the part of fandom that matters to me: community. I love flailing with people, and being excited about stuff with people, and bouncing ideas off people. I love creating with people, because for me, that’s what it’s always been about. Being the sole creator gets really isolating, even if you love what you’re doing. And losing my original group I created with definitely factored into how tough I found times this past year and a half.

I didn’t get into this fandom expecting to make waves or anything, haha. I’m still kind of surprised that this rarepair ever took off and got as big as it has managed to, given everything. I wrote a shit ton of words this year as I dealt with the aftermath of finally admitting I failed at traditional publishing, and I’m beyond grateful that people took time out of their lives to read my silly fics. Sometimes people tell me that my fics made them smile on a bad day, or that they go back and reread old ones because they really like them, and I’ll never be able to explain how much that means to me to hear. I am so, so glad that I can make a handful of people happy with what I write. 💚

2024 was a weird year for me. My relationship with writing has fundamentally changed, probably forever, in the wake of failure. This fandom has had some real ups and downs for me that have changed the way I interact with people here. But I’ve also written some things I’m really, really proud of this year. And I’ve made some new friends who are so important to me through fandom. In the end, I’m still here, and I’m still finding joy in creating (when the depression isn’t bad), and I’m just really glad that you are here, too. Thanks for being part of things with me, everyone. 💚

[sehodreamsthoughts]

VINA PLS😭😭 no cuz that was soo good like i never want to pressure u or demand anything but i definitely want ur input!! i love that u add context to it and i love to read what u write about it<33 and omg that was really good i really loved it🤭🤭 i can totally see everything u wrote .. jungwon seems like.. kinda sneaky loser.. but also he’s just figuring things out, and he wants to break out of the archetype he’s been put into🤭

it’s okay it didn’t have to be dark at all like i said, i was just thinking mean!dom and i’ve been having a lot of noncon thoughts but i love ur descriptions of his view of reader like omggg pls🤭🤭 so hot im dying immd😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😫

i’m about to go into work but with dealer!sunghoon.. i see him as like dealers i knew in college because he’s more reserved, not necessarily quiet but he’s just.. calmer than some of the other boys.. could see him doing it just for the money and not even actually using.

i rmbr i was hanging out one time and one of the guys i was there with said like.. i don’t rmbr exactly but he basically said we shouldn’t have to do c0ke in fear, like this sucks, it’s his space and he shouldn’t be afraid of the residence advisors catching him😭😭😭 like BRO it’s illegal!!! ur dumb (and that just feels like smth jake would say lmfaoooo🤭🤭🤭)

- 🥟 anon

I don't know what's been going on with me and Jungwon, I've been seeing him way too fine lately 😭 (Jake's still my number 1 tho).

I SAW DEALER! SUNGHOON LIKE THAT TOO 😭. SO, i wanted to write something short and I got lost, and I don't think this is even half of it but I don't want you to think I'm ignoring this convo like our jake/heesung working at a store (I still have the draft that's not finished hahaha) so I leave this part here to hear your opinion. I honestly think that one of my biggest problems with writing is that the theme keeps getting twisted. I can't do just dark or non-dark content, it's as if it was all mixed into some weird stuff, I thought first of Sunghoon using his client, but then I kept writing and it became this thing that I think is romantic but at the same time it's kind of sick if you analyse it 😭

Well, it's only 1.5k, what do you think?

He goes to parties just to stand in a corner with flat lips and a half-full drink in his hand, just waiting for people to approach him for the stuff he's selling, he's not even into the excitement everyone shows when he brings better stuff, and he knows about it, he knows about what the things he sells do, but he simply does not give a fuck about trying it because he's there for his cash and nothing else.

He's a big follower of you don't do what you sell, and he's not publicly proud of living by that motto, but again, he doesn't really care about other's opinions. If they say he's boring, if they say he's a prune, he doesn't mind because, at the end of the day, he's the one going home with their money in his pocket.

Still, the minute you get into it, he starts to get nervous. Sunghoon doesn't have a problem with drugs, but he has a problem with beautiful things.

As he calls you every time you meet him in disgusting party bathrooms, "Hey, gorgeous'', he hasn't been able to stop taking in your image whenever you appear in front of him, and for him is frightening how he's been so into you since you appeared in front of him with that pretty smile and your voice whispering almost scared "hi… I'm here to buy some candies?".

Sunghoon still laughs at the innocent image of you starting some shit you hadn't been introduced to by anyone. You did it on your own, which was unusual. You walked to him, no old client beside you saying with an overexcited voice "This is Sunghoon", believing they could get some freebies for giving him new clients. You had heard about him around and you went to his corner by yourself with shaky eyes and too much cash inside your phone case.

It started soft, a few gummies since you had said candies and he thought you honestly just wanted candies. He carried a few bags for the dumb boys who wanted to relax their girlfriends without them noticing it (Sunghoon didn't care what they did with the stuff people paid him for. In his head, no one should trust people too much, and if they did it, it was their own mistake), and for the hello kitty girls that enjoyed them a bit too much, but even if in that case they consumed them on their own will, he equally disliked them because they always asked for discounts. You, to his luck, hadn't even asked for your change.

You looked frightened, as if the money he tried to put in your hand burned you with its graze, and you pulled your hand away the second he tried to give you the bills, brushing him away with an almost mute "It's okay."

It was hilarious to him how you would excitedly look for him in every party he attended, asking again and again for candies, and how you would run away the second the interaction was over. You’d take the gummies like a kid, and you wouldn’t accept his money (which was technically yours since it was just your change) as if he was a creep offering you sweets in a park.

He realized, after some time, he kind of was.

At first, you searched for him between the bunch of bodies drinking under the limp lights. You’d scan every face around until you found him, and he would wait for you to do it. He didn’t need much to feel you had arrived, it was as if his body had a sixth sense telling him she’s here, and he would only need a second to spot you moving your eyes through every person as if he wasn’t always in his corner.

He never moved to let people easily find him, but you needed more than a few weeks to realize that (oh, and that if it wasn’t you asking, he’d never leave his sacred spot). Everything felt like an innocent game with a not-so-innocent prize. You wouldn’t stop looking for him until you found him, and once you did it, you’d walk to him and ask him for your usual stuff, and then, when you got tired of it, for more adult stuff (your words, not his).

He never cared about other people. To him, they could all go and fuck off their lives with opioids, and he would gladly sell them if that little conscience left in his body wasn’t still there after all the shit he had done. Sadly, that tiny part of him stopped him from teaching you about the heavy stuff.

He needed a month to introduce you to real weed, and closing the door of an unknown room in the house of a guy he knew even less, he sat beside you and taught you how to smoke it (he really didn’t want you to learn from anyone else. Yeah, it was wrong that you trusted him, but he knew it would be worse that you trusted someone there that wasn’t him).

Inhaling a few times, he kept a straight face to calm you with his mostly theoretical knowledge, proudly looking at you doing it on your own like a champion after a quick three-minute class on how to roll a cigarette and light it.

You laughed when you finally did it on your own, presenting it to him like a work of art and your wide smile. ‘’You’re a fast learner’’ he said.

‘’Yeah, always top of the class’’ you answered, licking your lips and then moving the slightly too thick roll to your lips (he never told you that you kind of overfilled that one. You looked too pretty to push you out of your cloud).

He stayed there beside you, perfectly knowing that he was probably losing customers downstairs with his sudden absence and that he, indeed, was going against his life motto. He was, indirectly, doing what he sold.

The laughs you shared, what went through your mind when you approached him, all of it is there in his mind. You mentioned something about being stressed, then that you were tired of smoking normal cigarettes, and that vapes felt like a game you didn’t feel like playing.

‘’It’s too sweet, the aftertaste’’ you said.

‘’The gummies are sweet too’’ he laughed. He wasn’t smoking after those few first hits to teach you (although you had some real experience smoking already, which explained a lot why you didn’t even cough when you took the first drag).

‘’It’s different’’ you smiled and turned to see him more comfortably. You looked at his face, and he let you, doing the same, until you talked again. ‘’I need more than just a sweet treat.’’

You two were sitting on the floor after needing a firm surface to roll the leaves easier, and after almost 30 minutes of you smoking your own made cigarette, you followed him into leaning against the foot of the only bed in the room, looking at him with the soft light of the study lamp the boy had there, stopping you from being in complete darkness (Sunghoon deduced it was a boy’s room, otherwise, it would be difficult to explain why there was a big soccer t-shirt with the name Jake framed and hanging on the wall, or the box of tissues over the nightstand, because it was either a room owned by a boy, or by a girl that cried too much over a boy named Jake, which was more concerning than a boy that jerked off probably every day— He also deduced that when the box got empty after he pulled the last tissues to make you more at ease at doing your first try).

Sunghoon nodded, and both of you observed each other with relaxed eyes, comfortable with the atmosphere you had unintentionally created. After slowly blinking a few times, he exhaled through his nose, feeling more liberated than never, and he moved his eyes down to your lips, thinking that they would probably be way sweeter than all the things you had talked about that night.

At the next party, he realized he had a problem when he stared at the entrance door since he arrived, quickly brushing off his clients without much small talk, and accepting to give the hello kitty girls their discounts so they left him alone.

He even got angry when the same guys tried to buy some gummies for their innocent girlfriends, sputtering without hesitation a ‘’Sorry, just sold the last one’’, which was a complete lie since he always carried an extra bag in case you also wanted them. You had stopped having them since you learned how to roll your own cigarettes, but Sunghoon still liked to have them in hand, as if it was his strawberry lucky charm.

Well into the night, almost at 2am, he realized you wouldn’t arrive, so he sold the last stuff he was holding on for you. In the end, he left with a successful night in his pocket, but feeling worse than ever, even more than when in his first night selling almost no one dared to approach him because he was (and continues to be, by their words) too pretty to be a dealer.

[astrandofgold]

The Loneliest Feeling

So I wrote this in April, shortly after I completed the game. I was distraught at the ending, to say the least. It’s grim, and vaguely SamHiggs. Will I ever write a follow up? We’ll see.

____________________________________

Black and white. That was reality. That’s all there was. On this Beach.

This hell was now the eternal resting place of Higgs.

Time was cyclical, reliving the same moment

over

and

over

and

over

and over and ove—

Higgs didn’t know if minutes or centuries that passed since he was in his presence.

Sam. Sam Sam Sam Sam. Sammy. SAM PLEASE

You

are only one

that could save me

His scent taunted Higgs, always just on the cusp of the rain that battered Higgs like shards of glass in a never ending torrent.

my

own

personal

fucking hell

keep walking

keep moving

don’t stop

do not stop

don’t you dare fucking stop

don’t stop walking, Higgs, atta boy

Higgs never stopped walking. He knew that if he stopped, he was a dead man. He couldn’t kill himself while on the Beach, but there was more than one way for a man to perish. The only times he stopped moving were the moments when his lungs burned with the pressure of a rising hopelessness.

I can’t—I can’t breathe— I-

Please, sa—

Gasp.

Gasp.

Gasp.

sam!

Higgs thought about the last moments he had with Sam. Higgs thought about Sam every time he curled up in the sand, sobs shaking his entire body, screams elicited that should have echoed throughout the emptiness, yet clung onto Higgs like a heavy mist. Suffocating. Higgs wrapped his arms tight around himself, like he used to when he was young (it helped when daddy spent the night screaming) the thought of Sam holding him, arms warm, breath warm, lips on his head, lips on his own, glorious warmth— breaking him more.

sam——

They had been within a whisper’s breadth away from each other. Lying on the Beach, hands practically holding each other. So close

Sam, I’m so sorry

Sam, I should have just told you everything

Sam

I’m sorry

Sam

Sam

I love you

...

Sam

Sam’s crystal blue eyes seared through Higgs. They read everything—Everything, Sam? Did you see everything? Did you see all of me? Did you read my journals?

Lips parted, the first time Higgs had seen Sam smile. Thunder cracked in his heart at the sight. The strands of hair, unlike the strands of tar that Higgs knew intimately like the back of his hands, caressed Sam’s face in the breeze of the Beach. Like a halo wrapping around an angel, broken and destroyed by a god that swore vengeance on him for asking too many questions. It was at that moment, lying on the Beach next to Sam, that he realized they were two of a kind—She’s fucking breaking you, Sammy, and I didn’t even know it-god, I’m so fucking sorry

These were the moments that Higgs clung on to, desperate to maintain any form of humanity left that the Beach tried so desperately to wrench from his soul.

Hands clinging to one another. Blood mixing, blood on hands, blood on faces, blood in eyes, blood everywhere. Bodies heaving with strained inhalation. The first (the last?) time Sam and Higgs had been so intimately entwined, their very essences mixing into one. Sam’s blood. Higgs’ blood. Their blood. Higgs had clung onto Sam, heaving, pain radiating until he knew nothing more, but the fire from Sam’s touch that burned with ecstasy remained. That same touch was what Higgs had held onto with a fierce desperation. Anything to help keep him linked to the other side.

Higgs never slept. He couldn’t. Time was meaningless and so was the sanctity of dreaming. His dreams, if he could experience them, would have been filled with shards of red and golden hair, sharp teeth that ripped flesh, that had torn Higgs’ flesh to shreds once—rip me, make me what you want me to be, I’ll do anything for you, worship you

Freezing blue irises that destroyed worlds. Blue that he once craved approval from. Eyes that Higgs saw himself reflected in. Eyes that Higgs found love in, albeit a twisted, one-sided love—I’ll do anything for you, thank you for loving me Amel—

NO

He wanted to claw his eyes out just at the thought of her, and how he could ever feel anything but putrid hatred for her.

Higgs never dared to look behind him. He tried once, twice, one more time. Each time, he saw that flash of red in the distance. Never wavering. Always lingering. It never moved. But he knew.

Fuck, no, please—NO

LEAVE ME ALONE

GOD NO

HAVEN’T YOU DESTROYED

ME ENOUGH??

The one being he never wanted to see again, always mocking him. The one person he never wanted to be apart from, a breath on the wind. Higgs fell to his knees, hands cradling his face. Black lines swirled, dropping to the sand below him. Black tears on black sand, fading into nothingness, the way Higgs felt he was fading into the Beach.

Please, Sammy, please save me

I’ll be waiting for you, Sam....on the Beach

[myherowritings]

Borrowed Sweaters, Stolen Kisses

— In a game of Truth or Dare, you’re dared to sneak into your crush’s dorm and steal one article of clothing to wear the next day. It just so happens that the hoodie you snatched was Shinsou’s favorite sweater.

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x reader word count: 2,204 genre: fluff, aged up au (class 3a) warnings: 16+, suggestive content

a/n: this used to be a harry potter fic i wrote on my hp account but i rewrote it for shinsou bc it just seemed fitting fhgjdhsfg. shinsou is in class 1a in this fic or 3a since they’re aged up and at least 18 years old u.u i hope y’all enjoy!! xx 

“No way.” You shook your head, kicking your legs out in front of you as you ignored Hagakure’s poking and prodding.

It was a relatively relaxed Friday night, and you and your friends decided to spend it in your dorm with a bottle of whisky and a game of Truth or Dare. The truths ranged from anything to, “Fuck, marry, kill: Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari” to, “Who was the last person you sent a nude to?” And the dares weren’t any better. Ashido practically vomiting in the corner served as a great reminder of that.

You were just grateful the dares you received were rather mundane. 

That was, until now.

“Y/N, you have to do it!” said Hagakure.

“Can’t I just forfeit this round and take a shot?”

“Nope, that’s only allowed for truths,” she quipped. 

You glanced over at Jirou, a pleading look on your face, but you were met with a nonchalant shrug. 

“Rules are rules,” Jirou sang, taking a swig of whisky before passing you the handle.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Mina’s fierce glare caused your words to die in your throat.

“If I had to chug that hot sauce concoction you guys made and then eat the mystery sushi until I felt sick, you can go to Shinsou’s room and steal a hoodie or something-- Sounds like a cakewalk compared to my dare.”

As she leaned her back against the bed, hand over her stomach as beads of sweat trailing down her forehead, you figured Mina was right. You’ve been in his dorm plenty of times before, anyway-- You two were friends and, at times, you supposed you enjoyed his company. What was the worst that could happen?

“You’re right.”

“I know.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and slipped some fuzzy socks on, ignoring the cheers coming from your tipsy roommates. When you reached the door, your friends watching fervently as you wandered off to your ill-fated trek, you paused at the handle. 

You looked back at them, heaving a sigh. “If his dorm turns out to be booby trapped and I get caught, just know I will haunt you from the grave after I die of embarrassment.” 

“We expect nothing less,” was Tsuyu’s smart reply. 

Soon enough, you found yourself climbing up the boys’ side of Heights Alliance, feeling like you were doing a reverse walk of shame. It was a quarter past three o’clock in the morning and the odds of any of them being awake were slim to none, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach. 

You made your way to the front of Shinsou’s dorm room and cautiously placed your hand on the door handle. With a small grumble you fished the key card Hagakure stole from Hitoshi earlier (which made you wonder just how long your friends were planning this whole escapade out…) out of the pocket of your sweatpants. 

For the most part, it looked just like your dormitory. Only neater. His desk was fairly organized and, aside from balls of yarn and different sizes of knitting needles, was clear enough to work on. Scarves and hoodies were piled onto the back of the chair and foot of the bed--which meant your dare should be easy enough to complete--and a dim light was left twinkling.

Everything seemed cozy and lived in. Normal.

Except for the fact that Shinsou Hitoshi was not in his bed. 

“What on earth?” you murmured under your breath, finding it a bit strange the room was completely empty at this hour. But knowing him, you reckoned he was out training at any hour he could--something that worried you about him--or playing with a cat off campus grounds. It wasn’t unlikely. 

Still, with your feet planted at the foot of his dormitory, you wanted to get out of there before you were caught. Because you knew there was no way in hell for your drunken ass to smooth talk your way out of this mess if he were to find you.

Your hand hovered over the article of clothing nearest to you, which was a sweater draped over the back of a chair, and you took a deep breath, saying, “It’s just a dare. You can do it.” 

Before you lost all your nerve, you snatched the jumper with one hand and slipped out of the dorm. As you rushed down the stairs, you could’ve sworn you heard some shuffling coming from the empty room. But you didn’t care.

Part one of your dare was successfully completed.

Now for the hard part: Wearing it around the next day.

- - - - -

“How do I look?” 

You posed in front of your roommate, trying not to laugh at how the borrowed jumper engulfed your frame. Walking down the center of your dorm, you gave a little twirl.

“Sexy,” Mina teased from her spot on her bed. “Shinsou’s sweater looks nice on you.” 

Sticking your tongue out at her, you made a face. “I’m not sure what you mean. It’s pretty gross to me. I would never want to wear any of Shinsou’s clothes.”

“Then why did you put the hood over your head and bury your face in the collar?” 

Slowly, you peered up at her with your view obstructed by the fabric. You sniffled haughtily, trying to ignore the soothing aroma of lavender and smoked wood that filled your sense. 

Mina smirked, catching the small sigh of contentment that left your mouth as you basked in the scent of Shinsou’s hoodie. “Gross, huh?” 

“Mention this to no one,” you mumbled with a nonthreatening glare, pulling the hood off your head and folding your fabric-covered hands over your chest.

Laughing, she tossed you your bookbag from across as she waited by the door, the rest of your friends back in their own rooms to get ready for class. “Come on, lovebug. You can see him during math in a few minutes.”

“I won’t be looking forward to it.”

You grumbled protests as the both of you made your way down the stairs of Heights Alliance and toward the main campus of U.A. High, but Ashido paid them no mind. Soon enough, you reached the room and spotted Jirou and Hagakure in their usual seats. 

“Hey,” you quickly whispered, sliding into the seat next to Tooru before Ectoplasm sauntered over to the front of the class.

“Nice jumper,” she said simply, voice going an octave higher in amusement. “I knew you’d go through with it.” 

Reminded of your rather bold choice of clothing (that was horribly out of dress code), you subconsciously tugged at the sleeves. You sent a quick plead to the gods above that you didn’t look as foolish as you thought you did. 

While Ectoplasm introduced antiderivatives and indefinite integrals to the class, Hagakure nudged you on the side, sliding you a ripped piece of her parchment paper.

You looked at her curiously as Mina peered over your shoulder to catch sight of the writing.

DO NOT LOOK NOW!!! But I’m 100% certain Shinsou has been staring at you since the start of math class.

Of course, the first thing both you and Ashido did after reading the note was turn your heads at the same time towards the back of the class where Hitoshi and his friends were sitting. And, as your luck would have had it, you made directly eye contact with an amused-looking Shinsou.

Both you and Mina turned around to face the front so fast you were sure at least one of you received whiplash. 

Wide-eyed and flushed, you exchanged glances with her, both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

“I told you not to look,” Hagakure whispered, a small giggle escaping from her lips, sending you three into fits of laughter you tried to muffle with your hands. 

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, causing the three of you to straighten up in an instant. 

“Something amusing you, ladies?” 

“No, sir,” you quipped.

“Sorry, Ectoplasm-sensei,” remarked Tooru.

“We’ll shut up now,” promised Mina.

With a stern look on his face but a slight tilt of his smile, Ectoplasm nodded and returned to his lesson. “I trust you three will be experts of the integral calculus by the next lesson and I won’t have to catch you making doe eyes at a certain someone?”

Though he asked all three of you the question, his gaze was pointed at you and the class knew it. Your cheeks heated up as slouched into your chair. Perhaps if you tried hard enough, you could turn into the seat. 

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring the stifled laughter from Ashido and an apologetic, but amused, look from Hagakure. 

And as he continued the lesson, you could’ve sworn you felt a certain pair of eyes on the back of your head until the end of it.

When class finally concluded and Ectoplasm dismissed the lot of you, you rushed out of the classroom as fast as you could.

But not fast enough.

“Nice sweater, Y/N,” you heard a deep voice call, stopping you in your footsteps. “Looks familiar.”

You swallowed, slowly turning around to face Shinsou--lazy smirk and all. There was nothing you wanted to do more than dash back to your dormitory and hide, but instead you straightened your spine and braved a look of nonchalance.

“Does it now?”

“Yeah,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. “I’d have to say it does.”

Peering up through your lashed, you looked at him with faux innocence. “I can’t say I know why.”

Slowly, he walked closer towards you as you moved back against the wall. He took the excess fabric of your sleeve into his hands, stroking them between his fingers.

“You know-- It even feels familiar.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Just like my sweater I happened to lose last night.”

By now, the halls had begun to clear up, the traitors you called friends having left you with a thumbs up right as Shinsou approached you. 

You coughed as you repeated, “I wonder why.”

He was so close you could catch a whiff of his lavender and woodsy scent.

“If you wanted my clothes on you, Y/N, you could’ve just asked.”

You pointedly eyed the way he was toying with the hem of your--or rather, his--sweater, lifting it slightly. “Well, if you wanted my clothes off this badly, you could’ve just asked.” 

Shinsou raised his eyebrows in surprise at your suggestion, hand frozen on the fabric. The intensity of his gaze melted your steely disposition, embarrassment creeping up to your neck.

“I’m only kidding,” you murmured, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.

“That’s a shame, then.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” 

Biting the inside of your lip, you toyed with the bottom of your sweater.

“That’s my favorite jumper, you know?” mused Shinsou, looking fondly at the U.A. hoodie. “Aizawa got it for me when I entered the hero course.” 

A horrified look crossed your face. You stole his favorite sweater that Eraserhead gifted him himself? Good going. 

“Oh, shit,” you swore, reaching for the hem of the hoodie. “I’m sorry, Shinsou! I didn’t know.”

Chuckling, Shinsou placed his hand on top yours to stop you from removing it. “No-- You can keep it on.” You paused. “I’d say I quite like how it looks on you.”

Your heart skipped a beat when his hand that was still on your ran down the length of your fingers. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you interlaced them with his own, causing him to send a shocked but pleased look your way. You smiled.

He ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, gently drawing you closer to him. “If I were to kiss you right now, would you be upset?”

You shook your head, leaning into his touch. “Upset is the last thing I’d be.”

“Well, then I suppose--”

“What are the two of you doing?” you heard Aizawa exclaim as he rounded the corner, catching sight of the two of you against the hallway. He pulled Shinsou away from you by the collar, your cheeks flooding with embarrassment. 

Shinsou, however, looked unperturbed.

“Sorry, Aizawa-sensei,” he said sincerely, “but what I was about to do just then-- I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

He chuckled at the shocked look on your face, giving you a wink as Aizawa released his shirt. Shinsou made his way back over to you across the hall.

“How cute you looked in my sweater was only the catalyst,” said Shinsou before placing both hands on either side of your hips, pulling you towards him in a brief but deep kiss.

“Shinsou! Y/L/N!”

“Sorry, sir.” This time, Shinsou didn’t sound so sincere as he ignored the appalled look on Aizawa’s face. “I just couldn’t wait until we got to the dorms to do that. Don’t worry though, Y/N-- I swear there will be far better kisses that’ll take place there as well.”

And though the two of you may have been sentenced to detention and cleaning duty for the next three weekends, you would have to say the kiss was definitely worth it.

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[moxleysreigns]

Slumber Party

Characters : Becky Lynch / Seth Rollins / OFC

Summary : A girls night slumber party turned threesome

Warnings : Graphic sexual content, rough sex, threesome, cursing, mention of blood, daddy kink

Word Count : 3,978 ( I got a little carried away lmao)

Notes : I haven't wrote fanfic in years so bare with me on this. Partly inspired by Slumber Party by Ashnikko

You and Becky have always been close to put it lightly. Both of you met at NXT and went through the ranks together, eventually ending up on RAW. One drunken night back in NXT, you two hooked up, turning it into a regular occurrence from then on.

Neither of you told anyone until Becky’s current boyfriend, Seth came along. Seth could see the tension between you two, he finally worked up the courage to ask. Becky of course, spilled the secret immediately.

From then on Seth was always weird around you. It was more of a “you’ve hooked up with my girlfriend and that’s hot but, I’m too shy to ask for more details” way. Becky eventually told you.

After learning that information you quickly put it to use, teasing Seth anytime you could. You would never do anything to jeopardize your friendships with them or their relationship but nonetheless, it was fun to watch him squirm.

Since NXT, every Friday night was “girls night” for you and Becky. You would drink some wine, watch movies, and hang out together, eventually passing out. Seth always took those evenings to hang out with Dean and Roman. “Poker night with the boys.” is what he always said with a few 6-packs in hand.

This Friday was the same. You pulled up to Becky and Seth’s house, walking up the stairs fixing your leggings on the way. You stopped at the door with a knock and immediately, Becky pulled you into a hug. “Woah Becks, watch the shoulder, you got me good sparring today.” You said, with a wince. Becky pulled back smiling.

“My bad Y/N, I guess I got a little carried away.” she responded with a laugh. “I still have to finish getting ready, I'll be out in a minute.” She ushered you into the living room and you sat down next to Seth.

“What are you still doing here Seth, did Roman & Dean cancel on ya?” You asked. He sent you an angry look followed by some type of complaining under his breath you couldn't make out before averting his attention back to the football game on the tv.

“I’ll take that as a yes."

Becky came out of the bedroom in a pair of black leggings and your merch that she had turned into a crop top. “Damn, babe, you look good.” Seth said looking up from his game.

“You know I have to agree, my name looks real good across your chest.” You added on with a wink. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Seth shift on the couch and you couldn’t help but giggle. You stood up, strolling over to Becky grabbing her by the hand.

“Well, since Sethie here got cancelled on we can go have a girls night at my place. You are my girlfriend for the night anyways, I want your undivided attention!” You said planting a kiss onto Becky’s cheek making her blush. Seth sighed into the couch “And here I thought I could crash girls night this time.”

“Absolutely not. Becky replied

“This is the one night I get away from you.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how adamant she was about it.

“Shut it Y/N don’t make me power bomb you through the kitchen table.” Seth responded as he pouted.

After listening to Seth and Becky bicker back and forth for a few minutes she grabbed your hand. “Let’s go Y/N.” Becky said, pulling you towards the door. Seth sat up grumbling how it wasn’t fair that you were stealing his girlfriend for the night.

You looked at Becky with a smirk and she dropped your hand knowing what you were about to do. You walked over to Seth who was now standing, grabbing him by back of his neck and whispering in his ear “Me and your girlfriend playing dress up at my house, I give your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch.”

Becky laughed as Seth’s eye went wide at your words. You leaned back smiling giving Seth a wink as you grabbed Becky’s hand and walked out the door.

“What did you say to him? He looked like he saw a ghost!” Becky asked walking down the stairs.

“Just something to get him to shut up.” You replied getting into the car.

“Now let’s go get some wine.” Becky's eyes lit up at your words and you were off.

Seth stood in shock at your words watching you two walk out the house laughing. After a few minutes he sat down trying to get back into his football game.

He had to admit, he always thought you were attractive and the thought of you and Becky sleeping together was incredibly hot. He knew you liked to tease him about it but he couldn’t get his mind off of what you said.

It had been about 30 minutes when Seth finally decided to do something about it, grabbing his keys and sprinting off to his car on the way to your apartment.

Becky and you were laying in your bed, halfway through your bottle of wine watching “The Notebook” when Becky got a facetime.

“Who is it?” You asked finishing the last of the wine in your glass. Becky rolled her eyes and showed you the phone with the name “Sethie Poo” on the screen.

“SETHIE POO?!” You yelled

“That has to be the worst nickname I have ever heard.” You said grabbing the phone from her and answering it.

“What do you want Sethie poo?” You asked, still laughing. Seth's eyes widened at the nickname before asking what you two were doing.

“We’re drinking wine and watching movies, like we always do.” You responded.

“Well I'm coming to join you.” he replied quickly.

“It’s an all girl party.”

“Clothing optional.” Becky added which sent you into a fit of laughter.

She had never really joined in on the teasing you did to Seth. You saw Seth’s cheeks go red before he quickly hung up the phone. Throwing Becky’s cell back to her.

“Well that got rid of him.” She looked at you laughing. Everything was going great until you heard a knock 5 minutes later.

“You gotta be shitting me.” You both said in unison.

Seth was standing at your door with his hands in his pockets. You opened the door to see him swaying back and forth.

“You owe me $10!” you yelled back to Becky in the bedroom hearing her giggling.

“Yes Mr. Rollins, how can I help you, I’m kinda busy with OUR girlfriend.” You said with your hands on your hips making sure to emphasize the our.

"I got lonely at the house by myself. I brought a present, though.” he responded gesturing down to the bottles of wine sitting at his feet.

“You know the way to a girl's heart.” you replied, moving out of the way to let him inside.

“Put one of the bottles in the fridge, grab a glass and meet us in the bedroom.” you yelled to him walking back into the bedroom sitting next to Becky. Seth came in a few minutes later telling you to scoot over. He sat on the bed getting comfortable, uncorking the wine and filling everyone’s glasses.

“So what are we watching? The Notebook really?” Seth said trying to grab the remote from in between you and Becky.

“Uh-huh, no way! You came and crashed our girls night, you get to watch what we want.” Becky said swatting his hand away from the remote.

Seth grabbed his hand dramatically spouting off about how he couldn’t believe his loving girlfriend would hit him and how hurt his heart now is. You rolled your eyes.

“Both of you shut up and watch the movie.” You responded nudging them both.

By the time the end credits were rolling the three of you had gone through 2 1/2 bottles of wine. Becky was curled into your side asleep as you played with her hair. Seth sat up seeing Becky cuddling you got on his nerves, he sighed.

”You know, you could wait until I leave to get all cuddly with MY girlfriend. He spat a little angrier than he intended it to be. You sighed sitting up as Becky shifted with you.

“You came in, crashed our girls night, and then get upset when Becky cuddles into me. Need I remind you she was my girlfriend first?” You retorted smirking.

Seth leaned into your ear and your breathing hitched. “You may have been her girlfriend first, but who gets to fuck her every night Y/N?”

He leaned over, pleased with the look on your face, grabbing the remote and turning on a different movie. “You may fuck her every night Seth, but I bet you I eat her better than you ever could.”

You saw the look of anger in Seth's eyes knowing you pushed the right button to get under his skin. "Why don’t you wake her up and ask her, I would love to hear her response.”

Before you could say anything Becky sat up rubbing her eyes. “If you two don’t stop arguing about me I’m gonna just have to fuck you both.” Both yours and Seth’s eyes went wide at the statement.

"I- uh what babe?” Seth responded after a few seconds. You were so dumbfounded you couldn't even think of a response. Becky scooted in between you two quickly.

"I said, if you two don't start arguing about me I'm gonna have to fuck you both." Beck retorted as she leaned in to kiss Seth.

"Alright Becks, I love you but you're drunk right now. Let's call it a night okay? I can call you guys an uber." You responded reaching for your phone. Becky quickly swatted it out of your hand.

"Y/N, you're telling me you haven't thought about fucking me again? it has been a while you know." Becky said, pulling you into a kiss. You had to admit that you did miss sleeping with her, you thought about it often in all honesty.

You didn't even have time to respond before she was pulling on your shirt begging you to take it off. Seth watched in amazement as you broke the kiss and quickly discarded it, realizing you weren't wearing a bra underneath.

Becky pulled Seth into her grabbing his hand and putting it onto your breast. You gasped into Becky's mouth at the sudden contact. Seth tweaked on your hard nipple while Becky trailed her hand down your stomach and into your black leggings. Slipping a finger in between your already dripping folds you bucked your hips quickly begging to be touched by her like old times.

“Please Becks.” were the only words you could muster as she took your leggings and underwear off. Leaving yourself completely vulnerable in front of your two best friends.

Becky leaned back pulling Seth into a kiss as she smacked the inside of your right thigh. You yelped in response, Becky taking that as a sign to go forward. She quickly used her finger dipping into your dripping core and curling to find your g-spot. Your back arched as you watch Becky and Seth in a heated make out session.

Seth broke the kiss looking at you a writhing mess just from one finger of his girlfriend. Seth took his thumb putting pressure, rubbing harsh circles on your clit. You quickly felt your orgasm building. The bundle of fire in your stomach begging to be let go.

“Seth- Becks- please I’m gonna...” was all you could say before you were cumming hard, screaming both of their names. It took you a second to catch your breath. You looked up to see Seth sucking on Becky’s fingers. He pulled you into a kiss letting you taste yourself.

"You two have too much clothes on." you said realizing you were completely naked in front of your two very clothed friends. Becky and Seth laughed immediately ripping off their clothes.

Once they were both completely underdressed you got up, pushing Seth onto his back. You pulled Becky into a kiss, your hands traveling down her body.

You have always been mesmerized by Becky's body, every curve, every freckle, the way she moved underneath you. She has, and will always be your favorite addiction.

"I've missed you so much!" you said as she pulled away from the kiss

"I've missed you even more baby girl." You were both so enthralled by each other you completely forgot Seth was laying underneath you two watching with lust in his eyes.

Both of your attention quickly turned to Seth. The whine he let out as you stroked his hard cock was like music to your ears. Slowly stroking his dick as Becky sucked on his balls sent him into a frenzy, he was writhing underneath you both begging to be touched.

"Please , blow me Y/N, please baby I need it so bad".

Feeling like he had begged enough you quickly took him into your mouth, relaxing your throat letting him hit the back of it. You deep throated his cock, giving his balls little kitten licks as you bobbed your head up and down. Becky pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail as she praised you for how well you're sucking her man's cock.

"You look so pretty taking his dick baby girl, show him how good that tongue is"

You moaned around Seth making his hips buck. Becky quickly pushed his hips back down before bending down to kiss him. Your hand reached up to smack her ass and she moaned into Seth's mouth. She pulled you off of her boyfriend with a POP and devoured you into a kiss begging to taste her man on your tongue.

While Becky was distracted by your kiss you slipped a finger in between her folds teasing her. Her hips moved with your hand, her sensitive nub begging to be touched.

"Please baby girl, please touch me. Don't make me beg." You pushed Becky down onto the bed, her back hitting the spot right next to Seth. Kissing her again, you trailed your hands up her body, feeling her shiver just from this small touch.

Moving to the nape of her neck you placed small hickeys there marking her as your own. Seth took this time to move to the other side of her, leaving identical marks on the opposite side of Becky's neck. The two of you were fighting for dominance over her. Becky loving every second of it. The thought of her boyfriend and ex-lover fighting over who got to touch her made her melt.

Seth quickly moved down Becky's body, leaving open mouth kisses on every part of her skin. He found her breasts taking one into his mouth while you took the other. Becky was so close to her orgasm already, thrashing in the bed as you both sucked on her perky nipples. Leaving more hickeys on her chest, down her stomach. Nipping at the skin on her hips as Seth got in between her legs.

Peppering small kisses on Becky's thighs, Seth knew all the right buttons to push on Becky, slowly pushing her over the edge to beg for what she needed most. Seth licked a long stripe up Becky's core stopping to suck on her clit gently.

"Please daddy, please give me what i need. Eat me out baby please" Becky gasped out begging enough to make Seth smirk. In seconds, he was devouring Becky, one finger inserting into her dripping cunt, curling slightly to find the spot that would make her scream.

You watched closely as Seth ate Becky out, playing with yourself letting small moans out as your finger dipped into your pussy, teasing yourself. Becky pulled you up above her head. Getting the hint quickly you sat on Becky's face. Nibbling onto your clit gently sending chills down your spine as you rode her tongue gracefully. The sounds of moans and faint curses filling the room quickly.

You looked down to see Seth lining himself up with Becky's entrance. You bent over to lick on her clit as he pushed in slowly, hissing at how tight she was. Seth pulled you up by your hair, kissing you hungrily.

"You're gonna watch me fuck your girl, once she cums all over my dick you're gonna lick it up. Do you understand me?" Seth asked you as he yanked your head back by your hair, biting into your neck hard enough to draw blood.

"Yes Seth, I understand" As soon as you finished your sentence he pulled you back into a kiss, both of you moaning into it.

Seth grabbed your neck choking you, "You call me Daddy in bed baby girl." He said as he let you go, watching you gasp to fill your lungs with air.

Becky was still having her way with your dripping cunt as you ground against her mouth begging for more contact. Becky stuck her tongue out, letting you ride her face as you pleased. You quickened your pace, knowing you were about to cum all over her mouth. She quickly stuck two fingers into you, immediately finding your g spot. Thinking you couldn't be stimulated anymore was a mistake, you felt Seth taking your right nipple into his mouth sucking hard and biting gently.

Soon enough you were in the clouds, your orgasm washing over you as you fell forward onto Becky's body. Your body spasming as she continued to lick your core, helping you ride through your orgasm.

Seth pulled you off of Becky's face flipping the two of them over. Becky pulled you into her as she bounced on Seth's cock. Twisting her nipples gently sending ripples of pleasure through her entire body. With one hand still working her nipples, the other dancing down her body finding her clit rubbing harsh circles. Becky was a mess in front of you, clawing at Seth's chest which made him whine, bucking his hips into her. With each thrust Seth was hitting her g-spot. It didn't take long before Becky was seeing stars.

She began grinding down on Seth as she rode out her orgasm. Her head lulled back onto your shoulders as she came down from her high. Kissing you softly, cupping your face with both hands. Grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking he whispered in your ear.

"You remember what daddy said right? Get down there and suck the cum off of his cock." Biting at your earlobe sending chills throughout your body.

Your hair was yanked into a makeshift ponytail again as you lowered your mouth onto Seth's throbbing cock. Swirling your tongue around his tip before taking all of him into your mouth. Hollowing out your cheeks you sucked hard, cleaning all of Becky's cum off of Seth's dick. Seth bucked his hips into your face as you went down farther. As soon as he felt you relax your throat his hands overtook the ponytail Becky had your hair in. He used your hair to help guide you, bobbing your head quickly. Sliding your tongue over his head every time you came up.

Seth finally pulled you off of him, your eyes watering and spit soaking your lips connecting to the tip of his dick. You hadn't realized Becky was behind you until you felt a smack on your ass. Arching your back into the slap you felt another come down on the other cheek.

"You look so pretty gagging on his dick, do you know that Y/N?" Becky asked, sliding a finger over your cunt. You whined in response. Plunging two fingers into you quickly Becky felt you squeeze around her.

"You're close already aren't you baby, I can feel you clenching around me. Can you take another finger? I know you can. Breathe for me baby girl." All you could do was nod quickly, pushing back onto Becky's fingers, your body practically begging for more.

Taking Seth's dick back into your mouth you bobbed your head furiously. A hand coming up to play with his balls almost sending him over the edge.

"You better stop, before I cum in the pretty little mouth of yours." Seth growled, "I wanna fuck that tight pussy before I do" Yanking your head back again biting at your chin leaving a mark that will definitely be seen in the morning.

"Hands and knees now." Becky whispered as she pulled her fingers out of your pussy. You obeyed getting on your knees with your stomach against the bed. You wiggled your butt hearing both Becky and Seth groan at the sight.

Seth thrusted hard into you, giving no time to adjust as you screamed in pleasure. Your eyes tearing up from all the stimulation of the night. Feeling the bed dip behind you, you realized Becky was now underneath your body. Sucking on Seth's balls as he fucked into you. You could feel Becky's mouth inching up to your clit reaching down and pulling on her hair.

Becky smirked as she was kissing your thigh. "Be patient baby girl, or I'll make Daddy stop and you won't cum again."

"I'll be good I promise just please, please eat me while Daddy fucks me." Both Becky and Seth growled at your words. Seth's speed picking up as Becky worked her tongue on your clit. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't see straight. Pleasure was completely taking over your body. Burying your face into the mattress to stifle your screams.

"Don't you fucking dare keep quiet baby." Seth practically yelled as he smacked your ass. "I wanna hear how good you're feeling right now." Seth pulled you up to his chest, making you look down as you watched Becky eat you out.

You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, your orgasm was coming any second. "Please, Please I'm gonna cum!" You said in between moans. Your body tensing up as you were pushed back onto the bed.

"Cum on this dick now!" Seth said as his hand came down on your ass, instantly sending you over the edge. Everything went black as your third orgasm of the night completely took over your senses. A string of moans and curses falling from your lips.

After coming back you realize Seth's thrusts are getting sloppy. He's so close to cumming, your orgasm almost sending him over the edge. His thrusts becoming faster, harder, his cock begging to release.

"Both of you on your knees now." Seth barked the order at both of you before pulling out of your sensitive core. You and Becky were on your knees as quick as possible, tongues out waiting for Seth's seed to release into your mouths.

You took his dick into your hand, pumping fast as a string of profanities left Seth's lips. His hips thrusting into your hand. Seth's cock was throbbing.

Spurts of cum were going into both yours and Becky's mouth. Both of you holding him up, his orgasm taking everything out of him. Becky and you swallowed at the same time as Seth sat down on the bed kissing Becky and then you.

Falling onto the bed you feel Becky curl into you, her hand resting on your hip as she nuzzled into your neck. Seth spooned into the back of her. All of your bodies molding together like they were made for each other.

As you were drifting off to sleep you heard Seth chuckle. "I might crash girls night more often." He said kissing Becky on the head and reaching to take your hand. Kissing his knuckles and smiling. "I think I'd like that, what about you Becks?"

The only response you got from Becky was soft snoring. Both you and Seth looked at her and giggled before drifting off to sleep yourselves.

[mrstaeminlee]

Mission Complete Ch. 1

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

You really had no idea what the fuck prompted you to join the military. Maybe it was to find some redeeming grace in the eyes of your dying mother, maybe it was because you wanted a life with as much stability as one could muster, maybe it was because you just fucking hated farming.

Whatever it was, you wished to any God that would listen that you would have buried it in the ground along with the countless friends and family members you had lost to the Titans.

The first week of the cadet corps was everything you knew you would hate and more. Between the foul smelling breath of the commandant threatening to make you puke up the bread you had managed to steal, to working your body to the point of sneaking away from one on one combat to puke behind the bushes, after seven days you had almost decided that maybe digging in the dirt for the rest of your miserable life wasn't so bad.

There was only one thing stopping you from making your own walk of shame to the wagon of regret.

Levi Ackerman.

AKA the man you fantasized about every night when you managed to find enough strength to finger yourself below the covers.

He was a couple of inches shorter, true, but you were willing to break your rule of not fucking anyone shorter than you for him.

You had only see him twice in your life by complete chance, the first had been when you happened to be by the gates in time to see the Scouts returning from what was undoubtably another failed mission, and you decided that what the hell, might as well have a look at Humanity's Strongest in the flesh. Granted, it hadn't been his best day; his green cloak was splattered with what could only have been the blood of his comrades as it didn't look as if he had a single scratch on him, but he looked like a god, albeit one that had just gotten his ass kicked out of heaven. His eyes seemed to be sunken in, and even from how far away you were you found yourself shivering from the intensity of his dead gaze. You weren't sure what possessed you to lift your hand as he eyes moved through the crowd, looking for whom, you didn't know, or what possessed him to raise those eyes to you, but you found yourself lost in haunted silver as you gave a soft wave. The way he seemed to look straight through you, not even seeing you even as you stared at each other, was enough to convince you that you needed to do whatever it took to see this man again.

You enlisted the start of the next week.

The second time was completely by chance.

Everyone was desperate for military recruits, and desperate times called for desperate calls to important people to make appearances in front of people that were well, not very important.

Erwin Smith, Dot Pixis, Nile Dawk, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Rico Brzenska, and even Darius Zackly graced the entrance ceremony of the new Cadets, and you thanked whatever bone in your body made you a teacher's pet because you had a front row seat to the man that had plagued your thoughts every single day in the past week. His appearance was brief and he didn't speak, just stared at the fresh faces, some cocky, some blank, but mostly terrified new recruits, and you could have sworn that you saw a tinge of sadness hidden in the silver, as if he could already foresee the deaths of everyone in front of him. He followed after Erwin immediately after the blond gave his speech about thanking you all for making the decision to serve humanity and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 'I'm not doing this for humanity, I'm doing this for dick,' you thought as you signed your life away to this shit camp for the next two years.

How one man who was fucking shorter than you managed to convince you to trade the next 728 days, 14 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds of your life for physical and emotional hell was beyond you, and yet here you were, standing proud and slightly hungover from the pre-graduation celebrating you did with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin the night before. They hadn't initially been your first choice in friends, but Armin was nice to you from the start and once you very quickly learned that flirting with Eren in front of Mikasa was not in your best interest, you had decided that they were alright; especially when Eren's Titan form had been revealed. If anyone was going to have to get close enough to keep an eye on Eren, it would be Captain Levi.

The very man you were thinking of walked on the stage along with Nile Dawk, Dot Pixis, and Erwin Smith as the three took turns giving their pitch. You hadn't made the top 10 but were happy for your friends that were, you were content with your place as 13th. In a class of over 500, you still considered it a win, and if your parents were still alive you knew they'd be proud. As the remaining members of the top 10 who had opted to join the elitest MP's went off to talk to Nile and the other scared fucks ran off to sign themselves to the Garrison regiment, you and around a hundred other members stayed where you were and you licked your lips, forcing your heart rate to calm itself. 'Calm down, you can't work your way up to fucking the strongest man in the world if you die of heart attack before-'

"Listen up you little shits."

Oh my God he was speaking you've never heard his voice before it's so fucking-

"Most of you are going to die. Are you prepared for that?"

Ah, so Humanity's Strongest was a sweet talker.

"Erwin is making me come up here and talk, so we're all going to pretend that I'm saying some meaningful bullshit. But here's the truth: If you aren't strong, you will die, and it will be painful. Imagine the thought of seeing your childhood friend's entrails being slurped up like spaghetti by a Titan, while the entire time he's conscious enough to reach his hand out for you, and you are able to do nothing for him because you spent exactly one second hesitating, or you were a moment too late to draw your blades, or react to the threat. If that scares you, then do us all a favor and put down that half assed salute and sell your soul to the Garrison where you'll spend your days fucking the best whores for a discount if you're in uniform and getting drunk on the clock."

After his touching speech you and your now dripping panties decided that you had indeed made the right decision in selling yourself to the Scouts.

One month later

It was moments like these, where you weren't quite trashed but definitely more than tipsy, that you had never been happier to be part of the survey corps. I mean, you were in peak physical shape (you still couldn't believe you had abs. Abs!), you were hot, you were fit, and you knew Sasha Braus, who had managed to steal a few bottles of top shelf liquor from the higher ups.

You were also horny as fuck. It had been over a year since you'd gotten laid, and you were using the dildo you'd bought on your first trip back into town as often as you brushed your teeth (twice a day, you didn't fuck with cavities). You briefly thought about enlisting the help of one of your current drinking buddies but after seeing your choices you decided to leave it to old faithful hidden in your pillowcase. There was Jean, who albeit was pretty hot even with the long face but was so in love with Mikasa it made you want to vomit. Marco, who you were almost one hundred percent sure was gay; Connie, who held the sexual appeal of a pile of horse shit, although he was super nice. Reiner almost looked promising but you knew underneath those stocky muscles was a shitload of emotional baggage you didn't want, and Bertholt was head over heels for Annie of all people. That left Armin and Eren. Eren you already knew was out, while your slut senses told you he'd be a great lay, you weren't quite ready for your life to end at the hands of Mikasa. That left Armin. You tilted your head, staring at him as you sipped on your god forsaken concoction and debated fucking him or not. He wasn't outright sexy, but he'd filled in well during the two years of training and you had seen glimpses of his surprisingly impressive muscles under his white shirt. He might actually do. He'd be shy as hell and you would have to lead everything, not to mention he'd probably cum in less than a minute, but it just might-

“Did you guys know that Captain Levi is a virgin?"

You spit the mix of vodka, rum, and whatever mixer Reiner had put in all over the face of the person you had just considered fucking.

"I'm sorry, what?" You turned your attention to Christa, apologetically handing Armin a napkin and patting his cheek.

Christa blushed at the attention and scooted closer to Ymir, who threw an arm around her shoulders and gave Reiner her customary 'If you even look at her weird, I will gut you' look. "W-Well, recently I started helping out in the infirmary because they've been short handed. You all know, it's that time of year where everyone has to get looked at and they give us that sheet of paper to fill out with all of our personal information to keep track of potential diseases. I was in charge of filing the paperwork the day they brought all of the officers in, and on the paper they ask you how many sexual partners you've had and Captain Levi wrote 0. But you guys, you have to promise not to tell anyone! This is private information, if it somehow gets out that I told you this I'll get into a lot of trouble!"

Ymir chuckled, placing a sloppy kiss at the top of the blonde's head. "Don't worry about a thing sweet cheeks, if any of these miscreants here says a word I'll kill them for ya. But we don't have to worry about that at all, now do we?" She glared at each person in the room, who all looked as if Christa were a ghost, and slowly shook their heads.

Your life was changed.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

The strongest man in the world.

Rumored former thug of the Underground.

The person responsible for killing as many Titans as a hundred soldiers.

The person whose squad every scout dreamed of being on, was a virgin.

You screeched out a laugh before you could help it, the alcohol doing nothing to try and make you quiet yourself as you fell onto your back laughing, cup long forgotten as it rolled across the floor. The person who initiated your drive to join the military in the first place, the person you literally dreamed of fucking, had never gotten his dick wet.

Clearly, you had your work cut out for you.

If you managed to live through the sight of Ymir reaching over to punch you in the face to shut you up.

[axwalker]

AFTER

I’ve never liked the way PB wrote everything that happens after Drake gets shot trying to save MC --they don’t even go to a freaking hospital!! 

I think this might have been done before but I wanted to share my own version of it. I hope you enjoy it!

 This is my contribution for DAY THREE OF TRRAW hosted by @trraw 

This ONE-SHOT belongs to The Walker’s universe but it’s a stand alone. MASTERLIST HERE.

I hope you enjoy it!

Book and Pairing: TRR Drake x Alexis (MC)

Warnings: Shooting, coma. 

ALL MY FICS ARE +18.

Words: 2,868

Disclaimer: All characters and some dialogues and places  belong to Pixelberry. 

Tagging perma:

@mskaneko @drakexwillow @burnsoslow @thegreentwin @kat-tia801

@gkittylove99     @no-one-u-know @twinkle-320 @forallthatitsworth @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @princessleac1 

@twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @moneyfordiamonds 

DRAKE

My lungs draw in air, bringing consciousness and chaos rushing back to me. And pain. So much pain. My vision is blurred as if I’m underwater. I can’t move; I can hardly take some shallow breaths. Gunshots, screams, and fire sound through the ringing in my ears. My left arm is heavy with deep, piercing pain. I feel dizzy and disoriented, but I have to make sure where Lexie is. She has to be alive. I remember the gun pointing at her, and terror, as I’ve never known, invades me, carrying adrenaline through my blood.

“Lexie,” I croak. “Lexie!” My gaze darts all over, assessing. A pool of blood, seeping into the floor below me, freeze my veins. Please, God, don’t let it be her. I struggle to sit up, but the sharp pain stops me. Trembling, I turn to see the hole in the skin of my forearm, up to my elbow. The screaming starts again closer, and I realize that Alexis is not hurt.  

My relief is short-lived when I realize Alexis’s crying inconsolably. She seems desperate; her hands are drenched, red. Her dress is soaked up in blood. For a minute, I panic again, but I realize it is my own blood she has all over her. I sigh, relieved, and try to tell her that I’m in fine, but I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

I struggle to stand up, but I feel someone or something trying to keep me pinned where I am. It’s not Lexie because she’s kneeled next to me. Telling me … something. I can’t hear her. Her hands go from my face to my chest and my hair. Huge tears are rolling from her eyes. Suddenly, her soothing touch stop, and I want to scream. Leo is holding her; she seems so broken. I want to take her in my arms, tell her that I’ll be okay, but I can’t speak.

Finally, my eyes fall shut under a wave of dizziness that I can’t avoid. The last thing I see is Alexis’s sad face before blackness comes down.

A thousand stars twinkle in the sky; I’m lying in the middle of the woods. Lexie is next to me, her small hand engulfed by mine. Despite the frosty wind, I feel warm, content for the first time in a long time. I want to stay here, like this, with her forever.

Suddenly, we’re back at the palace, and she’s in my arms. We’re swaying slowly at the rhythm of an old waltz, and I realize it’s the happiest moment of my life. Just moments ago, her warm body was writhing, moaning beneath me. She was mine.

Now she’s here. With me. You have to wake up now, she says. Please, Drake. Wake up, my love. I don’t understand what she’s talking about; I try to hold on to her, but she keeps crying and begging for me to wake up over and over again.

I try to tell her I’m here with her. That I’m never going to let her go. That I regret every second, we wasted because I refused to listen to her. That I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. But I can’t. My eyes refuse to open, my brain to cooperate. She’s so close and so far away from me. This is punishment for chasing after what wasn’t mine. For using Liam’s trust and deceive him. For hurting Lexie. I hurt the woman I loved when I swore I’d never do that. Never love anyone. I shouldn’t love anyone. I know I don’t deserve her, but I just couldn’t help myself.

Her tornado-like personality sweeps people up, and it was so powerful, it drew me in so that I wanted to kiss her and touch her and make her mine.

Please baby, please, stop crying.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes flare open, and my body spasms. Terror surge through my veins as I slam into the floor. Not the floor, a bed. My brain registers white sheets, fluorescent lights, incessant beeping—a sharp pain sliced through me. I try to scream, but something in my mouth and down my throat pushed air into my lungs instead.  

“Drake.” A voice in my head. Soft and sweet. “Drake, look at me.” The voice is outside my head. I reach for it. I need it more than air. Lexie? I try to turn my head.

“Easy, now.” A man’s voice. Authoritative. Hands push me down at the shoulders. “Calm down,” he says. “That’s it. Don’t fight the machine.”

I try to inhale and exhale, but I can’t control my breathing. All the while, fluorescent lights come and go—my eyes. I’m opening and closing my eyes. I’m in here. This is me. The pain. Holy fuck, the pain. A red-hot sledgehammer to my right arm.

“Drake,” Lex says. Warm fingers fold around my hand. “It’s all right. Try to lie back.” Slowly my brain put things together. A bed with white sheets and beeping machines. This is a hospital. And Lex is here.

“Lexie,” I say. Or try to. The fucking tube in my mouth and down my throat blocks the word. I gag as more air pushes in.

“I’ll call the attending,” says the man, who must be a nurse. “Just stay with him. Keep talking and help get him oriented.”

Stay with me, my Lexie. Forever. My eyes fight hard to stay open. A plastic tube and white tape obscure my vision, but through and around it, I see her. Standing over me with brown hair falling down around her shoulders. Like a beautiful, peaceful dream after a long, dark night.

“Hey, Walker,” she says softly. Her little fingers intertwine with mine; her other palm runs smoothly over my forehead. “You’re all right. Just listen to my voice.” Her touch is so soft on my head. “You’re on a ventilator. Okay? It’s breathing for you. Try not to fight it. I’m right here. Keep listening to me. The respirator is to help you breathe until you come out of the sedation. That’s all.”

I wink again, unable to do anything else. Lexie reaches out her hand and caresses my cheek. I move my eyes and see Li and Savvy behind her.

My eyes fall shut in intense relief. My best friend and my little sister. Memories of safety and love from my childhood play on fast-forward—scraped knees and the time I fell from the treehouse. They were there for me. Over their shoulders, I see Bertrand and Max smiling. Savvy is here, Lexie is here, and Liam is all right. Everyone is.

“Hey there, Drake.” A tall man in a white coat is at the side of the bed now. “I’m Dr. Lahela. Let’s take a look at you…” He shines a light in my eyes. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Walker. You’ll need some physical therapy for your arm, but you’ll be fine.”

Alexis takes my hand and squeezes it. “You better never scare me like this again, Walker.” Her voice finally breaks. “I can’t live without you, Drake. Please, don’t do that again.”

I can’t talk, so I look at her trying to compel everything I feel for her. I treasure every shy smile, every kiss, every single laugh. I love her, and I don’t care if I deserve it or not. I’m never letting her go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One Year Later

The day is finally here. I’m not one for nerves and that bullshit, but there’s no ignoring the tightness in my chest as I walk down the street. Even though I have the address memorized, I recheck my phone to verify that I’m at the correct address. It’s there in my text messages, the location Lexie sent.

We’ve been together for more than a year, and sometimes I’ll get texts like these. Lexie loves to be spontaneous. I never know if I’m going to show up and find some dark bar where she wants me to fuck her in the bathroom… or if it’s going to be this really fucking cool bookshop where we’ll linger for hours, talking about books before she eventually buys both our favorites.

Those dates mean everything to me. I love the sex—fucking love the sex—but Lexie is a world into herself, and I could spend the rest of my life exploring her and still not know everything there is to know.

Today’s different, though

It’s not just any day, not just any date.

It’s been a year since the attack.

I touch the box in my pocket, take a deep breath, and push through the doors and into the restaurant. After a quick word, the hostess leads me up a set of stairs to the roof. I shake my head as I look around.

Lexie does nothing halfway.

The roof isn’t huge, but there is a gazebo in the middle that I’m nearly certain isn’t there during regular events. A small bar has been placed in the side, and the rest of the space is cleared of tables and chairs. It will just be us tonight.

She’s leaning against the railing and looking out across Portavira. We’re high enough to have a decent view of the sea. Personally, I only have eyes for her.

She’s wearing flat sandals and a stunning red dress; it clings to her body all the way down to her knees before flaring out. I will never know how she walks in the damn thing, but I appreciate how good her ass and tiny waist look on it as I walk over and lean against the railing next to her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have me jumping on a plane to find you this time.” Something she occasionally does. She loves to travel. And I love her: ‘Surprise, I’m in Athenes, come get me’ texts.

“I did consider it.” Lexie turns to me with a grin. Her mouth is painted a crimson shade identical to her dress. Fuck, the woman is so beautiful it makes my chest ache. Not just her face. All of her, inside and out. She bumps me with her elbow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.”

Her sexy grin turns into a full on smile that lights up her entire face. “You’re such a guy. All it takes is a short dress and a red lipstick.” She teases.

“It’s not that.” I take her hand and tug her toward the table set up for us. As we walk over, I study her expression. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Lexie catches my raised eyebrow and sighs. “Look, this day is never going to be easy for me. I thought I lost you, but I promise I’m okay.” She hesitates. “How are you holding up?”

I answer her honestly. “I’m fine. I know this was a horrible day to you, but I barely remember anything.” I take Lexie’s hand and brush my mouth over her knuckles. “So, why’d you pick this place?”

She looks around, the light wind pulling at her silky hair. “It’s romantic.” She turns her hand in mine to lace our fingers together. “We’ve both been working a lot lately. While I fully intend to take you home, so you fuck my brains out, I thought it’d be a nice change of pace to have a nice Italian dinner first.” She smiles. “And this place has a cool seasonal menu.”

The bartender delivers drinks that Lexie must have ordered for us—both Macallan’s 18 years. We order and then sip in silence for a few moments. I shift the ring box, an ever-present reminder of what I plan for tonight at the beach.

I’m not used to feeling off-center. I sure as fuck have wasted too much time doubting myself. I do not doubt that I love her wildly. That she’s the woman for me. It’s her answer that frightens me.

And I’m still not sure tonight is the night for this.

“Drake.”

I realize I’ve been spacing out and grimace. “Sorry. What did you say?”

Lexie leans in, her expression going playful. “I said, ‘Is that a box in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?’”

I follow her gaze down to where the square is very plainly in view pressed against the slacks of my front pocket. “Well, fuck.”

Her eyes go wide. “Seriously? It’s not earrings or a bracelet or something?”

I pull the box out of my pocket, and I’m fucked up to realize my palms are sweaty. Jesus fuck, this is not how I planned to do this, but here we are. “It’s not earrings or a necklace, no.” I set the box on the table between us and take a breath. This might not be how I planned to go about things, but that doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Very little goes to plan when Lexie is involved; that’s one of the things I love most about her. I’ve learned to roll with the punches.

I take Lexie’s hands and hold her gaze.

“That night, I was terrified. When I saw that gun aimed at you, I thought I might lose you. And I can’t live without you.” Fuck, this is harder than I expected. It’s not the opening myself up that’s so challenging. No subject is off-limits with us. It’s more that I want the perfect words to describe how I feel, and I’m shit at words. I’m not a damn poet. I’m just me, and just me will have to be perfect because she deserves nothing less than perfection. “This year has been really fucking good, O’Brien. Every time I think I can’t love you more, you go and prove me wrong. I love the adventures and shit we get into together, just like I love the long afternoons we spend with takeout and movies and board games and shit. And the lazy mornings in bed. I love it all.”

I release one of her hands to open the box. It’s an heirloom, but it meant so much to my grandmother, I hope she likes it. Lexie deserves perfect. It’s a single ruby against a simple setting that lets the gem stand on its own.

Lexie stares at it for a long moment and then at me. “Drake, that’s so perfect.”

“You’re one hell of a woman.” I don’t move, barely breathe. “Will you marry me, Lexie?”

She screams and throws herself at me. “Of course I will.” Her lower lip quivers a little. “Damn, you’re going to make me cry after saying all those sweet, perfect things.” She holds still while I slip the ring onto her finger. She holds it up, smiling at the way it glints in the city lights. “A perfect fit.”

“Just like us.”

“Just like us,” she repeats. A heartbeat passes. Another as I try to rein myself. Then I lean down, take her face in my hands, and kiss her desperately like she’s the last thing I’ll ever taste. I kiss her with the power surging through my veins, with all the strength of my desire and happiness over this day. With all the want that’s burning through me—want of more than just her body. Everything I long for, everything I hold precious, I pour into her mouth—and my Lex responds beautifully. Her arms twine around my waist, pressing her soft belly against me. I’m so damn hard, I just want to push myself against her until she spreads her legs and lets me in. Instead, I slide my tongue into the softness of her mouth. She gasps. It makes me smile around her lips, knowing that I can make my girl gasp with just a slip of my tongue. I explore her slowly, wrapping an arm around her back and cradling her head, so when I thrust my tongue into the hot, soft sanctuary of her sexy mouth, she doesn’t have to work to stay upright. I kiss her soft and slow, and longer, harder until she’s gasping and my hand is slowly caressing her neck. Her back is pressed against the rail, and I’m thrusting against her. She’s rocking against me, too, and I stop. I see the waitress coming. We’ll have to wait a few hours until we’re together at the cabin, and I have time to explore every inch of her. Even if I know, it will never be enough.  

She’s blushing, and it’s so fucking adorable I want to kiss her all over again. “You know, for a guy who says you’re not good with words, that was one hell of a proposal.”

“I just love you so fucking much, baby.”

“That’s why I’m going to marry you.” She hooks the back of my neck and brings me down for a kiss.

Lexie leans back and meets my gaze. “I don’t suppose you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should pay the tab, get the food to go, and take it back to our cabin.”

“A man after my own heart.” She kisses me again, sweeter this time. “I love you, Drake Walker. So fucking much. I can’t wait to marry you.”

[anthonycrowleymoved]

I know this is old discourse but in light of destiel becoming canon, what are your thoughts on neil gaiman not allowing Crowley and Aziraphale to be gay lovers? He said that they're angels, not men, so is that supposed to imply that they're not gay simply cuz they're non-binary (so they're asexual)? I just wanna know if they'e in love or not lol. I ship them so much.

yeah okay this is gonna have to be tagged neil discourse because thinking about this over a year later i’m still mad huh

so like. i know very well what he said at the time. he was basically like, and i’m paraphrasing but that’s because i simply do not care enough to give a direct quote but on twitter he was like ‘oh well angels don’t UNDERSTAND human concepts like GENDER and SEXUAL ATTRACTION so NO they’re NOT GAY’ and then someone was like ‘but they’re in love right?’ and he was like ‘of course.’ right? everyone agrees that’s what happened right after the show aired? and like, okay, i’m not going to begrudge people seeing this as representative of themselves if they’re nb and/or ace, that’s cool and fine, and you do you. i find it interesting that i saw a ton more criticism about it on here than on twitter, but that’s probably just more indicative of who i’m following and how much i’m on here than anything else. anyway.

let’s break this bullshit down and explain piece by piece why i think neil’s quote unquote representation in gomens is a hot garbage fire and why it kind of rubbed me the wrong way from the moment i saw it.

1. he posted it on twitter. he wrote the script and could have like, you know, put it into the show, if them being In Love was like, actually part of the story. he had the ability to do that. gomens was already going to piss off right wing groups because of how it treats religion, this wasn’t something i legitimately think amazon/the beeb would have just said ‘no’ to if neil was serious about it. mean, maybe that’s a bit far into conspiracy territory, but i truly believe if they really wanted to make azcrow canon the one person who could have managed getting a scene would have been the author/showrunner. and because he didn’t if you’re a casual viewer who’s not fucking following his goddamned twitter seeing gay representation is now a rorschach test

‘they don’t adhere to human ways of thinking about gender and sexuality’ MANY THOUGHTS HERE but let’s start with

2. i think hallie originally said this and neil i know you wrote the book but like. did you read the book neil. because i thought one of the main points of it was that aziraphale and crowley had effectively ‘gone native’ and saw themselves more like humans than like celestial beings. and they’d been on earth for all of human history. it’s a bad take i’m sorry i know he literally wrote it but like really. really.

3. look i’m nb and i’d love some nb rep. but that was not nb rep. those were two cis male actors playing (largely) male presenting characters with absolutely no in-text indications that they aren’t cis. there’s one (a few? god it’s been a minute since i watched the show) character referred to by singular ‘they’ and it’s not aziraphale or crowley. and like, look, i get that in real life there’s nb people who don’t go by gender neutral pronouns and that’s cool and fine because that’s what those people feel inside. but, like, this isn’t real life, it’s a tv show, and referring to male presenting characters as he/him and then occasionally putting them in feminine clothing isn’t representation because people who aren’t looking for that kind of representation aren’t going to see it, they’re going to see a joke about a man in a dress

4. and i’m not ace so i can’t speak on that, but i do remember at the time ace people being like ‘that....was not ace rep’ so like, make of that what you will. again, i’m not going to tell you you can’t see them as nb and/or ace, but like, i’m just asking you, was that really representation? like, was it? in your heart like, would you have been happy with that representation if neil didn’t tell you it was representation? because if you’re just starved for content, that’s FINE, you’re ALLOWED, all i’m asking you is to not praise the creator for doing fuck all.

5. ‘of course [they’re in love]’ again where??? where??? where is it neil. where is it in the actual text of the show. like there’s in text evidence that they love each other platonically and there’s lots of jokes made by other characters but like. i hate to say that but that’s it. i don’t know why this off the cusp response still makes my blood boil but boy does it

6. i don’t want to go looking for it because i’ve done that like six times but there’s a post on neil’s tumblr from before the show dropped about how there would be moments that people who ship it would be happy with but it wouldn’t become canon. you can look it up i swear he said that in like....december of 2018ish? something like that. which, again, is fine on its own, but combined with the fact that after he was like ‘lmao that’s what i was going for’......not my favorite look

what i’m saying is like, if he wanted to create an actual queer narrative he could have but he just like, chose not to and then when he realized he could have people watching his show just because they’re thirsty for representation that isn’t there i think he went ‘oh i’ll jk rowling this’ i don’t KNOW that that’s what happened but, like, that’s what it looks like to me.

i used to regularly refer to the “representation” in gomens as nu-queerbaiting, which i still like as a term, because to me it’s the person in charge (not the actors, usually, unless they have some say in the writing process) going, oh no they’re totally in love with each other totally trust me :) and then like, they’re not, not really, not to the people who like, watch the show but don’t fucking follow the author on twitter. and that’s. i’m sorry, that’s not canon to me.

and, to be honest, how this is presented honestly makes me more angry than if it was just maybe in-universe wink wink nudge nudge, because i’m USED to queerbaiting and i know that like, almost nothing ever ever ever comes of it and i get it and i like having fun anyways, so i deal. and like, i was a book fan before the show came out. the book was written in the late 80s, and i knew that it wasn’t going to be anywhere near as gay as the fandom has made that work for thirty goddamned years, and i was fine with that. like, going into it, i joked, but it was fine because it was a relatively faithful adaption of a book i like. i wasn’t looking for gay representation, even though i ship aziraphale and crowley.

but like, there was this wave of people who came looking for representation, and the show is so vague on that concept that they saw it, but it’s like. it’s not actually really there. there’s no one saying ‘yes they’re really irl in love.’ there’s two male-presenting characters who COULD be in love, if you choose to view it like that, but maybe aren’t. and like, that’s FINE, on it’s own, but i hate that someone in a position of power said ‘no you’re right lmao’ even though he didn’t do shit. it was made in 2019. queer representation should be better than that. i’m not patting neil on the back for doing literally nothing.

so like, tldr: yeah the rep is bad in my opinion!!! it’s not good!!!! i don’t like how neil handled it and it’s gross!!!! i hope this answers your question!!!!

anyway that being said azcrow is such a good ship anyway, so like, why does it matter if they’re canon? ship em anyways no one can stop me from doing it even though how it was handled by the actual creator is a garbage fire when you look at it for more than like, thirty seconds. like......why must a ship be ‘canon’? is it not enough to read a book and see two celestial beings, in love with humanity?

[dark-mnjiro]

‘cause i want you [on your knees]

Theme: wet dream, sexually explicit dream, sexual fantasy, 707 x f!mc/reader

Warnings: language, sexually explicit, voyeurism, f!masturbation

Author’s Note: I have no idea where this came from but here it is. I low key snorted at the ending though. I hope you all enjoy. It’s been a while since I wrote anything remotely “sexy” so I’m sorry that its terrible.

Fixed lines of green text filled the screen as Seven’s fingers typed vigorously, glancing up every so often at the long lines of code. He had been at this job for hours it seemed. A sigh fell from his lips as he leaned back in his chair, using his hand to brush back the loose strands of hair from his face. He felt as though his head was going to explode from this work… and he knew Vanderwood would be stopping by soon to make sure he was completing his duties to the agency. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, rubbing his temples. “I need a break…”

His gaze fell on the other screen on his desk, which flooded with smaller angles of closed-captioned security footage of Rika’s old apartment. His lips curled into a smile as he caught you walking by the hallway camera and glancing up and giving him a small wave and a smile. It was one of the few highlights of his day, seeing that wave and that smile.

He almost caught himself waving back to you.

“Damn,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “What the hell am I doing?”

Seven had played out numerous scenarios in his head of what if between the two of you. And while he knew nothing could come of it, it was still fun for him to fantasize about the strange relationship he had developed with the stranger who had stumbled onto Rika’s apartment one day. He found himself slipping further and further into his imagination every time he saw your smile light up the small screen.

Chewing on his lower lip, he sat up, grabbing the mouse and double-clicking on the camera in your bedroom. His honey-colored eyes observed as you danced around the room in an almost playful fashion. He could roughly guess that you were playing some upbeat music as the corner of his lip curled up in a lopsided grin. 

“She’s too cute,” he commented, resting his chin in his hand as a content sigh fell from his lips. “...too cute.”

Moments like this almost made him forget the danger you were both in… the hacker that had caused you to stumble upon the application that introduced both of you. The bomb that Rika had planted in the apartment…

“Oh shit,” Seven hissed as he tore his eyes away from the screen and back to his work. “I have to work on the hacker… who knows if he would just show up at the apartment and hurt her…”

But his gaze slowly caught you moving around the bedroom again. “Oh fuck…” he whispered when he noticed you were slowly undressing in front of the camera. He felt his embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck before blossoming over his cheeks. He watched as you slowly turned your back to the camera before slipping off your oversized sweater. 

His eyes widened as he leaned into the screen. “I shouldn’t do this…” he mumbled, chewing on his lower lip more. He couldn’t believe this was happening as he watched your hands move behind your body to unhook your bra. “She has to know—”

You turned to gaze over your shoulder before your eyes playfully narrowed at the camera. You took your bra and tossed it aside before giving Seven a wave through the camera. 

“...she does know…”

You slowly moved to push down the black leggings you were wearing, revealing the white pair of cotton panties underneath. Covering your breasts, you slowly turned back to face the camera before backing onto the bed. Laying back, you peeled your hands away from your breasts. 

Seven sat back on his computer chair. “God, forgive me,” he mumbled before taking the mouse and clicking a button to zoom in on you. His eyes narrowed as he spied you, reaching for your phone. “Oh, no. She isn’t—”

Your name lit up on the screen of his cellphone. He slowly grabbed it, sliding his finger over the screen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Seven hissed into the phone. 

“I know you watch me all the time, Seven,” you teased back. “Maybe I want to give you a private show.”

“This isn’t-”

You merely giggled in response, the sound alone was enough to make his face flush bright red once again. “Don’t act like you haven’t watched me undressing before, Seven,” you whispered.

“I-I,” he stuttered as he felt a lump growing in his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Seven,” you said gently. “It’s okay… you can watch me. Just look at the screen.”

His eyes slowly moved back to the image of you laying back on the bed with a coy smile plastered on your face. He could feel his heart beginning to race as your hands moved down your body, revealing your breasts on screen. This couldn’t be real, he thought as he nervously chewed on his lower lip while he watched you slip off the cotton panties before tossing the clothing haphazardly onto the floor. 

“Like what you see?” you asked as you spread open your legs for him as your hand slipped between your thighs. 

Seven swore under his breath as he could feel a bulge in his pants beginning to harden. “That’s not fair… any man would,” he mumbled into the phone before hearing a small moan from you. His eyes darted toward the screen as he watched your fingers move to tease your clit. A shudder moved down his spine as he heard another breathy moan escape your lips. This was becoming too much… and if you didn’t watch yourself - he would be unable to stop himself. 

“Please, Seven. I want to make you feel good,” you whined, your hips moving against your hand as two digits dipped into your core. 

Swallowing hard, Seven couldn’t find his own words to respond. God, how much he wanted to rush over to that apartment and take you as his own… your teasing was only fueling his desire… “Fuck,” he groaned as his hands slipped to the bulge, begging him for release in his jeans. “You have no idea how bad I want you,” he cried. 

“How soon can you be over here, Seven?” you whined again. 

He shifted in his computer chair, weighing the options in his mind. Was it worth it? Could he keep denying you much longer? “Te-ten minutes,” He said quickly as he jumped to his feet. “Ten minutes tops.”

“Hurry Seven~”

He moved to hang up the call before feeling a sharp pain in the back of his head before his forehead slammed into the desk. He shot up and stared at the security footage. “Oh-oh no…”

“What the hell were you doing sleeping at your desk!” Vanderwood shouted at him. “You’re supposed to be working!”

Seven felt his heart drop to his stomach. “Just a dream,” he mumbled as he watched you sleeping soundly on the footage in your room. “Jesus Christ…” He could feel red hot embarrassment blossoming over his face and prayed that Vanderwood didn’t notice the erection in his pants. How could his imagination get so out of control?

“707!” Vanderwood yelled again, trying to gain the red head’s attention. 

Shaking his head, he stood up before walking away from his desk. “I-I’ll be right back!”

“Where are you going?!”

“...I need to pray.”

[eutaerpe]

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings—  smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary —  the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

 Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

 You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

 Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

 You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

 Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

 You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

 Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

 You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

 Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

 Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

 Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

 You

[12.52]

;p

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

 Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

 You

[12.52]

i

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

 Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

 You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

 Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

 You

[12.53]

you didn’t

 Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

 Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

 Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

/

 The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

 Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

 Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

 (“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

 The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

/

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

/

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

/

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

[hopecountyisforlovers]

movie night;

rating: general

pairing: martin blackwood x xandyr jameson

words: 2273

summary: i sat down and said "i'm gonna write martin and xandyrs first kiss" and what i actually wrote is 2200 words of pining with one paragraph about kissing. #oops

----------x----------

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when Xan fell in love with Martin, in the same way it's hard to pinpoint the exact moment the sun rises in the morning. The more he thinks about it, all the most natural things in the universe seem to happen that way- in the spaces between blinks, when you aren't exactly paying attention.

Martin's makeshift bedroom smells like old papers and discarded academia, just like the rest of the Institute- and yet it's weaker here. Overshadowed by lemons and tea and raw sunshine. Xan fidgets, nervous- sometimes he cannot help but think that he is polluting this space just by being here. That it's an act of pure selfishness that he's here almost every night anyway. Stacks of unfiled something-or-other forms litter the floor of the dimly lit room, some with old rings from discarded cups of tea where he's clearly been using them as makeshift desks.

Xan swallows hard- his mouth is dry, his heart racing. He's considering leaving- considering telling Martin he's had an emergency and that he has to leave him alone in this dark, depressing place for the night. It'd hurt him in the moment, sure, and he'd hate himself for the look of shattering that would pass over his soft, round features- but it wouldn't hurt him as much in the long run, as much as if he found out the truth about him.

At least- that's what he tells himself. But like everything else about him, it's a lie. If he left.... leaving would be even more selfish than staying. Martin needs someone, now- and in his more extreme flights of fancy, he can sometimes delude himself into thinking that someone might be him.

Light floods into the room from outside as the door opens- Martin smiles at him, all freckles and white teeth and fluorescents reflecting joyfully off his round glasses, and Xan would swear on all the things that were holy the light was coming directly from him. Had he really been thinking about leaving just a second ago? He's pushing a small cart with an ancient TV atop it, sitting squatly on the haunches of an equally-as-ancient VHS player. And of course- two cups of tea, adorning either side of the cart like decorations. Underneath is a tray of cupcakes, on top of a stack of assorted tapes- had he made them or bought them? Xan doesn't think he would care if he was trying to poison him with them.

"S-sorry I'm so late! I thought, well- it's a bit boring in here, with nothing to really uh, do-" He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, "So I thought we could, er- put on a movie or two! I mean, if you want. If not, well, I could take it back, or-"

Xan shakes his head rapidly in denial- not because he cares particularly whether or not they put on a movie, but because he doesn't want him to leave. "A few movies sounds....nice. As long as they aren't, uh...cursed videotapes, o-or something. Knowing this place...." His attempt at humor falls only a bit flat as blue eyes go wide behind thick frames- as if Martin himself was just now considering that the Institute might house cursed videotapes. Xan can't help but laugh a little at the owlish expression. Martin's eyes narrow playfully.

"Havin' a laugh at me, are you? Cheeky bugger," a laugh shakes his broad shoulders, "Keep it up and I won't share any of these cupcakes!"

Xan knows hes bluffing in the same instant he knows he won't call him on it- sharing is to Martin what breathing is to most other people. It might actually kill him to eat a full tray of cupcakes while someone watched. He messily pantomimes zipping his lips closed in a way he hopes looks natural, although he can feel he's still smiling. The door closes behind Martin as he hands him his cup of tea, still steaming hot, and turns to the old television, flipping it on and lighting up the room in a bright blue. Xan sips his tea as he watches him fiddle with the dials and controls. Luckily for them both, it seems like the VHS player is already pre-hooked up to the television.

"What kind of movies do you like?" The question catches him off guard, makes his heart beat faster out of anxiety as opposed to anything pleasant. It occurs to him that he has no answer for this question- he can't even remember if he's ever seen a film before.

"Ah- All kinds! I-it is your room! We should watch, uh..whatever... whatever you want!" It's said too quickly, with a layer of fear that's hard to shake, but Martin doesn't seem to notice. Instead he's looking at him like he's given him a gift- his heart stops all together, twists like it's being wrung out.

"Whatever I want? Really?"

This man is going to be the death of him.

Xan nods as he sips his tea, even though it burns his mouth a bit. It's something to do with his mouth besides further dig himself into a hole, in any case. "Whatever you want!"

"O-okay! But don't... laugh, alright?" He pulls a VHS out of the stack underneath the cupcakes, and displays it for him to see- on the front cover of the box, an attractive women is in a loving embrace with an attractive man. The blurbs on the box promote it as being "heartwarming" and "the love story of our generation". He doesn't laugh, but he does smile- has he stopped smiling since Martin came in the room? He thinks it should start to hurt at some point, being this happy, but it never does- not his face, anyway, and not while it's happening. It's so typically the kind of thing Martin might watch that he feels like he could have guessed, when presented with the stack.

"I know, I know, it's a...well. A bit of a ladies picture, but..." His face flushes a high enough pink to be visible even through the cerulean light of the television that slants over his features. Xandyr's tea shakes in his hands and he has to drink another long sip to make sure it doesn't spill. It tastes sweet on his tongue, like syrup and honey, so cloying it threatens to choke him- just the way he likes it. "It's one of my favorites! I- I promise it's quite good!"

He trusts him implicitly, with a lot more than their choice of movies to watch- a knife through his chest, reminding him what he's doing is wrong. Martin cannot trust him implicitly in turn- there is nothing within him to be trusted in.

Martin pops the movie into the VHS player, which makes a whirring sound as if it is oh-so-put-upon by the task of having to do its job. For all Xan knows, it might be. It looks older than both of them put together. But it accepts the movie, beginning to play previews and coming soon featurettes that look much crisper than he expected they would. A warmth against his thigh snaps him out of staring at the TV screen- Martin has sat down next to him on his bed, a cup of tea in hand and the tray of cupcakes placed across both of their laps, and in the space underneath it their legs are touching.

Xandyr reaches for a cupcake. They're frosted through a spectrum of greens- dark and light and pale pastel. It reminds him of his other life, of light through the trees and moss on the trunks. Of being hunted and hunting in turn. Of falling asleep in bars of sunlight. He shoves it into his mouth, again too fast, and after he has made far too much of an embarrassing show of chewing and swallowing the whole thing at the same time he realizes that Martin is staring at him expectantly, a nervous and excited air about him that shimmers in bright blue eyes, so so close to his face now- too close.

Not close enough.

"What- What do you think?"

"I think I love y-" Xandyr bites his tongue, hard enough that he can taste blood even through thick frosting. What had he almost said? Holy shit. "I, ahaha, think I love them! I mean, I know! I do! Love them! Great cupcakes, Martin, really!"

"If you don't like them, that's-"

"No, I really do! I swear!" He makes a show out of taking another one, taking a bite this time instead of shoving it into his face like the wild animal he only barely feels like he still isn't. Martin's expression becomes unguarded all at once, that smile settling in place over his features again. Up this close, Xandyr can see every individual freckle that dots his cheeks, the stubble that lines his jawline where he hasn't shaved lately. He has to stop looking at him- has to- he feels like he's bound to be blinded any second now, like staring at something so perfect has to have far-reaching cosmic consequences- but all at once he understands why so many societies worshiped the sun and burned out their eyes in devotion to it.

In the end, Martin turns away from him, facing the TV screen that's now 5 or so minutes into the movie he had put in. He unwraps a cupcake, taking a bite, and makes a sound analogous to a hum, and Xandyr finishes off his own and follows him in repeating the process.

30 or so minutes in, teacups are pushed aside, emptied of their contents. Martin's leg is still touching his own under the tray. The cupcakes serve as a pleasant distraction- if he doesn't distract himself, he's sure he'll lose his mind. He nibbles at them, making them last. The man and the woman onscreen have clear chemistry- at least, he thinks they do. What would he know about it, other than that he wants to see them together?

About an hour. The couple is on a date. Love shines in their eyes. He couldn't tell anyone how they got there if his life depended on it- Martin's shoulder is pressed against his own now, sucking the breaths from his lungs. With the exception of laying down to sleep at night, they've never been this close. It feels.. different. More... intentional. More significant. Like a declaration of something it couldn't be.

Xan reaches for another cupcake, another distraction, but is intercepted by warmth under his fingertips instead, by an electric shock that jerks his head towards Martin like it was on a swivel. He's looking at him again, and he can tell by the look on his face that he felt that too. Xandyr feels heat rush to his face and dread stir in his stomach. It felt so good- better than anything he had ever felt. He couldn't have any more of it. He so desperately wanted more of it. Martin is looking at him like...

Like he wants more, too.

It's impossible, isn't it? And even if it wasn't impossible... even if the feeling that pours from blue eyes and washes over him like warm rain is genuine- he shouldn't, can't encourage it. It'd be unforgivable, to encourage him to fall into a void.

And yet.....

"Martin..." He whispers, and it is as much a plea as it is a warning and a confession. Don't come any closer. Please come closer. I'm going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. I love you. Run away.

Their fingers are locked together- when did that happen? Why does it feel like they were made to? His head swims with dizzy sensation.

He leans in, artless, uncoordinated- he's never kissed anyone before but all he can think about is Martin's lips, parted as they are with the weight of longing. He can feel his breath, can taste it in the air, sweet like frosting and then some, and he is so, so close-

"Wait, wait wait wait!" Martin pulls away with a panicky tint to his voice, and Xan is sure for a heart shattering, relief filled moment that he's done something wrong. That Martin will never speak to him again. It's what's best for him. He can't stand the thought of it.

But he simply slips his round glasses down off the edge of his nose, folding them and placing them safely by his empty teacup, and smiles that beatific smile, leaning back in close.

"Didn't want them to- ah- to get in the way..." For the second time tonight, his tone and mannerisms are sheepish.

Xan can't help himself- the distance between them disappears in a flash, mouths melding together in a mingling of sugar so sweet it makes his teeth ache and his chest ache and his stomach hurt. This is the pain he was waiting for; It's the best pain he's ever felt. His traitor hand combs through fluffy, soft blonde hair, catching on the hair pretty holding his ponytail in and combing it out effortlessly- and to his own surprise, a hand winds into his own hair, pulling at him feverishly. Kissing Martin is all he imagined it would be- soft and gentle curves melding to him in all the right ways, with an edge of what he didn't expect- a desperation to him that mirrors his own.

What he's done, what he's doing, is unforgivable- it flutters through his bloodstream, alternating lighter than air butterflies and the crushing weight of a hundred lead balloons.

He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

[morgansmoreid]

Secrets  • Derek Morgan • Three

Fic Masterlist

Name: Happy Moments and Old Friends

Warnings: Sexual Content

(Italics Stand For Flashbacks)

Y/n lets go of her father's hands and switches the suitcase to her other side. She hates the man before her but she still leans in and presses a small kiss to his cheek, pulling back to examine him. Clean, is the word she would use to describe him. Colored hair and a shaved face, her father looked younger than she could pin him.

"Is it still the same?" Y/n points to the glass door. "It's been so long."

Y/F/N only nods and turns to hold the door for the three agents. Y/n goes in last, goosebumps on her arms from the seconds no one watches the two. But as Y/F/N makes no moves, she slowly calms down and ignores the looks she gets. She's her father's twin, she knows that, but from the way she carried herself past years, she can see the shock in some people's eyes as the badge resides on the band of the pants.

"Here." Y/F/N takes the three agents into the big conference room. The room Y/n was never allowed to go in, the one that held every meeting that pulled her father away from her life, the one she dreaded.

Y/F/N didn't follow Derek, Penelope, and Y/n into the room, leaving them to interrogate.

"Fields?" Derek was a little hurt and the sudden front his partner put on.

"Not now." Y/n shut down any further questions and walked past her team members to start the step up. The board looked clean halfway through, papers in order, and information that Y/n wrote up made it easier on Penelope, who was still giving Y/n the cold shoulder.

The silence the three create as they work is not tense. Frankly, the only sounds are Y/n's nails against her tablet and Penelope's keys being clacked against her research, mixed in with a little bit of Derek's blocky writing against his yellow pad.

Well, it was silent, until the door busted open with an angry man coming in and screaming at Y/n. "You should have answered my damn text!" He screamed, walking towards her, causing her to step out of her seat and back to the nearest wall. Derek did the same but in the protection of his girlfriend. "I was worried sick and you couldn't even bother to text me a quick answer? What the fuck is that about?" The man is still screaming until he is shut down by Derek.

"Excuse you!" He walks forward, his body still protecting Y/n's. "Watch yourself and who you talk to like that!" Derek isn't screaming like Deputy James, the tag on his uniform reads. Deputy James Diaz. But Derek's tone is indeed strict. It's rare anyone hears him speak as he did moments ago, even on cases. Daiz steps down. Derek doesn't move his body from Y/n but she moves from behind him to next to him.

"We can talk about this later." She looked him straight in the eye. Fear from her father still ran through Y/n's bloodstream as she spoke, but Y/n stood her ground and watched James slowly back up before he left the room himself. His face too looked cleaner and he overall looked better. It's hard to look at James from the last time they were alone together, but that didn't stop Y/n from seeing the differences.

For years and years, he kept quiet about his feelings to the woman next to him. Her hair smelled like flowers as she laid on his shoulder, hands connected as they watched the stars off of his apartment building roof.

"You are one the reasons I still come back to the wretched town, James," Y/n spoke truthfully. "You are the one friend that has always stayed by me."

James only smiled and looked at Y/n. She sits up from his shoulder and they meet eyes. It's regular to her so she doesn't stop him when his hand caresses her cheek. It's not regular when his lips meet hers and at first she wants to say something. But he kisses her again and she doesn't stop him. Y/n gets pulled in closer and lets James run his hand on her back.

"Should we?" Y/n's words drift.

"I've wanted to for as long as I could imagine." James honestly replied.

"Who was that?" Penelope finally spoke up.

"The deputy. Also, an old friend that I fell out of touch with."

"And what is talking about you not answering his text? What is going on here?" Derek pushed his writing pad aside.

"My high school reunion is in 4 days, on Saturday. James and a few others texted me because everyone wanted to know I was coming, I didn't reply because I didn't expect to be here." Y/n speaks fast, and if years with Spencer didn't help the two in the past, it helped them now as they picked up every word.

"And you didn't say anything? We could have made it if you were concerned about work-"

"I didn't want to go in the first place," Y/n spoke words that had less meaning of what she truly meant. Derek nor Penelope continued the conversation after that and tried to get back to work. It was only 8 A.M in the hot state and as much as they needed coffee, no one wanted the shitty police coffee they get every case.

20 minutes passed and Penny headed out to find a bathroom. Derek still hadn't said anything and only fiddled with his pen as his mind stayed blank. Eyes stayed on the filled page as the sound of Y/n getting up from her chair played in his ears. He tried to ignore her as he could until she placed a hand on his shoulder. No, he didn't shove her off or push her away, even though his muscles tensed.

"Babe.." Y/n called, turning her head to the closed door and the blinded window next to her before turning back. "I'm sorry, I should have told you."

"Yea. You should've." Derek scoffed, leaning himself back in the office chair he resided in. "I mean come on Y/n, this is the type of thing we are supposed to talk about."

"I know. I know." Y/n easily fits herself between the conference table and Derek. "I just can't be here and didn't want to think about it so I just ignored it in general, and I am so so sorry I didn't tell you." Derek takes Y/n's hands and closes them in his.

"It's ok, just.., let's get to the bottom of this case so we can go home ok?" Y/n nods and leans down pressing a small kiss to Derek's lips.

"How about we get this day over and at least hit the hotel? Wouldn't that be nice, daddy?" She smirked and whispered, the door making her pull away before she could receive an answer. Penelope sat down, more focused while the two soon joined her. It was just the three in the room for a while. When Aaron and Emily joined them first, evidence came with them, leaving Y/n to add it to the board.

"Y/L/N, you're 29 right?" Penelope finally spoke to the woman.

A small mhm left Y/n as she peeled the glove from her hand.

"But Christina and Rose are 32? How would you guys share the same reunion?"

But before Y/n could answer the given question, Aaron had his own.

"Reunion? You didn't say anything?"

"Small high school reunion for all. Not just for the seniors, we don't do that here. Technically, I still have 3 left to go because this year would be their senior year." Y/n clarified. "I didn't need to say anything because I don't ever come back to the place. Not for birthdays, weddings, I'm the black sheep that everyone knows."

And with that, Y/n proudly shut down the unwanted questions her way. Aaron looked over to Derek, surprised when he seemed equally confused. Y/n didn't say she knew the victims, but she talked about them as if she did and Aaron wrote it down as questions to bring up when his subjects came in for questioning later that day.

Penelope's profile and research grew more as the team was reunited again but she still didn't understand why or who was targeting these women.

"I set up times for everyone Hotch," Penelope closed tabs on her computer. She tried to stay focused but after 3 hours and more looking at horrible crime photos, she needed her baby kittens and pandas.

"Good, thank you," Aaron said, leaving the question in the air. "Lunch anyone? We all have to be hungry."

"Yea, any good places?" David put down his own work before turning over to Y/n.

"I'll ask around."

"You don't remember any?" A voice at the door spooked everyone.

"Nope." Y/n popped the P. Now that she was around her team, her father didn't scare her. Confidence boosted around her.

Spencer looked between Y/F/N and Y/n multiple times before saying some of the others were thinking. "Is he your brother? You both look identical!"

"No!" Y/n responded offended. Yes, her father cleaned up his act but there was no way he looked that young. "And it's not important, the only thing I remember is a diner about 15 minutes from here."

"It is important, I'm her father. But Y/n's right, there is a diner called Happy's 10 minutes west." He crossed his arms and rested his face. His eyebrow twitched, but Y/n ignored it and looked past him, out to the open.

"Not that important," She mumbled. "Let's go eat, I'll drive."

Y/n followed her father into the '80s themed diner. She stood behind him and watched as he tapped the bell.

"Hey, Lennie! Wanted to get me a coffee and my Daredevil a bagel before I headed in for the day, can you whip it up for us?" Y/F/N talked to the manager that had walked out of the back. The stupid nickname Y/n had since she was four made Lennie look at her, giving her a half-wave that she gave back.

"Sure Bud, on the house for our favorite sheriff and his wonderful daughter."

Y/n pulled the car into park and Aaron did the same. The team was large, one vehicle wasn't nearly enough. Y/n was the first to get out, holding open the door for everyone. The diner was almost empty. Only one woman resided in the back, her hair so long that her face was covered by it. She didn't want to be seen, that was clear. Y/n tapped the bell and waited for someone to come out, shocked, to say the least when Lennie came out.

"Lennie!" She said happily, putting a smile on the old man's face.

"Daredevil! You're back!" Lennie walked around the counter and hugged Y/n like never before. It was soon he learned why she got the name daredevil and it stuck until now.

"I am back, and pretty hungry, you still have those magic skills of yours?"

"You know it! Come sit, come sit," Lennie walked over to a booth and seated everyone. He more than happily took everyone's order and every so often he checked on the lady who sat in the back. For once, Y/n was happy to be home. Dipping her fries in the milkshake, true laughter ran from Y/n. For once, no one was pushing her. For once, everything was calm.

Lennie insisted that lunch was on the house and he had it covered, but Y/n still slipped that 100 dollars bill in his pocket like it was nothing. She hopped back into the driver's seat and led the way down the street, window open and the air humid now that the sun was fully out.

The time that displayed itself on her watch said 2:35. They had been out for less than 2 hours, and it was the best time she has had here in a while. Y/n walks into the station with a small smile and joins the team back to the conference room. Everyone is in a better mood. Work comes to them naturally and the only thing that stops the peaceful space is James.

"There has been another body- Daniela Choi."

[liberty-barnes]

Letters To A Stranger

Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The story of a girl who loved a boy, but couldn't talk, so she wrote.

Warnings: fluff for a bit, but then massive angst, and i mean massive, STOP READING HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT ANY SPOILERS BUT I WOULDN'T FEEL OKAY WITHOUT LISTING ALL THE ANGST FACTORS 

(mentions of ED, mentions of self-harm, implied character death, mentions of social anxiety)

Word Count: 1.3k words

Estimated Reading Time: 5 minutes

A/N: did you miss me?

Masterlist 

February 21st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Are you new? Or was I simply too oblivious to your presence until now? I've never seen you before, you're really pretty.

 I don't think I've ever used the word "pretty" to describe a man before. Well, boy, but my point stands.

But you really are. With your caramel eyes, and artistically tousled hair. You're cute. Kind of like a puppy. Not that I'm attracted to dogs, of course, but there's really no better way to describe you. Your face lights up when you talk on the phone, like an excited golden retriever who'd just been told he was going for a walk. I wonder who you're talking to. Is it your partner? Please, say you're single.

You get off after me apparently, so I guess I'll just keep my pining to my letters and hope to see you again tomorrow.

Kinda wishing I was yours,

Your secret admirer.

February 22nd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back! Is this a simple coincidence or are you a regular? 

From the backpack on your shoulder, I'd say maybe you're a student. I don't go to school. You make me wish I did if only to see your face every day for more than the short ten minutes of our joint ride.

I wonder how old you are. You look old enough to be in high school, but which year are you? I know I'm only nineteen, but I'd feel a little bummed about crushing on a fourteen-year-old.

You're smiling again today. I'm glad. I don't see a lot of smiles at the diner. Mostly glares, impatient huffs, and tired, distant expressions. It's a nice change.

I have to go now but thank you for making my day.

Hoping to see you again tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

February 23rd, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm starting to think that smile is permanent. It's the third day in a row that I've gotten on the train and was immediately greeted with your beaming smile as you watched some video on your phone. It made me smile too.

Your sweatshirt's pretty. It says "Midtown Tech" on it. Is that a school? Is it your school? 

I may have to do some digging later.

Please don't think I'm a stalker.

Your totally not-stalker secret admirer.

March 1st, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I was late this morning so I didn't get to see you. My boss was not happy about it, I felt like I was walking on very thin ice.

And then this guy grabbed my ass while I was taking his order. I acted on instinct, tried to remember everything they taught me at my self-defense class. I ended up accidentally punching him in the face. 

So yeah, I lost my job today. Which is why I'm here so early. I might stay on the subway just to see which stop you get off on. 

Yeah, maybe not, that'd be weird and I should start job hunting as soon as possible.

Thank you for making me smile on a bad day.

Thank you for being you,

Your secret admirer.

March 17th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I got a new job! I'm working at this coffee shop/bookstore and it's honestly the greatest thing in the world. I get to be around books AND get free hot chocolate, how much better can life be?

You looked a little down today, I wonder if you're okay? Is everything well at home? Maybe school's the problem? Maybe you got a bad grade, but you look really smart so I don't know.

I hope you're feeling better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 19th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I wish I knew your name, that way I'd know who to address this to. But I guess Cute Boy On The Subway will have to do. 

You were smiling again today, that's nice. I haven't seen you smile in a while, I was starting to get worried. The sweater you were wearing looked a little too big to be yours, the collar slipped down a little when you moved. It looks like there's a massive bruise on your upper chest. Does it hurt? Are you okay?

I wish I was brave enough to ask you in person.

Get better soon, 

Your secret admirer.

March 25th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You're back to not smiling today. I don't like to see you frown. Not at all. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to help you get better, see you smile again.

I want to talk to you.

I'll do it tomorrow, 

Your secret admirer.

March 26th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

You were sad again today. But that's okay, cause I said I'd talk to you. 

Except I didn't.

My stomach started doing uncomfortable flips and I had to get off the train earlier than usual so I could throw up. It was not fun. 

Maybe I just have the flu?

Hopefully, I'll be better tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

March 30th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I've tried talking to you for three days, every time I had to get off and empty my stomach's content. I started to see a pattern so after a half week of that vicious cycle, I went to see my doctor.

Turns out I have social anxiety tendencies and you simply trigger them a bit. So, basically, my body won't let me talk to you.

I'm a little sad but also kind of relieved. At least I know I'm not voluntarily letting you slip through my fingers.

Not that I ever plan on doing that, you've become too important.

I hope you smile tomorrow,

Your secret admirer.

April 7th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I'm worried about you. Your sleeve rose a little when you held onto the pole. There are scars there, familiar ones, ones that I recognize as scars left by one's own hand. Physical marks of a person's suffering.

Why are you doing that? It hurts to know that you feel down enough to resort to that. I want to help, but I can't bring myself to talk to you.

Please stop this,

Your secret admirer.

April 12th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

Your eyes were red today. You've been crying. There are dark circles under your eyes, how long has it been since you've last slept?

A lady asked you if you were alright. You said you were just a little tired. I've never heard a more obvious lie.

I wish I could talk to you,

Your secret admirer.

April 16th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

The dark circles haven't gone away, if anything they've gotten darker. But now there's a bruise on your cheek. You seem to be getting thinner too.

What's going on?

Your secret admirer.

April 28th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

How much weight have you lost? Your cheekbones are more prominent, and your arms are getting thinner by the second. Why don't you eat? 

The bruises are more frequent now. Cheek, eyebrow, lip... 

Who's hitting you?

Who's making you suffer?

Your secret admirer.

May 6th, 2024

Dear Cute Boy On The Subway, 

I haven't seen you in a few days. I wonder where you are.

Are you okay?

I'm sorry, that's a stupid question, you probably aren't.

I've decided that next time I see you I'm gonna talk to you. Ask you what's wrong. Force you to tell me if that's what it takes.

I hope you're safe.

Your secret admirer.

May 27th, 2024

Dear Peter Parker, 

I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to talk to you when I had the chance.

I hope you're in a better place now.

I'm sorry you were alone when you did it.

I'm sorry you had to do it.

With love,

(Y/n).

yes, i'm one of those authors that post something an then disappears for two months, i'm sorry. i've been super busy with school and i haven't really had the motivation to write lately but i got this idea and i just needed to get it out.

also, i may be getting a new computer in like 1 or 2 weeks, so that's cool! it'll be better to write and stuff cause this one's getting kinda slow and sometimes it's hard to post stuff cause it won't load lmao.

anyway, i hope you liked it and if you did don’t forget to reblog/comment/like

love you all!

-Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo​ @officiallyunofficialperson​  @beananacake​ @theunderlier @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn​ @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @parkersbliss​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual @mendes-marvel​ @timotayswriter​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ @incorrect-things​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @harishaanne​ @ellamw04 @bisexual-disappointment​ @onelovesr​ @ellyseveronica​ @sovereignparker​ @notsosmexy​ @theamazingtomholland​ @lozzypoz321​ @peterspideyy​

PETER PARKER TAG 

@dreaming-lia @markleehee​ @juliebean247​ @quechulitaaa​ @bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ @bellaaa321-blog​ @parkerpetertingle​ @emily-louise-hynes @clara-licht​ @ekelly2015​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @quaksonhehe​ @danicarosaline​ @tutuabby28​ @sovereignparker​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @kayleypaige2233​ @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @zeusmyster​ @sirtommyholland​ @a-singleboat​ @allthisfortommy​ @middevil456 @kdotcxz​ @drishtisikarwar 

MARVEL TAG 

@dreaming-lia @emily-louise-hynes @arts-ismything​ @peachyafshawn​ @cathwritestragediesnotsins​ @spn67-sister​ @t-monosapiens-h @galaxystern08​ @highlydisfunctional1​ @jillanaholland​ @hyluas @ravenagrimes @captainbuckyy​ @kaylig02​ @crazyassbitch-things-blog @sharenaloveyouX @tacobacoyeet​ @andycanbeemotional​ @angelicromanoff 

[shijiujun]

thirst follow au for chuyao? (i dunno if you still take prompt requests for chuyao but i just discovered the prompt list you posted and if you do still take prompts i'd love read your version for chuyao of this!!)

new celebrity lu yao + ceo of the company lu yao is signed under qiao chusheng

---

The first thing that Lu Yao does once he’s alone these days is open his Weibo app and scroll to a particular account to look for updates. It doesn’t matter if he’s just started break after his filming sequence, or when he gets home after a day of long activities, before he does anything, Lu Yao is on his phone and checking through @/乔楚生mmc.

“Yao Yao, are you checking through Qiao-zong’s Weibo again?” his manager sighs as she enters the waiting room that has been allocated to Lu Yao for the duration of this period drama shoot.

“... Jie,” Lu Yao grins suddenly, showing her his phone, “Look at him at the ELLE Fashion event, he’s not wearing an inside shirt! It’s just a blazer over, I saw his fans yelling about this earlier but I didn’t have time to check, he just-”

Man Man-jie, his manager, tries not to be exasperated with him, but it has honestly been two months since Lu Yao discovered Qiao Chusheng, the CEO of Qing Long Ying Shi, the largest entertainment and media company in the country, after he visited one of Lu Yao’s shoots. 

Not for Lu Yao of course, but for the world-renowned director that Lu Yao and every other crew and cast member in this production is working with - suffice to say, Lu Yao laid eyes on their company’s CEO for the first time since he signed on a year ago, and he hasn’t been able to keep away from him since. 

It makes him wonder why Qiao Chusheng did not become a star himself, but Man Man said that the man has always had a knack for business development, and the company has only grown stronger after Boss Bai, the man who founded it and who is also Qiao Chusheng’s adoptive father, relinquished the position to him.

“How did you not know Qiao Chusheng is the CEO of this company?! Your paychecks are getting signed by him!”

“Aiya.... Jie, it’s not like I come across him at all... And I thought our CEO was some old man...”

Lu Yao immediately followed Qiao-zong on all his social media accounts because the man is certified exceptional in looks and body. He won’t admit it, but the best thing he likes about Qiao Chusheng aside from his arms, his muscles, his chiseled jaw, those sharp eyes, that hot body, is definitely the man’s smile.

It’s too embarrassing to say though, so Lu Yao stalks him online instead, on his private account that no one knows about. And because it’s a private and almost empty account, Lu Yao dares to leave emoji responses and some comments from time to time.

Today, Lu Yao replied Qiao Chusheng’s post with five thumbs-ups and five fire emojis. On second thought, he adds:

“哥哥帅爆了! 哥哥看我一下~”*

Man Man looks over his shoulder to glance at the comment and rolls her eyes so hard that she almost pulls something in her neck. 

“You know, one of these days, if anyone finds out, you’re dead,” she shakes her head. “When that time comes, you’re on your own. Don’t expect me to clean up on your behalf. Also, Qiao-zong is only a year older than you are, and you’re calling him gege?”

“Hey!” Lu Yao exclaims, indignant, “I have to present myself as one of his young girl fans right? If anyone ever finds out about my account, i can at least roll my eyes and ask if I would ever sound this disgusting, and then people will think twice.”

“Okay, if not that, then could you please change your Weibo name? You’re embarrassing me!”

Lu Yao frowns, confused. He thinks @/三土葱油饼 is a great handle for a social media account.

The best thing is, Qiao-zong has been oddly responsive to social media post comments recently, and he banters hilariously with fans when he has the time. Lu Yao hasn’t gotten that privilege yet, but Qiao-zong seems to be liking a lot of his fans’ posts as well, at least for those who post in the first hour of his new post, and those get likes.

Recently, it has also been Lu Yao’s personal mission to leave a comment and get a like by his Qiao-zong.

“Yao Yao, you’re so stupid, you know that? Not every single fangirl has the opportunity that you do. You literally have an excuse to go see him, you actually have access to him, his office floor? Company events? What game are you playing, stalking him on Weibo?”

Lu Yao tunes her out a little. It’s pretty fun to him, to be able to openly appreciate all these hot and amazing photos of Qiao-zong. Here, he can stare to his heart’s content, and he doesn’t have to hold back when he makes his comments. If he met Qiao Chusheng in person...

Well, of course he wants that too, but would he be more disappointed if Qiao Chusheng barely looks at him, or ignores him? Lu Yao isn’t a small artiste by any measure, and he did win the newcomer award two years ago, but there are so many experienced and legendary colleagues in his company too. 

It is, after all, the country’s media and entertainment industry behemoth, and Lu Yao doesn’t have a complex - he knows what he’s worth right now, and it ain’t a whole damn lot.

When he comes out of the shower two hours later at home, he sees a notification on Weibo, and it says that @/乔楚生mmc has liked his comment! 

His day made, Lu Yao flops back onto his bed and conks out for the next 24 hours.

===

Lu Yao can only thank his lucky stars because someone up there must really be looking out for him. If not, how can anyone explain Qiao Chusheng turning up at his shoot so frequently the week after?

Before this, Lu Yao had literally never seen the man even once aside from that very first meeting that began this whole thirst journey for him, and this week, Qiao-zong has visited every single day.

Of course, it’s not like he’s here for Lu Yao. According to some of his cast mates, Qiao Chusheng’s younger sister Bai Youning wrote the script for the last stage of their filming before the production wraps up, and asked her brother to stay on set to watch every scene being filmed.

The scriptwriter is usually on set for the parts she writes, but this particular segment of filming happened to clash with her honeymoon period with her new husband, but did that stop her from being involved? Not at all, and so busy Qiao Chusheng has to sit his ass down, note down what’s happening, and report back to his adopted sister at the end of each day.

Sadly, this segment will only take five days or less to complete, which means Lu Yao won’t be able to stare at Qiao-zong for much longer.

When will he shine brightly enough to catch Qiao-zong’s attention?

At the thought, Lu Yao slaps his own cheeks.

He only thinks of Qiao Chusheng as eye candy. He’s after a visual feast whenever he logs onto Weibo to catch the man’s updates. Qiao Chusheng is a pillar of strength for him mentally.

Lu Yao has no other untoward fantasy or goals when it comes to Qiao Chusheng.

None at all.

===

Somehow, Lu Yao ends up all drunk and boneless in Qiao-zong’s laps at the end of the week. As they expected, filming wrapped up officially earlier in the evening after Lu Yao filmed his very last scene, and since the CEO was present, there was no reason not to treat everyone on the production to a good meal.

Man Man temporarily left ten minutes ago to take on a call for another possible role for Lu Yao, and the room was cleared when Qiao Chusheng offered to book three huge karaoke rooms upstairs for the crew and cast to continue their party at after their dinner.

Lu Yao has had a bit too much to drink, and Man Man isn’t around to direct him elsewhere, so when the room has emptied, he is still seated, staring at his empty glass of wine. 

Suddenly, he thinks of something, and immediately pats at his pockets for his phone. 

“... Lu-xiansheng,” a voice sounds, “You’re not going to join them upstairs?”

“Mmm,” Lu Yao nods, trying to focus on his phone screen. “Going home.”

A nice-sounding chuckle echoes through the room then, “Can you get home like this?”

“I’m going on Weibo. Man-jie will send me home,” Lu Yao responds, almost sulking a little as he tries to find his favourite Weibo account.

There’s a bit of silence after that, and before Lu Yao can even scroll through today’s updates, a hand closes over the screen.

“You’re drunk, Lu Yao,” the same person says again. “You really shouldn’t be on Weibo. What if you post something by accident?”

Lu Yao pauses, and then he shakes his head, “I’m not posting anything.”

He turns and shows his ‘friend’ his phone screen, “See? It’s a private account, and... and... and I’m just... going to check on my favourite account.”

“Even then,” the man says again, exceedingly gentle and patient, “You should only look at Weibo when you’re sober.”

“No!” Lu Yao protests. “I have to check. I check this account everyday. See? See?”

There’s a long, long moment of silence as Lu Yao scrolls his way down the account, detailing which are his favourite photos. The man lets him go on, and because he’s cold, Lu Yao inches even closer to him.

The last thing he remembers is his new friend taking his phone from him.

===

It’s painfully bright when he wakes up, the light triggering a headache even before he opens his eyes. When he does, however, Lu Yao has to take a long, long moment to figure out just where the fuck he is. 

He’s trying to massage the headache away with his fingers, seated up in bed but having zero energy to get out of it just yet, so when Qiao Chusheng walks through the door with a smile, Lu Yao just stares.

“You’re awake. Great, I got you some fried buns for breakfast, you okay with that? Man Man didn’t say you were on any sort of diet,” the man says casually, as if they are friends.

Lu Yao looks down at himself, and nearly jolts when he realizes he’s in nothing else but a bathrobe.

Before he can panic, Qiao Chusheng adds, “I thought you looked a little uncomfortable sleeping in your jeans and shirt yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Lu Yao rasps, trying to wrap his head around why Qiao Chusheng is here, why they’re in a hotel room, and why the fuck the man is even speaking to him in the first place-

He must have inconvenienced the man last night while he was drunk, and instead of throwing him to Man Man, Qiao Chusheng decided to take care of him instead. Maybe Qiao Chusheng could have left him on the streets or something, but he is after all an artist under his company, and if anything strange happened because Lu Yao was drunk, it would be bad for the reputation and image of the company if word got out.

Yes, that’s the only explanation for this.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Qiao-zong,” Lu Yao says, inching his way out of bed. 

“No trouble at all,” Qiao Chusheng replies. “Come and sit, have some breakfast before you go. I called Man Man, she should be here in a bit to pick you up.”

With that said, it isn’t good for Lu Yao to reject him and just run off no matter how much he wants to right now. He sits down opposite the man at the table, and then picks up the buns.

After he’s literally swallowed three whole buns, Qiao Chusheng comments idly, “I thought it was random when you chose your Weibo account handle, but it seems that you really like cong you bings?”

“Mnn,” Lu Yao nods, wolfing the buns down because he’s hungry as hell, and so he doesn’t’ really register the first part of the man’s sentence, not until he’s on the last bite of his bun.

And then he chokes.

“How did you-?!”

At that, Qiao Chusheng raises an eyebrow, “You showed me your phone yesterday, and introduced to me your favourite account.”

Lu Yao blanches, because he knows which account that is, and then Qiao Chusheng continues, amused, “You were telling me how nice his smile looks. How pretty his eyes are. How strong his arms probably are hidden under that suit. And that you guessed right, he actually does have six-pack-”

“Please stop,” Lu Yao croaks, mortified. “I...”

The man takes pity on him and stops as requested. Lu Yao is frozen in his seat, like a deer caught in headlights, wondering what he should say next.

Qiao Chusheng nods, “Would you like to have lunch with me later?”

“Are you firing me?”

“It’s just lunch,” he answers. “I’m technically your boss, so I understand if you’re uncomfortable with the idea but... we could do lunch, and see how it goes from there.”

And then Qiao Chusheng looks away a little, “And.. I may have been visiting the set not to supervise the interpretation of Youning’s script.”

Once again, it takes him a few solid seconds to connect the dots, and when it does, Lu Yao flushes completely red.

“... we could do lunch,” Lu Yao agrees finally. “But I have to go home and change first.”

When he looks up again, it’s that smile he sees.

===

Weeks later, Chusheng makes Lu Yao repeat every single message he’s left on his posts, all the embarrassing ones, refusing to move if he doesn’t. Lu Yao’s hands balls into fists in the sheets, and says no.

He left a lot of messages! How is he supposed to remember every single one of them?!

Chusheng makes a a convincing argument though, towering over him and not giving into Lu Yao’s requests to fuck him properly until Lu Yao says them. It ends with Lu Yao trying to concentrate enough to speak, word after word.

He’s going to unfollow his boyfriend on Weibo after this!

---

Notes:

1. Qiao Chusheng’s Weibo account name is @/乔楚生mmc = Qiao Chusheng MMC, and this is taken directly from Zhang Yunlong’s own Weibo handle, which is 张云龙mmc. MMC, as I recently found out from Hanyi, stands for mao mao chong = caterpillar/worm? HAHAHAHA

2. Lu Yao’s handle is @/三土葱油饼 = San Tu Cong You BIng, which is a combination of the name San Tu and his favourite fried buns HAHAHA that’s how QCS was inspired to buy fried buns for Lu Yao the morning after

3. The comment that Lu Yao left in Chinese above is: “哥哥帅爆了! 哥哥看我一下~” = Gege you’re handsome af, take a look at me please! Something like that, he was definitely kind of joking when he posted that, but you can imagine Lu Yao being a little troublemaker by posting those comments and once QCS realized it was him, it was payback time? Of course, QCS likes to hear his baobei Lu Yao say anything <3