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edendaphne · 4 years ago

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“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary: Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

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(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

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I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always)

banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

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cotton-candy-in-a-thong · 3 years ago

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Noncon stories, Fantasy vs. Reality, and more. fucking. issues.

Recently, I’ve been hit with some drama as to why I’m a “bad person” by various, anonymous users in this fandom. I thought I’d try to address the claim, address my stance on fics that involve noncon, and what I think about the “Tumblr mentality” after everything I’ve seen of this place. I should also note that I’m going to use the specific words and phrases I’ve been forced to constantly repeat as explaining my stance has been very difficult for me, as I’m a person who’s apparently challenging to understand.

This is going to be a long post, with subjects that's obviously going to trigger people so here's a warning right now..

That being said, I’m going to dive into this with some shit I’ve definitely said before:

“Consensual Noncon” Kink

The Appeal of this Theme in Fanfiction:

I don't think calling fics that involve noncon "rape fics" and those who enjoy it "getting off to rape" is a very good way to put it. Many engaging and well done media pieces often involve some very dark themes. Again, Monster by Meg and Dia is a song that features the main character sexually abusing a girl he met. You COULD call this a "rape song", but acting as if the rape is the only thing that matters in this story would be pretty..naive. The story has to do with an emotionally, and physically neglected/abused boy, who grows up and becomes an attention/love starved monster who's SO starving for validation, that he believes forcing himself upon a girl he knew would "prove" to himself that he's capable of being touched and loved. Of course, the main character eventually realizes that rape is not love, that what he did was wrong, and later kills himself in his own bathtub with kerosene and a match.

However, the assault aspect of this song is still a meaningful and alluring part because it talks about how emotional and physical abuse can warp someone's perspective on reality, to the point where they think forcing someone to "stay" with them is how to create a healthy relationship. That's the same energy I have for noncon fics, especially in the slasher fandom. Many slasher fics that contain noncon often have to do with the slasher preying on the reader because of their own fucked up mind. It's intriguing because, let's be honest, pretty much none of the slashers are in a pretty good mental space lmao. Thus, noncon actually falls more in line with how slashers would go about what they believe is a "good relationship" more often than quite a bit of fans here seem to believe. Again, Michael got boners, Jason chained someone up, Fredddy smooches people against their will, Billy Lenz is a sex offender, Chromeskull makes snuff, yada yada yada, you know the drill. That being said, it's interesting to see noncon being expressed with these characters because it gives us a new perspective on how fucked up they'd likely be if the world of sex and relationships was introduced to these characters.

Now why would some people become sexually aroused by the events of the story? First of all, how does “Consensual Noncon” kink work?

u/Jumbledcode. (2015). ‘Can anyone comment on why people (someone like me) enjoy rape/non-con story lines?’. r/TwoXChromosomes.

“I'd suggest that there are several factors that make up the appeal of non-con fantasies.

Guilt/Self-image: For many people, their sexual/relationship desires don't necessarily match their image of themselves, or alternatively they feel guilt over others' perceptions of those desires. Rape fantasies allow them to mantain some illusion of denial over their desires while still indulging in the idea of them.

Responsibility/Laziness: The appeal of abdicating control isn't limited to avoiding guilt; it's very tempting to want a scenario where you have no responsibility for maintaining your lifestyle/happiness. Similarly to before, it's the appeal of being given what you secretly want without even having to choose it.

Transgressiveness: A rape scenario has overtones of danger and taboo-breaking. These can easily be exciting and can therefore be a turn-on.

Desire: Being wanted is often a huge turn-on, and the idea of someone desiring you enough to break laws and disregard everything to have you plays into this feeling.

To me, it seems that most people who fantasize about being the subject of rape do so due to some mix of these motivations I've mentioned. Of course, there are also those who have experiences which have taught them to associate non-consent with their sexuality, but that's a separate issue”.

What if the Fanfic Only Involves the Act though? Wouldn’t it Encourage Actual Rape?

Let’s differentiate fantasy and reality. Towards those with the noncon kink: it offers arousal because of the ideas listed above (the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). Rape is the use of sex to remove control over the victim’s mind and body. The readers DO have control over whether or not they get to “encounter” (the choice to even read) this fantasy, so right away consent is present in reality, and no actual rape is being done.

Now does this mean that the kinkers are getting off on the idea of rape? Not really.

The thing with self-inserts is that it allows you to be connected to the story. That way, even if the story has you bruised up and begging for mercy, a part of you-you (if you’re a kinker) wants to keep reading it as you find it exciting. That way, as you and story-you are connected, what you really want in such a fantasy is for it to keep going despite the brutish, possessive, however yet desired nature of the character you’re dreaming about dealing with. (repeat: the idea of the reader not having to make any moves and the character doing the “intimate work” FOR them, the excitement of such a taboo sexual encounter, and the feeling to be desired through an altered, brutish encounter). That being said, it’s still entirely possible for kinkers to have their personal space and wishes crossed, and ultimately assaulted. Us enjoying the fantasy of such a reverie sexual encounter does not spell out to real life because (in reality) we’re not horny all the time, we would still like our bodies to be respected when we find it necessary, and we still have feelings as we’re still human.

“Fantasy (including video games) leads to violence” fallacy.

It would be like assuming that shooters in games like GTA fantacise about murder, encourage it, and would do it in real life. Taking fabricated anger out on virtual bodies or NPCs is quite different from the weight of murder (the killing of another human being). One can play video games with lots of violence towards such fabricated characters, while discouraging violence towards human beings. The act of using a game controller to beat up Donkey Kong in Smash, to shoot Nazi zombies in a Black Ops game, or to kill a Geisha in Little Nightmares is incredibly, and immensely different from completely eradicating the life of a person on Earth, and to assume that everyone who plays violent video games would spill out to violence in reality would be to participate in a ridiculous fallacy. Yes, there are outliers who are feeble minded enough to let their fantasies influence their actions towards actual people, but I must repeat that there are also people who utilize these fantasies for their personal satisfaction, while understanding the weight of the real world around them (and choosing not to act so detrimentally). Therefore, it wouldn’t be fair as it would be unnecessary to blatantly say that all fantasies are horrible and should be entirely eradicated if there ARE many people who ARE aware enough to understand that some thoughts are better off staying in fiction.

Now is the time to address what’s been said:

...Firstly, I think it’s very disgusting that random users, on Tumblr of all places, are trying to manipuate random victims of sexual assault into hating something or someone just because these users FEEL like “it’s the right thing to do”.. People, victims of sexual assault aren’t your fucking dogs. They’re not carriage horses, they’re not your work mules, they’re not your guns and swords...they’re just people who normally wanna be left the fuck alone like everyone else. Plus, there ARE people who have experienced sexual assault who take joy in reading such dark storylines. What would these users have to say to them? That they’re not “real” victims? That what they’ve experienced “never happened”? That they’re “just like” their own perpetrators for using the consensual nonconsent to miraculously help them overcome their trauma? Should they really abandon their coping mechanism just because there are other victims who cope in different ways?

..If you seriously believe that all people who have gone through a traumatic event are gonna cope in the exact same fucking way, you literally don’t even know enough about PTSD to even be making a bold statement about cope.

This is the part where I finally realized that people, and especially those on Tumblr, don’t actually care about rape victims as much as they may claim. Many users on here, on this platform and in this fandom, don’t truly give a flying monkey shit about rape victims as people, nor what they have to say about the subject. Rape victims..on this place..seem to be used mainly as a means of figurative weaponry for a group’s subjective morality.

I find the similarity close to radical feminism. Radical feminists often believe that women, from near and far, have to do everything in their power to “destroy” the patriarchy. This would mean disobeying the societal expectation of women, even if there are some women who take joyment in engaging in some societal standards for their personal liking. An example would be sex work. Radical feminists acknowledge the flaws in performing sex work, but believe that NO woman should EVER partake even if the woman wants to do it out of her own free will. In demonizing and ostracizing any woman who doesn’t fall into the radical feminist agenda, radical feminists actually contradict their purpose to “let women be free”. At this point, you realize that radical feminists often don’t actually give a fuck about what any woman wants for herself. Instead, radical feminists want to utilize any woman they can find just to flip off men as a group.

In Tumblr users trying to “stand up” for rape victims for their personal “holier-than-thou” ego, they fail to care enough about the very people they defend to understand the dynamics of some of their coping mechanisms, thus begin to bully some members of the group they claim to protect because of the very narcissism, misunderstanding, and controlling nature going on behind their own “activism”. So now that some users have found something to hate, in this case being noncon stories, they attempt to manipulate victims of rape into ostraciszing and demonizing fantasies and other victims of rape just because the “activists” themsleves don’t like it. Even trying to argue that rape victims have a “duty” to agree with everything these “activists” try to do for them.

Sounds awfully familiar to the attitude democrats have towards any minority when it’s time to vote. “I care about you...but you have to agree with everything I say and believe because I want what I think is best for you. If you disagree with me, you’re ungrateful and a traitor”.

Now...a little about myself.

I’m not sure of everyone else who’s into the noncon type of story, but I use it to get away from my past. In noncon stories, I want to read what happens in the chapters. I want to imagine them for morbid curiosity and arousal I feel at the time being. In reality, my attackers didn’t care when I wasn’t in the mood, and never gave me a choice. In noncon stories, I get to choose the character I want to encounter in the fantasy and NOT have it picked FOR me. In real life, I didn’t get to choose who did some things to me. In noncon stories, I get to stop reading them and do something else whenever I’m not feeling it anymore. In reality? My attackers kept going because, in the situation, it was no longer up to me. After noncon stories, my body doesn’t walk away with bruises, bite marks, and physical reminders every time I take my clothes off or try to masturbate. In real life...that shit can mark you, disease you, and then traumatize you. With the stories, I get to delete my search history, join another fandom, and act like nothing ever happened. For reality? Your own body is a reminder of what happened because it was real. In reality, I’m NEVER gonna fucking forget what happened. I’ll be lucky if my own mind and body doesn’t haunt me for at least one day..

So seeing that someone, and probably multiple people not only tried to use victims of sexual assault for their own “go get em” dogs, but to try and phrase me as someone who loves and encourages such an assault on human beings? After the things I felt? After the things I tasted? After pathetically searching for the support of relatives, just to get shut down with “you’re lying”?..

...All the times I've been held down..threatened..clothes getting snagged off..parts being opened and touched after I've fought to just get the fuck away from certain people...

According to this anon..."she likes rape".

...I guess I just fucking LOVED EVERYTHING THEN.

You know...all my life I’ve been misunderstood by many people. It’s honestly really disappointing that even now when I’m better at explaining myself than ever, I’m STILL being phrased as a “psychopath” by random people who haven’t even taken the time to even know me. Not even from a minute-long conversation through a damn computer screen. And you wanna know the funny thing? I’m probably being laughed at as this is being read. Some of these users, these internet stalkers, are probably giggling, smiling, and saying “Haha YES we GOT the bitch!! Cry you piece of shit SLUT!!”. So maybe explaining my past experiences to help everyone understand why some people may use noncon stories to their fantasy advantage is gonna land me messages going: “You haven’t been raped you lying bitch”, “Maybe you should get raped again”, “You definitely enjoyed it”, and the overused, yet strong “Kill yourself”.

So how am I gonna end this message? With me saying that many of you, who THINK you’re doing the right thing by justifying harassment and trying to manipulate others into joining your little crusade to bully people away from the fandom (over extremely mundane fucking things)...aren’t really good people. At best, in this case...you’re fucking stupid. You will never truly speak for any of the marginalized groups you claim to know like the back of your hand. Simply, you will never. be. a hero.

If by chance, by an astrological chance..that any random user wants to come up and apologize out of the blue for talking such shit and for saying such things..I don't even wanna hear it...just get the fuck out of my face..

#slashers #slasher fandom #tw noncon #consensual noncon #fandom drama #long post #past experiences #anon ask

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marvelgiggles · 4 years ago

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Learning to Be Loved

Chapter 2

Thank you guys for all the kind words of encouragement on the last two chapter. It really means a lot and I hope you enjoy this chapter too. :) Also your comments are always ALWAYS appreciated!!

THIS IS A TICKLE SERIES! IF YOU DON’T LIKE PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING!

“Who’s Peter?” You ask.

“Peter is an Avenger but he’s your age and he’s been wanting to meet you but he’s been busy in New York.” Tony informed you. “We didn’t want to overwhelm you with meeting too many people at once. But as much as we love having you all to ourselves Y/N, I think it’s time for you to finally meet the kid.”

You nodded, you did go to school before and you were friendly with most of your classmates and they were nice to you but you just weren’t invited to go anywhere or do anything with them. You had always wanted a friend and you hoped Peter liked you.

——————

Two days after you’ve been living at the compound

Peter was at the Avengers Compound to tinker with his suit, while he was in the lab he was wondering if he was going to run into you. Tony texted him around the time he brought you to the compound but he was busy with the decathlon team and being Spiderman it was awhile before he got back to the compound. He was excited to meet you.

“Hey kid, how’s the suit coming?” Tony asked as he made his presence known in the lab.

“It’s getting there. Hey is Y/N here?”

“Yes but kid I don’t know if you should meet her yet.”

“What! Why not?.” Peter begged.

“Kid, she was severely neglected by her foster parents and I don’t want to overwhelm her with people quite yet.”

“I just thought she could use a friend.” Peter tried to argue.

“She will just not yet. Have a little patience and when she is ready, I’ll let you know. Fair?”

“Fair.”

———————

A couple days later, you were hanging out in your room which you loved. You had floor to ceiling windows that gave you a beautiful view of the lake that was at the compound. One wall had a curtain of lights, one corner had a large oversized chair that was comfy to curl up in to read a book or watch a movie, since Tony installed a TV in your room. He had one of the best interior designers to come in and do your room. It’s more than you’ve ever imagined and what you had always wanted.

JARVIS suddenly came to life in your bedroom, “Y/N. Tony would like you to come to the living room.”

“Thank you JARVIS.” It was still a little weird to have an AI system in the house although he respected your privacy in a weird way, like he’s always there but doesn’t make himself known unless you need him.

You wandered down to the living room and saw someone new talking to all of the Avengers and it seemed like they had known him for a while, so this must be Peter. While his back was turned to you, you noticed his curly brown hair and he did look to be around your age.

You were watching them for a while before Steve noticed you, “Hey Y/N,” he walked over to you and kissed your cheek.“This is Peter.” Peter turned around and you immediately noticed his chocolate brown eyes and the happy expression he had on his face.

“Hi.” You said while waving at Peter.

“Hi Y/N.” He said holding his hand out, you didn’t know what to do so you just stood there. “Right.” Peter said as he awkwardly put is hand down.

“We’ll leave you kids alone so you can get to know each other.”

Both of you went to sit on the couch, you’ve never had a friend before so you didn’t really know what to do.

“So do you like living here?” Peter asked you.

“Yeah, everyone is really nice and there is so much to do here. I really like to walk around outside.”

“That’s good. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I like to feed the ducks in the lake and I like movies.”

“Do you like to play games?” Peter was definitely trying to get to know you and be your friend. It made you feel good inside. You shook your head because you only played the games they taught you in school so you didn’t really know how to play a lot of them. “We could play UNO attack. I could teach you, it’s easy.”

“Sure.” You smiled.

“Cool. I’m gonna go find some cards and see if anyone else wants to play, I will be right back.” You watched Peter run off. You thought it was going well and you were excited to learn a new game. Peter ran back into the living room and jumped on the couch, which made you bounce a little too causing you to giggle. Steve, Tony, Bucky and Wanda walked into behind him.

They patiently and easily explained the rules to you. It really was a simple game and you were having fun, then Tony laid down a card. “Okay Y/N you have to hit the button.” You did as Tony told you and you hit the button but nothing happened. “Try again maybe the batteries are running low.” You hit it a couple more time then all of a sudden it spit out a bunch of cards, it made you jump because you didn’t expect it. Everyone started to laugh a little at your jump and you started to laugh too because it was a little funny.

The six of you played for a while until it started to get a little boring because you were playing for so long. “Do you wanna go for a walk Y/N?” Peter asked you. “We can grab some bread to feed the ducks if there are any.” You smiled big at him because it made you really happy he remembered.

Peter and you started to walk towards the lake. “So where did you grow up?” Peter asked just trying to get to know you a little more you guessed.

“Manhattan.”

“Cool, I live in Queens with my Aunt May.”

“Tony said you were an Avenger, what can you do?” You asked still amazed by all the things the Avengers could do, so you were very curious what Peter’s ability was.

Peter smirked at you and shot a web towards a nearby tree. “ That, but I can also climb walls. I have super strength and healing abilities.”

“That’s really cool.” You were at the lake, standing on the dock and throwing bread pieces to the duck floating around.

“I’m sorry about your foster parents.”

You didn’t say anything because you didn’t like to talk about them and it wasn’t okay so you weren’t going to say “It’s okay” because it wasn’t true.

“I hope we can be friends though.”

Your head shot up not fully believing what you heard you looked at Peter, “I’ve never had a friend before.” Suddenly a little embarrassed saying it out loud.

“That’s okay, I can be your first friend.” Peter said rather excitedly. You smiled up at him, happy that you have a friend for the first time. “Do you know something that friends do together?” You shook your head. “They play practical jokes on each other, do you know what that means?” Again you shook your head. “It’s a trick that you play on someone and super funny, do you want to help me pull one on Steve.”

You smiled because it sounded super fun and you thought you knew Steve well enough to know he wouldn’t get mad.

“Okay we are going have JARVIS call Steve to run all around the compound for nothing.”

“That sounds fun.” You were eager to participate and watch Steve run around for no reason.

“Wanna swing back to the compound?” Peter smirked at you. Swing back to the compound, what did that mean? “If you want to do it wrap your arms around my neck and I’ll do all the hard work?” You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped an arm tightly around your waist. “Okay, hold on!”

Suddenly you were off the ground with Peter literally swinging you back to the compound, you squealed and then started to laugh, that type of laugh that is only brought on by pure joy. It was so freeing to swing through the air, even though you were hanging onto Peter, you felt like you were flying.

Once you landed back on the compound you were still laughing. “Have fun?” Peter asked with a smile his face.

“Yeah! Thank you Peter!” You stood up on your toes and kissed his cheek. You saw Peter’s cheeks and ears turn pink, you wondered if that was part of his abilities or not?

“Okay, now where should we have Cap go first?”

It’s been about three hours since Peter hatched the plan to have Steve run around the compound, so far you’ve had him to the movie room, the training room, the outdoor training course, the kitchen, the lab and you could see that he was getting irritated. Peter had JARVIS request that Steve go to the conference room next but Steve took a different path that he anticipated, he walked through the living room but was behind the couch were you and Peter were laughing as you watched Steve run around.

You didn’t see him behind you both so when you heard a person clear their throat. Peter gulped and focused his eyes on Steve. “H-hey Steve. How’s it going?”

“Are the both of you already causing trouble together? Having me run around the compound for no reason.” He said is somewhat serious voice but you could tell he was kidding from the tone of his voice and you couldn’t help it a little giggle escaped your mouth.

“Y/N,” Steve sang, “should we show Peter what we found out about you a few days ago.” Your eyes widened knowing he was talking about how you were ticklish. Since Bucky had found out word spread pretty quickly, you were getting daily pokes and squeezes but it made you happy because you had been starved of affection your entire life.

You started to slowly back away knowing that it was more fun to pretend you didn’t want to be tickled than just giving in. “Oh no you’re not getting away that easily. Come ‘ere.” He quickly grabbed you and pinned you to his chest. “Peter, we discovered Y/N is extremely ticklish.” Steve then started to tickle your tummy, you instantly curled into a ball in Steve’s arms and let out helpless giggles.

“Yes but we’ve been wondering which one of you is more ticklish.” Tony said as he quickly tackled Peter to the couch. “Let’s see who’s tummy is more ticklish.” Tony started to tickle Peter’s tummy and he broke out into laughter.

Steve walked over to one of the nearby armchairs and sat down with you in his lap. “It looks like Peter is more ticklish on his tummy but I know Y/N’s ribs are more ticklish.” Steve said as he started to pinch and squeeze between each and everyone of your ribs causing your laughter to get more rapid and high pitched the higher he went.

“I don’t know about that.” Tony sang as he was now tickling Peter’s ribs.

“Mihihihister Stahahahahark.” Peter pleaded, while you were just giggling away as Steve now started over with going up your rib cage. You were lost in laughter and couldn’t think of anything else besides how much it tickled.

“Now I know that Peter’s armpits are more ticklish than Y/N’s.” Tony smirked launching his hands into Peter’s underarms causing Peter to arch his back, break out into deep belly laughter, and frantically try to get away from Tony’s evil fingers.

“That my be true but Y/N’s laughter when you tickle her there is so cute!” Steve then moved his hands into your underarms which made you giggle like what Bucky called a Tickle Me Elmo.

Tony stopped tickling Peter and let him go but Steve still had a pretty good grip on you. “Y/N do you know what a raspberry is?”

“A fruit?”

“Nope, it’s another way to tickle someone. Like this!” Steve all of a sudden put his lips on your neck and blew what sounded like a farting sound. It tickled like crazy! You screamed then burst into uncontrollable laughter, you thought Steve tickling your ribs was bad but this was a whole new level on ticklishness. “Ooooo, looks like we found a new tickle spot.” Steve sang while blowing a few more making you frantically kick your legs. “But is it as ticklish as this?”

He suddenly started to squeeze your knees making you laugh deep from your belly and if you trying to kick early you were definitely trying to now.

“NO!” You squealed trying to pry his devilish hands off your super sensitive knees.

“No? Are you sure, it seems like they are more ticklish to me, guess I’m going to have to keep squeezing to figure it out.”

You started to laugh so hard it was becoming silent which cued Steve to stop. He turned you around so he was looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry did I take it too far?” You smiled at him and shook your head. “Okay good.” He said kissing your forehead, warmth filling your body.

You still couldn’t believe how much your life had changed in these past few months and you were looking forward of how it was going to continue to change throughout the rest of your life.

#Tickling #tickle #ticklish #tickles #tickle tickle #tickle ticklish #ticklish!reader #ticklish!peter #mcu x reader #mcu tickle #tickle mcu #mcu tickle fic #marvel fic #marvel tickle #tickle marvel #marvel tickle fic

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 3 years ago

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HOLY HELLO, friends and followers! It's once again that time, time for...

SKETCHY SATURDAY!

This week, we're bringing back one of my favorite types of prompt-- the Quote prompt!

This one is pretty simple, but I still gotta lay down the rules. Follow me past the read-more if you're wanting to participate this week!

This week is all about the dialog-- requesters may select a character and a quote to send in, after which I'll do the rest. If you're an old hand at this event, this is exactly the same as previous quotation prompts, just with an updated quote list.... buuuuut you can still validate my time spent writing the guidelines every week by reading them anyway XD

For the rest of ye, ONWARDS!

To send a VALID request for this week's Sketchy Saturday, send an ASK to my ASKBOX containing the following:

The CHARACTER you'd like sketched ---- Canon? Yep! OC? Hell yes! Everybody's welcome so long as they're from the Fallout Universe! ---- One character per ask ---- Sending an OC? Send your request ask FIRST, and THEN send reference info to my Tumblr IM ---- Don't have a reference image? Text description is fine! Going from text lets me flex my character design muscles!

The NUMBER of your selected quote ---- Numbers help me find things faster, but you can transcribe the quote, too, if you wanna. ---- Got more than one favorite? List up to three, in order of preference. If someone else has used your first choice, I'll move on to your second [or third]. ---- Still can't choose? Send me 'Dealer's Choice!' and I'll pick one... or maybe make up something new on the spot ;3

As always, I'd like to remind everyone that the artist is a singular human, managing this event to try and give people some joy during a time when there seems to be a dwindling supply. Please remember to be polite, say please and thanks, reblog the art after it's finished, make 'oooo' noises in the tags, all that good shit.

Kay? M'kay.

And with that all outta the way... THE QUOTES!

CW for a lot of colorful language, implied violence, and general vulgarity XD

“Excellence knows no age.”

"Whoa, whoa, calm down-- my metaphorical dick can only get so hard."

"Like... a broken clock is right twice a day, but I feel like I'm insulting the clock with that comparison."

"You know, people in this town have a habit of getting in over their heads... like at the bottom of the ocean."

"What the fuck is that look for?"

"Shhhhh.... the adults are talking."

"I did NOT just spend six days in a hole to NOT get drunk at the first opportunity."

"And whether you believe that... or you're correct, it makes a nice hot take."

“Goddamnit, we fought a revolution so we wouldn’t have to pay any attention to the FUCKING British!

“We plan ahead; that way, we don’t do anything right now."

"If you don't stop smirking at me like that, I'm gonna have to kiss you."

"Shenanigans! I'm calling Shenanigans!!"

"Fuck you guys, I'm going home."

"That would imply some kind of agency-- I assure you, I did not CHOOSE this in any capacity."

"On a scale of one to ten, I think I'm hanging out somewhere in the concept of infinity."

"Got the short end of the stick, so I started beating people with it."

"That was so low on the list of things I expected to happen, it was in another state."

"BALLS TO THE WALL, BOYS!"

“You put a whole new shine on the word overkill.”

"Above my paygrade."

"I'm surrounded by assholes..."

"Besides-- in my professional opinion, the change is an improvement."

"A lifetime of preparation... and I end up a REFUGEE?"

".... are you not wearing pants right now?"

“I want a man with a tattoo on his dick! Have I got the right man?”

“I’m short for my height.”

"This isn't a joke, you shit-sucking asshole!"

"Count to... ten."

"Well that's just recockulous."

“So where the hell is the goddamn golden oldie coming from?”

"I always take my own advice under advisement-- you, on the other hand, should pay a little more goddamn attention."

"Listen, babe-- we've been attacked, chased, shot at, poisoned, and blown up! HOW could it get any WORSE?!"

“It will get colder and colder until we all have to go to hell just to warm up.”

“Broke into the wrong goddamn rec-room, didn’t you, you bastard?!”

“When you need it, and don’t have it, you sing a different tune.”

“I only speak two languages; English and Bad English!”

"[sigh]... 'Yer face' is NOT a numerical value."

“Nothing is impossible, only mathematically improbable.”

“I mean, [insert your faction of choice] offers to give you anything you want and you ask for just two cases of dynamite?”

“People keep giving me rings, but I really think a small death ray would be more practical.”

“Or, or, and this is the really important part, we might not die.”

"Tch, amateurs."

"Violence isn't the answer, it's the question-- and the answer is yes."

As always, this will be going online just as I'm crashing for the night, but the askbox is open and ready to collect requests right now! So get yours in, and I'll see ya in the morning when I start arting things up! :D

-Loor

#Sketchy Saturday #Sketchy Saturday Prompt #Quotation Prompt #Fallout #Fallout Fandom Event #If you can see this the askbox is open and collecting requests #right now #do it #do eeeeeeeeeet #and then reblog and tell your friends XD

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takadanobaba · 3 years ago

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Takahashi Minato’s Birthday PriZoom 8/21/2021

TABETAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII~!

Reminder that PriZooms are accessible to everyone regardless of region!! If you’re interested in attending, please go and support King of Prism!!!

I’ve written a guide for participating in PriZooms 👉 here 👈 !

This time I went for the showings with just the Masashi Igarashi talk show bonuses, so the second and third showing (SSS part 2 and Best Ten’s Over the Rainbow route)!

MINATO’S PRIZOOM WAS THE LOUDEST I’VE EVER HEARD SOUNDBOARD HELL!! IT WAS SO FUN!!! There were a lot of people attending too!! I’m so glad!! Especially since Masashi Igarashi (the voice actor of Minato) was there as a guest star and he deserves all the support he gets!!

For reference, I went back and checked my recordings to collect the participant numbers for every prizoom I’ve attended so far:

86 in Jin’s text-only

30 in Rei’s text-only

142 in Minato’s regular cheering for the 3rd showing

105 in Minato’s text-only for the 4th showing,154 in cheering according to Luna! *EDIT: It ended up being over 160?*

You can really hear the difference! Rei’s prizoom was fun but definitely not as wild as Jin’s and Minato’s. I’d say that even though Minato’s cheering was more full-sounding, Jin’s birthday is still my favorite event because there were more participants going all-out with their camera/screens to show their love (almost every Jin fan went text-only). Also Jin’s prizoom holds a special place in my heart since Jin already does and it was my first prizoom, I don’t think anything will top Jin’s for me (though Joji’s is next month...... so.....) Seems like there’s a pretty even spread of participants between both rooms?

It also seems like the same soundboard link is used for not only all of the showings, but shared between both cheering and text-only rooms? Nice to know that if I choose cheering then I won’t miss out on the soundboard activity!

The screening of SSS part 2 was also my first time trying out a regular cheering room, it seems like soundboard hell is becoming the main cheering style there too? WHICH IS GREAT FOR ME because I was worried about being annoying as one of the few soundboard spammers....... There were only about a handful of people on mic (special thanks to Luna and everyone tried to do regular cheering!! it seems like it’d be difficult with everyone using the soundboard haha)

The cheering for Kakeru’s episode is relatively tame and mostly consists of going “そうだ！そうだ！/ RIGHT! RIGHT!” and “そうなことないよ！/ That’s not true!” when there’s arguments about business and stuff. Wh.... who was the other person shouting “大好き” at Sanada..........wwhy......

The cheering for Joji’s episode is CRAZY.... pretty much the whole episode is basically inaudible because everyone’s just going KIIIITAAAAAA and KAKKOIIIIIIIII over EVERYTHING. Which is understandable because Joji’s episode has a lot going on and is the best episode of anything ever. I might be a bit biased. Anyways I love rewatching Joji’s episode even more now (THAT MEANS A LOT... JOJI’S EPISODE MEANS A LITTLE TOO MUCH TO ME.... longest I’ve gone without revisiting it is a week). It also had the most regular cheering out of every episode in part 2 which is cool! There wasn’t much since the cheering was mostly soundboard hell but hearing the “Joji! Joji!” cheers in Joker Kiss was just really nice.... it’s just like in the recording of Shiny Rose Stars/the sss stageplay!! There’s no soundboard substitute for that so the voice cheers had a chance to really shine. The “Joji! Joji!” cheers for that part makes the song so much more emotional to me (especially since Joji’s name has so much significance to him.....he’d appreciate the affirmation a lot;;;;.....okay I’m getting sidetracked so I’m just gonna shut up now and wait to gush about Joji’s episode on the right birthday) SO YEAH I LIKED THE CHEERING ROOM JUST BECAUSE OF THAT PART!!! I’m actually going to die from joy at Joji’s prizoom next month.

Minato’s episode mostly consisted of spamming “食べたーい！/ I wanna eat it!” whenever food showed up, that happened for everything though (like the ramen in Joji’s episode), but Minato’s episode was more food-centric so there were more opportunities. “TABETAIIIIIIII” isn’t usually used that much (m... much less for the Shin/Louis kisses...??)! I guess everyone tried to use it as much as possible in celebration of Minato, seeing as he is the food character and all? Really cool!

I was in the text-only room for the 4th showing so it was strictly soundboard hell for Best 10. Its cheering is great as expected! Just a whole showing dedicated to the YO button. For the language lessons part everyone just spams YO along with the karaoke-cues since nobody can actually voice along! I LOVE IT

It’s fun getting an idea of who’s a regular prizoom attender! Notable participants for me this event were Luna and the Kouji cosplayer preparing food the whole time??

Bonuses:

These took SO LONG to process because they’re over 20 minutes long each. And youtube just hates me so it kept messing up the blur so I had to keep going back to set them again and wait for that to process and repeat. I wanted to post this as soon as possible!! but youtube wouldn’t let me. Anyways!!!!!!!!!!!

The bonuses were supposed to be 10 minutes but Masashi Igarashi just had so much fun interacting with the participants and gushing about kinpri aaa.... HE’S JUST SO HAPPY TO BE MINATO;;;;;;;;;............... I like Minato just because of him. I hope my super simple and also in English text contributions made him feel appreciated ;;

(Also that was the most I’ve ever seen people use the actual text function......... c... can we do that more.... kinda awkward calling it the text-only room when it’s really just soundboard-only....)

First bonus is here!

Second bonus is here!

I actually messed up recording Minato’s birthday letter so I wont be posting that, but thankfully Luna had it screenshotted and plans to translate it so it’s not lost forever ^^;;;

You can read Luna’s translation of the bonus PrismChat and letter here!

Anyways, reminder that Luna and I aren’t exactly the most reliable source of prizoom coverage (seeing as we skip showings + just have mishaps when it comes to archiving), so if there’s a screening you want to attend, please go and see it yourself! I wrote a guide to help with buying tickets and everything!! It’s also just more fun experiencing the event firsthand than just through tumblr posts!!

And with that....... I wait for Joji’s prizoom.......

#king of prism #prizoom #I guess it was good that processing the videos took so long because I could plug Luna's translations before posting #Embarassing but I was like half asleep going into this since I just came off from work #And the shock of someone farting on cheer woke me up 100%#sss part 2 is actually my favorite part just because of the joji episode so I'm happy I got to attend it #No details for Joji's prizoom yet but sss part 2 is like a guarantee for his birthday showings too so YAY #Remembered to screenshot my rakutenticket page for my tickets to this so I also updated my guide!

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sirowsky · 4 years ago

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The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY

Warnings: Language, smut, extreme lovey-dovey-ness. (Marcus being poetic)

Link to Masterlist

Comment: THE WEDDING. And I somehow managed to drag this out into 8200+ words. Someone take this computer away from me, I have way too much time on my hands, and absolutely ZERO self-control right now!

The big 100 000 words Milestone has been thoroughly crossed with this chapter, and I wanna say thank you to those who sent me words/phrases to incorporate. I had a lot of fun with it! And thank you to everyone who’s read even a single chapter of this crazy story, it means more than I can say.

Chapter 37

Marcus had an idea in his head, that he simply would not leave alone, despite your truly chaotic circumstances, he’d been nagging you about it for two whole days when you finally had enough.

“Oh, for god’s sakes, Marcus, I already agreed to marry you, if you’re so anxious to do it, it’s not like I’m gonna stop you.”

“That’s not exactly the answer I wanna hear.”

You groaned loudly, and annoyedly, earning you a few glances from some of the other people in the store.

“Just how many times am I gonna have to agree with you?”

“I just wanna be sure that you’re not just agreeing because I’m eager to get that raincheck on our wedding.”

“For the hundredth time, honey – I’m agreeing because I love you and I want to marry you, I just don’t see the wisdom of doing it right now. It’s not like we don’t have enough on our fucking plates, already.”

“Sweetheart, when have we not had our plates full? There’s never gonna be a right time.”

“And like I said; if you wanna do it so badly, then you set it all up, and I’ll be there. Now, will you please help me pick out a dining-room table?”

He looked out over the several dozen choices on display, for just a few seconds, and then walked up to one in the middle of the whole assortment. It was a large, square table with a built-in revolving disc in the centre.

“This one.”

“Seriously?”

You swatted his shoulder lightly.

“What?”

“I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes, trying to get you to participate in this furniture-hunt at all, and then you take one fucking look and you locate the perfect table right away?”

“Yeah, I actually have a bit of a gift with this stuff.”

“What, decorating?”

“No, not decorating exactly, just… seeing what fits. Like this rocking-chair, for instance. This would be perfect next to the fire-place. Just don’t ask me about curtains or throw-pillows.”

You looked at the rocking-chair, and damned it if he wasn’t right on the money.

“Well, that settles that, you’re in charge of the purchase list from now on.”

“Na-ah, not until I have an answer.”

“But you already have my answer… Marcus, this is important, we need things to make our house a home. And as if this isn’t stressing me out enough, you want me to make space in my head for fucking garters and flower-arrangements. I’m at the end of my rope here.”

“There’s nothing to stress over, everything’s already set up, we just need a new date.”

“Well, then I’m all ears, love.”

“Okay. This Saturday.”

“Whoa, hold on! You’re not gonna give our guests more than… oh, for crying out loud! What fucking day is it?”

He didn’t even try and hold back his laughter as he answered.

“It’s Wednesday.”

“And you wanna get married this weekend?! Are you really expecting anyone to turn up with that short a notice?”

“As long as two people turn up to be our witnesses, that’s all I need.”

“Fine. Can we move past this subject now?”

“Nope.”

“Marcus…”

“Give me a proper answer.”

“You are really trying to get me to blow a gasket, right now.”

He just looked at you, with all the expectancy of a Labrador waiting for his treat. You took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye, so he’d know you were serious.

“Yes, my darling. If you can put it all together in just two days, I will happily marry you this weekend. Now can you please help me pick out the rest of the furniture for our house, so that we’ll actually have a place to live out our marriage.”

He smiled his melting smile before kissing you deeply, and then he pulled away with a loud pop, snatched the list from your hands and got busy. Two hours later you left the store, after Marcus had somehow convinced the manager to not only deliver your entire stock of household goods before Saturday, but install and decorate everything into the house as well. You shook your head as you walked hand in hand across the parking lot.

“I will bet you a home-cooked dinner that they don’t manage all that within two days.”

“Oh, no, you don’t wanna make that bet, preciosa. These guys are pro’s, I’ve seen them do it before.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Thanks for helping me get this done, honey. It’s been weighing on me like a concrete wall.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just tired. I’m just constantly tired right now.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the little one.”

“I know. But it doesn’t help with everything else going on.”

As you got to your car, he leaned against the side of it and pulled you into a tight hug, nestling his nose into your neck.

“We’re gonna be okay, mi corazón. All of us.”

You felt his body turn a bit formal, and pulled back to see him eyeing two teenagers that were approaching you. He had a soft smile on his face and looked encouragingly at them, while he kept one hand on your lower back as you turned to face them and stand next to him instead. He looked so at ease with the whole situation, but then, he was used to this sort of stuff. You had come across it before, but people generally seemed reluctant to approach him whenever you were near, and while you were grateful for that, it had occasionally made you wonder if you seemed scary to them for some reason.

“It’s okay, you can come closer, we don’t bite.”

The kids were maybe thirteen and fifteen years old, probably siblings and they looked quite unsure and a bit embarrassed.

“Sorry. It’s just… we saw the press-conference, and we had a question.”

Aah, yes… the fucking press-conference. You’d been waiting for someone to approach you about it, though you’d hoped it wouldn’t be kids.

“Okay. Go ahead and ask.”

“Um, well… Can you really defeat Crushing Low in a fight?”

“No. When my powers are working, I can stop him, and I can keep him from moving, but I wouldn’t say I can defeat him in a battle of brawns, I doubt if anyone could.”

“He seemed to think so…”

“He was being kind to the new girl, that’s all. But I could give him one hell of a fight, on a good day, I can promise you that.”

“That’d be so cool!”

“Yeah, you should do that for one of the sizzle-episodes!”

“Maybe, some day. But not while I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, I like your enthusiasm.”

“Is it true, though? About your powers?”

This was the part you’d been waiting for. The press-event had turned into quite the chum-feast for the reporters, as your powers weren’t working and all you could do was generate some glitter to explain your name. Then Crush had gotten angry with their intrusive questions and told them that once you were back to full strength, you’d have no problem taking even him down. And in his fluster, he’d also blurted out that they should show some compassion for a pregnant woman whose powers weren’t even meant to exist. Neither of which you’d meant to disclose at that time and place. That had led to you having to explain that your powers had been generated artificially, as well as the cost that it had had. The lives lost, and the pain you’d suffered, and the many consequences it would continue to generate in the future.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“But, doesn’t that mean that anyone can have powers?”

“No. It really doesn’t. Please listen to me right now.”

You stepped closer and raised your hand, letting a small amount of sparkly dust gather in it, right before their eyes. It was as much power as you had access to.

“You see this?”

Their whole faces lit up and they looked like you were Santa Clause, bringing them their Christmas gifts. You sighed.

“Children paid with their lives in order for me to have this ability. Dozens of them. Some as young as five years old, all in the name of doing something completely unnatural, that’s caused me more pain than I can ever describe to you. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life. This is not something you want, trust me on that. It’s not worth other peoples lives. And if anyone ever approaches you and tells you that you can be super too – walk away, and find a cop or Heroic and tell them everything you can about that person. Because anyone who claims that they can do that, are evil people. Please remember that. Okay?”

The joy in their eyes was long gone by the time you finished, and you felt as though you’d robbed them of something. But this was important. Children, especially, needed to be made aware of the dangers, because they were so easily seduced by the promise of superiority, and had so little restraint to keep them safe from the things they still didn’t understand.

“Powers can’t make anyone a better person. You are worth twice as much as me, you’re so much more important than me.”

“How?”

“Because there’s no blood on your hands. You’re innocent. I’m not, and I never can be again. You’re perfect, just the way you are, and don’t ever let anyone convince you differently.”

The older one, the girl, got really teary-eyed at that, and looked at the ground between her feet.

“But the other kids don’t like me. They bully me…”

“I’m sorry, I know that’s horrible. But bullies only hurt you so that you can’t hurt them. They do it so that they don’t have to stop and feel what’s already hurting them inside. It’s painful and embarrassing, but it’s not really about you. A bully will go after anyone that happens to cross their path, it’s just how they function, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”

The girl suddenly threw herself around your neck and kept thanking you as you held her in return, but then their parents showed up, calling their names and getting flustered when they saw their daughter holding a Heroic, and crying. But rather than ask what was going on with their child, they started apologising to you, and tugging their children away, towards their car. You held your tongue, wanting to tell them to get their priorities straight, but knowing better than to interfere with other’s parenting. So, you just smiled at the girl instead, and waved back to the boy when he raised a hand to you before they disappeared behind the rows of cars.

“If I didn’t already know it, that would’ve been all the proof I needed that you’re gonna be a great mom. You handled that really well, sweetheart.”

Marcus smiled a little sadly at you as you turned and headed towards the passenger side of the car.

“They were sweet kids.”

As you settled into your seats, he took your hand and got very serious for a moment.

“You’re not complicit in what’s been done to you. There’s no blood on your hands, hermosa, there never has been. I don’t ever wanna hear you say that again.”

“Ever since I met Neune, I can’t help but feel…”

You took an unsteady breath and stared out of the passenger window for a moment, looking for the right words.

“If she’s right, then all those children are inside my blood right now. Their powers have accumulated into mine, assimilated into my very DNA. How can I not feel like their lives are in my hands? Like their blood is on my hands, when it’s quite literally inside of me? How do I ever reconcile with that, Marcus?”

Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, with the pure grief of the loss of all those innocents. He didn’t try and comfort you, but just held your hand tighter while you let the feelings out. The hormones and general fatigue made you much more emotional than usual, and it took a good fifteen minutes before you’d gotten enough grief out of your system to begin to calm down again. When Marcus finally spoke, his voice was just as thick with emotion as yours, and you remembered how he’d struggled to tell you about their findings when they’d first arrested Dr. Prince.

“Maybe you don’t need to reconcile with it. Maybe you’re not supposed to. Maybe, the pain you feel for them has a purpose, a message to give you when you need it. Maybe it’s their voices, somewhere deep inside of you that creates the sparkles in your hands. Maybe it’s their way of telling you that they’re with you and that they love you for keeping them alive, even if it’s just through a few cells from each of them. But if they really are there, then you are carrying their legacies with you, in which case our child will as well. If they really are a part of you, however small it might be, then you’re the one that gets to make them live forever.”

You just stared at him. For a long time. And he just stared right back at you, trying to decipher your thoughts, to see if his words had helped you. But you had no idea how to convey the comfort, and the absolute sense of relief his poetic little rant had given you. So, you just told him the only thing you could.

“I love you so damned much I don’t even know what to do with it all.”

The next two days passed in a blur between your regular work (Anita still hadn’t found a replacement for you), Heroics duties, secret spy shit, and wedding stuff. The whole idea of not having sex before the wedding wasn’t something either of you had ever voiced, but you didn’t need to. You were both so exhausted at the end of each day, that you had barely even snuggled up together on your mattress on the floor of Marcus’ office, before you were both out cold. And while he had given you permission to just show up in regular clothes without styling or anything, you did want to make it a day to remember. You wanted that day to be just about the wedding, and give you a chance to forget about all the rest, just for that one day. You felt a bit guilty calling Amaire to take you out for a day of self-indulgence, on the Friday, because you hadn’t seen them in a couple of weeks and when you had, it had only been for work. The Wonder Twins had been the first people to be recruited into your league of heroes, and you’d kept them busy by having them spy on as many people as they could manage, within HQ. As nurses, they had access to people in their more vulnerable moments, and could ask them things other people just couldn’t, in any way that seemed natural. Like, asking if they had any destructive thoughts, or unusual desires, anything that would help them make out the characters of the people they investigated. And they were experts at that. Both when it came to coming up with intrusive questions that didn’t seem out of place for them to ask, but that revealed a lot about a person, depending on their answers, and when it came to sussing out shadiness in others. But, they were true friends, who made no remarks on your lacking social interactions, and instead just rejoiced in an excuse to hang out again, doing fun pampering stuff. Mani-pedi, waxing, massage, hair and facial-treatments was on the menu for the afternoon, and you were actually really excited about it. It felt like half a lifetime ago you’d gone through the same process preparing for your wedding, when in fact it was just over two months ago. The three of you really did indulge yourselves in it, talking only about fun things and the expectations you had for married life, and you took the opportunity to ask about a million questions about pregnancy and child-birth. They gave you good and helpful tips about how to stay energised and keep your hormones in check, and you just had a wonderful afternoon full of laughter and enjoyment. Something you hadn’t had in a very long time. When you got back to HQ, at about 4 pm, you were actually pleasantly tired, for once, and you hoped to get a moment alone with Marcus before he’d be heading over to Anita’s for the night. He did want you to stick to the tradition of not sleeping together the night before, like he’d mentioned in your very first conversation about the wedding, but you hadn’t realised just how serious he was about it, until you got to his office and found a note on the bed.

--Hermosa, I look forward to sleeping next to you in our new bed in our own home, but until then, I hope you’ll sleep with my name on your lips as I’ll definitely sleep with yours on mine. Te amo, mi novia, mi amada, mi corazón. M—

He’d already left, and suddenly your good mood wasn’t quite as good anymore. But, there was a point to this separation, and you did have more things to get done before you could call it a day, so you kissed the note before putting it in his top drawer, and then you made your way down to the Batcave again. While you hadn’t yet begun to swell up, your dress still needed adjusting to the little bump, not to be uncomfortable for you to wear for a whole day. Standing in front of those mirrors again, seeing the dress in all its splendour, you felt so lucky, so privileged to have found the man of your dreams. Dreams you’d never really dared to have, in the first place.

“It still looks so perfect, Velma. Thank you so much for this.”

“It’s entirely my pleasure, darling. The adjustments won’t take more than a few minutes, so you can wait here while I take care of it.”

“I was hoping I could just leave it here, until tomorrow. I was gonna ask you to doll me up, I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Oh, sugar, of course I will!”

“Thank you. God, I’m tired. It’s not even 7 pm yet…”

“Here, let me help you out of the dress and you can go turn in early, maybe you’ll feel a bit more rested tomorrow. I know that’s not likely with expectant mothers, but still, it can’t hurt.”

“I guess not. Hey, I’ve never asked you what sexuality you are, or if you’ve ever wanted children? You can tell me to fuck off if I’m being too nosy, I’ve spent the day with Amaire, and there aren’t really any boundaries between us.”

“No, sweetie, that’s fine. I’m bisexual, and I’ve had both male and female partners in the past, though it’s been a few years since I had anything lasting. Being a guy that likes to drag up does limit my options, somewhat.”

“So, is Velma just a character, or is she the person you really are?”

“Velma is… my heart. I literally wear her on my sleeves. She’s everything that’s true about me – drawn to the extreme, I admit – but she’s real. Not in the sense that I feel like a woman in a man’s body, but just in the sense that I’ve never felt like I’ve been allowed to be the sensitive and emotional and… breakable person that I know I am at heart. As a man, especially with my physique, I’m expected to be tougher than that, and it’s just not me. But trying to just be a sensitive man labels me even worse than being a drag-queen does.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t really know what else to say.”

“That’s alright, darling, there isn’t much you could say. And you don’t need to. Your friendship, the way you instantly decided that I was a worthwhile person to have in your life, that told me everything I’ll ever need to know about you. As for children… I’d love to have a kid someday, but only with the right person. Only if I really felt like I’d found my soulmate.”

“Yeah, that feeling I know.”

“Outside of the glitter, and the daring outfits, my name’s David.”

“I appreciate you telling me that, but I think you’ll always be Velma to me. David sounds a little too… colourless. And between that gorgeous ebony skin, and the sparkly outfits, the one thing you’re most certainly not – is colourless.”

“Thank you, darling. Now, get that sweet little tush to bed, it’s got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“And just what makes you think you have any idea what my tush gets up to?”

“Knowing you and Marcus: a whole lot of workin’, that’s what.”

You smiled as your head hit the pillow a little while later. Today had been a good day, and with a little luck, tomorrow would be even better. You did fall asleep with his name on your lips, as you whispered it again and again into the smell of his shampoo in the pillow.

***

Marcus was sitting in an armchair, with his feet propped up on the foot of the bed, in his old room at his mother’s house, drinking a cold beer and just looking out the window at the few stars that had begun to appear in the evening sky. His thoughts jumped between wondering what your dress would look like, to how you’d smile at him, and how much he looked forward to dancing with you. He was looking forward to all of it, but holding you close and twirling your body across a dancefloor, to be admired by everyone there, was sending tendrils of excitement through him. And the idea that he’d get to do that after you’d sworn yourself to him, after you’d declared to the whole world that you belonged to him, was making his heart race. He glanced for the hundredth time at his suit, hanging on the back of the door to the closet, wondering if you’d like it, then scolding himself for his insecurity, because he knew you would. Just like you knew he’d like your dress. A light knock on the door drew him out of his thoughts, and he recognised it right away.

“Come in, sweetheart.”

“Hey, dad, mind if I join you for a minute?”

“I never mind your company.”

“Hah, liar.”

She smiled as she sat down next to his feet on the bed.

“I don’t.”

“Yeah, dad, you do, whenever Alma sways her hips, or bites her lip.”

“That’s… different. It doesn’t mean I mind your company.”

“It’s okay, dad, really. I’m glad she does that to you.”

“You are?”

“You guys just fit together, it’s kind of amazing to watch actually.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“So, are you nervous?”

“Not about the wedding. Just that something might come up and force us to postpone again.”

“If it does, we’ve all made a pact not to tell you about it, so relax. Come tomorrow, you’re getting married.”

“And what about you? Any nerves?”

“Nope. Just glad it’s finally happening. You both deserve this. We all do.”

“You’re right about that, it’s been one hell of a rocky road.”

“The only thing that’s ever scared me about you two, is the thought that you wouldn’t make it. You’ve come so close to being ripped apart, so many times, and seeing what that did to you, each time… it made me terrified of what would be left of you if you lost her.”

He pulled his legs down from the bed and got up to sit down next to her and pull her into a hug.

“Oh, honey…”

“After mom, you were mostly just either sad or angry, but with Alma… I don’t know, it’s like you disappear. Like your soul just fades away without her.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve had to see that, peanut.”

“I’m not, because it helps me understand how much you love her. I know it doesn’t take anything away from how much you loved mom, but that was different. Even the way you… sound… when you’re with her, it’s all different.”

“I really don’t like the idea that you’ve heard how I sound with either of them…”

“Dad, stop being such a prude. It’s not like I actively listen, but you get loud sometimes. Both of you.”

“Oh, god, please stop talking about this.”

“Will you just let me explain where I’m going with it?”

“…Fine.”

“I almost never heard you with mom, and I get the feeling that the two of you weren’t as active as you and Alma are.”

“I changed my mind, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore…”

“Dad… my point is – the way you sound with Alma, it’s like she makes you forget that there’s even a world around you. Now, I don’t know much about sex, beyond what Alma’s beginning to teach me, but I get that for the two of you; it’s much more than just physical. It connects you, in some way that I don’t understand the first thing about, except that I see it between you. Every time you touch her, every time you look at her, it’s there, and even though I’m too young to understand it, I do see it. And I love seeing it. Because it makes the two of you feel unbreakable. Am I making any sense?”

He swallowed hard trying to dislodge the lump of emotions stocking up in his throat. Holy hell was his little girl observant and smart. Despite his discomfort with the subject-matter, he couldn’t help but admire her.

“Yes, sweetheart, you are. You’re… just growing up too fast for me.”

“Oh, just wait until I get my period… if you’re flustered now…”

“Missy, I will have you know that that’s actually a subject I’m not the least bit afraid of. When that day comes, while I certainly understand it’s more comfortable to talk to a woman about it, I’ll still be here if you need me.”

“Really? You don’t mind talking about that stuff?”

“Not one bit. It’s natural and beautiful, and horrible, all at the same time. But nothing at all to be afraid of. Your mom taught me that.”

“Thanks mom. And thank you, dad. I’ll probably turn to Alma, that day, but it’s still really nice to know that you’re not gonna run from the room if I mention it.”

“I’d never run from you, honey. But you do need to run to bed now, big day tomorrow.”

“Love you loads.”

“Love you tonnes.”

She skipped away and he closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He’d somehow survived another sex-talk with his teenage daughter, and he still had no idea how. Knowing she’d heard the two of you, repeatedly, was mortifying, but finding out she didn’t see it as something gross or horrifying, was oddly comforting. He finished his beer and went to put the bottle in the recycling, and through the kitchen window, he saw Anita outside in the garden.

“Hey, mom. What are you doing out here in the dark?”

“Some flowers prefer to be pruned and cleaned after dark.”

“Ah, I see. Are they behaving this year?”

“All but the dahlias. I think your amada has something to do with that.”

“What? How could she possibly have anything to do with your garden?”

“They’re her flowers.”

“Since when? You’ve always had dahlias.”

“Yes, but she claimed them as hers a good while back, and now they’re responding to her. She’s struggling with a lot right now, and the flowers know it. They follow her lead.”

“You mean… your flowers actually are magical?”

“Nature is magical, hijo. You just have to know how to speak to it.”

“Right, yeah, I’m not even gonna go there.”

“Have you figured out which flowers are yours yet?”

“Mom…”

“I’ve been asking you that for almost 20 years now, and you still haven’t worked it out.”

“Because, honestly, I have no idea what you even mean.”

“You will, son. Eventually.”

He fell asleep later, whispering your name to the stars outside the window, gently drifting off while he recited every nickname he’d ever given you.

***

You woke up actually feeling rested, for the first time in months, even if your morning mood was still very much on the cranky side of the fence. You had breakfast alone, in your own pace, grateful that the lack of powers had at least given you back a normal appetite, and that you didn’t suffer too badly with any morning sickness or other greater discomforts from your pregnancy. You took a long and hot shower, pampering your freshly kneaded and lightly peeled skin with oils and scented creams, before packing up your little nest in Marcus’ office, happily acknowledging that you’d never have to camp there again. And then you made your way down to Velma for your styling and final fitting of the dress. She was extra sparkly today, in a long red dress that looked like it was made from diamonds, an absolutely gorgeous black wig that she’d styled to perfection and left hanging down her shoulders, and garnished at the top with a fake flower wreath with red lilies, also looking like diamonds. Other brides might have felt like she was trying to outshine them, but you knew that Velma simply had so much confidence in the dress she’d made for you, that no one would bat an eye at her, once you’d made your entrance. And, honestly, you would’ve been disappointed if she’d opted to dress down for your big day. It was just the two of you for your whole preparation, but when you were two hours away from the ceremony, Anita and Missy showed up. You’d asked Missy if she wanted to get expertly styled for the wedding as well, and while she wasn’t much of a dress-up kind of girl, she’d accepted the offer, seen as how she was the maid of honour. Velma had just finished laying the final touches to the dress when they walked in.

“Oh, my god… Alma… you look amazing.”

“Thank you, sweetie. I actually feel really pretty. Do you think your dad’s gonna like it?”

“He’d better have a chair or some cushions behind him, cause he’s gonna swoon. Seriously.”

“Okay, your turn.”

While Velma worked her magic on Missy, Anita came to stand next to you at the other end of the room.

“Ay, loco. Even I have to admit – you might just be the prettiest damned flower I’ve ever seen.”

“An actual complement? With no sour aftertaste? What on earth have I done to deserve this?”

“You make my son and my granddaughter happy. That’s all it takes. And you know that.”

“Just like I know you liked me from the start, and still put me through hell.”

“I had my reasons.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just hope…”

“What is it, niña?”

You sighed and tears burned in the corners of your eyes.

“I hope that I can get this right, you know. That I won’t end up… hurting them.”

She shocked you by gently pulling you into a hug and holding you tightly. It was the first genuine sign of affection she’d ever given you, even though you’d known how much she liked you, for a long time now.

“When you’re scared, hold them closer, when you’re happy, share it with them, and when you’re sad, lean on them. Don’t ever push them away, and you’ll never really hurt them. Do you hear me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“But you know what this means, right?”

“What’s that?”

“I win the hug-challenge.”

She pulled completely away from you and glared at you, suddenly snapped back to the Anita you knew her to be. But she didn’t bite back, she just accepted defeat and walked over to Missy to see how her make-over was coming along.

You pulled up to the back of the pavilion with about 15 minutes to spare, and Missy hopped out of the car right away.

“Hey, wait! You need to take this.”

You pulled the ring off of your finger and handed it to her, and she smiled and put it in one of the pockets that Velma had cleverly concealed into the folds of her dress. She’d been shocked to realise that you’d asked the Queen to make a customised dress for her too, but she’d loved it from the moment she saw it. It was laser-blue with a candy-coat of white over it, covered in embroidered flowers in every shade of blue you can imagine, with matching shoes and jewellery to go with it. And with the styled hair and discreet make-up, she looked like a pixie or a fairy. She and Velma darted off to find Marcus, while Anita stayed with you in the car, since she’d be the one to give you away.

***

Marcus had spent that whole morning in a daze, not knowing what the hell he was doing half the time, because his mind kept picturing what the day was gonna bring. By the time he needed to suit up, he’d already spilled two cups of coffee, misplaced his keys and phone some half-dozen times each, and walked out into the garden three times, only to forget what he went out there for.

“Oh, get a grip, man! It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

But the truth was, he really hadn’t. This wedding would be nothing like his previous one, and you were nothing like his former wife. All of this was somehow new. He donned the white, three-piece suit, with the golden embroidery on the vest and tie, and checked himself over in the mirror. Anita and Missy had gone to meet you and get ready, so he’d drive himself to the secluded grove, and meet you all there. He was ridiculously careful not to go near any fluids once the suit was on, and just grabbed his phone and keys, and stepped into the hallway to leave. But then he felt like he needed to go back out to the garden. Had he forgotten something back there? He stepped out among the flowers, and looked around, but there was nothing there. So why was he so drawn to it? He took a breath and looked at all the flowers, one by one, feeling utterly ludicrous as he tried to ascertain if they’d somehow drawn him out there, and just as he was about to scoff and turn back into the house, something caught his eye. He stepped towards the bush, not really knowing why, but feeling compelled to all the same. One flower, more than all the others, held his attention, and he knew he needed to take it with him. Just that one. Why? Who the hell knew… But he picked up his mothers shears, and cut the flower off the bush and took it with him as he left.

Missy looked radiant and so grown up as she bounded towards him, absolutely beaming.

“Dad, you are so gonna swoon! She’s so gorgeous!”

“So are you, sweetheart! Wow, look at you. I really can’t call you my little girl anymore, can I?”

“You have my permission to call me that on special occasions.”

“Thank you, peanut.”

“So, nervous yet?”

“A little bit, but mostly just brimming with anticipation, I guess.”

“Well, I have her ring, now I just need yours.”

“Right.”

He fished it out of his breast-pocked and handed it to her.

“So… is she really gorgeous? I mean, I know she is, but…”

“Dad, I’m not kidding, Tech had better be standing right next to you when she comes into view, because I really don’t think your legs can take what you’re about to experience.”

“That actually scares me a tiny bit.”

“Don’t worry, dad, I’ve got your back.”

The priest called everyone to their places then, and Marcus, Missy and Tech took their spots on the small stage that had been put in the middle of the lawn, with the fifty-odd guests seated on two sections leading up to it. That part was all very classic, but since neither of you had any extended family, at least in attendance, there was no seating order. The guests consisted of all of the Heroics and their families, Amanda, Claire and their families, Velma, Izzy, William and a few other friends of Marcus, that you hadn’t really met yet, so everyone was free to sit wherever they pleased. It was amazing that everyone on your guestlist had just dropped everything in order to attend.

The music started, and Marcus turned back towards his best man and whispered:

“Stand close to me, okay. I really might fall over.”

“Don’t worry, pal, I got you.”

A few moments later, you stepped into view from behind the pavilion, but since the guests were all standing up, he couldn’t quite see you, until you reached the aisle between the seating sections. He felt Tech’s hands grab him as his legs really did give out. Thankfully, you were moving slowly towards the stage, smiling radiantly at him, and it gave him just enough time to coerce his legs into working again, so that he could take your hand and help you up the three steps to the stage. He was vaguely aware that there were other people present, but all he could see was you.

***

He looked like all the stars in the sky had fallen just to be there to help him shine. His eyes were indescribably happy, and his whole being seemed incandescent. Burning so brightly with his passion, yet simultaneously cooled by his incredulity. He really couldn’t believe this was happening, but he was also immeasurably grateful and humbled that it was. You’d asked the priest to keep it brief, and she did. Missy brought you the rings and you recited the vow’s, but you both struggled to speak over the depth of your emotions, to the point where it sort-of became comical. The guests laughed with you as you fumbled your way through them, equally embarrassed at your own inability to complete the simple task of repeating a few short sentences. But once Marcus slipped the ring onto your finger, his whole demeanour changed. Suddenly he was sure, solid and dependable in his conviction that you now belonged to each other. And an unmistakable pride rose through him, instinct making him stand tall and fierce against any man who might try to take you from him. The priest then switched to Spanish all of a sudden, and your eyes turned to her to silently ask what she’d said, but then Marcus’ lips found yours and you already knew. It was a kiss so full of love and admiration and gratitude that you couldn’t have described it to anyone. It was respect and loyalty and kindness and promise. The promise of a future where you’d never be alone, never know betrayal and never have to fear your home. You could only hope your response was something close to the same. Wanting to share your joy with everyone there, you sent your rainbow high into the sky above, drenching everyone in the sparkling dust, and making them laugh as they applauded you. You’d chosen to skip the traditional line-up for everyone to congratulate you individually, and opted for just jumping straight into the food instead, something everyone appreciated. During dinner, the powered kids played around with their abilities, making the whole grove come alive in an altogether different way than just the general joy and positive atmosphere could achieve. Since there was a pond nearby, Guppy had unlimited access to water, and she had animals of all shapes and sizes encroaching on the guests as they tried to eat. The twins were having fun with repeating whenever someone spilled something, and speeding up conversations that bored them. Noodles just stole food from everyone, and laughed as they tried to remember if they’d eaten it or not. And A Capella kept up a steady stream of beautifully sappy love-songs all through the meal. It was perfect. You and Marcus barely spoke at all. You just sat in the middle of the chaos, one hand always in contact with each other, smiling at the scenes that played out before you, that would become lifelong memories. The cake was cut in the traditional manner, and you both behaved as you fed each other the first bite, but Marcus quickly kissed you as soon as the forks were out of your mouths, effectively sharing your bites with one another. The kids all groaned at that, but Missy just smiled.

And then the moment finally arrived. You knew how much Marcus had waited to get to dance with you like this, and he was impossibly enthusiastic as he pulled you along into the pavilion, while the guests gathered along the rails, giving you the floor for the first dance. The band started playing the waltz you’d chosen, and Marcus courtly bowed to you, while asking for your hand, so you played along and curtsied elegantly while you took it and let him pull you in close. His technique had quickly improved once you’d started tutoring him. He already had a good posture and his long back lended itself well to this type of dance. Since the floor was empty, his eyes only ever left yours when he twirled you around, displaying you to his friends and colleagues, now as his bride and wife. Never to be confused for anything lesser. As the song ended, he came to a stop and wrapped both his arms around your waist, leaning his forehead against yours for a moment, before he kissed you. After that, the band changed the song to a foxtrot, and almost all of the couples in the crowd joined you, and the mood shifted back to light-hearted and fun. But Marcus was quickly losing interest in the party, tugging you to the side and asking if it would be too early for the two of you to duck out already. You just shook your head in response, and when he led you towards your car, Anita was there, holding his keys. He thanked her and kissed her goodnight, and she smiled at both of you as you drove away in the darkness.

The house looked warm and welcoming as you parked on the driveway. There were lamps and curtains in the windows, and you could see furniture behind them. As you walked around the side to the main entrance, you could see furniture on the patio, and plants in large pots that hadn’t been there before. Marcus brought you to the door, but stopped before opening it.

“For most of my adult life, my mother’s been asking me what type of flower I am. Yesterday, she changed the question and asked me what flowers are mine, which one’s I claim. And this morning, I finally understood what she meant.”

Out of seemingly nowhere, he suddenly produced a large white rose in full bloom, and held it to his lips while he breathed in its scent.

“You claimed dahlias because of their royalty, their heritage as survivors that thrive almost anywhere with just a little assistance. I claim roses because of their history too. Because the one thing I want to give you, is my love.”

He handed you the perfect flower and you took it, not fully understanding what he was trying to tell you, except that he loved you. Then he unlocked the door, before swooping you up into his arms, and carrying you inside.

“Marcus…”

Aside from the fact that every detail of the furnishings and decorations were spot on, he’d had the entire house flooded with roses. The front door entered into the living room and there were vases filled with them on every flat surface that you could see, and the floor was littered with petals, in all colours.

“Welcome home, mi esposa, mi hermosa, mi querida. My Rainbow.”

He didn’t put you down, but carried you through the living room, and the dining room, past the kitchen and into the hallway that led to the two rooms on the bottom floor. One was the nursery, and the other was the master bedroom. He set you down gently and let you turn around to look at the room. The bed was huge, but you already knew that, you’d been there when he picked it out. There was a window on either side of the massive head-board, and a bedside table underneath each of them. The insanely large walk-in closet was to the left, and there was a padded bench at the foot of the bed, but other than that, the bed really did take up most of the space. And it too, was covered in rose-petals. There were huge bouquets in vases on both of the bedside-tables, and you could see petals on the floor of the master bathroom to the right as well. His hands came around your waist from behind and his mouth started trailing warm kisses along your neck and bare shoulders.

“Tonight… I claim you, my love. When I come deep inside you, I do it knowing that no one else ever will. And I give you the same claim to me.”

His words had you boiling in a mere instant, your insides craving his promise, and the opportunity to let yourself be claimed. He felt the rush of heat in your skin, and his hands slipped back to open the back of your dress. It was a simple design, easy to get into, easy to move in, and easy to remove. It pooled around your feet in a surprisingly small pile, and you stepped out of it while you turned to look into his eyes. Your underwear was a simple white bra and panties, since you suspected he might wanna rip them off. He stared down the length of your body while he removed his whole suit, without tearing it up, but still pretty damned fast, and then he guided you to the side of the bed. He did tear your underwear off, mostly because he knew you secretly loved it when he did that, before laying you down on the soft bed and kissing you deeper than he ever had before. His mouth seemed capable of conveying twice as much emotion as it used to, all of a sudden. There were no games played between you that night. He slipped inside you quickly, needing you as much as you needed him, and when you pushed off the mattress wanting to straddle him so that you could both move, he immediately followed your lead. Your arms wrapped so tightly around each other that your lungs were being slightly compressed, but neither of you even noticed or cared. Your first three orgasms were powerful and loud, full of love and passion, and your bodies trying to somehow bear the weight of your endless desire. But the following two were almost animalistic as you succumbed to pure craving. He took you from behind and by then, your walls were so overstimulated that he could move freely, and his thrusts were firm and demanding, while he rested his whole body along the back of yours, pushing you down into the soft mattress while his hands stayed by your hips, ready to move under you to work your clit if you needed him to. But you noticed that his left hand stayed close to your baby, not squeezing or massaging, just resting there, protectively, and lovingly. His mouth was right by your ear, and his breathlessly whispered claims made you squirm with pleasure against his chest.

“Tell me you’re mine, querida.”

“Yes, I’m yours. Always.”

Your confirmation made him thrust harder.

“Marcus… tell me…”

“What? What do you want, mi amor?”

“Tell me… how I feel to you.”

He groaned and his thrusts deepened, grinding into you every time he buried himself fully.

“You feel like wet silk. So warm… so smooth… so strong around me.”

Each word brought you closer to your fifth peak, and he could feel it. His movements became more urgent, more demanding, and you lifted your hips to give him an even better angle.

“Oh, hermosa… you feel like morning dew in the grass… like clouds in the sky.”

Knowing he wouldn’t need them to help you over the edge, he moved his hands up to intertwine with yours, squeezing hard as he felt you begin to clamp down over him. You could tell from how his breathing changed, that he knew that you were gonna come hard this time. You gasped out a single sentence right before your orgasm overtook you.

“You feel like you were made to please me.”

The sounds he made as your pussy pinned him down, drew him in and wrung every ounce of pleasure he possessed, out of him, were unlike anything you’d ever heard from him before. Desperate and almost pained, but also so satisfied and content. Your bodies were completely spent after that, and you barely had enough strength to crawl under the covers and nuzzle up to each other, before you passed out.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys @blueeyesatnight @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog @giselatropicana

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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tickle-bugs · 3 years ago

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I had two people ask for some advice on starting up/running a blog, so I thought I’d make a little post for anyone else looking for advice! There’s no one right way to run a blog and I am by no means an expert. This is just a compilation of some of the things I’ve learned :)

Feel free to add advice to this!

- The first thing is something I cannot stress enough. Write for yourself first. You will be absolutely miserable if you’re only writing for attention. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s so incredibly important. If you don’t like a prompt, fandom, or scenario? You don’t have to write for it! A personal example: I’m a theatre kid and total musical nerd. I could probably write some compelling Dear Evan Hansen or Hamilton headcanons if I wanted to, but I don’t. That’s fine! I’m allowed to say I won’t write for it and deny prompts/requests for those fandoms.

- Set boundaries. This is a very mixed community with all sorts of creators and participants with hands in different baskets. Don’t want minors to interact? Put minors DNI in your bio. SFW only? Put it in the bio. No RP? Bio. This goes for private conversations/askbox/other interactions as well. If someone comes into your askbox/dms and says something that makes you uncomfy, shut it down.

- My advice is more geared towards writing than art or video, but I suppose you could apply this advice as well. Make what makes you happy! If you’re only in one fandom, feel free to stay there and make content for it. Multi-fandom? Excellent! Completely non-fandom? Epic! Make the content that you want to see and the content that makes you happy to create, especially if you’re in a more niche fandom/area.

- Organization. ...I’ll admit this one is more of a personal pet peeve than something urgent, but it is something that people positively respond to. If you have some sort of consistency/organization to your blog, it’ll make it easier and more enjoyable for people to navigate. Make a fandom list/indicate your fandoms somehow (mostly for prompt purposes. people can’t read your mind, so it’s important to tell them what you will write for and what you won’t, however you want to do that)!

Make a masterpost/link your fic tag! Use a fic tag of some kind. Give your fics summaries and leave a little bit of the fic above the ‘read more’ to intrigue folks (look at #my fics and my masterpost for basic examples of how I do this, if you need!). Use read mores. Please use read mores (if you can, idk if they’re on mobile. regardless no one wants to encounter a three thousand word block of text on their dash). (No seriously though, organize your blog, even if it’s super simple. literally just a ‘mine’ or ‘my fics’ or ‘[pseud] writes’ and a fandom tag. It’ll make it easier for people to find your stuff and support you)

- Practice general internetiquette. Please remember that the people in this community are real people with feelings, boundaries, and lives outside of the blog that they run. Be genuine and people will respond to you! Don’t manipulate people into likes/reblogs/attention. No one wants to be on the other end of that. Being in this community isn’t a transaction or a mosh pit, it’s an experience.

- Be ever-so-liberal with the block button. Someone’s user makes you uncomfortable? They give you bad vibes? They’re a minor/older than you and you don’t want them interacting with your content? You don’t wanna see their blog for some reason? Block em. This goes for anons too. That’s what the button is for. Don’t feel guilty for using it. Use it.

- How you write is 100% a personal choice and not really something that I can give advice on, but embrace your style! take prompts if you want, or don’t. Write oneshots, series, drabbles, or novels. Write romantic, or don’t. Etc. Change things up if you feel like it. Do what you want. Your blog, your style, your rules.

- Numbers matter. Don’t let them define you. This is a bit of a harder one to explain, but I will try. I often say that I don’t care about numbers, and I really don’t, but that’s not to say that I don’t see them and they have zero effect on me. I absolutely notice and am bummed if a fic doesn’t get notes, or at least the notes that I was expecting. That is entirely normal and okay to experience. What isn’t okay, though, is creating for the sake of getting notes/numbers/attention (re: write for yourself first, internetiquette). If you find yourself relying on tumblr for gratification and a reward, I implore you to take a break. I’m not your therapist or your parent, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but when you make things only for the sake of notes, people notice. Celebrate your milestones. Know that it’s okay to be bummed about low notes/celebrate getting plenty. Just make sure that you don’t depend on the numbers for your happiness, or you will be miserable.

- You’re (probably) doing this for free. You are providing people content: a service. Produce as much or as little as you’re comfy with, but always remember that. No one is entitled to what you make. If someone asks you for headcanons, sends a prompt when prompts are closed, etc, and you don’t feel like fulfilling it? You have no obligation to do that. Getting commissioned is another story entirely, but as long as you’re making free content, you have zero obligation to do anything for anyone and certainly no time constraints. It can take me months to finish prompts, and that’s okay. I do them when I do them and I fill them how I want to. If my prompts are closed, I deny new ones until I’m ready to accept them. Make yourself happy first.

- How you interact with others is up to you! It’s generally considered good practice to like/reblog your mutuals fics/art, but this is not necessarily a hard and fast rule. I veeeeeery rarely reblog fics for fandoms that I’m not in, even from my mutuals. What you can do to show your support (and you should try and show support somehow. No one is in competition. Everyone’s in your boat, whether they have no followers or 1k) is send an ask/reply to the post/leave tags to let the author know you liked it. Like the fic and don’t reblog it, if you don’t want to. Just make sure you show your mutuals (and others in general!) roughly the same support they show you, however you decide to do that. Treat others how you want to be treated, as cheesy as it sounds :)

- Don’t repost content that isn’t yours without express permission from the original creator, and credit them appropriately. If you see a cute piece of tickle art and the artist doesn’t want it reposted? Don’t repost it. Don’t post fics/videos/gifs that aren’t yours (obviously if it’s like a scene from a movie/a clip on youtube that’s different, but don’t take credit for things you didn’t make, including ideas). Can’t tell you how frustrating it is to have work stolen from you. Don’t be that person. ‘Credit to original artist’ and ‘credit unknown’ is total bullshit btw. Link/tag the creator in the original post and make it clear you don’t own the content. Best practice is to ask the original creator if they’re okay with reposting, work inspired by or connected to theirs, etc. This goes doubly for saving/downloading someone’s fics.

- It is not illegal for a minor to have normal, nonsexual, healthy friendships with people older than them. There’s a weird attitude that minors have nothing of value to offer adults besides a relationship/sex, which is...not true? Minors are thinking, living human beings with feelings, thoughts, and opinions. You can talk to them like normal people, because they are. Just obviously don’t talk about/introduce sex or endanger them. Minors don’t bring up sex/activities you’re underage for with an adult. IDK this isn’t a seminar just...don’t be weird. Adults can offer great life experience, support systems, and the basic joys and needs of human connection. Minors can too. Mind your business unless someone’s actually in danger. The next point is a caveat, though:

- If you’re a minor, don’t interact with NSFW blogs/blogs with ‘Minors DNI’, NSFW blogs don’t interact with minors, etc etc. Not your parent or whatever but this is pretty common sense and it’s for everyone’s safety, but especially the NSFW person. internettiquette!

- If you use your TK blog as a side blog (meaning you have another blog as your main blog, not two separate accounts) and don’t want your main exposed, that is up to you. I recommend not liking posts. Also, follow people that you trust. These actions route through your main blog and your main will show up in the notes. You can reblog from a sideblog. If you want to send an ask “as your tk blog”, send an anon and sign it somehow, like ‘hey :) // @/tickle-bugs’. It should tag you in the post so you get a notification when it’s answered!

- Find your people! As an anxious person this one has been hard for me, so I know it’s hard for a lot of people. Fandom is literally a community of shared interest. Peachy and I have an iron bond almost two years later and we met talking over shared interests. You can absolutely find your people here. If someone makes you happy, strike up a conversation! Send an ask! You never know what doors it might open or whose day you might improve :)

- If you were an anon/lurker on someone’s blog and they inspired you to write/submit/start your own, sign your messages!! the common form that I see is either an emoji or [noun/context of the ask]!anon (prodigal!anon (i miss u every day), butterfly!anon, etc.) Let us know how to find and support you!! Those messages produce good brain juice.

- The big finale: Have fun. If you’re not having fun here, maybe you could tweak something to make things enjoyable. Running a blog is like driving a car. Keep your hands on the wheel, respectfully indicate your intentions (flashing lights optional), and be safe. Poebody’s nerfect, y’know. If you make a mistake, course correct. I’m by no means perfect. Your favs aren’t either. Just do your best and have a good time :)

@rosytickles and the anon in my inbox, I hope this helps! Thank you for asking me, I’m very honored that you value my opinon/experience/advice. I apologize if I come off as preachy or aggressive, I envisioned grabbing my younger self by the lapels and shaking me vigorously while I wrote this. Probably a bad idea.

Anywho, hope it helps. Anyone with questions, additions, or comments, my askbox is open! Just be constructive, is all I ask.

#bug speaks #advice tag #sorry again if this sounds preachy or aggressive at any point i literally wrote it like i was grabbing younger me by the lapels #these are all things i learned through experience/observation i promise im not talking out of my ass here #the largest obstacle to maintaining a blog is how you view your happiness in relation to it. talked about it above but yeah.#also like i said: not a professional and not your parent. just giving friendly advice sine i was directly asked for it.#might add more to this if I think of more #my askbox and dms are open for questions/comments/additions just pls be respectful and constructive #other tfb community members feel free to add to this!

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falloutsketchysecretsanta · 4 years ago

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Sketchy Secret Santa: THE HOLIDAY PROMPT!

Friends, fans, and followers-- it’s finally here! The time you’ve all been waiting for! The anon function is off, the request window is OPEN, and the prompt is HERE!

For those who have never participated in a Sketchy event before, let me break it down for you. Sketchy Secret Santa is a Fallout Fandom Event where you send in a sketch request to our group of volunteer artists to whip up a nifty gifty for someone else as an anonymous surprise! If you’d like more information, here’s a link to our info post.

And now, let’s get into the meat of THIS post. How to send a Valid Request, the Do’s and Don’ts, the Prompt List itself, and What to expect after you send a request in!

[Read more to keep dashboards clean]

To Send a Valid Sketchy Secret Santa Request, Please Send an Ask Including The Following:

WHOM the request is for. ---- At current, we are only making requests for people on Tumblr. We’ll need their username so we can @ tag them with the finished work when it’s posted.

The character[s] you’d like sketched up ---- All characters welcome! Canon, OC’s, everyone is fair game so long as it’s Fallout! ---- MAXIMUM FOUR CHARACTERS PER REQUEST. Our artists are working on a volunteer basis, and more figures means more time. ---- Is a request intended to be shippy? Let us know! We don’t read minds. ---- Poly? Found family? Hell yes! Just make sure to let us know the relationship context for the request. All genders and sexualities welcome, so long as everyone is a consenting adult.

1 [ONE!] Item from the prompt list below ---- The prompt list is both to give the artists direction and to limit the scope of what can be requested, keeping things manageable. ---- The items on the prompt list can be considered INSPIRATION, and what is drawn is up to artist interpretation of that prompt. ---- Do not dictate specific poses, colors, or situations. These are freebies, not commissions. All specifics are up to the volunteer artist who takes your request. ---- Do not dictate a specific artist to fulfill your request. Artists are operating on a self-directed basis and are, again, volunteers providing freebies to spread holiday joy. If you want work from a specific artist, might I suggest checking their commission status?

[OPTIONALLY!!] Tell us what holiday traditions the requested characters keep. ---- While there are various holidays on the prompt list, those are general AF prompts. Telling us what holidays an OC celebrates, or what holidays you HC a canon character to celebrate is additional character context and EXTREMELY ENCOURAGED, and does not replace the prompt. It’s like reference information-- telling the artist whom they’re drawing.

Please Do:

Be polite! Say please and thank you, be kind to the askbox managers, ect. Everyone working on this project is doing so on a volunteer basis.

Be patient. Depending on what kind of traffic we see right off the bat, it may take a hot second for your request to be accepted.

Be present and ready to provide ref information! If you request an OC for a friend, we’re going to need reference material for our artists to work with! Have files ready upon request, and be prepared for one of our helpers to request that information through the Tumblr IM [check your blog settings and make sure you’re set to accept messages]

Be kind. We’re going to do our best to get to every request we can throughout the month, but please don’t be upset with us if we can’t serve everyone.

Please Don’t:

Try to circumvent the rules. Just don’t.

Be an entitled jackass. This is a volunteer holiday event. We’re gonna do our best, don’t be a jerk if there’s mix ups or we don’t get to your request.

Try to request for yourself. The whole point of this event is do something nice for others.

Ghost us. Please, please don’t send a request in and then ghost the staff of the event. Nothing kills morale quite like a participant dropping off the map without a word.

Okay, are we through all the rules stuff? Then onwards to...

THE PROMPT LIST!

The following is a list of words, phrases, ideas, and memories brainstormed by our team of volunteers to give the requests direction and verity. You may pick 1 [ONE] per request.

Christmas

Hanukah

Kwanza

Samhain

Keeping Old Traditions

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Drifted Myths

Twisted Christmas Tales

Deck the Halls

Making Decorations

Repurposed/Reused/Recycled

Junk into Jolly

Improvised Christmas Tree

Nuka Cola Christmas

Santa Spotting

Holiday Clothes

Ugly Sweaters

Posing for Pictures

Gift Exchange

Present Scavenging

Firelight

Thawing out

Tending the Bonfire

Lights

Unexpected Kindness

Little Mercies

Rare Reunions

Community Celebration

Found Family

Oh Shit I’ve never had real friends during the holidays before

Holiday Meal

Baked Goods

Potluck

Fireside Cooking

Kitchen Catastrophes

Pound Cake

Feasting Aftermath

Holiday Mischief

Brahmin Tipping

Stolen Pants

Pet Dress-up

Mistletoe Mishaps

Someone is kissing Santa

CUI [Caroling under the Influence]

Holiday drinks

Holiday drunks

Is that supposed to be glowing

Candlelight and Snow

First Snow

Noob in a Snowball Fight

Soaked Through and Freezing

Snowed in

Antlers

Pinecones

Fire and Ice

Tropical Transplant

Ringing in the New Year

To New Beginnings

Celebratory Toast

Watching the Clock

Fireworks

Reinvention

Hokay! So you’ve gotten this far-- you know WHO you wanna request for, WHAT you wanna request, you’ve picked something from the PROMPT LIST, and you’re ready to SEND IT IN!

... So what happens after you send your request?

The mods on this blog will add it to our list, and answer your ask PRIVATELY to confirm your request has been added. At the time of the confirmation, we may ask for additional OC reference information, if an OC was requested, or request clarification on relationship context between the requested characters if more than one character was requested. Be ready to correspond with us, and have reference material ready for OCs!

Once your request is confirmed, you’re all done! The rest is up to us. Finished requests will be posted on New Years Day, @ tagging the gift recipient and no one else, leaving the requester entirely anonymous.

Thank you so much if you choose to participate. The request window is open until December 25th. We’ll be working hard until the very last day.

We wish you all a happy holiday, whatever you celebrate, and a happy New Year!

#Sketchy Secret Santa #Fallout Sketchy Secret Santa #Prompt Post #HOLIDAY PROMPT POST

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bornofbloodandwater · 3 years ago

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Pros and Cons of Dating my Muse

Name: Xiomara Aurelius Athanas

Race: Siren / Greek

Sexuality: Bisexual Biromantic (but uh...well you’ll see)

-List all the Pros and Cons of a relationship with your Muse below-

XIO IS DATING YOUR MUSE BUT IT IS MY GOBLIN CHILD AND SHE LOVES NOBODY UNTIL SHE’S BASICALLY MARRIED TO THEM. DO NOT ENTER EXPECTING REALLY ENCOURAGING PROS, THIS WAS HARDER THAN IT LOOKS TO COME UP WITH GOOD REASONS TO DATE XIOMARA.

Pros

1. Thoughtful of your emotions and needs, Xiomara can be very attentive. Paying extremely close attention to what makes you shine for her. Ignoring the fact that this is because she is being her temptress self, she gets joy out of creating such wonderful highs for others. You’ll feel like you are on a pedestal being lavished by a Goddess, but are you there because she wants you? Or because she wants to revel in her power over something beautiful? (If she truly cares about you she’ll let you read what SHE needs and let you see her in true moments of joy and pain.)

2. Xiomara is a fairly peaceful person in her downtime and very comforting to be around! If you’re permitted to be around her when she’s at home (which, her lengthier flings are) you’ll find a very serene life. Breakfast in the warming morning sun with a book in hand, trips to markets to sell what she grows in her gardens, yoga, naps, making bread and pastries, all between her adoring you, embracing you, pleasing you.

3. Extremely loyal, she’ll stand for you against anything. No stranger to slinging a cheeky quip at creeps any more than she is to tearing them apart, and she’ll do it all for you. Her loyalty extends even to more arbitrary relationships, while you’re around at least. If you have her undying loyalty even after an absence, you’re something special, she’s not forgotten you, she cares.

4. Xio wants to bring you around the world with her, take you on adventures, treat you to the best experiences life has to offer. She likes to keep those she enjoys the company of very close. So if you’ve ever wanted to see the world in all its glory for free, you’ve landed the right Murderous Sea Idiot.

5. Large breasts. That is all. (Yes I am struggling more with Pros than I am with Cons.) As a serious answer, she’s not quick to panic, she is level-headed, intuitive, discerning. If you are panicked or afraid or stressed about something she’ll come up with solutions to help with calm words and a controlled manner. It is very soothing if you find yourself in trouble fairly often or are an anxious person!

6. Xio is an unbelievably good cook and she WANTS to cook for you. There is no sense of obligation in her offering to treat you to anything you want. In fact, if she really cares about you (everything she does has a little bit of backwardness to it) she’ll make you whatever SHE wants. It is a sign that she isn’t trying to charm you, she’s not putting on the show and the flash to distract you from who she is.

7. Due to the society in which Xiomara was raised, she is extremely open-minded. She won’t be phased by any expression of gender, identity, preferences, any combination or presentation of any of those facets. You are a person to her in the end, she wants your experience, your energy, your desires. She wants to see you happy and thriving. She’s far weirder than most and loves embracing everything that makes someone just a little different. If she’s unfamiliar or wants more clarity she will ask if it is alright to ask questions and respect any answer you give her. Some mystery is certainly not the worst, in fact, she respects secrets and the unexplained. After all, she has many secrets herself. Yes, this open mind does extend to kinks 👀

(Her questions would mostly be boundary related, can’t see her being surprised or unaware of expressions of identity.)

8. This is for the dominants, because LUCKY YOU you’ve just stumbled across the subbiest creature in the universe. She is obedient, passionate, insatiable and an absolute tease. You’re also the more likely group to actually get her to enjoy your company as more than just a fling. In the end, Xio needs the control and the care, the relationship dynamics that typically come with a dominant partner.

Much like a tiger doing tricks, if she senses weakness she WILL take over or cease to follow your instruction. Power-bottom? Or situational switch? That depends quite how spectacularly you fail to take control.

9. So, you’re a bit of a brat! Or very specifically, an over-confident man/masc who won’t shut his mouth unless she chokes him? Hope your aim was to be brought to tears being edged out of your mind because Xio’s a total soft-dom. She’s not going to give you tons of bruises or make you sleep on the floor, no, Xio is going to tell you to be good for her, keep your hands behind your back, make as much noise for her as you want while she brings you to the edge over and over.

However, she isn’t someone who seeks a relationship in which she is in constant control. You’re less likely to have her become truly attached if you take a more subservient role outside of the bedroom.

10. Xiomara believes in soulmates. Even though I don’t write them as being real, she just believes in them. These are the possible pros of her belief. If your muse understands Xio and SEES her? Theres a high chance (seeing as they’re dating in this scenario) she’ll start to view you as The One. You have to know her for everything she is and for most people that will stop at trying to understand her cruelty, her prolonged suffering, her difficulty accepting love.

Bonus 11. So, you’re a bit of a monsterfucker ay? Even just a little bit? You can always go swimming with your hot sea-demon girlfriend, just a thought. Let her tease you endlessly about being a terrible swimmer, wrap her tail around you like a constrictor and cover you in kisses and bites. Y’know if you’re into that (we all know we are).

Cons

1. She doesn’t love you. It is nothing personal, but she needs full and complete acceptance and understanding. Usually in the form of someone who celebrates her, all of her, even her cruelty. That is quite a lot to ask of anyone; to love a monster. Something I will not diminish for her.

2. She kills people for money. I feel like that is a Con in most cases. Coming home covered in someone’s blood, probably leaving the bathroom splattered with red, occasionally returning to you half-dead and climbing into bed in that state. One might say that could be just a little traumatising.

3. Speaking of blood. You wanna deal with non-verbal BLOODLUST Xio? Because I sure don’t. Unable to communicate with you when she storms into her home hopped up on murder-adrenaline. Terrifying and with the ever-present possibility of killing you if you’re not very close with her? Having to calm her down? Being threatened by someone who softly kisses you awake? I don’t wish that emotional whiplash on anyone.

4. She’s stubborn as all hell. If she truly wants/needs something and you try to stand in her way you are as disposable as off-meat. She is not giving up. She has a long life to live, and no intentions of wasting it pandering to the concerns and morals of others. She’ll only be told no for so long before she moves on. (Just to clarify this is not about her wanting things from your muse this is about her wanting things in life or needing to do things and your muse disliking/attempting to stop her in any way)

5. She may have big boobs but that’s...kinda where the softness stops. Very bony, muscular, very little fat, not that much fun to cuddle unless your ideal cuddle partner is a tiny, bony, serpentine lady who screams in the night... speaking of-

6. NIGHT TERRORS. Oh yeah, enjoy that on a regular basis. Xio’s insomnia is your insomnia now! Hope you’re a heavy sleeper, but even then, occasionally being woken with a hand around your neck can’t be good for your nerves. The possible exception to this Con being the premonition-like nature of her sister’s appearances in her life, if Xio feels like she’s doing something very right (like being with you) they’ll die down. Xio can’t discern whether this is just reduced stress and having a confidant, or if her sister is watching over her and giving her insights on how to best live her life. She tends to lean toward the latter, so yet another Con for you is that she might toss you to the kerb if those nightmares get worse. Don’t you just love bonus Cons...

7. Xio can be a bit of a hypocrite. She can dish it out but she can’t take it. She will excitedly enter into volleying little quips, insults, banter, sarcasm, but as soon as she’s sat across from someone who can throw it right back she can get frustrated quite quickly. Xio knows full and well she doesn’t deal with her problems how she should, she doesn’t need to be told so.

8. Not sure if this is a Pro or a Con to be quite honest but Xiomara, and Sirens in general, are not very fertile outside of their own race. If your muse wants kids there will be considerable difficulty there. Xio doesn’t actually ever consider having children but might consider it if she had another long-lived partner. However, secret pro if your muse doesn’t want kids, I guess!

9. Xio will keep things carnal for the most part. She can be whisking you off around the world, treating you to beautiful things and making you feel comforted and cared for, but all she is able to pursue is sex. It keeps her participation in these relationships shallow. It is only in the back of her mind that she seeks love, however, she isn’t actually certain as to how that is displayed or what it means to her because she has never let someone love her.

10. Xiomara believes in soulmates. Which means if you aren’t everything you’re nothing. Something fun to toy with while she waits for the real deal. Bless you if you tell her you love her, you’ll get a flat, disinterested stare in response with maybe an “I’m sorry to hear that.” or “How unfortunate.” It is something that will end her relationship with you, especially if she knows you aren’t the one. While it is a mercy that she will not lie to you or lead you on, it is cruel that she lets people get so close to her when she is so removed.

Bonus 11. If this bitch falls in love with you you’re locked in. You’re basically married. She’s immortal and chaotic and would probably kill you if you tried to abandon her...proceed courting her with extreme caution.

Tagged by: @magioffire

I want you to know there is no pressure this took me three days to complete. ‘Tis a long one. Tagging: @derobergeist (you know who we all want to seeeee, give us the Stabby Doctor), @suresaint, @mettleborn (give me Igorrr), @sunbentsky (Oles or Villen?), @fourmarksmage

#;I feel like a person for a moment of my life (headcanon)

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sainadazai · 3 years ago

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When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.4

I wanna be an intern too, you ragedy ann looking ass hoe 😠

Y/n pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

All goes well when you are ignorant is what my dear best friend would say to me now, as I sit in the very back of the class unfocused on how our teacher is introducing an activity I have no chance of participating in. All I knew was that when Mr. Aizawa walked up to the board and wrote names of people getting offers, I wasn't one of them. Not that I expected to be, considering I wasn't in the sports festival, let alone the school at all back then.

However, I did notice a small inconsistency in the order of the most offers. I was pretty sure that boom boom had gotten first place in the festival, him being there is what convinced me to transfer, but his name was actually second on the board.

Todoroki had taken the place of first as far as offers were concerned. Todoroki the nice boy who I used to meet when I snuck away from my fucking prison cell. Call me privileged for complaining about living in a mansion All my life, but I much prefer being here. With common folk. They ground me.

I peeked up from my phone at the red and white head of hair in front of me, he didn't seem all that fazed. Although maybe it was just the lack of seeing his face that made me believe he couldn't care less about all but one of those offers. Still, his business is his, and my business is the new Ao3 update on my favorite chrollo lucilfer fanfiction. What a babe.

I decided that the class as of right now would be of no importance to me, considering I will have no offers, and bakugou-the reason I came here- hates me like I'm a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. Through that conclusion I allowed myself to dissolve into the world of hxh and forget about how boring this world is.

Could my power beat Killua or go in a fight? I mean, it doesn't enhance my strength like they did trying to get into Killua's house so physically they must be stronger.

"Y/n! Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

Mr.Aizawas voice seemed almost shot at me as my gaze rose from my phone in my lap to meet him at the front of the room. He looked displeased to say the least. Well good for him, im displeased too, I might not be able to beat a fucking twelve year old in combat.

"Huh?"

"You were grumbling, what's so important you had to tell us, hm?"

I thought it through for a second- just kidding, I never think anything through.

"Oh, well I wasn't sure if I could beat Gon in a fight, but I'm not coming to the realization that if Chrollo is my boyfriend, I shouldn't have to fight anyone at all. I can just be a pretty face in the backgrounds and then after he wins for me i'll suck his-"

"Enough, y/n." Mr.Aizawa no longer held a tired looking face, his eyes were wide and an uncomfortable cringed was set on his face. As I peered at the rest of the class many also had shocked eyes, but unlike our teacher, held faint blushes.

Minus midoriya, his face was completely red and his eyes void of life. I must've killed him, huh.

"Wait!"

In an attempt to regain some dignity, I tried to correct myself.

"I would....not suck his-?"

"Don't even say it, shitty princess !"

"Woah bakugou, you spoke to me on purpose!?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey, how come you call me princess, you like me or something?"

He growled at that, neither of us paying mind to the fact that everyone in the class was either dead from nosebleeds or extremely uncomfortable and staring at us.

"Its cuz you act fucking entitled like a princess"

"I'll be your pillow princes-"

"Enough!" A robotic-like hand sliced the air in front of me. The voice sounded firm, almost more teacher-like than our teacher's voice. I followed my gaze up the hand, not failing to notice how as I drew up the guy's arm his muscles only seemed to get bigger and bigger and- iida?

"Oh class rep-"

"Y/n this vulgar language and border-line harassment needs to cease immediately. I will not tolerante overtly sexual language and acts in this class-"

As he was speaking I noticed something ironic about the situation. If everyone here didn't like sexual jokes or banter, how were they so flustered at comments that objectively should be unknown to them.

"How did you know what I meant, iida?" I rasped in a low sultry voice, allowing my fingers to dance up his arm starting at the wrist in front of my face.

I heard a few chuckles from, who I would say are the only two people enjoying this situation: kaminari and...stinky mineta. Iida's face grew more red than previously and the arms in front of me began shaking.

"Mr.Aizawa it seems I've disarmed the robot. Is there a restart button or something?" I question with a serious face using the search as an excuse to wonder my eyes all over his body. Perverted? Yes. Rightfully attracted to this giant hunk of a nerd. Yes ×10.

"No, there is not." Todoroki, who was in front of me, finally turned around to address me. I guess he was unfazed by my words. Looks like someone here can be cool. Whether he is okay because he is more comfortable with sexual jokes, or because he has yet to pick up on them, its nice that somebody in here can still function. Otherwise, I'd feel like a nuisance.

"Y/n I'm not really sure how to- let's just say to have detention with your m- midnight. Detention. Yeah." Aizawa publicly convinced himself of my punishment?

"Okay"

"Now, back to this, even if you didn't get any offers ALL of you will have an internship"

And so went on the class, kids chose their hero names, not me though. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a hero at all, this was just a little less boring and sad than the way I lived before. This school had people who laughed in joy, not just to mask the pain. That was the real benefit, not being a hero, or being strong. Likely no one here realized that there were many places where none of this joy was possible.

Some of the kids in class gave me suggestions for a hero name, but I didn't like them anyway. They lacked personality, and while I have many adjectives to describe my personality, my life, none of them are all that heroic.

"Dark element"

"Girl who will die if her quirk doesnt like its environment"

See, I'm not the best at this. Even bakugan names had some sense to it...well no. I'd say we're about the same, but still. Ugh.

~timeskip~

Bakugou pov 😠

She came up with no hero names. Fucking entitled brat. Everyone at this lunch table seems to have no problem with the fact that she is here, just happy to have another pair of tits to stare at like perverts. Their gross. I bet she doesn't even want to be a hero, she sure as hell doesn't act like it. We don't even know what her whole quirk is. Ive seen her do that plant shit a couple times, fucking with flowers or whatever. Still, there's more to it. Something we don't know, at least. Cuz in the middle of class she gets up and whispers to Aizawa and he just lets her go. Where the fuck does she go?

Interrupts class, got into the school because her moms a teacher, won't use her quirk. What a nuisance, I can't believe she is not expelled yet. Plus those bullshit sex jokes are so shitty. She is obviously faking something when she does them. Not like midnight, who always at least seems like she means that gross shit.

"Hey, who did you guys choose for your internship? I haven't chosen yet."

"The number three hero guy," I spoke, knowing I'm the only person here who already chose.

"Really? Best jeanist! That's so cool, but are you sure that for you bakugou?" Shitty hair raised a shitty brow at me.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

"Just that he seems pretty...uptight..for you?" Dunceface added, but he spoke like it was a question. Of course he is the hero for me, he is the highest ranting hero on my list. If I wanna be number one, I gotta train with the best.

If I go to his agency I'm sure there will be a lot more action, since he is so high ranking. Then i'll get some real experience kicking villain ass, well, other than the USJ.

"Of course he is the right option!"

"Woahhh~"

Shit. It's her voice. I honestly should applaud her for using it less often around me but, how can one small girl be so goddamn annoying. I don't even know what she has to say and I already wish she would just put a sock in it. How can someone so entitled like her, probably never had to lift a finger, walk over here and talk like she has something to say.

"You're working with the best jeanist! So cool, one time he saved me from a group of rapist guys, it was awesome with all these strings everywhere and I could only see half of his face. Oh and he had goofy hair too!"

Oh. I didn't really know how to respond to the girl who looked so excited about almost being violated. Another thing wrong with her? I looked back at the other people at the table to see if they knew how to respond to something like that.

Dunceface was frozen, tape arms were frozen, shitty hair was frozen, and alíen eyes were looking like a lost puppy and trying not to cry.

It didnt seem like the shutty princess was exactly understanding how what she just yelled was making things weird. She just stood there expectantly. She kinda looked like she thought being raped was something that must happen to everyone. Did she think that? Wouldn't put it past her weird ass.

"Uhm...anyways, i'm sure you'll do awesome, he likes to put boys in tight jeans. Wish I could intern too, I'd love to see that boom boom~" she winked.

A perverted joke...and then she had the audacity to wink at me.

"You wish you could see me in tight jeans, shitty extra!"

"I know...thats what a I just said." She dead panned, blinking a couple times at me.

"Tch, screw you!"

"I would-"

"Can it, i don't wanna hear your shitty voice anymore"

The girl stopped herself after my words, pushing all her hair behind her head, except for the two blond stands in the front.

(You don't have to acknowledge these if you don't want, but I made it so that they change color depending on what element your using and I thought it was hot*if you have short hair, then you just got a lil nishinoya type thing 🥰)

Lifted her obnoxious hands that moved around while she talked and made a zipper-like motion over her lips. Then she just stood there looking at me. I really wanted to just let her stand there and go back to eating. Ignore her completely and let her hope fizzle out and die or something like that.

Yet here I am, still looking at her. Silently. Wishing she made a stupid joke so that I could stop flickering between those images I'd seen of her dancing. How even though ballet is a princess fucking dance, the pictures felt nice. Like if I was watching it live I would probably be unable to criticize it. That pissed me off, because I want to hate everything about her, but I can't hate those photos. Where she looks like she is flying, without any need for a quirk.

I see her in that weird gown, and now, in the UA uniform. I see her looking respectable, formal, and serious. Then I see her stupid little smirk as she takes pride in being able to shut up for more than a minute.

"Why are you still standing there?"

Instead of answering, she took her hand up again, made a pinch with her fingers and unzipped her mouth.

"I was enjoying the look in your eyes."she smiled.

The look in my eyes? Could she tell I was seeing two different people? What the hell does that even mean? Even said it without that shitty flirt voice. Like she meant it.

"You tryna make fun of me?"I stood up from the table to get in her face.

"Not right now, maybe later, I gotta do something." She smiled sincerely at me, for a second as she walked away, I forgot about how this conversation started. What a wierd fucking girl. I'll never respect her as a hero. Tch. (Yes, its canon he tchs even in his thoughts)

3rd person POV

Y/n briskly walked out of the cafeteria with a new goal in mind. She would come to remember how maybe being oblivious was a benefit in some ways, but for now, she had a clear plan .

"Mr.Aizawa, let me do an internship."

"You weren't in the festival, I can't just hand you to a hero who has no idea what you can do, y/n."

"Well, you know what I can do, right?"

"No. I'm not doing internships. Stop asking."

"That's not what I meant! You can just tell them, or I could, it's not that hard to explain. Just say i'm all- powerful or some play on words like 'she's got all the right elements' hehe, see how i mimicked your voice there?" Y/n grinned like a child. She was proud of herself.

"No. Still not happening."

"I wanna be an intern too, you raggedy ann looking ass hoe"

"Y/n, it doesn't make sense, insulting me to get what you want?"

"Maybe it doesn't, but I bet you feel real insecure about your hair right now."

"You already have detention, what more do you want!"

"An internship, I wanna do one with kamui Woods, I have a good reason, too. As far as my quirk control, i'm the weakest with earth, the aspect that allows me to grow and manipulate plants and stuff. That's why I've only been using that part of it all month. Im trying to get her up to speed so I can start using all four at once. He is like a tres guy, right? He manipulates earth all day long. He could teach me a lot, and that aspect of my quirk would suit his well. Please!?!?!?"

If the girl had just asked again in a normal way, his answer would have been the same. However Aizawa was taken aback to hear how much thought she put into this. From the stories of the teachers lounge, he came to understand her big life goal, was to rely fully on a rich man or woman, and do nothing at all forever. Just to try and forget about the terrible life she was destined to have because of that quirk.

This side of her was something he could not even her mother had seen, and it prompted him to speak those words she wanted to hear so badly.

"Fine."

#bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakusquad #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #mha fanfiction #mha fluff

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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The Jeffersons: Sorry, Wrong Meeting (Comission by WeirdKev27) (Black History Month)

Welcome on up! HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH! Yup i’m going to spend a good chunk of the month celebrating the best and brightest in black characters in animation, amid valentine’s coverage in the first half and a few bits of the usual stuff throughout. But i’m still throughly dedicated to showing off some of the finest media about black struggles and starring black characters, and going through it the best I can as a white dumbass. If I slip up or misinterpret something, never be afraid to call me on it, but I feel I can still try my best to honor these amazing characters who’ve brought such joy to my life and these wonderful stories. So starting us off is a commission from Kev that’s been sitting in the queue for far too long. And it’s not due to lack of intrest: While before today I’d never seen an episode of the Jeffersons, I had seen the live performance of an episode done for that live with norman lear thing nbc did in 2019, and it was excellent and piqued my intrest. But with me never thinking to get the dvd’s, and not having Starz nor really wanting starz, there was no real easy way to stream it. But a few episodes were on DailyMotion, so I was fine with reviewing it for Kev and giving this series an honest try and the fact the episode dealt with white supremacy, at a time where we’d JUST gotten rid of a bigoted, white nationalist backing, piece of shit president, I was naturally all for it, I just never thought to clear space on my schedule and by the time I was scheduling things better, I purposfully saved it for this month as while the Klan isn’t as prominent, assholes like them sure are. And given the Captial Riots last month with sedionsits shitheads proudly waving the confederate flag around, I’d say this episode is even MORE relevant than ever.

But before we can dive into why this one is so good, yeah i’m not going to hide it this is a really fantastic episode of television, we have to talk about the series itself. The Jeffersons was created by Norman Lear, a progressive and prolific television writer and producer who is a legend in the business for damn good reason. He created All in the Family, which shattered norms and standards for the time, and would go on to create Sanford and Son, Maude and Good Times, all to massive sucess. However this show came about because the Black Panthers showed up one day at his office to raise a valid point: While he did have black characters in his tv shows they were mostly poor and barely scraping by, with his two black lead sitcoms dealing with characters in object poverty. And while this was still a worthy subject to tackle.. they were absolutely right there should be a counterbalance to that, to show the obvious truth black people CAN be successful. Norman agreed and set to work. Norman already had the perfect lead for that: George Jefferson, an opinnated dry-cleaner with several sucessful stores. George was, and still is, a fascenating character with lairs: being cranky and curmodgenly as you’d expect with some fairly average sitcom quirks: He loves money, often overspends on flashy stuff to revel in his sucess, snarks at his maid and likes to scheme as a sitcom character can. He’s also in the early seasons a bigot himself, not really fond of white people or interacial marraige, which naturally makes living next to an interacial couple and their daughter marrying his son thorns in his side. But as far as I can tell from looking on wikipedia he does soften with time and grow as a person and by this episode he’s fine putting up with both his neighbor Tom, said guy married to a black woman and his goofy british neighbor, if snarky as hell because hey, that’s who he is. I bring this up for reasons related to the climax, trust me.

So eventually the Jefferson's moved on up to that deluxe apartment in the sky, hell of a theme song, and got into their own adventures with the aforementioned supporting characters.. and so here we are. And after the cut we’ll take a look at just why this sitcom is awesome, why I desperately want to get some dvds for it at some point now or a starz trial, and how much the klan sucks.

We open at the Jefferson’s Deluxe Apartment in the Sky. where his wife Wheezy and aforementioned maid Florence are preparing to take a CPR class.. which were that possible I certainly would after this episode, as I feel Florence is right in stating it’s a skill everyone should have. She also remarks that George had every employee at his drycleaners take it, even if it was because he got an insurance writeoff. But hey, doing something that can help your workers and customers in an emergency even if i’ts just to save money is sitll better than MOST businesses these days so props to him. There’s also naturally some banter and it’s really damn funny. As with my Darkwing Duck reviews,, I won’t be going into it bit by bit, but it’s good stuff and holds up REALLY well. To me that’s the mark of a good sitcom, one that can show it’s age.. but still make you laugh, think or cry all the same. So yeah in less than a scene the show had won me over. So as the ladies depart for CPR class, George’s peace is soon interupted by Harry Bently, british person and wacky neighbor. Aka me if I were british and lived in the 70′s. He returns a tv guide, last weeks hence why he’s done with it, and ther’es some schtick and what not before Tom Willis runs in, upset because he’s been robbed. They took all his stuff, and while he’s thankfull his wife’s gone for the week so she didn’t have to be there for this, he’s obviously worried and suggests forming a building watch to prevent this, with Harry on board. George.. has no time for this nonsense, and after making a joke about Florence in curlers scaring them of, bredguringly agrees to attend if someone else starts it then slams the door on them once their out the door. At CPR, our heroines volunteer enthusastically and meet the cpr dummy. resuscannie.. I don’t know how to spell that and frankly I don’t wanna because she is FUCKING terrifying.

She looks like she’s going to come to life and strangle me. She looks like a hollowed out corpse doll a serial killer makes. She looks like something Charles lee ray would rnasfer into. She looks like Micheal Meyers grandmother. She looks like the corpse of Jason’s mom come back for revenge. She looks like sue sylvester transferred herself into an auton. Look I could go on, but the series does make jabs at the thing and most cpr dummies are objectively terrifying, so fair play to them. After some more gags, things.. take a turn. Part of what makes this episode so effective to me is this turn. It starts with, and even goes back to after this for a bit, some sitcom gags and cliches.. but it lulls you into thinking this will be an average episode... so when the instuctor asks two men to go next, an older man and his college age looking son refuse to participate.. and their reason is he refuses to touch anything tha’ts been touched by a ... well he uses a certain word and let’s just say you know what it is, I know what it it is and if I could’ve reached inside my computer and choked the life out of hte man, I fucking would’ve.

Yeah turns out these two are KKK, with the older asshole leading the local chapter and their about as reasonable or likeable as you’d expect with Wheezy BARELY holding Florence back from giving them a well deserved thrashing, and only doing so because it’d both sink to their level and because they’d just use it as more fuel for their racist bullshit. And that’s WHY this works so well: It seems excactly like a normal episode.. until it suddenly isn’t. Until suddenly things are a lot darker, a lot more tense, but the easing into it means it still feels like the same unvierse. To me the good “very special episodes”, are the ones that use this: that ease into the heavy topic before punching you in the face with it and tackle it with nuance and skill. A Diffrent World has a TON of episodes like this, and it’s why it’s one of my faviorite sitcoms: it tackles a lot of really heavy topics with a steady brush and while it can be heavy handed, sometimes heavy hands are necesary to carry a heavy topic. The racists showing up suddenly also fits because Racists hide in plain sight. You don’t know someone you know is prejudice or some stranger is till they reveal themselves. They could show up any time anywhere and you can’t be ready. And I cant possibly claim to know what that’s like, but I’m sad that in this nation of ours this shit has never, and probably will never go away. So it fits that our antagonist shows up out of nowhere, having until now perfectly blended in with the other suited white guys in the class. Naturally, the instructor orders them to fucking leave and naturally klan monster makes some big white suprimacist speil. And being a sitcom he runs into Tom, with Tom mistaking him for talking abotu the crime and White Supremacist mistaking Tom for a fellow racist. Tom decides to invite george.. and while it’s clumsily framed as a wacky sitcom misunderstanding.. it’s very clear things just got VERY dangerous.

Speaking of George he’s awoken from his nap by the ladies who are both still worried and while he goes into his usual digs on florence, and questions why she needs her bat... he instnatly sides with her and prepares to go kick some racist ass once he finds out what happened. It’s a nice shift, as it once again breaks the tranquil normalcy of this sitcom with the violence of racisim. And while there was no phsyical violence form the asshole.. to me racisim itself is still a form of violence. Thinking you are suprerior to another race just because your skin’s a diffrent color and wanting them gone or not to be near you is in itself violent to me. And while Wheezy again has good reason for holding George back, tihs is just what the fuckers want, Geroge is also right: right NOW it’s talk.. but how long before they start burning stuff on thier balcony or come for htem in the night? there’s.. no easy answer her, no easy solution.. just a man fearing for his life justifably whose probably been through this time, and time, and time again, dealt with his buisnesses being vandalized and his life being threatend and probably been beaten some too JUST for being a black business owner. So it’s understandable he’s fucking fed up and just wants them gone. Tom naturally invites him to the meeting., and harry agrees, botht hinking i’ts just a floor meeting and not a disguised KKK Rally.

So at the meeting, the KKK Fuck does his spiela nd tries to assure them that “what you’ve heard about us is wrong”. And again this si part of what makes the episode resonate: guys like this try to make themselves seem resonable. THat “Their not racist” their the right ones and your wrong for wanting equality. It’s why these movements gain traction, they tap into people’s inner ugliness and disastifaction with life and give them an easy target for it. It’s what the president did for four years, i’ts what his sycophants at fox news CONTINUE to do: try and present being a racist, homophobic, xenophobic peace of shit as a viable and stable option when all it makes you is a racist , a coward and a dinosaur who can’t accept change or things difffrent than you. When this guy eventually goes into a rant, as George showing up triggers it and Tom and Harry dont’ take his shit for as econd, with tom proudly mentioning his black wife, and both holding George back for the same reasons Wheezy did with Florence, he talks abotu them “taking our property and destroying our homes”.. and it all sounds EERILY like when Tucker Carlson went on about property damage during the black lives matter protests last year... and as a wise tucan in a suit once said, fuck you tucker. And as John didn’t say but I certainly will, I Hope you choke on your own spray tan you racist seditionist prick. My point is this sort of rhetoric, trying to frame black people as the enemy.. never fucking went away and is on cable news every night. It was in our white house for four long years. It won’t go away and probably never will and everyone of every race has to be on guard to find these pricks and make sure their message is drowned out with love. And that’s what makes this whole thing relevant: that these pricks hide in plain sight and mask their arugments with civlities.. but at the end of day are just hateful monsters who just want a scapegoat for their problems or even may just hate because it’s easy, or because they just wnat to and don’t need an excuse to be the worst human garbage imaginable.

It makes what happens next all the better: Asshole has a heart attack, HORAY, and no one knows CPR since the kid walked out on the class with his dad before they actually learned it. George relucntantly sighs.. and knows what he has to do. He goes and saves the fuckers life. And that, friends, is why I brought up George’s racist past and i’m glad I knew about it giong in: because it shows how far he’s come. From hating white people.. to saving the WORST of the WORST of white people. He regrets it of course, saying the guy should’ve died, and that he won’t be greatful and he’ll just keep on hating.. but his friends point out the truth: George was the bigger man. He saved the life of a man who hated him just for existing and who’d gladly have him lynched if he could and was trying to run him out of his rightful place in the building, because it was the right thing to do. Because that fucker sure as hell wouldn’t. Because despite being a monster.. it’s still a life.. and he can waste it however he pleases.. but he’ll now ALWAYS know a black man saved it. George may regret his decison.. in the dark, where no body would blame him for letting the fucker die or even know he could’ve saved him until he got home, and his wife would’ve barely blamed him, he still choose to save the worst of humanity proving depsite his curmodgnley nature, he’s some of the best of it. It dosen’t change the asshole, he leaves on a gurney telling his son “You should’ve let me die”. George is unsuprised and leaves with his friends. And I do like this: the racist dosen’t MAGICALLY change because he’s saved by a black man, he’s still a fucking monster. And that is what sets him apart from George: Whiel George was a bigot, he not only never went as far as this monster, but he changed. He learned to let go of his hate as it was eating him alive, and while he certailnly and rightfully won’t let go of his resintment for white people, he’s accepted he can’t hate ALL of them for what some did to him. This asshole has no such excuse and no such growth, he probably died being the same miserable piece of shit he was , resenting forever a black man saved him. And that’s hwo it should end.. youc an’t save everyone and you can’t change a person that dosen’t want to. George changed only because he wanted to and he realized he was wrong evne if he’s loath to admit it. This guy wont’ and never will becuse some racist pieces of shit just will never accept the truth that all people were created equal.

His son though clearly has, thanking George before he leaves, and later as the rest of the meeting, realizing what these people are and what they plan on, leave as the assholes right hand man tries to continue said son refuses to acknowlegde him rips up the poster and leaves. See the old man not changing worked.. but so too does this.. showing some simply dont’ know better and some CAN change.. but like George.. they have to WANT to change. Only you can change you. And hopefully it’s for hte better.

This episode was excellent as i’ve made clear, and I don’t have honestly much to add to it. It was a pleasure and black lives matter.

#the jeffersons #george jefferson #wheezy jefferson #black lives matter #black history month #norman lear

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se0kie · 5 years ago

Text

love me— myg (m)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, mild angst (if you squint), smut

undergroundrapper!yoongi, established relationship, boyfriend!yoongi

warnings: description of insecurity, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it baybees), fingering, blowjob, light nipple play, really really soft fucking

based on love by kendrick lamar feat. zacari

summary: shaken by betrayal and riddled with insecurity yoongi questions whether you deserve to be with someone like him. it’s time you showed him how much he truly meant to you.

you had gone looking for yoongi after he had stormed out of the underground rap club and into the alley beside the building. what was supposed to be a night of excitement and hushed expectations had swiftly taken a turn and become one of the biggest shocks you or your boyfriend had ever experienced.

yoongi was an underground rapper, he also wrote songs that he would sometimes sell to people he deemed worthy. every friday he would go to the local underground rap club with his rapper friends namjoon and hoseok, sometimes to take part in the head to head battles and earn a little cash but mostly just to chill. it was rumoured that this friday there would be talent scouts in the crowd looking to sign a new rapper to one of their esteemed artist management agencies. yoongi hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it so he kept it hushed but told you to accompany him on this particular evening. he was to participate in a freestyle rap battle with one of the house favourites to hopefully convince the scouts present to sign him.

you had faith in yoongi. not only was he a lyrical genius but he also had immaculate flow and could rap at the speed of lightning. you knew your boyfriend would demolish whichever poor sod that was stupid enough to challenge him. you obviously agreed to go and show support. but what happened at the club was something you would never have dreamt of in a hundred years.

yoongi had been challenged, his opponent standing across from him red cheeked listening to yoongi diss the life out him. but as soon as yoongi finished and the other boy started his rhymes you could exactly see the shock on your boyfriend’s face. his lips had parted slightly and his face seemed like he had been slapped right across it. the boy finished and it was yoongi’s turn again but to your horror he said absolutely nothing. he stood there for a few seconds staring at his challenger and then as if suddenly realising that he had an audience yoongi looked across the crowd, latched his gaze at you and then chillingly at namjoon who was standing right next to you. his expression was something you would never forget, it was a look of absolute disappointment and fury. if you had the mind to look at your friend beside you, you would've probably noticed the look of immense guilt on his face but your priority right then was yoongi who had proceeded to shove past you and your group of friends and right out the exit of the club. namjoon had promptly left right after him, presumably to follow him and explain himself.

you had yet to understand what had exactly taken place. you turned to hoseok with confusion written all over you and questioned him, “what the hell was that about hobi?” hoseok had an uncannily similar expression as yoongi’s. he answered slowly as if trying to calm himself, “Y/N the guy going against yoongi, his name is younghyun. he just used yoongi’s lyrics from his upcoming song against him. it was a project me and yoongi were working on together and the only other person to know of it was namjoon.” you let out a shocked breath at hearing his words, realisation slowly settling in. namjoon had sold out his two best friends? he had been a friend of yours for years and you trusted him with your life but right now all you could feel was disgust towards the boy and pity for your dear yoongi. you decided that worrying about namjoon is not nearly as important as looking for yoongi so you muttered quickly, “I'm gonna go look for yoongi, okay hobi?” and left without waiting for an answer.

and here you were overhearing yoongi and namjoon’s loud conversation in the alley beside the club.

the voices were rather quiet but the soft breeze in the air was carrying it towards you enough for you to barely make out what they were saying.

“...how could you namjoon? I trusted you with everything, hobi trusted you with everything. how could you steal from your own best friends?”

“I'm tired of you two being in the spotlight all the time that’s why!”

you winced at the venom in the younger boy’s words. had he always felt like that? was he pretending this whole time? you were distracted from your own speculations as the voices grew in volume.

“I don’t wanna be like you, hyung. talented but jobless, in love but can’t express it. you’re always broke, hyung. I can’t live like that. you clearly don’t care about your financial situation that’s just pathetic. nobody ever even pays attention to me even thought i’m the only one out of your group that actually wants to make a name for himself. your lyrics can earn so much more for you, fame and fortune are waiting for you but you refuse to do anything about it. you live like a penniless college student and I don’t want that life for me.”

you felt as if someone had stung you. the insults heaping upon each other hurting you as if they were hurled at you directly.

“when was the last time you took Y/N out, huh? when was the last time you spent money on her, showed her what a relationship is like. when was the last time you received a paycheck?”

“namjoon please leave.” you could hear the pain in yoongi’s voice. you knew how insecure he was, you knew exactly how much he worried about not having enough money and you knew that namjoon knew too. that’s why it hurt even more to hear him say these things. namjoon huffed in the distance and you could hear his feet crunching the ground indicating that he was walking towards you. you refused to look at him and instead chose to stare at the floor instead. he stopped when he reached you for a few seconds, it seemed like he wanted to say something but eventually decided against it and left.

as soon as you were sure of his departure you half walked half jogged towards your boyfriend, when you stood in front of him you opened up your arms and your heart gave a little clench at seeing the soft tears adorning his full cheeks, his eyes glistening and lips pink and puffy. Another clench at how quickly he rushed into your open embrace and hid his face in the crook of your neck. this position was unfamiliar to you as it had always been yoongi comforting you. he was the strong one, the one who kept the both of you standing in the way of a storm. but you knew that right now out of all times yoongi needed you to be strong for the both of you, he needed you to be the pillar in your relationship this once and you would gladly do it again a hundred times, for him. you could feel his light shakes as he let himself cry in your hold, in his safe space. he let himself go in front of the one person he knew would never betray him

~~~~

you had driven yourself and yoongi back to your apartment in your old and battered car. the long silent ride exactly what yoongi needed to process everything that had happened. you had let him have his space, you knew what kind of a jolt it must have been to find out that one of your closest, most dear friend actually did not love him as you all had been led to believe.

you reached home and could finally let out a breath of relief at being in your safe space. somewhere you knew it was just you and your boyfriend and you could be alone with your thoughts. you walked into your small bedroom and pulled out a t-shirt from the little collection that yoongi always kept at your place, because of the sheer amount of time he spent in your house it only seemed practical. you handed it to him and watched him pull off his t-shirt and put on the new one. without asking, out of habit he passed you his dirty shirt. you accepted it with a small smile and discarded your day wear and pulled on the soft material. it smelled like yoongi, fabric softener, coffee and his cologne mixed with the musky scent of his sweat. you brought the neck of the shirt up to your nose and took a deep inhale, “stop that, you look like a crazed puppy.” you scowled at his words but your gaze softened almost immediately at his lighthearted demeanour. “are you feeling better, sweetie?” you couldn’t help but ask, you needed to know how he was feeling, the urge to envelop him in your arms once again and kiss every wound of his deepening by the second. yoongi gave you a small nod, a few moments of silence followed and then he started with a burst of words, “I know I probably can’t show you off to the world Y/N, i’m not good at expressing my emotions, i’ve always just relied on the fact that you would know that i love you, I won’t be able to buy you designer clothes and take you on expensive dates, you deserve it all and so so much more but I can’t give you the joys that money can buy. all I can do is love you. I will always look out for you and take care of you. Will you still be with me knowing that i can’t give you diamonds and mansions? Will you still stay by my side?”

you could feel the damned tears prickling at your ears but you couldn’t wait to tell yoongi what you thought, “I don’t care that you can’t buy me materialistic shit yoongi. I have never cared about that, but what you do give me is happiness, and my world stops every time you smile at me. you love me and I love you and that’s more than what I can ask of from the universe. i will love you even if you don’t. all i ask of you is that you trust me.” you bit your lip, all of this being way too honest and sentimental for you than you were used to but you knew that yoongi needed this confirmation. “I love you the way you are because you love me the way I am. I would rather live in rags beside you than in a mansion without you min yoongi. I love you.” you could see the emotions burning behind your boyfriend’s eyes. you closed the distance between you with a few steps and soon you had your lips on his.

the kiss started out chaste and sweet but as the frustration and pain from the happenings of the day boiled through the both of you, heat added to the negligible space between your bodies. yoongi’s hands previously on your waist had now slipped towards your ass and were cupping the fleshy cheeks. he gave one a squeeze and you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss that still connected you. his expert tongue swept across your bottom lip. silent. soft. asking for permission. you granted and opened up a little to let him slip his tongue into your mouth. your hands were at the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the soft hair that curled at the end. you were overtaken by the need to show this man how much you truly loved him. you turned yourselves around so that yoongi’s back was now facing the bed and slowly pushed at his shoulders, wordlessly asking him to lie down. you whispered, “lay back and let me love you.” yoongi smiled softly and gave you a nod. you sat down on your knees, yoongi’s thighs in between the space of your parted legs. you fumbled with the zipper of his jeans and somehow managed to get his pants entirely off. the soft glow of the moon was the only source of light and you took a few moments to appreciate the gorgeous man you had the honour to call yours. his shirt long gone and the pale smattering of fine hair on his stomach shining in the glow of the night, highlighting his toned pecs. “you look so gorgeous. my heart belongs to you, yoongi.” you bent down towards his crotch and got his boxers off, his half hard cock slowly rising at your warm touch. you fondled his pretty dark pink balls and swept at the drops of precum forming at the slit of his head.

you gave his cock a stroke and gingerly gave it a kitten lick at the top. “ungh Y/N baby please stop teasing.” yoongi moaned. you loved that about him, yoongi was never afraid of being vocal. you decided to end his suffering and took half his cock into your mouth. the feeling of the wet warmth enveloping his cock almost made yoongi cum right then and there, you were treating him so good. you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked at his dick like he was your own personal yoongi flavoured popsicle, salty and bitter and delicious. a few more sucks and you had yoongi tapping at your hand signalling you to stop. you gave him a few more licks to the pretty swollen head of his cock and finally released him from your hold. yoongi had sat up now and was at your lips attacking you with kisses, hungry to taste himself on your tongue. “lay down with your head on the pillow baby.” he was back to instructing you, the need to be close to you and pleasuring you building in his stomach. you did as he said and laid back on the bed. yoongi had come up to your chest and taken a nipple into his warm, wet mouth. the sensation causing you to arch your back. he suckled at your nipple and you could feel his hand make his way down to the waistband of your panties. you helped him take of the undergarment and swift as a cat he had his finger on your clit, giving it a tentative rub earning a string of moans from you. he teased at the outer lips of your cunt and played with the moisture gathering there. “yoongi please touch me.” you whined and whimpered for him to finally touch you the way you wanted to be touched. “patience, angel. I'll touch you, don’t you worry.” he made good on his promise and soon yoongi had two of his fingers shoved into your dripping pussy and eliciting sounds from you that would have made demons blush. he pumped your cunt with a few expert strokes, bumping against the rough, spongy spot he was more than familiar with. the outcome of years spent together. one stroke, a second, third, fourth, fifth and then suddenly he stopped. you let out another pathetically needy whimper. “why’d you do that I was just about to cum?” he lets out a chuckle and says, “I want you to cum on my cock baby. I can only go once tonight I need you around me when I do that.” you nod dejectedly and open up your legs, blunt and bold. you want his cock inside you and you will have it.

yoongi crawls over you, hands on either side of your head and cockhead positioned at your red, leaking opening, waiting to swallow his length. he bends down to your face and kisses you, disctracted by his actions you’re taken by surprise when he enters you in one swift motion. your jaw goes slack and you moan into his mouth. “mm yes oh god i feel so full yoongi. i love it when you’re inside me baby, i love you so much.” “i love you too angel, so so much you have no idea. is it okay if i move now?” you nod in assent and in a matter of seconds you’re turned into a moaning mess. yoongi’s length is pistoning in and out of your sloppy hole but as rough as he is down there that much more soft is he in your kisses. his right hand is at your breast and fondling your nipple. you’re unable of stringing together coherent sentences so all you do is moan and whimper and revel in how good yoongi is making you feel. he rolls your nipple in between his fingers and he has his mouth down to your left tit, he takes it in between his lips and swirls his tongue across the hard peak. this added sensation along with his long hard stroked at your cunt builds a string of red hot pleasure in the pit of your belly that snaps when he flicks his tongue over your stiff bud. you’re cumming, hard, and clenching around yoongi’s dick. yoongi can’t hold himself back anymore. knowing he’s made you cum he now lets go and spills his warmth deep into your pussy and slumps down onto you, holding himself up with one hand to not crush you under his weight.

you try and catch your breath after the invigorating session and you’re met with tens of sweet utterings sent to your ears. ‘i love you’s and ‘i’ll never leave you’s making their rounds. “angel you did so good, you treated me so well, i love you so much.” you blushed at his praise and replied, “i love you too sweetheart. if i don’t have you i have nothing. always remember that please.”

you snuggled into yoongi’s chest and he pulled you as close as physically possible. you had each other and you loved each other. everything else could be dealt with as long as you were in each other’s arms. that was all the comfirmation yoongi needed.

#bts writing cafe #minthlynet #yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #min yoongi #bts #bts smut #suga #suga smut #yoongi one shot #yoongi x you #se0kie

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