#THE ONLY MAN ON SCANDAL THAT'S WORTH A SHIT!

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : sometimes all it takes is a little push from a little melusine wc : 1,3k tags : fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader and wrio had an argument

“He’s in a bad mood.” “Did something happen?” “Was it an inmate?” “She left the fortress in a haste.” “Someone heard them arguing. She looked hysterical.” “Oh-oh. A fight?” “Shit, not again.”

The respect that Wriothesley earns himself stems from different kinds of people and different kinds of emotions. Some of them look up to him and his generosity while others are easily intimidated solely by his presence. Usually, the latter ones simply have not had the chance yet to get to know the Duke better. Otherwise they would realise that behind that cool and brutish exterior lies just a guy who likes order and tea. 

However, there is one specific circumstance that will have even Sigewinne lower her head when passing by his Grace’s office. 

“Do you know what they were arguing about?” The little Melusine has been asking around for a while now, looking for eyewitnesses, and writing down every piece of information as if she was solving a scandalous case. She knows very well that as rough as he may seem, Wriothesley is only human. A human madly, truly in love with none other than Fontaine’s top attorney with whom the Fortress of Meropide is in constant correspondence due to work related matters. 

Sigewinne nervously bites the top of her pen as she returns to her infirmary. The taste of plastic makes her grimace in disgust and look at the writing utensil with annoyance as if it had insulted her. She sighs.

It’s been a week since you hurried out of Wriothesley’s office, furiously stomping towards the elevator and staring down everyone and anyone who dared to cross your path. One week worth of missing documents that have not been sent in by you. One week worth of paperwork that has yet to be completed by Wriothesley. (Which is oddly ironic since that man has not left his office ever since your argument.)

Love will make the sanest person go mad, whether it’s in a good or a bad way. And so all Sigewinne can do right now is think about a way to make the both of you come back to your senses. But how? It’s not like either you or Wriothesley are at her beck and call, and will simply meet up just because she asked you so. Despite the emotional agony that you’re going through right now, you’re both way too stubborn for that.

Agony.

Unless…

~

“Where is he?!” Your voice echoes through the hall as you rush into Sigewinne’s infirmary. That was fast, she thinks. 

She almost feels a little bad when she notices the glimmer in your eyes and your laboured breathing. It’s for everyone’s sake, she reminds herself. 

“He should get here soon.” 

“B-But Neuvilette told me-” A poisoned tea. Those were the news that the Iudex had apparently received from one of the Melusines, and forwarded them to you. You don’t know all the details. You left your office as soon as you got to know that Wriothesley was currently unconscious due to a prisoner who had spiked his afternoon tea. 

Now you’re here, but he’s not and it’s making you even more agitated. “Sigewinne, where is he? Is he alright? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Y/n?” At first you feel his hands all over you before you even get to see him. Wriothesley delicately holds your head, turning it left and right before his hands move to your arms and then lower to your own hands. They’re shaking the slightest bit as he holds them up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses along your fingertips. His blood boils and he clenches his jaw at the simple thought of some low lives being the cause of your current state. 

It’s your turn to inspect him from head to toe now. His hair is a mess, all dishevelled while his pale skin makes you fear that he might just topple over any second. Your body moves before you know it, as you push him towards one of the few beds in the infirmary. “Wriothesley, shouldn’t you be in bed? When did you even wake up?” 

Wake… up? 

“Do you know if the potion will have any long term effects on you?” Despite having him right in front of you, obviously well and not on his deathbed, your heart still feels like it is about to burst from your ribcage. As soon as the news had reached you, you dropped everything. Any documents that you had to write and read through, any meetings with clients and other employees of the Palais Mermonia- 

None of them mattered anymore. All of a sudden, everything seemed so insignificant when there was the uncertainty if you’d ever be able to hear Wriothesley’s voice. Hear him sigh in tiredness before humming with the delight at the taste of his freshly brewed tea.

The simple thought of the possibility of him never waking up again, depriving you from the chance to get another glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. It was enough to get your tear ducts working and your eyes pricking as you hurried to see him as soon as possible.

“Archons, you should really lie down. You don’t look-”

Your mouth falls silent, because you can almost hear the screeching sound of the turning clockworks inside Wriothesley’s brain. It ends up worrying you even more. 

He scrutinises you, lets his gaze travel around the room only to notice that you’re alone now. Only you two. No Sigewinne. 

Sigewinne…

“You have not been attacked today, have you?” Deep blue eyes inspect your body again. Just to make sure, even though he more or less knows that all of this has to be a scheme. 

“No one robbed you? No treasure hoarders, right?” 

He watches your eyes widen, brows furrow before you shake your head. Of course. 

Why else would you believe that he’s comatose? Why else would he believe that you’ve been beaten to a pulp, and robbed off your most precious belongings? Why if not because of Sigewinne? 

“What’s wrong?” You ask cautiously, and you notice now too that one person is missing. 

And it’s only when Wriothesley explains to you that, in fact, there has never been tea nor poison, or at least not any kind of combination of those two. He has never been unconscious, and neither have you been hurt. But what did happen was that the both of you have been led on. Deceived.

And that by none other than the head nurse herself. 

“I can’t believe she pulled off something like that. You looked so awful, I actually thought you were sick.”

“Love, that’s because I was worried sick!” Wriothesley exclaims and exhales a huge breath when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms open and instinctively wrap around you, fingers digging into your hips. And it feels good. So, so good because it’s been way too many days since you’ve held each other like this. 

And, god damn, did he miss it. 

A thought crosses his mind. How your last interaction had been a silly argument. Petty remarks and poisonous words spewed at each other, induced by nothing else but your egos. 

All of it is so insignificant now that you both are in each other’s embrace, and that you’re both fine and unharmed. 

So Wriothesley promises himself to apologise to you later, inhale your scent, brush his fingers through your hair all while showing you how much the few days that you have been apart affected him. Because none of those things should be taken for granted. Because another day with you is not promised but his love for you is.

But first. You both have a bone to pick with a certain Melusine. 

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Part One

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When your family is caught up in treasonous scandal, the Prince Regent makes an offer that is impossible to refuse. To avoid what certainly would have been death by his sword, your family promises you to a man who is followed by whispers of violence and sin.

Warnings: mdni 18+! Strictly. Dark-ish ??? Aemond! Bad language, reader is implied to be from a certain family but not really, rushed & unedited. Sexual tension, allusions to sex, mentions of death and killing, Aemond gets angry handsy, hair pulling, mention of the noose bc Aemond would never tell just anyone how he feels. This is mainly a word vomit - I am once again incapable of limiting my writing to one part.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: aaand I’m back with a rewrite of an old fic I started last year! hopefully this is somewhat decent to follow along with - I wrote this while severely sleep deprived, stressed about procrastinating my uni work and knackered from work. Let me know if we are even interested in a part 2 or if I’ve missed any warnings!

It is a debt to be paid and an alliance to be made, that is all it is. 

Easy enough for them to say. After all, it was you who suffered from the mistakes of your family and not them. They may as well have left you to the dangers of King’s Landing with nothing more than a shattered dignity and the tears that trailed down your cheeks. 

Shit. Crying wasn’t going to do anything and while you never intend to present yourself as weak to anyone, there was nothing you could do to stop the angry tears that welled in your eyes. You wondered if your parents truly pained to see their daughter cry or if the tremble in your mother’s lip was nothing more than a pretence. 

Your father stared at the ground by your feet. “It was not meant to come to this.”

“But it did. Are you really going to barter me to–”

“We are not bartering you. Stop saying that,” He snapped. “All you will have to do is take the title as his wife and give him children. It cannot be that bad.”

The glare you sent his way was full of malice and rage. How could he say that? You were better than that, smarter than that and the thought of being reduced to who knows what that man had in store for you as his wife - they may as well have cut your tongue out and made you a slave. Knowing that your family, whom you loved endlessly, were so sure of selling you so easily to a cruel man like Aemond Targaryen caused a dull ache in your chest. 

It seemed hard to breathe through the betrayal, your chest heavy with deceit and heartbreak. Had you known what your father had been planning, you could have run away and found a way to survive without the comfort of your family lands. 

“What Prince Aemond has offered has saved us,” Jericho stood leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at you, his little sister who would have died before leaving him to such a fate. “I do not expect you to understand the complex relationships between our Houses but consider this, dear sister. Would you rather him have the Vale burned to ashes? Have us hung from the walls of the Red Keep? I made a mistake. I know this, and I am sorry but this is the only choice we have.”

There was a tense silence. Jericho had ruined everything with little chance of repair and it was you who had to pay the price. You knew how the Crown punished Rhaenyra’s sympathisers and Jericho had damned the future of your family. What was happening is wrong - war is never worth the price it takes. You wholeheartedly agreed with that but there was something inherently stupid about putting the people you cared about at risk just to send a raven with a conditional offer of a bent knee. 

You blinked as you tried to make sense of it all. “Explain it to me. I do not understand.”

“Aemond Targaryen is Prince Regent but I was once his only friend,” Jericho said. You knew he used the word friend strategically. “He extended an olive branch. Repent our House’s treachery through our last daughter and a pin for the Vale on King Aegon’s map. You could not understand how generous that is. Refusing would have been a sentence of death.”

Friend? Generous?  You would have laughed if you could. You briefly wondered how Jericho had managed to barter with the Prince Regent before they had taken his head. Alas, it would be of no use to ask a question you would get no answer to. The men of these walls underestimated the capabilities of a woman’s mind and a woman’s strength. 

“All he gains is something to hold over your head, brother. Paying off your mistakes with my life? You have heard the stories - he has become a cruel man. Warming his bed when he sees fit and making his heirs will not fix what you did. Many have been executed for far less.”

Your father cleared his throat. “It is our only option. We have nothing more to offer in place and a ruined reputation. The family name holds the last of our power and without what little power we have left, your brother and I would lose the Vale. It is a miracle we have not already.”

“The Prince wants to dangle you over our heads? Fine. If that is what it takes for him to spare our lives.” Jericho’s voice was so rough. It was the first time you had seen him as anything other than gentle to you and you felt a heaviness at the sight of him so distressed. 

There was not much left for you outside of the empty empire that your father’s father had built for your family. At least you still had each other and your titles, and despite the situation that they’ve forced you into, at the end of the day, you all loved each other to death. It would have been a death sentence but you could have run away instead, could have found a life for yourself somehow. But how could you live with yourself knowing that you’d damned those you love because of your pride and fear of life as a princess?

So reluctantly and tearfully, you nod your head and silently agree.

Aemond wondered whether he was making the right decision by giving Jericho a second chance. If it were anyone else, he would have had them hung without a second thought. But you and your brother were different. 

It was a moment of weakness, an inexcusable lapse in his judgment to have spared Jericho’s treason because he remembered you and to have further justified his actions by claiming the Vale through your betrothal. While it was his first and foremost motivation and Aemond was bound by duty to take advantage of the opportunity, it was not the only reason he had suggested the idea at the Small Council.

There was hardly a person in Aemond’s life whom he could call a friend. There was not a soul in this world that Aemond could truly trust, not even Jericho who had been by his side for the first parts of his childhood. 

Nor you, who had at once shown him kindness in his youth despite the mockery that was often made of him. You had only accompanied your brother and father to King’s Landing on three occasions, and what started as your soft conversation and willing smiles for him had left his memory entirely until he heard word of Jericho’s treacherous message. 

Aemond, despite your attempts at friendship, had never returned your kindness. In truth, he didn’t know how to. And quickly, your smiles had turned to frowns and your attempts at friendly talk had become sarcastic remarks and quiet scoffs.

It was also a moment of selfishness and a decision made with nothing more than foolish curiosity. You had always been there, in the back of the picture and unnoticed by everyone apart from him. There was not a person in this world who had peaked his curious desire more than you and the two of you had spent the brief occasions together bickering and pestering one another. Regardless of your initial efforts, Aemond was never your friend. While he had never actually done you wrong before now, you were never really fooled by his deceiving nonchalance and forced manners. 

The indifference that you had for each other had no cause to fade. Even less so with the recent murderous, vile stories of Aemond the Kinslayer who killed his nephew and (while most wouldn’t dare utter the words beyond certain walls) who may have crippled his own brother with Vaghar’s fire. You had almost fallen to your knees upon hearing of your betrothal to such a man.

Aemond was now twenty and three but when it came to whatever distorted plot he was planning, he felt juvenile. Your brother and your father were the perfect pawns. You were the perfect leverage - perhaps a pawn yourself. As much as he convinced himself that having you in his possession would mean he would have invaluable power over your House to do exactly as he wanted within his twisted politics while he has the power to do so, the idea of having you in the palm of his hand, in his control and eventually beneath his body was exciting. 

He was never one for meaningless entertainment. But what was the harm in indulging himself this once?

It was a formality. Being presented at King’s Landing for the first time to your future husband, his family and to those whom he currently ruled over as the woman to be his wife. 

You had changed since the last time Aemond had seen you. It had only been two years but he would never admit to his surprise at just how different you had become from the cowering young girl he remembered you to be when you were just ten and four. 

He had rushed through the formalities of greeting you and your family, welcoming you into what would come to be your home. The lunch was painfully awkward as little was said between anyone. The Dowager Queen spoke formally yet kindly with your mother and shared a few words with you but you could barely engage with her conversation under the burning gaze of the Prince Regent who sat across from you.

It was over quickly, before anyone could start bickering about the traitorous reasons behind your presence. Aemond shortly convinced his mother that no escort would be needed, so long as Ser Criston Cole was there when you both were left to acquaint yourselves in private. You gulped as you were lead shamelessly into the Prince’s chambers. 

Aemond only set a glance upon Ser Criston and the raven haired man took his place outside the closed doors.

You were sure that the Prince’s chambers were as large as an entire wing of your own home yet you felt claustrophobic under his gaze. His eye was hellfire as he silently stared at you, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers under his chin. There was little you could do but stare back at him, anxiously tapping your foot on the marbled floor.

In your eyes, Aemond had always been torturously beautiful. But here, as his gaze fell upon you and you shared the silence of his personal space, he was ethereal. It caused your breath to catch as you waited for him to address you first.

Shakily, you broke the silence. “Why am I here, my Prince?”

“You are to be my wife,” He drawled, fingers tapping on the desk that he lazily dragged his hand along. What a stupid question. “That is why you are here.”

“I believe you know that is not what I ask, my Prince.” You scowled at him. It wasn’t smart to talk to him in such a way, you knew that. He is Prince Regent, after all. A memory of your brother’s warning to be careful flashed briefly in your mind. 

His expression deceivingly calm, Aemond considered putting you in your place. He may be behaving in a way he does not recognise of himself but he would not tolerate your disrespect. 

Instead, he somewhat answered your question. “We will be married so that your brother’s treason shall be forgiven and your House will be sworn to the King. You will stay here, in my chambers. Do whatever the seven hells you please, it does not matter.”

In any other instance, Aemond would have detested the sight of you gaping at him, stumbling over your words stupidly as your wide eyes confidently held his own. You had changed. Or maybe he had just been blind to the perfect curves of your body or the way you looked at him like he ruled the realms, so submissive yet so full of fire. So tempting. 

He’d condemn himself to the noose before ever admitting to his thoughts. 

“What?” you almost gasped. There was no chance that you could stay in his chambers like this. You were sure the whispers of the Keep were already running amok with Aemond’s insistence on isolating the two of you behind the doors to his private chambers.

Aemond took pleasure in the way you seethed. “I will not make it so easy for you to return to scheming with your treasonous family.”

You could hit him. If he weren’t a Prince, you would have. “You are keeping me prisoner? For something I have had no such hand in?”

“No,” he stood from the table and in two strides, he was in front of you. So close that you could smell the woody oils he bathed in mixing with the smell of his musk and the leather of his clothes. You shuddered. “Maybe I am. Call it what you like. You can do as you please, eat as you please, wear whatever you please, you can explore these halls as you wish. I do not care. But you will listen to me and it will all be as per my will.”

Before you could respond, Aemond continued. “For all they know, I’ve made it clear to everyone that you will stay in the chambers that I have chosen for you, on the other side of that wall.”

Aemond’s eye was a violet-blue inferno as it held yours. He was closer now and you let your eyes drag across every part of his devastating face, swallowing at his beauty and wondering what lay under the leather of his eye patch. 

Struggling not to lose your breath, not to lean in to touch him and feel him, you held your head high and turned your back to him. “Fuck you.”

A gasp fell from your lips as Aemond’s hand found the back of your head in an instant, slender fingers weaving into your hair gently before closing into a tight fist and pulling back slowly so that you were forced to look up at the roof, the back of your head resting against his chest. His other hand wrapped around your waist, holding you back firmly against him. The tightness of his grip on your hair ached and left you dizzy, an unfamiliar longing for his hands to find more of you with the same fervour had you holding back a pathetic whine. 

Suddenly, you were burning from head to toe, a fire setting on your skin as he held you roughly against him, so close that you felt the feather light tickle of his breath grazing your hair when he spoke. He was scorching you through the leather of his tunic, your dress doing little to shield you from the heat of his body.

More than his anger, Aemond’s amusement made the air heavy. The way he unashamedly let his stare fall upon your lips, tucked between your teeth as you struggled to hold your glare, had your breath snatched from your lungs. 

Aemond dropped his head enough so that his lips lingered just under your ear, close enough that you could hear him draw in a breath, dragging his nose across the dip where your jaw met your neck. Your face burned at how shamelessly he had inhaled your soft scent.

“Is that how you talk to your Prince?” Aemond’s voice was low, dripping with a dominance that commanded respect. Placing his free hand on your left shoulder, he slowly turned you to face him, making sure to keep you tightly pressed against him.

Aemond was disastrously beautiful. The curve of his nose, the strength in his jaw, the way his scar painted the top of his cheek, the soft fall of his pin straight hair and the soft shine of his lips which you so badly yearned to feel. You cursed yourself for thinking such a thing as his low voice broke you out of your distraction. “This is my home. Right now, all of Westeros is mine. You are here because I said so, because I own everything. Everything. Including you. You would do well to remember your place while you are here, pretty thing.”

The fire in your blood was rage. You had never felt such desire that had your body craving another. It was anger driving you mad, it had to be. Despite your better judgment, you whispered once again, “Fuck. You.”

His jaw ticked and with a strong yank, you were flush against him. The pounding of your heart was violent and you were sure he could feel it against his chest but you were stuck under his burning gaze. Aemond was angry. And you couldn’t help but think that it suited him. It made him all the more desirable. 

Aemond was strong and hard against your body, tense as he held you so intimately yet so roughly. 

By the gods, you couldn’t even think. What was happening? 

“My Pr-”

“Quiet,” Aemond commanded. His deep voice, raspy with lust and with rage sent shockwaves down your spine. “What a mouth on you, my Lady. Fuck me, is that so?”

You muttered incoherently under your breath, the desire and the fear making your eyes flutter shut as you trembled against the Prince who held you so roughly.

“Hm,” Aemond chuckled when you let out a short whimper. He squeezed you tightly, his voice low and dark. “I could have you begging on your knees, crying for my cock all day and all night and you would never deserve it. You best careful, ñuha dāria, because I can ruin you.”

Another gasp fell from your lips and Aemond took pleasure in the way you squirmed against him, thighs pressing together as you felt the flush of his words through your body. He hummed, you were so reactive. Somehow, you fit perfectly against him, so that he could feel every little tremor he caused in your body, every goosebump that he placed on your skin. His gaze never left you, his resolve solid as iron. 

Your mouth watered at the thought of the things that Aemond could do to you. Thoughts you had never imagined yourself capable of harbouring, especially not for a man like Aemond Targaryen. It overwhelmed you - he overwhelmed you. 

But all you had to do was glance at the map that was splayed over his table and the weaponry he had discarded at the foot of it before you were trying to shove him away from you. Aemond stepped away from you upon noticing the panic in your movements. You barely noticed the flash of worry that passed through his features before he so skilfully replaced his mask. 

The rise and fall of your chest was heavy and you had the sudden urge to punch the sultry smirk right off of Aemond’s face. That was not okay. Right now, you didn’t even want to think about the way your body reacted to him, they way you would have let him have his way with you right there and then despite all the consequences that would rain down upon you. 

“I will not stay in here,” You closed your eyes to avoid his stare, chest heaving as you caught your breath and reminded yourself of the formalities of Aemond’s title. And of the possible repercussions for denying him so stubbornly. “My Prince, it is not appropriate.”

You hadn’t heard him make his way across the room until you heard the door open. Aemond hesitated, his resolve was not as strong as he had thought given the way his heart was beating as if he had run a mile. The strain at his pelvis was almost painful and his hands urged to be tangled in your hair again, squeezing your hips, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath your clothing. Perhaps you weren’t wrong and Aemond returned to his hardened self at the thought of being unable to control his desires. 

“Hm,” he drawled, stoic as ever and standing tall at the doorway and gazing down at you over his shoulder with a red hot spark in his eye. Aemond’s mind raced with a million words, many in the alluring language he knew you could not understand and they all tasted dangerous on his tongue. “You are not wrong. It is not appropriate until we are wed, ñuha dāria.”

[enhastolemyheart]

kinktober day 1 — car sex with heeseung

nsfw content minors dni.

Pairing racer!hee x afab!reader

Warnings profanity, kissing, alcohol consumption, fingering, one night stand(?), french kissing, hee calls reader 'pretty girl' and 'baby', reader moans alot (lmao), not fully proofread

Requested @ anon

Word count 1.6k

Kinktober masterlist — here

You didn't fail to notice the glances that the ace racer gave you ever since the after-party started.

Heeseung has won the race. As always.

You had originally come to support Beomgyu, all because you best friend is dating him. You don't really like all these illegal racing shit anyways. You always thought they were nothing but a time waste, not really worth it in the long run.

But, your best friend had been begging — almost to the point where she got on her knees — to convince you to watch a race with her. Just one. She's been at it for months; ever since her and Beongyu got together, she went to all of the race he participated in, and she would try to convince you to accompany her.

After a month of pleading, you finally said yes, but only for once.

As you made your way to the track, your best friend filled you in on who are competing and who go to just watch and have fun at the after-party. Your eyes widened a bit when you noticed the crowd formed. You and your best friend find the best spots to spectate the race from, courtesy of Beomgyu of course.

There were three cars lines at the start, one red, black and yellow. Your best friend had mentioned that Beomgyu was the owner of the yellow one. Each car looked expensive as fuck. You wouldn't be able to afford a single one of these, in your lifetime.

After the race was over — the red car driver had won by the way — everyone gathered around the rather tall man who came out of that gorgeous piece of metal.

"Hah, of course Heeseung has won the race." Your best friend exclaimed. "He is like the ace in everything. Wouldn't be surprised if he's like- you know absolute sexy in bed."

"Ew, " I grimaced. "You are dating missy, how can you say that?"

"Oh. I'm speaking for you honey, he'll be into you."

"Yeah whatever. Not interested." You gave her a pointed look, "He's probably like one of those snobs who's like so full of them themselves 'cause his ego get boosted twenty four by seven."

You didn't get a response from your best friend because Beomgyu — who had come second — had shown up, dragging her away to the mini club nearby where the party was being held. Shaking your head, you give the man of the talk one lady glance, only to see him groping a woman's ass as she most likely components him and tries to get in his pants. Ignoring the feeling inside, you maybe way to the club with your best friend and her boyfriend.

And that brings you here. Seated at the bar, downing a hangover-inducing drink.

You walked in with your best friend but soon after some alcohol consumption and very scandalous dancing to explicit songs, she has disappeared. With her man. You don't even want to know what was happening with her right now.

You nonchalantly scan the bar, putting your drink on the bar counter. Your heart thumped a bit more loudly as you met eyes with Heeseung. His lips carried a smirk add he looked at you through his eyelashes, making eye contact as he took a sip of his drink.

He looks at you with a small smirk. You can't help but internally gag. You will admit that he looks hot, his blond hair with a faded blue shade. His olive skin looked a bit glossy from the lights of the club. His Adam's apple bobbing as he downed his drink in a single gulp.

He locks eyes with you as he makes his way to you. It's as if time has slowed down, it's only you and him. The music blasting in the room has gotten muffled somehow. He gets incredibly close to you. Noses grazing each other, eyes piercing eyes. Then, his lips turn that smirk wider.

You can feel the heat radiating off his body and his musky scent sends you into a frenzy, but you try to stay unaffected.

"hey." He calls out, head tilting to the side as he takes your appearance in. He couldn't help biting his lips when he saw you in the tight pink dress, covering almost absolutely nothing. Your bust is almost out for the world to see, arousing him; and your cute little thigh keeps him out of focus, thinking of all the things he could do to you in just one night.

"I'm Heeseung." He smiles at you putting out his hand. Your heart fucking melted at the site of his smile. He is mostly on the sexy side of the personality you would say, lips always in a coy expression, his hair styled and that delicious looking neck inviting you to just simple liter kiss and marks all around it. He's dressed in a basic tee and jeans, but the racer jacket he is wearing, only adds to his 'fuckboy' aura, but something about his smile tells you that he's not all the hard and tough acts he keeps for everyone to see.

"I know." He only chuckles at your remark, taking another impossible step closer to you, hand going to your chin and thumb grazing across your lip. He stares at it like he wants to kiss it, ruin that gloss your wearing. "You must be Y/n right."

"How'd you know?" your brows furrowed.

"Beomgyu told me about you." Of course he did, you internally roll your eyes. You know you said that Heeseung is a bit overrated; but the way he is looking at you right now, like he wants to kiss you and how good he can make you feel, only gets you wondering what he really is like in bed.

"can I kiss you, pretty girl?" he asks you, bringing your face closer to his using the grip on your chin. And when you don't say anything, he leans in, super slowly, meeting your lips in a kiss.

The kiss felt calm but rushed at the same time. It felt like... he had been wanting to do this for a little while. caught up in the euphoria of it all, you press your palm against his nape, the other one going to his bicep that flexed under your touch. Fuck.

His hands wrap at your waist and pull you closer to his body, hips meeting. He requests for entrance and you allow him, tongues lapping up at each other fighting for dominance.

What in the fuck are you doing? You don't know and you blame the alcohol, but it feels way too good to stop right now.

"Do you trust me pretty girl?" He asks in between wet kisses on your neck. You whimper lightly at the sensation, tugging on his roots, "No, not really."

He lets out a deep throaty chuckle before pulling away but still holding you close to himself. "Come with me. I know where we can have fun without getting disturbed." His smirk widens.

You couldn't stop the moans that spilled out of you as you both humped against each other in Heeseung's sexy car. Your mind is going crazy thinking about how hot and hard is member is.

"fuck baby, You feel so good." Heeseung slurs from under you. You lean into him, face into the crook of his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses against the supple skin.

"Touch me, hee." you moan, and Heeseung thinks he'll be close to cumming in his pants if you speak like that, "Fuck baby. Of course." His lips meet yours into a messy and wet kiss. Hands going to the dress zipper on you back taking it off. His eyes turn boba shaped because of the view. Fuck, where have you been? He thinks to himself.

His hands roam all over your body, goosebumps rising in its wake. "You're driving me crazy, pretty girl." he rasps before his hand seeps lower and lower, reaching the hem of your underwear.

"Can I touch you, pretty girl?" He asks as he gently glides his thumb under the hem. You sigh leaning back, head meeting the headrest of the passenger seat. His fingers seep inside, eliciting a whimper from your lips as you clench around nothing. Hoping it was his dick your were sitting on.

You hold onto his forearms as he glides his digits across your lips, spreading your slick around. You bite your lower lip in anticipation, rolling your hips forward letting him know you want more. And he obliges, his index finger pushes past your lips into your clenching velvet-like walls. "Fuck baby you're so tight with just my finger. How will you be manage to take my dick huh?"

His words make you clench, resulting him to grunt softly. You take a long breath morphing into a moan as he fastens the pace. You practically scream at the top of your lungs at this point. "Heeseung! Fuck yes!"

He get too aroused with your moaning and clenching and that oh so beautiful fucked out face. He determines to get you to cum. It's his new favourite thing now. To pleasure you. "Hee!" you moan as you come undone. Slick sound audible as he get you through your high.

You giggle lightly at the ecstasy you're experiencing. Pulling him in for a kiss. He takes his hand out of your mound and put his fingers into his mouth, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. You blush uncontrollably at the sight whining for him to stop. "Seriously Heeseung, stop it."

"You taste too good baby." You mouth can't form any words and it doesn't matter 'cause he pulls you in a messy kiss, tasting yourself.

"how was that?" He asks you, softly rubbing the outside of your thighs. You smile, "It was really good." He hums in contentment.

"Now, it's my turn."

a/n thank you sm for reading! This is my first ever Kinktober saur hopefully it's upto the mark! thank you anonie for requesting. REQS ARE OPEN. slots for hoon are filled.

taglist: @seungiesluv @jak-ey @unlikelysublimekryptonite @seungcore @heeseungshim @arizejkt19 @manasasugarbaby09 @wildflowermooon

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Head Over Heels - Pete Mitchell x Reader

A/N: I've watched the OG so many times over the last month I felt inspired to write a little 1980s set piece for baby Mav. It's roughly set in 1983 (obvs. I wasn't born yet so I'm going purely off my obsession with 80s shit bare with me ok).

pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

warnings/content: fluff, set in the 1980s, Maverick hits on you in a bar while you're working, brief mention of Goose & Carole if you squint.

word count: 2.2k

“You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far, ‘cause you know it don't matter anyway…”

The sounds of Hall and Oates’ Rich Girl rang out from the jukebox that sat opposite from the bar, a few off-key voices attempting to sing the words in slurred tones, incoherent to anyone other than themselves. It was a typical Friday night, with a few people seated on the red vinyl booths that encircled the bar counter, empty beer glasses in front of them as they waited anxiously for a top up. 

You didn’t love your job here - you only did it to put yourself through school, and even then, it wasn’t as though you needed to - your parents had offered you financial assistance on more than one occasion, almost scandalized at the thought of their precious daughter working in a dive bar on weekends to put herself through college, but you were determined. You wanted to earn this degree on your own merit, without your parents holding the loan of a few thousand dollars over your head and without the feeling that you were some spoiled little rich kid that others should despise or envy. 

As you wiped a table clean in the far corner of the bar, you took note of two young men in bomber jackets coming through the entrance. The shorter of the two, a dark-haired man with intriguing eyes - were they hazel, blue or green? It was nearly impossible to tell. - laughed as he looked back to his friend, a tall blonde haired man with a mustache, who looked incredibly unimpressed about the choice of bar that his buddy had. You couldn’t say you blamed him - the food was decent, but that was about it. You weren’t exactly known for being the Ritz Carlton of dive bars. 

The two men sidled up to a booth, and you sighed to yourself, knowing that it meant they’d become your responsibility, whether they were aware of that fact or not. You finished cleaning the table off and retreated behind the bar to find two menus - not that they seemed like the type who were here for food - you knew the younger men that came in usually only came for one thing, cheap beer. You approached their table, plastering your customer service smile on your face as you sauntered over. You handed them each a menu and greeted them with your normally joyful voice, and you couldn’t help but feel like you came off as someone deranged for being so cheerful. 

“Hi! What can I get you both?”

“I’ll have whatever’s on tap, thanks,” the blonde replied with a polite head nod towards you. 

The brunette started eyeing you up, a grin plastered on his face as he took in the sight of you. Your outfit was hardly anything worth looking at, you thought to yourself. Fitted high-waisted jeans and a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo emblazoned on the back, the baggier fitting shirt tucked into your jeans to accentuate the fact that, despite how the t-shirt might come off, you did in fact have hips. His grin was playful - not the kind you were used to from men who saw you at work. He didn’t give you the impression he was only interested in taking you to bed with him, although you weren’t entirely convinced that wasn’t his motive. His hazel eyes lit up as he looked at you, his thousand-watt grin almost distracting.

“What do you recommend? I’ve never been here before.” He charmed, still smiling up at you.

“Well, our wings are pretty popular, I personally like them dressed in Kansas City sauce, it’s a bit spicier but it’s not too overpowering, and for a drink, I usually go for a rye and coke, but if you’re more of a beer guy, I recommend pairing it with a Budweiser. You can never go wrong there.”

“Perfect, I’ll have that, please. With a side of coleslaw.”

“Alright, two beers, an order of KC wings and a side of coleslaw? You got it.”

You disappeared behind the counter with their order and returned a few moments later with their drinks in hand. The brunette was leaning in towards his friend, whispering in a hushed tone that you could barely make out, but it was evident that your presence wasn’t known. You set the drinks down on the table and both men sat straighter in their seats. The blonde one looked at you with a charming smile, the kind you’d give a teacher who’d walked in on you doing something you weren’t supposed to at school. He cleared his throat and laughed slightly as he took a sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the cardboard coaster you’d brought over. 

“I’m so sorry, but my friend here, he’s a little shy. He thinks you’re really pretty though. Not that I don’t, I’m just engaged.” The blonde babbled, seemingly nervous, as if he was afraid you’d throw his drink over him. 

“Does he? Why doesn’t he tell me so himself?” You teased, looking over to the brunette, who was now blushing and grinning like an absolute idiot - the most attractive idiot you’d ever seen.

“He is afraid of women. Sort of, anyways. I never say the right thing.” He explained matter of factly. 

His eyes squinted to read the name tag on your shirt, saying it slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it correctly before giving you another smile. “Beautiful name,” he added. 

“Well, now this seems unfair - you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Right! Right. I’m Maverick. This here’s my buddy, Goose.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Navy callsigns. I’m Pete. He’s Nick.”

“Goose is fine,” the blonde interjected, shaking his head as he held up a hand to stop Pete from talking further, “Only my mom calls me Nick. And usually it’s if I’m in shit for something.”

“Nice to meet you, Pete. Goose.” 

You politely excused yourself from the table with a laugh before continuing with your other duties that night - waiting the few surrounding tables with  patrons, cleaning and restocking napkins and cutlery around the bar. You noticed at one point that Pete had approached the jukebox. He flipped through the available songs, selecting one seemingly at random, bringing Vacation by The Go-Gos to an abrupt end as his choice of song began playing. The opening bars of Making Love Out of Nothing At All by Air Supply began to fill the room, and Pete gave you a beaming grin as he retreated back to his seat. He began singing along to song with Goose, the two carrying on in an off-key harmonic ensemble that, admittedly, had you fighting the urge to sing along. 

As you approached the table once more, a playful smirk gracing your lips at Pete's rendition of the song, you couldn't deny the infectious energy he exuded. His performance, though not flawless, carried a certain charm that captivated your attention. As you deftly cleared away their empty dishes, Pete's gaze met yours once again, but this time with a smile that held a hint of mischief, a smile that could easily disarm even the most composed.

"Are you finishing up soon?" His voice was casual, but there was an underlying eagerness in his tone. Checking his watch briefly before locking eyes with you again, he continued, "I don’t have to be back on base until tomorrow morning. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to do something after work."

You couldn't help but grin at his forwardness, though you made a show of feigning reluctance. "I don’t accept dates from guys who ask me out at my workplace," you teased, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

Pete's response was quick, his charm effortlessly slipping through the cracks of your defenses. "Ok, that’s understandable. What time are you off work?"

"In ten minutes," you replied, a mixture of amusement and surprise coloring your tone as you realized the clever loophole he had found in your earlier rejection.

"Perfect. I’ll meet you outside in ten."

True to his word, ten minutes later found you standing outside, Goose offering a polite wave as he departed. Pete's smile was infectious as he approached you, his demeanor exuding a newfound confidence. He gestured towards you, his grin widening as he spoke.

"You said no because I asked you out inside, but now?"

A playful glint danced in your eyes as you played along. "Now, I suppose I can say yes. You’re no longer a creepy guy asking me out at work."

"Exactly, now I’m a creepy guy asking you out outside of your work. Much better," he quipped, a chuckle escaping him as he extended his arm towards you.

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, the tension between you dissipating as you fell into an easy banter. As he introduced himself, the warmth in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself drawn in despite your initial reservations.

Pete shook his head, a self-amused chuckle escaping him before he gallantly extended his arm towards you. His cheeks took on a charming shade of pink, adding a subtle glow to his already handsome features. It was then that the disparity in height between the two of you became apparent, your gaze meeting his from a slightly elevated position. A grin played at his lips as he ran a hand through his dark locks, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he regarded you with a mix of earnestness and intrigue.

"Sorry, I’m relatively new to this," he confessed with a sheepish grin. "My success rate’s not the highest unless I’m in uniform, and even then."

"Uniform?" you echoed, curiosity lacing your tone.

Straightening up, Pete cleared his throat before executing a mock salute with a touch of playful flair. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Peter Mitchell, United States Naval Air Force, currently stationed over at North Island, just across the bay," he announced with a subtle gesture toward the distant island.

"Peter, huh?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Did you think my parents just put Pete on the birth certificate and called it a day?"

"Actually," you quipped back, "earlier before you clarified, I thought they put Maverick on there and called it a day - Pete didn’t seem like too far of a stretch."

"I suppose you’re right," he conceded with a grin. "I don’t think I’ve been called by my full name since school, and even then, it was back when Peter from The Brady Bunch was still cool. I liked it then, all the girls liked him anyways."

"I was more of a Greg girl, actually," you teased, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance as you pretended to inspect your manicure.

"Of course you were," he chuckled, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "You’re one of the first girls I’ve met to not care about the military thing. Most girls are all over that."

"It’s impressive, don’t get me wrong," you interjected with a shrug. "I’ve just dated military guys before."

"Have you?" Pete's interest was piqued, his gaze locked onto yours with a newfound curiosity.

"Well, one," you admitted. "My first boyfriend when I moved down to San Diego from Oakland."

"You’re from Oakland?! I’m from San Francisco!"

"Small world, isn't it?" Pete's eyes lit up with a spark of excitement, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he realized the unexpected connection between your hometowns. "I guess that makes us Bay Area neighbors, in a sense."

You couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of warmth in the shared familiarity of your origins. "Seems like it," you agreed, the playful banter easing any remaining tension between you.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, a comfortable silence settled, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the bustling pier. In that moment, standing on the threshold of possibility, you couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Pete.

"So," he began, breaking the silence with a gentle tone, "any chance I could persuade you to show a newcomer around San Diego? I'm afraid my knowledge of the city is limited to the base and a few local hotspots."

The invitation hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. With a playful glint in your eyes, you considered his request, allowing yourself to entertain the idea of exploring the city with him.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," you teased, a coy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "But only if you promise to keep up with this newfound charm of yours, Lieutenant Mitchell."

Pete's laughter echoed against the backdrop of the bay, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "Consider it a deal, Miss Oakland," he replied, extending his arm once more in a silent invitation to embark on this newfound adventure together.

As you linked your arm with his, a sense of anticipation tingled in the air, the promise of new beginnings lingering on the horizon. With each step forward, you couldn't help but wonder where this unexpected encounter would lead, but one thing was certain: with Pete by your side, the journey promised to be anything but ordinary.

[soscarlett1twas]

A Twin's Anger

I've been thinking about Twin Marston lately

I don't think "Twin" ever hated Andrew. Or, at least, not to the extent he did his parents. Because for how terrible the dismissals were, the neglect he faced for the sake of Andrew, Twin doesn't seem the kind to have hated him solely for that. After all, with how Andrew talks about them, they seemed like best friends in their younger years. Playing video games, sneaking out, etc. Was he jealous? Absolutely. Hatred? Eh..

Then Isaac and Darling happened.

Canonically, Twin didn't (at the time) know about Andrew and Isaac's relationship (see here) and there's no way to tell if he saw the video/knows about Andrew's current relationship, but this entire post is in the realm of speculation so let me indulge.

Because if he did know about both relationships? Oh god.

Isaac's the difficult one. It lends credence to both forgiving and despising Andrew. On one hand, it's rational to think that maybe Andrew didn't speak up because he was in a similar situation to Twin (that is, being queer). But, from another perspective, Andrew also being queer gives more reason to help his brother - what's being a golden child worth if it's spent at the expense of a man scorned from your shared vice?

That’s where the disdain begins. For Andrew to silently choose their abusive parents before him, despite also being queer, it solidifies Andrew’s indecisiveness. Or perhaps he thinks he’s better than Twin. That even if he’s into men, that can be forgiven because he’s him.

Either way he feels, Andrew is a hypocrite. And Twin leaves. And they’re both left to deal with the fallout, each emotionally constipated.

Years pass. Twin’s only exposure to Andrew is the occasional call or text. Voicemails left unheard. And then the scandal happens.

News is plastered everywhere on his phone, curated from the years he googled Andrew’s name in midnight depressive spirals: Professor caught… professor groomed… there’s even more headlines. A video. Two videos. Thrown drinks. And him, the disgraced professor, defending the relationship.

And Twin is reminded of when he didn’t.

In defending someone he had barely known (because Andrew and Darling really didn’t know each other, they lusted after each other) Andrew showed that he was willing. He was able. Just not for his brother. Because what does it say about Andrew, who was willing to defend a near-stranger in some selfish desire to keep his relationship and wasn't for the man whom he shared a womb with?

Andrew had given up everything for Darling, we know this: But to Twin? Beyond the obvious, Andrew essentially threw away every year, the decade of abuse he suffered because of Andrew's "intelligence" for the sake of lust. And he was allowed to stay working at the university! Twin's love, the kind that got him thrown out and a reason he was discarded, was probably painted as just lust, not real love. But where he was so severely punished, Andrew didn't even loose his job — he made the choice to leave.

And if Andrew has a male listener? Then all this would be amplified ten fold. Golden-child Andrew is in a very public relationship with a man, defending them in some vain attempt to justify it! And they go out to museums together, they eat at nice restaurants, they get to be happy together. And Andrew is happier than he’s seemed in so long, because Twin knows his brother’s joy, and it sure as shit wasn’t there when he was alone and isolated as the young, prodigy professor. Andrew has turned Twin's eternal sin into his saving grace.

Could you imagine the anger? The bitterness? The feeling of watching the man you once called a ‘brother’ further drive the knife in your back?

That’s where the anger comes from. Not the original offense, but everything that came after. The ricochet of it all. If Twin wasn't coming back before, he certainly isn't now.

I guess the beauty of it all is how many parallels there are. A Marston is in a forbidden relationship, which is only forbidden due to the direct surrounding environment as outside of it there's really nothing wrong, and is found out by the very creators of said environment. They defend themselves, but upon lacking support from those he thought he could count on (Andrew or, in his case, the faculty) he leaves the situation completely and gives up on a huge factor of his life.

Crazy.

(Of course, this post doesn't take into account Andrew and Darling's POV, because Twin doesn't have that. We know that they argued and broke up, but he doesn't, and I really wanted to explore just how he may feel about all of this without further context.)

(Please somebody talk to me about Twin Marston I'm dying over here. Severe droughts in content for him I'm STARVING)

[milkycarnations]

Kinktober 2022

|Week Three| Masky x afab!reader | camgirl, cockwarming, object insertion | 1,785 words

kinktober masterlist | depraved, panty stuffing, anal, no actual sex just masturbation, but masky likes to pretend he's there, he's also mildly threatening but reader isn't picking up on it, "he's your top donor" trope, sexwork, reader is spoiled and lowkey a brat, cybersex, masks, uncreative usernames, porn with too much plot?

Written for @just-a-creep-babe's #creepkinks. I am in love with this man, can you tell? brainrotbrainrotbrainrot. Also thinking this could make a great short fic about him coming to find you irl...

He had become your vice.

It only started about six months ago, but when living in the moment, six months is a hell of a long time. You were broke, needed money, and shit on your luck in terms of job applications. With no time left to waste, you put what you had left to good use and bought a microphone and a webcam. You liked to say it was the best decision you've ever made.

Maybe it was a coincidence, but you hit the algorithm well and hard within your first two months. You weren't by any means rich, but after your prior living situation, you felt like a god coddled and cozy on Mount Olympus. You could afford a cheap apartment in a nice neighborhood, a great computer, and the means to further expand your business endeavors. By that, you mean nearly every and any toy imaginable that you could fuck yourself with.

Things really started to turn around when you noticed your regulars. Donations from the same name surely brought attention, but it really hit that sweet spot inside of you when a particular chatter donated a couple hundred nearly every stream. Nothing made you hornier than money and a man eager to please.

He often made requests in chat: outfit changes, toy changes, etc. It wasn't unusual. Until he offered something a bit more personal.

You shouldn't have agreed. It was probably dangerous. He could be a stalker. Regardless, after sifting through piles and piles of rude and horny (and sometimes both) emails you saw his offer and everything about it was so tempting. Private video chats. He was offering an entire month's rent worth per session. Above all, something about him enamored you. For lack of a better explanation, it felt naughty and scandalous and you nearly immediately sent an email back scheduling your virtual rendezvous.

Tonight was the night and you were bubbling with excitement. You'd never done a private show before. You'd grown little shame with your body and with sex, but now you felt like a virgin timid on their first fling.

Your room was your stage and you checked it thoroughly before you got ready to cam. No identifying details (though you hardly even kept your keys in your room anymore) and nothing embarrassing strewn about the floor. You emptied your trash can, grabbed some towels for clean up, and began to dress your set.

His email was straight to the point about his wants. He wanted you comfortable in that short silky robe you wore only sometimes and asked you to keep your toybox on stand-by. You always did, but the way he asked so kindly, yet so sternly did all good things to your pussy.

You sat at your desk chair as you waited, double and triple checking that you had everything you needed. You glanced over to the lube on your desk. Usually, you'd lube yourself up a bit before starting a show. It saved some time on cam and gave the pervs out there the idea that their favorite camgirl is the horny dream they've always wanted. Tonight, however, you hardly needed any. Still, you were avoiding any foreplay until later. You didn't want to waste any potential to make him a contact that kept coming back for more and more.

Soon enough, a notification pinged on your desktop.

themaskedman: we still on for tonight?

You stared at the message for a moment before responding. You were really doing this? You let him know you'd open the private room whenever he was ready. Before you knew it, you were to be naked for a crowd of one.

It was a simple video call - unaffiliated with your camming site. Both your mics were on, but his own camera was disabled. It was immediately strange having someone truly feel there on the other side of your nighttime shenanigans.

You leaned back in your chair, pulling your legs up to rest on your seat as you greeted him. For the first time ever, you had a voice to the username - and it was warm like whiskey and a paycheck.

"Any way in particular that you wanted to start tonight?"

"You can open your robe for me."

You smiled sheepishly as you slowly untied your robe strings. You pulled the front aside, popping your tits out and splaying your legs out over the arms of your desk chair.

"Any toy you'd like to see me with first?"

"Can I make an weird suggestion?"

His question at first unnerved you. You weren't saintly, far from it, but you'd seen the depravity of the internet.

"It depends. What do you have in mind?"

"I want you to grab a pair of panties. You have quite the collection, I know you have a favorite. Grab that one."

You did as he said, grabbing your nicest one from your drawer, feeling wrong walking away from your camera.

"What now?" you'd asked.

"Play with yourself. Get them wet and messy. But don't put them on,"

Though odd, the request was exciting. You took your time the following minutes, using your hands and a flashy pink vibrator wand on your clit, bunching the fabric between them. The pervs thought the pink vibe was cute and it packed a good punch. Double whammy - twelve settings. You certainly heard a noise or two coming from his side as you went on and tried your best to talk dirty to a man without a name. Your toy did quick work, making you drip all over yourself and wet the cloth. You didn't tell him, but a majority of your physical state was his doing. His sudden speaking startled you.

"I want you to stuff them inside of you."

You stumbled for a moment, his words hitting a second too late. Your face flared as you stayed still, panties in hand. Were you hearing him right?

"C'mon. You don't mind filling your dripping cunt for me, right?"

You moaned for him.

"Of course I don't,"

Admittedly, you'd never done something like this before, but it made you ache like crazy just thinking about it. You set your vibrator down, insisting on making a good show out of the act. You grabbed a corner of the underwear and rubbed your clit with it one last time before using your finger to start shoving it inside of you.

It felt almost exactly as you imagined it to. It certainly did well at absorbing your cum and grool, making it almost unpleasantly dry. The mental and visual image was the real kicker. For the first time in months, you felt slutty.

It didn't take long for them to be entirely inside you, yet you left a small bit poking out so he could see the hint of color against your skin. The whole time he offered small praises and words of encouragement. Could this really be too good to be true?

"I'll give you fifty if you send those to me when you're all done making a mess of yourself."

You tried to laugh off how sexy the offer was. You hadn't sold used underwear either, but you'd just might start.

"Aw, only fifty? What if I wanted to watch you, too? So inconsiderate."

"How about a hundred and we make it a playdate."

At the end of his sentence, his camera switched on. His camera was aimed at his cock, but the sliver of his face that you could see was covered by some kind of mask. Living up to his username, you guessed. He wore a sweatshirt and a pair of thick sweats that were pulled down past his dick. You felt high and dizzy and you wanted nothing more than to come in front of him.

"A hundred it is, what else can I do for you?"

"Why don't you warm a dildo in your ass and we can both pretend it's mine? Try not to move and you can keep getting off with that vibrator you've got."

You bit your lip, trying not to freak out.

"You're a man with good taste,"

"Stop trying to flatter me. Seeing you cum just for me is going to be more than enough,"

You watched as precum dripped down his length. He looked big and rather thick. You rummaged through your toys, looking for a dildo that you felt matched him best. Though you had done anal enough to feel comfortable jumping into it, you still needed to lube and stretch yourself a bit. You saw him stroke himself as you wet your fingers and played with your ass.

"That's good, get yourself ready for my cock, baby."

You whined, eventually lubing the toy as well. You placed it under you and slowly sank onto it. Your clit was sensitive, your ass was full, and your cunt was stuffed with panties all because he told you to. You bottomed out and reached for your wand. You rubbed it over your clit a few times, teasing yourself before turning it on again.

He started to fuck his hand, the mask still covering his face. You wondered if he planned to show himself to you.

"Where'd you get your mask?" You asked offhandedly. Maybe he had some sort of mask kink. You were starting to understand why. You knew everything about him, yet nothing at all.

"It's not safe showing your face to strangers. Don't you know?"

You giggled, bumping the wand up to a higher setting.

"You've gotta get it all the time. A pretty face like that - all your neighbors must know you're a slut behind camera. Aren't you scared?"

"I keep myself safe," you said, "what are you scared of little old me?"

He swore as he watched you squirm over the dildo beneath you, continuing to pump into his hand.

"We both know if we saw each other we'd fuck on sight. Nothing to be scared of about that."

You gasped, leaning into your chair, legs tensing up.

"You gonna cum for me? Cumming for a stranger you just met on camera?"

You nodded your head, unable to stop yourself from letting out pathetic whimpers and gasps.

"C'mon. Ruin yourself for me. Cum on my cock."

You pushed into your orgasm, keeping the vibrator flush against you as your legs shook and you bucked up. You kept going as you rode it out, letting the wand overstimulate you until you couldn't handle the vigor anymore. It hummed softly as you pulled it away from you, your pussy still convulsing around your panties and the toy in your ass spreading you open.

You glanced at your monitor and saw as he too came, his cum covering his hand as he palmed himself.

"So about those panties,"

[pass1onepr1ncess]

DON'T READ THIS BEFORE FINISHING DANGANRONPA TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC CHAPTER 2

Below is an analysis of Boy's Life of Despair- particularly how the entire chapter as a whole revolves around gender, queerness, and internalized issues regarding the aforementioned topics!

I know I just posted about this but I started thinking about Ishimaru listening to Pink Pony Club and sobbing bc of his family and reputation. My personal headcanon is that he's definitely gay but never got to unpack that bc he was more focused on being the Ultimate Moral Compass. And then he meets Mondo and starts to realize who he is and that even though their situation sucks that without his family and their status hanging over his head he's free to do some introspection and then just as he's started to find out who he is he loses the one person he's ever gotten that opportunity with and then goes mad with grief and denial not just for Mondo but also for his own identity. He was both grieving his “bro” and the authentic queer man he could've been and it caused him to force himself into the closet in a fit of mental illness and thinking that it's not worth it to find himself if it endangers others. Also Mondo was totally having a very similar if not exact reflection of this with Ishimaru and his internalizes homophobia is what lead to Trial 2 in the first place.

Internalized Homophobia AND toxic masculinity, EPECIALLY on Mondo's side. They both dealt with toxic masculinity but in very different ways. For Ishimaru it was about being a leader and someone the people could follow and have faith in, just like his grandfather was once. A man unbothered by any dilemma who could be a pillar of strength and motivation for any person to lean on, unfeeling and confident and strong. A grandiose statue, if you will.

For Mondo it was about being tough and intimidating, making sure no one would fuck with you and being a more stereotypical Man (at least in Western society). Though these perceptions come from different sources and at different angles, they end in the same result where both of these characters- even subconsciously- feel like they aren't allowed to be themself and instead have to become this molded shape of a man that suits their role in society- whether that be a future Prime Minister who will clear his family name of scandal and debt or a ruthless biker gang leader who doesn't take shit from anybody. Even if they want to, they aren't afforded the right to reflect.

In my mind, while Ishimaru was blissfully unaware of his queerness, Mondo Knew who he was but felt like he couldn't Be that person due to not only being the leader of the Crazy Diamond biker gang, but also because he wanted to be able to fill the shoes of his older brother- especially considering the fact that he feels responsible for Daiya's death.

(Also hi Jojo fans, if you recognize the "Crazy Diamond" biker gang then fun fact! Mondo is a MASSIVE Josuke reference! From his hair, the gang name- even the fact that his and his brother's names spell out "Daiya"-"Mondo!" And it's not the only Jojo reference in the Danganronpa franchise, either!)

Anyway, back on topic. Mondo Knew that he was queer, or at the very LEAST that he wasn't the Man he made himself out to be and that he wanted to be someone different. Someone softer, someone who didn't have to be so tough and intimidate everyone around him for fear of being undermined and not filling the shoes his older brother left for him. So he bottles up his feelings, hides who he really is. He gets angry, not at anyone in particular but angry that he's trapped in this facade of his own making.

So of course, when he finds out about Chihiro (She/They/He in this post btw), he gets even more angry. Chihiro is someone who's been able to experiment and express their identity. She doesn't care what other people think of her and decides to present and express however they feel comfortable- at least in Mondo's eyes. Chihiro has the freedom that Mondo craves so badly, and when she asks Mondo for help to be more Manly- something that Mondo feels like he's a fraud in- of course he gets angry. To Mondo, it seems like Chihiro is throwing this freedom away. This isn't actually the case, of course, but that's how Mondo percieves all of this.

All of this isn't meant to excuse Mondo's actions because I will never excuse or dismiss Literal Murder, but it does provide an explanation. Especially because the way Danganronpa itself handles Chapter 2 is abysmal. I was talking about with a dear friend (Hi, Mattie!) and we were talking about how Chapter 2 as a whole is 100% centered on gender and gender expression but how because it was horribly executed- no pun intended- that it falls so flat despite having the potentional to have a really nice nuanced take on toxic masculinity.

Even Chihiro experienced toxic masculinity! Because they didn't fit the "Big Strong Man" mold at a very young age, they were bullied and harassed for being weak and frail. So, they decided it would be better to be percieved as a girl than to be bullied as an effeminate boy.

Taking this opportunity to talk about MY PERSONAL HEADCANNONS and OPINIONS of Chihiro's gender identity. Which may not align with Your opinion, and it definitely doesn't align with canon- but that is okay! That's why it's a headcanon :). Anyway, personally I do think the Chihiro found comfort in femininity through the years of dressing as a girl. I don't feel like he's fully a trans woman, but I do think he's transfeminine! But in any case, moving along!

Literally every aspect and character involved in the core of Chapter 2's case and trial is centered on how gender affects us- especially how it affects men and AMAB individuals (excluding the whole Byakuya, Toko, and Syo debacle because that is. Another issue entirely and I will likely do an analysis on That as well, especially as someone with DID.)

Unfortunately, Danganronpa as a franchise has some decent ideas and then completely stumbles over itself with 8/10 on them! However, this series is incredibly dear to me and I can't bring myself to hate it. But! It's important to consume media with a critical lense. Don't forgive, excuse, and/or dismiss the faults of your favorites pieces of media just because you like them.

Anyway! A lot of this is headcanon but I also threw in some actual canon in there as well just for funsies skdjhfkjsf

[justrainandcoffee]

Criminal (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc)

Alfie Solomons x Rose Coldwell (ofc) Masterlist

Summary: Why give her a diamond necklace, a perfume or a new dress, when you can pay a bail to free her from prison? Their valentine's day ended with her in jail, but if you ask Alfie the events that lead her to be there were really worth. And hot.

Warnings: None. Except mentions of misogyny.

Words: 1.1 k.

1912.

The police station was in silence except for the chief's voice who was dictating something to another man who was sitting in front a typewriter.

Name: Rose Elizabeth Coldwell.

Date of birth: 20 June 1888.

Age: 24.

Status: Married.

Name of partner: Alfred Solomons.

Charges: Disturbances in public space, fighting, injuring another civilian.

Murders: zero.

"For now, you fucking pig!" the woman in question, didn't finished what she had started.

"Shut your mouth, lady."

"The day you close your ass, idiot."

"Add 'offenses against authorities'" the chief said to his colleague before turning his head to her "anything else you want to say?"

In response, Rose just showed him her middle finger.

.

How she had ended in such situation was a great question. Supposedly, that very night she and her husband were ready to enjoy a romantic dinner to celebrate Valentine's Day.

A new elegant restaurant had opened its doors and Alfie had made a reservation for them. Musicians were playing a beautiful melody with their instruments when they arrived. A waiter received them and accompany them to their table. Lamb was their choice for that night.

The young couple have only been married for less than a year, so that Valentine's Day was especial. Alfie kissed her hand and she smiled at him.

"I love you"

"I love you, too."

That restaurant allowed couples to dance and they saw several of them enjoying that night. Once the dinner was over, Alfie said to her, they'd dance as well.

But that never happened.

Lost in their own world, Rose only knew what was happening around them when she heard a woman sobbing. In the table next to them, a man was threatening his partner.

"I'm sorry," she said trying not to make an scandal.

"You're a worthless whore, that's who you are. Nothing but a bitch."

"Steven, please… don't."

"Don't what? Whore."

Rose frowned. Not in valentine's night and not in front of her. Sadly, Alfie reacted too late.

"Excuse me," she said approaching the man "Are you Steven?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

Rose smiled at him warmly and repeated the question "Are you Steven?"

"…yes "

"Good! Because I have a present for you!"

"What present?"

"This one!" Rose punched his nose with such strength that immediately it started to bleed and the man screamed. Now the whole restaurant were looking at them.

"My nose, you fucking bitch! You broke it!" the man tried to grabbed her but he couldn't. Over the last months she learnt jiu-jitsu and before the man could realise what happened he was lying on the floor with Rose sat on his back. She was making a key lock with the arms.

"Now listen to me, you piece of shit," Rose said still immobilizing the man. "Your options are very limited. Or I break your arm along with your nose or you learn how to treat a woman, fucking worm. Don't blame your wife if you are fucking, fucking miserable man. If you mistreat her again, I'll find you and I hope you have kids because after I find you, your days as semental are over and you'll learn that a broken nose is nothing compared to have a knife decorating your dick, did you hear?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"What?"

"Yes, ma'am, yes. I swear never again!"

"Good."

Rose let him go at the same time police arrived. The man walked through the multitude not looking at anyone and following one of the officers. The girl who was mistreated by that man and Alfie stayed there.

"Who's she?"

"Me wife," Alfie said trying not to sound so proud, but he was. He knew that she trained in martial arts but he never saw her in action. And to be honest with himself that was hotter than he expected. Such a badass attitude was definitely something new for him. "My Rosie."

They didn't allow Alfie to pay the bail in that moment. They kept adding charges because Rose wasn't ready to let it go. A lioness kept in a cage was a perfect definition for the current situation.

"Fifty pounds, sweetheart," said Alfie when finally, the next morning, they freed her.

"Make it one hundred, you fucking bastards!" she said leaning against the counter. The chief looked at Alfie.

"Control your wife, Mr. Solomons."

"Why don't you control the poor, eh? That's something you do very well! Bastards, part of this oppressive system, I hope you…"

Still protesting, they left the police station. Well, Alfie left the building carrying his wife with him.

"Ok. Enough, we're going home." Alfie picked her up easily and put her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "Have a nice day, gentlemen."

"Let me down, Solomons!"

"No."

"What? Let me down!"

"No."

"Are you planning to walk with me over your shoulders until we get home?"

"Yes."

"People are watching us."

"Good."

"Have you considered to say anything else apart from monosyllables?"

"No."

Rose sighed while Alfie walked. There were no far away from their home and yet, Alfie indeed didn't seem to be ready to let her go. She accepted her fate. More than one in the streets looked at them amused.

"Nice ass," she said pitching his bottom while he was turning around the corner. She heard him laugh. "Did you enjoy the show last night? The bastard went to hospital and I heard policemen said that he didn't want to present charge but the cops had another idea. Assholes."

Alfie didn't talk until they arrived their home and only inside, he let her down. She fixed her dress while opened her mouth to keep talking.

"You…"

But her words remained in her mouth. Alfie put his lips over hers and was kissing his wife passionately.

"Yes, I saw the show last night and it was fucking hot…" Alfie started to unbuttoned his shirt, guiding her to their bedroom. "Next time, warned me about your skills, Rosie."

She giggled, hugging him by the waist. "I didn't know that was a turn on for you."

"Me neither."

The man grabbed her by the waist and laid over her in bed. "Next time," he said between kisses, "I'll take you with me when I have a meeting with fuckin' Sabini."

"If you want…" Rose beneath him, looked at her husband.

"Oh, I fucking want." Both of them kissed again.

Their romantic valentine's night had to wait until the next morning to be finish the way they wanted to finish it. But it was worth. That 1912, it was probably one of the most memorable valentine's date they ever had. Chaotic, for sure, but they were used to it.

Alfie knew he was married to a criminal, after all, she had stolen his heart.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

For the 1,000 followers event (which I am so freaking happy for you about! Congratulations!) Can we get #3 with Manny? Please and a great big thank ya! 😘🩷

Masterlist

Red Light Blue Light

Contains: Mentions of sex, friends to lover, angst with a happy ending, car accident, mild injury, hurt/comfort, fluff. Takes place in a universe where there's no war with the Sons.

2.3K words

More than 19,000 people are injured annually in California hit-and-run accidents.

"Come on Querida, I know it means you'll miss your show but you record it anyway." Manny called you just as you finished work, and you knew when you heard his tone what he would be asking for.

You sighed, "Why not. You better make missing the biggest scandal in reality TV since Willam cheating on Drag Race worth my while."

Manny chuckled, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you have a great time, I'll even buy you dinner at that Taco place a few streets away."

You rubbed your face, "Ok, fine, but next time you want to hang out, you're coming to my place. I'll cook for you and you know I have that fancy craft beer you won't admit to liking."

"Done, that's a fair trade. I'll see you tonight." He sounded so smug.

"Ok Manny, see you tonight."

Manny got off the phone and grinned at Coco, "She coming?" Manny nodded, "Alright, good, I haven't seen her in ages. Are you planning a repeat on the last time, or have you jumped back on the just friends train?"

Manny sighed, "It was one time man, and we agreed that it wouldn't happen again."

Coco tutted, "She didn't just fall on your dick dude. Give it a chance, she might feel the same way."

Manny shook his head, "You see many old ladies around here? You and Hope are the only ones who aren't fucking struggling."

Coco raised an eyebrow, "We'll see. This time next month, she'll be your old lady."

****

Manny had been smiling like an idiot ever since the call and his excitement only grew as sunset drew closer. He and Coco were out on the road, coming back from a day trying to lock down the prisons after Iron War filled the void that the Sons had left.

Coco waved his hand to grab Manny's attention and pointed to the road ahead of them before raising his voice above the roar of the bikes, "Is that y/n?"

Manny nodded, "Yeah." He chuckled, "Her and that car, she might as well wrap it in bubble wrap." Manny would laugh every time you compared his bike with your car and its side airbags and superior crumple zone.

"She must be on her way to the clubhouse, do you think we'll catch up with her?" Manny could see that Coco was calculating the distance between their bikes, your car and the next light.

Manny shook his head, "Nah, we'll just miss her." Sure enough, the light turned green and you slowly pulled into the intersection as they got going too.

It happened in a flash, and Manny could hear the revving of a car before he saw a flash of silver, then an all mighty crash as a vehicle slammed into the driver's side of your car. To make matters worse, the offending vehicle only stayed idle for a moment before reversing and speeding off.

Manny was stuck still as he tried to process what he saw and his mouth opened before he could think, "Go after the car."

Coco was already racing after the pickup truck and Manny sped towards the wreck. He was off the bike so far he almost fell over and then he wrapped his fingers around the twisted metal as he tried to pull the door free, "Y/n, Querida. Talk to me."

He heard a groan but the airbag hanging from the roof stopped him from seeing your face, "What happened?"

Manny relaxed, if only a little, "Someone slammed into you, Coco's got after them…."

A quick look at your legs showed you weren't trapped, but there were more pressing matters, "Manny, I can smell gas."

"Shit, I'm going to pull you through the window, cover your face." Manny took his blade and beat in the corner of the already shattered window before pulling it out of the housing entirely, "Grab on to me."

You stretched across the seat and grabbed your bag before you wrapped your arms around his torso as he leaned into the car and wrapped his around your waist and he let out a breath when he saw your legs were free despite the damage to the car. The movement was fast and left your head spinning as awareness of the pain you were in suddenly flooded into your consciousness as your feet touched the ground, "Ow fuck."

"I know but we gotta get away from the car." He dragged you across the street and the sound of another bike distracted you as Manny called for help.

Manny could tell by the look on Coco's face that he didn't manage to catch up, "I got the plate but the fucker was driving right for the station."

Manny was still holding you up as he finished the call, "Help's on the way. I take back everything I ever said about that car, I think it saved your life."

Coco chuckled, "That thing was a fucking tank. Those fucking pickups, I swear they flatten everything they run into."

"I don't think I'm that hurt. But a fire just caught." Sure enough, when they looked over, flames had started to flicker from the puddle of gasoline.

Manny and Coco shared a look, "The firefighters and EMTs will be here soon, just hold tight."

You nodded, "Can I sit down, my legs hurt?"

Manny shook his head, "Nope, just in case you've rattled your brain we gotta keep you awake."

Before you could say more, the sound of sirens drowned you out and people were rushing everywhere before the rush of water put out the growing fire.

A paramedic came into view and you did your best to disconnect from Manny and stand up straight, "I'm ok, the car took all of it."

The paramedic chuckled, "I can see that, we gotta get you checked out anyway."

You looked to Manny for support but he shook his head, "Go on, I know you've got good insurance. I'll follow you."

You sighed, "Alright. My poor car, I loved that thing."

"I know, but you can replace that, we can't replace you." He sounded more relieved than worried.

The paramedic nodded, "Your friend is right, ma'am, that was a very close call."

****

Manny pulled up to the hospital just after the ambulance and waited in the waiting room while the doctors looked you over. To his great relief, it didn't take long before a woman in a white coat came out, "Your friend is fine. Her thighs are bruised, and she has a sprained knee and a bruise from the airbag. Other than that, nothing is wrong. I don't believe in miracles, but this is as close as it gets."

Manny felt the weight lift from his shoulders, "So I can take her home?"

The doctor nodded, "Yep, we've given her a few days of meds so she can get some rest but other than that the only thing she needs is time."

"Thanks doc, I'll take her home now." Manny knocked and pushed the door open when your voice floated through the wood, "You ready to go?"

You nodded, "Yes but not on your bike."

Manny chuckled, "I had the prospect bring the car."

****

Once the hospital was out of view, Manny took a moment to look over your face before speaking, "Do the cops want to talk to you?"

You shook your head, "No, I wasn't drunk or high and I didn't see the car. There's nothing I can tell them, I can give my statement whenever I want so I can get my insurance payout and that's the end of it."

"I'm sorry, if I hadn't pushed you to come out tonight, this wouldn't have happened." You could hear the guilt in Manny's voice.

"You couldn't have known, this isn't anyone's fault. I'm ok, really." You hoped you'd sounded convincing but the look on Manny's face told you something different, "I want nothing more than to have a nice hot shower, take a few pills and get some sleep. Please don't beat yourself up about this, it isn't your fault."

Manny smiled softly, "Ok I won't but you gotta let me check in on you over the next few days."

You sighed, "Sure, if it will make you feel better."

The rest of the ride was had in conversing about the TV show you missed and by the time you pulled up to your home, Manny was just as pissed as you, "How could he cheat on someone so amazing? With a woman like that too. What's wrong with him?"

You shrugged, "He's a worm with a moustache."

Manny chuckled, "Well, I'll watch the reruns with you tomorrow. I spoke to Bish while you were getting checked out and you've got the whole day with me."

You huffed, "You could have let me know that while we were still in the car, I would have gotten snacks."

Manny placed his hand on your lower back and walked you inside, "We can do that anytime, you need to get some rest."

****

The weight of the day hit you just as you threw on your sleep shirt and hobbled to bed. Manny placed the pillow under your knee and brushed a strand of hair from your face, "You good Querida?"

You nodded softly, "Yeah, very sore but other than that, I think I'll be fine, the shower did wonders."

Manny took a deep breath, unsure how to break the news he got while you were bathing, "The guy that hit you's been done five times for drunk driving. The club's on it now."

"Figures, that explains why he ran." You rubbed your face, "the fact that you said the club's on it makes me think the cops aren't interested."

Manny shook his head, "No, they're not. He used to be one of theirs. Do you need anything else? Name it and it's yours."

"Please stay, I don't want to be alone tonight." You regretted it the second you said it, you had agreed after that night to keep things simple.

Manny smiled softly, "Sure, you want me to take the couch or.."

"Here's fine, if you want to, that is, it's not weird to share a bed with a friend." The way that Manny was looking at you made you think you might be more than that.

"I'm pretty sure I still have a pair of sweatpants around from that time I helped you paint your kitchen, can I have a quick shower and change before I climb into your nice clean bed?" Manny was always so thoughtful.

You nodded, "You do, they're in the bottom drawer and thank you."

Manny smiled, "What are friends for."

Manny was quick, leaving the door open to talk to you while he washed up. His chest was bare when he emerged and you flicked your eyes right to his to avoid gawking, "I can throw on my shirt if you want?"

You shook your head, "No, that would defeat the purpose of showering. I've seen you shirtless plenty of times Manny."

Manny dropped the subject and climbed into bed next to you, "Are you comfortable?"

You thought for a minute before turning on your side and facing him, while Manny repositioned the pillow, "I am now."

Manny smiled softly, "Good." There was a pause as you stared at his chest just inches before you and then you made a decision, one of which Manny seemed to come to simultaneously because just as you went to nestle into his arms, he was stretching them out to wrap around your body.

Nothing was said as sleep came over you, not even a good night but you swore as the last bit of awareness faded that you heard an "I love you" whispered into your ear.

****

The next day was spent smoking weed and eating while Manny's attention stayed glued to the TV so he didn't miss one second of what led up to the big scandal you had told him all about. He got a phone call just after six and hurried to the backyard to take it, coming back with a small smile on his face, "I've got good news."

"Ok, what is it?" You could tell by his tone it wasn't good news for someone.

Many sat down and popped a chip in his mouth, "We found the guy that hit you. Needless to say, he won't be hitting anything in a very long time."

You exhaled through your nose and shook your head, "I don't want anyone getting into trouble for me."

Manny smiled, "He did it to himself, we just gave him a push. Well, Coco did, but everyone else helped."

You took a moment before making your next statement, "I heard you last night and we need to talk about it."

"I meant what I said and I'm not upset heard me. I know we agreed to let go of what happened that night but I don't want to and you almost dying hasn't exactly made it easier to keep my feelings to myself." He had moved closer to you, his leg almost touching yours.

"And if I return your feelings, what then?" You knew what would happen.

His hand came to stroke your cheek, "What do you think Querida?"

Your eyes close unconsciously at his gentle touch, "I love you Manny."

He leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours in a soft request for persimmon before you closed the gap and sealed your lips to his. When you pulled away, his pupils were blown so wide that there was hardly any brown left and his tongue darted out to lick his lip, "As much as I would like to keep this going and have a repeat of that night, I am very bruised and it's not going to be any fun."

Manny scrubbed his hand over his face and huffed, "You're right, plus, I want to watch the whole series before the next episode airs and we don't have a lot of time."

You pecked his cheek, "I love you."

His nose nuzzled your skin as he returned the gesture, "I love you too y/n."

Fin

[gilligansgarden]

15, 16, 23, 26, 42, 53, 79, 95, 99

Do you get wanderlust? Where do you want to go?

its not really worth thinking about because i start wanting it but i wanna climb the eiffel tower

Romantically, do you prefer men, women, both, any/don’t care, or are you aromantic?

i prefer alex!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ theyre so princely in a pretty way

i saw them in a suit a while ago it was so hot and fancy we danced!!!!!!! man a fancy dress would be cool huh

Do you believe in an afterlife?

god got killed in 1974 during the watergate scandal so at the moment angels are getting bought off by rich bitches for dominion perks so uncle bro had to make sure to shoot some out every now and again when he was alive still

hell is all we got left unless we end up god tiering for real but DATS not gonna happen...

What does your favorite tattoo mean to you? Or if you had to get a tattoo, what would it be? Why?

scars are baaaasically tattooes but i already talked about those so i think id get a cabbage patch kid on my womb so i could act like im bursting out of my own body alien style

What do you feel like you’re missing from your life right now?

the tiny gay hat that pentiss stole from me [:](

What’s the most annoying thing that happens to you on a regular basis?

when goli tosses fruit at me when im trying to take a fucking wiss!!!!!!!!!! DICK!!!!!!!

What’s your most prized possession?

GOLIATHS SKULL!!!!!!!!!!!! its proof of my win [:])

Can you remember the last time you made a deep personal connection with someone?

if i asked myself this question i would think about all the people i knew and ask what makes the connections we have deep because i know a lot of things about myself and all the guys i am and all the people around me kind of think im just one person

and i guess thats true

but its the same way you get a big blanket with holes and say the fabric like the circles you cut out is also the blanket like its true but its also a different blanket like holes in the ground

but you cant actually jump into them because its not big

the big blanket has holes you CAN jump through though so i guess you could stretch it over the gap between some pillars or cliffs or beds and have some fun hopping around like its a set of agility tires

Which people in your life do you wish knew you better?

seriously who the shit is zack

oh besides that alex has a dirk strider who i have to kill the ass and heart of but only a little because theyre pitch together which means they duel and fuck in an anime rivalry way

i dont know i5opod all that well or sefoni or dave yifftwiceplz who IS A DAVE!!!!!! WOW and i like captain [:]) captain is an inkling and i want to know them more CT IS AWESOME TOO BECAUSE SHE LIKES FROGS AND EXPERIENCES HER ASPECT WEIRD. and guiltygetaway [:]P HI GUYS IF YOURE READING THIS

[sukunasun]

dont imagine jjk men as footballers 🥵

...don't think about my one true fantasy?

geto who plays with grace, with style, and little bit of chaos. who's so tactile in his approach, isn't afraid to get up close. dribbling with feet so quick as he thinks ten steps ahead of everyone, and sets up these perfect assists, serving goals on a silver platter for gojo. so ruthless and intelligent, with force and agility, he's passing and breaking through a team's flaws, seeing it all. too much space here, no one’s tracking them there. tearing through defenses with such ease it’s almost embarrassing. an opposing player who's brought down by a nasty tackle looks up at him and sees the face of a man who isn't sorry. wholly contemptuous, a tad bit mean, smug, still, geto reaches out a hand to help him on his feet, "eyes up, not on the ball," he says, and they take it as advice.

with his hair up and slipped under a sweatband, damp tendrils stick to his glowing skin. brings the edge of his jersey up to his face and pats it dry, gently. in the crowd, a fangirl almost faints at the sight of his toned abdomen and deep, v-line grooves. he'd blow her a kiss, or maybe a wink, but he reserves it for the twins who watch him at every match, in every country. does that thing for the photo ops where he laces a medal around their necks. bobbing heads of black and blonde, their feet covered in tiny team-branded socks, an exact replica of the ones he wears.

he's got a look—a glistening sweat-covered face, flushed pink from the tip of his ears to the cut of his cheekbones by the labor of playing a full game—oh he's not fond of it, of the grease, and the too-green smell of artificial grass. it's why he spends half a week's worth of pay on skincare and soaps. (uses those travel bags during away games, stuffs them full of mini cosmetics, and you can bet he will not share.)

until he hears you whisper, "i love you like this," while slowly peeling off his track pants and feeling his hardness bounce free. geto's a gentleman of course, but not when you've practically jumped his bones the moment he's stepped foot past your threshold, he'd give in, he'll be just as desperate, just as depraved as you are. taps his leaking cock against your lips in lieu of asking you to open up. taking it down your throat so deep your nose presses into his groin. he still smells of the gym, the lingering bits of his deodorant, and whatever it is that makes your eyes roll back, tasting like sin and salt.

he's got his chest puffed and head held high, probably the only person who puts gojo in his place, without having the pressure or any bit of inclination to praise him, worship him at his feet, who meets him where he's at. which is almost always right next to him, or from a corner flag, screaming at him to get back into position so he can make this free kick. 

——————————————————

or or ... hotheaded sukuna and his anger issues, his stubbornness. rough and heavy-handed. won't suggest getting in his way if you cry easily because he will headbutt and yell in your face. pointing a finger at a ref has never been so instinctual and necessary, has so little regard for the poor defender he chases down the field, they look back and hear his belittling little chuckle before the ball is stolen from their loose grip. with red and yellow cards piling up every season and he doesn't give a shit honestly. suspend him, call him out, he's been on the fifa game cover two years in a row and he'll keep the sponsorships anyways because the fans can't get enough, all the tattoos, dyed hair, bruises, and scars he wears with pride.

he must be a manwhore they think, what with an attitude and ego like that, but he's never had a cheating scandal, nor has he gotten his nudes leaked...no he won't fuck you in a locker room (as if that was possible) and he doesn't like parading you around online. "i don't want other guys looking at you," he says,sukuna has always worked for it, he just makes it seem like he's had it easy. which is why he's cuffing you almost immediately, putting a ring on it, and getting your name inked into his back. he knows it's lame and overdone, but he's just possessive like that. a man who makes it known when he fucks you after every win, every loss. taking his frustrations out on you, sinking his teeth into your neck, backshots and binding you to the bed. "you could have made that goal..." you tease, pricking at his ego, at where it stings the most, hoping that he lets it out when it'll only eat at him.

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

I love Luke Atmey's thought process for how utterly deranged yet brilliant it is.

You could not write a more obvious "smart but neglected" character architype if you tried so I'm not even going to bother pointing that out. His name literally is "Look At Me!" (or "I Want Love!" in the Japanese version) and Phoenix guesses that he was something of a chronic attention seeker as a kid, we can take a hint. He's an Ace Detective, sure, but even the life of an eccentric private eye didn't draw enough public eyes to him. He needed MORE.

Enter Mask DeMasque; an equally eccentric thief who Atmey could have very easily caught on the first go. He knew it was Ron Delite from the first heist and getting a valuable gem back would get him some attention.

Buuuuuuuuuut... what's more exciting? A one-off defeat with no sign of a return? Or an epic battle of the minds between the so-called Phantom Thief and the Ace Detective?!

Atmey being Atmey, he chose the option that would net him the most attention. It's no good if he just leaves it to chance, of course - he may suffer a humiliating defeat or win just a little too soon to milk the dynamic for all it's worth... Wait. He knows who Mask DeMasque is. Atmey holds a key bit of leverage over Ron here. What if he were to blackmail him into following a set script and disguise it as a grand battle of law and larceney?

And thus the great rivalry was born. Atmey had full control over not just what heists Ron pulled, but also whether he won or lost the intellectual battles since Ron was told to leave the treasures with his blackmailer. He did have to pay Ron as an incentive, though it was always pretty low compared to the actual value of the items he stole. Not that Ron cared, he just wanted to make his wife happy, nor did Atmey - the man seems pretty well-off himself. It was never about the money after all. It was about the theatrics. The adoration and attention from people who wouldn't give this proboscis monkey a second glance otherwise.

Enter Kane Bullard. He seems to think Luke Atmey is the true mastermind behind the Phantom Thief - not that he was blackmailing Mask DeMasque, but that Atmey WAS said larsonist.

Can you imagine? Luke Atmey, Ace Detective, was the great theif he did battle with all along? That would be ridiculous! A ludicrous twist of fate! A scandal the likes of which no man thought he'd ever see!

See... See.......

See, this what I mean by "deranged yet brilliant". Luke Atmey saw someone threatening to undo his whole scheme and at least one of the thoughts that entered his head was:

"Holy shit I'd be so famous if it were true"

The pieces were all in-place; he had full leverage over Ron as his blackmailer, a new treasure in the form of Ami's urn was making its debut, and he had an idea or two about who it is that's threatening his entire scheme.

And he did it purely because he was so infatuated by the idea the man who was blackmailing him had inadvertandly presented. He wanted to be found guilty of being Mask DeMasque, not just to exploit the Double Jeopardy laws and get off scott-free with killing Bullard, but to also cement his legacy as a living legend of both law and larceney. Theft of a dingy urn wouldn't even be that serious a crime to be charged with, especially compared to murder. He'd happily take some jail time and endless press coverage over being found out as a blackmailer and a killer.

The scary part is? It almost WORKED! The only thing that caught him out at the end was an unfortunate slip of the tongue not even brought out not by Phoenix himself. Otherwise his innocence in Bullard's murder was iron-clad from a legal perspective (or at least from the perspective of whatever the fuck's happening in Ace Attorney's legal system). I've heard it said that his plan was Gant-tier foresight and I can't help but agree. The man goes way too hard for a second case villain, debatably only being matched by SoJ's second case villain long afterwards.

All for the sake of whatever fanfiction bullshit he wrote in his head about himself. Based purely on a misunderstanding from his BLACKMAILER of all people. Just because it would net him the most attention humanly possible given the circumstances.

How easy would it have been to send Ron to face the consequences of Bullard's snooping in his stead? Would it have been worth the risk of Ron revealing that he had been recieving blackmail of his own? But that's the thing. It wouldn't be a fitting end to the great rivalry for some schmuck like Bullard to defeat either man out of the blue like this. Atmey would've fallen into obscurity, either because he'd lost his greatest gimmick or because he'd be found a blackmailer.

He made the best out of a bad situation in a way that only someone as batshit insane as the one and only Ace Detective would ever think to do. He is ridiculous and I absolutely love him.

Jury is out on whether he'd remain an Ace Detective after the fact. I don't think he thought about his job security when coming up with his scheme.

[fuctacles]

Road to El Dorado but Steddie?

Only a blorbo for @batboysxprompts Friday 13th event bc I'm running on fumes

"You seem awfully lucky today."

Eddie turned away from his loot, eyeing the man that approached him. The handsome face was distracting enough he almost missed the uniform. Almost.

He put on his most charming smile.

"What, is it a crime to be Lady Luck's favorite, now?"

"No, of course not," the man smiled back, and oh shit, Eddie's charm was being overpowered tenfold. The man leaned his arms (so, so toned) on the bar next to him. "It is a crime though to use weighted dice."

Eddie's eyes widened in scandalized shock.

"One must have no honor to do such a thing!" he exclaimed.

"Indeed," the man nodded. "Only spineless thieves use them."

"Ah, the worst kind of man," Eddie nodded along, trying to eye his exits but the man was leaning close and focusing on him like he was pinning a moth onto a display.

"No, I think there are worse people."

Eddie licked his lips.

"Who would that be?"

"Con artists."

Someone sneezed.

It was a trigger that made them both jump into action.

Eddie snatched his wrist away from a sudden grip and pushed his drink to spill on the man while he ran. The guard had more than a face to offer though, his reflexes fast enough to snatch on Eddie's bag. He's been living this way for years though, so he slipped easily away with a practiced twist of his body.

He ran out of the tavern without looking back, ducking into alleys and doors he'd engraved into his brain through the years. He only stopped when he landed in a forgotten attic with only one point of entrance. Completely out of breath, he fell on the dusty floor. Finally he could bask in his treasure in peace. He scrambled to get his bag open, shuffled through it, then upended it on the floor. His notebook, a few rings and some fruit tumbled out but there was no sign of the thing he cheated so hard for.

The El Dorado map was gone.

***

Steve Harrington looked at the only thing left in his hands from the elusive con artist Edward Munson. It was a scroll which upon unfolding revealed a map. It was a lot less descriptive than the ones he was used to, and more rumpled, like not once in its existence has it been stored properly. He wondered if it was worth enough to lure the thief back. 

That led him to the local library and the only person he could trust enough with such a thing.

Robin studied the map and compared it to various texts and illustrations until the night settled around them and he finally got his answer in the form of excitement sparkling in his friend's eyes.

He smirked to himself.

"Guess Lady Luck isn't so fond of him after all."

[mirmoria]

ONLY FRIENDS ENDED OMG. I'm glad I wont be spending every moment waiting for saturday to come around but boy do I have some thoughts.

-SANDRAY ENDED BEAUTIFULLY GOD BLESS. they confirmed their bi4bi situation in literally tHE.BEST.WAY.POSSIBLE like,,, Kiera Knightley?????????? AND THEN THEY DANCED TOGETHER skjshshshsh SO ADORABLE I WILL LITERALLY EAT ROCKS I HATE GAY PEOPLE SM. Ray making everything neat and clear to Boeing while Sand stood in back looking all smug and shit had me jumping in my seat. ALSO WHAT THE FUVK I was not expecting the three of them to actually kiss. It was hot, yes, but it still caught me so off guard.

Sand kissing Top was something I didnt not know I needed. Top has never looked more scandalized and I love it.

Speaking of Top, I skipped through pretty much all topmew scenes. It felt like they were shoving their relationship down our throats. Like I get it. They're happy. they also took up so much screen time THAT COULD HAVE BEEN USED TO FIX MY MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR ISSUE. Boston.

You're telling me that you made me bulid an emotional connection to this man only for you to LITERALLY leave him on the side of the streets???? It felt so unsettling. I respect how Nick walked away, realising his self worth and shit slay go king, but at the same time I hate that the last scene we got of Boston was of him being on the streets, lonely and friendless despite trying so hard. Why didnt we get to see his growth in New York, why didnt we get to see him happy, why didnt we get to see Nick's growth, why didnt they get their happy ending, why weren't they included in the final scene when Cheum and April, two people most of us have little to no attachment to, were??? It felt like the creators really tried, gave up and then proceeded to just pretend Boston and Nick were never really a part of the story at all. It felt so incomplete.

I also would have loved to know what Boeing's final goal was. The creators made him do way to much only for him to be, again, cast to the side and forgotten.

The only thing that went right was Sandray and for that reason I shall sleep well tonight.

[bonny-kookoo]

I DON’T WANT PEACE👹

I CRAVE HEART CRUSHING ANGST!👹

Everyone: blame this person right here, not me.

---

"Alright yeah, you're pissed and I get that-" yoongi says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But could you not yell like a maniac? You're scaring her." He sternly says, having noticed you trembling on the couch next to him. You've never met his bandmates, you've got essentially no idea who this stranger is in your home- so you're naturally terrified.

Especially considering where you came from. Before Yoongi came along, shouting had ways been the intro to every nightmare you'd experience.

"I don't care! I'm fed up with this!" Namjoon yells, visibly snapping. "What's next? Jimin has a wife and kids? Taehyung runs a brothel? Who knows because I for sure as hell don't!" He barks, waving his arms around. You visibly flinch at that, and Yoongi gets up along with his bandleader.

"I think you should leave." He says, and Namjoon steps closer- way too close for comfort.

"Maybe you should leave, if you get my hint." He grits out between his teeth, and it stuns the producer a little bit.

"I should leave? Oh really now?" He asks, unsure if the man across him is being serious.

"Maybe?! Is this all even worth it anymore if we dontbtell each other shit no more?" Namjoon argues, and Yoongi is ready to respond-

Before he hears the front door slam closed behind him. He doesn't need to look around much to realize what must've happened, as you're nowhere to be seen, and he knows from experience that as a fox no matter what subspecies, your instinct is to hide whenever you feel unsafe.

"Great. Awesome, really!" Yoongi barks, instantly moving to get his coat and shoes on. "Thank you!" He shakes his head angrily.

"If she runs off like that you've clearly not trained her well enough!" Namjoon tries to argue, and Yoongi turns around with a scandalized expression.

"You dont- namjoon, I respect you, but what the fuck? You don't train them, they're not pets for fuck's sake!" He exclaims, completely upset at the situation. "I can't waste time arguing with you right now. Fuck off, and don't you dare try and contact authorities about this!" He threatens as he pushes his friend out the door with him.

"Why? You've got dirt on your shoes with her? Great, a criminal record now!" The bandleader yells after him.

"Fuck you." Yoongi darkly responds, voice deep and controlled, and its now that Namjoon starts to get a little worried of his personal safety because he knows that once his friend goes calm, it's really the end of his patience wearing thin. "She's an abuse victim, got PTSD, and I promised she'llbe safe with me, I literally signed a fucking document that stated that if I fail to take care of her, she'll be back at the treatment center, locked up like she's some sort of monster." He explains.

He remembers all the strings he had to pull, how many friendships he had to play to somehow get things approved. He'd just donated to the place, nothing else- but somehow, seeing, meeting you there, had made him just decide that he could be your safe space. If no one wanted to try, so be it. He would try, as many times as he needed- and it worked. You improved, you healed, you're able to live a normal life now despite your ups and downs. "I gave her a normal life, I am her only chance at living outside of that place, and if you just ruined that for her, for ME-" he says, clenching his jaw, thinking of his next words before he decides against voicing them. "-do what you think is right. It's what you always do, after all." He finishes, before running off, phone in hand to track the Tag he's put onto your collar.

Praying that he finds you before anyone else does, or before anything can happen to you.

[peppermintbuttlemon]

I'm usually Only Reader here but I wanted to say I don't believe for a second they are dating. It's an obvious PR relationship and I feel like JQ didn't and doesn't even want it. I feel like this relationship only happened because of that 2022 shit with Noah and stuff. PR team of both sides knew it would be sensation like "she manifested him omg". This is good situation for DC: after that humiliation she got to trick people into thinking she finally got the man of her dreams and that humiliation was "worth it". For JQ it's publicity and possible hook up. But I don't believe it's a genuine relationship. There are two sus things that got my attention. 1. That video where they walking and he lowered his hand to grab her ass. If I'm not mistaken we only got the video that ends with his hand going down on her hip. Do you think paps wouldn't have recorded the whole moment? They've been recording celebrities intimate moments for years but this time they decided to end the video before he fully grabbed her ass? Nah people love dirty details and it would be more scandalous to record and show good boy Joseph Quinn grabbing ass of a woman for the whole world to see. But they made the video that only hints that his hand goes down to grab her ass, without him to have to do it for real. And 2. That photos of them holding hands. (Like this one: https://ibb.co/k00kV1T). Body language - his fingers are loose, he barely holds her hand while she grabs him tightly. Idk it's just my thoughts, before someone accused me of being jealous: I really don't care who he dates, he's clearly a fuck boy and I couldn't care less about fuck boys. He's a good actor in my opinion and that's why I like him.

From anon