#always coming from people with no reading comprehension too

[anonymousdidsys]

“Kris is an anagram of Frisk without the F, the sixth letter of the alphabet and the first letter in FUN-“ you sound like a parody of yourself

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I would say that the United States, as of right now, has three main food groups (aside from junk food) and those are, Italian, Mexican, and Chinese. All of which have been Americanized here to some extent but differently in different parts of the country. I find this very funny because I have heard people from Italy be indignant about what we’ve done with the stuff (and about good restaurants too!) like, sorry if you guys weren’t creative, mixing things up a bit is great. “What about (regionally popular food)?!” I know we all have those, I haven’t heard of bitches in the south eating lefse, but that’s not my point! What was my point actually? I think I was going to say that, even if we bastardize stuff a lot, I’m super glad we have, as a country, agreed that more seasoning is good. Because if this place had been like “fuck immigrant food forever, we are eating British style” I think I would die.

This country has historically treated immigrants like shit, but we do tend to cave eventually and go like “actually,

your food is really good” a kind of shallow prize I guess, but I’m glad we actually start doing it eventually because I WILL mock British food and I WILL be sad that the only good family recipes my family has from before immigrating are all desserts. Don’t get me wrong, I love sweets, but I’m pretty sure there is a reason we stopped making other stuff

Wait, I re-read this today and realized I sound like my family is British. We are not. What even are British desserts? I bet they don’t have enough cardamom. Although lefse doesn’t have cardamom and i like a lot of things without it, my point is that their holiday and special event foods probably don’t have enough! Which wouldn’t surprise me tbh because apparently the only place that went crazy for the stuff outside of where it originated seems to have been Scandinavia for some reason. At least some maps I looked at seemed to suggest it. Which rocked me to my core

[girlsworldillusion]

I'd let the world burn for you

•

Summary: Amid the severe consequences of war, Aemond finds himself alone, without the presence and support of his young and sweet wife, who insists on staying away from him, afraid of who he has become. He has been a respectful and patient husband. But tonight he feels like he has finally reached his limit.

Author's note: Please, pay attention to the tags. This story contains sensitive topics, such as: +18, SEX, SEVERE INTERNAL CONFLICT, DUB-CON/NON-CON, POSSESSIVE/OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, EMOTIONAL DEPENDENCY, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP AND MORE.

word count: 6k

There is no specific description of which house the reader belongs to, so feel free to fill this in as you wish.

English is not my native language, forgive me for any spelling mistakes.

Good reading!

He can taste vomit in his esophagus.

Aemond knows it wouldn't be too difficult to get out what little he ate. He coughs as discreetly as he can into the back of his hand before taking off his eye patch, wanting to splash some cold water on his face and throat. He pretends not to notice how his hands are a little shaky as he pulls the gloves off of them, cupping his fingers inside the basin left by the servants on the table. The cool water feels refreshing on his hot skin, and with a satisfied hiss, he looks up, staring directly at the reflection of his own face in the mirror.

The flickering flames of the fire near the wall provide no comprehensive illumination, and he is honestly relieved by that. What little he can see is disturbing enough. His single lilac eye is bloodshot, his silver hair is disheveled, so different from normal. Paleness in the face, sunken cheeks. The subtle glow of the blue stone in his other eye and the deep scars around it only add a dying touch to his ghostly visage.

Another deep tug wracks his stomach and he leans forward, gripping the sides of the table with abandon, preparing to actually throw up this time. But nothing comes, nothing but the painful, nauseating feeling in his body.

He can't forget.

It's all his doing, after all. It's all his fault.

The death of all those people, the desolation of the entire Riverlands. It's all his fault.

Any feeling of greatness and power that previously inhabited his body no longer existed. His superiority and confidence swept away by the tide until he was spat out on the shore with nothing but pain and trauma.

He is a hypocrite and he knows it.

Aemond is not a good person. He doesn't want to fool anyone with his anxiety attack, he definitely doesn't need to take on the role of the poor regretful guy. He doesn't regret what he did, he doesn't regret doing what was absolutely necessary for the good of his family. He could never regret this. And he knows that tomorrow, a week from now, or a month from now, he will do exactly the same thing again if necessary. There are no limits to what he is willing to do to and for those to whom he is loyal.

He can't even dare deny liking it all.

When he's on Vhagar's saddle, with the world in flames just beneath them and the addictive power to decide for good or ill for those poor, hopeless souls, he can swear he's never felt anything better. There's something disturbingly liberating about embracing the monster that resides in his chest. It's surprising to him how good it feels to be ruthless, to take on the role of the uncontrollable beast everyone says he is (rightfully so).

It wasn't always like this. But a series of violent and tragic actions that may or may not have been intentional earned Aemond more than just an ominous codename. They gave him respect; fear. Aemond One-Eye, the son without expectations, the child without any prominence. No more.

He feels ruthless when he is in the skies, dictating the fate of humanity. It gives him power. He is powerful now, he is no longer the boy forgotten by everyone. The feeling of being superior pumps hard through his veins until he goes wild, makes him feel like he's crushing people under the soles of his boots. He is more powerful. Their lives depend solely on the way his hand moves and it turns out that, to their misfortune and terror, his hands are wrapped around the saddle of the largest dragon in the world. It is difficult to be sensible and godly when there is so much power at his command. He is more powerful. There is nothing that can stop him. He feels invincible, unstoppable. He doesn't just enjoy it - he worships this feeling.

At least until it's all over.

When the dust settles and all that is left is the consequence of his actions, it is then that he quietly withers away.

He killed them. All of them. His hands are stained with blood and ash and it's all his fault. He has separated families forever, traumatized so many souls with insurmountable depression and pain and it is all his fault. Adults, elderly, children, babies. All dead. Because of him. Hoarse screams of terror and fear, all begging for a mercy that would never come - could never come. Not by his hands. Not when he had a family and a purpose he was so loyal to.

Aemond worships the sense of power that comes with a reputation for being ruthless and regrets nothing he has done and will do for his duty. Unfortunately, this does not mean that he does not suffer the consequences in equal proportion.

Another sigh. He drops his head and presses his fingers against the edge of the table. He closes his eye so tightly that patches of white light explode into his vision, each labored breath makes him lean forward and clench his teeth. The pain is impossible to ignore – it shakes his insides, leaves his limbs trembling.

"Is this hurting you?" a soft voice asks, a small, fragile thing, almost impossible to hear - if it weren't for the fact that he lives to hear the sound of that voice. He knows this, and so does the owner of the voice, both fully aware of this dangerous dependence. “Pretending to be a God, I mean.”

Aemond feels his heart beat faster, the angelic sound of your voice rescuing him from the merciless depths of his own mind, making him slowly raise his head as he stares at the place where the voice came from. He almost can't believe what he heard. But there you are, sitting on your bed, surrounded by comfortable sheets and pillows, your wide doe eyes catching the moonlight and fire flames in the dark of night, shining like stars.

His sweet wife.

He simply looks at you, not offering any kind of response right away. Not because he doesn't want to. But because he's too surprised to hear your voice and see your face to form words at the moment. Aemond doesn't know how he ended up here, in your private chambers - the place he hasn't been welcome in for some time. He was supposed to go to his chambers. Was he that distraught and distracted? Could the confusion clouding his senses have unconsciously led him directly to the person he needs most at the moment?

He looks around quickly just to confirm that, yes, there is no doubt that he is in your chambers. He didn't intend to do that. He shouldn't be here, invading your privacy and ignoring your request that he keep distance. Of course, his longing and need for you made him consider such a thing countless times. Regardless of your wishes, he was your husband; he had a right to be here. But he never did that. You don't want him in your bed anymore and you've made that clear. And Aemond was not ignorant or even insensitive enough to pretend not to understand your reasons. You had a lot of them and he knows.

You were not made for cruelty. Your innocence and purity made you unable to be aware of the horrible things he did and still treat him the same way as before. You were afraid of him now, just like everyone else. The blood of many was on his hands and you knew it, just as you knew he regretted nothing, and that he would not stop this - not until victory was achieved.

You didn't agree with that, you never did, not even before the marriage. But what could a young woman do in the world they lived in? You were just a piece on a board game, an ace up his sleeve used by your father specifically to provide armies and loyalty to the crown in exchange for a marriage and a more than convenient name for your family.

Aemond knew from the beginning that you didn't want to marry him; how could you after all? You barely knew him beyond the questionable reputation that surrounded him, and a dangerous family clash was about to break out in the kingdom - this was definitely not the right environment for romance to blossom. But you did your duty. You had been an exemplary wife in the short two months of peace that followed your marriage. You treated him with respect and patience, slowly opening your heart to him with each passing day. He wasn't the most talkative or the most sensitive husband and yet you showed empathy for his limitations, accepting what he gave you with gentle smiles and rosy cheeks, without demanding anything more. So sweet. So inocent.

It was no surprise the feeling that welled up in his chest.

Aemond was obsessed before he even realized it. Needing your gentle attentions like a flower needs the sun. He clung to you as his only comfort in an almost bleak existence, he became more and more obsessed with you and you didn't notice. You read with him, walked through the gardens with him and talked to him as you always did, kind and polite. And every day he felt hungrier, pushing the limits of restraint. You welcomed him into your bed every night, welcoming him between your legs as if he belonged there - and he did, indeed. Aemond's appetite for you and you alone knew no bounds.

But he wasn't the man you married anymore, was he?

You fear him now, any and all advances he's made with you over the past few months have vanished into thin air like the ashes he's so used to seeing now. The feelings he was carefully cultivating in your chest now seem to have sunk so deep into your being that he thinks they no longer even exist. You no longer craved his attention; the touch of softness and affection, whenever “husband” dripped from your mouth, was absent. And now all he could do was want.

Aemond doesn't look away from you, not wanting to miss this moment for anything, not after being deprived of it for so long. And you look back at him from where you sit on the bed, chin lifted in false courage. You looks at him with your bright eyes and high cheekbones, which seem even more highlighted in the warm lighting around your bodies.

He may have entered your chambers out of pure unconscious instinct, out of nothing but silent desperation. His body guiding him when his mind no longer could. But now that he's here, he doesn't know how he didn't realize it from the beginning. It's impossible to think about anything other than you. You, you, you.

At this point, deaths at his hands no longer existed. Not his pains or the weights he carries, not revenge, not duty. Anything. Absolutely nothing. There is only this moment, between him, a boy who so wanted to be enough for those he loves and the young girl who is illuminated by the light of the flames.

He feels it. It's not new. That strange impulse that draws all the attention of the environment around him to you and you alone; an almost painful need between his teeth to take a bite and not let go, to have it with all your heart and nothing less.

"Nothing to say?" You press and he's not even embarrassed by the fact that he doesn't remember what you said before. He should leave. It's all he thinks, even as he takes an uncertain step closer to your bed. And that's enough for you to immediately tense up, wrapping your small hands in the sheets to subtly pull them towards you. You are hiding yourself. Hiding yourself from him.

Aemond should leave, continue respecting your limits.

If this had been another night, maybe he would have done it. If the smell of smoke and dragon scales hadn't been trapped in the leather of his war clothes, as well as the dust of ash, then perhaps he could have left. If he couldn't smell the insistent scent of charred bodies and decimated land in his nostrils, taking permanent root in his lungs, perhaps he could respect your innocence.

Not even Aemond knew how on edge he already was. Your refusal of his proximity was just the final push to his downfall.

He adores you. He worships the ground you walk on. He respected your decisions and stayed away much longer than any other husband would have done. And this is how you repay him?

Aemond narrows the only functional eye he has left. You don't react, nothing more than another protective grip on the sheets and a slow swallow of saliva. He wants you so much and the thought enrages him. Why? Why does he feel this way? He desperately wants to punish you for making him feel this way. He wants to punish himself for even thinking about doing this to you.

You left him like this; nothing but a mess. When would you finally accept him for who he is? When would you understand that some cruelties were necessary for the final goal to be achieved? When would you see that everything he did and would do was solely for his family? For you. To keep you safe. When would he be enough?

He grits his teeth and feels his entire body tense with thoughts. He hates it; he hates the way you confuse him and make him feel all these terrible emotions. It makes he feels weak. The temptation of the slightest chance of your affection suffocates his common sense. He feels his hands shaking. He'd been so blinded by the hopeful, innocent vision he constantly saw you through that he fooled himself into thinking he was on your mind as much as you were on his all this time.

"Aemond?" You whisper, sounding more uncertain than before, disturbed by his extended silence as he slowly approaches the bed. He keeps looking at you the whole time, letting you glimpse the flames of fire reflected in the icy sapphire in his eye. He adores you, with every fiber of his being. But the flash of fear that shines in your eyes in response makes him stretch the corner of his lip in a malicious smile. He couldn't help it, there's something sweet and pure about you that makes him constantly waver between wanting to protect you and wanting to destroy you.

You try not to weaken before him, but Aemond immediately notices the way your body is a little trembling when his hand, that same hand that drags the musk of leather and death, passes through the fabric of the sheets, spreading lightning over your legs. You don't stop him, but your eyes flash with a frightened warning, a warning he ignores tonight. His palm flattens against your ribs, daring to caress, to feel the linen of the sheets beneath his fingers, the softness of your flesh beneath it, and you squeak an off-key sound, pulling the cocoon of blankets and furs up to hide you.

A small annoyed growl leaves his lips and his other hand quickly covers yours, stopping you from continuing.

"No. Enough of that." He says in a low but firm tone, looking sternly into your eyes. You part your lips, surprised by his behavior, and try to pull the hand still trapped by his, but he doesn't let you go. "That's enough, wife."

He thinks you might try to deny it, but you fall silent, slowly relaxing against his grip on your hand. Aemond wants to purr at this, wants to praise you and spoil you, because you are so good, so good. His good girl. Even when you're crushing his heart between your delicate hands.

It's not your fault, he tells himself. It's not your fault that he's obsessed with you, driven crazy by the idea of you. Aemond can't even focus properly, even when you're in front of him, defenseless and at the mercy of his whims. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest from pure ecstasy and excitement at the same time. And he can feel, on top of it all, the blood flowing to his hard cock, making it swell beneath his black riding pants. He feels embarrassed by his actions, but at the same time excited, just by the little things you do, by everything you are to him.

“Something is wrong with me...” He says, more to himself than to you, gently pushing a strand of your soft hair behind your ear, sliding his thumb in a gentle caress across your delicate earlobe. “You're in my house. You're in my house and I don't want you to leave. Never." He approaches your face, sliding his fingers from your ear to the side of your face, until he holds your small chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I need you." He continues, ignoring how honest and frank he looks - weak. “I keep thinking of ways to make this happen,” the more he talks, the faster you breathe, sweet little sighs near his lips, calling to him like a siren’s song… “I want to ruin you. Because I think that's the only way you won't leave me."

The intensity of his words scares you, he realizes, he sees how your eyes fill with tears and your eyebrows twitch. But even in the dim lighting of the flames, he can see how the tops of your cheeks turn red, how your chest trembles with the breath that catches there...you want him.

It's a shame you're so willing to keep him away.

But he can't stop.

Aemond closes the distance in an instant, pushing you down until he traps your body beneath his, feeling the contours of your soft, supple curves against him; he shudders. He caresses your face one last time before moving down, ignoring your hesitation and your useless efforts to push him away. Quick as a viper, he grabs the hand that moves to push against his chest, wrapping it with the other still attached to his, holding your wrists tightly above your head.

You cry out at the pressure on his wrists, the long lashes over your eyes fluttering, pleading. "A-Aemond, what are you doing?" you stutter. "Please, please... I said I needed it - please give me some more-"

"Time? Oh yes, you said it." He hums thoughtfully, placing a thigh between your legs, dipping his face into the crook of your neck to breathe in the fresh fragrance of your shower, snoring contentedly with your naturally sweet scent. Intoxicated by your scent, he trails his lips along the slender column of your neck before stopping at the shell of your ear. “I’m so sorry, dear, I’ve waited too long. We’ve both waited too long.” He intones, intoxicated by your presence. You sob once but don't say anything else, choosing to turn your face away from him. Aemond snorts a laugh at that, but doesn't stop you, preferring to leave a tender, wet kiss on your cheek.

Squeezing your wrists with one hand, he allows the other to slide slowly down your body, almost reverentially. He paused at the delicate laces holding the front of your nightdress before untying them with deft fingers. The front opens, exposing your silky, flushed skin to his hungry gaze. He doesn't have the patience to remove the fabric completely from your body, so he just lowers it enough so that your breasts are exposed. He bites his lip, holding a curse between his clenched teeth. When he presses his bare palm to your perky breasts, he tastes your trembling innocence, your soft flesh.

So beautiful.

So pure.

From the beginning you were his opposite, your delicate hands, as irritatingly clean as his are stained with blood and ash.

As much as he truly suffers from the consequences of his actions, he never regrets them, because he knows they are right - necessary. There was only the future to shape, the past should stay where it belongs; behind him. Something he had learned through much pain, but unfortunately, his sweet wife had not yet. But as he runs his greedy fingers down your body, feeling the goosebumps on your soft skin with each touch, Aemond knows he scares you as much as he excites you. You can't hide it from him. Your obviously involuntary response to him only makes him fiercer, hungrier. He wants to ruin you from the inside, until you can't bear to live a single day without his touch.

He allows you to continue your theatrics, still stubbornly staring at the wall while pretending his actions don't affect you. There's something almost too tempting about it, in fact; It's a matter of honor for him. He will break your masks and he will take pleasure in doing so.

Letting his fingers slide down your sides, Aemond's lips wander. He kisses the hole in your throat, moving down with wet, licked breaths to your breasts, tasting you. You gasp softly and grip tight fists on the bed sheets when he captures a soft nipple with a slow suck of lips and a teasing scrape of teeth, your body curling beneath him tightly. He smiles with your nipple still between his lips, leaving wide, warm trails of his tongue on the little perky bud. His hips slide against the inside of your parted thighs, pushing the hardened bulge in his pants against your pussy once.

You bite your lip and close your eyes, but he doesn't stop. With another thrust he uses his strength to push you back onto the bed, the bed you shared many nights with him, to fuck you into the warm sheets. It's almost too much for him to finally feel your little pussy once again, even through the leather of his pants and your delicate nightwear. But he continues with slow, strong thrusts, rubbing his cock against you in a way that teases your clit, the smell and heat of his effort wafting throughout his body; sweat, dragon, fire, ash, blood, death - all mixed together, merging with your own sweet, intoxicating scent and, of course, the unmistakable scent of sex.

Before the chaos broke out, Aemond was quite skilled at this, at driving you crazy. A part of him is extraordinarily pleased to find that he still remembers correctly, especially when a press of his fingers and a twirl of his thumb on your slobbery nipple makes you gasp. He wants to see you, to see you blush and sweat, looking ruined for him. Gods, oh yes, Aemond wants this so much. He can't stop, he can never stop, especially with you singing so sweetly to him. When you arch into his touch and whisper his name softly, like a secret no one can discover, his breath hitching. Aemond can't stop.

A specific thrust makes you let out a high-pitched meow, your hands pulling at the linen on the sheets and he moans along, releasing your breast with a wet pop to look at your face. You have your lips parted, your long eyelashes touching the top of your cheeks, your eyebrows furrowed in sweet agony. He thrusts a little faster, rubbing your clit with more pressure, taking in your presence and the feeling of your tiny, supple body, preening at every sound that leaves your lips.

Sounds so sweet, so beautiful; he considers himself a sinner with the way something so innocent and angelic makes his blood boil and his cock throb with need inside his pants, surely soaking the fabric with the way he feels himself leaking.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me, baby...”

And yet, he doesn't think he cares about dying by your hands when things turn out like this. He is admitting defeat without any embarrassment now; he can bear the dull weight of war, he can bear his own mind trying to destroy him at every turn, he can bear the betrayal of his own family and the demands of his duties. He can bear with anything.

Anything except being without you.

With an impatient grunt, his fingers tug at the soft skirt of your nightdress, bunching the thing at your waist as he rips your underwear down your legs. You don't try to stop him, but you don't try to help him either, remaining almost motionless against the bed, and he feels like he can growling at you like an animal for that - stubborn girl. He hates and loves this about you in equal intensity. He's almost rough and punishing as he hooks the back of your knee into the inside of his elbow, pushing your leg up to your breasts. And then you're giving up your fight, sighing - all anxious expression, furrowing your eyebrows and biting your lip as he hurriedly unzips his pants and pulls them down just enough to pull his cock out, slamming the wet, throbbing head over your clit before sliding his entire length along your folds.

You moan, he moans. The slide is wet and he can't tell if it's all you, if it's all him, if it's all both. He doesn't care, honestly. All that matters is how his cock is thrusting into your heat, hitting your clit with luscious pokes, coaxing more of those sweet sounds from your pretty lips.

He hooks your other leg in the crook of his elbow and does exactly what he did with the other, trapping you between him and the bed in a position where your entire pussy is presented to him. With his hands flat beside your head, he brings his face closer to yours, the leather covering his chest pushing your knees further into your breasts. You moan through your teeth, unable to do anything but tighten your hands around his shoulders. He smiles slowly, drunk on the sensations, still gently sliding the length of his cock into your folds.

Aemond doesn't look away from you, enchanted by the way you dance between looking at the sapphire stone and the deep lilac of his functional eye. You've always done this, he thinks - saying one was as beautiful as the other, impossible to choose.

“I’m giving myself to you, love…I’m yours.” He whispers softly, husky, needy to you. "Will you do the same from now on?"

He’s so close he feel how your heart races violently at his words, slamming against your ribcage as you take a deep breath. Every expression on your flushed face makes him sure you're going to have an intense crying fit, but even when the liquid in your eyes pours down the side of your eyes, you keep yourself almost in one piece. You look deeply into his eye as your shoulders shake. "Y-yes." You exhale, fragile. “Yes, yes, yes,” your voice sings repeatedly, with quick, confused nods, tears streaming from your eyes.

He can't hold back the husky sound that leaves his lips, his cock pulsing in reaction to your obvious fragility exposed to him.

"Yeah?" He asks breathlessly and it's very slow - as he thrusts inside you, thrusting his hips back and forth once, twice, three times until your pussy swallows as much of his cock as it can, until the tip of his hip bones rub it against your thighs. And it's so intense, so obscene – the position he puts you in, the full weight of his body pinning you to the bed, broad shoulders hiding you from view, silver hair like a curtain around the two of you, your mouth falling open in a silent scream and his releasing small curses between clenched teeth... debauchery.

You give his shoulders a few desperate slaps as he fills you, your tight ring of muscle stretched to accommodate his girth, and no matter how long it takes him to prepare you, no matter how wet you are, he knows there's always that initial pain that rips through your groin as he pushes into you. It makes you sway beneath him, little tearful sobs that are like the sweetest song to him.

Another curse muttered in deep Valyrian was his only warning as his palms sink into the softness of the bed. Your own hands looking desperate too, one tangled in the silver base of his hair at the back of his neck and the other gripping the material of his leather shirt, a strangled moan catching in your throat as he begins to fuck you slowly. You can only hold on as he pulls and pushes his body above you with each deep thrust, his impatience shown only in the forceful and violent way in which his hands grip the bed sheets.

He leans into you a little more, moving his hips in different ways, testing the angles until he makes more of those tears well up in your eyes as your pleasure increases almost painfully. Your moans quickly turn into babbling when a particularly strong movement of his hips makes you shake all over. The way your tight pussy tries to contain him and suck him in at the same time drives him crazy, feral.

He won't last long. He already knew this before it even started, but now, feeling your walls squeezing the life out of him after so long deprived of it, with your cute little noises getting louder and louder, with your expression drunk with lust and sadness, the buzz of battle still vibrating through his veins... Aemond feels release approaching shamefully fast for him.

He'll make it up to you later, Aemond promises himself. When the hot need subsides at least a little in his system, he'll take off his dirty war clothes, maybe ask you to take a shower with him. He'll soap your body and tease you until you're riding his cock in the tub at your own pace, his fingers rolling your little clit with each bounce of your hips. He will lay you on the bed and love every inch of your soft body, worship your skin with kisses and hickeys. He will part your thighs and bury his fingers and tongue in your wet softness. He will rip orgasm after orgasm out of you until you are hoarse from screaming, until your body is physically unable to continue.

He will do it all.

He has done it in the past, many times.

Now, however, all he needs is to find his release, to unload those months of forced distance inside his trembling body. But Aemond will be damned if he doesn't bring you along with him.

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, pushing your legs against your body further, lips parting with hoarse, breathless moans that escaped him with each thrust and the sweet pleas you murmured incoherently. The movement of his hips quickens, one hand leaving its blunt grip on the sheets to squeeze between your thighs, poking your clit in tight circles, his cock hitting a spot inside your walls that makes you shiver and tremble in anticipation.

“Aemond…” you cry, digging your nails into the back of his neck, pulling his body towards yours, as if you weren’t already physically as close as possible.

He growls at your plea.

“My little, innocent wife,” Aemond giggles wildly as your pussy clamps down on his length again, your climax approaching, his thumb rotating a steady rhythm on your clit. If only your mind was clear enough to form a coherent thought, maybe you'd complain that the rhythm of his cock in your pussy would be painful, that the continuous and harsh scratching of his clothes hurts the soft and delicate flesh of your body, but you don't say anything, not now. You just accept what he gives you. And he knows you missed him as much as he missed you. “Always so good to me baby.”

Aemond watches you intently, unable to look away from the pleasure that shows on your face. You're shaking, lost in your wet breaths and high-pitched, broken cries, your legs trapped between his body, welcoming him. You're tight and small, his sweet wife, and Aemond can feel your cracks stretching, a spider's web of fractured thought and temptation too much for anyone to bear, and as much as he knows it's impossible, he wants this moment to last forever. Aemond is undone. A fool in love. And it's sad. And it's beautiful. It's being at home.

"Mine." His murmur echoes next to your lips, both of you breathing each other's breath, his rhythm starting to falter, the searing heat rushing through his body beneath those layers of heavy clothing makes him dizzy, but he doesn't stop, he doesn't stop. “So pure, so beautiful, so delicate…” he caresses your clit without faltering with a rumbling purr as his cock swells inside you. “Ngh...oh fuck, so tight. You're going to get everything, aren't you, darling? All of me.” His own teeth graze your neck as you arch and scream in pleasure. “Be a good girl and don't let anything leak, hmmm…”

He fucks you roughly, your name dancing on his lips like a prayer in the dark. Aemond savors this moment with the veneration it deserves, the final chase. The two of you so broken, so vulnerable, shaking with pleasure for each other. He rubs your pussy, hips slamming into you at lightning speed.

And finally, gods yes, it finally happens.

"Aemond! A-Aemond, please! Please-" You throw your head back, your lewd pleas turning into a broken scream as you explode around him. Your face is flushed and glistening with a subtle sheen of sweat, tears streaming down. It's all he can take. You convulse and break and the sensation of his cock swelling with the resulting explosions of hot cum filling you follows shortly after. As your body and pussy tremble and clench, he finally releases his own pleasure, biting down hard on your shoulder to muffle his husky moans, spilling himself deep inside you, the continuous spasms of your orgasm milking every drop from him. You and he cum together, and even in the hazy haze of climax, he thinks he's never experienced something so sublime, so perfect.

You're both shaking as you come down from the waves of mutual pleasure, and Aemond is especially careful now, gently unfolding your legs from that tight position to allow you to stretch them, which earns him a long, grateful, relieved moan. He slowly pulls away until he's kneeling between your thighs, watching raptly as you bite your lip as his cock leaves your heat. A tight grip circles around your parted thighs, lifting them up a little to expose your dripping pussy. He looks almost in awe as he watches his seed flow steadily from your abused pussy.

But Aemond is selfish and his cum doesn't belong on the crumpled, sweaty sheets. No, he told you to keep it safe inside you and that's what would happen. His fingers slip into the wet mess of cum in your folds, pushing as gently as he can all the thick liquid inside you again.

You're too tired to react, but you still sob softly at the sensation, subtly squirming on the bed, legs shaking from being held in the same position for so long. He looks at you, icy lilac gaze half-lidded with lust, blue stone glowing in the flames of the fire. He looks at the soft, creamy flesh of your sweaty body. He longs to see dark spots and bite marks, a way of proving that you belong to him. He lifts his head, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, just above your left breast. His teeth leave crescent moons on your skin and you scream loudly at the stinging sensation, but you don't stop him. He walks away, admiring the constellations he had traced on your skin. Painting you for him, marking you as something unique to him.

You sniffle and blink wet eyelashes at him. He kisses his bite, murmuring gentle words to you, his lips trailing up with soft sucks and wet kisses in your throat until he brushes against your lips. And it's then, and only then, that he realizes he hasn't kissed you yet. He doesn't know why he didn't do it, given that it's probably the thing he misses most about you. Feeling the softness of your lips on his, the gradual way a small, innocent kiss quickly evolves into something more urgent, the way you immediately struggle to keep up with his pace, his hunger as he swallows your cute sighs and your ragged breaths as he suck your tongue.

Yes. This is what Aemond longs for. How easily he could make you fall apart in his hands.

Taking into account the way that you blush and look down at his lips, you're thinking the same thing. He smiles mischievously, slowly leaning in for a deep kiss, fingers damp with your juices and his cum resting on your jawline. Your little hands sink into his hair until you lightly scrapes your nails across his scalp, making Aemond shudder. The fingers of his other hand cup your hip, tracing the line of the bone in gentle patterns. His nose bumps yours as his tongue dances in your hot mouth, spreading in you the taste of smoke and revenge that seems to follow him at absolutely every moment now. And like his perfect antithesis, you gasp, let him savor your sweet, fruity flavor - so fuckin sweet.

Your legs circle his waist, making him press against your heat, quickly reigniting the flame of need within him. You lick it off his tongue, moan when he sucks your bottom lip and bites it, you beg between quick breaths and Aemond continues to rub himself against you, the kiss becoming sloppier, driving him crazy with how irresistible you are in this state. You give yourself completely to Aemond, without asking questions or making new complaints, and it drives him crazy.

"You are mine. Only mine. And you will never leave me again, do you understand?" He murmurs as he pulls away, both of you panting, looking seriously into your water-bright eyes, noting how they're a little wide and your mouth is swollen and wet from his kisses.

A few tears slide down your face, but you smile shakily at him, the hand in his hair stroking the silver strands lovingly.

"I am yours, Aem. Now and forever." Honesty bleeds into your shallow voice, your little fingers on your other hand tentatively tangling with the buckles of his shirt to open it.

Aemond rests his forehead against yours and truly smiles for the first time in a long, long time. Not a malicious, mocking or condescending smile... No, this time his lips are stretched into a small, but genuine, honest smile.

And it's because of you.

Because he knows he got what he wanted so much. He has you again. He was resilient, he was patient and he was fair. He fought and, with his efforts, created a space just for himself within your heart. He knows you're still unhappy with everything that's going on, and no matter how much he wants to, he can't change that. He can only strengthen you to bear it. It can only burrow deeper into your body and your heart until you are able to forget the atrocities that are happening around you - the horrible things that he is doing. It's a gaping hole in your chest that leaves you continually bleeding, he knows, but the exposed cut is so sweet, and here he is, licking the wound like an animal, with all the violent, relentless gentleness he has to offer as the vengeful prince that he is.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing his cock back into your abused pussy in a deep movement that draws a broken sound from both of you, pulling you against his chest. He rubs his sweaty face against your throat, your face, your hair. His voice syrupy and thick as he whispers, "I love you."

Fuck. Aemond would never let you go.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Boom Clap (The sound of my heart)

Hi guys!

This is a second one from the world "Lia & The Firefighter" but you don't have to read it before reading this one. They are related but not like a serie, I don't know if it make sense 😂

It was from an ask so I hope you will be happy with this one, dear anon ♥

Please enjoy!

TW : Firefighter job, injury, blood, fire.

Girl on Fire is the other One Shot of the Serie.

Also the hottie on the right picture is @ylenia94riniti on Instagram.

You like to say that you know Lia by heart and that you can understand her moods and her thoughts really quickly. It’s usually right to be honest, she has almost no secrets for you. But it has to be said that the contrary is right too.

You were already working as a firefighter when you met her and by time she learned to know when you have a bad day. Or when you try to hide something to her, like the fact you almost fall of a bridge while rescuing someone. She knows it’s to protect her but sometimes she hates how you can be so selfless about yourself and your health. Because of that, she takes care of you like she could, making you meal or massive sandwiches to take with you when you are working and being sure that you always have everything you want at her home. Of course, you told her that it’s not what matters to you, but she just glares at you and don’t answer anything.

Today started like always. You waked up and went for a run, then took a shower before going to wake Lia up. Then you had your breakfast together and Lia went to training while you were leaving for work. When you are working during the day, that is usually how you organize your day. After work you find each other at your house, or at Lia’s, to enjoy a night together. Or you go to watch Lia play, it depends on the schedule.

You had several interventions during the day, but nothing really surprising. Then, less than one hour before you finish your day, the alarm sound in the fire station and like your colleagues, you take your things and run to the truck.

While they are driving you there, you learn about the situation very little by little. At the end, you understand that the case is a massive fire in a commercial center, but you don’t know how many people are hurt, if you will be needed inside to evacuate people or somewhere in or around the building to fight the fire.

It’s your job anyway and you have to do it. You don’t really like the moment just before the action, it makes you nervous. When you are in, you are focused and do your things. Now, while you are finishing your RedBull, your mind is racing.

“Alright Y/L/N?”

“Yeah” you only answer.

Your Commander smirks softly and pat your arm. He knows you very well, he was the one being your instructor during your first months at the fire station. He’s still the one scolding you when you need to be.

Your mind went to Lia when you look at the clock, only to realize that she must be at the end of her training. You were supposed to have a casual night in, but you know that she won’t pout if you are coming home later. She’s way more comprehensive that you had ever hope.

But you aren’t able to think about your girlfriend for too long. Soon you arrive at the commercial center, and you understand that you didn’t understand how chaotic all of this would be. There are ambulances everywhere, people are running around. There are screams, cry, people calling each other. But you have to ignore all of that to stay focused.

You follow the order of your Commander, going to help where he asks you to. When he asks you to manage a team for him, you do it without a second thought. You help the medical teams when they need to, and you help to extinguish the fire when you are called for it.

“Where does it come from?” you ask-shout your Commander at one point.

“We don’t know for now. They are talking about putting some of us inside to find it.”

You nod before focusing on your team again and continue to work. You have lost any idea of the time since you are here, but it doesn’t matter for now. The sky is way less clear when your Commander comes to you again, grabbing your arm to have your attention.

“They ask me to give my best men to go inside the building and look where the fire comes from” he says to you.

You don’t roll your eyes like you would love to, you hate the fact that they are talking about “men” and not “people” or “firefighter”.

“Understood, Sir” you answer with a straight face.

He smiles softy, understanding very easily what you are thinking. But he doesn’t comment it, choosing to continue what he needs to say to you.

“I told them that you were the best. So you will go inside with a team I’ll manage from outside, with talkie walkie and a camera that you will have on your helmet. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir”

He looks at you for several seconds before nodding.

“Take some minutes to rest inside our truck, cool off, drink some water and eat something. Do something to change your mind. I’m coming in twenty minutes to give you your other uniform.”

“Yes, Sir” you answer once again.

He then makes you sign to go, and you oblige. You are happy to take your uniform off, breathing completely some oxygen without smoke. Like he requests, you drink a bottle of water, eat a banana and cereal bare. You use a little bit of water to wash your face and go to the toilets. Then you try to remember what he asked you to do.

Rest, drink water, eat something, change your mind.

You didn’t change your mind.

Biting your lip, you take your phone and wonder some seconds if it’s really a good idea. But then you decide to ignore your thoughts and press the call button.

It rings three times before Lia picks up.

“Hello?”

You have to clear your voice before talking.

“Hi, Cookie. It’s me.”

“Is everything okay?”

You can hear the concern in her voice. Maybe it wasn’t really a good idea to call her, it was probably selfish of you.

“Yeah hum, I will come late at home, I think. Maybe don’t wait for me and go to bed. Or maybe you can go to Leah?”

“She’s not home tonight, but I’ll be fine by myself, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry for cancelling our night.”

“Don’t, it’s ok, really. I understand Pookie. Of course I would rather being with you, but I’m far from mad, yeah?” she says, her voice softer than ever.

You nod and there is a little silence. You would rather for her to be with someone, you know she will be less worried if she’s with one of her friend. You wonder what Lia is thinking about.

“You promise me that everything is fine?” she asks again.

“Yeah, I… I just wanted to hear your voice”

You can’t see your girlfriend, but you are almost sure that she’s rolling her eyes right now. It makes you smile softly.

“Do you remember the only time when you tried to hide me something?”

“Of course I do” you smile.

Flashback

It was stupid of you. Both wanting to hide your injury and your injury itself. It was at the beginning of your relationship with Lia, you were officially together for four months, even if you started dating for six months now.

When you took the call, you didn’t expect things to go that way, to be honest. It was just a fight between two group of teenagers, nothing you couldn’t handle. It’s one of the first things you learned to manage, so you didn’t really thing twice before going and getting involved in this story.

Still while resting at your place, of course, your superiors are here and you won’t take their job.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” your Commander asks some teenagers.

They probably are like 16 or 17, like your little brother. Even if he is probably at school right now.

You hear several of them talking animatedly to him, explaining what the point in this fight is. You don’t understand a lot to be honest, but it seems to be a fight during two groups on the same neighborhood. When they mention that the other group is hiding somewhere and waiting for them, your Commander sighs.

“Ok, I’ll call the police” he says, before turning in your direction. “Y/L/N, Scott, go have a look around please.”

You nod and follow the instructions, looking behind you to be sure that Scott is following you. He is. You don’t mind being in front of the two when you realize after having waited for him that he doesn’t want to be next to you. You don’t care, even if you don’t know really good this place.

You are scanning the area, trying to learn some things from here when someone shout at you from the other side. It seems to you that the voice comes from the height of a building, and you are looking for it before feeling an awful pain next to your ribs.

Several hours later, you are coming home. You groan when you see that Lia’s car is here, meaning that she is waiting for you inside. You are always thrilled to have her, but not tonight. You however put a big smile on your face when she smiles at you when you enter your house.

“Hi, Beautiful” you great her with a big smile and a kiss on her cheek.

She’s sitting on a stool in your kitchen, and you can see that she cooked something behind her. You keep a straight face when she passes her arms around your waist.

“I made us chicken creamy pasta, is that ok?” she asks, following your gaze.

“It’s perfect. Do you mind if I take a shower before eating?”

“Of course not” she smiles.

You kiss her forehead and her lips several times before going to the bathroom adjoining your bedroom. You close the door softly behind you and immediately let yourself go against the door, relieved not to have to hide your pain anymore.

You quickly get rid of your shirt and went to face the mirror. The cut you received while being stabbed earlier today isn’t very deep, but it still hurt like a bitch. You didn’t want to go to the hospital, you gave yourself the care it needed in your opinion, but maybe some painkiller won’t be a bad idea.

You sigh when you realize that you are bleeding again. Scott saw what happened and call your Commander even if you told him not to. You are ashamed of how you got hurt, to be honest. It was a stupid injury made stupidly by a stupid person.

You wince with pain when you press some compress on your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. You still pressing against it while hiding the bloody bandage who were covering your wound until now, not wanting for Lia to find them. You don’t want to worry her. You must have taken way more time than you thought because soon Lia is knocking on the door.

“Are you ok in here?” Lia asks softly.

“Yeah. I’m coming” you answer, grimacing again while putting another bandage on your body.

You really hope that Lia wasn’t thinking about having some naughty activities tonight.

After that you take a very quick shower and went to your room to put some fresh underwear with a jogging and a black top tank, in case you start bleeding again, you won’t scare your girlfriend to death.

“Sorry I took so long” you excuse yourself to Lia when you meet her again in the kitchen.

You pass your arm around her waist this time, very careful not to touch your injury with her body.

“No worries. Should we eat now?”

You nod, trying to help her dress the table but she’s faster than you are. You roll your eyes playfully but let her do it, happy to see her so at ease in your house. It’s pretty early in your relationship but you are so in love with her. You still feel like you need to be careful with her though, not wanting to scare her. She never seemed to be against your job, but you both decided that you will not talk to her about what you are seeing during your days. At first you thought that it was because she will be maybe disgusted by things, but you realized some weeks before that it was because she is scared for you.

“It’s delicious Babe” you praise her.

You smile when you see her blushing and you grab her hand softly to intervenes your fingers. You ask her about her day and listen to her with attention. You met her friends some time ago and you are able to put a face on every name. You have to admit that you go to watch her play every time you can too.

After the dinner you decided to watch a movie and let Lia chose something. Cuddling with her is usually your favorite moment of the day, but you realize very quickly that you will have trouble to find a good position.

You finally pass your leg on Lia’s, your hand around her stomach and put your face on her shoulder. All of that while she’s sitting with her leg extended on the long part of your L couch.

“Comfy?” she asks.

You nod and don’t see her smile because of your position, but you feel her kiss your head, and you rub your face softly against her hoody. During the movie, you can feel her fingertip drawing the tattoos on your arm and for once you really want for her to keep her arm here. She just has to pass it under your tank and you’re screwed.

“You’re tense, Pookie” she whispers when there only is twenty minutes of the movie.

“Am I?”

You are. You are a ball of nerves and when Lia hums before searching your lips for a kiss it’s even worse. But you kiss her softly, stroking her face with your thumb.

“It just was a long day” you say before kissing her cheek and resume your position.

Lia doesn’t push it, holding your tighter against her. Your injury is pounding and you can’t wait to take another painkiller, stronger this one maybe. You didn’t went to the hospital, so you don’t have any prescriptions. You try to steady your breathing, jaw a little more tense than usual.

It’s a relief when the movie is finished, but you can’t jump on your feet and just run to the bathroom. In fact, the make out session you have with Lia after it almost make you forget your state. Until you see your girlfriend frown softly.

“Why are you wet here?” she frowns, looking at your stomach.

You frown too and automatically put a hand where your wound is. Fuck. Your tank is indeed damp. And when you remove your hand, it’s red.

“Y/N?! What the fuck!”

You don’t know if you are more stunned about the blood or your girlfriend’s dirty word.

Long story short, she takes you to the hospital without you saying anything. She scowled you for almost ten minutes after you saw the doctor and you felt like a little child. But since that moment, you never hide this kind of things to her.

“I’m not lying though, I really just wanted to hear your voice” you point softly.

Lia hums before talking again.

“Are you at the fire station?”

“No”

“Are… Are you at the commercial center?”

“Y/N!”

You jump when you hear your commander’s voice. You turn to see him coming for you. Was it twenty minutes already?

“I have to go, Cookie. See you soon yeah?”

“Yes. Be safe, please?”

“Promise. I love you, Lia.”

“I love you too.”

You hang up and raise your eyes on your commander. He’s smirking at you but doesn’t say anything. He likes Lia a lot, they met several times, and he told you that you couldn’t have found a better match. You are agreeing with him about it. Lia has everything you were looking for.

“You could have said to here I say hi.”

“I will next time, Sir.”

You are smiling softly too. It’s probably the first time since you left the fire station. It finally was a good thing to have call her, you feel a little more focused and calmer. You follow your Chief where you are waited and start to take the instructions. What you have to do is clear in your mind.

You take the lead of the other firefighters and go inside the mall. Everything is blurry and probably hot, but you don’t feel anything thanks to your new uniform.

Following what was told to you, you advance slowly but are looking around for your safety and of course, you have to find where the fire comes from. You don’t see anything for now, the fire is on another level. After sharing this information, you go to the floor above you.

You take some minutes there too, the heath is getting hotter and you are sure that you are getting closer to the source of the problem. There is only the sound of the fire, but it was until a shrill whistle catch your attention.

“Wait. They cutted the gas, right?” you ask around to the four other men who are with you.

“They told us they did” one of them confirms you.

“Please ask for a confirmation. Until you have it, don’t move.”

The man who answered you take his talkie-walkie to exchanged with the team outside while you take the direction of the sound. It really sounds like a gas leak but it’s hard to find the right place with all the other noises around. You are so concentrated that you almost jump out your skin when you hear one of the men calling you.

“Y/L/N we have to get out! They forgot that part of the building!”

At the same time, you find the source of the whistle, and it doesn’t look good.

Shit.

“I’m fine for fuck’s sake, leave me alone!”

You are sitting on a hospital bed, an oxygen mask on your face and two doctors around you, trying to make you hear reason. Your Commander is here too, seeming to have the time of his life.

“Miss, please lie down” one of them says.

You groan in exasperation. You were still inside the building when the explosion happens, but you aren’t hurt. You breathed gas though and that’s why you are here. But you just want to go home.

Your Commander push on your shoulder to make you oblige, what you do before pressing your finger against your eyebrows. You are going to explode too.

“Don’t worry, her girlfriend is coming, she will behave way more better with her around” your Commander says at your doctors with an unmissable amazement in his voice.

“Lia’s coming?” you raise your head.

“The team called her.”

Great. A good new, at last. If they tell you that you have to stay here for the night, you might lose it. In fact, the promise of Lia’s coming is enough for you to cool off a little. You don’t have your phone with you, so you weren’t able to inform her about what happened yourself.

You let the medical team do their job, even if you keep a scold on your face all the process.

Lia arrives several minutes after, knocking softly on the door. She looks worried and you frown. What did your team say to her? She seems relieved to see you sitting on the bed, even if your Commander put a hand on you to keep you from getting up when you try.

“Good evening Lia. I’ll let you alone” he says, smiling warmly at your girlfriend.

Lia greats him back, before turning in your direction when he leaves the room. It’s passed midnight now and she’s usually already asleep. She seems exhausted and worried.

“I’m fine” you say when she reaches you.

Lia doesn’t answer anything, but you can see her scanning every part of your body visible with this awful hospital dress.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

You shake your head for only answer, adding a “I swear” when she looks at you with skepticism. Your discussion earlier comes back in your mind, and you take her hand in yours before talking again. It’s going to be hard not to tell her everything but still enough for her to stop worrying.

“I breathed some gas and my oxygen level was a little low” you explain. “They wanted me here to be sure that my body was recovering correctly.”

“Wait, were you inside the commercial center?”

You don’t know how she knows that, but after you remember that she might have listened the radio or something while coming to see you. So you just nod and shrug before talking again.

“We were almost outside when it exploded” you admit. “The team forgot to cut the gas where we were but when we learned that we get out as soon and quickly as possible.”

You can see panic in Lia’s eyes and that’s exactly what you don’t want. What if she leaves you because she’s too scared about your job? You won’t recover from this; you would rather explode with a building.

“But you’re fine, yes?” she asks finally.

“I am. I promise, Cookie.”

She nods softly before hugging you. At least. You can feel your body totally relax against hers and you close your eyes, hiding your face in her neck. Her smell, the heath of her body, everything from her is comforting for you.

“Thanks for being careful and coming back to me” she says after several times.

“Every time” you mumble back. “As long as you are not tired of me”

“Never.”

She squeeze you against her and you take advantage of your position to hide your face in her breast, before she kiss your forehead.

You are suddenly very tired, but it has nothing to do with the gas this time. Now that Lia is here, you feel good again. She’s stroking your neck with her fingertips, and you kiss hers several times, smiling softly when you see the goosebumps on her skin.

“I’m so in love with you, Li” you whisper softly.

She slowly and tenderly takes your face between her hands to kiss you tenderly. You kiss her back, of course.

“I love you too, so much” she whispers against your lips before pecking them several more times.

Still smiling, you let her. You would never refuse her a kiss anyway. After that she keeps your face in her hands and look at you closely.

“You look tired. You should probably sleep.”

“Stay with me?”

“Of course.”

In fact, you managed to take her with you in your bed, cuddling against her body with a sigh of relief. Maybe you can stay here after all, if Lia is here.

[barblaz-arts]

I know you've been making a lot of art of it lately, but out of curiosity, what's your opinion on Hazbin Hotel in general? I'm referring to both the show and the fandom here. Just curious.

God. What a loaded question. Are you ready? Bcuz I'm fresh from Vaggie discourse on twitter and I have a lot to say.

I think that Hazbin Hotel seems worse than it is for people who know the fandom but haven't actually watched the show. Honestly, I think it's a fine show. It isnt super incredible and I'm not gonna sing praises about how deep and thought provoking it is or whether it's an artistic masterpiece. It never tried to be that and was never advertised as such(to my knowledge) anyway. I just had a lot of fun. Like, yeh sure the cussing in the dialogue can be a bit much, especially in ep 1, but there are different writers in other episodes, so it gets better. It can be super crude yeh, but I grew up watching things like the Scary Movie franchise and other dumb american movies (yes, i was too young for them. yes, i still watched them), so it's pretty tolerable for me. It also helps that Charlie is the main character. That's one of the main reasons why I watch HH but dont watch HB. It's probably a fun show, but without a sweetheart like Charlie to balance things out, I'd just get tired of the sex jokes and mean jokes.

Compared to my last hyperfixation, I think I have more things to love about Hazbin Hotel, believe it or not. With Netflix's Wednesday, I had already been an Addams Family fan for a while and hung on because I loved the family and eventually Enid and wenclair. The show itself was honestly meh... so far! I'll give season 2 another shot.

But with Hazbin Hotel, it catered to a lot of things I've always loved. Found family with a bunch of misfits? We didnt get to see it much bcuz of the fuckass 8-ep per season format we have nowadays, but its fine its there! The juxtaposition of a kind hearted woman in a harsh world? Love love Charlie for that, I watched the show in the first place because of her. A canon lesbian lover with a "fuck the world cuz my world is you" type of love for the protag? Fuck yes. How very Pearl-from-Steven-Universe of Vaggie. And the music? The music is soooo good. I didn't know the songwriter prior to watching, so I was nervous about the songs, but I knew most of the theater actors they cast(still cant believe Jeremy fucking Jordan is Lucifer) so I figured even if the songs are mid, at least the performances would be topnotch. And they were! But the songs were a pleasant surprise. Sam Haft did real damn well. I still listen to the soundtrack to this day.

The fandom, however, is probably the worst one I've been in. And I've been in a lot in my big age... Just... lacking media literacy, and based on the replies I get when I say something on twitter, it seems a lot of them lack reading comprehension and just plain emotional intelligence too.

There's a lot of criticisms about this show that I honestly think is fair. Pacing, character design, overuse of the F word, whatever. But in my opinion, claiming that Hazbin is a male-centered show is an unfair misconception that is mostly the fault of the fandom.

Bcuz, sure, the male characters are uber popular. Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, Angel Dust and the many web of ships they're involved in went trending every few business days. But come on now. How often does a fandom even have their main protag as the most talked about character? This has been going on for ages. Just because the boys have the most merch and fics and fanarts and thirsty fans doesn't mean that they had the spotlight for most of the show itself. It only meant that they were the ones the viewers paid attention to, in a fandom filled with people drooling over the next tumblr sexyman and toxic yaoi ship of the month.

But if you actually look back at what the show gave us so far, the boys didnt outshine the women. I actually think the women got to do more and be more as characters than the men did. Let's take a look at the male characters.

Alastor was not in all the episodes. In fact, he was MIA in two out of the eight episodes. In all the episodes he was in, he was a mere side character. His purpose in season one was to stir the pot and be the intriguing mystery that occasionally quips. But he was not the one whose deeper thoughts were explored and whose character and goals was challenged THROUGHOUT the show, merely alluded to at the VERY END of the season, which is hardly him taking the spotlight away from Charlie. If you merely looked at the fan content of him, you'd think he were a father figure to Charlie(or a love interest. whatever) and that he has developed a soft spot for the Hazbins deep down in that cannibal heart of his. But if you pay attention to the show, he never had even a meaningful one on one conversation with the Hazbins. The only time that happened is when (a)he threatened Husk's life (b)when he constantly mocked Charlie while she was down in the dumps and used this as an opportunity to manipulate her and (b)when he told Niffty watching the crew sure can "make one sentimental", even tho he had taken no prior opportunity to bond with them! There's no foundation for all the fandom's claims that he could be redeemed bcuz of a budding fondness for the group, but that's all you see of his fan content(aside from the horniness). I dont have any problem with his lack of an actual relationship with the Hazbins bcuz I believe redemption for him is not what the show is going for, but it's frustrating to see people interpreting it that way BUT not seeing how horridly developed it would be if that is the case, meanwhile they turn around and say that Vaggie and Chaggie as a ship "had terrible development".

Then we have the male Vees. Vox was only ever in episode two, and was essentially a youtube reactor in episode 8. He was in ep 4 but had no speaking lines. We only know of his obsession with Alastor and the toxic relationship he has with Val. Val, meanwhile, is merely shown as the sex obsessed fiend behind Hell's sex industry and Angel's abuse. They did what they needed to do with minimal screentime. It was fine, but that's IT. Despite what little CANON gave so far, you have hundreds of people writing essays and fics and fanarts about them being complicated characters. But to reiterate, this does not mean that they are bad characters or that they don't deserve the fame. But to say that these men are better written within canon than the women is such a bold statement when most of the depth they knew of these characters were lore drops given before the show and their own speculations as they dug into the shallow soil of what the show has so far.

I'm not gonna speak about Angel and Lucifer. Because I think they were characters who were legitimately well-explored so far.

Now onto the women. So many of them were given the opportunity to have their characters challenged or given the agency to push characters and the plot forward or give you intrigue about implications of what's to come for the characters and the plot. I've talked a lot about Charlie and Vaggie. So let me talk about the other, terribly underrated women of Hazbin.

Velvette and Carmilla were the ones who advanced the subplot in the war against Heaven. Because of Carmilla's love for her family despite being a demon, an angel was killed. It gave Heaven the excuse to escalate things, but it also gave Charlie hope later on in the season that they're not powerless. Carmilla was also the first demon shown to make selfless actions that is contrary to what is expected of demons, making it proof that Charlie's belief that demons deserve a second chance isn't unwarranted. She's an interesting character, as an overlord who hangs on to power but clearly has morals. But how often do you see people writing essays about her? Eating up the fact that she's a powerful overlord but would sacrifice anything for her daughters? If Carmilla were a man, hundreds of girlies would be drooling over the crime boss who has a soft spot for his daughters.

Meanwhile, Velvette got to demonstrate why exactly she's an Overlord despite being the youngest demon in there. She's calculating and observant. She gives off a haughty vibe and constantly boasts about how she's young and fresh, but she isn't naive. During that meeting, she paid attention to Carmilla and Zestial's relationship. In order to find out who killed the angel, she riled everyone up, and when she got the feeling it was Carmilla, she mocked Zestial so that Carmilla could slip up. By playing these Overlords who are older and more experienced than her, Velvette showed what exactly her asset was to the Vees and why she's a threat, something that Vox and Val have yet to be given the opportunity to do when they were busy eye-fucking Alastor and literally fucking Angel. But in fan content about the Vees, Velvette is almost treated as an after thought to the boys...

Then we have the Seraphs. Not only were their designs gorgeous, their dynamic and presence as characters had impact to the plot and main characters.

Emily is a much needed character to show that this story isn't meant to tell you that Heaven = bad; Hell = good. There is good and bad in both, and it is so important for the protags to know that they have an ally in Emily who represents the true virtues that heaven is supposed to uphold. And I love the confrontation she had with Sera when her own view of what's right and good was challenged. We got to see the strength of her character and started the seeds of what could be heaven's acceptance of Charlie's goals.

Sera is such an interesting character to me. She was also important to show that not all angels were sadistic like Adam and Lute, but not in the same way Emily was. I have no idea so far which direction this show would go with her. But I'm intrigued by the fact that she seems to be driven by fear, unlike Adam and Lute's cruelty. She knew Lucifer and was there when he was cast out for his disobedience. Whether everything she's doing is to prevent that from happening again remains to be seen, and I'm looking forward to this kind of subplot for her.

And then Rosie! I really really look forward to seeing more from her. Spoilers aside, something I barely see people talk about is how interesting it is that Rosie is every bit the leader that Charlie hopes to be. Rosie is able to be a respected overlord in her own faction without needing to sacrifice her love for showmanship and music and her positive disposition. When we were officially introduced to her, they show how she seems to care about actually taking care of her people, not JUST ordering them around, by talking to them personally and giving advice. That's exactly what Charlie wanted to do for her people, isn't it? The hotel to Charlie was what the emporium was to Rosie. They have a lot of similarities that could set up for Rosie to be the one to teach Charlie in becoming a leader. Now whether that's a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen, but it is rather compelling.

So yeah! With all that said, I really dont think this show ignores its women at all. Just because a bigger part of the fandom gravitated towards the men doesn't necessarily mean its a misogynistic show so far. But if certain people are claiming that the women are badly written, then I hope they also own up to the fact that their blorbos are just as shallowly presented within the show, maybe even more so. Which wouldn't even be a bad thing! Since when did a show or character have to be amazingly written for a person to like them? That's just no fun at all. All I'm saying is... Fuck this fandom's double standards, hiding behind claims that it's the writing's fault when the problem is they couldn't be bothered to think about the women.

[olderthannetfic]

Now I'm wondering how countries like Japan and China teach literacy.

Since kanji / hanzi don't really have that much in the way of phonetic elements, they kinda have to teach them by memorization and I don't think they have many reading comprehension problems over there.

(Although both countries do have supplementary phonetic writing systems in the form of bopomofo and pinyin for China, and the kanas for Japan)

--

FAVORITE SOAPBOX TOPIC UNLOCKED!

RELEASE THE KRAKEN!

It's a little closer to teaching vocabulary than spelling, but the same kinds of principles apply: You teach the building blocks, like the traditional radicals, which aren't so different from teaching Latin and Greek roots in an English class for English speakers.

And, as a matter of fact, lots of those radicals do predict pronunciation, just not in every single case. They can also be clues to meaning, but again, not absolutely consistently. Many characters have a sound-cueing radical on one side and a meaning-cueing radical on the other. It's just that only some are still useful in the modern day, while others are more like the English word 'plumbing' where knowledge of Roman lead pipes explains why this word comes from the one for lead, but the root probably wouldn't help a kid learn the word in the first place.

One similarity to teaching phonics would be teaching students to tell very complicated and similar characters apart: you want to help a student spot all the little building blocks of the character and then spot the ones that are different, not just glance at the whole character and get a general overall vibe. If you do a whole look-based approach, too many characters are too easy to mistake for one another.

Remembering a bajillion Chinese characters is hard if you're trying to memorize them in a year and not all of elementary school, but I think people who don't read them underestimate how many component parts there are and how approachable they can be if you start by learning fundamentals, not just memorizing a few individual characters as though they have no relation to anything else.

They're actually pretty systematic, just in the way that English spelling is with its overlapping systems and historical artifacts, not in the way that highly regular Spanish spelling is.

Having taken a lot of Japanese classes, I will say that Japanese as a foreign language textbooks often do a piss poor job of this and totally do teach kanji in a sight words-y way... But my Mandarin class started with important foundational concepts that served me well in Japanese later even if I bombed out of Chinese class at the time.

Can you tell how irritated I am by all the foreign language learners who think characters are sooooo hard when, really, it's just their crappy textbook? Haha.

They're moderately hard in the way that learning a full adult spectrum of vocabulary is hard, but people do that for foreign languages all the time. The countries that use characters do tend to make sets that are smaller for certain kinds of applications, same as we have things like simple English wikipedia, but a literate adult will always know lots more, whether it's from their career in engineering or their predilection for historical romance novels.

Uh... anyway, the answer is "Bit by bit in elementary school, just like in any other country".

[moki-dokie]

there's been a bit of a Hot Topic going around bsky (and twt too i guess) about why my age group (particularly in the US) doesn't cook at home much anymore

and there's been a whole lot of takes ranging from dogshit to good and intelligent to total confusion from folks in other countries. neat stuff right. decided to throw my 2 cents in from my own perspective as part of the demographic.

the tldr of it being: there are *several* factors that make it not worth it nor cost efficient anymore where it once was. obviously that isn't gonna be the case for everyone, but it is the case for an overwhelming majority, me included. and this isn't even including, you know, a whole population of disabled people who are physically unable to cook for themselves but I sort of figured that was a given. but maybe not, considering...

then this absolute genius comes in

thank you buddy for having no reading comprehension and missing quite literally every single point i made that it isn't strictly about the dollar amount of the meal itself. like. okay??? good for you i guess.

sure, there will be some meals where that is very true. I could make a bigass pot of ham and beans that'll last me a whole week for about $10. hence why i added there will always be some meals cheaper to make at home. but that completely disregards every. other. point.

it is not, and has never been, about the direct cost of the meal itself. that's just one of a handful of reasons that factor into the whole conversation. there are going to be times that eating out will be more expensive price-wise, but when it checks off like 5 different boxes i couldn't fulfill myself for whatever reason, that price balances out. and we really are in an age where we're having to negotiate the worth of every action we take and every minute we spend on something. i don't know why thats such a hard concept for people to grasp.

legit nobody is arguing it *should* be this way. it shouldn't. we all recognize this. in the ideal world it would be both worth it and affordable to make every meal at home and leave eating out for special occasions, as was the case when i was growing up. and i totally get it that our parents, many of whom raised us by their lonesome, managed to do it fine so in theory we should be able to as well. sometimes, yeah, it really is a matter of sucking it up and doing it no matter how exhausted you might be. that's true for all facets of life tbh. but it shouldn't be that way all the time every time.

and, i don't know about the rest of you, but for us? it really was a whole fucking To Do to clip coupons and plan Shopping Day. I'd spend a couple hours clipping from a few different newspapers and the mail fliers we collected. then we organized them by store. then mom would plan out which stores we would go to for which items,the route we'd take since sometimes it meant going outside of town, the timeframe for everything since it was typically an all-day event. like, a whole day of planning and a whole day of executing JUST to grocery shop, and that was back in the 90s/00s. Inconvenient, yes, but still actually worth the trouble. couponing saved SO much money back then, especially if you knew the stores that would double them. coupons like those don't exist anymore. period. now the ones that do are like, pennies off or bogo deals and otherwise it's app this and app that for any sort of savings - which even then might only be like a meager 10% off the purchase. in no way is it worth my time and effort today to do the same thing we did when i was young.

anyway. so yeah. for a hell of a lot of us, sometimes going out to eat or ordering in is in fact the most worthwhile way, and sometimes even the most cost efficient way, to feed ourselves anymore.

[hannieoftheyear]

everybody gets horny on halloween (lsm)

Seokmin dressed as a clown shouldn't be looking this hot, but in the spirit of halloween, you let that deep desire come out to life for one night when he bets he's the best kisser out of the whole friend group.

✧.* pairing: dokyeom x fem reader

✧.* w.c: 7,9k

✧.* genre: college au, basically pwp, friends to ?? (minors dni) | content: clown d(ic)k, frat boy dk, he's a dork but also a tease, everyone has a severe case of horniness, alcohol consumption, cursing, this has no business being this long but I just couldn't stop | smut: mutual masturbation, oral (m), fingering, protected penetration (clowns use condoms✊ and so should you).

read part 2 here!

✧.* note: i just know he's the best kisser in svt... you get it. this is the most unserious thing i've written so far, but i ended up really liking it? i might do a christmas version im not sure yet. last thing, I apologize if there are any mistakes🙏

dividers used

Halloween is the one night a year when you can be someone else and not feel bad about it, when you can let your deepest desires get to the surface and let them take over, because, who cares? Right? 

Who cares that you spent half an hour doing shots and discussing your best hook ups with a bunch of girls, which led to them going into heavy detail about their hookups with your best friends and now you can’t forget about it? And now you’re sitting too close to them in a couch too small for the four of you, with vivid images and descriptions of how your friends like to go down on girls and a feeling on the pit of your stomach you can’t shake off? 

It doesn’t help that all of them are dressed like idiots and acting like horny teenagers who desperately want to get laid, but somehow, the costumes work for them. If you weren’t drunk, it would be embarrassing. A potato with stab wounds, a firefighter with a tiger-printed uniform, and a clown that has no sense of style? You can’t be seriously getting the hots for any of them, but you’re not the only one with that issue. 

Earlier, from the kitchen, you could see where they were sitting and how girls went up to them again and again, twirling their hair and biting their lips to get their attention, Chan even going up to his room with one of them. Those things happen at every single frat party, but something about tonight’s is just different. 

Looking around the room, very little people are alone, doesn’t matter the costume. Everyone’s either hand in hand with someone, flirting standing against the halloween decorated walls, taking up space on the other couches making out furiously (Mingyu has been jealously throwing popcorn at one specific couple for over five minutes and they still haven’t noticed), and approximately every ten minutes you see another frat guy going upstairs with a girl. It's not easy not to get horny when this is the vibe you’re surrounded with.  

From the corner of your eye, even with the dark purple and red lighting, you can see a group of girls ogling your friends, probably not pleased at you for keeping them hostage. 

How they all managed to get fuckboy reputations is beyond your comprehension, because they’re still the same boys who like to stay up all night playing videogames and ask you to leave when talking about jerking off, but apparently getting into a fraternity just does that for men. Anywhere you go with them, they always gather a group of girls, and even sometimes boys, gawking at them so furiously you sometimes think they’re capable of undressing them with their stares. And now you’re becoming one of them. Knowing how popular they are and knowing how each of them behave during sex are two fundamentally different things. Sure, you have eyes. You know they’re handsome and hot, but the thought of having sex with any of them never crossed your mind for some reason. 

The effects of your little chat are starting to be obvious as they talk about something right by your side, and your eyes are trained to the way Seokmin’s lips move as he talks, mind going to dangerous places imagining how they would feel against yours. 

The ridiculous make-up he has on accentuates the way his mouth moves in an weirdly enticing way, the red across his lips and the lipstick streaks going down his face drive your eyes instinctively to his lips, and they stay there, like they have a life of their own. His nose is painted red, imitating the fluffy noses clowns usually wear, accentuating one his undoubtedly best feature, and it makes it virtually impossible for you not to focus on his face either way. You wouldn’t mind getting your pale make-up ruined by the cheap lipstick he bought if it meant you’d get to smash your mouths together and test what all those girls told you about him. 

The man in question shakes your leg, his hands on your knee giving you infinite goosebumps, and they’re all looking at you, like they’re waiting for an answer to a question you did not hear. 

“What?” 

“We saw you talking to those girls earlier. Did they say anything about us? Should we go up to them?" Mingyu repeats, his head peaking out from behind Seokmin. 

“They were rating their hook ups with all of you, feedback included.” First mistake of the night, telling them the truth. 

“Really?” Mingyu sounds way too excited hearing your reply. “What did they say?” 

“I bet you think it was good… but I’m not telling you.” 

“C’mon! You can’t just tell us something like that and not follow up!” Soonyoung comes up right behind Mingyu, just as eager. 

“Why do you want to know what a few girls, that you clearly don’t even remember by the way, think about you? All of you already have half the campus waiting for the chance to hook up with you.” 

“This is an opportunity for us to get better! What if Mingyu’s terrible at making out and doesn’t know it?” Soonyoung doesn’t miss the chance to tease the other. 

“Hey!” Mingyu pouts as the others chuckle at his cuteness, “not that you need to know, but I’m actually a really good kisser.” The declaration makes all of you burst out laughing, but it only eggs him further. 

“Yo! I’m being serious! Why don’t you ask your sister?” Soonyoung shuts up instantly, sending Mingyu a death stare, making you and Seokmin die of laughter. He’s been quiet until now but starts clapping to accompany his loud laughter in a second. 

Sitting right by his side, every move Seokmin makes, you feel. His arm brushes against yours every now and then, and you're so close you could prop your legs on top of him if you wanted to sit more comfortably. Even the slightest touches make your tummy do cartwheels. Touches you wouldn’t normally think about twice, as it’s usual for friends to be physically close to one another, but tonight, every touch, graze and glance of his sends electric waves rushing through every vein of your body. 

It can’t be normal. He’s acting goofy like he always is. Nothing in his demeanor changed. He still screams when laughing, claps and moves around when he’s entertained, and sings the songs coming out of the speakers out of nowhere. There’s nothing out of the ordinary besides the ridiculous costume he decided to wear and an uncommon, confident attitude you’ve seen only a few times. 

“Everyone knows that a true good kisser doesn’t say they’re good.” Soonyoung’s still laughing hysterically, but doesn’t miss the opportunity to tease Mingyu further. 

“Ah really? And are you one?” Mingyu replies smugly, trying to set a trap for him, but his plan backfires. 

“Why don’t you ask your sister?” The smile on Mingyu’s face disappears in an instant, triggering another choir of laughter, echoing across the entire room and catching a few stares. 

“Alright, alright.” A sulking Mingyu waits for the laughs to die down, not wanting the conversation to keep going, to not be the center of the teasing for any longer. 

“Wait, guys! Let’s not forget the main issue here. Our dear, dear friend, is keeping important information from us!” You hoped they’d forget about it for a little bit longer, but Soonyoung refuses to let it go. 

“I don’t know, guys, it feels wrong.” It’s not like those girls asked you to keep it a secret, but still. Your gaze connects with Seokmin’s for the first time tonight after you’ve started avoiding him, pleading him with your eyes to help out of the situation, but a voice gets between you. 

“C’mon! You don’t even have to tell us who said what. We only want the feedback.” Mingyu tries again, and it’s a rather good argument. You can get them off your backs, and you don’t reveal the girls’ names. 

You pretend to think about what to say, like one specific thing the girls said hasn’t been plaguing your mind, like you haven’t been thinking about it since you sat by his side, like your stomach doesn’t flip and your ears don’t turn burning red at the single thought of testing if what they said was true. 

“Well, there’s something they all agreed on…” They turn completely silent waiting for you to continue, “since we’re talking about kissing, they all agreed on who’s the best one out of you.” 

Something deep within you heats up with a jealousy you’ve never felt before. So many girls got to kiss him, feel his lips against theirs, his hands on their body, and none of them were you. Curiosity, jealousy, and want all combine inside you. 

“Well? Are you gonna tell us who?” Soonyoung‘s voice brings you back to reality. They’re still looking at you expectantly, small smirks starting to show on their faces, expecting their respective names to be called. 

“It was… Seokmin.” 

The air stills as you pronounce his name, and your eyes grow wide, waiting for their response. Nothing in your line of sight looks useful to relieve the heat growing inside of you at the embarrassment. The two men you didn’t name look at each other with wide eyes, raising their eyebrows before erupting into laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Seokmin’s voice only makes the sound of laughter grow. “You’re so envious, both of you.” A tinge of pride manages to escape through the tone of his voice. He looks so hot when he’s confident. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it was just… unexpected.” Soonyoung replies, still cackling. 

“My man! You have to tell us your secrets!” Mingyu teases, fully believing what you said but not stopping his giggles. 

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Seokmin here?” Soonyoung asks you directly, but you don’t get to answer. 

“I will literally kiss every one of you to prove it, right here, right now.” A sulky Seokmin interrupts the conversation, making a kissy face to Soonyoung, who feigns disgusts and slides away from him. 

Their banter distracts them from your curious form, eyes fixed on Seokmin as he defends himself from the teasing duo. Their voices blur as they become background noise, everything slows down around you, only Seokmin’s face present in your mind, how his eyebrows quirk as he talks, how his nose scrunches at the teasing, the way his soft lips move at every word he pronounces. You realize you’ve never seen him kiss anyone with your own eyes, and thank god for that, because if you’re in this state with only a few references, you wouldn’t be able to manage with visual proof. 

A loud cough distracts you from your train of thought, luckily before your imagination goes too far, but when you focus your eyes, you find the three men staring at you. 

“Fantasizing about something?” Soonyoung asks teasingly. 

“Yeah, about you shutting the hell up.” It comes out a lot more defensive than you want, definitely blowing your cover. 

“If you want him to prove it to you, you can just ask.” Your eyes dart between Soonyoung‘s teasing smirk and Seokmin’s surprised face. 

“Oh shut up.” Heat rushes to your cheeks, and before anyone can see you getting more embarrassed, you get up and start walking towards the empty kitchen. “I’m getting something to drink.” 

The realization hits you right then and there, with all the shouting and laughing on the background, in the dirty kitchen of the frat house. You really, truly, desperately want your clown-dressed fratboy friend to fuck you. Well, not necessarily fuck you – even though you wouldn’t be opposed – but at least kiss you dumb until you can’t feel your lips anymore. 

The poorly-lighted kitchen is sadly not empty, currently occupied by at least three couples making out, but you’ve learned to ignore them for tonight. The lonely bottle of water at the back of the fridge calls your name, and it might just be the only thing able to drag you back to earth and lower the little drunkenness left in your system. You can’t be fantasizing like that, not about one of your best friends, and especially not in front of him! 

You’re still standing with your shoulder against the fridge as you try to fill your brain with any other thought that isn’t Seokmin’s mouth on yours and his big slim hands pushing you against him. It’s not working, and the universe taunts you further. The door opens, revealing that same clown costume invading your every thought. He stands by your side without saying a word and takes the water bottle out of your hands after you’ve gulped down half of it. 

“Are you okay?” His voice startles you. But he sounds caring, and it just sends you down the spiral again. You don’t want to face him. Not right now. Not ever. 

“Yeah, sorry for rushing off like that…” Your voice trembles slightly as he takes a few steps and stands in front of you, forcing you to look at him. 

“They can go overboard sometimes.” He sounds actually worried, and it just makes you want him more. He cares about you, and he’s hot, and you’re surrounded by couples making out! It’s too much. 

“I just wanted them to drop the topic.” No more than a few words manage to mumble out of you. You feel so stupid. Never in the history of your friendship were you ever nervous to talk to him. Fuck those girls for talking so casually about guys, fuck them for putting those thoughts on your mind, fuck them for being the ones who can experience getting kissed by him. 

“Maybe they would’ve let it go after a few minutes.” Panic sets in as his words register on your brain. Shit, you’ve made him uncomfortable by putting him on the spot. 

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. I don’t actually care what they think about it, they’re not the ones I’m kissing after all.” He tries to calm you down with a joke and you chuckle back as a reply, but your stomach does a funny little jump at the mention of kissing. 

“It’s the only thing I could think of so it kinda just spilled out, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” You try to justify yourself and apologize once again, but Seokmin stopped listening after the first part of your sentence. 

“The only thing you could think of? Why?” Something in the tone of his voice sends warning signals to the rational part of your brain, but it's already too dizzy to understand. 

He takes half a step forward, looking at you intensely, like he’s Pennywise, and he wants to have you for dinner. You’d let him. 

“I-I- I don’t know…” His sudden closeness makes a blank slate of your brain. He’s getting ever so slightly closer by the second, almost entering your personal space, and words take you double the time to process, like you’re just learning how to speak. “It surprised me.” 

He places his hands on your side, caging you against the counter, forcing you to keep looking him in the eyes. His body heat embraces you, warming up your own body until red can be seen even under your white makeup. Is this how he usually flirts? Is this what all those girls felt? He’s taller than you, so naturally, you have a perfect view of his lips. Lips that move, asking something you don’t get to hear, too entranced in the way they quirk with each word to pay attention to anything else. A smirk begins to show on his face. He’s definitely noticing his effect. 

“You don’t think I can be a good kisser?”  

Does his smirk have superpowers? The clown makeup only seems to make it hotter, and you can’t look away. It’s hypnotizing, calling to you to fulfill your desires. 

“Do you care what I think about it?” What he said before about not caring resonates in your brain. 

“It depends.” His dark eyes dart down to your lips as his face gets closer to yours, so close your noses bump into each other. 

“On what?” You manage to breath out. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, waiting for him to finally connect your lips and end your suffering. But you feel nothing besides his breath fanning over your lips. 

“You know, Soonyoung was right before.” His voice makes your eyes fly open. His face is still only a couple of inches away from yours, but his smug expression tells you you’ll have to work for what you want. “If you want me to prove it to you, you just gotta ask.” 

You can feel his hands right beside yours on the counter surface, his skin calling for your touch. Does this mean he wants to kiss you too? If all it takes is you asking for it... 

“What makes you think I even want that?” His smirk doesn’t even come close to twitching at yours words. 

“So, we’re just gonna pretend you weren’t drooling over me before?” Yeah, you were caught, right in the act, and there’s no way out. If you back out now, your chance will be lost, and it will forever be awkward for the both of you to interact after this. 

“I wasn’t drooling…” He doesn’t believe you, and you don’t either. “I was just thinking about the information I was given.” 

“And did you come to any conclusion?” You’re sure you’ve never felt this kind of closeness before. Not even the ugly jacket he’s wearing is capable of breaking the spell casted by your personal spaces fusing together. The drunk dizziness left your body a long time ago, only leaving Seokmin’s effects to play with your body. You crave more of him. Your hands fly away from the counter down the hem of his clown t-shirt, playing with it as Seokmin's levels of confidence reach a new peak. 

“Yeah…” A shiver runs down your spine and to your core at the feeling of being observed by him. His hands place themselves on both sides of your hips, making you almost stutter your words. “That I’m the best person you could ask for advice.” 

“Right… and why is that?” He nods tauntingly, smirk getting wider as his eyes focus on your parted lips. 

“First, I’m always the first one to tell you when you make a mistake, so you know I won’t lie, and secondly, I just think it would be fair for me to know,” your words make him chuckle and your stomach contracts. Fuck, you really love that sound. “If every girl on campus gets to know, then I should too, right?” 

“Know what exactly?” 

“H-how,” He really got you. You can’t even say it. 

“How, what? How I kiss? You have to use words, baby, tell me what you want.” If he could hear the way your heartbeat speeds up at the pet name, you’d fall right to the floor out of embarrassment. 

A look around the kitchen to check if it’s a safe space calms you down. The couples making out are all long gone, and you haven’t been paying much attention to your surroundings beyond Seokmin's body, but you realize people haven’t been entering the kitchen for a while either. It’s now or never. 

“Fine,” you let him win, but not without rolling your eyes, “can you kiss me?” 

“Hmm, you can do better than that.” He’s still playing his little game, waiting for you to say what he wants. You lay your hands on his chest, learning at the worst time possible that he’s actually quite ripped, and you forget his game, and your surroundings, and your worries. 

“I want you to kiss me, and if you don't do something in the next two seconds, I swear I'm leaving this fucking party and never speaking to you ag–” 

First, you feel his fingers on your chin, tilting it up to reach his height, and then he presses his lips against yours, so softly you can’t fathom him being the same person that was teasing you just a second ago. Both of your hands fly to the back of his neck, pushing him harder against you as your lips start to move. He reciprocates immediately, moving his lips over yours with a sweetness that would drive a diabetic straight to the hospital. 

You get drunk of the feeling of him, deepening the kiss far more than you first intended as his mouth leads yours as he wishes, and his hands sneak to the sides of your waist. It’s not messy nor rough like you’re used to with other men, on the contrary, Seokmin takes his time savoring the raw skin of your lips, a tender deepness that keeps you in for more. 

The last bit of air in your lungs leaves you as a sigh, and Seokmin separates from you just in time before you pass out in his arms due to the lack of oxygen. You absentmindedly chase his lips, but he doesn’t smirk cockily like you expected and just glares at you, his eyes dark and clouded with something you’ve never seen in him, and lips parted with red lipstick smeared around them. 

Only breathing sounds are heard for a second before you’re both smashing your mouths together again. No time for thinking about how this will affect your friendship, letting yourselves dwell in this newfound desire. 

He dominates the new kiss immediately, his hands pushing you against him even more if possible. There’s no softness this time, nothing to prove, only lust and want pushing your bodies closer and closer until there’s no space left. Your nose brushes against his when he switches the angle, lighting a fire all the way down to your core. But he’s still not rough. He moves with a controlled power that makes you whimper on his lips. It is the perfect opportunity for him to finally sneak his tongue and tangle it with yours. 

You welcome the intrusion eagerly, sighing on his lips again as he explores to his liking. His hands don’t stay put and travel to your thighs to effortlessly lift you on top of the counter. Your legs open, welcoming him to slot between them, and his groin hits just on the crevice of your inner thigh. 

Sounds are made that shouldn’t be heard in any public place when Seokmin bites on your lower lip, but he drinks them all in, his mouth not letting your little moans reach any other ears beside his. His hands grope your thighs, bringing you closer to his growing hard, nearly desperate for more friction, but he explores more of your body with the same attitude, like he wants you to feel him everywhere. Your arms wrap around his neck and flush your chests together, and the plastic hair of the clown wig tickles on top of your skin, but it doesn’t prevent you from caging him against your body so the kiss never ends. 

A loud shattering sound makes you break apart, both of you worried trying to locate the source, but it luckily didn’t come from inside the kitchen, still empty as it was earlier, and when you look back at each other, eyes wide and jaws slightly hanging, realization hits the both of you simultaneously. 

“Fuck!”, “Holy shit.” 

While your reaction leans more to a ‘fuck, you’ll never be able to forget about this', his sounded more of a ‘holy shit, that really happened’. 

“You’ve been keeping that from me this whole time!?” Your question creates a smugness in his face that weirdly sends a wave of arousal through your body. 

“You could’ve always known, if you asked.” There's something more to what he’s saying, more than a reference to what Soonyoung said earlier. “So, what do we do now?”

“We’re gonna leave this gross kitchen, sneak past everyone on the living room, and then you’re gonna take me up to your room.” The words leave your mouth firmly, confidently, like you’re not proposing to change your friendship forever, like you’re not about to shit your pants waiting for his reaction. 

“Are you serious?” 

“You don’t want to? Fuck, this is embarrassing.” And your fantasy has come to an end. It was good, it served its purpose. Now you’ll just have to figure out how to transfer universities and get a new group of friends as quick as tomorrow. 

“Wait!” His loud, almost desperate voice makes you remove your hands from your face. You’re positive your blushed state can be seen from a mile away, but he seems more worried about what you said than anything else. “Yes, I want to, so badly.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes your lungs as you scrape your runaway plans. He notices you visibly relaxing and grabs your hand, which shouldn’t feel electrifying, especially not after exchanging saliva for a hot minute, but it still sends goosebumps across your arms and chest. He makes sure to peek his head out the door to check if the way’s clear, and you only hear a light chuckle before he fully opens the door to let you through behind him.

The few people left in the living room don’t know you. They’re either too drunk, too high, or sliding their tongues down someone else’s throat to even care about you. Mingyu’s long gone, leaving Soonyoung on the couch with a girl dressed like a tiger sitting on his lap, mouths attached, and making sounds you wish you could unhear.

Going up the stairs, you catch your reflection on a small dirty mirror hanging on the wall. You’re lucky none of your other friends saw you in this state cause you'd be subjected to lifelong bullying –lovingly they'd say. Your make-up is ruined. Not only is there red lipstick smeared all around your lips and chin, there’s also a stain on the tip of your nose. Your hair is completely disheveled, and if you were to check your outfit, you’re sure you’ll find your black dress wrinkled up far more than what would be considered decent in public.

But none of that really matters. Not when Seokmin leads you through the path of caution tape and forbidden sings covering the entire second floor. Not even when you finally reach his door, breathing heavily and still holding hands. And especially not when you finally enter his room and he traps you against the door as he closes it shut.

Your mouths are quick to find each other again, lips moving against the other, so naturally you’d think you have been doing this for years. You hurriedly take his wig off and throw it somewhere on the floor, revealing his beautiful hair ready to be tangled in between your fingers. He wastes no time and presses himself against you, letting you feel how hard he already is as his tongue finds its way inside your mouth again.

You moan freely in his arms, a new sound escaping you every time his hands find another sensitive spot anywhere on your body, and now that you’re really alone and the music isn’t blasting right beside your ears, you can hear the sounds he makes too. Every time you suck on his bottom lip, he lets out the tiniest whimper, that he fights to hold back and keeps failing, and sends a wave of arousal all the way down to your core, making you grind on his hard length and encouraging him to kiss you harder.

Harder and down your jaw and neck, kissing and nibbling your sensitive skin that isn’t painted for your spooky makeup, while his hands travel up your torso and cup your covered boobs.

Your hands find their way inside his colorful jacket, forcing him to take his hands off of you so you can slip it off, but not daring move his lips off your skin. His mouth works relentlessly on every part of your neck he can reach, and you’re discovering there’s more things he can do with it than just making out. You claw your nails on his newly discovered biceps when he lightly bites on the uncovered skin above your clavicles. It’s unbelievable how he manages to hide his gym body under his usual comfy clothes.

“Before we do anything, can I ask you what you’re supposed to be dressed up as?” The question takes you by surprise, and he’s serious about it too. But with the feeling of his lips still lingering on every bit of skin of your neck, it takes a second to find the answer in your mushy brain.

“Wh– I'm Morticia Addams! I thought it was obvious?” Seokmin takes look up and down your body –as best as your closeness lets him, and nods with a raise of eyebrows, which would’ve had your legs turn into jelly a minute ago, but you’re too confused by his sudden intervention. “Fuck, you ruined the moment.”

“Did I?” In the most cliché way possible, he flutters his eyes closed as he gives you a peck on the lips, and then on the corner of your mouth, and on your left cheek, leaving you sighing for more. He kisses his way up to the shell of your ear, his breath tingling lightly as he parts his lips to whisper in your ear. “You looked really fucking hot, but I think you’ll look even better with this off.”

Your skin lights on fire under his fingers as he runs them up your thighs and inside your dress, lifting it slowly. His words and actions take a second to match in your brain, but as soon as you understand, you’re holding your arms up, ready to finally have the skin to skin contact you crave. You’re left only in your underwear, but he’s still fully dressed, and before he resumes his ministrations on your body, your hands start lifting up his shirt so he takes the hint.

How your eyes don’t pop out of your face seeing Seokmin’s defined chest for the first time will remain a mystery. A quiet curse leaves your lips, which you only know he heard because he chuckles before lifting you up by your thighs and heading to his bed.

He drops you softly on the mattress, and you prop on your elbows to admire him as he takes his pants off. He’s always been reserved with his body, never taking off his shirt, even at the pool or the beach. And you’re not going to deny and say that the thought of what he’d possibly look like under his baggy clothes never crossed your mind, but the reality knocks your imagination right out of the park.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You’re staring shamelessly, and his boxers tighten under your lust-filled gaze.

“I’ve never seen you so… naked before.”

“I’m guessing this is a good reaction?”

“You’re really fucking hot,” Seokmin crawls on top of you, his buff arms at both sides of your head and his hips between your legs, grinning at your words but not stopping your rambling yet, “like, you should just go around naked all the time, people deserve to see this.”

“You’re exaggerating.” In an attempt to shut you up, he lowers his head and starts a trail of kisses down your neck, his lips grazing your skin on the way down and giving you goosebumps.

“I’m not. I’m serious. I think you sh–” His fingers ghost over your damp panties, finally succeeding in deleting the stream of words coming out of your mouth.

“You think I should what?” You lift your hips to try and get more friction, but he removes it and pins you down with a cheeky grin as he looks at you again.

You feel his smirk against your hip bone, and a sigh leaves your mouth as his hand makes a comeback and presses his fingers harder against your core. But the closeness of his mouth to your covered folds sends one singular warning signal to your brain. And you decide to listen to it. “What are you doing?”

“I really want to eat you out right now.” Fuck. His dark eyes look at you so intensely, smirk widening as he most definitely feels the new rush of wetness damping your panties further.

“Shit, fuck,” the need for his tongue is so bad, your walls tighten over nothing, “I can’t, not with that makeup all over your face, I’m not about to get an infection.” His face just above your core, his breaths fanning over your wet panties making you shiver, is something you’ll never forget. It pains you to reject the best offer you’ve ever been given.

“That’s fine, I’ll do it next time.” He doesn’t give you the chance to process what he said, immediately aiming to kiss your neck again. “What should I do then?”

“I think you should get over here. Now.” He’s so close his chuckle reverberates through your whole chest. “And put that hand to use.”

Somehow, you find the strength to sound as serious as possible while you pat the empty spot beside you on the mattress. He complies with what you ask quickly, taking off your panties in a swift motion and circling around you to kneel by your torso, his hand never leaving his claimed spot on your inner thigh.

His hard strains under his boxers, and it’s so close to your head, so ready for your hand to take, so that’s what you do. Your touch over his clothed bulge makes him let out a long groan, followed by his hand sneaking down your body. The coldness from his middle finger sliding against your wet folds sends shivers up your spine, getting a breath caught in your lungs. You can’t speak, and the light teasing touches his other hand scatters across your bare chest aren’t helping.

Before he starts playing with your cunt, you use all your willpower to grab the fabric of his boxers and yank them down. A wave of arousal pulses out of you at the sight, his dick standing tall, pink and proud before your eyes, glistening from the precum already smeared on the tip. And just when he begins collecting the juices coming out of you, you swirl your tongue around his tip.

From your position, you have to wrap your hand around the base of his cock your mouth can’t reach. An unholy sound comes out of him, sensitive from being hard and caged in his pants for so long, and his hand falters against your needy core. Every sound of his encourages you more and more, you want to hear more, you want to make him feel good. And the more length you suck into your mouth, the more he presses his wet fingers against your clit, it’s a perfect combination.

You look up to find him already staring at you, his make-up smeared around his face, all because of you, not fully believing what’s happening. As you bob your head up and down his tip, his hips buck into you just as he pushes two fingers into you.

Your warm walls welcome the intrusion, ready for whatever pace he wants to set. And oh boy, does he. The wetness gushing out of you nonstop makes it easy for him to thrust his fingers in and out of you at the speed of light. Your mouth stops working, lips parted and moaning uncontrollably as you do your best to drag your hand up and down his cock to give him at least some of the pleasure back.

His fingers are so long, they reach places your hand could only dream of, slowing down and finding every spot that makes you squirm and clench around them embarrassingly fast. He’s slow but hard, letting the palm of his hand press against your clit before he slides out. It's dizzying, and your legs start feeling wobbly and threaten to close around his arm the second he finds your gspot and starts abusing it.

A stream of curses and praises mumbles out of you, and it barely makes any sense in your head, but his hand speeds up, drilling into you with a newfound energy. You’ve stopped touching him at this point, but Seokmin’s still so hard, getting off on your pleasure. He delights himself in the way your walls clamp around his fingers, feeling every new wave of wetness that coats them every time he reaches your sensitive spots.

The little control left you have over your body starts faltering, your stomach tightens, your hips grind against his fingers searching for more, even if you can’t handle it, and your legs begin trembling. Everything part of a chain reaction that culminates as he adds a third finger, finally getting you to the edge.

It hits you powerfully, making you lose control of your body as your legs shake and you spasm around his fingers that are somehow still sliding in and out of you, helping you ride out the earth-shattering orgasm.

“Fuck!” You breath out, voice hoarse, hinting that you might’ve screamed a little louder than usual.

“That was so fucking hot.” Seokmin slots between your legs again, his boxers nowhere to be seen, his cock slapping against his abs and barely grazing your sensitive cunt.

“You thought that was hot? You got me to like, another astral plane just now.” You’re so comfortable with him that the honesty just slips out. Does it really matter if it makes his ego grow? “The rumors are true.”

“Rumors?” His fingers run freely on your waist and the sides of your back, feeling your skin against his, touching and fondling where he pleases.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you, not only about kissing.” The reminder of the kissing makes you blush, silly now that he’s literally had his fingers inside you just a moment ago.

“Really? What else have those girls told you?” Feathery light kisses up your chest and jaw make a million butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s so captivatingly close to your lips, you’re ready for another round again.

“Hmm, let’s not talk about you fucking other girls when you could be fucking me.” Reality hits him as you pronounce those words. “Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Right, right, right.” It's like his teasing persona fades off as he clumsily gets off the bed to look for them, in a rush and forgetting to avoid some of the things scattered on the floor.

With the shiny packet in his hand, he’s back between your legs like Flash, opening it and sliding the condom on his still fully erect dick in record time. You wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs hug his hip right against your once again needy core, and he’s about to lose his mind.

“Are you sure you want this? Like sure sure.” Where does this hesitation come from? You scan his eyes and his expression for answers, and he silently awaits your answer.

“Did what just happened not answer your question?” One of your hands sneak between your bodies, grabbing his cock and pressing it against your wet folds, earning a pretty sigh from him.

“I just– fuck, I wanna hear you say it.” His hips get a life of their own, sliding in between your cunt and your hand, covering his cock in all your wetness.

“Say what? That I want your cock inside me?” He twitches at your words, his hips faltering and moving his tip closer to your hole. “That I want you to fuck me?”

Your words flip a switch inside him. His eyes darken right before your gaze, and you don't register when his hands hold your legs up and place your calves on his shoulders. And you're at his mercy instantly.

“I want you to beg.” His voice sounds lower, deeper than you’ve ever heard. His length drags against your folds one last time, collecting his last coat of arousal before giving in and pushing his tip barely inside your hole. “Beg for me to fuck you until your legs give out.”

He alternates between sliding his tip inside of you just enough to have you craving for more, and removing it to tease your sensitive clit further. Begging for him is not going to be a problem.

“Fuck, I want you to fuck me, please. I need you.”

The stretch is immediate. Everything about him is big. His arms holding your legs up, his thighs on both sides of your hips, and his cock opening you up, making you lose your breath for the tenth time tonight. Your walls slowly welcome him in, like molding to his shape, and when he bottoms out, you both let out long groans.

You can’t talk. You can’t even breathe as he starts thrusting his cock in and out of you, hitting your deepest spots back and forth, slowly getting to know what makes you react. And for the first time in his life, he was speechless too.

The way your walls hug him as if to keep him there forever, sucking him in deeper and deeper with every thrust. Your legs quiver every time he pounds into you so deep and rough that his thighs slap against yours, and your nails claw just above his knees, leaving marks only he’ll be able to see.

“Pussy so tight, fuck.” He mumbles more to himself than to you, but your body registers his words and clenches around him harder. “Taking me so well, so wet, can’t believe it.” He's barely making sense, but the choked up sentences he manages to let out have the exact intended effect.

You can’t answer, and even if you could, you don’t know what unholy sounds would come out instead of words.

The wet squelching sounds eager him to go faster, harder, and he lowers his torso until your knees touch your chest and his arm that’s holding them presses against your tummy. His face is so close to yours, yet you can’t kiss him. His relentless rhythm doesn’t stop, jolting your body upwards with every hard thrust. Your instinctive reaction is to look away and close your eyes, but he won’t allow it.

His free hand grabs your jaw and forces you to look straight at him. Maybe he said something, but you can’t hear him, not when his cock hits so deep inside you, you feel him on your throat.

“I’m c-close.” Your voice comes out so small you fear he won’t hear you either.

But his arm frees your legs, and as you open them to wrap around his waist and push him deeper against you, his newly free hand creeps down your body. His finger toys with your clit so fast, you barely have time to comprehend what’s happening. You hold his face close to yours, eyes connected with his as you let out a string of screams and moans as you come undone.

He pounds you hard, and your walls clamp around him so much that he has to hold your hips in place with both hands. The room becomes a blurry mess as he prolongs your orgasm, thrusting and pounding into you, searching for his own.

“Come inside me, please, I wanna feel you.” His hips stutter against you, and a guttural moan escapes out of him as a response.

The feel of his cock twitching inside you, spilling into the condom as your walls hug him tight, will be tattooed on your mind forever.

His body falls on top of you, breathing heavily as his face hides on the crook of your neck. You stare at the ceiling, thinking of every possible outcome after this. But your thoughts come to an end as a pair of plush lips press against yours gently.

“You okay?” Seokmin’s shiny eyes look at you softly.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” He slowly slips out of you to lay by your side, making you both wince.

“You’re not regretting it, are you?”

“No, actually, quite the opposite.” You’re afraid to look at him. To see his reaction to your pseudo-confession.

“Thank god, because there’s no way I could live with this only being a one-time thing.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Seriously, it was so much better than my imaginat– shit.” He shuts up immediately, blowing his own cover. He puts his boxers back in a hurry while you process his words.

“What?! You’ve thought about this before?” That alone has you ready for another round.

“Fuck, you weren’t supposed to know, but yeah.” You fight another chuckle, not wanting to make fun of him, but he takes notice and continues to explain. “You have no idea how hot you look all the time, it messed with my head! Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, you look funny with the make-up ruined across your face.” You couldn’t hold back, and also, making him focus on something else might distract him from your blushed face and your heart racing.

“You look the same, by the way!” he says on his way to his connected bathroom.

“It’s your fault!” You shout back even though you don’t really care that your make-up’s ruined. “I'll just take it off before going to sleep.”

“Yeah, about that.” You think he’s about to ask you to sleep over, but one look at where he’s standing tells you the real reason. The soap all over his face and hands is stained pink, and even if he’s covered with pinky foam, you can see his worried expression. “This is not washing off.”

You run over to him after putting on one of his big t-shirts pooled over one chair by the bed, ready to look in the mirror and see just how much worse your face looks compared to when you left the kitchen. Seokmin’s drying his face off as you take in all the redness on yours. It’s going to fade eventually, right? After a few washes? At least you don’t have classes for two more days.

In the midst of your panicking, the door to the room shoots open, revealing Soonyoung with the couch girl. He sees Seokmin coming out of the bathroom and quickly realizes he’s in the wrong room.

“What the hell man!”

“Shit, sorry bro, thought it was my room.”

“Who was tha–” You stop in your tracks coming out of the bathroom.

Silence fills the room for the number of seconds it takes Soonyoung to analyze the situation. Seokmin in his underwear and you coming out of his bathroom with only a big t-shirt, both of you with matching red stains on your faces.

“Holy shit! I knew it! I can’t believ–“ He gets cut off by Seokmin shutting the door on his face.

You stare at him. And he stares at you. And Soonyoung‘s voice echoes through the hallway until he finally gets inside his actual room.

“He’s never going to leave us alone is he?”

“Nope, we'll have to own up to it.”

note: heyyyyy... I'm posting late i know... I forgot I had two final essays to write and had to prioritize them... but hey at least there's still one halloweekend left! halloween season it's not over

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Feeling Unwell

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: 1740

CW: Angst, illness, mentions of hospitals, satirical hatred of children, fluff, spencer being the best

a/n: Some fluff to bring you a brief intermission to your Kinktober readings.

Spencer Masterlist

The worst feeling in the world is waking up with a headache. 

Your head felt like a dance floor where ballerinas were doing their petit allegro warm ups, and there was no mercy. Every single sound filled your unopened eyes with fluff from a stuffed animal. 

The second worst feeling in the world was realizing that you couldn’t breathe through your nose, almost suffocating yourself from trying. 

“Maybe a tissue would help.” 

Not even opening your eyes, you use your hand to shove some part of your husband, playful, but grumpily. 

“Thanks, genius.” You grumbled, and curled further into yourself, yanking the blanket over with you. 

The man next to you let out a small, unserious, exclamation as the blanket that was once covering him was single-handedly yanked from his body. 

“Well good morning to you too.” 

You felt as he sat up, and properly woke up; most likely running his hands through his hair and putting on his glasses. 

Spencer then placed a hand on your hip, leaning over and kissing your head. “Morning baby.”

But before he could pull away, the heat coming off of your forehead was alarming, even to him. 

The feeling of his lips on your head was momentary bliss, even if it was psychosomatic. Anything Spencer did for you (or to you, if you know what I mean…) always felt good. Being cared for in a genuine way was a true testament to how much people can benefit from love: emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and yes, even physically. 

Spencer gently brushed aside some of the hair covering your temple, and kissed it again, this time with the full intent of taking your temperature. 

“Can I help you?” 

“Does your head hurt?” 

You snorted, but winced as you did, since you didn’t actually cause any sound. Your sinuses were so blocked up, that you ended up making your headache ten times worse.

And that was when the coughing started. 

Not being able to breathe through your nose meant that your chest already ached, but then all of a sudden you couldn’t breathe at all. Your ears both popped, and you could have sworn there was a constant ringing in your right ear. The coughing got worse before it got better, and it only got better because Spencer had jumped out of bed, run into the kitchen in just his briefs, and grabbed a glass of water for you to try and force down your throat. 

“Alright. We’re going to the doctors.” 

A moan of protest left your lips and as you moved to lay back down in the warmth of your own bed, where you could be unbothered by this random man who was insisting that you needed to get up, and go in public. 

“I know, I know baby.” He was now sitting on the edge of your side of the bed, and was running his thumb along your forehead. Your body involuntarily curled itself around his, and you sighed. 

“It’s like you hate me, and you want—”

A cough ripped through your sentence and your throat. 

If someone was walking by, they might have guessed that you were a chainsmoker of thirty years; a chimney of a woman. 

But, unfortunately, you had your guesses about where this mystery illness had come from. 

“Spence.” You managed to croak out. 

He hadn’t left your side, still rubbing his thumb across your head. “Yeah baby.” 

“I think that stupid twerp gave me his illness.” 

Spencer chuckled. “Who are you talking about?” 

“Remember…” You scooted impossibly closer to him, now able to rest your head on his thigh. “Remember that kid from the last case, the one who ended up having to go into the doctors because he was sick. I’d fucking…”

You paused, trying to catch your breath as you spoke. 

If you had to bet money, you’d place your entire net worth–plus your home and all your earthly possessions– that Spencer Reid was some sort of god from beyond comprehension since he was just sitting here, patiently waiting for you to finish your thought, even though it was taking you minutes to spit out one sentence. 

“He must’ve had some sort of stupid…stupid sickness. And I blame Hotch for making me be the one to sit with the kid.” 

Spencer hummed, a sign of support for your theory. 

“If that fucking kid gave me pneumonia or some shit—I’m gonna find him—”

“Alright there trigger happy.” He cut you off and kissed your head again. “I know it’s going to suck so much ass, but we need to go to urgent care because your cough and fever are really starting to worry me.”

“Who the hell even gets pneumonia in the summer anyways.” You grumbled to yourself, and you rolled onto your back, and slowly sat up; Spencer’s hand on your thigh the entire time. 

An anchor as your head sloshed around with illness. 

“I bet I look like a biblical depiction of famine.” 

That made Spencer crack a smile. 

“Glad you feel good enough to joke around about it.” 

“I actually feel like death. That kid’s made worms’ meat of me.” 

Spencer stood up, face filled with amusement. “Alright Shakespeare.”

You took his hand and slowly stood up. Eyes closed as the slight change in altitude made your eardrums pulse, and your head starts to spin. 

“Tomorrow you’ll find me a grave man.” You grumbled, leaning up against Spencer as the world decided to speed up its rotation by about a million. 

“I cannot believe you’re quoting Shakespeare at me while you can’t even stand up right now.” 

You cracked a smile, eyes still closed. “I’ve always liked Mercutio—a man making puns even as he’s dying—that’s my kinda guys.” 

After standing still, in silence, for the next two minutes, you were able to open your eyes and look over at Spencer. “I love you.” 

It was soft, but earnest. 

How lucky were you to have someone who just spent the past fifteen minutes patiently waiting by your side, to get you out of bed so he could take you to the doctors office because you weren’t feeling well. He could have just let you stew in bed, and take the day to be ill at your home. But instead, he sat with you, got you water when you almost died first thing in the morning, and now is your literal crutch as you move to the bathroom, so you could at least brush your teeth. 

You’ll be damned if you don’t at least brush your teeth before going out in public. 

The thought of it almost made you feel worse than what you were feeling now. 

You were awake enough that your body was starting to fight the illness in real time, meaning Spencer had left your side to quickly get dressed. 

He was back by your side a few minutes later, letting you take your time in the bathroom with your morning routine. In his hands was one of your favorite crewnecks to lounge around the house in, and the matching sweatpants. Snoopy around the ankle, and Snoopy and Woodstock across your chest. Something about the Peanuts characters being there made them a little bit comfier. 

“You’re going to deck me out in Snoopy to go to Urgent Care?” 

Spencer nodded and placed them on the counter. “If we end up being there for a while, you’d die in a pair of jeans. Don’t even try to pretend like you were going to put a bra on either” 

“How did a girl get so lucky?” You hummed, and leaned against him again. His arms wrapping around you as your body relaxed every so slightly.

“I have several degrees, including three Phds. That makes me a doctor, and as such, I’m educated well enough to know the perfect woman when I see her. Anyone who doesn’t agree with me, clearly doesn’t have the degree to back up their points.” 

You squeezed him briefly, before pulling away slightly, still encircled in his arms. “We;; Doctor Reid, I can’t argue with a professional. But I must say, your professional opinion is skewed.” 

Spencer kissed your head and shrugged. He went to say some sort of snarky rebuttal, but you interrupted him with yet another coughing fit. 

You had never been to the Sahara desert before, but you could assume this is what it felt like if you were in the middle of it and had accidentally swallowed gallons of sand while the driest wind passed through you. 

Spence just rubbed his hand along your back, waiting for the fit to end. 

Once it had, your body had started to lose some of the initial fervor you had managed to gain from waking up. “Spence, I think I need to just lay down for a while…”

“No.” He shook his head. “You have to put those clothes on and then we’re going to the doctor. I know you want to lay down babygirl, but the sooner we get you medicated, the better.” 

Then he started to talk about breakfast, and your stomach lurched. “The thought of food makes me want to die. It’s not happening right now.” 

Spencer went to speak but you cut him off. “Babe. I will get dressed, and we can go to the hospital, but I’m not hungry. I’m not going to eat, and you’re not going to force me because the thought makes me feel even worse. Deal?” 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Deal Spence?” 

Spencer just looked at you, and his resolve crumbled a bit. This was your best effort as a compromise. Every single atom you were comprised of made you want to collapse to the ground and enjoy the feeling of no longer being upright. But you were trying for him. He just had to compromise. 

“Deal.” He sighed. “We’re leaving in five okay?” 

“Aye Aye captain.” You placed a kiss on his cheek, not wanting to spread whatever you had to his lungs, and grabbed your clothes. 

Eventually, when you later found out that the kid witness from the previous case had given you viral pneumonia, your resentment for the little twerp grew even more, even resulting in a statement that you were 

“Never going to fucking have kids ever.” 

The statement made Spencer laugh as the two of you drove back home, meds in hand, and fresh hatred of ‘snot nosed children’ in the air. 

[wtaacde]

As a bilingual person who's been reading way too many fanfics with bilingual characters I reeeaaallly need to make a statement on how our minds work most of the time so people stop getting it wrong!

It's making me cringe so much 🥲

So I'm making a list of what I think is important to know when it comes to writing bilingual characters.

I've seen some simmilar posts on this topic, so some things might be repetitive but others are not, so stick with me. I'll be adding some personal examples to make it easier and more comprehensible.

So let's get started!

Master list to writing bilingual characters!

With no especific order os hierarchy.

1- This is the biggest mistake I see people making when writting bilingual character, so let's make this crystal clear: Bilingual people rarely mix their languages by accident!!!!

Especially if they've been living in a place where no one speaks their mother tongue and have little to no contact with their original culture.

Now, for the moments we do make those mix ups, it'll usually be with expressions we use all the time on our day to day lifes.

Let's work with examples!

I'm fluent in English, but my original language is Portuguese. In Portuguese, whenever someone is in a conversation we make this "éééééé" sound while we're thinking or unsure of what to say. It would be similar to the "uuuuhhh" people use in English.

I find myself and a lot of other Brasilian people saying "éééé" all the time even when speaking English, because that comes more naturally to us. It's an instict reaction that doesn't pass through the language shift that happens in our brain.

This also happens with more especific expresions. I don't talk to any foreign people, but when texting I catch myself trying to call people "amiga", which translates to "friend" and is normally used as an endearing term to call your friends or even strangers in a way to show friendliness. Now, not everyone in Brasil refers to their friends as "amiga", but I do, and I use it so much it slips in my vocabulary in English.

So, to summarize, there are expressions or words from our mother languages that come out almost as an instinct, but there usually aren't many of them and the frequency in which it happens is proportional to how much contact we have with speaking our native language.

2- Next up (and this is a funny one to me): it's easier to make math in our first language. If we were schooled in our first language, obviously. This could happen conciously or not.

So if you want your characters to have a funny moment, just have them do some math in their original language. This happens because we learned math and nurmbers in our mother language, and math is the same everywhere, so when we're learning another language we don't go through the same process with learning to use numbers practically like we do with words. So despite knowing what the numbers are called, it's still easier doing math in our language because our thought process is a lot faster and smoother in it.

3- We will revert completely to our mother language if we're emotional.

This could range from seeing a cute puppy and having a cuteness overload and instantly calling them cute pet names in our language to getting so mad that the only acceptable way to express our anger is to curse in our own tongue.

This sudden change happens naturally but they are intentional. We could totally curse and fawn in a different language but we choose not to because of the next point on this list.

4- Words are more meaningful in our own language.

I'll go straight to examples, because I know fic and romance writers are gonna have a field day with this.

When my dog was alive, I always talked to her in both English and Portuguese. But whenever I complimented her or told her I loved her in English, it felt fake. So I always repeated what I said in Portuguese and then I felt like I properly expressed my feelings.

So if i said something like "You're the cutest little baby in the world! I love you so much!" I always had to follow it up with. "Quem é a coisinha mais fofinha desse mundo todo? É o amor da minha vida? É, você é o amor da minha vida! Eu te amo mais que tudo nesse mundo!"

Only then did I consider she understood the depths of my love for her.

This also works in more angsty ways:

My parents were always very distant, so during one especific Father's day, when I was a kid, my school, as usual, had us making DIY presents for our fathers. We were supposed to write messages on the gifts and all my classmates were writing "eu te amo" on theirs. I couldn't write it, but it still felt like I had to or it would be weird. So I wrote "I love you" instead, because it felt less like a lie. Now, let's focus on the fact that I was a child. I had barely started learning English. I was nowhere near fluent. But it still felt easier to write "I love you" than "eu te amo". I never said "eu te amor" to my parents again.

Now, we had some fluff and some angst. Now let's get to humor!

Swearing always feels better in your own language. Do with that what you will.

5- On the subject of swearing, we will talk shit about anyone right in front of their face in a language they don't know and use different languages to mess with people.

This doesn't even need to be done with our first language (although it would feel more satisfying). Any language would do as long as the other person doesn't understand it. Bonus points if we get to do that with a friend/group of friends.

When I was a teenager I had just one friend that was also fluent in English. We used to talk to each other mostly in English for three reasons: the first one was obviously to practice, the second was to gossip with each other without people understanding and the third was so we could pretend we were foreigners and see people's reactions. We were two little shits that talked about the craziest stuff and no one bat an eye.

6- Now, let's finally look in the correct and conscious ways in which we change languages in the middle of a conversation.

First one and the one that happens the most is when we forget a word in one language.

I do this all the time and it sucks! I constantly forget how to say "concealer" in Portuguese and go around asking my family what's the translation even though no one speaks English in my house. I can't even remember the translation right now! A few days ago I couldn't remember how to say "pulseira" in English. It means "bracelet". It's an easy word. I still forgot it. Although I would recognize it if I saw it somewhere or if someone told me, my brain wasn't willing to do that work on its own.

So when this happens in real life, we'll always ask the people around us for the translation, even if they don't know the other language we speak, just in the hopes that they will understand the ✨ vibe ✨.

It's also really funny when this happens and the other person does speak both languages and also can't remember the translation. And sometimes we forget the word in both languages and have to resort to describing "the thing", which usually leads to a lot of misunderstandings.

Another way in which we change languages is when we want to use a very especific expression or memes in another language.

I'm gonna use Brazilian expressions for this because they're pure gold!

One that I find really funny (and somewhat family friendly for this post) is "o que o cú tem a ver com as calças?" which literally translates to "what does the asshole have to do with the pants?". If you think a little bit, you can still understand the meaning, but not all expressions work like that. If anyone's confused, the expression means that the other person is trying to talk about two different subjects that aren't at all correlated. You're basically asking "what does one thing have to do with the other?" with more crude language.

When we do this we can either just throw the expression in a different language and not elaborate on it, or try and explain it to the people around. It can vary.

7- If you have friends or family that also speak the same languages as you, you'll be shifting languages all the time without any warning.

I have a friend that most of our hangouts consist of watching K-dramas together. We live in Brasil, so we speak Portuguese, but we watch the k-drama in Korean and the subtitles are in English. During out binging marathon, we will speak all three languages with each other, even if none of us speak Korean. Sometimes we mix the words in all the languages, sometimes we have a full conversation in one language then switch to another on another point in time. Forgeting words in one language doesn't mean a thing in situtations like this. We'll just say the word in the language we remember and move on with the conversation.

This is everything I can remember for now. If anyone remembers other quirks of bilingual people, feel free to add on. If I remember more I'll keep adding to this post.

If you read all the way to the end, thank you and congratulations!

[maxdibert]

People always complain that Harry “forgave” Severus too easily, especially with the whole naming-his-son-after-him thing, and blah blah blah. First, let me make it clear that I think all of Harry’s kids’ names are an abomination. The fact that it seems Ginny had no say in them whatsoever is even more infuriating. I mean, I understand naming two of his kids after his dead parents, but I think it was completely unnecessary for Rowling to go as far as she did with everything else.

That said, I don’t think Harry forgave Severus. I think Harry simply understood Severus in the end. He understood why Snape was the way he was, what had led him to where he ended up, and why he had that awful personality. Harry is a character who shows an immense ability to understand the root of evil and empathize with other people’s motivations when there’s a good explanation behind them.

Harry decides not to testify against the Malfoys because he understands that, despite being a bunch of jerks, they did what they did because they had no other choice. He comes to this realization through Narcissa betraying Voldemort to save Draco and through Severus’s memories, where Snape and Dumbledore explain that Voldemort had given Draco no way out. Harry understands that Dudley spent his whole life being a jerk and a bully, heavily influenced by his parents, and that once Dudley became aware of how awful his behavior was, he regretted it and apologized.

It’s not that Harry forgets what people did to him; it’s that he understands that people have motivations beyond simply being good or bad. When Harry understands those motivations and sees that, in the end, they choose the right path (even if it’s not in the most orthodox way), he just decides to let things be.

I think the same happened with Severus, with an added layer of gratitude for realizing that, despite being a jerk, the guy ultimately worked to make sure neither Harry nor his friends ended up dead. Even though Snape couldn’t stand to look Harry in the eye, he still honored his commitment to protect him and followed through with Dumbledore’s plans. And I think that’s quite coherent on Harry’s part because, as kids, we tend to see things in black and white. But for those of us who’ve had to live with highly dysfunctional adults whose behavior we couldn’t stand, we often realize as adults that the problem came from not understanding the root of those behaviors. Understanding them doesn’t make those actions any better, nor does it make us forget what they did, but it does bring a certain peace because we can finally rationalize a motive. That makes it easier to close those chapters of our lives.

Harry understood why Severus did what he did. He understood that, despite everything, Snape risked and ultimately lost his life for a good cause, that he was willing to bear the role of the villain and endure loneliness for most of his life to maintain his cover. Snape sacrificed everything—his youth, his reputation, his personal ambitions, and his own life—to repay a debt. He always did what needed to be done, especially the things no one else wanted to do. Severus did the dirty work, and Harry recognized and valued that, which is why he considered him an incredibly brave man.

Dumbledore himself said that it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but even more to stand up to your friends. Severus stood up to both—friends and enemies. He constantly navigated between two worlds to which he never fully belonged or was truly accepted, much like the dichotomy between his magical and Muggle heritage. But he faced it all and kept going. That’s what Harry recognized, that’s what Harry valued, and that’s why he decided to clear Snape’s name and ensure he was acknowledged.

The fact that Harry could understand this while so many people continue to reduce Severus to a creepy, obsessive, and bitter man says a lot about some people’s lack of reading comprehension and others’ lack of empathy.

[deathdetermineslife]

I really don't wanna say this and sound rude but why ship with Korekiyo? Like there's so many other characters in the franchise you could have picked and you picked... that one? Maybe I'm just being an asshole but you just had to pick him?

this has been sitting in my inbox since Christmas Eve but just to be That Guy here is a long, horribly comprehensive list of reasons why I am in love with this man

—————————————————————————

he's fucking pretty

look at him. he's beautiful. pretty long hair, first and foremost. I love a man with pretty long hair. he has pretty yellow eyes and also look at his (what I assume to be) eyeliner. this man is beautiful. don't even get me started when he takes his mask off. sheesh. someone get me a fan! maybe I'm just weird but I love a man who's feminine but also masculine at the same time. not androgynous but a secret other thing. I think he fits into that category.

he's also very tall (6'2") and I am short (5'6") so we have a nice height difference. also something about a man who's built like a stake olive garden bread stick I love. I could snap him in half. I won't get graphic here but he's gorgeous and that's obviously reason number one.

another thing too is I really love his design. military inspired clothing is very cunty (iirc I think his outfit was inspired by a music video? I dunno how true this is) but either way it just suits him very well. gives off this mysterious aura which fits his character. also he wears these bandages on his hands and you wonder why, because as you can see in his pregame sprite he doesn't have any scarring or anything. my personal headcanon is that he wears them to keep artifacts he handles from getting scuffed up.

I also just think that knee-high boots fuck hard. nothing to add to that. they fuck.

he has a brain

he's smart guys. why wouldn't I love a man in academia? anthropology is very interesting. he's a yapper, talks all the time about his interests, which he's very well versed in. I want a man who I can have intelligent conversations with !!!! he fits that perfectly cmon

I could talk to him for hours and never get bored... even if I don't entirely understand what the fuck he's yappin about i still love him nonetheless!!!!! I want a man who I can learn something from. and I love anthropology!!! so every conversation is something to remember.

I dunno I just like how he's the kind of individual you could talk to for forever. he always has something to say.

he's a fuckin freak

none of you are allowed to call him a freak. by the way let's get that straight but he's so fucking weird and that makes him lovable. I'm a weirdo. this is a sentence I would say. who says the shit he says. there's a scene where another character picks up a manhole cover and his response to that is "you could easily crush a child's skull with that strength". who says that. who says that. I love him.

I want a man with this sort of off-putting pazazz that none of you could begin to fathom /silly

he's just so cunty

tell me this line isn't funny. he has a sense of humor only few can understand (autistics) and I'm one of them. people think he's not funny but he's just funny in a dry way.

also yes he may have been serious in this scene but that doesn't make it any less funny. he just has such an attitude. there's this scene after u find out one of the characters is an assassin and he's like "uhm why are we including her in this activity she kills people" babe !!! babe !!! baby doll !!! guess what You Do !!! it's funny, laugh. he just has Such A Personality.

he's relatable

"Lachlan no the fuck he isn't" HE ISSS this is the line my username is based off of. it's stuck with me for like 5 years since I read it.

he's such an interesting character when it comes to the concepts of grief and loss and how one copes with the passing of someone close to you, especially when that someone hurt you. I could probably talk for hours about how he's such an interesting case study on how grief can effect ones healing from trauma, or how grief itself is a cycle that he's destined to repeat (killing over and over again to sate the desires of the dead), or how everything about his character relates to death, just generally. his favorite story in canon is Medusa, his dislikes air conditioners because they repel spirits, he's, you know, a serial killer, and so much more. I could write an essay on him.

he's relatable to me, anyways. #trauma LMAO

hes just interesting

rapid fun facts about my husband, go!!!

like I mentioned before he hates air-conditioning, he also hates holy water. you can guess why. iirc in one of his official arts it's says somewhere that a lot of women are jealous of him bc his hair is so pretty. which, yea, me too. he also wakes up at six in the morning everyday, mainly to get ready. what he spends hours doing i don't know. there's more fun facts I could share but you probably aren't very interested in hearing them

all in all though I don't think I picked him I think he just came to me at the right time. and for the last light five years I've been obsessed and he's all I think about every day and night. that's my husband!!! I love him. not much else to add there. no other fictional character I think ever at all in any way has ever been appealing to me in the way that he is. I can't explain it that well, he's just something special.

okay that's all if you read all of this ily

[brutally-loving]

Welcome to my fuckass self-shipping blog. I am KRUEGER and you may use HE/THEY pronouns for me. Main blog is @esotericdivinity. My art account is @tenacious-brute. I would love to make more self-shipping friends, especially if our f/os share a base media!! Uhh, yes I will talk about my favorite men here- And only here. Comprehensive list of all of the ?? fuckers I have, and my DNI list below.

The Favorites, my fictional husbandssssss

I won't even lie: I don't really share my mains. I will indicate if I do or do not! And if I don't, I will not observe anyone else who selfships with them, I will ignore it. I also would possibly block if I am harassed?- But I can't foresee this happening. I am so so happy to see people who share f/os from the same media!!! Please come talk to me.

I'm gonna sort these by who I'm most fixated on followed by who I don't share, to who I do.

Choso Kamo, non-sharing (Jujutsu Kaisen) - HELLO??? UGH DOWN BAD- I'm so down bad I'm kicking my feet I'm punching mattresses it's an issue now. Sighs he's my new boyfriend AND my current fixation. Yeah. If anyone wants to talk about him with me, has any headcanons or anything, I'll love ya forever 💪🔥 (you will now find anything relating to him under the tag #krue's canon boyfriend)

Aoi Todo, non-sharing (Jujutsu Kaisen) - OH NO ANOTHER- ANOTHER FIXATION. He's my second boyfriend alongside Choso. I need him. I'm gonna get aggressive about it I need everyone to know how much I love him SOB SOB SOB (I'm working on getting him a tag alongside Choso... sighs. My men 💞💞) if anyone ever sends me asks about him I'll giggle btw

Granolah, non-sharing (Dragon Ball Super) - I've had him for like. 2.5 years. Maybe more actually... anyway, he's adored. I would punch walls over him lowkey. I could yap about him tons at some point... But I won't unless prompted!! HES MY HUSSBAN 💞💞

Clavicus Vile, non-sharing (The Elder Scrolls) - I LOVE HIM YAYAYAYAYAYA He's so. Grr. I cannot defend him or my love for him but?? Whatever! He's him 💞 i have had him for over 2 years, despite consuming his media for over 10. It's kind of crazy dydhdhd. Oh well!!

Silvers Rayleigh, non-sharing (One Piece) - Actually a perfect husband idk. Uhh Rayleigh when he runs with Roger is the one I’m fixated on and absolutely adoing of. Anyway he’s gorgeous and I think we should hold hands and watch documentaries… I've had him... for not long. But this doesn't make him any less important!

Troy Calypso, sharing?? (Borderlands 3) - He is NUTS and terrible and horrible and I NEED HIM- I cannot defend this fixation. I have an AU written for him, and that is where he is my f/o!! I adore him thoroughly.

Caesar Zeppeli and Joseph Joestar, sharing (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure) - They belong together. Who am I to separate them? Polycule go???- Oh well! I might talk more about Caesar bc I feel like he needs more love, but I adore them together and want us all to hold hands. Ugh. They're everything.

Caesar came first, back in 2020, but Joseph slowly won me over through 2021-2022. And here we are. I adore them both so, and I think that I should be able to love them so so much 💞 pretend Joseph doesn't have canon events that are important to some things... I need him with Caesar and I- In my mind, they're in a vacuum and that's it. Susie Q loves us all and her and I go to the spa together btw ☝️

Esidisi, sharing (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)!! - He was debated since the last time I fixated on JJBA (2022 summer or so??), but only recently did I really take him in. I'm always down to yap about him, but he probably isn't as prominent in my brain as others.

Corazon, sharing (One Piece) - I haven't mentioned him tons but he belongs on here too tbh. Sending him so many kisses!!!

Will update as needed? I guess- thanks for reading!! Please please feel free to ask questions- (Last updated: January 18th, 2025)

DNI: those who share the aforementioned characters that I do not, proshippers (specifically those who condone or romanticize pedophilia, incest, beastiality, rape, etc etc), anti-lgbtq+ people, racists, sexists, literally anyone who's just kind of harass-y?? Yeah please don't interact. I really appreciate it because that shits just not cool.

I write and draw commissions, and will take donations!!

P@ypal is caiushadeon@gmail.com

Ca$happ is $sharpset

and ko-fi is here!

[disregardcanon]

this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

[writertothemaximum]

Yuuji with a tall (pushing it at 198cm) scary transfer student from America who's kind of a punk but he's sweet sometimes (mainly only to yuuji) perchance?🧐(N/sfw)

ヤンキー・Yankee: Pt. I

Yuuji x tall delinquent male reader

content // Reader comes from a strict American family, canon-typical violence, reader is a juju tech transfer student, reader is a bit depressed, Reader is smitten™️, (yuuji is too), very wholesome, pre-relationship

note // read part two here! (nsfw)

-When your family moved to Tokyo for “business” related reasons, nothing could have prepared you for the culture shock. The language was one thing, but there were all these social customs that were just implied. No one said anything bluntly to your face, even if they did speak comprehensible English, which a lot of people did. Was it because you were an outsider? Was it because you were American?

-Maybe because of this, you found the life of delinquency easy. Maybe it was because you were 6’6” and no one was going to fuck with a dude twice their height, because nothing meant a quick trip to the hospital like getting into a fight with you.

-But people did. And you busted their faces in. It’s what they deserved. One time you broke your fist on someone’s nose. It was worth it. You got suspended and grounded by your parents, but so what? You never provoked people, they just came at you, and it was within your right to defend yourself. Isolation wasn’t caused by ostracization, it was caused by defense, and in your opinion, there was a lot to be defended.

-One day, your parents told you that you were getting transferred to a select school a little bit outside the city. A strange man (who was surprisingly close to your height) came by the house, offered to fist-fight you, and for the first time in your life, you got your ass whipped.

-It was a this point that you realized that the “imaginary friends” you had been seeing since childhood were called “curses,” and that maybe there was a place in the world for your violence. It had just been an outlet, maybe now you had a purpose.

-Very quickly, you realized that Jujutsu Tech also wasn’t home. A part of you wondered if anywhere in Japan could be. Before you were even given your own dorm room, you were sent with another student for a “trial run.” He didn’t talk to you much, and it took two hours into the thing before you even learned his name. It was like your parents had sent you to military school, and in a sense, they did.

-That was until you met Yuuji.

-Yuuji wasn’t like the other students. In many ways, he was like you. To no surprise, many of the students at Jujutsu Tech were also former delinquents, Megumi included—But Yuuji was different. He had blood on his hands, but there was no way you could tell. From the moment you met, he actively talked to you, tried to get to know you, treated you with respect, that’s just how he treated everyone, that was Itadori Yuuji.

-It’s not like no one had ever given you the kindness of humanity before, but Yuuji was different. Why wasn’t he afraid of you? Why wasn’t he intimidated? Maybe he was and he just never let it on, maybe it was because he’d beaten up kids just like you when he was in middle school, you didn’t really know. But it wasn’t just that. He was sweet he was funny he was kind. You were a friend, just like anyone else.

-Yuuji liked watching foreign films, and would invite you to go watch them in the city if any theaters had showings (and since it was Tokyo, they almost always did). After the movie, the two of you’d walk around and discuss what you liked, what you didn’t. One time, Yuuji asked about your home. He asked if you missed it, and a part of you did. A lot of you did. You didn’t talk to your friends anymore since everything had changed. Would they even believe you, anyways? Fighting monsters, living in what felt like another world?

-Yuuji understood you, he always did. That’s what’s so charming about him, is that he can feel what you’re feeling. At that time, he gave you a hug, and told you that he can’t send you home, but he can do his best to make Tokyo your new one. Maybe there’d be a piece of home here, maybe you could find a quiet spot, surrounded by the greenery of your youth, and the two of you could sit and chat while the memories flooded in.

-That was the first time you had cried since you moved abroad, and you vowed to make it your last. Somehow, Itadori Yuuji had weaved into your heart, and you weren’t about to give him up anytime soon.

If you liked this story, please give the post a reblog, or send me another request :)

Thanks for reading!

// read part two here! (nsfw)

[trippinsorrows]

https://x.com/hourlyroman/status/1844540517222129691?s=46

https://x.com/mindfulofmani/status/1844563126622032232?s=46

found these tweets on my tl and they give ltye 😩 like the second tweet just said

sitting in his chair in his office, staring with a blank yet killersome expression, roman is annoyed. granted, one could argue that he's always annoyed, and maybe he is.

but, it's only because people are fucking idiots who lack reading comprehension as well as the ability to follow basic instructions.

and he hates that shit. hates when someone's fuck up requires his intervention.

that's usually when said someone ends up hurt. or dead.

but, this time around, both of the prior options, typical for him, are pushed all the way from his mind with the tentative knock on his office door.

immediately sitting up in his chair, roman calls out, "come in."

and as soon as the door open, the fluffiness of dulce speeds by, the dimwitted puppy rushing over to him with all the excitement only to settle herself into the bed that at some point got moved to his office. he might or might not have been the one to do it on a day where all her damn whining was getting so bothersome that he just placed her by him so she'd shut up.

and from that day on, she seems to have the impression that this is also another room where she can settle her lazy ass in the overpriced bed and lounge the day away.

but his brief irritation with the unemployed squatter is again washed away by soft, thick thighs and an innocent smile. roman's gaze easily falls to solana's shapely legs that are on full display in her short little dress.

if there's one thing he'll acknowledge he owes naomi and bayley credit for, it'll always be their dedication in helping solana dress more confidently, cause goddamn.

"you don't have to knock, solana." roman has told her this several times before, and yet every time, she approaches him like she's everyone else. like she needs to be cautious and tentative.

she shrugs, walking over, explaining. "i just don't want to interrupt if you're in a meeting or something."

"doesn't matter," is his easy dismissal as he reaches for her. grabbing her by her hips, he tugs her close, plopping her down in her rightful spot. on his lap. "seeing and speaking to you is better than any damn meeting."

roman can practically see the shy smile on her pretty face as he peppers his lips over her shoulder. "you okay?"

she nods. "are you busy?" he sighs against her, feeling the way she tenses at his reaction. "solana, how many times do i have to tell you that i'm never too busy for you? you need something, just tell me."

she looks over at him, roman both hating and appreciating the way she shifts on his lap. this dress is nice and all, but all that ass she has moving on his dick like that doesn't do anything to help his resolve and desire to prop her up on his desk and fuck her until his name is the only thing she knows how to say.

"i know, i just.....it's kind of silly." she shrugs.

"it's not." he doesn't even know what it is. doesn't need to know. he just knows her being dismissive of it is a good indication that it's not anything frivolous. "tell me."

roman watches the way she opens and closes her mouth at least twice. overthinking. she's gotten a lot better with it, but there's still room for growth.

"i was......i was wondering if–if we–" she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "if we could go out to dinner again sometime." roman is slightly taken back. of all the things, he wasn't expecting that. "i don't mind cooking. i really don't, but–it was really nice that time we went, even though i know you were upset jimmy interfered."

it's nearly impossible for roman to hide his scowl at the memory of that. not the dinner. she's right. that part was nice. just the part where his annoying ass cousin snooped his nose in business that didn't involve him. that's what has roman rolling his eyes.

solana giggles at his expression, and it's music to his ears. an appreciated sight and gift on a relatively stressful day. as per usual with any interaction with her.

she always seems to make him feel better. whether she realizes it or not. whether she's trying to or not. it's just her gift in this life, it seems. her.

she's his gift.

solana continues, anging her body toward him, roman relaxing even more when she moves her hands around his neck. "so maybe if you look at your calender and see a date that works–"

"tonight." roman cuts her off. "let's go tonight."

her jaw drops, and again, he has to push inappropriate thoughts away. "but–but, you have work."

"i always have work, sol." and he always will. "shit can wait." the world won't end because roman decides to take a night off to take his fine ass wife out to dinner. "we'll go tonight. i'll have a restaurant cleared for us."

she pouts. and yet again, more self-restriction. "but, what about the other people? we can dine with oth–"

"fuck them." his interruption is said with all the seriousness. "i don't give a damn about them. they can do something else."

roman stands up, chuckling at solana's gasp as she tightens her hold onto him. it's brief movement. barely anything. he simply sets her on his desk, scooting her back just enough for where he needs her.

"my wife wants to go to dinner, so i'm taking her to dinner." he continues, solana smiling as he kisses on her neck and moves his hands under her dress, hands messing with the waistband of her underwear.

"roman....." it's a hard groan to suppress. he'll never get tired of hearing his name come out of her mouth. especially when it's breathy and needy. "what–this is your office."

"mmmhmm." he starts tugging, helping her lift her ass off the desk just enough for him to pull them off. her expression is damn near priceless as she watches him stuff them into his pocket. "and?"

"i–this is im–mportant." her stuttering increases as his fingers gloss over lips, nectar already starting to pool just from his light touches. "we ca–" she stops, gripping him by his shoulders when he dips a finger inside her tight little hole.

"yes, it is." roman's dick twitches in his pants watching the way her head falls back, her mouth open before she bites down on her bottom lip. "you want me to stop?"

he will. always will. if that's what she wants.

but, it's not, and he knows it. it's confirmed with how she shakes her head no, taking him by surprise when her cheeks redden, and she makes a surprising but pleasant request of her own. "your....your mouth."

fuck. roman hovers his lips over the top of her breast, fighting temptation to rid her of the dress altogether. "where do you want my mouth?"

she whines underneath him, and he smiles. he's patient with her but never shies away from the opportunity to help her grow with her confidence. with her assertiveness regarding what she wants and how she wants it.

she swallows, answering in a quiet voice. "o–on me."

roman can admit his next act, curling his finger inside of her, watching her arch off the desk, is borderline cruel. definitely teasing. "it is, baby."

"roman," another whine followed by her shifting on the desk, hand moving down to his bicep. "p–please."

another chuckle as he navigates his thumb near her clit. "please what?" he's not really expecting her to say it, recognizes it may be too soon. that she's not there just yet, but it doesn't stop him from trying.

he's just as pleased when she moves her hand to the top of his head and starts to push down, clearly guiding him to where she wants him. his smirk grows as he takes over, climbing on his knees and pushing her dress up to her waist. he's certain pre-cum spills from his dick at the sight of her pussy. pretty and glistening. just for him. always for him.

"that's my girl."

-------

the photos inspired me, friend 😭😭😭😭