#and because you have a big brain and the luxury of most likely not needing to do this to survive

[mantisgodsdomain]

On the rare occasions when we talk about the spectre of veganism you can probably physically tell the amount of psychic damage that we take from seeing people throw out any part of a carcass.

[ennabear]

i beg of you to write more mean abby.. i reread all of ur mean abby works religiously i swear i just love her too much ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ NONNIEEEEE STOP THIS JS TOO SWEET!!!! IM BLUSHING IM BLUSHING I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!! sorry this is a lil bit messy, i haven’t really had time to lock in on anything official I HOPE THATS OKAY!!!! here are some thoughts… 18+

i think mean!abby is one of those people who are discreetly rich. she’s not the type of person to go on big fancy vacations, or buy expensive sports cars, or to always have the newest technology. before she met you, she probably spent most of her money on books or expensive brands of tea imported from countries she’s never even heard of. after she met you, though? she’d swipe her card a million times a day to see you smile.

the best way i can describe her personality is like some old cranky grandpa, the scary guy on the block who never smiles but is very confrontational. if you’ve seen her around, you’d know that she’s always wearing a scowl, only leaves her penthouse apartment early to go to the gym, and has beef with most of her neighbors. but if you know know her? she’s a sweetie pie. she loves spontaneous sweet treats, slow dancing to 70’s music, old horror films (mean!abby letterboxd goes CRAZY i just know), and most shockingly, her cats.

and she LOVES those fuckers. it’s so perfect how she can have a companion who’s quiet and small and independent, and two of them? barely any responsibility. they have an automatic feeder, entertain each other, and only bug her about once a day for attention.

as for her job, i could see her having two possibilities. one being an extreme workaholic. maybe an office job or a surgeon or something?? (NOT a nurse because they’re supposed to be good at talking to people…) OR she only really works part time, some freelance job that doesn’t really have any rules. a photographer or a tattoo artist or some sort of small business that she can mostly manage on her own. money has never been an issue for her, coming from a family of doctors. her ass was spoiled rotten as a kid, and after her dad died she inherited all of that money.

she’s the biggest protector in the world. someone was talking shit about you? she’s breaking their nose right now actually. i think the biggest reason she’s “mean” is because she actually just has anxiety. the last time she felt a love this strong, it was for her dad. she can’t afford to lose you like she lost him, so she always has to make sure you’re safe and sound. it’s not like she’s trying to be controlling by texting you every half hour, she just worries that maybe she won’t be able to protect you for once, and it’ll be at the worst possible time.

ok lock in here are some nsfw thoughts :3

you know that trope that’s like “big mean stoic character is actually the subbiest bottomest little puppy in the whole world.” yeah…. if you don’t agree what are you still doing here.

it definitely took her a while to be this vulnerable, but jesus christ is it worth it!!! the way you get to watch her squirm and whimper underneath you, knowing that you’re the only one who can make her feel this way. to give your big protective guard dog girlfriend a night off, to take care of her in return for all that she does for you.

and she lovessss being tied up!!!! something about the intimacy of knowing you’re gonna give her a good time makes her submit to you almost instantly. she has to trust you on this, has sit back and relax and let her brain melt because she physically can’t do anything about it.

when she does dom i imagine she’s a pretty big brat tamer. c’mon, not everyone has the luxury of having a girlfriend like her. if you don’t act grateful she’ll whip you in to shape. literally. she’s not afraid of a good spanking.

also she’s strapped up 24/7 but this is canon in every universe… no matter what she’s doing or where she’s going or who she’s gonna meet, the strap stays ON!!! just in case she may need it….

but she’s the aftercare QUEEN. of course. apart from the basics like food, water, cuddles, etc. she has tonssss of knowledge on proper aftercare. you’d never have to worry about being hurt or getting a uti or feeling unloved because she’s read every forum to exist about aftercare!!! i just know this bitch runs a tumblr kink blog like it’s the military… 🤦

that’s all…. going to eep now……

[caturnmoon]

The sun 🌞 through the houses!

• Part 1 •

• Sun in the 1st house •

The sun naturally finds its joy here in the house of Aries! The first house rules individuality and how you personally come off to others in this world and self. So with the sun in the 1st house you are someone that naturally has this radiance about them and is not, and I repeat, is not afraid to take up space! It’s giving main character energy for sure. You could have been an only child where the world literally revolved around you (like the sun) or you’re the favorite. The sun in the 1st house creates a natural born leader and others are easily inspired by you and look up to you. For better or worse, you influence the climate of any room and relationship. If not kept in check, this placement can point to some narcissistic qualities. At its best this placement inspires others to embrace their own light and fearlessly takes action in whatever it is they aim to achieve in life. They are blessed with a strong inner compass and drive to set out to achieve whatever it is that they want to. This could also indicate a natural talent and or interest in self-help and awareness platforms; you know who you are inside and out and like to help others discover this for themselves. What you see is what you definitely get with this placement. Especially if placed in signs like Leo, Aries, and Sagittarius.

• Sun in the 2nd house •

With the sun in the house of values both material and personal, you are someone who can naturally exude the qualities of a Taurus. Strong, authoritative, and sensual. Physical security means the world to you in this lifetime, and you have all of the tools in your arsenal to achieve just that. You could have an uncanny knack for investments and finances in general. You are meant to step into this role of security both material and emotionally. This placement to me just gets better with time and ages like fine wine if positively aspected especially. You will most likely be someone who aims for financial solidarity and independence and could be the breadwinner of your family and you take great pride in this too. Those with this placement are most likely to be very generous with their resources as well, giving to others that need their resources and help especially if positively aspected by planets like Jupiter, the moon or Venus. You have an eye for beauty and beautiful things and like to invest in art and the best luxury this world has to offer you. Style comes naturally to you and you could also find yourself interested in interior design or fashion if placed in signs like Taurus, Libra or even Pisces. People look up to you and respect you quite easily with this placement and you’ll naturally navigate positions of authority with ease and steadfastness.

• Sun in the 3rd house •

Mentally active and always on the move. This definitely marks someone with the sun in the house of Gemini! You will most likely be known as a jack of all trades and someone who is difficult to pin point doing just one career during their lives. Highly intelligent and with the propensity to mental restlessness, you need constant mental stimulation for that big bright brain of yours! You also thrive in areas of communication as well, as Gemini rules this. Blogging, networking, and writing may be some natural callings for you. You could travel quite a bit in your professional career especially shorter distance trips, and you also could’ve had a very active childhood too. Perhaps your parents sent you on many different summer camps or boarding schools growing up. Unless negatively aspected, you could have a very close bond with your siblings as well. You could also be someone who naturally enjoys learning and school and are insatiably curious, soaking up information like a sponge. Unless placed in more introverted signs, this placement normally highlights a very social extroverted person. Look to your Mercury in your chart as well with this placement, because the themes of that planet could be a larger portion/theme of your identity!

• Sun in the 4th house •

With the sun being in the house of the opposite luminary the moon, this could indicate a night time birth! You are naturally someone who is in tune with their inner world and incredibly private one at that. Emotional security is everything to you, as well as a safe space you can call home. Your childhood home environment (unless negatively aspected) could have been one full of love and cozy vibes. A safe haven you treasured coming home to after a long day of school and your mom has a lovely dinner awaiting you. Both parents had a huge impact on you but especially your mother or maternal figure. Maybe you were raised by your mother and she was a single parent. Matters of family and the domestic environment will be a big focus for you in this lifetime. You are most likely a homebody who enjoys being at home as much as possible. Perhaps working from home is a huge goal for you! This is also a placement that can show an interest in social work careers as well especially having to do with the domestic sphere. This placement also could show major inheritance as well, it makes me think of it being a trust fund baby placement if the rest of the chart supports this as well. Overall, you are highly motivated by personal, domestic and familial concerns. Look to your moon sign and where it’s placed in your chart as well, as it can highlight more concerning its influence in these matters!

• Sun in the 5th house •

All the world’s a stage!!! With the sun in the house of pleasure, hobbies, drama, children, and affairs this very much rings true for you. The 5th is a Leo house, and invoking your inner child is of the biggest importance for you and your outward expression in this lifetime! You could be known for how you shine in creative endeavors and bringing joy to literally any atmosphere. You feel the most fulfilled when authentically creating and expressing yourself; whether that be through painting, songwriting, acting, sports, or even raising children. You have a healthy sense of self and your ego is strong in its expression. The 5th house literally speaks to me as the house of joy and pleasure and so you find yourself always looking to experience these things in life. Just be careful to keep this in healthy balance with discipline as well, for it could indicate some hedonistic qualities too. A healthy aspect with Saturn could be a great balance with this placement to buffer this. This could also indicate a love for love and affairs could be a potential struggle here as well. Regardless of this, those with their sun in the 5th house have a huge heart and are in tune with their heart chakra naturally. You could also be known for your many talents as you’re someone who is blessed by the solar luminary and puts the spotlight on these qualities for you with ease. The sun is at home in this house of the lion. You’re the supreme ruler of your identity.

• Sun in the 6th house •

The sun in the house of Virgo is such a gentle and diligent placement. The sun infuses its warmth and energy into the house of service, health and routines and as such, you could be a natural healer! The sun here shines the spotlight on your daily routines, matters physical well-being, and services. Virgo is the natural healer of the zodiac and this could be an area of focus for you in this lifetime and what you’ll naturally evolve into being in one of these areas. Perhaps medicine is an area of interest or physical therapy and you love working with wellness routines. This placement also indicates someone who has a green thumb and has a natural knack for gardening! Small animals could bring you so much joy and healing as well, and you could love working with them as well. Such as a veterinarian, or volunteer in a shelter. Animals could love you and are naturally drawn to you. The sun highlights the best qualities (and lighter ones) of the 6th house. Like the 3rd house, this house is also ruled by Mercury. Mercury tends to fare really well in the solar luminary. You have a natural knack for details and are wonderful with matters that require meticulous study. The tiny details that others overlook you naturally comprehend with ease. You are also someone of a resilient nature as you have the ability to work through the petty issues and obstacles life may throw at you. Viewing them as another problem to be solved, you’re able to view things through a logical rational lens.

•Houses 7-12 coming soon•

Until next time! 👽🖖🏼

[merakiui]

Do you think Jamil would use his um to hypnotize darling into being his dorm’s fuckhole? Or a fuckhole between him and octrio cuz I do love gangbangs with guys that have a super slimy side. Maybe someone is recording the gangbang for jack off material that might also be used as blackmail material if needed?! Or maybe it gets you stuck in a contract as their sex doll before it escalates to cam girl to bring in some profit or maybe doing some exclusive live late night shows at the lounge hnnnnng. I’m sorry it’s just that gangbanging has been doing a number on my brain and I’m ready to combust

OOOOO omg yes absolutely!!! WAIT,,, Jamil doing that out of hate..... just pure dislike for you, and it scratches some sadistic part inside him to see how you come undone with the help of his hypnosis. Hypnotizing you to be Scarabia's silly cock-slut...... just a dumb hole for everyone to fuck into,,, free use...... in my mind Jamil wants nothing to do with those fish, but if he somehow owed some sort of debt to them or if Azul was on his tail about how grateful Jamil ought to be for their help during the events of book four..... maybe he would be inclined to do it but only once and then that's that; debt paid!!! orz whatever happens to you after that when you're in the arms of the fish is your responsibility. >:)

The ideal and underrated combination would be Ruggie and Jamil. One slimy guy who can turn your mind to mush and all he needs to do is have you look into his eyes so he can utter the spell, and another slimy guy who can take complete control of your every move..... the potential!!!! Their cooperation in Glomas was so scrumptious..... Jamil hypnotizing you while Ruggie's making you spread yourself open for both of them...... the two of them exchanging looks and trying to see who is the most devious between the two of them, but clearly they're both enjoying it because Jamil is smirking and Ruggie won't stop snickering..... </3 terrible men......

But back to Scarabia!!! I love the idea of Kalim wanting to repay Octavinelle for all of their help (much to Jamil's dismay), so what better way to do that than throw a big celebration!!! :D and those slimy fish certainly aren't going to object. The dorm doesn't even need to get you drunk when you're hypnotized and maybe Kalim doesn't even realize that's what happened because he's too busy having fun and forcing more food and drink your way..... orz and because Scarabia is so thoughtful and has the foresight for these things...... one way or another, you're being spread out on the luxurious carpets in Scarabia lounge and someone's passing around condoms and lube and toys and the whole thing quickly becomes all about sex because you're so cock-drunk.

Hehe thinking about Jamil who doesn't partake at all, merely watching from the sidelines as you're plowed raw by some of the students, as they move your hands towards their waiting dicks, as you choke on cock and get covered in cum, as Jade and Floyd sink their teeth into your shoulders and neck while fucking you at the same time, etc etc. I think Jamil would get the most pleasure from the moments after, when the party has settled down and you come to from the hypnosis and you're left with this gaping emptiness inside you as you realize you were just used by so many guys, some of whom you thought were your friends. Why would you have sex with so many guys? That's not like you at all!!! >_< waaa the panic...

And Jamil who smiles and will play at being your friend when in reality he could care less. AAAAA HE'S MEAN....... I love Jamil who gets sick satisfaction from having you depend on and trust in him.... as if he isn't the cause for your misery.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

a story told in multiple parts

vi x reader

Info Post

Moodboards

Next Part

Contains: college au, dark/light academia, writer reader, singer reader, neurodivergent/autistic reader (i’m autistic so i’m writing from my own experiences), sporty vi, hockey player vi, big sister caitlyn, best friend ellie williams, roommate ellie williams, will contain other familiar characters you know and love as well as some potential ocs. no use of y/n, reader does have a name because it’s just easier for me to write that way 🖤 ALSO- Jayce is aged down because I want him to be 😌

WC: 4.5k

TW: talk of severe mental illness and brief mention of psychiatric facilities

A/N: chapter one is officially live! if you’re just stumbling across this and haven’t checked the main info post yet please do for more info! hope you enjoy! 🖤

part I

you’re on your own, kid

Whenever most people got acceptance letters to Oxford they were ecstatic, elated, overjoyed. Somehow whenever I got mine all I felt was a sense that I had failed. It was a juxtaposition of course, it was always expected from my family that I attend the same university they had and every other generation before them had. So in a way I had done the opposite, just maybe not in the right order, and a hefty amount of rejection letters in my midst. Including the one currently being held in my shaky hand right now.

Ms. Kiramman,

Thank you for submitting your manuscript to our publication house. Unfortunately right now we are unable to offer you an opportunity for further publication.

“Please, they wouldn’t know good literature if it hit them in the face.” Caitlyn scoffed from her spot next to me as the student shuttle jostled us in our row of seats.

“Is every other publication house that denied me unable to recognize good literature as well?” I whispered from where my cheek stayed pressed to her shoulder.

I know what a lot of you were probably thinking at first glance, but Caitlyn was a good big sister. She was harsh, severely left brained, exactly everything our parents wanted in a child, and quite possibly the polar opposite of me. But in all honesty she was my best friend. My biggest supporter whenever my parents weren’t. It was her who had harassed all of those literary agents to even get me the chance to submit my works to publication houses in the first place because I was too scared to do it. And it was I who failed every single time.

“Yeah actually, they are. Honestly Mills, there’s so much trash in modern day poetry right now you might be better off.” She sighed, reaching a hand over to click my phone off slowly as the shuttle rumbled to a stop. “This is you!” She tried to plaster on a fake cheery voice with a pat on my back as if to get me to finally lift my head where my cheek was already an irritated red for being hid in her sweater.

“I still don’t get why you couldn’t just let Ellie and I take the extra room in that big student house you just moved into.” I huffed, lifting a hand to readjust my glasses before rising up to my feet and reaching for one of the suitcases carelessly tossed on one of the adjacent rows of seats.

“Because lovey, you need to make some of your own friends. This is uni, Millie, we’re both in completely different colleges and I just- I don’t want you to get too lonely.” She frowned, glancing back at me as she rolled the other suitcase behind her. “You guys don’t wanna room with a bunch of upperclassmen anyways.”

“I do have my own friends, I have Ellie.”

“As much as she is a great roommate, friends besides Ellie, it’s good to have more than just two whole people on campus to talk to.” Caitlyn pressed on just before striding towards the entrance, leaving me feeling like I needed to speed walk just to keep up given the fact she was nearly a foot taller as well.

The student apartments were definitely nicer than the usual underclassman dorms. In all honesty I really should’ve been grateful, it was just another luxury of being a Kiramman. Whenever your parents paid for half of the buildings on campus you usually got better accommodations. Not that either of them originally liked the idea of me even rooming with Ellie. A loudmouthed foreign exchange student from America I met during another one of those incredibly expensive wellness retreats my parents sent me on to see if they could find a ‘cure’ for what was actually just a heavy amount of autism and severe ADHD.

The only person who really seemed to understand that there wasn’t one and it was just simply who I was was Caitlyn. To a degree as much as she could at least. Sometimes though I could tell she forgot.

“I think Ellie said she beat us a while ago.” She chimed in as we approached the door decorated with a slightly chipped gold number.

“She got here early because of hockey stuff.” I answered, already bouncing on the balls of my feet to see how she had managed to make the flat into a sea of chaos already. She wasn’t exactly the cleanest person, luckily her energy seemed to mesh with mine easily enough though.

“Oh! You never mentioned she made the hockey team! I know a few girls on the team you could probably talk to.” She shot a hopeful smile back at me before lifting a fist to knock on the door.

It swung open before she could even make a second tap to reveal a frazzled looking Ellie haphazardly clutching a hockey stick. “Thank God you’re here! I was trying to practice my swing and- fuck, we are so not getting that deposit back, Millie.”

“Oh dear god.” Caitlyn cursed, already wincing in dread before stepping through the door into the messy flat. “I’m sure our dad can- do something. What did you manage to break and why on earth did you decide practicing your swing indoors was a good idea?”

“For your information I didn’t break anything! There’s just a- tiny dent in the wall.”

I hummed a bit to myself as I stepped over the plethora of unpacked bags currently covering the floor. “It’s definitely more than tiny.” I chimed in as I poked at the noticeable dent in the drywall.

Caitlyn released a long and heavy breath and shook her head, as if to try and keep herself from making her own dent in the wall. “It’s totally fine. I’ll just- say that it was there whenever you guys moved in!” She shrugged with another anxious clear of her throat as she pulled my luggage in behind her. “Which room is free, Els?”

“Oh, I gave her the room in the front. I know she likes it dark and the lighting in there sucks.” Ellie answered as she shuffled off behind us. “There is one window in there that can get pretty killer in the mornings.”

I tensed a bit at the sight of the double window facing towards the bed. Yet another one of the aggravating little quirks that came with my neurodivergency, light sensitivity. As far as I could remember I always preferred the darkest of places. And now Caitlyn was cursing again, rushing towards me to take my hands into her own as if I was already on the verge of panic.

“It’s okay- I can get you a pair of a blackout curtains asap and you know how dreary it is in Oxford anyways-“

“Caity- it’s fine. I’m not going to have a meltdown over a window.” I interrupted her ramble with a shake of my head. Sometimes I felt like she still thought I was that same teenage girl that didn’t have a handle on her emotions. Not that I was far from it exactly. Now I was just an almost 20 year old girl who had a slight hold on her emotions. That’s what the writing was for.

Her eyes still held the same amount of concern though, getting that same little crinkle in between her brows as she nodded. “Okay, I’m still getting you blackout curtains though.”

“They’ll definitely be appreciated.” I said with a forced tiny smile.

“Well, I really wish I could stay and help you unpack but I have a meeting with the Brooks Society and everything but… I really do hope I’ll see you both tonight at the pub for fresher’s week?” She grinned hopefully once more as she squeezed the life out of my hands.

“Oh, I-I don’t know. We’ve barely settled in and-”

“I’m down.” Ellie chimed in from behind me as she trotted back into the door frame. “I’m gonna be relishing in the fact I finally don’t need a fake.”

“Ellie…” I groaned as I shot her a glare over my shoulder.

“What? Mills, it’s the first day of fresher’s week, we might as well be committing a crime by not going out tonight!” She exclaimed with a dramatic throw of her hands in the air.

“It’s true, and as much as I would love to keep you away from my degenerate friends, well, it might be good for you.” Caitlyn agreed with another casual shrug.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice, are you?” I questioned causing her to shoot a knowing look towards Ellie over my shoulder.

“Probably not.” She answered before stealing a look down at the expensive watch wrapped around her wrist. “Well, I’ve gotta go but… you’ll text me if you need anything, right? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t because of what I said earlier because you always can I just-“

“Caity- it’s fine. I’m fine, I promise. I- I’ll see you tonight.” I stammered in hesitation, and I’d definitely be hearing about it later. But luckily right now she seemed willing to just let things go.

“Okay, good… great. Now- get in here, pipsqueak!” She exclaimed, the familiar nickname she had been calling me since she hit her growth spurt and I yet to do so making me roll my eyes as she pulled me into a tight hug. One of those sisterly hugs I always clung onto a bit longer. Ever since I was younger no place had felt safer than Caitlyn. And in so many ways sometimes I looked at her as being more than a mom than our actual mom. I knew I needed to find other safe places though. “I love you, you know that right? I promise. This is going to be a good thing.”

“I love you too, Caity.” I sighed softly as I felt her lips press to the top of my head before the two of us pulled away.

“Els, take care of my baby sister or else I’ll have your head on a stick? Got it?”

“Crystal?” Ellie finally spoke up again with wide eyes as her hand made the ‘okay’ symbol.

“Good.” Caitlyn spoke before trotting back off towards the front door, “I’ll see you both tonight and send you the details.” And with a charming smile she was headed out.

Ellie instantly let out a shiver the moment the door closed. “Has anyone ever told you that your sister’s scary as fuck?”

“Many times.” I answered simply just in time to see Ellie’s face fall ever so slightly.

“So, I’m guessing it was a no from the latest publication house?”

“How could you guess?” I frowned as I slumped against the wall like I was going to resign myself to the floor.

“You had that aire of discouraged defeatism whenever you walked in.” She explained as she sidled up to me. “Cheer up, Mills, modern poetry is so cringeworthy nowadays you might be better off going for songwriting anyways.” She added as she gently rubbed at my clothed arms.

“If I can’t even get a publication house to take me seriously then what makes you think I can actually get a songwriting deal?” I spoke as I finally pushed myself off of the wall.

“One of the most popular songs out right now literally has the lyrics, ‘that’s that me, espresso’ in it.” She rolled her eyes a bit to herself as she finally knelt down to grab the bags she had still yet to unpack.

“No Sabrina Carpenter slander in this apartment, Williams. You know I’m an OG. And I can relate to desperation.” I frowned in embarrassment as I crossed my arms across my chest.

“Yeah yeah yeah, come and help me unpack, will you? Maybe we can find you something to wear tonight.”

“What’s wrong with what I have on?” I exclaimed almost in mild offense as I gestured towards the outfit that definitely had been hastily picked out. But it wasn’t like it wasn’t cute- ish at least.

“Nothing, but care bear sweaters and leggings seems more like a comfy day outfit than a ‘going out to the pub’ outfit.”

“I thought it was going to be a comfy day until you completely blew my cover!”

“Sorry babe, but I agree with your scary as fuck sister on this one. You need to get out more. Experience the pleasures of fresher’s week and you can take that in any way you want!” She shot a wink over her shoulder as she made her way down the skinny hallway to kick open her own door where a brutal floor to ceiling window already angrily cast its light on the room causing me to flinch.

“We could always pretend to be girlfriends again if you want people to leave you alone in a, you know, romantic way.” Ellie added as she rushed across the room to pull the curtains shut and pat the empty space on her bed. Probably the only time it’d actually be made all semester.

“Nah, if we do that too many times people will know we’re lying so best not to even start.” I answered as I took a seat on the side of her bed.

“Well if that’s the case, how does this shirt look with… this flannel? What do you think? Chick magnet?” She grinned before whipping out a red and black checkered flannel from the mostly empty closet and pulling it on over the basic black band tee she already wore with a flourish.

“Maybe if they’re emo?” I said with a little shrug as I scanned the band logo on her t-shirt causing her to groan in defeat.

“Still… somehow… always chronically bitchless.” She voiced before plopping down on the squeaky university issued beds. Though we were at least lucky enough to have double beds, it definitely wouldn’t leave anything to the imagination if either of us decided to do any nsfw activities in them. Somehow I didn’t feel like we’d have that problem though.

“Shush, you’re not chronically bitchless. You have me!” I teased as I gave her shoulder a playful shove where she dramatically flopped onto her back.

“So bitchless then?” She reiterated with a lifted brow as she glanced over at me.

“At least you’ve actually managed to kiss a girl once or twice.” I scowled as I inched over onto my side. Already catching myself pulling closer towards her.

“Just so we’re clear, I did offer.”

“Yeah, only to get your first kiss out of the way.” I scoffed, though I curled up to her either way. Closing my eyes as I placed my head on her chest I hadn’t realized how tired I had felt in the past 24 hours. They had been rough, a sea of anxiety and those exact meltdowns that Caitlyn was afraid of me having and her not being there to talk me down from.

“And? The offer never stopped standing.” She spoke just before I could feel her arms wrapping around me.

“Good to know, Els, I’ll let you know if I ever need to get a pity kiss from my best friend.”

“Oh shut up, it’s not a pity kiss. It’s me doing you a solid.” She remarked, as she nudged my foot with her leg. “You manage to get any sleep last night?” She wondered just before letting her hands trace soothing circles on my back. I only shook my head as I felt the sting behind my eyes before I could even take any steps to stop it. The way you felt whenever you were already on the verge all day and someone finally asks if you’re okay. Curling my fingers into her flannel the annoying tears already soaked into the fabric of her shirt. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

A shake of my head only followed, I didn’t know how to put anything into words really. How to explain to people that just wouldn’t understand no matter how much they meant well and wanted to. How was someone even supposed to explain the fact that you were one of the most celebrated families of the most prestigious university in England yet somehow you still felt like the only person who didn’t belong here sat on top of a mountain of rejection letters? Perhaps you could rather easily. But to actually say the words ‘I’m pretty sure I only got in because I’m a Kiramman’ were a whole different story. It’s why I took all those years off in the first place. I wanted to delay the inevitable of my dad paying off the admissions directors again while staring at me with the level of disappointment he never had to with Caitlyn.

I hadn’t even realized the simple tears had turned into full out sobs until I heard Ellie’s gentle shush from above me and her arms holding me even tighter to her chest as she did so. “You’re gonna be okay, Mills. I promise. We’re gonna be just fine.”

~

I hadn’t even noticed I had dozed off until my eyes cracked open again, noticeably faced away from the window and tucked underneath Ellie’s covers. My glasses sat propped up on her bedside dresser already casting a noticeable blur of the world around me. Meanwhile hushed voices seemed to speak from out in the hallway, walls much too thin to hide the noise.

Fighting back a yawn I shoved myself up onto my elbow to wipe at my dysfunctional eyes before stretching a hand out to pluck my glasses from the nearby table. Though I only jumped as the door was pushed open and Caitlyn’s tall figure popped up into view. “Hey pipsqueak, Ellie told me you weren’t feeling the best after I left.” She said carefully as she grabbed my glasses to hand them over.

“I wished she wouldn’t have.” I grumbled as I slid them onto my face only to hug my knees to my chest and glue my eyes to the bedsheets below.

“Why not? Isn’t that exactly what I told you to do? Mills, I would’ve stayed-”

“But- I-I don’t wanna keep you from your responsibilities anymore, Caity!” I exclaimed with a frustrated groan, already digging at my eyes again while my head only throbbed from the aftermath. “I don’t want you to have to tell this really important college society that you can’t be there for your obligations because your mentally ill sister needs you to rescue her again!”

“You are my responsibility, Amelia!” She snapped, the use of my rarely spoken full name making me wince as she pointed a stern finger at me. “You will always be my number one priority because I’m your big sister and it’s my job to protect you, no matter what. And I don’t care what kind of deep shit I get into with the criminology department, okay? Because you come first, always!”

I tried to gulp back the same pathetic tears, but it turns out after you cry yourself to sleep for the millionth time maybe there really is a limit. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?” I spoke up after a moment of silence, feeling Caitlyn’s arm stretch around my shoulder as she took the spot next to me.

“No, but I did do some thinking and if you really don’t wanna go then I don’t wanna pressure you.” She frowned, almost looking down in mild guilt until I leaned my head against her shoulder.

“No… I do. I wanna go and make friends and new experiences and- t-try to be normal.”

“Lovey, you are normal. It’s the world that isn’t.” Caitlyn frowned as she leaned her head against mine. Thankfully she only hesitated a moment though before she cleared her throat and spoke again, “If you wanna go though we should probably start getting ready. If you want me to help you?”

“Maybe you can help me figure out what to wear? And do my hair in those little braids with the clips? And help me with my eyeliner?”

Caitlyn snickered a bit as I lifted my head from her shoulder. “The eyeliner might be a little tricky but I can certainly try. Are you forgetting the prom incident where I quite literally gave you an eye infection?”

“That was definitely just because of the glitter.” I shrugged before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and finally pushing myself up to my feet.

“The eyeliner pen straight to the cornea certainly didn’t help.” She reiterated.

Despite the various complications of having two not at all femme lesbians help me get ready though, I don’t think I looked too terrible afterwards. I had settled on a simple black dress that fell just above the knee with little bows sat atop the straps. English autumns could either be comfortable or frigid though and the current temperature definitely wasn’t comfortable so Ellie tossed me one of her blue flannels to wear over top. Of course claiming it’d be a calling card for all of the hot lesbians, if they didn’t assume we were together first.

Calling the pub a ‘pub’ in an of itself was definitely generous. Besides the one or two older people having their relaxing evening out ruined by the loudmouthed 18+ filling the joint it felt more like a club than anything. Music blasted from the speakers as we stepped inside, Caitlyn on one side with a protective arm around my shoulders and Ellie on the other who looked more and more like she was never returning to America by the second.

Caitlyn immediately dragged us downstairs where most of the students had taken over. It wasn’t hard to figure out which group of friends were hers. It was the largest one, who had currently swallowed the entire center of the room it seemed filling up leather stools and couches with red decorative pillows. “Oi! Cait! Over here!” A familiar voice echoed from the large group, popping his head over everyone and waving the lot of us over.

“Jayce? I thought he finished his masters last year.” I tried to speak over the noise where Caitlyn wrinkled her nose in response.

“He did, guess the old man just can’t get enough of us.” She answered, giving my arm a comforting squeeze as she pulled me along beside her.

The group was probably the most eccentric lot I had ever seen as we approached the cluttered table. Covered in empty and full beer bottles and other fruity drinks along with half burnt out cigarettes. A spread of tarot cards belonging to a skinny girl with the longest and brightest blue hair I had ever seen was currently being scooped up as well causing my eyes to widen in curiosity. A chorus of Caitlyn’s name followed as usual, the usual life of the party whenever I wasn’t there and she didn’t have to babysit. I had almost managed to successfully tune most of the chaotic noise out though until I heard my name followed by the tightening of Caitlyn’s arm around my shoulders once more.

“Lads, this is my baby sister, Amelia. Treat her well or else I’ll kill you slowly and painfully.” She said with a little grin just as a stool was pulled out from where a pink haired individual sat manspreading on the plush couch.

“Have a seat, cupcake, we don’t bite.” The girl smirked as she sat forward almost curiously. Also an American.

“I especially mean that towards you, Vi.” Caitlyn’s expression morphed into a glare as she watched me cautiously lower myself onto the seat like it was going to give out below me any second. “Oh, and this is Ellie- Ellie Williams. Also a fresher. Ellie, Mills, this is… Jinx, Ekko, Jesse, Dina, you obviously know Jayce, Abby-”

“Bitch.” Ellie mumbled underneath her breath causing my eyes to widen for the thousandth time as she took the open seat next to me. “She totally knocked my lights out during practice today.”

“You have to have at least one light on to have them knocked out, Williams.” The muscular woman stated as she brought a glass of amber liquid up towards her mouth.

“Wow, didn’t realize hockey rivalries on the same team were a thing.” Caitlyn fought back a laugh as she went to take an empty seat of her own.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ellie grumbled a bit to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Williams? She yours?” Vi cleared her throat as she nodded in my direction.

“Who? Amelia? I-I mean I wouldn’t complain but we’re just friends.” She answered immediately causing Vi’s eyebrows to lift.

“So- no intense feelings you guys are harboring or anything?” She questioned again as she stole glances between the two of us.

“Unless there’s something she’s not telling me?” Ellie wondered with a lifted brow as she looked towards me as if in confirmation. And it was then I realized how tightly I was clutching onto her hand below the table.

It wasn’t as if the two of us hadn’t thought about it. It wasn’t as if I had spent a solid number of nights in her bed whenever things got really tough. Ultimately though we had decided what we had as best friends was far too intense or precious to fuck up over a relationship. And also just the sheer fact that dating somebody you met in a psychiatric facility disguised as a ‘wellness retreat’ was probably a bad idea.

“No, just best friends.” I answered in a small voice with a simple shrug.

“Okay, so you won’t mind if I buy her a drink then?”

“Careful Vi.” Caitlyn growled from her spot on the couch across from her.

“Ummm, can you buy me a song on the jukebox instead?” I asked, and to my surprise a series of impressed sentiments filled the table. My eyes only furrowed in confusion however as I peered towards Ellie or Caitlyn for help, “What?”

“Because Millie, that was smooth as fuck.“ Ellie answered almost drawing a little laugh from my end.

“Lucky for you, doll, I can buy you both.” Vi spoke as she held a bruised hand out for me to take.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel any butterflies blooming in my chest at her words. The feeling of my heart kickstarting as I placed my hand in hers and let her lead me towards the bar. Her hand was warm and rough in my own, calloused but not in the way Ellie’s were from the constant plucking on her guitar. They were calloused in a far more aggressive way. I should’ve known I was heading towards my own demise in that moment. Falling down a hole I’d lose myself entirely in. An electric pull on my heartstrings that kept me close to her.

Fuck, I should’ve known it was only the start.

A/N: I AM SOOOOO EXCITED TO GET THIS UP!!!! I wanna know all your thoughts!! Tell me everything!! I’m so so SO beyond excited to write more of this I’m screaming!!

Also- psa I know a ton of characters don’t talk/aren’t really in this one. I promise they will be further on! Just need to get an establishing shot first! 🖤

-> Next Part

[inkstainedheartbeats]

Part three of this

It’s three days after the negative pregnancy test. Three days of Steve practically tiptoeing around their apartment. And Eddie knows that it’s not personal. That Steve doesn’t even realize how soft and meek he’s gotten. Like a solid seventy-five percent of Hawkins his parents were both Betas. He knows that things weren’t shiny and happy in the Harrington household. That habits are hard to break. Look at him and his food hiding habits he still has even after living with the god amongst men that is his Uncle.

Robin knows. Robin knew the moment that Eddie called to tell her she needed to find another ride in to work. The Beta woman hasn’t left Steve’s side. Stuck to him like a limpet.

They’re sitting at the table. Steve across from Eddie, their feet touching, with Robin resting her head on Steve’s shoulder. Breakfast is growing cold in front of them.

“You said some of it was me,” Steve starts off before cutting himself off. He takes a big bite out of his eggs. Robin makes an encouraging sound from next to him.

“Look, I slept through most of health class. But when we got serious I went to Uncle Wayne.”

Admitting this gets him small smiles, Robin even reaches a hand over to place on his. He knows she’ll always take Steve’s side, that to love one means to love the other so this act of kindness is… it makes him brave.

“One of the reasons that Alphas don’t tend to bare children isn’t just society being fucking sexist. It’s because Alphas produce a hormone that neither of the other secondaries can. And like, normally it doesn’t matter. But it makes pregnancies harder on Alphas. Wayne gave me all sorts of pamphlets on Alpha health, got me in contact with an Alpha ex of his.”

He’s squeezing Robin’s hand.

“I can’t loose you, Steve. I know we’re waiting to Mark each other, I understand why we’re waiting but even without the physical evidence of it, you are my Mate. And if I lost you?”

It was the threat of losing Steve to Vecna that had him breaking the control the bastard had on him. It was the sight of Steve bleeding yet again, standing in front of El, head tilted back like Chrissy’s that had him snapping. Steve was it for him. His heart knew it before his head did and he knows Steve is much the same. He saw proof of it in how skinny Steve was. How rumpled and ill kept he was.

“I am open to children. I would love to see you round and waddling with my pups inside you, Steve, but I am a coward.”

“You’re not. You’re not a coward, Eds.”

Steve’s pushed back his chair from the table. Clambered up onto his lap. Wide hands are buried deep in his hair. They’re not kissing, not yet. Not with Robin in the room. Because kissing like this never stays kissing and while Steve tells her everything she doesn’t want a front row seat to it all.

Steve pours out his own fears. Of his father. Of his mother who tried but still failed in the grand scheme of things. His health.

“I’ve had so many concussions, Eds. Literal brain damage that will some day come and bite me in the ass.”

They’re honest with each other with Robin as their witness. It feels like confession. It feels like marriage. Like a divine oath.

“You make me feel brave, Eds. I’m not scared of this with you at my side.”

“Lady Buckley, might I advise you to flee this luxurious castle for… a couple of hours? I need to show my King just how brave he makes me feel.”

———/———/———/———/———/——

He’s still scared shitless when they test again. It’s been six months and Eddie has fucked Steve on nearly every available surface at every opportunity he can. His stomach rolls and breakfast threatens to make a reappearance. But Steve is in his lap while they sit in the tub.

He’s not quite sure why they have to be in here but something about bathrooms makes Steve feels safe so this is where he sits. He squeezes Steve tight against him as they wait for time to move on by. When the scent of joy fills the bathroom he laughs.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes out.

“Yeah, thank fuck,” Steve echos.

And if they fuck like rabbits in that tub no one has to know.

———/———/———/———/———/——

Hope you don’t mind me tagging you in the resolution @xxbottlecapx

[ohbo-ohno]

Vampire!Soap with his Sire, Vampire!Ghost (who turned him by force), and their shared captive bloodbag, the Reader. Maybe you’re a Hunter, maybe you’re just unlucky, either way you wind up chained to the floor in their lair and being given just barely enough to be alive and useful. While they’re waiting until you have enough blood to be fed from again, they fuck you while you close your eyes and try not to scream because it just gets them off more. Eventually the longer they keep you the more fond they become, and the more luxuries you’ll be afforded, like a pile of fluffy blankets, a stuffed toy or two, outside time (monitored, of course), and even time without your collar.

~🦋 (yes I’m still alive and I’m still being weird about stuffed animals. Don’t call your autistic kids mature for their age and put them in GAT programs when they’re 9 or they’ll end up like me. Still sleeping with a mountain of stuffies and also being horny about it.)

big big fan of vampire au's where the human's emotions affect the way they taste

ghost likes the spice to your blood when you're afraid, so he likes to make himself as big as possible before he pins you to the ground to feed. he likes to chase you a bit, to give you a chance of escaping so he can taste your devastation when he wraps an arm around your stomach and holds you to him

johnny likes the sweet taste of you when you're coming for him. loves the overwhelming rush of endorphins he can literally taste, always overwhelms you with sensation just before getting you off when he wants to feed. likes to hurt you just a bit while getting you off, scrambles your little brain up until you have no idea what you're feeling (likes to moan in your ear about how much you enjoy it, how he can taste that you like it)

one of the most appealing things to me about captive blood bag vampire au's is the like... necessary aftercare, kinda? like ghost and johnny need you to stay alive, so they might do all sorts of horrible and cruel things to you when they want to feed (ie: whenever they want), but they'll hand feed you your favorite foods and keep you tucked up in a soft nest to rest

ghost in particular takes special enjoyment in bandaging your bites. he's got a sort of fascination with how humans heal (he's old enough that he hardly remembers what it was like to have a scab) and he checks your wounds on an extremely strict schedule. likes to compare your bruises, compare your scars and see how they're healing. never lets you hide from him or try to take care of the wounds yourself - if he did it to you, he's taking care of it too

johnny likes to use you as essentially a body pillow/emotional support human. he gets real needy after he feeds, and you're too weak to try and move away from him, so cuddles post-feeding aren't optional. it's not rare for ghost to find the two of you curled up in bloody sheets - no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to train johnny out of being a messy eater

[juneknight]

Pretend

Kink: Virginity

Jake/f!reader

*

“Would you pretend?” he asks against your mouth, both your lips swollen from the heated kisses you’ve been sharing. The back of Jake’s car is downright luxurious, plenty of room for someone to kneel, seats soft and clean and wide enough for a body to lay on. Most nights when he wants to go cruising, the two of you end up like this in a parking garage or on a back road.

“Pretend what?” you ask, brain moving slow, like it has been dipped in molasses.

“Pretend it’s your first time,” he says. The two of you had been swapping stories about how you lost your virginities—it had made Jake delightfully jealous, you had thought, his hands tightening on the wheel when you discussed the naive, shy way you had touched another man. But then he had pulled off the nearest exit and driven you here to a secluded spot where the pavement had turned to gravel. “Pretend you’re a virgin. Would you?”

“You’d like that?” you wonder, a little baffled. But before he can answer, you slip into the role. You let your eyes soften, a hint of anxiety in them. Your voice quivers a little, fingers playing with the loops of his belt as you say: “I thought most guys didn’t like inexperienced girls.”

Jake groans. He fucking moans at the way your voice shakes, the way your hands flutter away from where you truly want to touch him, the way you look up through your lashes at him, like there’s a need inside you that you don’t understand but desperately need him to quash. He leans down and mouths at your neck softly. “Most guys don’t. But something about it makes me crazy.”

“You’d be my first?” you ask him, breathless with hope. “You’d be okay with that? Being the first inside me?”

His hips jerk against yours, cock brushing your pussy through your denim and his own slacks. “Yes, fuck, yes!”

“But…but Jake—your cock feels so big—what if it doesn’t fit?” you ask.

“Sweet little pussies like yours will stretch, baby,” he says, hips beginning a slow series of grinding thrusts against you. You try to meet him clumsily, even though you know him and his body so well, even though the rhythm you both have established is so solid that it’s hard not to be in sync with him. “You were made to take a cock like mine.”

God help you, because you feel your own blood rising at this little charade. Something about how aroused Jake is arouses you to a degree you hadn’t expected. Your legs shake around him.

“Jake, fuck, it feels good,” you whine, tilting your hips to welcome his own more easily. “Is it going to feel like this when you—when you put it inside me?”

“Better,” he groans. “So, so much better.”

“Feels like, like it does when I touch myself at night,” you gasp, letting your mouth quirk into a grin that borders on evil where he cannot see. “Feels like I’m gonna cum, Jake.”

Jake’s the one who cums, body stiffening, sucking in a breath through his teeth as his cock twitches in his pants. You loop your legs around his waist, helping him to thrust more firmly against you, groaning softly and tangling your fingers in his curls to scratch at his scalp with your blunt nails.

“Fuck,” he gasps, shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“Which of us was the virgin that time?” you tease.

He rolls you both onto your sides and swats your ass.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 5

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 9684

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, UST, Idiots to Lovers

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Not even the 1000 thread-count, egyption cotton goose down stuffed, softest and most beautiful feeling against the bare skin of your legs luxury blanket could save the shit show that was the sleep you got that night.

You could lie to yourself and say that the reason you were lying here with your eyes wide open staring at the ceiling was the shrieking 150-mile per hour winds that were making this entire building groan, tremble, and shake maybe hard enough for thousands of pounds of bricks and steel to crash down on top of your head, but the real reason you were awake was because of the man who was sound asleep on the end furthest away from you of this big room.

While it was the sound of the storm that woke you up, once you were awakened, you found it impossible to fall back asleep. You had no idea what time it was and the second your mind awoke it betrayed you. It was the remnants of a dream that was interrupted. The imagery of the dream faded nearly instantly but you didn’t need the details to recognize the subject of your dream. That familiar face that had been haunting you for months and after the mistake he made tonight, that face and specifically those lips seemed to have been knitted into the fabric of your subconscious.

You rubbed your eyes. The view of the underside of the bunk bead on top of you was nearly as black as the inside of your eyelids had been. You felt the last bits of the dream slip away. It didn’t matter much because your brain simply switched from trying to grab ahold of the dream to sinking down hard into the very recent, very real actual memory of Kyungsoo’s lips and unimaginable softness of them. His lips and his teeth and his tongue and the pull from him. From his mouth, from his arms, from somewhere deep inside of his chest when he inhaled his air right from within your mouth and pulled and pulled from the center of you right smack into the center of him.

Of all the things he could have done. Of all the things he always did.It was almost as if he was tuned in and hyper aware of all of your weaknesses and ready to exploit each one of them at a moment's notice. Your sleepy mind tried to grasp it, desperate to explain it — him kissing you, and that kiss being just a drunken mistake, it felt like just another way for him to mock you.

Of course he had no way of knowing how long it had been since a handsome man had showed you attention. You hoped he couldn’t tell just how desperate you felt for it, for the touches, for the kisses, for the sex — all of it. You’d probably die on the spot if those things were also accompanied by someone also being nice to you.

This was Doh Kyungsoo you were talking about. Not only did the man despise you but he sought out to actively torture you on the daily. Before it was online but now he’d been doing it in person and what if this — what if this fucking kiss had also just been something he did for his own sick amusement because he knew you would wake up at 2 or 3 or 4am and be unable to sleep because if you touched your own lips ever so lightly with your fingertips it kinda sorta reminded you of the way it felt for that terrifyingly beautiful man to kiss you.

You dropped your hand from your face and you tossed over to your side on the bed. It squeaked as you moved and you wondered at his ability to sleep through the scariest and loudest winds you’ve ever heard in person.

Your body woke up and now you could feel your bladder calling. Any more attempts at sleep were finished.

You grabbed your flashlight and plopped your feet down on the floor, covering the beam with the palm of your hand so the whole room wasn’t lit up like the Fourth of July and with the tiny bit of light you allowed to escape you were able to navigate the straight shot between the bunks toward the bathrooms.

You had to walk by his bed to get there and you squeezed your hand around your flashlight tighter as you did it, not in any hurry to wake your own personal demon any earlier than you absolutely had to.

From the motionlessness of that tightly covered bastard sized lump on his bed, he was clearly not bothered by the storm enough to be pulled from his deep sleep.

After using the bathroom and washing your hands, all with the flashlight turned off for maximum discretion, you took a barefooted step on the floor and stepped on something hard and plastic. It hurt and you lifted your foot when you put it back down your foot landed down on something sticky and cool feeling. The room smelled overwhelmingly of peppermint.

You had to use the flashlight. You wrapped it in your sleep shirt as tightly as you could manage and you turned it on.

Toothpaste. Blue toothpaste, the kind with the tiny bits of sparkly confetti inside of it that was probably terrible for the environment. It was everywhere. There were long strands of it squirted clear across the floor in front of this sink and even several streaks on the mirror on the wall. The toothpaste cap was the piece of plastic you had stepped on and you recalled how you had tried to ignore the sounds of a great struggle you had heard in here last night after you had gone to bed. You’d heard deep grunting, water running, items clattering, and the occasional drunken mumble. You were entirely too upset at the time to even want to help him and you had some dark thoughts about how even if he slipped and broke his neck you wouldn’t even consider getting up to cover his body with a sheet. It seemed a certain overly indulgent drunk man had fought a great battle here with a tube of toothpaste and you looked down at the wrangled and crumpled capless tube that sat on the edge of the sink here and the toothbrush very carefully balanced beside it.

You, yourself, were fighting your own battle right now. You grabbed the toothbrush he’d so stupidly left behind and you lifted your foot, scooping every bit of that thick peppermint gunk off of the bottom of your foot, using the water to rinse it so you could go in again, this time using the bristles to thoroughly clean in between your toes. While he deserved it, you decided against scrubbing this whole floor or god forbid the mirror, sink and even the toilet with the thing, not because you had any sort of bad feelings about it, but because you didn’t want to work that hard at maybe 2, maybe 3, maybe 4 in the fucking morning when you should be asleep rather than be on fire from the inside and cleaning up the mess he made when he was too drunk to control himself. Instead you grabbed toilet paper to clean up the remainder of the mess and tossed the whole thing inside of the big trash bin. The entire room smelled delightful.

His toothbrush got one more pass over the bottom of your foot before you carefully placed it right back in the same spot he had left it next to the now capped tube of his toothpaste. You’d smoothed out some of those deep wrinkles caused by his careless fingers. The volume inside was much less but at least it looked somewhat normal again.

You didn’t bother with covering your flashlight as you exited. You were done with it. With feeling bad about possibly waking him up, with feeling bad for having wanted him so badly last night, with feeling any sort of way about him whatsoever. You simply moved through the room as if you were it’s only occupant and you could hardly even hear the low bellied groaning that was coming from that bed when the bright beam of your LED flashlight just happened to make a few careless passes over his bed.

You saw his closed eyes tighten and arms tensed as he pulled his crappy loser’s blanket tightly over his head. You heard the lowest curse under his breath when his hands flew up to cradle his head and he groaned out in pain.

He’d be waking up to a hangover for sure. He’d have a killer headache made so much worse by the loud sounds of the wind outside and the bright flashlight in his face. He’d be feeling even more miserable than you felt right now.

“What — time is it?” He groaned, reaching out with wandering hands within his blanket until he found something — his phone, he groaned while dropping the phone within his blankets again. You could see he’d connected his phone to charge on the snazzy portable power bank he’d won in the games. You’d won no such prize and even if you did charge it, your phone didn’t have any signal or any real purpose to serve for you to bother with charging it. Before it went out you could see that the clock on his black phone screen said 4:35am. You’d managed to get a little more sleep than you thought.

“Why are you up?” He’d obviously seen you, he’d obviously figured you’d been the one to shine the flashlight right in his face. His voice was low and very groggy sounding, “storm woke you up?” The word sexy flashed through your mind quickly and it stung like a rubber band against the flesh as you pushed it deep down.

You’d long ago dropped the flashlight from his face but something in his line of questioning had you caught off guard. Doh Kyungsoo didn’t usually ask you much about you. He felt different in his sleep. It was odd and you let the flashlight sag down just behind your back, just enough for the light beam to be more of a distant afterthought than a blinding occurrence.

“Can’t sleep,” you admitted in a whisper just quietly enough for the words to be made out over the sound of the storm.

His questions had stopped and you wondered if he had fallen back asleep but another look at him told you he wasn't sleeping but had gone silent because he was beginning to really feel it. You could see how he massaged his temples with the thumbs of both hands and after a few moments you heard another low groan of pain.

“What’s wrong?” You asked without any of the well earned smugness you really deserved, “drank too much last night?”

He rolled under his blanket and the groan turned into a moan. It sounded like he was in pain. It was a pain sound, not a sound that could be misinterpreted by your silly 4:35am brain to sound like anything else; this low throaty moaning was the sound of a man deep into the throes of regret, physical pain, probably nausea, and even more regret. In fact, you hoped and prayed that regret was the primary symptom and everything else was just a bonus.

“Do you usually make a big mess of things when you drink?”

He was sitting up. He was moving.His eyes were closed and his mouth was open. His cheeks were flushed and pink and his hair was standing up in places. You could smell the stale stench of alcohol coming from him in waves.

“I don’t — usually — get drunk — easily.” His words came out staggered. While he might have brushed his teeth last night, he hadn’t figured out the genius way to shower without risking being fully nude in an open room right next to your arch nemesis like you had. His blanket was tossed away and he was placing both feet on the floor and he reached out a hand to touch the wall for balance.

“Fucking Javier,” you heard him mumble under his breath, of course blaming someone else for the problems he caused himself. He had a hand outstretched to you now, his squint so severe as he turned in the direction of you and your blinding flashlight that you didn’t think his eyes were open at all, “can you — turn that off?” he pleaded.

“Turn what off?” You lifted the flashlight and waved it around the room, sending jolts and waves of bright light all around you, being sure to pass a few bright beams right toward his face. “This?” You shook it a little. His hands flew up to cover his face. “How will you see? It’s completely dark without it.”

“Please,” he groaned again and he was pushing with his feet, standing up on two of the wobbliest legs you’ve ever seen a man standing on.

He’d made the two steps required to get out from between his bed and the wall and the second he reached the space where you stood and had removed his security hand from the wall that was keeping him grounded, you pushed the button to turn off the light, sending you both in the blackest darkness you thought possible.

He made a sound. A mixture between a yelp and a whimper and you heard the smallest shuffle of feet taking itty bitty steps forward. He was quietly cursing again. You knew he’d been disoriented now. You’d had a good look at your position in the room before you’d turned out the light and you knew the exact number of steps and the exact direction you needed to take to get back to the comfort and security of your bed. You’d even memorized the number of bunk beds you’d need to pass to get to yours.

Something had your feet stalled though. You kind of wanted to see how he fared.

You heard the moment he went for a bigger step by the collision his shin made with the cold hard metal of the edge of the bunk. He hadn’t cleared the obstacle completely before he went for it and instantly there was a deep gasp of air, a hiss from the pain and another deep throated curse word, probably in many ways directed at you.

“A-Are you still here?” That was absolutely directed at you. You heard more movement. More small steps and you could hear it closer to where you stood listening over the sounds of that storm that raged outside and you waited for something awful to happen.

When something awful happened it wasn’t inside of this room though, a bang sound, it felt and sounded like a bomb, it hit so sudden and felt so shocking, so loud, so much louder than anything you’d ever heard, the thunderous boom of a thunderclap that must have hit extreme close by — from the nearly instantaneous flash of light that echoed through the bathroom from those tiny windows, maybe even hit the building itself and you screamed and jumped so hard with the shock you dropped your flashlight and heard it clanking down somewhere at your feet and the telltale sounds of it rolling somewhere in this room, somewhere under a bed maybe, somewhere far away in the absolute pitch blackness of a room with at least 10 pinky toe breaking metal bed frames and zero ideas where to start looking.

“Fuck,” he swore outloud at the same time as you screamed, “fuck — that was close.”

“Can — can you turn the light back on?”

You had uncovered your ears and lifted your head back up from the cowering position and after a few moments you registered his question.

“I dropped it. I got scared and I dropped it.”

“You dropped the only light we have?” His voice suddenly had all of the familiar tones of judgements and sass that you’d grown so accustomed to hearing from him and you rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t able to see it, it still made you feel marginally better.

“We? Honey, that was my own personal flashlight to drop.”

“Well shit. Well done, Princess,” you could hear him moving again, this time closer to where you still stood. You suddenly felt nervous that you might lose your carefully mapped mental layout of this room if you moved too much.

“Wait a minute,” his movement stopped, “you never won a flashlight.”

You were grateful for the darkness. You hadn’t figured out your cover story for how you got one of Sara’s stolen flashlights yet.

“I brought it with me,” you lied and you heard the smallest scoff from him.

“Are you kidding me?” The sounds of his shuffling grew much closer and began to wonder what on earth he was even doing. If he was looking for the bathrooms he was going the wrong way.

“You didn’t even bring a charger for your phone. You — You,” he emphasized the target of his rant, “You, vapid, social media addicted, attention desperate, doom scroller who hasn’t gone a single hour without posting something in the last four years, You haven’t posted a single thing about this trip.” You frowned at the man, annoyed once again that he seemed to know way too much about you at all times.

“So that means that you didn’t even get,” he continued, “an — an international SIM card for your phone, and you expect me to believe that you had the circumspection, mental preparedness, and forethought to bring a flashlight on this trip?”

“A friend gave it to me here,” you confessed too quickly, making every word you’d ever said in the past and every word you’d ever say in the future forever sound suspicious even though it was purely the guilt you felt for receiving that stolen flashlight; you didn’t win any games to earn such a precious thing — not quite knowing why you would bother to feel guilty about it but feeling a the guilt nonetheless.

“Bullshit,” he declared, now that you’d come up with a second, back up story your credibility was shot. “You stole it. Or the friend stole it. Which means it isn’t really yours.” There was effort in his voice. He was moving roughly, doing something in the darkness that made his words come out jagged.

You heard him a split second before you felt the blow. You felt a swinging arm collide roughly with you at probably the speed of an actual punch and instantly a sharp jolt of pain surged through your chest, namely your left boob. The pain was overwhelming in an instant and it took your air from your lungs as it radiated through your entire chest. You yelped out in a cry of pain and that hand that had collided with you, paired with the other, very suddenly reached out for your shoulders, gripping and rubbing up and down lightly.

“Shit, sorry — sorry, I didn’t mean — fuck, I’m sorry,” he was talking fast in an instant. He was apologizing and the sound of his voice was so much softer and devoid of his usual sarcasm, more than you’d ever heard from him. “Where did I hit you? I can’t see anything, fuck, you know I wasn’t trying to hit you, right? God, I’m so sorry.”

You were gasping as the pain slowly began to turn from that sharp burn and it shifted into a slower moving throbbing ache and through clenched teeth you answered, “you got me right in the tit.” You lifted your hand and rubbed over it, “fuck,” you added, unable to pretend like it didn’t hurt just for the sake of the genuine apologies that flew out of his mouth, because it really actually did hurt.

“Goddamn,” he whispered. Now that his hands were on you, you noticed he wasn’t letting go, but probably using you as some sort of a landmark so he could figure out which direction to travel. He inhaled a breath and his hands rubbed up and down your arms once more. He was rubbing you in the way that someone might rub over the injury, but it wasn’t as if he could do that.

“D-Do you want to hit me too? So are we even?”

You felt one of his hands leave your shoulder, moving downward and he reached down to grab ahold of your hand. He lifted it and with his other hand he very carefully closed your fingers, folding them into your palm to make you make a fist. You felt him pull your fist and you heard the smallest sound from his mouth, a punching sound effect as he softly pushed your fist into his chest.

“Here you can hit me,” he whispered, “that might not hurt the same,” he paused and lifted your hand, touching lightly over your fingers to readjust your fist form and you felt him pull it into the softness of his cheek where his cheekbone was. “Here, it’ll hurt here. Hit me here.”

You didn’t even feel the pain anymore. You hadn't said anything to him either and you felt an oddness deep inside of you with the unusually soft way he was talking to you. With the under layer of silliness you could hear in his voice with the sounds of your fake punches he acted out by pulling your fist into his face again and again. You put no strength into it though, you just let him move your hand into him again and again until he went motionless with his hand still wrapped around your wrist up near his face.

After a few moments of your inaction and silence he inhaled to speak.

“You okay?” You weren’t.

You didn’t answer him. This was too hard already. This version of him, this sweet, silly man that he never ever gave you any of, this handsome and charming and talented man who wanted absolutely nothing to do with you as a person — you, the vapid attention whore without the mental acumen to even consider bringing along a charger for her phone and you hadn’t even known an international SIM card was even a thing but that was just who you were. And he’d really rather get drunk out of his mind than spend any time alone with you sober.

You felt it then. This was hopeless. You and your stupid habits. You and your entire life lived without anything worth a damn to show for it except for a stolen flashlight and even that you couldn’t hold on to.

Kyungsoo spoke again, only this time and for the first time in all of you knowing him, you heard him whisper something unimaginable. He called out your name. There was that same sound of worry on his voice and the hand he had your wrist held in shifted and you felt it open, you felt his fingers wrap around your hand and he squeezed down around your closed fist, saying your name again with another, “hey, come on, you okay?”

He must have heard the first few sniffles from your nose even over the sound of the storm.

“Come on, say you’re okay.” He pleaded lightly, “I’m sorry I was doing speedy windmill arms during a blackout and accidentally punched you in the tit. Come on, you’re supposed to get mad at me and punch me in the face and call me a rat bastard.” He lifted your hand again and made the pow-pow-pow sounds with his mouth.

The surprise of his candor brought the smallest laugh out of your chest, against your will. He was shaking your hand down near his thigh with the words he was saying.

You pushed lightly against his chest with your free hand and wriggled your other hand free from within his closed grip. He let you go easily but you still felt his fingertips lingering just over your forearm. He didn’t want to lose your position again.

“Why the hell were you doing that anyway?”

“I don’t know. I’m an idiot. I was trying to find you and I got too into it. What’s it feel like? Getting hit in the tit?”

“It fucking hurts, Stupid. Want me to kick you in the nuts so we can compare on a pain scale of one to ten?”

You lifted a knee halfway up. You felt the clench of his muscles when you said it and his hands moved down in alarm, one arm blocking over his crotch and the other arm you felt his entire hot hand land over your bare thigh. You weren’t really going to do it but it was still fun to witness him panic like this. He had been so fast to block it and it brought another small giggle from you which thankfully was blocked out by another loud thunder boom.

You could feel him moving now. The perceived crisis with him actually physically hitting you with his hands instead of the usual wounds made with his words was over for now and you could feel the grip of his hands pulling on your night shirt as he moved away from you now.

“Which direction are you going?” Whatever he was seeking, you still had the layout of this place well ingrained in your head and you could probably help, for the sake of both of you who were trapped in this situation together. It really was in your best interest to find some light. You knew of three sources, a tiny lightbulb that could be turned on with the red light switch on the wall located somewhere deep in that bathroom that was connected to the emergency generator, the red electrical socket near his bed which was also connected and his own cell phone, which should be easily findable if he just found his bed frame first, which should be about five steps behind him to the right.

“Your bed is behind you, to the right. Just look for your bed and get your phone.” You applauded yourself for being so helpful to someone who deserved so little and you heard the soft grunt of approval from him as he turned and let go of your shirt.

“Five steps back, then turn right and it’s right there.”

You heard some silence and then you heard hands running over fabric. It felt, to your ears, like he might not quite have listened to your directions though. He was coming from the left side of you. You heard a few straining sounds and more hands running over fabric.

“This isn’t my bed,” he said from somewhere in the distance, “you said right? Your right? My right? Whose fucking right?”

You felt it then, the panic for your slip. Again. Again and again.

“Uhh,” you whispered, knowing you’d done it again. “It’s to the left, my left. I got them mixed up again.”

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say under his breath and he was moving again, presumably making his way around the wrong bed, headed twice as far now in the correct direction, “they never change. I don't understand how you can’t learn something that never changes. What if you just call it something else? Okay, which direction from you is the bathroom?”

“I don't know. Left?” You got it right because it was fresh in your mind. That was the way he was supposed to go for his bed. Left. You knew it would vanish if any significant amount of time passed though.

“Okay so instead of left, let’s call that ‘interior,’ and right can be ‘exterior.’”

You’d never thought about naming them something else before but you felt more and more exhausted the longer he talked about this. It was too damn early for this kind of lesson on language and you could feel your mind beginning to drift the longer he nagged about it. You must have let out a long and tired sounding sigh.

“Calling it ‘interior’ is kind of…” you were grumbling at this point. You didn’t really care enough about being right all the time, especially if it meant that he got to struggle a little harder whenever you were wrong, “kind of weird,” you finished your critique of his choice of words.

“Yeah, I know, right? If only they had perfect names already, like East and West, or Right and Left. Lift up your interior hand.”

You sighed and lifted the hand that was closest to the bathroom and you did it instantly and you let out a surprised little “oh.”

“Did it work? Is the hand closest to my voice?” he asked, and you flinched and squinted when the room was suddenly lit up. He had his flashlight on his cell phone illuminated and you were standing with your ‘interior’ hand lifted high up into the air just as he had told you.

“Exterior hand,” he said and you quickly dropped the left and raised the right hand.

“Okay now turn around.” You felt his fingers land on your shoulders and he was pushing you to spin around in a circle and you rolled your eyes as if this little brain rewiring thing he was doing would even work with you.

“Remember, ‘interior’ is always going to be this side of you, even if the bathroom moves.” He tapped your left side lightly with his fingertips.

“Exterior,” he said much too loudly for not even five in the morning and you lifted the right arm easily. You could make out his hair bouncing with the nodding up and down of his head and he called out the other side, smiling lightly as you responded as he wanted you to. He did it a few more times and you were getting sick of this, shaking your head and scowling at him because you were done. You don't want to learn anymore. You were too old and you were tired.

“East!” He shouted, his voice in full volume with his arms outstretched in some mysterious direction toward the wall behind his bed. You just shook your head and crossed your arms in front of your chest. It was clear to anyone that you were done cooperating with this man. “Come on. That way is east, so the other way is west.” He was reaching with his voice. You had already taken several steps away from him and all of his effort to make you a better person. He could fuck right off with that — and at five in the morning.

“Bed!” you shouted. You were done. You were spinning on your heels, spotting your flashlight easily near one of the beds about the middle of the room thanks to the light on his phone that illuminated the room enough. You reached down and picked it up. “Flashlight!” you shouted, matching his crazed enthusiasm for directions of all things and by the time you’d made it back to the sanctity of your bed, away from any more grand life lessons he had already given up on you and had disappeared into the bathroom, taking his light with him. You could see the glow in the room, disappearing further into the room and it grew fainter as he used the toilet, becoming a little brighter as he went to the sink to wash his hands and becoming even brighter still when he emerged at the bathroom door. All you saw was a bright circle of light. You couldn’t make out what he was holding behind the blinding light that was facing in your direction.

Apparently, all it took was some exhausting educational lessons to make you feel very sleepy. You had already covered your head with your winner’s blanket to drown out the sounds of the wind and the rain outside as well as the sounds of anything else that man might want to say to you.

You could still hear enough though and his next question managed to seep through the layers of feathers and one thousand threads per square whatever and his question pulled you up from the sleep you were falling deep into.

“Hey! Did you throw away like half of my toothpaste?”

He must have been cleaning up for the day already. After you didn’t respond to him you drifted off to the sounds of the running shower somewhere on the other side of that wall.

When you woke back up it must have been hours later. You felt so much more energized than when you had woken up in the middle of the night. A quick stretch with plenty of stretching noises preceded your sitting up on the bed and shoving your blanket off of your groggy body but something felt different about the sounds in this room. Everything felt so quiet. You looked around, listening for sounds of him, for sounds of the storm outside and there was an eeriness about the silence that made you wonder if perhaps the storm was over and he had left this place, leaving you to navigate the maze of spiders and dark spooky hallways all alone.

You stood up and made your way through the bunks, seeing that all of his belongings were still exactly where he had left them and the bathroom sink still had his toothpaste and toothbrush — you felt the bristles and could feel a dampness that told you that yes, the man had used the foot scrubbing toothbrush this morning and after the tit punch, you refused to feel bad about it — as well as a few bottles of shampoo and that one bar of soap that Mr. Chen had passed out to everybody last night. Clearly he had just left you to sleep in after his early morning shower and you wondered if he was already eating something delicious for breakfast without you.

You were hungry but more importantly you needed the bathrooms. Without any real fear of him barging in on you now you took just a bit of extra care getting ready. You’d picked out one of your cutest outfits from your suitcase, the one that you were sure was supposed to grab the attention of all of the most handsome and charming men at the Shady Sands Resort single’s retreat and you even took care to get your makeup looking fresh and not overly done, making sure the view from behind showcased your greatest assets, the shape of your ass and your waist that you’d been specifically working on for months at the gym. So what if there were no men you were interested in here. There was one man you were at least interested in torturing a little bit here. That would have to serve as your entertainment.

As you made your way down the hallway toward the blue door of the kitchen you could hear the faint thumping of music playing behind the door.

You pulled the door open and you were greeted by a few familiar faces, apart from Sara, each one looked just a little bit tired and green around the edges. Sara and Mr. Chen sat on one side of the kitchen counter, Javier was on the other side with a — god bless him — coffee pot full of black gold, and Kyungsoo sat with his head thrown back and his eyes closed in what looked to be a rather groggy but freshly showered state. His hair was completely dry and the way it moved you could tell just how soft it must feel to the fingers — should someone wish to do such a thing with his hair and their fingers, these were hypothetical fingers. Definitely not your fingers.

“Good morning!” Mr. Chen forced the smile to his face to see you and you caught the shift in Kyungsoo’s posture as he straightened his shoulders, turned his head toward you and opened his eyes. You tried not to linger too long inside of his eyes and you noticed once he looked at you he quietly turned his head and looked away from you just as quickly as you had done to him.

Sara and Javier seemed to be working on something together, there were stacks of ingredients for breakfast and seeing the ingredients alone had your stomach begging for some food. You didn’t see Jun or Roxy around and you felt just a little bit like a responsible adult for not being the last one to wake up today.

“Jun and Roxy had to leave early this morning,” Mr. Chen burst your responsible adult bubble, “Roxy’s mom lives on the island and her home sustained some heavy damage from the winds last night so they went to help out. We are still in the eye of the storm, but the south side is projected to be much weaker, so hopefully the worst of it is over.”

Left behind on the table near the white board were the prizes they had won last night and you wondered if there would be more games to claim them or if that camping stove and fuel cans were now officially communal.

The white board hadn’t changed much since last night. Your column had an extra warning about your low alcohol tolerance, instructions to make drinks at half strength, and the word ‘fall risk’ written there too but there were no equal warnings next to Kyungsoo’s name. In fact it seemed that he had very little negative things written in his column at all. On paper this guy was perfect. Meanwhile you could still feel the remnants of him all over you. Mostly from the self-inflicted obsessive thoughts about the kiss, but your boob was still just a little sore when you’d put on your bra this morning.

They obviously didn’t know about his secret drinking habits that liked to come out only when there were no witnesses.

“Javier was serving coffee and you gratefully accepted a cup, pulling a seat up to sit right beside Kyungsoo at this counter as you watched Sara carefully arranging utensils for cooking.

Yet no actual cooking was being done and you began to get that same old familiar feeling that something was afoot. There would be some sort of competition. Beside you, Kyungsoo refused to look at you and seemed to only focus on his coffee in front of him with the occasional hand lifted to massage his temples. He still had the headache.

You reached into your front pocket and pulled out the little foil pack you usually carried with you at all times, some pain relievers for when womanly aches and pains simply became too much to handle and you tossed the little packet on the counter right beside him.

His head ticked toward the sound and he looked down at your offering; his big eyes popping up to look into yours. He didn’t grab it right away and you leaned your head toward him, urging him to just take it with a small disarming smile. It was the least you could do; an apology in advance for what you were about to do to him. You turned away from him and lifted your coffee for a sip. Out of your peripheral vision you could see him reach for the foil packet and he was opening it when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Javier,” you spoke-up clearly, “I think Kyungsoo’s drinks need to be made at least half as strong from now on.” You lifted a hand and pointed toward the white board, specifically meaning the section under his name that was missing the same sorts of warnings as yours displayed.

In an instant, you had the attention of everyone in the room.

“He’s got quite a doozy of a drinking habit that I personally learned about first-hand after last night.”

You heard a sound come from beside you and you glanced to your ‘exterior’ side to see a pair of big brown beautiful eyes looking at you in alarm. Apparently, although the man was too drunk last night to act responsibly with his hands and more distressingly, his lips, he still remembered the entirety of the event. Tellingly, his wide eyes looked down at your lips and back up again into your eyes before his face flushed and he swallowed the mouthful of coffee he had in his mouth.

You looked at him and he looked at you with his cheeks, his neck, and his ears slowly turning a bright red with the memory you had just dragged up. In his hands was the empty foil packet of the pills he had just taken for his headache. It would be a while before they started to work and he groaned beside you, closing his eyes and rubbing both of his hands over his face. It was embarrassment mixed with pain.

“I’m listening,” Mr. Chen had perked up from his own hangover headache and Sara had a positively wild eyed look in her eyes and an eager smile, ready to hear whatever bit of gossip you had to offer about the man who sat right beside you.

You giggled to yourself, “Apparently, when he’s very drunk,” you lifted a finger to gesture in his direction. His face was still covered with both of his hands as you began to speak, “he likes to go into the bathroom to brush his teeth and make the biggest mess with toothpaste you’ve ever seen.”

The hands dropped and he looked at you. His mouth hung open.

Their faces were amused, all but Kyungsoo who just looked at you with rapt attention. Based on his reaction, this was not the bombshell he thought you were about to drop.

“I even stepped in it at 4 in the morning in complete darkness, I stepped on something disgusting. It was so cold and wet. When I turned on the light my whole foot was covered in blue and there was toothpaste all over the floor, sprayed all over the mirrors and the walls. Like someone murdered a Smurf.” You were full on giggling and Kyungsoo had looked ahead of himself with both of his hands fisted in front of him and his bottom lip lightly bouncing off of his closed fists.

“What did you do? Did you wake him up and make him clean it himself?” Sara and Mr Chen shook their heads back and forth, clearly amused but Javier had been the one to ask the important question.

“Well, I had to clean it all, or course. It was a slipping hazard. I scrubbed my foot with a toothbrush I found in there — just left behind on the sink — green one, I think.”

You’d looked into his face when you said it and his open mouth fell even further before his jaw snapped shut and he looked ahead of himself, across the countertop toward Javier. His jaw was clenched down hard. His nostrils flared and he breathed hard, in and out.

“Got in between the toes and everything,” you smiled widely and Sara stifled a giggle in the palm of her hand. She was already headed to the white board and you heard squeaks as there was now a matching red note below his name to match yours. Both said ‘half strength drinks.’ You were satisfied with that much.

You’d spare the both of you the humiliation of bringing up the kiss, which would have been a bigger hoot with this crowd and would definitely garner another entry under that sad little heart column that sat between your names. There hadn’t been an entry there since early yesterday. If anything, he was lucky you’d stopped there with the grand revelations. He was glaring at you though, unable to be thankful for a damned thing you did for him, even as those pain medicines were dissolving in his stomach now and beginning to make their way into his bloodstream to take care of the lingering headache that the caffeine from his coffee hadn’t gotten rid of.

“Did you seriously scrub your foot with it?” He was speaking lowly to you while looking down at the empty pill foil. Looking just a little more queasy with each passing moment.

“Why — was that yours?” You shrugged and lifted your cup for a sip, “guess you’ll be happy to hear I showered last night. In fact I was just finishing up when you stumbled in there, Kyungsoo. Do you remember that, or were you too drunk for that too?”

His eyes were on you and he closed them slowly as he inhaled a calming breath.

“I — remember,” he confessed after several breaths.

“All of it?” you pushed back, strangely needing this spoken by him. He didn’t respond with words but you saw the strained single nod of his head and he inhaled a breath, lifting himself from the stool to move his empty coffee cup to the countertop beside the sink.

“Well…why’d you do that?” You’d started this talk with all of the false bravado you could dream up, but the longer it went on, the less gumption you found to fall back on. You’d begun to sound just a little unsure of yourself, just a little scared of the answers he would have for you. “Just to mess with me?” The last question came out meek and scared sounding.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he said in a single breath; his voice low yet direct with a hand raised to dismiss you entirely with a quick wave of his fingers.

Why did he get to decide that? Why was he the one who got to call the end of the conversation just because he couldn't really come face to face with the fact that he might be a bad guy?

“Hey, are you two still talking about the toothbrush?” Finished with her notes on the white board, Sara watched you both with suspicious eyes.

“Yes.”

”Yes,” you both answered at the exact same time and his eyes shot toward yours darkly, with a warning behind them for you to drop it. It wouldn't be discussed and it definitely wouldn't be happening again, not with the restrictions written into the rules of this retreat here.

“Okay, so half drinks for everyone, Javier. Mr. Chen looks rough this morning too.”

The head chef frowned his lips and nodded his head sheepishly.

Mr. Chen was taking his position at the front of the room and he cleared his throat. You knew to look for him for the instructions for whatever challenge you both would be presented with next and he clapped his hands quietly once and began to speak.

The challenge this morning was for breakfast. It seems you both would be cooking together again. That wasn’t new. The roles however were switched this time and much to your dismay you were going to be the one handling the ingredients and actually cooking them. Because Kyungsoo was an actual chef, he needed some sort of a handicap and Mr. Chen announced that Kyungsoo would not be able to use his voice during this cooking round but you could use all of your senses because, according to the three individuals who were in charge, you were a ‘liability.’ You frowned to hear this, feeling that maybe they had misjudged you. But at the same time not wanting to fight them too hard for them to blindfold as to disagree with them. If it meant you could keep your eyes, you would be their liability.

All of Kyungsoo’s instructions to you would need to be made with only his eyes and gestures, but touching was also allowed and highly encouraged. After the last cooking round where you’d spent much of the activity practically hugging the man, you hoped to god he was satisfied with your cooking skills enough to just let you figure it out yourself. You had one hour.

You at least knew enough to gather all of the veggies and take them to the sink to wash them and Kyungsoo was standing beside you with his eyes down on the ingredients looking at them individually and looking up at you. He did it a couple of times and you shook your head at him. Were you supposed to know what he was saying? This was bullshit. He was wasting time. You lifted an onion and asked “do you want me to cut this?” He shook his head.

“Do you want me to peel it?” was your next guess and that got another head shake. You were already frustrated. The man needed to do better than this.

“Do you want me to shove it up your ass?” There were giggles around the kitchen and he closed his eyes and inhaled a breath, then he looked up into the empty space above him for just a few seconds.

At last he moved. At last he lifted a hand and placed it on your forearm, lifting your hand lightly, he placed it on top of a tomato that sat beside the onion. He reached for your other hand and placed your hand on top of the knife handle and you gripped both.

“Cut?” You asked and finally, that got a nod. Jesus. You’d stab the man at this rate.

You held the tomato and made one cut right down the middle, cutting the thing in half. His eyes watched you and you couldn't quite make sense of the expression there but when you lifted one of the tomato halves to hold in your hand and you were about to cut out the inedible core, you felt him move quickly. With one swift hand, he slapped you on the back of the knife hand and he did it hard. It made you jump and gasp in shock. He had just slapped your hand like you were a misbehaving puppy.

Whatever it was that you were doing he didn’t like it. He was standing behind you and you could feel the warmth of his chest cover your back as he did this. His other hand wrapped around your tomato hand and he turned it around so the tomato was facing sliced side down on the cutting board. You saw him lift the hand that held the knife again, pointing the blade part toward your hand, he dropped it and made a little X shape with both of his fingers. He then turned the knife around, pointing the sharp point toward your body and again, made the same X shape with his fingers. You were corrected instantly, all sharp and pointy parts of the knife should point away from your body. He was saving you from slicing your hand off, or stabbing yourself in the stomach.

“Oh, don't stab myself to death — got it,” you whispered into the space in front of you. When you turned your head slightly to the ‘interior’ you could just make out his face there, super close to you.

You cut the stupid tomato into chunks. They were big and clunky but they were cut. He forced your hands into a certain shape and you were now picking the cutting board up and taking it over to set down beside the stove.

You felt like his puppet. He’d long given up on letting you take the reins after the first thing you tried to slice up was yourself, and you were now steered and directed by expert hands. Not only had you, as his avatar, managed to make something tasty and saucy with those tomatoes and a few other ingredients, but he now had you vigorously whipping up something thick and bright yellow that had butter and egg yolks, which were challenging to get out without breaking them. The sauce was coming out velvety and thick but he was shaking your hands so hard to get them to whisk faster the whole thing made you tremble and vibrate so much that every question you asked had a tremor that made you giggle and when you turned your head to look at him you caught the matching smile on his face that widened when he grabbed your hand again and shook you even harder.

When it was time to taste the sauce, your hand was simply grabbed, made to stick out your index finger and he dipped it right into the sauce, lifting it up to stick it into your own mouth.

“It’s good,” you declared and never one to take your word he was dipping your finger into the sauce and pulling your finger into his open mouth. You froze for a moment when he did it. His eyes were looking down at the sauce when he sucked on your finger but he must have felt the gasp for air you inhaled and it pulled his own eyes into your own. You pulled your own hand away, leaving behind his wet tongue and soft lips and those big brown eyes that looked into your own without saying a single word.

Something was happening inside of your chest. The close proximity paired with the scent of his soap and the warmth of his body had been taking its toll. You must have been imaging it to feel the soft grip he held your hand with as you poached the eggs. You must have imagined the soft caress of his thumb over the back of your hand and you froze almost entirely with the egg cooked to soft jiggly consistency suspended inside the slotted spoon. There was a plate with english muffins and thick cut ham slices ready to receive this egg but your stupid mind kept replaying the way his fingers traveled so slowly up your forearm to reach your hand, the gentle circles he touched into your skin, maybe giving you secret messages with scribed letters that told you things about the meaning behind that kiss last night.

You were stuck. The egg jiggled and he ran his hands up your arm slowly before he tap-tapped twice, lightly on your arm, urging you to turn around to deposit the thing on the plate so it could be finished off with sauce. You were a mess though. What was he doing to you? This felt like a trick of your mind. He was just trying to cook using your hands and you were imagining that his touches were softer and more meaningful than they were. That inhale he took from your neck and the softest groan that you felt echoed through your chest didn’t solve any of your mysteries either. You were stuck.

It was him that moved you. You felt his arm wrap around your waist and the warmth of his chest pressed into your back, his chin landed over your shoulders, dipping his cheek against yours; you felt the warm exhale against the skin of your neck and his hand landed just under your breasts, gripping you tightly, high around the rib cage. He lifted you and spun you around, bringing your inaction, your confusion, and your jiggly egg along for the ride and he placed you down not with a rough drop but with a gentle and careful slip down the length of his body behind you, you slid right down in place in front of the plate. There was a movement of his hand, he rotated your spoon and the egg landed with a soft plop where he wanted it.

You turned to look at his face. You needed so many more clues than he was giving you and you found his brown eyes watching you with something unreadable happening inside of them. Those eyes looked into your own and unimaginably, they touched down the length of your face and landed on your lips. Unimaginably, you did the same thing and when it all became too much you simply closed your eyes, finding that the thumping of his heart beating inside of his chest seemed to match the racing you felt happening inside of your own.

With your eyes closed you could feel some of your mind returning to you. You could feel just a little bit more control coming back into your own hands and you lifted a spoonful of sauce to pour it over the top of the very first set of Eggs Benedict you’d ever made in your entire life, complete with homemade hollandaise sauce and a fresh mozzarella, basil and heirloom tomato salad with a balsamic prosciutto vinaigrette that honestly looked like it belonged in a millionaire’s garden party instead of in some bunker during a hurricane operating on emergency generator power.

You looked down at the plate in awe. There was some sort of a timer beeping that called your attention up and away from this pretty thing you’d just created with him and you looked up into the faces of three people who had watched you both with their mouths hung open in stunned silence. Mr. Chen reached forward to push a button on the timer that was ringing out but the other two didn’t seem to move a muscle.

When you looked over at Kyungsoo he had already backed up enough so you could no longer feel every single one of his abdominal muscles through the thin fabric of your summer top and he looked down at the dishes that had been assembled with both of your hands.

His lips pulled into the smallest smile while he looked down and when he looked back up into your face that smile came along with his attention on you.

You felt the smallest bump of his shoulder against yours and he whispered into your ear.

“Not bad for a Princess,” he said with a lift of a single eyebrow.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

[jhoneybees]

Your little Muse

Hello lovelies! Coming in with another fic🤭 This one might be a bit all over the place because my brain isn't cooperating with me at the moment but I hope you all like it!

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X artist!reader

Warnings/triggers: insecurities, nudity, angst, nude art

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @theelvisprincess @i-r-i-n-a-a @thelonelyheart @polksaladava @hooked-on-elvis

_____________________________________________

For the past few months, Elvis has been feeling extremely insecure. All the horrible thoughts swirling in his head about his appearance have been taking a big toll on him.

He rarely looks in the mirror, he never feels like dressing up anymore, just putting on tracksuits everyday and he's isolating himself in the bedroom for days on end so he doesn't have to face the newspaper headlines commenting on his growing waistline and he's also not seeing any of his good friends except you, his lover and that's making you terribly worried.

He hates it all and you know he hates it all, he’s told you that he hates himself even more because of it. You try your best to comfort him and help him take care of himself when he's sulking, feeling like a sack of potatoes but you've realised that it all doesn’t seem to last very long so one night you come up with an idea.

__

“H-Honey, I-I-I don’t know about this-” Elvis stutters nervously as he grips his robe, watching you move back and forth from one side of the bed to the other. Gulping when you turn around and smile.

“Come on, let’s take this off.”

You’ve come up with an idea of how you have this challenge for your art, drawing one thing that you love every single day for a whole month and for today’s thing you’re gonna draw is him. He’s been so hard on himself this week with his self esteem so you hope this might cheer him up.

Show him how beautiful he truly is.

Peeling his hands away from his chest, you carefully begin to unwrap his robe pushing it over his shoulders but he quickly stops you. Looking down at you, almost afraid. “N-No baby, I-I don’t know if w-we should do this…”

You give him a reassuring look, getting up onto your tippy toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Cupping his soft cheek with tenderness. “We should, darling.” smiling when you see his puppy eyes.

Slipping his robe off of his body, you let it fall to the floor and take a moment to admire his beauty. “Oh sweetie…” Carefully smoothing your palms up and down his arms as your eyes scan his naked body, frowning when you see him move his hands to cover himself. “There is no need to do that…”

Your eyebrows furrow looking up at him, carding your fingers through his hair as his eyes avert away from yours.

“This is a lot, Y/n.” He mumbles quietly and you nod in understanding.

“You’re already doing so well, baby…” cupping his left cheek again to bring his pretty blue eyes to face you again, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “My little muse doesn’t need to hide anything.”

He starts to blush and you give him another kiss, making him suck in a breath. Growing courage in his body. “A-Alright…” Slowly pulling himself to climb onto the huge bed and grunting as he sits down in the middle of the massive pile of luxurious cushions. He looks down at himself and quickly rips his stare away, swallowing thickly. Turning his head to look at you as you move closer.

“Get yourself comfortable.” You tell him, softly. Leaning over onto the bed with a knee on the mattress, you guide his arms to rest on the cushions behind him, adjusting a few things here and there and positioning his cross necklace on his chest and fixing his hair, you pull back to observe the picture in front of you and your small grin slowly fades when he tries to cover himself. “Relax, baby…” Gently stopping him.

Elvis groans. Moving his arms back to where they were then you grab the light pink silk scarf from your nightstand and mindfully draping it over his thighs covering his most intimate parts, he sighs a little, bringing him a bit of comfort.

“Oh honey…” You coo with genuine love in your voice, admiring his beautiful body of how he just lays there.

His legs parted with one knee bent slightly, his arms looking soft and cuddly, his perfectly dishevelled hair on top of his head, his baby boy blue eyes watching yours shyly, his chestnut coloured hairs decorating his glorious chest with a bling of a gold cross and his delicious belly laying over your pink scarf.

You sigh, he really is a sight for sore eyes.

“Baby, d-do I really need ta be naked like this?”

Your eyes flick up to his insecure ones and respond with a hum. “Mhm, drawing something that I truly love…and that’s your handsome self, baby.” Picking up your sketchbook and adjusting your art pencil set as you sit down in the armchair you organised right at the foot of the bed. Rolling your stare down his body once more before getting yourself focused.

“...Don’t know what makes ya think that.” He grumbles.

Bringing your gaze up to him again, your eyebrows knit together. “Because I love you…”

“Hmm-”

“That’s what makes me think that.” You finish making him lock his baby blues to yours then shuffling around, you breathe through your nose and quietly lean onto the bed and grab his foot to place a kiss to the bridge. Making sure he knows that you meant every word.

__

After a while of reassuring Elvis and getting everything organised, you finally get to work. Flicking your focused stare up to specific parts of his body every now and then to get every detail right, you take your time.

You started around 9 PM and as time goes by, it feels like it’s almost morning.

You’re so proud of Elvis. He’s trying his best to stay still, despite how uncomfortable he is. You can see the discomfort on his handsome face.

He’s avoiding looking at his body at all times and the way his lips curl into a frown and his nostrils flare slightly makes your heart break.

He looks like he’s slowly losing himself in the darkness and you can’t let him sink in too deep so you quickly get up and pad over to the side of the bed to place a soft kiss to his temple making him lift his head.

Giving him a loving smile. “Hang in there, honey.”

He nods and his dissociated stare drifts back down to his toes. “Mhm…”

“I’m almost finished.” Placing another peck onto his lips as your finger goes under his chin. He doesn’t say anything and you hesitantly go back to your chair to carry on with your art.

__

As 2 AM comes around and you add a few finishing touches, you’re finally satisfied to say you’ve completed the drawing.

“It’s done.” You sigh, relieved.

Crawling onto the silky bed sheets towards Elvis and kneeling beside his thighs as you reach over and grab his robe from earlier and lay it over his legs and chest, he notices you holding your sketchbook in front of him and when he sees the picture on the white paper, your heart buzzes with warmth when he carefully takes the book from you.

Hesitantly tracing a finger beside the lines to not ruin the drawing and watching his chest start to shakily rise and fall, your soft smile falters hearing him suck in a weak breath.

“Baby?”

You angle your back to see his face and the sight of his eyes, watery and a couple of tears dropping from his eyelashes, you immediately cup his cheek and lift his chin to inspect him better. “Oh…” Bringing your other hand to wipe the tear from his right cheek. “I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head slightly, gently touching the back of your hand to look back down at the drawing.

“Thank you…”

Your heart thumps at his soft words and as your gaze goes down to your drawing, Elvis moves your hand to rest on his chest. Rubbing it with his thumb as he thinks. Realising that you're showing a different version of him to him.

A version you say he is but he never understood until now.

A version that’s loving, soft and angelic.

A version that you call, little muse.

Your little muse.

“I love it.”

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

PICK A CARD INTUITIVE READING: WHAT TYPE OF GODDESS ARE YOU?

Wanted to do something fun for Venus day, so whats better than figuring out the type of goddess vibe you carry ? Pick which vibe suits you the most, and you read each energy for yourself.

Pile 1 : 'An Angel With Wings, The Beauty Queen, The Ocean Ruler'

This gift you have is connected to Mother Nature. You have a divine feminine frequency that propels your aura towards a larger group of people. Your energy is humongous and people notice you from afar. Your gift is being able to be a star and growing beyond what others limits were for you. Your creative energy sparks when your more confident in yourself and your potential. Your energy attracts demons (spiritually as well as physical bodies) because your spark enlightens their rage, shadows, envy etc. But its because your healing aura shines so brightly that they NEED to let go of that dark energy. When you walk into the room, people's hearts are touched. The heart chakra is stronger with this group, it is connected to Mother Gaia in a way that makes people believe in something beautiful. Venus Daughter. You're a gift from the divine to others.

Pile 2 : 'Beauty Comes Slowly But Gracefully. A Thousand Times Better Than Before.'

This group is more of a late bloomer, but in the most beautifulest way possible. Your star power comes through as you gain insight and experience in your lifetime. Your beauty shines in a way that other people takes kind too. You eliminate the bad around others because you see the good in them and who they truly are at the core. This could be a blessing and/or a curse, but your ability to touch others with seeing their darkness and sharing love and compassion with them is what helps them see themselves and heal. Your energy shines through the hugs you give people and people love to tell you their secrets or things they usually wouldn't tell a stranger.

You have this childlike essence to you that keeps you young, so being a late bloomer is more about you being a child throughout life, you're not hear to learn everything so quickly. You're a child of the stars, here to start something brand new and making way for other future generations in the process.

Pile 3: 'Crazy Meets Eccentric. The Boss. The Goddess With The Brain. The Angel Who Cuts Her Wings To Be A Goddess Amongst All The Other Realms'.

This group contains a lot of knowledge that allures others to their magic. They are spontaneous and allow this side of them to create space for their raw imagination. People are enticed with what they know and whats going on in their brain. These individuals are good at telling you like it is, however a little less bluntless will get you the most favor.

Angel guides are stronger with this group, you have a larger purpose to fulfill and a lot of it has to do with teaching abilities you carry in this lifetime. Just like the last group, you have an aura that will change the view of how other people see the world but for this group you will challenge people in how they view the world through THEM. You mirror back to them what they hate to see in their selves and this group could deal with a lot of uncertainty when working with others since your ideas will be too vast for a few others. Your beliefs and ideas of the world at large is what will propel you to great success in the long run. Use it wisely, and not everyone is meant to know these conquests you've been on to obtain the knowledge you seek. Be better than the last. Good times ahead.

Pile 4: 'The Girl With The Big Butt. The Illuminary. The Luxurious Queen.'

This group is known for their body and the beauty of their psychique. These spontaneous leaders are gifted with the power to influence others in different vocations. You have a light that contains tremendous power and shouldn't be taken to lightly. Men will be in favor to you if you pay attention and use your discerning abilities carefully. You have a lot of spiritual protection coming from the ethers, as your boss mentality keeps people at a standstill with feeling powerless, envious and throwing out the evil eye whenever they can. You have a guilty free conscience and if shame is an issue for you than this is something you truly need to work on. Nothing good comes when you're feeling shame, you have to live your best life. Who cares about what others think of you, as long as you think highly of yourself than thats all that matters.

Hope this helps <3 Enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!

[lemon-popp]

Spending time with the sith: episode iv

Pairings: Qimir x Black! female oc

warnings: Unprotected sex, Fluff, swearing, pining, slight rejection, Typos (sorryyyy)

words count: 5k

masterlist

Luna’s body is lifted onto the elevated bed with Qimir aiding her every move as if she’s some hurt bird while lifting each of her legs. Although she deeply appreciated his tender help, it wasn’t really necessary, it was just a twisted ankle. She wasn’t ran over by a ship and left completely disabled. But despite these thoughts, she basks in this feeling.

Back home she has always working. Never had a break since the day she was old enough to join the workforce. It was tough at first, but eventually she got used to it…because she had to. It wasn’t enough just living off the salary her mom made at the apothecary, she knew she needed to help. Though much protest from her mother, Luna insisted, Sacrificing her freedom to give her mom even just the slightest break from being the sole provider. Allowing her to reduce her hours so they can spend more time together.

As of recently though, her mom quit. Not by choice of course, but because of her rapidly declining health that caused her to even have difficulty standing at the cash register. The day her mom returned home with the news, Luna knew that she had to step up. She knew that she had new responsibilities on her dainty shoulders, responsibilities to which she took on with no hesitation. She would do anything for her mom, which meant picking up multiple shifts, getting another job and taking care of her mom’s every need. So it’s safe to say this girl was on the clock 24/7. So yeah, she’s definitely appreciating this treatment, ignoring the guilt that sat in her stomach, just for this moment.

“I’m gonna go make dinner,” Qimir’s pleasant voice seeps through her ears like a musical melody. Her big brown eyes meet his, and she almost completely forgets about relaxing. Her workforce robot brain rebooting into action.

“Oh i can help—,” Before the eager girl can finish her suggestion, Qimir’s places his large and on the top of her thigh, as a means to stop her.

“No,” His eyes glare deep into hers, his eyebrows low and face straight as if he was scolding her. Luna’s eagerness dissipates almost immediately and she cowers like a scared puppy, but a heat swells up to her cheeks, ”I got it. You just lay there, looking beautiful and rest. okay?”

The dominance oozes off his tongue as every word that was spoken enunciated meticulously in a stern tone.

He meant it

Qimir wasn’t sure where this came from. Any of this. The hospitality. The tender words. Just being giving in general. He just wanted to give to her. Whatever she wanted. He even wanted to give her everything he never received.

Luna nods in agreement, sinking back down into the cotton sheets that covered his luxurious bed. Qimir turns on his heels and makes his way to the kitchen, his large figure disappearing from her view.

With him gone, Luna takes this time to ‘tame’ her hair, or at least that’s what the people at school and work would say whenever she wore her hair out. She loved her hair, her mom always encouraging her to have her on style and to feel confident. It just so happens that when she felt most confident was when her curls framed her face like an angel in the clouds. The brown lengthy coils that resembled a male lion.

But right now, as her hair was still damp from the bath, took the opportunity to make a slick low bun with her hands. She didn’t necessarily feel like Qimir was unwelcoming to her hair, or her self expression in general. Especially after the way he manipulated it in his large hand, careful not to entangle is fingers inside the thicket. She decided to style her hair simply because she still had no bonnet and didn’t enjoy waking up with knots, tangles and dry hair.

After fifteen minutes, the slick back bun was a slick as it could be and as if on cue, Qimir entered back into the bedroom with one ceramic bo in hand. Steam escaping from the dish.

Excitement rushes through Luna, preparing her taste buds for the delicious soup she had yesterday until the bowl finally arrived in her hands.

vegetables? really?

Qimir catches how her face that was just bright with excitement, dropped when faced with the dinner for tonight. Her thick eyebrows furrow in confusion and plump lips pouting. He shakes his head at her in amusement.

Funny that she wants the soup now.

“What’s the matter?,” Humor coats his sentence in a teasing manner, a smirk crawling across his face, knowing exactly what is the matter.

Luna rolled her eyes at him, taking the metal fork in hand to stab the sautéed carrots, broccoli and cauliflower in spite. Masking the slight disappointment in her face and her annoyance at him noticing this disappointment.

Truth is she felt bad for judging his food so early. Granted it did look like a boil of green thick bile, but nonetheless it was still rude of her to have act that way. Luna sighed lightly, bringing the fork to her lips consuming the vegetables, which were perfectly seasoned.

is this man a chef? holy cow this is delicious.

“mm, never a chef. just had enough patience to learn,” Qimir answered the question that rang in her mind for the third time that day. Not caring about hiding his power anymore. Who he was. He trusted her.

Well, he trusted that she wasn’t working with the jedi. She’s far too emotional to be with them and there’s no way she’d just freely let him roam her mind if she were.

Luna’s eyes flick up to meet his, her almond eyes burning into his with a dissecting squint. Her mind ran a million kilometers per minute, trying to once again understand how. The question repeats around her brain as it attempts to make up reasonable answers, but to no avail. The only way is to ask.

“Are you a jedi?,” Her voice clear, eyes locked as she takes another bite of her food, awaiting for his confession.

Him being a jedi is the only possible explanation. Well…besides the fact that he’s alone, on this planet.

Qimir surprising breaks the interrogating eye contact with the beautiful girl in front of him, his gaze dropping along with his mischievous smile.

He figured this moment would come. I mean, he fully expected it with how he was recklessly answering the burning questions that played in her head. But the feeling that washed over him as the words left her sweet lips, was something he would never expect.

His stomach dropped, heart slowing to a deathly rate and his skin grew cold, but he still broke out in a light sweat on his forehead. The thought of telling this compassionate, caring, and charismatic woman that he was a fallen jedi, who murdered and felt no guilt, crushed him. The thought of her possible reaction crushed him. Her eyes succumbing to fear at the realization that she has been living with an evil sith. He feared this. But why?

she’s not yours Qimir. she was not and never will be yours. if anything this is for the best. Telling her will drive her back home, back to safety, back to her mother and away from you.

A lump forms at the back of his throat, this prominent adams apple bobbling as his tries to swallow it away. It lingers anyway.

With a sigh, he reaches out to grab Luna’s injured ankle to which she slightly winces at, but doesn’t protest as he places it across his thick lap. His eyes focus on the bare skin of her leg, avoiding the intense chocolate orbs that stared at him with concern.

Qimir’s large calloused hands caress her injury, his fingers massaging the tender bone. At first it just felt like a deep contusion, but at the seconds went by the pain that was once there is completely gone.

he just—he just healed me.

Her eyes widen at her realization as she slowly circles her foot, testing whether she’s being delusional or not. The bleeding organ in her chest thumps harder, her brain buzzing with questions all while her fingers grip onto the warm bowl.

Qimir softens the grasp he has on her ankle, letting his hands fall off of her smooth skin. Taking her sudden change in demeanor as a sign to give her space.

The burly man sighs, the most defeated he has looked in their shared time together.

“I am not a Jedi, Luna. Not anymore,” Qimir sighs but spoke directly, firm with his words. His hands that now sat on his lap, fidgeted the the hardened callouses that formed on his palms.

Luna’s brown eyes light up at his confession and small smirk forming across her lips at the thought of being right. Or so she thought.

“I was thrown away by my master. I was unable to tap into the power of the force with their methods. I was unable to cut ties with my emotions. Unable to let go of the life i had before them. My family. They just expected me to just…forget about them. But i did, to the best of my abilities.”

Although Qimir’s strong voice doesn’t falter while telling his story, Luna can sense how heavy it weighs on his heart. The way his dominant eyes that never shy away from intense eye contact couldn’t even meet hers. The way his heavy shoulders slumped in an egregious posture.

Luna takes the bowl in her hands and sets in down next to her to instead reach out for his large ones. Along with his hands, she also take his gaze. His saddened eyes finally met her warms ones that reassured him.

“Q, im so sorry,” Qimir flinches at the nickname. It may have been something so small, but that small thing lit his chest on fire and warmed his cheeks. His natural confidence started to sprout again thanks to her.

“I use the force on my own terms now. By using my emotions. my anger, my sadness, my passion. my desire. I use it. i have used it on you. to heal you. to read your mind. and I have used it on others. on the jedi”

Luna’s compassionate smile drops for a second, letting the last sentence register in her head.

i have used on others. on the jedi.

To luna it seemed very clear what he meant by that statement. Of course he wasn’t reading their minds to flirt with them easier or using it to heal them like he was doing to her. He used it for revenge.

The thought didn’t necessarily scare her, knowing that she personally didn’t need to fear him. But coming to the realization that this man that she has given her trust to has possibly killed, did shock her.

This is the same man who carried her bridal style over a twisted ankle. Who comforted her while ranting about her mother’s sickness. Who fed her meals, bathed her, and pleased her like no other, including herself. So Qimir being a murder definitely failed to run across her mind.

However, this realization didn’t change anything. “thank you for telling me,” she spoke gently, almost in a whisper-like manner.

“Why aren’t you scared?,” Qimir chews on his pink bottom lip, confused on how such a sweet soul like her isn’t running away at his confession.

i read your mind. i lied about my identity. i killed. why is she still sitting here, staring at me with those gorgeous eyes.

“Why would i be scared of you, Qimir. From the sound of it, you were taken away from the purest love anyone could experience and forced to sever those ties. You were never allowed to heal from such a traumatic event. Unable to build a potential relationship to fill that void. You’re not a bad person. You’re just hurting,”

Luna’s rogue thumbs draws a soothing pattern on the back of his veiny hands, making sure that he not only heard her words, but felt them too. Feeling how much she truly sympathized with him.

“i do have one question though," A small smile spreads across her lips. Curiosity and intrigue forming. "Outside of revenge on the entire jedi, what is it you desire most?”

Although the question was meant to be light hearted, the air grows thicker as she awaits for his response. The previous sympathetic gaze they shared was soon washed away, replaced with something else. Qimir’s eyes scan the woman that sat in front of him taking in all of her beauty. The way the curls that were once free and wet, was now pulled back presenting the masterpiece of her face.

“The power of two,” Qimir brings his gaze back to her chocolatey eyes, locking them in an intense stare off that neither of them backed down from. A look that spoke a thousand words yet nothing at all. The hands that once held his were now overpowered as he gave her dainty palms a knowing squeeze.

Now it's time for Luna to take her bottom lip in her mouth, chewing it nervously. The thought of him referring to her in the sense of the 'power of two' sending her mind in an overdrive, but so did the thought of him referring to someone else completely. While rather fearless, Luna was no fighter much less a wielder of the force, it would foolish of her to think he was making such an implication.

“Q—I hav,” Luna starts but is interrupted with Qimir's full plush lips against her's, the had that were once holding onto hers found its way to the sides of her head, keeping her hostage. Confirming that he was indeed referring to her.

The girl only takes a second to recover from the surprise of his lips before joining his feverish kisses, allowing herself to let her hands wander over his cream robe. Qimir's lips sizzled with desire and he sucked on her juicy ones, all restraint he had leaving his massive body.

Qimir was extremely skilled at keeping his cool, that was what most fear about him. The fact that it was nearly impossible to detect what he was truly feeling, unable to predict his actions. However, when it came to Luna. Her loving eyes boring into his soul, reassuring him and showing such loyalty only after these short two days, it made him lose it cool, to put it lightly.

With lips moving in unison and fitting together like cogs in a clock, Qimir crawls towards her, his lengthy body hovering over her tiny frame. Luna peers at him through her thick eyelashes, admiring the way his biceps bulged against the linen long sleeve cloth, allowing her fingertips to follow her gaze up his arm up to drape hers around his neck.

The oversized robe that enveloped Luna parted slightly at the neck, exposing her impressive décolletage. The threatening unveiling drives Qimir to insanity as he attempts to hold himself from ripping the thin linen from her body himself. But Instead he opts for soft kisses that trail down tantalizingly slow, tasting the sweet honey of her skin.

Luna arches off the bed, her back forming a deep curve that’s practically begging for qimir to take advantage of. Her chest fully pushed out as a result causing the robe to open up even more. Qimir groans at her reaction. pleased

all of this over some kisses. she has no idea.

Qimir loops his arms through the gap between the sheets and her back, allowing his arms to wrap around the girl’s waist. His pink lips reach the hilt of her covered breast before using his teeth to tug at the cloth that barely covered her hard nipples.

Luna gasps at the cool feeling of air that caressed her nerve as she stared down at the man who had hunger written all over him. He was a starved lion. and she was a gazelle.

His eyes meet her’s, stalling at her newly exposed skin 1) to check if she was okay with this 2) to see the pure bliss on her face when he latches his lips around her stiff brown nipple. Qimir starts with gentle licks which later progresses into sucking and nibbling while he frees a hand to pinch the other.

Luna’s eyes roll back, her hands dragging its way to his hanging hair, gripping softly. Moans escape her lips, her back arching even more into his mouth which Qimir takes note of.

she wants more

Q detaches from her swollen breast to kiss down even further, using the force to untie the robe and open it up completely. Luna’s full body now on display.

Goosebumps litter her golden brown skin that burned under Qimir’s gaze. Which were filled with nothing but admiration. If she looked closely she could see the hunger subsiding for a second being replaced with awe as he observed her.

There was a goddess lied underneath him. Trusting him to please her. To serve her. And serve he shall.

Qimir swallows the sudden lump of shyness that formed at his throat due to the sight before him. The cocky confidence rushing back.

The burly arms release her from his unwavering hug around her waist allowing him to use his wide hands to wrap around her calfs, lifting them. Her legs now nearly reached her head, her womanhood fully exposed. At mercy to whatever he had in store.

Luna’s chest starts to pound in excitement, a toothy smile spreading across her beautiful face. Qimir looks down between the girl’s legs, catching her wide smile that caused him to grin with confusion. His thick eyebrows knit together at Luna’s untimely humor.

“What’s going on little one?,” He gives her a playful smirk as the hands wrapped around her calfs drag down the length of her legs, running over the developing goosebumps that littered her strong quads before stopping right at her inner thighs.

Luna's breath hitches at the back of her throat from the growing anticipation at feeling his warm hands touch her even warmer delicates, “I just— I’m excited.”

“Excited hm?," His lips latch on to her dangling legs, starting at her previously swollen ankle to which he littered clement kisses against before trailing down, his tongue slipping out to take the same path his hands took. The pink buds tasting the sweetness of her skin, only what Qimir could image to be just a snippet of what she really tasted like. The man stops only a couple inches away from her exposed core, the smell her dripping arousal filling up his senses. If he wasn't enjoying this teasing, she would've already been on her third orgasm. but the way her heart thumped in her chest, her mind already nothing but tv static and how she arched her back after every touch was something worth savoring.

Qimir inhales deeply, filling his lungs with her pheromone that sends him into a high to which he blows out with a dramatic sigh. The air that leaves his lips blowing directly onto Luna's throbbing clit.

Her body contracts, eyes shooting down to his with a pleading gaze. Begging to give her what she wants. Begging for his lips on hers. Qimir catches the sent glare, reveling in the power it gave him but only for second as his desire to please this gorgeous woman overthrew his need for power.

Luna throws her head back with aggression, her back lifting off the bed as if she was being possessed as she felt the way his tongue swirled and lapped at her bud. The hand gripping onto her left thigh moved to her core as he gently inserts two fingers in. The moan that escapes her mouth drives him crazy as he pumps his thick calloused fingers all while still obliterating her lit with his talented tongue.

Luna's hands find their way to his hair, pulling on the long hair that sat at the top of his head, begging for more.

It was nice feeling the way his lips sucked on swollen clit and how his fingers hooked inside of her. Hell, it was one of the best feelings she's ever experienced in her life. But somehow she craved more. She craved closeness. She craved him inside of her. She craved the feeling of them coming together as one.

"Q- Qimir, I nee-- I need you," She pants with closed eyes. the grip on his hair tightening attempting to lift him from his dinner. Qimir raises his head revealing his absolutely drenched chin and a slightly annoyed face. Luna giggles at his bewildered state before dragging him up by his wet chin to meet her eye level, "I need you Qimir."

Her chestnut brown eyes stare pleadingly through his oak ones, hoping that he would just use that awesome force power of his to read her thoughts. To save her from the humiliation that was starting to bubble up inside of her.

Lucky for her, Qimir didn't have to use it anyway, he knew what she wanted from her words alone. The playfully annoyed expression is replaced with a soft look as he takes in the current situation. He stares down at her, a swirl of emotions brewing in his chest. Lust, excitement, warmth, comfort…fear.

Qimir shakes the last thought out of his mind, narrowing his focus back on the beauty who was currently begging underneath him.

The distance is closed with a tender kiss to Luna’s full lips before pulling away just slightly.

“Are you sure?,” He asks just centimeters away, eyes locked in a unwavering gaze, both searching for signs of uncertainty. None arises and Luna nods, committing to her statement as the ache in her core grew exponentially.

Qimir mouths an ‘okay’ before sitting back on his knees to give him space to fully remove his robe. Unveiling his godly body that makes the woman shift up to get a better view.

A part of her felt like she needed to be pinched. That there was no way that she was experiencing the privilege of laying underneath him. His detailed abs and large biceps on display for her. His desire rock hard just for her.

Luna stretches out to run her delicate fingers down the length of his torso, feeling each ripple that decorated his abdomen in disbelief. He was real. Truly real. Too real.

A pleased smirk formed across Qimir’s pink, swollen lips, savoring the feeling of her fingers trailing down his body, nearing the lengthy member that throbbed for her. Qimir throws his robe off to the side and takes back his previous position hovering on top of Luna, as she continues her venture.

Without warning, Luna wraps her hand around his warm cock, taking in the size as her hand could barely fully wrap around him. Her jaw goes slack, mouth gapped open in surprise and Qimir’s smirk only grew wider.

He was going to enjoy tonight.

Qimir removes Luna’s grasp off of his member to instead pin it above her head by intertwining their fingers together. The head of his cock grazing her clit as he did so. She was ready for him.

and so was he.

Qimir takes his free hand, aligning his length with her begging entrance. He pushes in gently with a sharp inhale that is shared with Luna who tightens the grip on his hand. The thickness of his cock and the lack of experience on her end making it rather difficult to go fully in.

The burly man pulls out and pushes back in with the same technique as before, but this time Luna breathes out, fully relaxing into him. He slips in deeper than before, a strangled moan leaving Luna’s lips with an arch in her back.

Although he wasn’t fully in yet, it felt like she was full to the brim with him. The way his veiny length stretched her out further than anything else had ever before sent her to spiral. Her once strong eye contact, faltered with fluttering eyes that threatened to roll to the back of her head.

“You’re doing so good little one,” Qimir’s hips came to a stop, giving Luna some time to adjust to his impressive size. In the meantime, Qimir brings his free hand to her face, gently caressing the apple of her cheek with his thumb longingly. His eyes never leaving her just in case she shows any sign of discomfort before she mentions it.

While admiring her face, he is brought back to moments ago to when she comforted him. Validated his feelings. Understood him.

Heat starts to swell at his chest at the memory. A swarm of butterflies following right behind that choose to settle at his tummy. An emotion he longed to feel as a padawan in the jedi. An emotion he still denied himself of seeking until all of his business was taken care of.

Luna came back to her senses, catching Qimir’s lightly glossy eyes staring down at her so softly. Her breath hitching at the sight of him before giving a quick squeeze of his hands, bringing him back to reality.

“I’m ready,” She whispered between them with a soft smile. Qimir nods, pulling out and pushing back in repeatedly in a languid manner. Making sure he didn’t push too much of himself inside. At least for tonight.

His slow strokes drove Luna insane as they allowed for her to feeling almost every inch of him. Every throbbing vein raking the walls of her vagina.

Qimir dips his head in the space between her shoulder and head, his lips locking in on her neck. Kissing, nibbling and licking on her carotid artery.

He could kill her right now, the idea did cross her mind. He was a hurt, damaged man with nothing to lose, what would be stopping him from killing me? but that thought also drove her insane. That such a powerful, majestic man could end her like that, however chose to heal her. she felt like putty in his hands, at mercy to his touch. It made her wonder if it was because she was just an exception or he’s really just a good person. She hoped both were true.

Qimir’s thrust starts to pick up, his hand leaves her cheeks lowering to the round of her hip, his digits slightly digging into her skin. Luna wince at the increasing speed but soon adjusts with loud moans following suit.

“So perfect. So perfect for me,” Qimir gruff voice groans in her ear through his kisses. The compliment ignites a fire pit inside her stomach, A fire pit that eventually evolves into a lit stick of dynamite. Her walls grip onto him impossibly tighter, pulling a gruttual moan from him.

They were like animals. In their most primitive human state as they filled the air with strangled moans and heavy breathing. Bodies colliding like the moon and the stars. Moving in unison. Hearts beating in unison while their hands grip and claw at each other. Luna’s untangle their way out of Qimir’s possessive hold and make their way to his muscular back, her nails digging into his flesh, holding on for dear life.

Qimir gives one last lick to her neck before lifting his head to level with hers that struggled to stay still. Constantly being thrown back with every powerful thrust. His now lonely hand finds its way to her jaw, holding her still with a tender yet stern grip. He held her captive, forcing her eyes to stay on his.

The desperation on her face sent qimir into orbit. His confidence through the roof at seeing her fluttering eyes, gaped lips and flushed face. He found her absolutely breathtaking.

Qimir’s lips take hers by surprise and they kiss. Slow and sloppy. Lips crashing together, tongues exploring the inside of each others mouths. lips occasionally being bitten, but soothed by a loving kiss.

Luna’s mind was now obsolete. Head empty. no thoughts running. All she could possibly think about was Qimir and his touch. He was all she could consume.

The ignited dynamite reached its end point. At brink of explosion and with every thrust, his torso rubbed the nub of her flower. It was impossible to hold on. No matter how badly she wanted to stay in this moment forever. Her body begged for release, thrashing underneath him chasing her high. Qimir takes notice, breaking the kiss to egg his girl on.

“Come little one. Come for me love,” And with that she did. Her barely open eyes rolled to the back of her skull as her body convulsed violently as a strong orgasm rushed through her. Her nails dragging down the length of his back, deep enough to draw blood, well if Qimir wasn’t…Qimir.

The mix of the stinging of his back and the relentless pressure wrapped around his cock, only sent Qimir to meet his own release. With haste, he pulls out, coating her stomach with his seed. Luna too busy coming down from her own high to even notice.

The man reaches out to grab the nearest thing, which so happens to be his robe, to wipe his cum off of her. While delicately cleaning the girl, who now seemed so relaxed that she sunk deeper into the bed, a vision of his seed dumping inside of her popped into his head. Her smooth stomach eventually rounding as she carried their creation. Their love child.

Never in his life, or as long as he had been sexually active, had the thought of impregnating a partner made him feel such a way. Typically the idea would come from the mouth of the desperate woman he chose from the bar, who extremely overestimated the extent of their relationship. Not him.

Aside from the fact that he never found anyone worthy of carrying his seed, having a family scared him. He knew he wasn’t fit for fatherhood considering the lack of representation and love he has received.

Qimir removes himself from his thoughts, knowing that if he kept going it would end with him spiraling. So instead he keeps his focus on her, thinking how glad he is that she cannot read his mind or else she’d probably be off running too.

The man throws the robe back on the ground and rolls off the girl onto the empty space in the bed beside her, lying in his back. He opens his right arm out, inviting Luna to snuggle up next to him. An invitation she takes with great pleasure as she places her ear to his chest, wrapping her bare leg around his.

The laid there in silence, skin to skin, breaths per second decreasing reaching ultimate relaxation. Both of their eyes growing heavy, and their hearts swelling with pure warmth. Qimir rests his chin on her slicked back hair, inhaling the coconut smell that emitted from her.

Luna felt like she was neck deep in quicksand, officially unable to claw her way out. Every second, starting from the moment she was brought back to this cave unconscious, she was sinking further and further. There was just something about this man. Even though he is practically a stranger, sooo much stuff still left to learn about him, she felt compelled to him. A strong desire to know him, all of him, and to accept whatever baggage came with it.

Her moms voice rang through her head, wise words breaking through her own consciousness. The honey voice filled her mind with a quote that never really made sense, until this moment.

They were watching a movie in the living room, as they did every friday night if they were working a night shift that day. A movie about a princess and a knight having a terrible first impression, resulting in mutual disdain for each other to then being engaged and in love in the span of a day.

Young Luna scrutinized the legitimacy of the plot. Screaming that falling in love in a day was impossible. Someone would have to be crazy to do that.

Until her mom dismantled her entire argument with one sentence. The sentence that played through her head now.

“Love does not deal with time, but with the connection shared between the two,”

Luna closes her eyes, taking in a deep meditating breath to calm the racing of her heart. She can’t push her feelings down, her mom wouldn’t want that. Plus the fact that Luna always leaned towards being outspoken even in situations that didn’t really call for it.

With a huge exhale, Luna breaks the comfortable silence.

“Q…I think i— i think i love you,” Luna declares with a shivering voice, the first time she has outwardly expressed her nervousness around him, as she waited for his response.

Qimir’s breathing stops, every bone in his body turning into titanium too heavy to move. Her genuine words falling to a void of silence as the only thing Qimir could register was the pounding of his heart. Sweat pricks at his forehead, unsure of how to respond. Literally.

His mouth parts, preparing to return the sentiment, to confess all of the emotions that he tried to bury. But the hand of fear restricted him from doing so. Its grip tightening around his neck in a death hold.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. i just— i just thought you should know,” Luna reassures, a hint of disappointment coating her tongue.

She wasn’t necessarily expecting him to say it back. Of course she hoped for that. Hearing that the feeling was mutual and that he didn’t view her as some delusional little girl would’ve sent her to the moon. However, she didn’t confess for the purpose of it being thrown back at her. She wanted to tell him the truth, she wanted to live her truth because life is far too short to live a lie. To not take chances.

Qimir’s heart clenches at the sound of her tiny voice. Wishing there wasn’t some unhealthy trauma preventing him from chasing what he really desired. Wishing he wasn’t the way he was. A piece of trash. A failed Jedi. A murderer.

With heavy eyes, Luna shoves the sting of rejection towards the back of her head as she flips her body, her back now facing Qimir. Figuring that he would want space after her pathetic confession, ignoring how her body turned cold once she left his chest. How she longed to feel his bare skin against hers. she just wanted to respect him.

Little did she know that this was the opposite of what he wanted to happen. Luckily, his fear didn't restrain his ability move anything else of his body as he flips on his side, his front facing her back. His bulky arms reaching from behind her to pull her body into his, spooning her.

A small smile spreads across Luna's lips as she slowly drifts off to sleep.

episode v

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ scenarios | dating negan

♡ fandoms; The Walking Dead

♡ characters; Negan Smith

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; in case anyone forgot i’m technically not a dedicated slasher blog

i put this in sections so i didn’t have to make more than one post lol . also these take place while he’s still the ruler of the saviors. i’ve been obsessed since his first episode oh my god that’s eight years of hyperfixation so that’s usually where my brain goes plot- wise

i’m thinking Billy Butcher is up next? lmk who else we wanna see, Garcia Flynn from Timeless is probably too niche? but i love him so so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/PDA

> negan is an affectionate person

> with his wives it’s just for show- they’re hot, and he wants all his followers jealous of his lifestyle

> but with you, it’s different

> his wives don’t like him, per-se. he’s convenient to be married to and easy on the eyes, but they’re cold to him

> and he knows why, he doesn’t really give a shit. especially now that he has you.

> you may not be his spouse- you’re sure as fuck not letting him call you that without a ring- but he’s even more physical with you

> standing by him? hand on your back. sitting? you’re on his lap. look cold? he gives you his jacket and keeps you tucked under his arm

> “i just like takin’ care of you darlin’”

> and he loves kissing you in front of others- from little pecks to long, lingering kisses that makes other people look away

> he seems possessive, and he doesn’t mind people pointing it out

> it’s not that he doesn’t trust you- it’s never that

> he trusts most of his men too…maybe not simon. because simon loves staring at your ass

> but he’s proud. he’s proud you’re his, and he’s yours, and that he gets to show you off

> and like hell he ever lets anyone forget it

> alone he acts like keeping his hands off you is impossible

> he smacks your ass any time you lean over, pulls you into big bear hugs from behind and randomly pick you up

> he doesn’t ever want you to doubt his feelings for you, and physically is the easiest way for him to show it

> he’s very sexual, big shocker

> but his favorite kisses are sleepy kisses

> you wait late into the night when he’s due home from terrorizing his territories

> some part of you is afraid one day he won’t come home- so you always wait

> you’ll be exhausted, rubbing your eyes and yawning and usually wrapped up in a blanket

> but no matter how long he takes directing his men and double checking inventory and dealing with the dead

> “hey there, baby doll”

> you always run straight into his arms and bury your face in his chest. he’ll laugh and pick you up, kissing you gently before he carries you to bed

> most times he falls asleep on top of the covers with you, eager for the morning when he can make it up to you for being gone so long

II. Sharing a bed

> negan isn’t used to sharing a bed anymore

> the wives have their own rooms just down the hall, and so do you

> no reason for him not to give you at least a little space

> and having a room is the height of luxury in the sanctuary anyways. it’s a perk of dating the boss

> but you don’t know how to tell him you do want to share a bed, even though you’re barely apart when you’re awake

> so you just…don’t. you assume it’s a boundary he wants to keep and don’t mention it

> until the night terrors start up again

> you’ve seen a lot of people die a lot of different ways. most of them people you cared a lot about

> the memories always seem to come back in your dreams no matter how far back you push them

> when you’re woken up by one in the middle of a harsh storm, it’s just a bit too much

> you just can’t stop crying, and it’s loud and you need held. you need him.

> you creep as quietly as you can down the hall, and you hesitate at the door until the thunder crashes again

> when you stumble in he sits up fast with a knife in his fist

> then he gives a slightly annoyed sigh in recognition, relaxing

> “the hell are you doing?”

> “i just- um-“

> you can tell he notices the wobble in your voice and opens his arms up without another smart remark

> “hey, hey, i’ve gotcha..”

> he doesn’t ask questions- you don’t cry for nothing. and he gets nightmares too

> falling asleep in his arms feels natural…so natural it becomes a habit

> and he sleeps better with you too, curled around you and holding you so tight you think he might be worried you’ll disappear

> it’s less than a week before you stop using your bed altogether

III. Let’s get kinky

> he’s happy in pretty much any dominant role, whatever you call him is good enough for him- daddy, sir, master, etc

> and he likes when you call him whatever it is in front of his men

> the only chance of getting your dick/strap in him is if he power bottoms. but 95 percent of the time? you’re receiving and it’s big

> he likes being risky. he’ll take you out to visit settlements just to have an excuse to stop and fuck you in the car

> or even in a house there, just a room over from his men and gagging you with his fingers so you don’t get caught

> not that he’ll care if they catch you anyways

> he has a nice big office- half of the reason he uses it is so he can have you on his lap as a cockwarmer while he reads or looks over inventory numbers

> the other half is so you can suck his dick under the desk while he talks to simon or dwight

> (simon is a raging pervert so he definitely knows, too)

> he loves fucking your face, watching you get all teary eyed and drooling all over yourself from taking his massive cock

> “oh look at the fuckin’ mess you’re making!”

> he’s generous though- he loves reciprocating oral

> and he loves overstimulating you too- whether that’s by edging you for hours or just making you cum again and again and again

> he loves taking you from behind, pushing your face into the mattress and gripping your hips so hard they bruise

> but he also loves when you ride him slow, gasping quietly as he watches you fall apart completely for him

[qiupachups]

hobie brown

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 🎸💭

contents: general hcs, london based hobes bc i live there

a/n: my wife! the picture above is ‘stay close to me— omega sessions’ by bad brains (super cute song and so hobie)

When he’s not playing shows, antagonising fascists, or staging unpermitted political action slash performance art pieces— Hobie takes care of his garden. There’s just about anything growing on his canal boat that can survive London.

It’s fun just like him! He can repurpose whatever he finds into a planter, which includes old Henry Hoovers.

Most things we take for granted are ridiculously scarce in his world, like running hot water. Not wanting to waste this luxury, Hobie developed the skill of taking extremely fast showers.

Sometimes it feels like he steps in and comes straight out. It’s a little unnerving.

Once a month, Hobie does a super deep clean of his canal boat. He finds all sorts of inter-dimensional trash he’s collected over the weeks. After heaving it off the deck, you swear the boat groaned in relief.

Where does it all go? Miguel’s dimension, of course. The man didn’t have to guess the mystery fly-tipper when he saw the bags flickering through the colour spectrum. In Hobie’s defence, the waste disposal system is better in Earth-98.

If you hadn’t realised yet, Hobie is a methodical and thoughtful spidey. He plans for the best times to grow his produce and harvests them at the perfect time (not always since he’s usually… busy).

After freezing or preserving the amount he needs, he gives the rest to his community. So, expect some strawberry jam materialising at your doorstep.

For as longer as he remembers, Hobie could always cook. There was never a time he didn’t help feed his community or volunteer at F.E.A.S.T— even with his responsibilities post spider-bite.

In Hobie’s eyes, there’s nothing better than a good home-cooked meal. He can make something (amazing) from nothing so you can trust him even when it feels like there’s just dust left in the cupboard.

Multiple spideys can agree that Hobie’s singing isn’t the best. When Gwendy gave him a very forced smile, it only broke his heart a little. The face of Hobie’s idol basically admitting his singing sucks isn’t a big deal. Duh. He’s a big girl— he can handle that…

Thankfully, playing his MaryJane (guitar) more than makes up for it. If he’s not using it to torment police, he’ll make the best damn art that’s gonna stick in your head rent free.

With at least eleven piercings and counting, the dos and don’ts of them are like second nature to Hobie. That’s only eleven we can see— who knows how many more he has hidden? Without a doubt, there’ll be more to come.

Instead of getting blood poisoning from Claires or judged by a pretentious tattoo artist, go to Hobie. He’ll refuse payment but he wouldn’t turn down a drink.

Hobie isn’t called the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man for nothing. His genuine (almost violent) care for his community has earned him the respect of basically everyone, despite their initial concerns.

“A dependable young man.” That’s how the elderly women tend to describe Hobie. They’re his biggest allies since he’d drop almost anything to help them cross a road or carry groceries.

Gwendy’s chucks aren’t the first and certainly won’t be the last thing he’ll steal. (You seriously think Hobie just happened to have shoes in her size and colour?)

He’ll definitely nick something of something of yours when you’re not looking. Once you realise, he’ll hold it high above your head and force you to jump for it. Why? Because he can.

Like every other British teen, Hobie’s dabbled in some underage drinking. It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught! When he’s drunk, he’ll be obnoxiously sweet and yell stuff like “You’re gorgeous, luv!” because he truly means it.

In addition to Hobie’s strange array of skills, being good at pub games is another. Beer pong, darts, etc… you name it: he’ll clear it. Hell, he might start organising them if he’s drunk enough.

In his personal humble opinion, roses are way too cliche for a romantic gift. It’s overdone, boring and stupidly difficult to obtain in his universe. So instead, Hobie rips off that patch you’ve been eyeing and gifts that to you.

As much as he’d like to, Hobie couldn’t rip off every patch for you. Instead, he makes a matching set and he’s cheesy enough to sew his one over his heart.

tag: @vhstown thanks for bean card xx

[merv606]

What if during the melee, Wolf headbutts Daniel harder, then throws him over his shoulder to take him to Silver, who’s made it out before Kreese can find him.

That’s who Silver called on the phone, he was backup in case Dennis failed to grab him (and of course he’d fail).

Wolf’s head connects, and for a split second Daniel flashes to Terry, how familiar this all seems as his hands come up to his face, his head snapping back, but then it’s lost as it all goes black.

Staggering, He didn’t register the other man catching him before he fell, easily thrown over Wolf’s shoulder as he quickly strode out.

When he wakes, it is, oddly enough, the fact that he’s no longer in his gi that registers first. A too big black sweater with a short silver zipper at the throat, open as far down as it can go.

Whoever this belongs too, it’s too big on him. His brain registers that it smells not only good but familiar. It seems like ….

“You’re awake. Good.”

Blood runs cold, and a shiver goes down his spine before weary brown eyes turn towards the voice. A voice he knows; oh he knows so well, because it’s the voice of his nightmares and of his dreams. It’s a voice he would, unfortunately, know anywhere. It’s a voice he knows intimately.

It’s the voice of Terry fucking Silver.

His head turns now, to track the man, more dangerous now than ever.

The great victory he thought he had won was hollow - barely even a speed bump.

What can even stop Terry now? Can anything even do that?!

He sure as hell can’t.

He tried.

He failed.

He’ll never be strong enough it seems.

“Lie still,” a hand on his chest, oddly gentle pressing him down, keeping him in place.

Daniel’s head is pounding too much to not listen. He closes his eyes.

“Head hurt?” And he can’t help but notice that Terry has lowered his voice as he asks.

He says nothing, only concentrating on the feel of his chest as it rises up and down, trying to ignore the hand still there.

“Mild concussion,” Terry continues. The doctor had assured Terry as such, saying he needed quiet and sleep to recover. Terry has already dealt with Wolf and how hard he had hit Danielle. He knows the message got though and it won’t happen again - which is of great importance because he also he knows his Danny-boy will try to escape.

He’d expect nothing less, nothing else, and he smiles.

“What?” Daniel starts, beautiful confusion in his voice, a lick of fear at the edge.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t have a back up plan?” Terry smiles, even if Daniel can’t see.

Terry stands now, walking a few feet from the bed, pausing to look out the window, at the vast expanse of ocean as his yacht cuts through the water, bringing him and his precious cargo someplace safer, more remote, less easily accessible.

Bless those offshore accounts he thinks, glad now, more than ever, that he actually funnelled most of his fortune into them.

His boy deserves the life of luxury after all, and whether he likes it or now. Terry is going to give it to him.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”

A threat to one.

A promise to another.

But still, it will come all the same.

Daniel closes his eyes, and sleeps.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I enjoyed your food and eating habits thoughts for Matt and Alfred as it's a nice little insight into their everyday lifestyle and mannerisms <3 Any thoughts on Arthur "forgets to eat until his stomach growls and his hands shake" Kirkland and Jack and Zee? Or for the UK bros or Francis if that more takes your fancy? <3 Thank you!

Rhys is a really good cook. Bara brith, Welsh rarebit, cawl, laverbread. The man knows what he's about. He's the second youngest in my set up but still a good deal older than Arthur so he grows up in a world where his mother is literally worshipped as a goddess. I put her right smack on the middle of a giant pile of tin which was famously the best and highest quality stuff in a world where it was desperately needed to create bronze. He grows up in stone wheelhouses with defensive towers set inside a ring fort and with that came a correspondingly decent diet. High protein, wealth being often valued less in cash than in cattle. Maman is importing gold from Ireland and wine from southern France and Greek trade goods are found. He suffers a lot of misery and violence as a young adult and that does affect his tastes in food but he never loses sight of the fact it should actually taste good. He's definitely a bit heavy on the pies and stews and he hasn't been able to entirely reconcile himself to the fact that it no longer a bit suspect of people who are wealthy enough to afford meat to not eat meat. The man has opinions on food. Lamb, mutton, leeks, cheese. He can have a conversation about it, okay. And he's very particular about how he enjoys said food. and not to dip too deep into the stereotypes but god fucking bless the Welsh for exporting the leek. The Anglo-Celtic diaspora owe a debt we will never be able to repay for the one goddamn allium that Brits seemed to actually like pre-war. He's definitely someone who's moods will be affected by when he last ate and how the food was and food is a pretty big love language for him. When he's trying to shack up with the neighbors in Brittany or Jersey or Manx the food is definitely an incentive to stay for breakfast.

Arthur for me is really interesting because he knows how to make decent food. He knows what makes food taste decent. He's had a feasting culture his entire fricken existence before 1800. Where you lose him is when trying to convince him food should taste good most if not all of the time. The Roman or perhaps slightly post roman world he's born to and raised in is one where luxury goods are coming in with spices and new vegetables and fruits are being introduced so he's had flavour from the very fucking beginning but still entirely regards it as optional. Food as a pleasure is almost alien in his brain for some reason. Late antiquity wasn't a great time for him but the slingshot extremism between everything has to be flavored with all the spices and um actually, food that tastes good is illegal is just so variable with this one. England is lush and fertile and there's no shortage of food at any point in history worse than the neighbors but you wouldn't fucken know it the way Arthur eats and hates joy. I think his outsized amount of power as an adult contributes to this habit of 'oh I'll just ride the extra battery pack that is being the weird patron saint of a rainy third of Great Britain. Wait, what do you mean I have to season my fucken food? And when that's behind him after WW2, he's increasingly irritated by the fact calories are indeed mandatory to survive. Man's taste buds never recovered from rationing in too many ways. Last 30 years he's kind of slipped towards enjoying food. The man has discovered garlic powder exists at least. Only trouble there is that now he experiments and god have mercy on his loved ones bowels. Plum sauce does not go in the spagbol please and thank you.

Zee is... More like her father than she'd like to admit. She really can be perfectly content with a cheese and marmite toastie and a cup of tea. Or one of her best inventions, instant coffee. She's got higher standards in that she generally prefers her food to be edible which is not something the medieval fucks listed above will always care about. She really really likes the act of eating as a social thing. Hangi made together in a large group, women gathered in the kitchen to make things like whitebait fritters and roasted muttonbird. She almost never ever, even when she is entitled to by one status or another took her food in her room and was always at breakfast in the morning. She always eats with people when she can. Food is almost more of an action or event to her than just personal pleasure. She's got a real weakness for fresh fruit. Just consumes batshit amounts of berries. Looking at her grocery bill is probably very funny because it's like, six items she'll rotate out for a fortnight at a time and then a fucken pile of expensive produce. Extremely fond of fish in general as well. She can cook but if anyone else present wants to take point, fine by her. She's very happy to perch on Jack's kitchen counter/bench and drink his good wine while he cooks. She might be described as slightly picky in some specific aspects especially when seafood is involved but she's really not going to have her entire life derailed because whatever her last meal wasn't great. When she was little, she didn't mind a boiled pudding or porridge for breakfast as long as it wasn't completely god awful. She's fonder of like the classic tea room sweet pastries than she'd like to admit and she's got a serious weakness for weird flavors of chocolate like a buttered toast chocolate bar and pineapple lumps. Food can be a tool of survival to her no problem, even if it's not great as well. Generally, she remembers to eat.

Jack cares a lot about food. In the immortal words of @paperbarks he's got the accent of a gold coast Hoon but the taste buds and pickiness of a Barossa sommelier. He's got that golden Mediterranean-esque climate. Sugar grows, mangos grow, finger limes are everywhere, stone fruit is plentiful. Jack wants food to taste excellent all of the time. That's not to say he's picky as in he's not going to absolutely demolish a meat pie or a chiko roll or douse his fries in chicken salt because he absolutely is but he'll genuinely ponder what wine goes best with that and how to keep Zee from drinking it all before he's even plated up dinner. His moods get absolutely fucking foul when he doesn't eat too. He's the second youngest and generally pretty chill and doesn't take all that much seriously but when he's hungry or something is genuinely shit, no one's having a good time. It was a struggle keeping his ass completely fed when he was young and food was seasonal and gonna suck a good part of the year. By far, he's the person most likely to complain about food in any given time. Also my god he can make a good cup of coffee. Chronic snacker too. All of them have some pretty serious appetites but he's probably up there tied with anyone else.