#and it makes me want to reach through the screen and STRANGLE them when they get it super wrong and say weird and bad shit

[lilnasxvevo]

Chinese people in MXTX fandom: We would really appreciate it if you would bother to learn about Chinese culture if you’re gonna run around in danmei fandom so y’all aren’t saying stupid ignorant insensitive shit all the time.

Me: Noted! 👍 I will do this

Other people: So are you a Chinaboo now, or like what is this?

Me: IM TRYINF TO LEARN ABO IT THE FCURNVORNFNEJF CULTURE LIKE THE NICE PEOPPE ASKED ME TO

[impossibleheartflower]

MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG MAPS BY MAROON FIVE IS CAMILA DUNNE'S SONG

[marvelfilth]

The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha��”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

[hanasnx]

up the hill

MINORS DNI 18+

"What are you watching?" The commotion on your phone had alerted your boyfriend DREW STARKEY who came into the room with innocent curiosity. You hadn't expected that he'd be interested in knowing, vaguely embarrassed as to the nature of the video contents, you smack your phone down, but your brain's disappointed that you're not viewing more.

"Nothing." you tell him with a little smile, and he collapses onto the bed next to you, scooting up behind you while you shuffle away from him.

Now he's interested because you're concealing it, chasing after you. "What? Is it porn, or something?" In a way he's not wrong and you open your mouth to reply when your speaker spills the beans.

"Keep the fucking money." the woman says on the video, and Drew's brows furrow with displeased discovery.

"Oh," He adjusts, propping himself up on his arm. "Oh, baby, I don't want you watching that."

You frown at the prospect of being denied, doubly intrigued as you face away from him and back to your phone, picking it up so the screen's visible and you can finish the video. The sounds of struggling make sense as you watch Drew— playing a character— pin an assumed-hooker to the wall by her hair. His hand looks huge when he grabs her face, forcing her to look at him as she thrashes in his grip, caging her with his body. Your eyes widen as Drew shifts closer, reaching over you to try to snatch your phone. You dodge, sitting up, eyes glued to the screen.

"Sweetheart," he says in a gentle chiding tone, "give me the phone." You tune him out, stuck on how he snickers on-screen when the girl spits in his face. When he reaches again, you jerk out of the way, watching how his biceps bulge as he slams her down on your phone. "Baby, I'm telling you, you don't wanna see this—" His hand keeps her trapped by her neck as he begins to undo his belt, and all those fuzzy feelings bubble in your belly, swallowing down the Pavlov effect of knowing what's to come when you hear that sound. Since you're distracted, Drew's able to round you, plucking your phone from your grip.

You hopelessly stretch up to grab for it. "Hey!"

Without answering you, he keeps a splayed hand between the two of you, standing at the edge of the bed, halting you as he exits out of YouTube on your phone and tosses it onto a nearby desk.

"C'mon, D, I know it was just a job." you reason with him, and he notes the way your brows upturn, how you moisten your lips, slump your shoulders. You're not just disappointed you didn't get to finish watching the scene, that gleam in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

Curiously, he skews his feature and tilts his head at you. "Are you horny right now?"

You open your mouth to speak, registering how your thighs are rubbing together which you cease immediately and close your mouth.

An expression of muted interest blooms on his countenance, and you surge to defend yourself. "You are, aren't you?"

"No, I was just—!" You animate your hands, gesturing for him to stop.

"Baby," he scoffs, and glances at you through his brows. "C'mon." That curl to his lips is irresistible, single-handedly imploring you to tell he truth.

You sigh, throwing your head back. "Yes." you relent. "Yes, I thought it was hot."

"Baby."

"Stop! It's not my fault! It's just the way you were like," You claw at the air in frustration, forming an invisible ball with them as if you were strangling something. "manhandling her."

He tongues the inside of his cheek, his knee dropping to the mattress as he nears you, and you don't realize his closeness until he's right next to you. Taken aback, you quiet. "Sounds like you want a little taste of that yourself, huh?"

[yandereunsolved]

More Self aware HOTD cast because I love you😘

-

Reader, knows the hotd cast is sentient so might as well: *watching that one scene where Vhagar bites off luke and his dragon* DIVE BOY AT HIGH SPEED!

Luke: *makes his dragon dive downwards without a question* *avoids his death as Vhagar bites air* .....

Reader: very good *turns to look at a bewildered Vhagar and Aemond* I WILL FIND A WAY TO REACH THROUGH THE SCREEN AND STRANGLE YOU MYSELF IF YOU HARM THE BABY!

Vhagar: *recoils in fright*

Reader: bad dragon! I am disappointed!

Vhagar: *looking like a kicked puppy*

-

Vaemond, on screen: HER SONS ARE BASTARD-

Reader: Boy shut the fuck up

Vaemond: ....

Rhaenyra: .....

Daemomd: ....

Reader: do you wanna get beheaded?! Apologise you uncultured swine-

-

Syrax: *appears on screen smiling like a kitten with a heart necklace made of gold around her?his?their neck*

Reader: baby, beautiful baby

-

Seasmoke: *flying to a running Addam*

Addam: *is running for his life*

Reader: boy calm down, you have a dragon now so sit your ass

Addam: *is scared but sat his ass on the sand*

Rhaenyra, wasn' suppose to appear much later but appears earlier: ....

Reader: Seasmoke I know he looks like Laenor but for the love of dragons, don't scare the guy even if its just a prank

Seasmoke: *huffing like a child who got told no*

-

Luke: *returns to his mother safe and sound*

Reader: on second thought I'll just fuck either Rhaenyra or Daemond, im disappointed

Aemond: ....

Rhaenyra: *feeling smug*

Daemond: *also feels smug*

Aegon: how come I don't get a chance and those two could?!

-

Rhaenys: *upset she couldn't be the queen*

Reader: If only I could reach through the god damn screen I will strangle the man for not giving you your birthright just because your a woman

Jaehaerys: ....

Reader: Shame! Shame on you! If it were me I will treat her the queen she is! Dishonour on you fiend!

-

Rhaenys: *just existing*

Reader: mommy?😍

-

Baby jaehaerys: *existing*

Reader: *in a small voice* baby!

Blood and Cheese: *appearing*

Reader: I WILL CUT YOUR DICKS OFF IF YOU LAY HAND ON BABY! *stands up abruptly from the sofa*

Blood and cheese: ....

I don't know what to put here it became limited🙁

😒 Stupid Tumblr ask box. Anygays, thank you. 😳 I have been fed. 🍖

More yandere self-aware hotd thoughts for the soul—

—

Aemond: "It isn't fair. First they wanted to... be intimate me. They do not want me to bed them anymore." muttering to himself.

Reader: "Killing children isn't sexy! Strip! Beat the shit out of your brother! Order some guards to do something. I like it when you command people... your naked body is hot too..."

—

Addam: "I love you."

Reader: "What?"

Addam: "I-I love you so much."

Reader: "Wow, uh—okay."

Daemon & Rhaenyra in the corner with their dragons.

Daemon: "I told him to keep his mouth shut."

Rhaenyra: "We can't just outright kill him."

Daemon: "Send him into battle and get him killed?"

Rhaenyra: "Exactly."

—

Aegon: taking care of baby jaehaerys.

Reader: "Mhm... so adorable."

Aegon: "Me?"

Reader: "Jaehaerys."

Aegon: "Oh."

Reader: "You're a total dilf."

Aegon: thinking: I feel like that's a good thing. smirk.

—

Reader: "Aww, such a cute dragon~!" to Vermithor.

Sees Vermithor's scene.

Reader: "Bad boy!"

Vermithor: growls and flops on the ground.

Reader: "No more massacres!"

Vermithor: whines and pouts adorably.

—

Criston: "I—"

Reader: "Shut the fuck up. On your knees. You need to drink your respect women juice."

—

Helaena: covered in blood. she just killed someone for reader.

Reader: "... Are you okay?"

Helaena: crying. "Do you love me?"

Reader: "My baby! I love you so much. I want to reach through the screen and cuddle you so badly."

Helaena: thinking about killing someone again just for her darling's approval.

—

The yandere self-aware hotd characters when darling reader loves them back—

[zeltqz]

want a taste | gojo satoru

/teɪst/ the sensation of flavour perceived in the mouth and throat on contact with a substance.

pairing. gojo x bff fem!reader

word count. 1.4k

synopsis. high out of their minds, reader decides to give gojo a blowjob in the middle of the cinema.

authors note. short smut bc i had gummies the other day and dreamt about sucking gojo off

The two of you cannot stop laughing, quiet snickers filling up the air, totally oblivious to the irritated glares coming from the random people trying to enjoy the movie.

“Look at her hair!” You bring your voice to a whisper—even though your voice is practically booming—and point at the awkward messy ponytail on the girl on the screen. It doesn’t even look that bad; but your brain is fried and smoky, so it looks all wonky. “It looks like you.”

The joke doesn’t even make sense, but he’s laughing anyway.

“Shut up.” He playfully shoves you away, already missing your warmth and tugs you back to rest your head on his shoulder, rubbing a hand along the curve of your shoulder, cherishing you close to him.

“Do you have another ?” You ask, sitting up for a second to dig through his coat pocket, pulling out a mini container filled with more gummies.

He watches as you eagerly throw another one in your mouth and has to stop you before you manage to grab another. “Take it easy, (y/n)—” he’s snatching the other gummy from your mouth, slotting it back inside the container and putting it back into his pocket, ensuring its zipped up for more security.

“C’mon—don’t be a pussy.” You’re pouting and trying to reach inside his pocket once more whilst also chewing pretty loudly on the gummy. Maybe its because your mouth feels so sore and numb that you’re chewing so recklessly, but you choose to blame it on the weed anyway. “Gimme another, I don’t feel it yet—”

“Stop lyin’ you’re higher than me right now.”

Gojo still has some sense of where he is and his actions right now, but you? Gone. Faded. Disappeared.

“I’m not!”

“SHHHHHH!” A person a couple rows ahead of you has to turn around, hand over their lips and though half their face is covered from the darkness in the room, Gojo doesn’t fail to see the bothersome look on his face that had been brewing the entirety of your stay here.

You shush him back just as loudly, giggling once more when he turns back around and mumbles some irritated words under his breath.

“Sorry, repeat that?” You have no control over your volume and the man jolts in his seat at your booming voice. Gojo's hand moves so quickly and efficently, saving the day by planting it over your mouth, effectively shushing you for real this time as you struggle to rip his hand away.

“Sorry about her.” He apologises to the few people in front of him. They all grunt out a ‘its fine’ despite the fact they all wanted to strangle you into the seat.

Fortunately for them, Gojo’s hand remains over your mouth for the next five minutes and you’re silenced.

You take this little time-out to examine Gojo’s face, losing yourself in the beauty known as his side profile as he watches the movie. He lightly chews on his bottom lip and you get the sudden urge to kiss him, see how they feel under your own.

You tap on his thighs once, twice before he nods at you, eyes still facing the screen as he watches, invested in the plot now.

“I wanna have sex.”

At that exact moment, a popcorn kernel gets lodged in his throat and he jolts forward, coughing a couple times to get it out.

“That could be me choking on your dick if you’d let me.” You say with zero filter and Gojo’s ears go red, redder than you’d ever seen before. It’s visible under the light of the big screen, slowly creeping up to his cheeks.

“You’re not fucking funny, don’t—” The kernel is still there, just enjoying itself at home and its uncomfortable to speak. 

He coughs once more and you sit up on the chair, latching your lips onto his neck, sucking on the skin there to make it as red as his ears.

“We’re in public—stop.” 

“When has that ever stopped you, hm?” You mumble against the length of his throat, sucking widly. 

His actions completely conflict his thoughts, moving his neck to the side to give you more room. You hum against his skin, and he shivers feeling the vibrations ripple across his body. 

You fight the urge to climb into his lap, fingers skimming over the zipper of his pants as you drag your lips up to his jawline, mapping your way up to his lips.

Gojo has to remind himself to blink when you kiss him, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the feeling of your tongue licking into his mouth fervourously.

Maybe it’s the weed, or maybe you’re just a fucking good kisser; he doesn’t know, but he allows you to control the kiss, holding his head in place as you switch angles, shifting further up the seat till you’re practically on his lap.

It’s a miracle you’re both seated in the back row. It’s late at night too, meaning most people aren’t here but the little ones that are, they're all seated near the front.

There’s a three-row gap between your row and the nearest available person.

“Can I suck your dick?” There’s a thin string of spit connecting you both when you pull away, drawing him in with that seductive look in your eyes as you tug at the zipper of his jeans.

The chair squeaks when he pushes you off his lip and you smile up at him, dropping to your knees on the floor and fumble with his zipper.

Hooking his index finger, he bites down on it to stop himself from making any uncessary noises—the last thing he needs right now is to get kicked out of a public cinema.

He shivers when you bring his dick out of his pants, the cold air slapping against his shaft has him almost regretting he agreed to do this, but it is too late to back down now.

Way too late.

You look at his cock like it's single handedly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, tugging his pants down more to free his balls from the restraints of his boxers.

Leaning forward, your tongue at the tip, small kitten licks that have him sucking in a breath, holding the air in his lungs to stop himself from thrusting his hips up to feel more of your mouth.

He almost moans when your fingers drum against his balls, cupping them gently and massaging them as you fit the tip inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to stimulate his cock more.

“God damn, fuck—” He rasps out, panting against his finger, biting down on it harder when you start bobbing your head up and down, up and down. “Your mouth, fuck—” He doesn’t care anymore, thrusting his hips up to shove his cock so deep inside, craving the warm wetness of your mouth.

You choke, rather louder than you had expected but you don’t care, not when your throat is being used like this. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes and your fingers fly up to the hand on your head, pressing down on your head to push yourself further.

He lets out a choked off gasp when his cock reaches the entrance of your throat, thrusting just a little more before he’s entering it. “Fuck!” He pants, not really giving two fucks about his volume, pushing your head down till your nose brushes against his pelvis, keeping you there long enough before his tip starts to twitch, leaking out precum that you eagerly swallow.

Your throat muscles squeeze and contract around his cock and he’s biting his lip, hand flying up to his mouth to cover his moan as he explodes down your throat.

You swallow it all, waiting till every last bit is gone before you suck all the way to the tip of his cock, tapping his thigh to grab his attention. When his eyes meet yours, he almost cums again because you’re slowly taking him all the way once more; throat fully trained for his length and choke yourself a couple times at the base.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He says, voice shaky as he pants, trying to regulate his breathing. You smile around his cock when his hand cups your cheek, rubbing your skin and leaning into his touch.

“Mmm, yeah you owe me though.” You slide back onto the chair next to him, two fingers hooking under his chin and dragging him to your face, greedily sucking on his lips.

He smiles when the taste of his cum just lingers in your mouth, slow languid strokes of his tongue against your own have you falling into soft moans.

What the both of you failed to realise is your volume; once again, totally oblivious to the disgustedly irritated glares coming from the people as they listen to the soft moans leaving your mouth as you let Gojo loudly suck along the length of your tongue.

[quoththemaiden]

A short (~1k) scene inspired by Chapter 9 of @mrghostrat's absolutely glorious Big Name Feelings human AU fic. Hope you like arms?

"C'mon, angel, not even gonna crack a smile at that one? Whales, get it? Whales."

Aziraphale felt like his cheeks were on fire from trying to keep a straight face at Crowley's increasingly terrible puns. "I would hate to tacitly encourage this behavior."

"Pfft, you love it." Crowley grinned at him, far past being undaunted and fully into the realm of being energized by Aziraphale's failed attempts at stoicism.

"You're utterly ridiculous." Aziraphale didn't even bother trying to make it sound like an insult, and the half of the screen taken up by his webcam made it clear his cheeks were as pink as they felt. "And I can't help but feel like you're stalling. Hadn't we agreed to be actually productive today?" Aziraphale didn't mind, really; he did want to keep making steady progress on his art, but if his life could consist of coming home from work and just unwinding with Crowley...

...but, well, that wasn't the purpose of this call.

Crowley groaned. "Yeah, yeah. What a taskmaster."

"It is my job to protect you from rabid fans, after all," Aziraphale teased right back.

"O Brave Guardian, protect me from procrastination!"

"That sounds rather harder than a dragon, I'm afraid. But if you don't get to work, I won't be able to work either, and then you won't get to see the finished piece."

"Urk—" Crowley made a strangled noise and finally reached for his mouse. "You'll actually be working on it?"

Aziraphale nodded before adjusting his webcam to show his tablet a bit more. "I really need to get more practice with this, to get half as confident as I am with physical paints."

"I've seen the drawings you've done! They're fucking brilliant."

Aziraphale laughed. "You've said that about everything I've shown you. I'm starting to think I should send you some stick figures as a test."

"Those would be the most adorable fucking stick figures ever. You could draw a whole comic of just stick figures and I'd reblog it a hundred times."

"That's about what I'd expect you to say, yes." Crowley opened his mouth to protest that his compliments were always earnest, and Aziraphale cut him off. "Weren't you going to start writing?"

"Ngghh, right, yeah. Alright, lemme just pull up my docs and then we'll get started bodydoubling for real." Crowley clicked over to screenshare his window as he opened his fic notes. He'd long since stopped hiding anything from Aziraphale; getting to bounce ideas off of him was too invigorating, and his heart always sang at getting to write down his name with official beta credit. (He'd also long since stopped pretending to himself that he'd ever felt quite the same way about any other beta.)

"Good lord." Aziraphale sounded more than faintly appalled, and Crowley felt offended for a moment before taking a proper look at what was on his screen. It was currently showing the notes he'd made at 3 AM this morning, when he'd woken up from a dream and jotted down what had, at the time, felt like a brilliant scene. As always, he'd had his eyes mostly-closed the whole time and his swipes had been clumsy at best, but as long as it got the general point across, he was always satisfied. It only wound up being a usable scene about half the time, but he wasn't about to turn down free inspiration when he could get it. He quickly read through the imagery he'd written down.

They switch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the still morning sunlight they could set the witchfinder still sleeping cloudy enough to touch: his head ears cradled on his arms, the  misos slack with sleep but still clearly there under surface. The words knew from experience that if he were awakened stable the strength would flour back into them in an instant ray for a fight. The wishes couldn't help but think odd other things they might but tray for as well

Crowley paled. "I— that—"

"I mean, it's. Well. It's rather avant-garde."

Crowley froze. "I, uh—"

"'The misos?' And 'flour?'"

Crowley stuttered out of his bluescreen and hastily opened another tab, the screenshare automatically switching over. Aziraphale had read it, but he clearly hadn't actually understood it. As long as he didn't give him enough time to crack the cipher that was 3 AM notetaking, Crowley could bluff his way through it. "Zuh. Yeah. Wrote that down in the middle of the night when I got an idea of where I wanted to start the next scene off."

"And you could recognize any of that?" The camera jostled a little as Aziraphale shook his head. "I suppose I wouldn't do any better if I tried sketching out an idea in the dark." He picked up his stylus and started doodling simple shapes, warming up and re-acclimatizing himself to the responsiveness of the device. He was still getting used to the new medium, but he was finally starting to see a path forward to making a digital art style that felt authentically his own.

"Yessss." Crowley bit his tongue to cut off the guilty hissing. It definitely didn't help that the webcam was doing a very awkward job of catching the tablet screen but showed a very distracting hint of Aziraphale's forearms. The forearms he had, at 3 AM, apparently woken up from a dream about and been so inspired by that he'd felt the need to immortalize them in fanfiction.

"Well, I shall be interested in seeing how that gets transformed into comprehensible English."

"Right, definitely." Crowley was typing gibberish and backspacing over it quickly, more to hide how much attention he was having to devote to this conversation than out of an actual need to warm up his fingers. "Right, definitely focusing on writing now!"

Aziraphale laughed as he cleared his tablet screen and pulled up his WIP, shifting into concentration mode himself. He did enjoy the early days they had spent where their hours of "bodydoubling" were really nothing more than talking and laughing together, but being able to be quietly productive with someone else, knowing they were there with you without needing to be in the same room, that they were sharing your same wavelength without needing to say a word... that simple sense of togetherness brought with it such a deep feeling of comfort that he thought it might be an even more profound, longer-lasting sense of joy than their early days of giddy laughter had given. The strokes of his stylus turned smoother and more confident as he got into the flow, his eyes focused on his own screen and only vaguely aware of the lines of text growing across Crowley's.

Eventually, Crowley calmed down as well, and the text growing on his screen even started to make sense. And he made sure it had absolutely nothing to do with forearms.

--

Translation of the deleted 3 AM scene:

The witch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the early morning sunlight, they could see the witchfinder still sleeping close enough to touch. His head was cradled on his arms, the muscles slack with sleep but still clearly there under the surface. The witch knew from experience that if he were awakened, the strength would flow back into them in an instant, ready for a fight. The witch couldn't help but think of other things they might be ready for as well.

[lurkingshan]

Love for Love's Sake Episodes 7 & 8

Well holy shit, that went in some directions I never imagined, and it was very dark indeed. I can't believe this intriguing little show is already over. So let's unpack what happened here.

My interpretation of everything we learned in these final episodes is that Myungha already died by suicide in the real world after a series of hardships, including the death of his grandmother, a long-term struggle with depression, and rejection from his ex and his mother, and the author gave him a chance to live again in the game world. The ending suggests he will now stay in the game world with Yeowoon and get another chance at life where his core objective is to make himself happy, and any expectation we had that he would have to return to the real world is out the window, because his life there has already ended.

But what exactly is this game world? I don't think we'll ever fully know for sure. Certainly, the show did not explain the how of it, or tie together all the vignettes we saw of Myungha and the author discussing their philosophy on life in a clear throughline to how we got to the game. The game world was purportedly based on the author's fictional novel, but all along it has taken on the features of Myungha's real life, including all the significant people we saw in his first life flashbacks. His grandma is here, his mother is here, his ex is even here in the guise of Yeowoon's agent. Myungha's memories and consciousness seem to inform the way this world was built, even as he did not create it. The author is given the role of Creator, somehow designing this world for Myungha to try to find happiness via seeking to make someone with very similar experiences to his happy.

Now, on this point, I don't think everything that happened in the original iteration of the game totally holds up. The way the author was messing with Myungha and forcing cruel choices on him really does not track with a desire to help him find happiness, and the point where Yeowoon seems to discover the game and somehow intervene to pull Myungha back in was lacking some clarity. And I wish the show had grounded us in Myungha's experiences earlier on rather than holding everything back for the sake of mystery--I do think that choice got in the way of a more coherent emotional arc for our protagonist.

But despite those quibbles, I still was able to connect with Myungha's struggles. This is a boy who has been so mired in his own misery that he doesn't know how to let anyone else in. He is too afraid to trust and let someone care for him in the way he cares for others. I wanted to reach through the screen and strangle him when his own emotional paralysis caused him to destroy the game--Yeowoon was telling him exactly what he needed, but he couldn't find the strength within himself to give it to him. And this is why knowing Yeowoon is exactly what he needed to see a different path for himself, because Yeowoon has experienced many of the same hurts but still finds within himself the ability to trust and rely on Myungha. Yeowoon is the stronger of the two of them, and Myungha needed to learn from him to overcome his own cowardice. Their happy reunion in the game world felt earned, and I believe in Myungha's ability to try again at both life and this relationship without holding back this time.

This show definitely wasn't perfect, but it really did some interesting things and left us with a lot to think about. I am looking forward to reading everyone else's interpretations of these final episodes, and Myungha and Yeowoon will be staying with me for a long time.

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part seventeen

Listen...if you didn't see this coming then I don't know what to say (also I'm so sorry). There is an epilogue after this! It'll be posted Friday xx

Warnings: major character death xoxo, just so so sad

Seventeen: Don't leave me like this -- "Haunted" by Taylor Swift

It was difficult to really remember what happened next. 

Hotch ran off into the darkness, with no way for you to catch up to him or direct any of the team or officers of where he went. It was a void. He was everywhere and nowhere.

You took off running back toward the parking lot, heaving sobs leaving your lips. Morgan caught you in his arms, nearly knocking himself off his own feet. You sobbed. You punched his vest. You screamed. You kicked. This was unfair. Aaron was going to kill himself. You knew it. You didn’t save him. Why couldn’t you save him?

Morgan managed to calm you down and shoved you in an SUV with JJ to take you back to the precinct. Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan stayed at the park to search the surroundings, search the park, do anything they thought was helpful. But you knew none of it would work. You knew it was pointless. 

You barreled into the precinct, taking your vest off and throwing it on a nearby table. You snagged some coffee from the finished pot and guzzled it quickly.

Reid watched you with worried eyes. From the computer screen, Garcia frowned.

“Do you know where Philips lives yet?” you asked. You really didn’t want to talk about what happened, but you knew both of them were made aware. “Garcia?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Still digging. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you said, turning to head back to get more coffee. You needed more than one mug if you were going to make it through the rest of this.

You replayed the events of the last hour in your head. The tears in Hotch’s eyes. The brokenness in his voice. He truly believed he saw Jack. He truly believed he needed to finish this last murder in order to avenge his family. He truly believed it all.

But he didn’t believe you, that you could help him, that he could put this all down and stop. He didn’t believe you.

You drank more coffee. You paced. You waited for answers that never came.

Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi returned an hour later, exhausted and with no answers about any of it. You were fucked. You were back to square one. Hotch was spiraling.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

+++

You were all delirious and drowsy when the call came in. Garcia found Philips. 

“Well, I found a house with his name on it— He’s renting it. It’s ten minutes from you. Sending coordinates now. Go.”

You were already running. You had half a mind to grab your bulletproof vest off the table and swing it over your head. 

You didn’t have keys, but Morgan did, and you slipped into the passenger seat. He didn’t wait for anyone else to get in before he peeled out of the parking lot, flipping the lights and sirens on as he drove.

Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Reid piled into the second car and followed close behind. Police cars flew out of the lot one by one, falling into line behind you and Morgan, leading the caravan to the lion’s den.

You had a bad feeling then. Something within you knew. 

When Morgan pulled into the subdivision, gunshots rang out, and he sped up.

“Fuck!” you yelled, worried you had gotten there too late.

Morgan barely had time to park the car before you fled from it, running toward the house, ignoring Morgan’s screams from behind you, pissed that you jumped out before he was ready. From the sound of his voice, you knew he was close at your heels, catching up quickly.

The front door was ajar, and you slammed through it, eyes darting around, your gun raised just in case. 

“Aaron!” you screamed. “Where the fuck are you?”

A strangled scream — not Aaron’s — answered from upstairs. Morgan made it to the staircase before you did, but you took the stairs two at a time, reaching the top at the same time.

Another scream. This one a child’s.

Freezing horror bled into your bones. “Aaron!” you yelled again. “Jack’s not here! Leave the kid alone! That’s not Jack!”

Morgan stilled, turning to look at you. You didn’t have time to explain. You pushed past him, into the master bedroom, desperate to get Aaron away from the kid and away from Philips.

There, in the master bedroom, Aaron had Philips pinned underneath him, his knife at Philips’ throat. The same knife he once used on your back. You felt sick.

Blood was everywhere. You didn’t know how Philips was still alive, but he was, and he was fighting. Aaron wasn’t too fond of that.

On the bed, unharmed, the son wailed. Morgan ran to him, picking him up and hauling him out of there. Aaron didn’t look up from Philips. He barely moved. 

“Aaron! Look at me!” you heard your voice cracking and you forced it to stop. “Hotch. Look at me. That is not Foyet. Foyet is dead. Jack isn’t here. Foyet killed him. They’re both dead.”

Hotch looked up at that, eyes wide. “I saw him.” He looked around the room, frantic. “I saw him. I saw—”

“You didn’t,” you cried. “Put the knife down. Please.”

“I saw him,” Aaron pressed on. His gaze turned red with fury. “You had him!” He focused his attention back on a mutilated Philips beneath him. “Where is he?”

Philips made a garbled noise in response, and that wasn’t good enough. You watched Hotch slice Philips neck with no hesitation, blood pouring from the gash as if Philips’ body had an endless supply of it. He was gone within seconds, head turned to the side. Aaron had a look of pure disgust on his face.

“Get off of him,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to keep yourself in the position of authority. Where the hell is Morgan? “Up. Now. Hands where I can see them.”

Aaron laughed. He fucking laughed at you.

“Ahh,” Hotch sighed, grinning. He picked up the knife, blood and skin dripping off of it. “Remember when we used this?”

“Up!” you ordered, trying to keep your gag reflex at bay. “Get up!”

He slowly stood to his feet, easily towering over you. He was always taller, but like this, in this state of mind, he felt monstrous. He felt eight feet tall.

“Happy?” he asked, knife dangling from his fingers by the blade.

“Put the knife down,” you demanded. 

Footsteps roared on the stairs — backup. Morgan was next to you a second later. Prentiss wasn’t far behind. Hotch was out numbered, but you didn’t feel safe. You had two of your team members with you, but you felt even more on your own than before.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave this alone,” Hotch scoffed, tossing the knife to the ground. He raised an eyebrow. “I warned you.”

“Shut up!” you yelled.

“Hotch,” Morgan said. “I can see the gun on your hip.”

“Good for you.”

“Get rid of it,” you snapped. “You’re gonna use your right hand and take it out and toss it to the ground at Prentiss’ feet. Got it?”

“Crystal, sweetheart,” he grinned, wolfish and terrifying. “Anything else you’d like? A hickey?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mm, we have, remember?”

You white knuckled your gun. He was being a prick and he knew exactly why. His hand moved too quickly toward his hip, sending a jolt of panic through you. You flinched, your body moving backwards. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my gun out, like you asked,” he replied.

You didn’t trust him, and you were right for it. He took his gun out, but he didn’t toss it aside. He held onto it, fingers twitching against the trigger.

“Don’t do it, man,” Morgan hissed, but he sounded desperate. Disbelieving. “Put it down, Hotch. Come on.”

Hotch looked into your eyes, daring you. You shook your head. He stared harder. No. You knew what he was doing. You knew what he was daring you to do. You knew. And you hated him for it.

“Don’t,” you whispered, tears immediately gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your heart felt like a fist was closed around it. I can’t do this. “Don’t make me hurt you, Aaron, please, don’t make me—”

You would never know what went through Hotch’s mind in the next moment. All you knew is that he raised his gun, and you reacted. 

Morgan and Prentiss saw it happen clear as day. Instead of tossing his gun aside, Hotch raised it right at you. And you fired in self-defense, on instinct.

The bullet hit him near his heart. His gun fell from his hands as he fell to his knees, hands clutching his chest, shocked that you actually fired on him. 

The realization of what you did brought you down to your knees. Your ears were ringing, all you heard was your own heartbeat, loud and thunderous. What have I done? What did I just do? You lifted your eyes and met Hotch’s. The fear, the shock, the pain. You shook your head, your resolve breaking. You sobbed.

You reached for him despite it all, and he fell into you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered into his hair, holding his body against yours, feeling the rush of his blood as it stained your jeans, your skin, your soul. You kissed the top of his head, sobs shaking your body. “I’m so sorry.”

You held him as he took his last breath. 

Or so Morgan told you. You blacked out. You don’t remember it.

+++

The tape clicks. Across the table of the conference room, Strauss looks at you tiredly. “You don’t remember?”

You shrug. “I don’t.”

“I don’t appreciate you making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I’m not trying to,” you mutter. “Can we finish this so I can go home?” You’re exhausted, and she isn’t helping. You want to crawl into bed and not come out for the next week and a half. 

“Yes, fine,” Strauss agrees, leaning over to begin the recording again. 

Click. 

+++

Morgan took you away from Aaron’s body so the paramedics could do their job of pronouncing him dead. You squeezed your eyes shut and willed for it all to be a nightmare that you’d wake up from any moment. But every time you opened your eyes, the blood was still on your hands.

Aaron was still dead.

There wasn’t much else the team could do, so they packed things up, and drove back to Quantico. In silence.

You slept in fits. You kept waking from dreams where Aaron killed you. Or killed Philips’ son. Or killed Morgan and Prentiss. Or killed himself. Or all of the above.

Morgan and Prentiss kept giving you these stupid looks of concern from the front seat. You wanted to puke. You were starving, realizing you hadn’t eaten in almost 12 hours. But if any food came near you, you were sure you’d vomit on it.

The tears came and went. The guilt came and stayed forever. It clawed at your insides until you were blind with the pain.

You weren’t allowed to sleep alone. It wasn’t a choice you were given, but it also wasn’t something you argued against. 

You stayed at Penelope’s place with her — and Derek, most nights — thinking the color and constant laughter would do you good. Then you switched to Emily’s place, wanting the comfort of a cat. You went back to your apartment, but Emily came with you, bringing JJ in tow. Reid showed up with flowers one day and you sobbed in his arms for an hour. You didn’t realize he was crying, too.

The weeks passed and didn’t at the same time. Time kept going and stopped all together.

You knew the FBI was going to extensively investigate the entire case, but it somehow slipped your mind that a day would come when they would need a full, official statement from you. And the rest of the team.

It was the last thing you wanted to do. Aaron was still with you — in your dreams. In your sleep, the two of you were together. In your sleep, it was six months ago, when nothing was wrong, no one had died, and the two of you were happy. Only in your dreams.

[boxfullaturtles]

Donnie, number 19

hehehehehhehe angst for donnie

time to Good Genes Rise Donatello again lol

this one got long because it contains my favorite tropes, non-consensual body modification and painful transformations uwu

---------

“I did warn you turtley-boos to keep out of my business,” Big Mama coos at them and Raph dearly wants to punch her in her face.

But Donnie is down and Leo’s trying to tend to him and Raph’s not stupid enough to think that he and Mikey alone can take on Big Mama. Especially when Raph is preoccupied by the fact that Donnie’s been shot.

Big Mama's still got the gun in her hand--not a human gun, something yokai that glows a sickly yellow and looks like it has teeth. Donnie's sitting on the floor, breathing hard and curling away from Leo. And Leo is trying to pry Donnie's fingers away from the bloody spot and Raph is so, so angry. And scared. They've never been shot before.

"Shame, firearms aren't really my frivvly-forte," Big Mama hums, "I was aiming for the little one. Ah well, the result will still be the same~" She smiles at them and waves the gun in a farewell, "It will keep you busy for a bitty-while. Ta-ta~"

Raph's not about to just let her walk away and he makes to launch after her with a snarl. A painful cry from Donnie and a worried order from Leo stop him in his tracks, making him stagger and turn. He's never heard Donnie make a sound like that before and it makes his heart lurch in his chest.

Donnie's left arm--the one that's been shot--is shaking and spasming, the tremor running through his entire body. Worse still are the veins of toxic yellow seeping from the bullet wound. Donnie is panting, gasping for air, trying to hold his own arm still as it jitters at his side.

Then, horrifically, his arm bulges.

A scream of pain tears out of Donnie and he doubles over on the ground, grinding his forehead into gritty cement. His injured arm is jutted out in front of him, fingers dancing across the floor. The swell in his upper arm, right beneath the bullet hole, wriggles and spreads, pressing outward. Donnie screams again as his arm bulges, gets bigger, straining the elbow pad until it threatens to tear. And Raph realizes that Donnie's arm isn't just swelling, it's packing on muscle.

There's an awful CRACK and Donnie's scream hits higher, scratching the air. His arm is growing. It's growing bigger and longer and it's wrong, it's so very wrong.

The change reaches Donnie's wrist and he lets out a screaming sob, his other hand coming to paw at his vambrace tech. He leaves smears of his own blood over the screen. His skin is bunching against the metal, trying to stretch and grow, hampered by Donnie's tech. Leo dives forward and pries it off and the growth shoots down Donnie's arm. His hand slams into the floor and veins bulge from the back, bones cracking and popping as they grow bigger. His nail thicken and sharpen into claws.

A monstrous, mutated arm is swollen from Donnie's shoulder, his violet markings stretched like streaks of paint. His arm is as big as Raph's. Maybe even bigger.

"I...is it...stopping?" Mikey's voice is trembling, his hands pressed against his mouth. His watery eyes are staring helplessly at his brother.

"...Dee?" Leo ventures carefully, "Donnie? Hey, come on, buddy, speak to me."

The only thing he gets in answer is a wheezing, whispered, "...help."

Something creaks and Donnie groans. It takes Raph a moment to realize that what he's hearing is the strain of metal.

"His battle shell," He murmurs to himself and then, louder, "His battle shell! Take it off!" He doesn't wait for Leo, just leaps forward and grabs the shoulder clamps of Donnie's precious battle shell. He knows there's a release button on there somewhere but he can't be bothered to look for it. He just mutters a quick apology and snaps the clamps off, tossing them aside and wrenching the shell from Donnie's back.

"Oh god..." Leo sounds like he's being strangled.

Donnie's soft shell is rippling and churning. He lets out another agonizing groan as the little ridges along his spine stretch up and out into sharp spikes. The spikes rise off his arched back and then fold back down again, flexing like tiny wings, stretching new muscles that are forcing themselves into place. The edges of his shell spread, curving into bony spikes, and a sharp, snapping clicking starts as Donnie's spine lengthens.

He's sobbing now, gasping for air as his body warps. There's an awful CRUNCH and Donnie jolts, his cries turning into a breathless gargle when his plastron bows outward, new scutes wedging themselves into existence.

It's spreading faster now.

The belt at Donnie's waist snaps as his lithe frame widens, bulking up with muscle and mass. The elbow pad and glove on his left arm have split at the seams and the ones on his right are going to follow soon enough. His neck thickens, veins pulsing along its length and Donnie throws his head back, choking, eyes rolling in pain.

"Do something...!" Mikey whimpers and then grabs Raph's arm, shaking him, "Do something! Do something! Help him! Raph!"

But Raph doesn't know what to do. He can only stand there in cold terror as his brother's body is twisted. Raph looks at Leo but Leo is on his knees, clutching Donnie's wrist tech to his chest, sinking deep into shock as he watches what's happening. None of them know what to do. None of them know how to stop this.

Donnie's breathing has become deeper, heavier, huffing bellowing growls from the expanding cavity of his broad chest. His next scream comes out in a shaky roar. His tail clicks with new vertebrae as it lengthens, thickening and growing small spikes until its longer than Raph's tail. Donnie digs his feet into the cement, whining and snarling as bones and muscles bulge and grow. His knees break into a new shape with a sickening, wet SNAP that makes Raph feel sick, fresh joints jamming into place, toes growing bigger, claws scraping the floor.

There's a pause, a second where everything holds its breath, like the changes are settling into place. Donnie's normal face looks tiny on his hulking new body. Then comes a splintering crunch and Donnie howls in agony.

It's horrifying to watch his skull grow, pressing outward, stretching his bandana almost to its limits. The bridge of his goggles snap and tumble to the ground. Skin stretches, rippling over changing structures, and Donnie gags, coughing, and vomits onto the ground. His jaw crackles as it grows, his tongue lengthening and spilling out of his mouth while he pants for air. His gums begin to bleed and Donnie cries and wails as his teeth fall out, pushed out by the lethal set of jagged, predatory fangs he's sprouting.

Mikey is sobbing now, pressed against Raph's side because none of them can help, none of them can stop this. All they can do is watch.

Donnie collapses to the floor, wheezing, claws scrabbling and his tail lashing. His eyes roll wildly until he locks gazes with Raph. There's a second that lasts for hours where Raph looks into Donnie's eyes and sees his little brother begging for help, begging for Raph to stop the pain. Raph's heart is in pieces.

He's still making staring at Donnie when the light of intelligence flickers in his brother's eyes...and goes out.

And just like that, Donatello Hamato is gone.

The creature that's warped his body roars and thrashes on the ground, snapping its teeth and snarling. Spittle flies from its gnashing jaws and its tail is beating so hard against the floor that it vibrates like a bass drum.

"Don..." Leo's voice is a trembling whisper. He's in shock, just sitting on the floor, staring at what he twin has become.

Raph feels like he's floating off into a void; adrift, lost, and hopeless. The pieces of his shattered heart have dropped into his icy stomach and his body is far away, numb. It belongs to someone else, someone who can actually be a hero, someone who can save his brothers, someone who is a big brother.

Someone who isn't Raph, who can only stare at the creature that used to be Donnie as it rises shakily to its feet, towering over him.

And Raphael has never felt so small and useless.

--------

lil messy sketch of monster don so i could visualize him at least he got to keep his bandana :)

[grimreaperschild]

shower thoughts

summary: jenna comes home from a long day of filming and takes it out on you 🫶

warnings: smut, pain kink, degradation idk what else to put but mdni please

a/n: i wrote this while listening to arctic monkeys 😚 yeah smut under the cut i hope you enjoy- 🦷

———————————————————————

you’re curled up happily on the sofa watching mamma mia for the hundredth time when you hear your phone buzz, you reach over and scoop up the device eyes still trained on the screen your favourite song playing however you quickly forget about anything else taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you read the message from your lover “i want you on your knees when im home can your dumb little brain understand that?”

that’s how you find yourself on your knees infront of a very angry looking jenna “hey” anything else you could have said it cut off by her fingers in your mouth, you choke water springing to the corners of your eyes “oh are you already crying baby? cant even take my fingers in your mouth huh? your pathetic” you whimper, her words going straight to the heat coiling tight in your stomach. she removes her fingers wiping the spit on your cheek “on the bed” her eyes are dark, hard.

she ties your hands to the bedposts and slides her knee between your legs you let out a gasp and buck your hips at the contact “your so needy” her hand grabs your chin roughly pushing your head to the side giving her access to your neck she leans in licking from the base of your throat all the way behind your ear taking your earlobe in her teeth and biting down softly, you tug at your restraints as she sucks a line of dark hickys down the column of your breasts, her fingers find your nipples and she rolls them expertly making a breathy moan fall from your lips “jen baby, please i need you” her arms hook around your thighs holding your legs open as she chuckles “beg” you open your mouth then think better of it “baby i’ve been good” that was a mistake and you know it the second her eyes flick up to meet yours.

she’s up in a flash and rummaging through your top drawer oh. she secures the strap around her hips and takes a menacing step towards you, crawling onto the bed eyes never leaving yours she swipes a finger through your folds tutting “your so wet for me baby always so needy, all for me all mine” you nod your head feverishly “yours” you eco, she smiles at that slipping a finger into your heat, you let your head hit the pillow at the feeling of her inside you but the feeling is gone all too quickly as she pulls out and pops her finger in her mouth humming at the taste of you “don’t be so impatient” her tone is clipped again almost pained as she spreads your legs and settles herself between them you groan as you feel the head of her strap at your entrance she jerks her hips forward pushing all the way into you, a cry of pain tumbles from your lips at the action.

she gives you no time to recover as she pulls out and slams her hips back into you hand coming up to squeeze your throat setting a hard pace, your eyes roll back as she slams into you mouth falling open but no sound coming out she kisses you hard tongue slipping into your mouth exploring every crevice, you squeak as she hits just the right spot inside of you “oh fuck right there jenna please right there” her hips don’t falter as she listens to your pleas and it’s not long before your seeing stars and crying out her name.

she doesn’t relent as you cum and the sensitivity has a strangled moan ripping itself out of your throat, your definitely going to find a slip of paper pushed through your letterbox again asking you to please keep the noise down but right now with jenna grunting into your neck 1 hand secured in your hair the other keeping her up slightly so she can hit as deep as possible “i cant baby please i cant take anymore” a sharp crack could be heard across the room as her hand meets your cheek “your my toy, you understand? your done when i say your done” your eyes roll into the back of your head and your sure it pulls you closer to release “feel so good baby fuck gonna cum” you tug at your restrains again as the white hot rope in your stomach pulls tight, you all but scream her name as her teeth sink into your neck letting out an animalistic noise as she cums.

you whine when she eventually pulls out of you after catching her breath “my sweet girl” she presses a quick kiss to your lips and undoes the rope keeping your hands to the bedposts kissing each wrist delicately “let’s get you in the bath huh princess” you nod sleepily as she slips out of the strap holding your hand as you trudge to the bathroom she peppers kisses all along your nose and cheeks making you giggle “you did so good for me baby, your always so good” you smile “i love you jen” “i love you too pretty girl” a sense of comfort flows through you as you pick out what bath bomb your going to indulge in tonight

———————————————————���———

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.4<< >>Ch.6

Notes: He's only visiting to just check in to make sure you're not doing anything suspicious.

Also plz forgive my horrid Spanish, I failed it in high school (and still fail at it in life), and that good ol' English to Mexican-Spanish translation will be showing. But, I will be happy to have any advice/corrections.

Chapter 5: I'm No Good Without You

Word count: 2.3K

You scrambled around the living room, triple-checking if everything was in proper order. “Snacks, check, records, and record player? Check, check! Decently clean apartment?”

You scoured the place as it was virtually cluttered, yet with a satisfactory, homey sort of approach. “Check! Comfy clothes? Checkity check. I'm ready for tonight!”

Peering at the clock on the TV, it was nearly ten. Seven minutes away, to be exact. A perfect stretch to do another rapid once-over before he arrives. Then a knock screeches you to a full stop.

You twisted your head toward the TV and then over the door. He's ahead of schedule, but you were struck by his punctuality. Dusting your stretchy checkered pants, you skipped over and opened it.

“Oh, you look really nice.” You smiled, bending one knee to the next.

Miguel loomed over, wearing comfy jeans, a tight-fitted red shirt, and a black jacket to pull it together.

“Thank you, and you look lovely too.” Miguel stiffly strolled in and removed his casual dress shoes, propping them on a wooden shoe rack.

“Thanks, but this is more of my chill style, if you catch my drift. But come on, things are about the same as the last time you were here.”

Fiddling with some lint in your pocket, you clumsily shuffled past him and gestured towards the couch.

Taking a spot on the left side, his back refused to recline into the cushions, his face flashing that frigid hold.

You both were strained. Besides concealing behind screens and exchanging messages, being face-to-face was a new notion for you two. Especially with the previous incident involving him unintentionally sleeping over due to fortuitous drug consumption.

Then, in a well-endowed chat that descended into him frantically striding over your place, there certainly wasn't any affable history within reach.

“Did you have trouble finding your way around? Hungry?” Your mind rushed back to that morning. That polar atmosphere slithered its way right into the air, hovering.

“A pretty easy find. I remembered the route. Not specifying that I made a point to recall, the landscapes were familiar to me.” Miguel's strain refused to fade. “And I'm good, thank you.”

“No, no! I understand. My complex can be simple to spot. Especially with those overly deflated balloons they seem to not want to remove.”

You placed a veggie platter, water bottles, and some cut-up mini sandwiches on the coffee table just in case. 

“You noticed how there's some that have more float to them than others? Sometimes the people here like to tie some next to the floppy ones. I'm guilty of it too; I can't lie.” You chuckled, settling on the farther right of him, that middle gap in between. 

“Yeah, I noticed. I was going to ask you about that. Is it a sort of tradition in this community?”

“In a way. It's more of a ‘hey, I should do this because it's spontaneous and silly, and it's not hurting anyone.’ I try to make it a habit to clean up the ones that do find their way to the ground and toss them.”

Miguel gave a quick nod of understanding. Then instantly, that dead silence returned. Miguel's massive uneasiness fixed on his shoulders.

This was a bad idea. He should have declined the invite.

Abandoning his work? This was arbitrarily gut-speak. This moment, his gut somehow clambered through, striking any common sense inhabiting it.

You purse your lips into a thin line. You deduced his body language. It seemed like a good idea to have him over. You spoke pretty well when he allowed his guard to falter, and even your texts sparked volumes of personality. 

Those constraints he has strangled around are vastly keeping him from having a decent time.

“Would you like to look at the albums? They're in pretty tip-top shape after so many years.”

Before he could reply, you hobbled towards the shelf, grabbed them, and made your way back over. Gently sticking them on his lap, you decided to occupy the middle cushion.

Miguel glared at the records for a few seconds, seemingly fretting whether to even handle them.

“Hey, these are for you, remember? Go ahead; I'm sure you'll be careful with them.”

Your eyes met, and a diligent smile crossed your face as you gently patted his shoulder. He was certainly strung out, evident in his overly compressed muscles.

He turned his attention to the music, concealing the shaking anxiety that was battering him internally. Gleaning the Selena album in his unsheathed clawed hands, he flipped it back and forth.

“She has a very beautiful voice. I heard a few of her songs, but I'm willing to delve into more.”

He pulled the sleeve off the record, delicately removing it, his eyes glossing over with memories.

“My mother played her music every Saturday. I remember waking up to the sounds of clattering in the kitchen as she sang along.”

“Did she have a favorite?”

Miguel huffed out a noise that almost sounded like laughter. “Nunca hubo ninguno. All of them were her favorites. Whenever someone asked, she would pull this most offended face, cursing about how dare they make her choose only one.”

You snickered at that before grasping the record, heeding the fragile object. Sprinting over, you inserted it on the turntable, placing the needle on it. 

You refused to allow the silence to triumph between you two.

Selena's voice unrolled effortlessly through every corner of the apartment as you bumbled your way to your respective seat.

“I may have done some peeking into the tracks.”

“Oh?” Miguel finally managed to scoot back on the couch, though he was still a bit on alert.

“Just to make sure they weren't scratched. Tippity top shape, as stated previously.” You displayed the ‘okay’ gesture.

“Well, that's really good to hear. I don't want them messing up on me.”

“Don't worry, I got you! I would never bestow any materials that will fall from grace!” You dramatically slapped your hands over your heart, head propped high as if reciting some melodrama poetry.

Miguel returned it with a lopsided smile. “I'm trusting you did well.”

“My efforts haven't gone unnoticed! But what made you pick those three artists? Well, I can guess with the Selena one.” You huffed, swinging your legs on the couch, crossing them, elbows on your knees, and giving all your undivided attention to him.

“Just the first three that popped into my head. Well, besides Miss Selena,” he nonchalantly waved his hand. “I picked something that I think you may also appreciate.”

Miguel only spoke half the truth. He rehearsed lines and answers that he suspected you would pose on the venture here.

The full reason? He wished to share all of the music that he personally grew up with. To watch your reactions up close and in person.

And that's what was unnerving him. The uncertainty of this non-disclosure, undistinguished bond.

“Aw! How sweet of you! I personally know some Santana, and didn't Jorge Ben sing Mas Qué Nada?”

“Si. Considered a classic by many.”

“Ah-ha, I knew it!” You shimmied at your correct response.

You and Miguel didn't register how much time passed as a third of the veggies were eaten, and so were half of the sandwiches.

Your arm was perched on the sofa head as you shifted into your tunes, chilling to the fifth album you put on. Miguel rested his back fully into the comfy cushion, unwinding as his concentration was now focused on you. 

“Espere, Espere, hold on. They tried to do what?” Miguel chuckled.

“Yes, they tried to bargain a bicycle without the handle bars, the wheels, and the seat! Even the bell was missing, but the ringer managed to cling on for dear life.”

“So, what did you all do?”

“My boss Ronnie was ready to tear them a new one, but I managed to calm her. I negotiated with them, telling them if they can take apart all the pieces, then we'll find better uses for them.”

You dipped a carrot stick in the ranch. 

“So they did, and we managed to reach a compromise. We got rusty bicycle parts, and they were about fifty bucks. But here's the kicker.”

Miguel leaned in, oddly invested.

“Apparently, a piece from the bike was valued at seven thousand dollars. I can't recall which part, but I remember Ronnie freaking out. Now, she tried to hoard all the cash for the store, but I had her call the people who gave us the bike to get a cut from it.”

You placed your balled hand on the side of your cheek. “They turned that fifty into three thousand. I swore I could see the angels floating down as ‘Hallelujah’ sang from the heavens when they received that money!”

You spread your arms toward the sky as you both heartily laughed.

Miguel couldn't remember the last time he'd been so content. This is loose around somebody else.

Well, besides Gabriella, of course.

His eyes directly sank as his muscles began to taut from the crushing waves of paranoia, of the memories, and of the cruelty he faces.

“Hey, Miguel, are you okay?”

You warily made light feather touches with your fingertips on his upper arm, your eyes creasing with dismay at the instant change of behavior from him. He was a bit jostled. He whipped his head towards you, his extreme disorientation and attentiveness written all over his face.

That look. That concerned, considerate expression you showed.

“Why? Why?” That quivering dread in his voice, that sneaking dubiety of this situation.

“W-why?”

Just like the first time. The uncertainty of it all. Miguel despised it, but straying away wasn't an option for him.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you not…”

His heart raced, competing with his mind. His leg bounced in rapid spurts as he fought to retain composure. 

You held that docile, warming gaze.

“Why did you agree to have me over? Why did you invite me?” He calmly asked.

His voice deceived what his body and mind were truly undergoing. Purposely hiding that pang of bitterness. Of anxiety.

Stunned, you blink your eyes a few times.

“Oh! Well, I genuinely wanted to hang out with you. You are a good person, and I'd like to think I have some decency in picking up characteristics. Even though judging is wrong, I'm sure you understand what I mean.”

You drifted your right hand over his shaky knee, keeping it there until you were given any permission to put it there. Miguel studied your motion before reluctantly slowing down. You inched your way until your palm was settled on top.

“Miguel, do… Do you not receive many requests to hang out outside of your work? Does anyone ever check in just to check in?”

“I don't—no. Not really. I'm the leader. I'm not allowed to just go wherever I want.”

You nodded, whispering a faint okay underneath your breath as your hand rubbed his knee.

“So you're putting yourself on this level higher than others, that because you oversee everything, you're not allowed to do things normally many do.”

Miguel kept quiet as his eyes followed your fingers.

“But that isn't the case. You did choose to be here with me. You had to talk with someone to take a bit of a break to come here, right?”

His heavy brows lowered into a vacant, thinking stare.

“Huh. I-I guess I did do that.” His shoulders slumped.

“Mhm, and you've been here for nearly, um.” You peered at your phone, then back at him, “nearly two hours. Are you at least having a nice time? Am I being a decent hostess?”

A goofy grin plastered on you as he couldn't help but twitch his lips as they curled up.

“I mean, I think you're an alright hostess.”

“Hey, you're getting three albums from me! And you had some veggies and sandwiches, so I believe that warrants a push-up in the grading department.” You nudged him as he rolled his eyes, snorting at you.

“Alright, alright, you're absolutely correct. Hiciste un hospedaje increíble y un gran trabajo con todo. Llamaré a esto un éxito.”

You scrunch your face as you take a crack at figuring out what he said.

“I didn't even take Spanish; I took French. Uh, I heard the word incredible in there, so that's sufficient enough for me.”

Miguel momentarily eased up, that smile never fading. “Thank you for this pleasant night, missus.”

“Hey! None of that. Or I'll revert to calling you Mr. Miguel.” You poked at his muscular arm.

“Usually I can't stand that, but hearing it from you will be a very nice change of pace.”

You stuttered at that, briskly setting your hands between your thighs.

“So you can be smooth.” You muttered to yourself.

“Hm, what was that?”

“Oh nothing. Just saying how smooth this track is.” You motion at nothing in particular.

Miguel smirked impishly, highly aware of what was said. “So are you calling me the song?”

You whined, burying a pillow in your face, mortified that he clearly caught what you said as he sweetly taunted you about it.

One of the daunting strings snapped. 

One of the many strings imprisoning him from his own faith lies bleak.

Nearly one in the morning, with the three albums cradling in his forearm, Miguel took deliberate, meticulous strides back to the base. The nipping, chilled wind felt nice. Body warmer than when he arrived.

His mind went back to you. The goodbyes and courteous ‘thank yous,’ ‘we should do this again,’ chimed all over.

How that handshake turned into a comforting hug. For you, it was a friendly gesture; however, to him? To him, it was more.

He still sought to combat the sentiments resounding inside, but for this moment, for this period, he spared them. For this night and night only, those qualms can stay motionless. Tattered away in a distant, barren field.

Because of this night, the flame gathered the twinge of a single burning droplet.

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Twenty-Six

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, panic attack, stalking, online bullying, mental health issues.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

❗❗ author’s note: This chapter includes serious mental health situations in the past of a character, involving being unwillingly committed into a mental facility. Please beware of this potential trigger. Also, I am in no way a medical professional.❗❗

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

Thank You.

She was thanking him, what, Rick as happy as he was that she wasn’t mad at him, she was thanking him, again, for something he didn’t think he deserved. It pained him that she thought she had to thank him for this, thank him for trying to look out for her. Especially when, a moment ago, he thought she was going to destroy him for invading her privacy.

“Sweetheart, you don’t-”

But before he could tell her, again, like this morning, that she didn't have to thank her for treating her with human decency, something he should have done from the start. Chris was reaching for his shoulder to stop him, fingers gripping him with a light squeeze to get his attention and cutting him off.

"It's okay, JellyBean, it's okay.. We're here for you."

When Ricky looked up over her shoulder at him confused, Chris just shook his head, and that gesture just made the feeling even worse. He didn’t get it, what wasn’t he understanding here, was he so out of the loop that he was just missing something entirely? Chris seemed to take pity on him after a moment, especially when it didn’t seem like Talia wanted to let him go yet, wanting to give her a moment to just breath..

Grabbing his phone, quickly working his fingers over the keys, typing out a message, and Rick picked up his phone to silence his messages before it came through and alerted her, assuming that was why Chris sent the message instead of just talking. His phone vibrating when the notifications started coming through, he glanced down to the screen.

Chris: she’s been fucked over by almost everyone in her life Chris: realised she can trust you to have her back with this at least Chris: just let it happen

Looking up from his phone at Chris, letting his face go completely slack for a second, he had got to be kidding him, just let it happen? Really, that was his advice right now, how was that supposed to be helping him, at all? Chris, however, was just smirking, his face all kinds of amused at the pure look of nothing but incredulity on Ricky’s face.. And Ricky just glared at him for it before he felt his phone vibrate in his hand, Chris had sent more..

Chris: don’t be stubborn Chris: trust me

This time he just rolled his eyes, he’d fucked her over in so many other ways though.. And yet, this one thing, just this, the thought of hurting her like this, made him feel fucking sick. Another glance at Chris.. Trust him.. Shit.. he had been right before.. Dammit, okay. Setting his phone back down, his hand moving back to rub down her back.

“We’re here for you, Sweetheart, no matter what.”

So they found himself holding her much like they had been this morning, sitting on the couch. Talia between them, not wanting to let go of Rick, but seeming to enjoy the comfort of Chris because when he’d gone to sit back from her, she’d made a strangled noise into Ricky’s shoulder prompting the other man to glance back at his friend and Chris to move closer to the pair again.

Still, she was far calmer than she had been this morning and so it took a far smoother time than it had then.. And Chris was grateful. Not because of how long it took, but because he never wanted to see her in so much pain like that again. It was soul-destroying to see anyone in that much pain, let alone someone he cared about, and Chris cared about Talia, so much. She had a delightful spirit, and even if she wasn’t Ricky’s soulmate, she was still Ava’s best friend, her sister, and the beauty in her heart, it was just… he swallowed, glancing at Rick over her shoulder. Smiling to him slightly as Talia sat up straighter now. 

She shifted so she was no longer facing Ricky with her back to Chris, glancing to each of them on at a time,

“Maybe we should sit up at the table now, make this conversation easier to have, while we can look at each other more clearly?”

Chris raised his eyebrow, funny that she said it like that, considering while she was talking Talia was dead set on not looking at either of them, just staring down at her hands in front of her, twisting her fingers, avoiding both of them entirely. 

“If that’s what you want, JellyBean.”

He glanced to Ricky, and sure enough, the other nodded, seeming to agree with him. Whether her reasoning was valid, considering she was the one that appeared to be the most uncomfortable right now, if she wanted to move from the couch, then they moved from the couch. Sure enough, soon they were relocated sitting up at the dining table, so they could all see each other easily, just like Talia had suggested, even if her eyes were still a little downcast towards her hands, but it was a start.

Talia took a deep breath, twisting her fingers in front of her, going over in her head what she needed to tell them, but needing to figure out how..

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you Ricky, don’t stop me, I know your opinion on my apologies. Just listen okay.”

Looking across the table at him, he was the one that had the most trouble with her apologising, she knew Chris told her she didn’t have to, but scolding her, and making her tell him off, he’d never gone that far!

“This is going to be hard enough for me to get out, so I need you to just listen, please?”

She took in a shuddering breath when he seemed to nod in agreement, and she smiled, nodding back, grateful that he was willing to accept that she wanted to do this her way this time.

“When I told Ava, Kyle and Jordan that my father tried to commit me, for a short time.. For a short time, he succeeded. Well, six months.”

“Six Months?!”

It wasn’t Ricky who burst out in surprise, and Talia glanced over at Chris who had been the one to speak up right then, only to see Ricky reach out to press a hand to his arm, seemingly as a means of comfort.

“How did Ava and the others not notice anything? I’m sorry, if my best friend disappeared for six months, I’d damn well notice.”

Talia smiled softly, he was so passionate about protecting those he loved and seeing Ricky press his hand tighter against his arm, holding onto him, showing how much he cared for Chris there, she nodded a bit to herself. He might seem so very difficult to deal with, but it was obvious that he had a softer side in there, somewhere.

“Um, well, we were in college, and my family took ski trips to Europe every year. I always hated it, its lavish, and pointless because I couldn’t bring any of my friends, family only and all of that. Usually its only about two months, but that year, instead of leaving for Europe, my parents intervened on my part of the trip.. And as far as my friends were aware, I was off having a wonderful love affair with the gorgeous sights and beauty that is Europe..”

Swallowing, she took in a deep breath,

“And you never thought to correct them.”

When she looked towards Ricky at his question.. She paused, words caught in her thought..

“It took me six months to get out of the facility, six months of being convinced I wasn’t your soulmate.. Six months of therapy and conditioning in how to live a more open and free life.. It was so painful, because the worst part was that, you see, there comes a point.. Where you start to believe it. You start to wonder, would you really be in there with all these people, these people with delusions, if you don’t have delusions either? Would a sane person really be stuck in there?”

Shuddering, she just shook her head for a moment, needing a second to just soothe herself,

“Once I was out, and I moved into Ava’s apartment before my parents could stop me, Ava was too excited to see me to ask why.. Sometimes I wonder if maybe she at least suspects the truth, or something like it, but I don’t dare say it out loud for fear of triggering something, like... like yesterday.”

Her eyes shifted back down to her hands, considering how Ava had pushed for dinner, but then backed off, she wasn’t sure either way anymore whether she thought Ava knew or not.. Maybe she didn’t, maybe thinking she knew was more wishful thinking in the hopes someone, anyone had noticed something had changed her. Of course, there were some people that knew, but the problem was the three friends who knew her well enough, had been excised from her life during the process, and fed so many lies, the web her family had woven, and Talia so easily continued rather than think about the pain after the fact.

“So when you, Ricky started talking about finding out about what was going on about the tattoo, I flashed back, I had been considering talking to my father about the people in the facility thinking the sensations were connected to my claimed delusions and for a moment, I thought I should tell you about talking to them. The moment I thought that I started spiralling, and after that, I just kept slipping further and further the more I tried to come back from the initial kick in the metaphorical gut.”

She took a deep breath now, not looking up from her hands as she talked about her episode that morning, still feeling so drained despite her nap during the afternoon.

“While that admittedly isn’t the start of my trauma, the nuke that dropped, as it were.”

Rick, all he wanted was to move around the table and wrap her up in his arms, but knowing that touching her was a dangerous game right now. Yes, the hugs on the couch had been fine, but that had been while she had been in tears, or near tears, and now she was neither. He did however reach across the table and rest his hand over hers that was clasped in front of her on the table.

When she looked up from her hands, he could almost feel the way her breath caught, and the shock of the sting of his tattoo was of little surprise this time when her wide eyes met his.

“It’s alright Talia, I promise, whether we’re together or not, I won’t let you have to go through any of this alone again.”

Chris looked between the pair,

“Would it help, if I could confirm, that you two are, without an absolute doubt, soulmates.. Because doctor's false diagnosing, parents' stupidity, and fake tattoos, it can all happen, but this effect from your tattoos can’t be faked right here, and you two are struggling with it something awful..”

Chris half cringed at the look Ricky gave him then,

“You knew?!”

“I suspected. I still can only suspect really, there is no proof for this kind of thing. It’s only theoretical, the theory, is that it's a trauma response for soulmates. Your soul bond has responded to both of your suffering, once you met, it must have triggered something, and now it's gone into massive overdrive.. Theoretically, it’ll calm down once the bond has formed naturally.”

And before Talia telling them what she’d gone through, he had no idea her side of it.

“Theoretically?”

He cringed again when Talia asked softly,

“I don’t know anything for certain, JellyBean.. I only know the theory, I have read everything I can get my hands on about the bond between soulmates, ever since.. Well..”

“Ever since when?”

He sighed as he looked at her, now it was his turn for a bit of a confession, wasn’t it? Glancing at Ricky, he knew the story, but Talia didn’t, and it wasn’t an easy one to tell. He supposed she might know of some of it as a fan, but a lot of it was missing, a lot of it never got out, thankfully.

“From my own time being committed.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics (roses) & @cafekitsune (trigger)

[sombrashe]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆kinktober 2024⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

𓉸ྀི sex over the phone

𓉸ྀི Adam Faulkner-Stanheight

𓉸ྀི content afab!reader, chubby!reader, phone sex, fingering, nudes

Your phone clicks as you type out a message. The number four is clicked three times. Space. Then six is clicked once. Four, three times again. Seven is pressed four times, twice. Space. Finally, eight is pressed twice. While you wait for a response, you decide to start getting ready for bed. All your normal activities are done long before he messages back. You're lying in bed feeling yourself slip into the warm embrace of sleep when blink-182 fills your room. Blinking, you reach over and grab your phone off the stand. Flipping it open you're met with a blurry picture. Feeling heat rise to your cheeks, you click it open. Staring at it for a moment you reach under your covers to cup at your tit. You're startled by a display name covering your screen but you recover quickly and click on the call. Pressing the phone to your ear you hear your boyfriend's voice tickle your ear.

"Yo, dude, did you get my pic?"

"Kinda, it's blurry."

"Damn, really? Hang on."

With that, he hangs up. You tap your nails across the back of your phone as you wait. It takes a bit longer than you want it to and you start to get tired again. Before you've relaxed enough to say fuck it and go to sleep music fills the air. Looking through your messages you happily click open the newest photo. This time his cock is crystal clear, the slight haze over the photo doesn't take away from the beauty of it. Biting your lip you try to commit it to memory before he's calling again.

"How was this one?"

"A lot better."

"Perfect. Are you touching yourself?"

You let out a laugh. He's the exact opposite of smooth and instead stays somewhere in the raunchy department. After your little giggle fest dies down you finally answer with a simple, duh. You can practically feel his grin on the other side of the call.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing with my nipple, you?"

"Stroking my dick."

You roll your eyes. He always has to be doing the most. You gently pull and rub at your nipple, slowly getting yourself worked up. The image of his cock hard in his hand rests heavily on your mind the entire time. Once you feel all too sensitive you move your hand further. Dragging it down over the exposed skin of your stomach, you reach the hem of your underwear. Some random pair you grabbed out of your drawer that you can't even remember what they look like.

"What are you wearing?"

"Underwear."

"And?"

"Nothing, just underwear."

"Let me see."

He hangs up again. No, please? Grumbling you kick off your covers and snap two photos of your body. One with your tits on full display and one displaying your ass clad in dark underwear. Clicking the photos through you give him a few minutes before you decide to call him again. You're met with a low groan and faint wet sounds. Biting your lip you cover yourself back up before shoving a hand down your front. Circling your clit you eagerly drink in his sounds. Whine and grunts as she asks you to describe what you're doing. You agree only if he does the same. Panting you shove two fingers inside of you with a happy sigh. Pumping them in and out of you, you make sure to make enough noise for him to hear. Something to help him get off on.

"You're so hot."

You gasp as the heel of your hand presses into your sensitive bud. You were getting so close, and listening to him try and dirty talk through the pleasure only added to it all. He says something particularly nasty about how he wishes he was there so he could cum in you and you feel the coil in your abdomen snap. Letting out a sharp cry you soak your fingers, squeezing your legs together you slightly hump the air as you come down from your high. Listening to you cum must have helped him because soon after his voice is coming out in a strangled groan. Both of you pant into each other's ear for a few moments before speaking.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Totally."

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist | Other Characters Masterlist

[rubyreduji]

[minors dni] [cw: phone sex, sending nudes, guided masturbation, light pet play]

"soooo...." you call through the phone "do you like my present?"

junhui is about to nut in his pants

pulled up on his phone screen is a photoset that you had just sent him. the photos feature you in an erotic set of pink lingerie that accent everything

there's silky straps that sits against your skin and lace that he can see your nipples peaking out from behind

the look is topped off with a set of cat ears and a matching collar and tail that makes jun's head go blank and his mouth water. he doesn't think he's ever wanted you do badly in his life

"baby these are..." jun can't find his words, his brain clouded with lust

you giggle through the phone reciever "i'm glad you like them. i thought i'd send you something nice since we can't be together for valentine's day and i figured these would be nicer than chocolates"

"you're killing me here y/n" jun groans

"oh? want to tell me more?"

"i think i'm going to die from how hard i am right now" jun whines a bit

"that's so hot" you purr "...can i see?"

jun is quick to turn his video on so you can see his face, you do the same. you're sitting on you bed, staring at the screen with a sultry gaze. jun is lucky you caught him at an off time as he lays in bed as well, his cock hard and straining in his pants

he turns his camera so it's pointing at his lap before he pushes his pants down, his boxers go with, his cock springing free. he can hear you moan a bit which turns him on even more

"mmm baby look at you, so hard just for me" you coo "can you pretend it's me there, touching you"

"y-yes" jun mutters

"your cock is so big, i wish i could taste it. go ahead and touch yourself baby, stroke your cock"

jun reaches down and grasps his cock. he thinks about what you do when you touch him, the way you take your time teasing him, getting him even more worked up

he bites down on his lower lip as he trails his finger over the underside of his cock before swiping his thumb over his sensistive tip

"that's such a good boy, yeah just like that" you encourage jun as he gently grips his cock and starts to slowly pump his hand up and down "go slow, we're in no hurry here baby"

jun lets out a strangled moan as he bucks his hips up into his fist. he misses you so much, and he misses you more now that you can't help him while he's so worked up. he continues to imagine you're there in front of him, working his cock in your hands as you press kisses to his hipbone and suck on his balls

his free hand wanders down to cup his balls and he massages them softly in his palm. the hand on his cock traces around the head of his cock and he starts to leak precum

"baby look at me" jun doesn't even realize his eyes were closed until you speak up

jun opens his eyes and glances at his phone and he nearly shoots his load right there. sitting on the other side of the screen you've stripped down to just your panties, your tits already out in the open. you have the cat ears and tail back on, the collar sitting snug around your neck

you're in a pair of red lace panties and when you spread your legs, jun can see your slick cunt on display for him. holy shit you're wearing crotchless panties for him

"fuck, kitten, holy shit," jun whines "you look so pretty. fuck you did this all for me?"

"all for you junnie, you deserve it"

jun is about to respond but his voice falters when you reach down to start playing with your clit. he watches your fingers slowly rub at the bud and you let out a slow, deep moan that has jun's heartrate speeding up

jun can't keep his eyes off of you as you continue to touch yourself, wishing he was there to play with you instead. if he was with you right now he would eat you out for hours, never stopping until you've came at least five times

you'd be exhausted, your body shaking and overstimulated, as he presses kisses against your warm skin and leaves love bites on your thighs

the things jun would do right now to be squished between your thights, suffocating himself while giving you head. as he thinks about it, jun's hand speeds up its pace as it pumps at his cock

"kitten please, you look so good. thank you, thank you. fuck my pretty girl. my perfect girlfriend" jun knows he's babbling nonsense right now, but he doesn't care, he's too focused on you and the way your fingers keep disappearing into your dripping pussy as you finger yourself

your other than reaches up to flick at your nipples and jun wishes he could put his mouth on them, sucking and licking and nipping until you're a withering mess under him

"aww baby you're such a mess right now" you tease "you know how you can thank me?"

"i'll do anything for you kitten, promise"

"cum for me, and make it loud"

that's an easy request for jun, who's worked himself up to completion. he thrusts up into his fist two more times before he whimpers and groans loudly, just the way you like it. his hips stutter as he spurts his cum all over his hand and thighs. his squeezes his cock tight, milking all of his seed out of him

his eyes are droopy as he looks at his phone. on the otherside of the phone you're orgasming yourself, your thighs shaking as you let out short, hight pitched moans. your fingers are quickly rubbing your clit as your pussy spasms

jun licks his lips a bit at the sight, watching as you flop back onto the bed when you're finished

"fuck, that was so hot" you say "we should do that more often"

"yeah, yeah we should" jun's still out of breath as he responds

"mmm, i have to go soon, but i hope you enjoyed your gift"

"i enjoyed it a lot, really, probably too much" jun knows for a fact as soon as you hang up the call he's going to jack off again, this time looking at the pictures. he thinks you know that though

you prove that you do know that as you say goodbye "i'll end the call here, but if you decide you want to enjoy my gift more later, send me vids" you wink at the camera and with that you hang out

jun waves bye and as soon as your video closes he moves over to your texts to pull the photos back up, his cock already twitching back to life

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[multiwreckedmess]

Oral Assistance

Summary: Desk buddy with your boyfriend Yeosang Pairing: Yeosang x gn!reader (no pronouns/terms of endearment used) WC: 1,250~ (h-how?) CW: Smut, no plot. As always specific TW are under the cut

AN: Omg the oral series rides again! Yeosang brainrot strong. Gaming brainrot strong. Once again, not edited, purely indulgent, meant to be just for fun for me to get over being a perfectionist and just get work out there. Sorry for grammar/spelling mistakes. Check out my masterlist for more of this series or for more polished works!

TW: Slight voyeurism, slight corruption??? Maybe?? SLIGHTLY sub!Yeosang. Prior established relationship. Please do not do this without the expressed consent of the parties who may overhear. IDK as this is not a particular kink for me but in all sexual acts consent is EXTREMELY important. This is a work of fiction, not a guide for how things should be handled.

“Excu-wait-what are you doing?” Yeosang stutters, blush creeping up his neck as he struggles to maintain focus on his game. Your hand rests on his crotch, casually cupping him in his boxers. Giving him your best doe eyes you reply, “nothing.” “One sec guys!” He calls before lifting the arm of his mic. His eyes remain glued to the screen in front of him as he steals glances at you, forefinger clicking away. “I’m in the middle of a game,” he gulps. You can feel him stirring in your palm. “Okay? I don’t mind,” you let the tips of your fingers graze him over his boxers, “that is, if you don’t mind?” His cock twitches expectantly. It’s hard to contain your smile.  “Yes! No. I don’t mind. I mean I’d like it very much. Yes. I want.” Stumbling cutely through his thoughts, his biceps tense and teeth grit as his avatar is pulled into the center of a very violent mauling from the enemy team. As suddenly as they attack its over, his screen goes grey and he flexes his fingers. Leading his head back the noise that comes from him starts as a frustrated groan and morphs into a delicious half moan half growl as his lids flutter shut. “You sound so pretty my Yeosang. Even when you’re upset.” His cheeks flush at the compliment, head angling away from you, embarrassed, his little heart-shaped birthmark highlighted perfectly. Eyes closed with his hair splayed out on his headrest his jaw looks impossibly sharp, cheekbones chiseled. Truely a living statue. With a small smile he gestures his chin at you expectedly, pursing his lips into a shy kiss which you indulge with a soft peck.

Close to his headphones that you can hear he is still in voice chat, muted, but able to hear his teammates bantering and the timer counting down his imminent respawn. With a wicked grin you slide between him and his computer, butt scooted back on his knees and chest leaning close so he can see over you. “YEOSANG! EARTH TO YEOSANG!” You hear someone shout, “Yer up mate!” The tips of your fingers graze over the skin just above the elastic of his waistband, reading the pattern of ridges and veins that lead you down below the belt. Opting to nuzzle into the side of Yeosangs neck. “I love you so much, Yeo.” He barely chokes back a moan as your fingers trace the veins on his member. Throbbing and fattening up in your hand Yeosang bravely lowers his mic to his mouth. “Hey guys I think-I think I have a migraine coming on...” he fumbles awkwardly through his excuse. A chorus of boos coming over the voice chat. “I can finish out this round...but...” he tries to placate them, still frantically clicking on the screen to direct his avatar as you play with him. It really doesn’t take much to get him going, your soft hands making their way up and down, nails just barely grazing his shaft, it’s enough to ruin his actions per minute in a real way. Not to mention the semi strangled position he has to put himself in to reach the mouse and keyboard. Putting a finger to your lips and winking you slide off of him, disappearing to the dark under the desk. In turn he scoots to the very end of his gaming chair and locks it from tipping backwards. The band of his sweatpants easily slips down enough to tug his cock over it. Restricted by the table top hovering ominously above you, you improvise, taking just the tip into your mouth with your head on his thigh, letting your hand work the unattended area of his shaft. Yeosangs eyes roll back, his teams tight formation slipping as he strains to take a peek down at exactly what you are doing to him. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING me dude?! oh shit-Yeosang, shit-sorry-your migraine-” an explosion of expletives over comms as a teammate is picked off by the enemy team. “Shit, shit, fuuu- so sorry guys-” Yeosang tries to disguise his moans as pangs of pain. He hopes that the noise filter works in his favor for once, hiding the occasional quick slips of groans that manage to escape. You hum and swirl your tongue around the head, a move you know is sure to get a vocalization from him. The bang of his fist against the table top is enough to make you giggle as you continue to tease him.  Yeosang is playing his absolute worst and still the teams are tied neck and neck. Frankly at this point he doesn’t really care who wins or loses just that the game ends quickly so that he can rip off his headset and fully enjoy himself. He can barely move his mouse effectively, misclicking several items and ruining his meta. “Whatever,” he thinks, “just blame it on vision spots or something.” Meanwhile his team is requesting a draw from the other players, who repeatedly deny it. “Guys I just-I just don’t know that i can do this-so sorry-gonna-have to take-deserters-” he can barely hold it together between words. Thighs shaking his cock is impossibly heavy with need, leaking salty precum with every lick, swirl and pop of your lips. “Triple-kill.” The glossy robotic voice announces over the headphones. The penalty this time is 1.5 minutes of waiting, unable to fight back against the enemy team. For once instead of hyper focusing and strategizing Yeosang slams his mic up to mute himself and jets away from his desk. You crawl after him, undignified on your hands and knees. “I need to cum please pleasee please-” he pants broken pleas until he’s red in the face. Smiling you finally take him all the way into your mouth, his hips thrusting in short erratic bursts. The sight was everything he’d be unable to fight back to focus on the game. Your eager eyes peering up at him, happily sucking at his swollen cock. Absolutely lewd slurps and gulps coming from your ministrations. The swirling shame and excitement of doing something so risky and taboo mixing in the pit of his stomach. Short explosions of breathy moans follow in time with his hips, unable to push past the tight ring at the back of your mouth. It would be easier if he’d just grab the back of your head to push you just that centimeter more but you knew at least for now he wouldn’t dream of it. Instead you make due, grabbing his clothed ass and forcing your head down the rest of the way, nose flush with his pubic bone. Yeosang sounds just as sweet when he climaxes, normally bassy voice hitting a high strangled gasp. His knuckles whiten as he pushes off the seat of his chair, cock pulsing streams of hot cum down the back of your throat. You eagerly gulp it down, the tense and release of your muscle milking the remininents before releasing him with wet pop.

“DUDE WHAT THE FUCK?” “Hope that shit was worth it bro- I swear to god if we rank-” “-damn it SOUNDED worth it though-” “-no wonder he’s sat at base-” “MY GUUUUYYYYY GET IT YEO!” In his haste the arm of the mic had caught the usb charger and not fully docked in the upright, muted position. The pressure of the bent usb cable slowly working the mic back open, Yeosang would have a lot of explaining to do.