#and somehow. somehow they made it thank god

[harryslittlefreakk]

the one

summary: y/n runs into the last person she ever expected to see in the last place she ever expected to see him, bringing old feelings & hurt to the surface. based on the prompt: childhood friends to lovers

warnings: light angst, made up town, CHEESY writing, smut that’s more making love than fucking

wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: hi guys 💘 long time no see!!! GO EASY on me im rusty!!!

masterlist

The heavy wooden door creaked as it swung shut behind you, sealing out the bitter November wind with a low groan. Inside, the warm glow of amber lights bathed the room, casting long shadows over the oak bar and a few worn leather stools scattered around it. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and a faint hint of wood smoke. A couple of locals sat quietly at a table near the back, their low voices blending with the soft hum of an old jukebox playing a slow, bluesy tune.

“Thank God,” you muttered, the day’s tension melting from your face as the warm air settled around you. You let your head roll back, savoring the first reprieve from the cold. The chill that had reddened your cheeks and numbed your fingers slowly eased, the warmth brushing over your skin.

Winter was settling into Windermere, and you’d never gotten used to it. Your parents found a strange charm in the grey skies and biting winds, bundling up and going about their routines. But for you, it felt suffocating. Each year, November swept in like an unwelcome guest, forcing the town to become even smaller, with people huddled indoors, glancing suspiciously at anyone passing by.

The town seemed cloaked in silence, broken only by the crackle of fires and the crunch of frozen leaves underfoot. It was a season that left no room for secrets, not when every movement was magnified in the stillness. With everyone tucked away, the chances of slipping by unnoticed were slim, forcing your teenage rebellion to thrive in only the rarest pockets of solitude, under the cover of long, dark nights.

“Please, just something hot,” you said, voice weary as you rubbed your hands together, trying to coax warmth back into them.

The bartender eyed you for a moment, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he planted his hands on the bar.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you,” he mused, reaching down to grab another glass.

Your head snapped up so quickly that your neck clicked, and you rubbed the sore spot as a frown knit your brow. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. He was older, scruffier, and somehow more devastatingly handsome than the last time you’d seen him. You blinked a few times, half-expecting him to be some kind of apparition conjured by the cold. But he was real. Your Harry was really standing in front of you, in the last place you’d ever thought you’d find him.

“I didn’t- I tried to find you,” you stammered, your voice catching as your gaze drifted over him.

He was taller now, his once-wild curls a little more tamed. Those same green eyes that seemed to cut straight through into your soul. His sweater clung just enough to his arms to hint at the strength beneath, and tattoos traced up both arms in intricate, dark patterns, curling from his wrists to disappear under the fabric, each one telling a story of the years he'd spent without you.

The decade you’d missed was written across him in lines and ink, yet somehow, seeing him now made you feel like that eighteen-year-old again, waiting for her best friend to realize he loved her too.

“If you’d looked hard enough, you would have,” Harry muttered, his eyes trailing over your face, taking in the flush of cold still lingering on your cheeks. Your lips pressed into a tight line as you dropped your gaze to the worn wood of the bar. You couldn’t tell him that you hadn’t found him because you hadn’t wanted to.

He was a reminder of a version of yourself you’d left behind - a girl who thought she had to earn love instead of knowing she deserved it.

He stood there, still holding the empty glass, his gaze traveling over every inch of you he could see. His eyes lingered on your hands for a moment, his expression hardening before he turned away.

Even through his sweater, you could see his back muscles tense, a reminder of just how much had changed. The unmistakable clink of ice hitting glass sent an involuntary chill down your spine, though you blamed it on the cold draft from the door. But deep down, you knew it was Harry’s presence that stirred something old and haunting within you.

He turned back to you after a few minutes, setting a mug of hot cocoa down in front of you. His hand was steady, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders as he slid the glass toward you.

"Exactly how we used to have it. On the house," he said, voice low, eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to a spot just over your shoulder. You hesitated, your fingers wrapping around the glass, the warmth dancing across your skin.

“Christ. Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip. The burn of whiskey flooded your throat, a welcome contrast to the chill that had settled deep in your bones.

He still didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what you’d been doing all these years. Didn’t ask why you’d come back. There was a time when you were sure he’d have asked, a time when he would have read every expression, every flicker in your eyes as easily as a page in a book. But now, the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, woven from years of things left unsaid.

"Heard you were getting married,” Harry said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear. The words were hesitant, almost vulnerable, but his eyes had a guarded edge, as if they were holding back an ocean of questions. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, almost as if to steady himself.

“Not anymore,” you told him with a soft shake of your head, your voice barely carrying over the soft hum of the jukebox. You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over him, noting the subtle lines at the corners of his eyes, the quiet weight he seemed to carry now, like shadows that hadn’t been there before. He was still Harry - but this version of him was one you didn’t know. Or maybe it was you who didn’t know herself anymore.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t know you stayed here, Harry.”

It was true. You didn’t know anything about him. You’d never asked your parents, though they would definitely be privy to what was going on in his life. They knew that whatever had or hadn’t happened between the two of you had contributed to the way you left, so they had made no attempt to keep you updated.

“I didn’t. Came back for my grandma’s funeral and the pub was about to be sold to a chain but no one could afford to take it on. So I did,” he shrugged, his eyes dropping to his feet as he spoke.

You sat back a little, memories of afternoons spent at this very pub flooding your mind. Trying to sneak notes out of the tip jar, Harry coercing his grandma to pass you both shots. “She loved it here,” you whispered, a soft smile on your lips as you traced a finger along the bar. “I had no idea she passed Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“Forty years of her life behind this bar,” Harry nodded solemnly, his jaw tense. “I couldn’t let it go.”

There was a glimmer of the Harry you knew when he said that. It was the part of him that first drew you in. He was cheeky, stubborn, but his loyalty to his family was unmatched. Beneath the external rebellion, he was sentimental and kind, the first to fiercely defend any of his loved ones, the last to leave one behind.

You had no idea how you’d ended up so disconnected from him. You’d only spent five minutes in his presence, but it felt like the first five minutes you’d ever spent with him.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The silence was loaded, more meaningful than any small talk you could have tried to fill it with. It felt as though one wrong word would break whatever fragile truce had settled between you.

Finally, Harry sighed, leaning his forearms against the bar, hands fidgeting with a bottle cap, rolling it over and over between his fingers.

“You left,” he said softly, as if the words themselves had been weighing him down. “And I waited, you know? For a while. I thought you’d come back. And then, when you didn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

There was a long pause, each word sinking heavily in the quiet room, reverberating through you. You felt a pang of guilt - maybe shame - at hearing his side of it laid bare, the rawness in his voice making it hard to breathe.

“I didn’t know how to exist here,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt flimsy, inadequate, but they were all you had. “I needed to figure out how to do it on my own.”

“And did you?” he asked, something sharp and almost accusing in his tone.

You hesitated, because you weren’t sure how to answer that. Had you? The years had passed, but you weren’t sure you’d changed as much as you thought you would. You’d found your independence, learned to stand on your own - but there was still a part of you that had never let him go, that had held onto the version of Harry you’d left behind.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, the words tasting bitter. “I thought being back here would answer that for me.”

You turned away from him, your heart pounding as you glanced around the pub, taking it in. “It’s changed a lot in here,” you mumbled, never feeling less at home than you did in that moment.

“The whole town has changed.” Harry shrugged, his jaw tense as his eyes followed yours.

The atmosphere had shifted when you turned back to face him, an unmistakable tension settling between you. Harry’s gaze was hard, guarded and defensive, like he was bracing himself against something.

“That’s not a good reason to leave.”

“What?”

“That’s not a good reason to leave,” he repeated, arms folding over his chest. “Are you staying?”

“For now.”

“You hurt a lot of people,” he continued, his tone harsh, bitterness dripping from each word.

“I spent my entire teenage years thinking about everyone else. Selfishness isn’t a crime,” you shot back, pushing your empty mug towards him.

“It’s not. But that doesn’t stop it hurting people.”

You narrowed your eyes, leaning your forearms against the bar. “People, or you?”

Harry looked past you at the last patrons filing out, circling around the bar to see them out and lock the door behind them. The silence was thick, stretching through the distance between you.

“People,” he answered finally, those green eyes not quite meeting yours. How had it gotten to a point where you openly lied to each other? A tiny part of you thought that if you ever crossed paths again, you’d fall into your old routine, Harry with the cheeky grin and bad ideas, you with the doe eyes and willingness to follow his every move.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” you mumbled, pushing yourself off the stool.

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Harry stalked back to the bar, a heavy hand slamming a bottle of whiskey down in front of you. “Have a drink with me, and tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”

You swallowed hard, your body tensing as he sat down next to you. “The truth?”

“Whatever was so bad that you had to leave without even saying goodbye.” His eyes were dark as you looked up at him, his fingers drumming against the bar.

“It’s not even important anymore,” you sighed, feeling the lie settle heavy in your chest. You took a swig of the whiskey, shivering as the heat slipped down your throat, trying to steady yourself. But he was watching you too closely, reading you like an open book. Before you could react, he tugged the bottle from your hands, his chin dropping to his chest.

"Pull the other one," he said, voice low. "Whatever happened kept you away for a decade. Did someone hurt you?"

You almost laughed, bitter and tired. He was looking at you now, his gaze sharp and searching, like he was ready to drag the truth out of you no matter what it cost. But you were lost in your own head, your eyes tracing the tattoos winding down his forearms, lingering on the familiar lines and symbols. He was exactly the man you had always imagined he’d become - steady, solid, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But you had never expected to see it like this, up close, with your own eyes.

You reached for the whiskey, snatching it back from him and knocking it back with a grimace. “It was you, Harry.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and unguarded. “Fuck. I realized I’d put my whole life on hold, waiting for you to notice me.”

He froze, his hand suspended in the air, and for a second, there was no sound but the creak of the barstool as he shifted, the slow tick of the clock on the wall. He scratched his head, his eyes falling shut as your words sank in. You could see him wrestling with it, with everything that had been left unsaid all these years.

“And running away was better than just telling me?” His voice was softer now, hurt creeping into the edges, and it made something twist painfully in your chest.

You shook your head, feeling a thousand things you could never say. “How was I supposed to tell you? Hi, Harry, my good friend, I love you, and I’m about to devote my life to you.”

“Something like that,” he muttered, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slumping as he finally met your eyes. The silence stretched again, thick with years of missed chances and the weight of what could’ve been.

You both sat there, lost in the quiet. It felt fragile, this moment, like the whole world could split open with one wrong word.

“It wasn’t just that,” you muttered, watching your feet swinging under the stool. “I couldn’t exist here anymore. It gets to a point where it’s suffocating.”

“But you really couldn’t just tell me?”

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks, your face hot with the blush that spread across your skin. His dark eyes held you, unblinking, and the weight of everything unspoken made your heart pound. He leaned forward, the faintest crease appearing between his brows, as if he was bracing himself for something he’d waited too long to hear. You tried to look away, tried to hide the vulnerability in your expression, but his gaze was unrelenting, drawing the words out of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” you said, voice tight with restraint. You tried to keep your tone casual, but you could feel the way it trembled, betraying you.

“Why?” he asked, leaning closer, his face serious. His jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration in his eyes that he tried to temper. It was like he already knew what you were going to say, yet he needed to hear it from you, needed confirmation for the ache that had been buried under years of silence.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself. “It’s embarrassing, H.” Your eyes darted away, unable to face the intensity of his gaze. “I changed my whole life because of a crush. I moved somewhere where no one knew me because I was scared of everyone here knowing me too well. I got engaged to the first man I properly loved, and he still didn’t match up to you.”

Harry’s face softened, but he looked pained, his lips parting as though to speak. The vulnerability in his expression was raw, his shoulders stiffened with all the things he had wanted to say, to ask. But when he reached for you, you placed a hand over his, silencing him for a little while longer.

“I thought about you every day for ten years,” you said, feeling the words tear from your throat, your eyes bright with unspilled tears. “And now we’re just sitting here like strangers. Do you get that?”

He let out a bitter laugh, a rough, quiet sound that cut through the stillness. He leaned forward, elbows braced against the bar as if he needed the support to hold himself together. “Do I get it?” he repeated, his voice low and raw, his brows drawn in with years of buried pain. “I’ve lived the same ten years as you, except I didn’t get the privilege of knowing where the fuck you went or why.”

He looked down at your hand over his, and his fingers slowly closed around yours, his grip warm and strong. He was still, tension held tight in the curve of his shoulders, in the soft way his thumb brushed against the back of your hand, as if afraid the moment might slip away. He shifted closer, the space between you shrinking, and his other hand rose slowly to your face, cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered, breath catching in your throat. You could feel your pulse quicken, every nerve alight with the nearness of him, with the intensity in his eyes, softening into something tender, something hesitant and aching.

“What I should’ve done years ago,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in, his eyes searching yours until the last second, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop him. But you didn’t. His lips met yours, hesitant and gentle, as though he were savoring every second, every taste. You could feel him melt into the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The moment you kissed him back, he exhaled against you, letting go of some tightly held breath, and the kiss deepened, grew more urgent. His hands moved down to your waist, strong and steady, pulling you closer against him. You could feel the heat between you, the years of longing pouring into this single kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his breaths came rough and shallow. Without a word, he tugged his sweater over his head, baring his skin, the tattoos winding over his chest and arms like stories you’d never gotten to read. Your fingers traced along them, the tip of your nail gliding over the ink, and you could feel his pulse quicken under your touch.

He smiled faintly, but his expression grew serious again as he leaned down, brushing his lips along the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His arms wrapped around you, his hands sliding down to your hips, lifting you up onto the bar with ease. You gasped softly, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist as he tugged your skirt up, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

In that moment, you were no longer strangers. His face softened, his eyes warm and almost reverent as he looked at you, a quiet promise in his touch that maybe, finally, there was nothing left between you but the truth.

Harry’s mouth found your inner thigh, his teeth clamping down on the sensitive skin. “That’s for leaving me behind,” he murmured, his breath warm against the sting. He moved to the other one, his teeth nipping at you for a second time. “And that’s for making me wait a fucking decade.”

Your breath comes out in shallow moans, your hands planted on his shoulders. That damn butterfly tattoo, the one he’d always told you he would get, almost taking flight as he pants against you, his eyes darkened with lust.

He leaned in closer to your core as you widened your legs, his nose nudging against the wet spot on your panties.

“Ten fucking years,” he repeated, his voice husky. He looked up at you with a plea in his eyes, waiting for you to allow or deny his next move.

“Please,” you whispered, your hips bucking against him as he reached out, pulling your panties aside with a quick hand.

Your gaze landed on the window, the dim lights practically inviting passers-by to peep inside and catch you in the act. But when Harry’s mouth found your slick, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, for the first time in your life - whether you became the town gossip or not.

His movements were rough and unrelenting, his fingers spreading you open as his tongue flicked against your clit, appreciative murmurs vibrating against your skin.

As if he could read your mind, his thumb took over the pressure on your clit, rubbing circles against the nerves as you writhed. His tongue licked at your slick with an intensity you’d never know before, his free hand slipping under your jumper to grip at the curve of your waist. Tingles spread from his touch, the lust taking over your body as pressure built in your core.

Without warning, Harry pulled away, pulling your legs around his waist as he stood up. A needy whine fell from your lips as your high dissipated, the soft skin of his abs rubbing against your entrance.

“You made me wait. You can’t handle it now?” he murmured, his lips warm against your neck, the whiskey still hot on his breath.

He took the stairs two at a time, the ancient wood creaking under his feet. You looked around the apartment as Harry weaved through the dark, brushing against tables and knocking over a stray glass, too focused to care. The room smelled faintly of him - whiskey, smoke, and that earthy, familiar scent you couldn’t place. It was messy, cluttered with books and clothes, but your heart warmed with an odd sense of belonging the moment you crossed the threshold. Your clothes came off at some point during the journey, a trail of knits and underwear reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel’s, but one that would only lead you to the person you were before you knew how it felt to be fucked by Harry Styles.

He stumbled slightly, caught himself, and half-laughed, his hands steady on you as he dropped you onto the bed. You landed with a gentle bounce, your heart racing, heat building in your chest. You needed to pinch yourself in case it was all a sick dream. All those days of stolen glances and lingering touches that meant nothing and everything, all those years wondering where he was and what lucky woman hadn’t run away from him.

For all those years, you’d told yourself he was stuck in your head because of the what ifs. What if you stayed, what if you’d forged a life together, what if you hadn’t acted on hormone-driven impulses.

Harry was intense, magnetic in a way that made it impossible to look away, but the idea of actually being with him had always felt like a distant dream. And yet, there he was, breathing ragged and close, his weight settling beside you, hands resting on either side of your head as he held you in place with a gaze that felt as if it could unravel you.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he asked, voice low and edged with that same maddening confidence that had drawn you to him in the first place. His tone was challenging, almost taunting, but there was something vulnerable lurking in his eyes.

You took a breath, feeling a knot in your chest loosen as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Always have.”

His smirk softened for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face, and you could sense the weight of all the things he’d never said hanging thick in the air. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, and this time, there was nothing held back - no restraint, no hesitation. Just an undeniable pull between you, finally given permission to break free.

“One condition,” Harry rasped, leaning down to press kisses across your bare chest. “When you leave, you keep in contact this time.”

“I will, Harry. I swear. If I leave,” you grinned up at him, your nails scratching at the base of his head.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he traced a path down to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. “If?” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and disbelief. He pulled back slightly, catching your gaze with a look that was both playful and deadly serious. “I’m not planning on giving you a reason to run.”

You felt the weight of his words, the lost time between you settling heavy in the air. He wasn’t going to make it easy.

“I won’t this time, I promise,” you whispered, fingers tightening around his neck, pulling his lips to yours, praying your kiss would convey how deeply sure you were.

Harry looked at you for a long moment when he pulled away, studying your face as if trying to memorize every detail, as though he wasn’t sure you’d really stay.

His eyes dropped to your tits as he reached down to stroke his cock, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb grazed over the wet slit.

You pawed at him impatiently, biting back the whimpers that threatened to spill out of you as he lined himself up at your entrance with one last look into your eyes.

You felt your life altering in front of you, your trajectory changing to what it could’ve been a decade before, fate pulling you and Harry back onto the same path, the one your should’ve always been on.

But when he pushed himself into you, that familiar pressure tinged with pain, the feeling of being filled like his cock was the missing fucking piece - your mind was clear. You wrapped yourself around him, your body fighting to be as close to him as possible, your moans syncing to his thrusts.

“Harry,” you whimpered, mouth falling open as his free hand found your clit again, drawing your body back to how close it had been to climax.

“I know, baby girl. I know,” he rasped, his voice strained as he fucked into you, his thumb unrelenting as it worked at your bud, his strong body overpowering yours.

Your hips bucked into him, your legs starting to quiver around his waist as you writhed and jerked, your moans mixing with the deafening slaps of skin-on-skin contact.

“It’s mine, this is mine,” Harry growled, his possession tipping you over the edge. His. That was all you’d ever wanted to be.

Your orgasm came on strong, your body tingling and tensing from your head to your toes, your fingers clamping around his shoulders, your back arched into his chest.

Your walls were fluttering around him, your pussy desperate to milk him for all he had.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his control slipping as he stared down at you, committing the image of your high to memory, the first thing he’d want his mind to see when he woke, the last thing he’d see before sleeping. His hand slipped under you to the curve of your ass, angling your hips to allow him deeper, his cock hitting spaces you didn’t even know you had.

“This is just the warm up,” he grunted, pulling his cock from you at the last minute, his come spilling onto your chest, your lips curling into a smirk.

“I think there’ll be plenty more of that,” you whispered, pulling his lips back onto yours, barely unable to kiss him with the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

mehhh i don’t know about this one … but ive been itching to post something 👉🏼👈🏼🥹

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[o3o-lapd-o3o]

people be wondering why there's no appearance from hades in any of the sagas, especially the underworld saga (even if he wasn't in the odyssey itself) i have a theory!

spoilers for vengeance saga and future ithaca saga!

do you not understand how busy that poor guy/god is during odysseus' terrible, horrible, no good, bad journey home™

first he has 7 freshly made pancakes men (14 if you count the club smash noises in survive, but we'll go with 7 for this) sent by chef polyphemus, appearing one after the other.

not long after that, you have 550 very soaked (drowned) men pop through in the blink of an eye, no thanks to his younger brother, mr ruthlessness himself, poseidon.

then while he's still counting/organising the paperwork for them, a young man appears, who happens to be very drunk (talking about pig men?)

not long after that, somehow a warship filled with mortal men breaks into the underworld, ALL ALIVE, and the (king? leader? captain? he's not too sure at this point) starts singing outside his front door about becoming a monster????? but before he can sic cerberus on them, they leave on their own

finally he thinks he has a break when 6 men holding torches (are some missing limbs?!?) have now joined the party down under (granted they're all in no mood to party, they weren't expecting to become snacks for a sea monster)

and just as quick as they'd arrived, in a flash (just like the snap of lightning that took them out) 36 crispy/fried men (gods damn it zeus) appear, weapons drawn like they were about to attack someone (how does that one guy at the front swing such a big sword?)

at this point hades is wondering what the fuck is happening upstairs, because ain't no way these 600 men are all from the same fleet/island under one guy's command (turns out the captain's name is odysseus)

he thinks his prayers are answered because he has had peace for 7 years, just the normal flow of souls into the underworld- (wait whats that chanting)

suddenly those previous 600 souls are flying their way outta the underworld (he didn't know they could do that) while singing "six hundred men! (six hundred)" on repeat

they return though (thank the gods, he didn't need to go soul hunting) and once again he thinks everything will be calm

(he also found out from zeus, that their brother got his godly-ass handed to him by that MORTAL odysseus! WHO USED HIS OWN WEAPON AGAINST HIM (something to help make him laugh over spring & summer and while he waits for his beautiful persephone to return home))

he finally thinks his time with odysseus and the souls that come from him/being around him is over. when in minutes of each other, the souls of 108 men appear, all killed in gruesome ways. then they tell him that they were killed by beggar who then revealed himself as king odysseus, from trying to marry his wife and take over his kingdom (ok very understandable murder then)

at this point hades doesn't know whether he's excited for, or dreading the day he actually meets odysseus in the distant future (yes distant, i don't care about/ don't accept the telegony. let the poor man enjoy the rest of his life with his son and wife!!!)

but yeah, understandable why you don't hear from him throughout the sagas

[mischiefmaker615]

hi!

not sure if you’ve done this idea before (I’m terribly sorry if you did already😭) but I’d like to ask for one that kinda goes like this:

reader touched herself in her room, Loki walks in on her, intending to discuss about some files (for missions or whatever)

aaaaaannnnnnnnddddd they do some stuffsies in bed

thank you love you tons❤️

Finish the Job

Rating: R (kinda dark dark..)

The sound of stacks of paper hitting the ground could probably have been heard through the entire tower with how quite it had just gotten in merely a brief moment.

Loki blinked, unable to look away.. unable to want to look away while your fingers clutched the sheet to your chest, just as wide eyed.. just as frozen.. with a mild buzz beneath the sheets.

Shit…

Taking a shaky breath, you felt the redness creep onto your cheeks. Your chest grew tight and your stomach followed, your body shaking probably just as much as your vibrator was while your fingers cowered away from reaching for it. ‘’..i don-‘’

‘’no.. I heard it..’’ Loki said, emotion undetected In his voice that barely raised from a whisper.

‘’..n-no i-‘’

‘’you said my name Y/N.. I know you did..’’ Loki continued, his eyes seeming to pierce yours while careful breaths slowly made his shirt seem tighter than it already was upon his chest. Gods what you’d give to rip those buttons off..

‘’n-no-‘’

‘’you practically were moaning it.. please don’t try to deny it.. deny me..’’ Loki said carefully, his eyes seeming to soften and almost plead while he took a careful step towards the foot of your bed.

Most people would have screamed, ran, any panicked reaction towards someone who had just caught you masturbating while moaning their name. why didn’t you? Your cheeks were red, your fingers tightening around the covers and your thighs squeezing together while he leaned forward to press both his palms upon the mattress. Gods…

‘’i.. I couldn’t help it..’’ you said quietly, shamelessly glancing away from his eyes that seemed to study you while he slowly moved forward, his knee joining the bed and drew your attention back to him.

‘’darling.. is this how you’ve always felt about me?” he asked, his eyes traveling down at your concealed form as if the sheet wasn’t there. A small hint of a smirk seemed to tug at the corner of his mouth while his eyes moved back up to your own. ‘’you poor poor thing..’’

This was him.. this was all him.. he loved to see you squirm, shy and speechless.. little did you know it would have somehow gone beyond outside the work place. Flirting at work was beyond unprofessional, but you loved it.. no matter how much it made you red. But this.. there was no way he could have so happened to come here.. to the tower and just so happened to-

Your eyes quickly moved to the work files on your floor now, having fallen open to reveal blank pages. Your eyes widened and switched back to his awaiting ones which now held the familiar mischief and smirk on his face.

‘’I had to find someway to see you, it was just a matter of getting out of the office while it was your day off..’’ Loki purred and slowly began crawling up to you, your body tensing while your lips parted with silenced words. ‘’though I never truly would have suspected you to be getting started without me..’’

Your breath hitched, eyes widened and quickly took note of the vibrated beside your thigh under the sheet. Your hand made a sudden move to grab it, to dive under the sheet, to beat him to it- but his hand caught your wrist first.

‘’ah ah darling, why deprive me of the fun when I’ve worked so hard to come to you?” he smirked and placed your wrist above your head, his knees straddling your mid thighs now to keep them pinned while the other hand rested beside your waist in your sat up position. ‘’and now.. you will do the same for me..’’

His hand left your wrist and you immediately tensed your muscles to bring your hand down but found it stuck in place. Your wide eyes raised up to find nothing was holding them back but the slight shine in Loki’s eyes in the corner of yours made you aware he was using magic.

‘’you cant-!’’

‘’what? Cheat? Darling, don’t you know by now that If you are not selfish in such a world, you won’t survive..’’ he chuckled, taking note of your other hand that gripped tighter onto the sheet against your chest and looked back at you with amusement. ‘’come now darling, we both know you want this.. it’s just a matter of breaking through your adorable and shy façade and let me take care of you..’’

His voice seemed to get lower, more seductive at that last part where you could feel the shiver run up your spine. You wanted him.. but the mortification of being caught in the moment still ran through your body where you tried to convince yourself to snap out of it. Even with your eternal monologue in your head, you could feel the fabric in your fingers slowly slide away and the temperature of the room hit your skin.

‘’just as I’ve imagined and better..’’ Loki whispered, your eyes finding his gazing upon your chest while his hand moved to take your other wrist. His eyes never moved while his hand raised your to join the other- with little to no struggle from you.

‘’p-please..’’ you whimpered, not sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going while your body tensed and blushed.

‘’I’m never one to keep a woman wanting darling.. for to long..’’ he smirked, his gaze giving you a brief glance to match his smirk before he leaned down, his smooth and slender hands cupping both your breasts while his mouth captured one of your nipples.

A gasp left your lips, your back instinctually arching which just gave Loki more to work with and a moan vibrating your skin. His eyes fell closed, humming now and again while he sucked and gently nipped until he made his “point” before he switched to the other one- his hand taking custody while it kneaded and massaged.

‘’L-Loki..’’ you breathed, your eyes fluttering while it slowly began winning the battle.

His very name off your lips had him moan again against you, making you squirm while another wave of arousal washed over your body and had your thighs press together more if it hadn’t been for his knee slowly inserting itself between your legs to prevent you from closing them. You didn’t try to fight it, knowing you’d only probably tangle the sheets up while it still stayed concealing your lower half with Loki pinning it on top of you with himself straddling you. With your eyes fluttering, you sucked in another breath to try to beg him to make you cum, to stop teasing, to finish what you had started before you suddenly felt silk being pushed into your mouth, making your eyes open quickly to see him smirking devilishly at his work.

‘’as much as I’d love to hear you moan and scream, your whole goal was to not be heard? Of course darling you failed at that when I’ve successfully found you but there is no harm in trying to continue your request of silence. Which would make your gorgeous panties the perfect way to muffle those cries..’’ he smirked and sat back on his heels to take you in.

You squirmed in your bonds, arms aching ever so slightly while your words stayed muffled by the cloth now in your mouth. It was so erotic- so wrong if you did your best to squint at the situation, but that didn’t stop the arousal that made itself known between your legs while he moved himself back on the mattress slowly and began pulling the rest of the sheet off of your body.

‘’mmph-‘’ you squeaked, eyes squeezing shut while your last bit of covering left you and the temperature enveloped your newly exposed skin. You heard a pleasured sigh before you, opening your eyes to find Loki’s drinking you in and a hard on straining through his pants.

‘’absolutely ravishing darling.. how can you expect me to do nothing with you looking like this.. all for me..’’ he purred, his eyes dragging up to yours while you took deep breaths, pushing down your self-consciousness while you gave him a pleading look with a confused reason on why.

He gave you an indifferent one and instead reached down to your thigh and picked up the discarded vibrator you had buzzing away and no bigger than a large bullet. ‘’you Midgardians are very interesting, thinking you could replace flesh with anything but.’’ He tsked and looked it over with a held back chuckle. ‘’but I suppose if this is what you wished to use today, than perhaps I shall oblige before I show you what true pleasure if suppose to feel like..’’ he promised and moved closer to straddle your thigh again, keeping a knee between your legs to make sure they stayed open while you began squirming again.

Your whines fell upon deaf ears, his intentions having no care of being stopped while he gently cupped your cheek- thumb stroking your skin while his other hand fell down with the machine, his eyes holding onto your gaze to drink in all the new reactions he was about to pull out of you.

At first he brushed the device against your clit, light enough for a tease but enough to have your body flinch a little with the returning stimulation. You were left sensitive and your nerves coming back to life in a quick second when he began to brush it against you and pause, making sure he studied every facial expression you gave and relished every second of it with a chuckle.

His smile was cruel, knowing he was teasing and found it far better than any words he used anywhere else to have you red and wanting amongst company. He should have caught you long ago if this was the most fun he could have had.. and planned to make up for lost time as he began recalling a particular shop the Iron Idiot wouldn’t stop talking about once in an unwanted conversation. He’d have to thank him later..

‘’mmm!’’ you whined, your brows furrowing as your body began to tense and shift, your arms trying to pull against your bonds while the vibrations shot attention through your body. It felt so good and intense all at the same time, especially once Loki dipped forward to began slowly sucking on your neck and stroking the new darkened spots with his tongue. The hand that had cupped your soft cheek moved now under your chin and turned, taking hold to grip your jaw and hold your face towards the side to give him better access to your skin and still your movements.

‘’that’s it darling.. I want you to feel everything.. everything I’m allowing you to feel.. and you’re going to cum like a good girl for me when I tell you too..’’ he murmured against your skin, pressing an open mouth kiss after practically each word while your legs rubbed and gripped his thigh between them while your body practically almost thrashed.

The vibrator began to have more pressure against your clit, rubbing against it in slow circles while his hand maneuvers it to be staying in that spot so he could dip a finger simultaneously into your entrance. It ghosted, barely sliding all the way in before it would pull out, making you whine and moan before it would slide back in. it was repetitive and maddening, teasing you while you felt your cunt clench around nothing while it tried pulling his digit in to no avail.

‘that’s it darling.. you’re going to cum like this.. in a teased state just as you’ve prepared.. only this time, I’ll be here.. I’ll always be here..’’ he breathed, giving your collarbone a nip and making you suck in a breath while you felt you coil begin to tighten and threaten to snap.

‘’Loki..’’ you moaned, muffled through the cloth but you both knew what you had said.

He raised his head up and pressed his forehead to yours, making damn sure you held his gaze while he pushed his digit all the way into your cunt- aiding the vibrators placement with magic so he could watch you gasp and arch in pleasure.

Your orgasm hit hard, feeling his finger curl while the machine pressed firmly against you into your state of ecstasy. You squirmed, thrashed and moaned while he helped you ride it out, keeping his pace steady to prolong your recovery and it was almost to much while you whimpered and twitched.

You could see Loki smile, a lovingly look overtaking his gaze while he pressed an approving kiss upon your forehead while his movements began to slow down and the vibrator shutting off. Your body twitched, trying to catch your breath while he slowly slide his finger out of you and raised it with an amused look on his face. ‘’I think this device may have sparked a bit of ideas darling, this of the opportunities you Midgardians present yourselves..’’ he gleams and sucks at his finger, his eyes closing a moment to relish in the taste with a moan before he brought it out with a soft pop.

‘’think of how many meetings you could have while I have this shoved into your cunt.. or perhaps I could tease you with a remote..’’ he smirked, moving up to straddle your hips properly finally while his hands rested upon the headboard on either side of you.

Your eyes looked up at him, widening in their recovery while his own danced with the possibilities.

‘’I could always leave you like this.. perhaps leave you with your precious machine still buzzing until I find it fit to come to grant you relief.’’ He then raised it up to examine it as if it were for the first time, raising a brow. ‘’I wonder how long you could take it, an hour? Two hours? What other Midgardian devices are there that suit your interest?”

Your body then began to tense, legs pressing together while another wave arousal hit in the mix of fear to find his gaze slowly moving to the side of the bed and to land at your nightstand drawer. Of gods.. how did he know?

“your mind truly will get you in trouble some day if you don’t learn to shut me out.’’ Loki chuckled and his eyes moved back to your with another devilish grin on his face.

‘’so, shall we begin?” 

(If you're interested in this similar one shot storyline, i suggest you read my other one shot(s) called "Doctor(1)" and "Who's Fault")  

(Remember friends: toys are your team mates, not competition LOL)

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85

[beef-brisket]

The next day, Adam informed Charlie that he was off to finalize the deal with Vox. It surprisingly didn't vomit when he said that.

Charlie: Thank you, Adam!

Adam: You're welcome, my dear!

Adam watched as the seconds ticked over. 11:58. Not long now. He was ready for whatever Vox wanted to do. He could handle him if he got too rough.

He sighed, it was time to go.

Lucifer watched from the down the hall as Adam sunks into the floor surrounded by shadow. Lucifer knew it was time for him to get going. Adam rose from the floor, directly behind Vox and his giant screens. What a freak.

Adam: Vox.

Vox jumped and turned to Adam, which a huge smile on his face.

Vox: Adam! Hello!

Adam: Shall we shake on our deal? I would like to get this hour over and done with. Pardon the insult.

Vox: Of course!

Vox held out his hand. God, Adam was going to regret this.

Adam: One thing. The princess is curious about this "main attraction," you mentioned. I'd like to be shown that, as part of the deal.

Vox: I completely understand. You'll be shown it as soon as our hour is up. I'm in full control. There will be no retaliation after this hour. No interpretations. You will be compliant and submissive. You'll at least try and look like you're enjoying me. There will be no complaints, no stopping. Once we start, you're mine. Until 1pm. And in return, I'll advertise the Hazbin Hotel, now that it's been proven that sinners can be redeemed, I'll give you a unended subscription to my angelic security service and Intel directly from the horses mouth. Oh, and I'll throw in the promise that the few thousand clips of you getting your ass beat by the first man stay out of public consumption. Deal~?

Adam was going to regret this. But he couldn't deny that it was a good deal, if it was someone other than him spending an hour alone with Vox.

Adam: Deal. They shook hands. A burst of electric blue sparked out from their hands.

Vox smiled. It was sickening.

Vox: Fantasic! You know, Adam. You may have gotten an upgrade in power, but so have I. Since our last little trist, I had to make some changes. I'm sure you'll like them.

Adam: ...I'm sure, I will.

Be put on his sweetest smile, it was part of the deal.

Vox moved closer, softy touching his hand: How I've dreamed of this. To touch you. Don't worry, I'll be gentle~.

With a snap of his fingers, they were suddenly in a bedroom, cords and wire wrapped around Adam's arms, tying him to the bed.

Vox: Hm. Too many layers~. Get rid of them.

Adam tensed as cables buried their way into his clothes and ripped them apart.

Adam growled: Vox-

Vox: Uh huh! No complaints! Don't worry. You'll enjoy this.

Adam kept his eyes on Vox as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, leaving him in his pants. He slowly crawled onto the bed.

Vox: I've always wanted to know. Do you have hooves? Or something else~?

Adam: Really? That's what you've been wondering?

Vox: Of course! Look at you. You're gorgeous. How are you, a sinner? You like an angel~.

Adam tensed but still smiled as Vox ran his hands down his chest to his stomach.

Vox: Let me please you. You'll feel more than satisfied after this hour. You'll come back begging fore more, trust me~.

Adam: I-I'm sure I will...

Adam watched as Vox started undoing his pants, it was taking so much willpower not to crush him in his tentacles. It was only an hour.

Vox: Oh- holy shit. Aren't you a treat~.

Adam blushed with embarrassment and looked away. His pants and underwear were fully off. He knew this was going to happen, but somehow Vox made him feel dirty, and he hasn't even been touched properly yet.

Vox: Don't worry, Adam. I can fill you up, just right~.

Adams eyes widened as he saw that Vox has two cocks. He was already lined up. There was no way he could take both of them. Not yet.

Adam: V-Vox... I...

Vox: Shh, Adam. I've got you. And you've got me~. All of me~.

Lowkey want an au where Adam has Alastors' powers.

The tentacles

The eyes

The changing size

The shadows

The sass

The deal making

Him owning Husk and Nifty

The musical numbers

The radio control

The tentacles- have I mentioned that before?

The rivalry with Lucifer

Maybe he replaces Alastor entirely. No Alastor. Only Adam. It's always been Adam.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Only Adam lol This is good! His Husk and Nifty could be Lute and Peter.

He doesn't have to smile all the time does he?

Yessss, and he plays rock instead of jazz lol And yes of course there is a rivalry lol

[a41-i-finally-caved]

JJ and PTSD and why 4.10 was a slap in the face

Okay. so. Here's my issue.

(there will be a ton of cursing because I'm fucking pissed.)

JJ's ENTIRE FUCKING ARC has been him feeling like he's worthless, like he's somehow inherently evil, that he "deserves" the things that happen to him, that everything's all his fault. That he should be killed saving his friends because that's all he's fucking good for.

And that? That's not a JJ-exclusive thought pattern. That's what happens to your brain when you're a CHILD and a fucking grown ass man instills that in your head. Whether physical and verbal abuse like they showed in canon, or childhood sexual abuse like what's happened to me and many, many others. An adult shows you that you're not worth shit compared to them, and since you, again, are a child, you fucking believe them. Adults teach you about the world, and kids are good fucking listeners.

So you grow up knowing down to your guts that you don't belong on this earth, you don't own your body, you don't deserve the space you take up. Any of y'all confused by JJ's bullshit?? Well there you go. That's the very basic assumption he's working off of: he's dead, been dead for years, so what the fuck's it matter what he does? It doesn't.

(I don't know how to express that screaming lack of existence to those with an inherent understanding of their own worth and right to living but the closest I can get is this. You look at yourself and understand that no matter what actions you take, you are wrong on a soul-deep level and there's nothing you can do about it.)

Here's the thing. It's all bullshit. And it takes so much fucking effort to believe that, and some days you don't but you trust that you will tomorrow or the next day or the next. That's called healing. That's called living.

Because the only way past this is time and support and fucking proving with every breath that no. Fuck you. I deserve to be here. I deserve to get old. To cry. To weep. To fucking dance on a dock because you finally made a home. That you deserve to LIVE.

And S4E10 just declared no; you don't. JJ was too damaged to give him any other ending. Even Kie couldn't fix him. The best he could hope for was dying in the dirt with someone he loved. Oh look he gave up the crown! He was happy in the end! He had his wish! He loved her!!

Yeah well sorry to bust the 'isn't it all so tragic' circle jerk, but no. It's not fucking poetic. Or beautiful. Or God-fucking-forbid romantic. It's shit.

Because JJ Maybank was never real, but they chose to highlight the very much real pain I and others struggle with using his story. And then they told me that struggle ends with death...because how else could it end?

Just because y'all can't imagine living his life and going on, and going on, and going on, and not fucking killing yourself doesn't mean the rest of us aren't looking down that path every day and deciding to break those lies in one moment of existence after another.

The showrunners missed that.

If they wanted to finish JJ's arc? It wasn't saving Kie, or finally having some 'realization', or sacrificing himself for his friends. It wasn't some short but meaningful life.

JJ needed to fucking live to prove that he deserved it. End of story.

Thanks for the slap.

[lildavesblog]

Pumpkin Carving | Kimi Antonelli

requested? : yes!! ‘Heyyy. I had an ideas for spooktober. soooo maybe kimi or ollie with the reader and they need to carve a pumpkin (for a prema video for example) and both of them are just really bad at it and keep goofing around. Just like a little drabble. Thank youu <3’

summary : when you and kimi are paired together to carve a pumpkin for a prema video, things get a little out of hand

disclaimers : second pov (you/your), implied driver!reader, google translated italian

word count : 0.8k

a/n : thank you for the request! I am so sorry for the long wait, but I really loved this idea!! had a lot of fun writing this one!

“Oh you guys picked a bad pairing,” you said as you looked out at the Prema marketing team, who were adjusting the lighting and messing with the settings on the camera. On the table in front of you were two small pumpkins and a few different knives and spoons to use to carve them.

“No, we’re going to do great,” the curly-haired boy spoke from beside you, gently nudging your shoulder. You turned your head, giving him a doubtful look, which only generated laughs from behind the camera.

“Okay, you can start whenever,” a female voice from behind the camera told you, and so you two quickly went through introducing yourselves and what you guys were doing.

You started with grabbing one of the tiny carving knives, and pulling the small pumpkin closer, trying to carve around the stem so you could empty the inside, but it was proving to be a bit difficult. You glanced over to see Kimi on the same step as you, struggling to get the knife through the pumpkin. At one point, as you had nearly gotten the top off, Kimi began trying a new tactic of repeatedly stabbing the top of the pumpkin.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed, scooting your chair further away from him. “You are about to lose knife privileges,” you added, watching with wide eyes as he absolutely murdered the top of the pumpkin. He somehow was able to take the top off though, and then turned to you with a smirk.

“See? My idea worked,” Kimi said, before his eyebrows furrowed together seeing you had moved to the very end of the table. “What are you doing over there? You're going to be out of frame,” he said, laughing as he reached over and pulled your chair back to where it was before.

“I do not want to be this close to you,” you said with a laugh as well. Eventually you had been able to remove the top from your pumpkin, and then grabbed one of the wide plastic spoons to try to scoop the insides out.

“This is so gross,” you said, turning your head away from the pumpkin, both the sight and smell making your stomach churn. You tried to scoop out some of the seeds, but the second the slimy insides touched your hand you gave up, pulling your hand out with a very disgusted look on your face.

“It’s not that bad y/n,” Kimi said, having already emptied a good portion of his pumpkin.

“No, this is so bad,” you said, looking around the table for something to wipe your hand off with, but couldn’t find anything. You turned to Kimi, not really thinking twice before using the sleeve of his Mercedes shirt to wipe your hand on.

Kimi’s eyes widened as he turned to you, although a wide smile was on his face. “You did not just do that,” he said, a devious look in his eyes, which made you realize that was definitely a bad idea.

“Kimi- don’t you dare,” you began, but it was too late. He had already grabbed a small handful of the pumpkin seeds from his pumpkin and smeared it on the sleeve of your shirt.

Your mouth dropped, eyes wide as he nearly doubled over in laughter at your reaction. Despite how disgusting you thought the inside of the pumpkin was, it didn’t stop you from reaching your hand into your pumpkin, grabbing a handful of the squishy seeds, and returning the favor as you smeared it along the front of his shirt, hiding the Mercedes logo.

“Oh, it’s on,” Kimi said, a laugh falling from his lips as you jumped from your seat, laughing with him as you pushed your chair between the two of you. That didn’t stop him from gently throwing a handful of the pumpkin at you, which hit you in the stomach.

From behind the camera, the entire marketing team was absolutely dying with laughter.

“Okay, that’s it,” you whispered under your breath, once again grabbing a small handful of the slimy seeds. A large smile was on your lips, however, energetic laughter matching Kimi’s as you chased him around the table. You stopped, with him on one end, you on the other, and leaned over the table, reaching your hand up and ran it through his dark curls.

Simultaneously, Kimi had reached his hand up, which had gone unnoticed by you, and rubbed pumpkin across your cheek.

Both of your eyes widened, your contagious laughter falling silent, although the marketing team was still laughing. Your eyes met, and the split second of disbelief quickly broke away into large smiles.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” you said, holding your hands up. “Truce?” you quickly asked, as Kimi bent his head down, shaking some of the pumpkin from his hair.

“Truce, piccolo diavolo,” Kimi said, sending a playful glare your way as he made his way back around the table. translation : little devil

“You are unbelievable,” you said with a smile as you both sat down to try and finish the video, although the likelihood of that was pretty low.

requests are open! please send some in!

dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

[weirdkpopgirl]

Love Heals | Jaemin Imagine #18

Title: love heals

Genre: college au, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions and graphic descriptions of self-harm, depression, blood, breakdowns. please do not read if any of these topics make you uncomfortable.

Word Count: ~1.4k

Author's Note: I guess I went from writing some sweet fluffy stories to sad and dark stuff again. I apologize, I know my lighter stuff might be what you guys like more. But whenever I write about this sensitive topic in particular, it means that my mind is spiraling again and I'm stuck in the dark place I've tried so hard to escape. And in this dark place, I write what I feel in hopes that I can comfort others who might be experiencing something similar. Please know that you are not alone, and there are so people that want to help and support you. If you feel like there isn't anyone in your life who can do that right now, know that God loves you and wants to help you get through this. Thank you for reading and I'm sorry ^ ^

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪

The heavy silence falls on your dorm room again, as you relive every dark thought that has ever entered your head. Once again, your mind attacked and you lost the battle. All the progress you’ve made to fight the negative self-talk is meaningless. Positivity, optimism, hope— are all strangers, fleeting and unreachable. Depression is the friend that you’ve become too attached to.

Sitting in your bed, you glance down at your arm, now littered with straight lines of red— the faint sting of them just starting to settle. They vary in length, most of them small but numerous. The cuts started just below your elbow, and stopped at your wrist. Somehow it has become your goal to ensure that no space of skin goes untouched by the razor blade that’s resting proudly on your desk. Each line seems like a scarlet promise— a release, a brief surge of something other than emptiness. And your mind echoes with the familiar justification: I’ll stop eventually…just not now.

The quiet creak of the door, left unlocked by your roommate, pulls you from your thoughts, and you know without looking who’s come in. Jaemin. He’s always had a way of moving softly, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the air. You’re grateful for it, but you wished he hadn’t come tonight. You just wish he’d go home and not see you like this. Yet, your boyfriend must have a sixth sense of something. Despite all the effort you put into hiding it, he seems to sense your sadness from even miles away.

“(Y/n)?” His voice is tender, but you hear the worry beneath it. 

Jaemin’s eyes sweep over her as he crosses the room, his gaze landing on your arm. Out of instinct, you pull down your sweater sleeve out of instinct. But you both know it’s too late— the damage is done and he’s seen it. Although you want to appear unbothered about it to him, your heart still clenches as his shoes come off and he approaches you cautiously.

He exhales as he reaches for your hand gently. “Princess…”

You want to pull away, to avoid his touch— another instinct. But his hands are so warm, so careful. You feel like you don’t deserve it, yet it keeps you from pushing him away. Jaemin turns your arm over, exposing the fresh wounds. His expression softens even more, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he crouches down under your bed, to open the bottom drawer where you kept the first-aid kit he bought for you after the first time this happened.

Silence lingers as he moves to sit beside you on the bed, the dark blue comforter from your childhood beneath you both. Without a word, he takes gauze from the kit, pressing it softly against the cuts to stop any bleeding before reaching for the antiseptic wipes. Jaemin cleans your cuts with the same care he always does— gentle, tender, yet heartbreakingly serious.

Although his focus shifts to bandaging your wounds, you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. You never can, knowing this has happened too many times by now. Shame bubbles in your chest and you bite down on your lower lip, trying to think of what to say. You search your mind for an excuse you didn’t use the last time. Coping with stress? Releasing anger? Punishing yourself? Wanting to feel something instead of nothing? Maybe all of the above, you suppose.

When the last area of marked skin is covered with an “extra large” Band-Aid, you finally dare to glance up at him. By now, you’ve learned that Jaemin doesn’t react with anger in general. Especially in these moments, he never raises his voice or purposely uses words to make you feel worse. Instead, he simply lets you know that he’s here when you’re ready to talk, before asking if you’ve eaten yet. These incidents always end with a shared meal and cuddles in your bed or his.

But the way he looks at you now, with such concern and despair, chips at the wall you try so hard to keep up. Once the first-aid is closed, he holds your hand and brushes his thumb lightly over your knuckles. That’s when you notice his fingers are trembling.

“Jaem... are you okay?” you ask, though your throat was dry from staying quiet for so long.

Then you see water gloss over his eyes and this hits you. Jaemin never cries. 

His head drops and his hand tightens around yours, almost like he’s afraid to let go. “(Y/n)... I... I don’t know what to do.”

The quiet confession makes you hold your breath. You watch as his shoulders begin to shake, and he uses his free hand to cover his face. The first tear slips down his cheek, and then another, until he’s full-on crying, letting soft, choked sobs escape him. This is all the heartbreak you needed to witness for you to lean forward to wrap your arms around his broad frame. 

It hurts more to see his usual steady composure shattered. “I-I’m so scared, Princess,” he blubbers.

“Every time I see this—” Voice breaking as his fingers ghost over your arm. “Every time I find you like this... I can’t help but fear that I’ll get here too late. That... that one day you’ll just be gone.”

You haven’t been able to cry since you first picked up the razor blade today. But seeing your boyfriend break in front of you is enough to make tears well up in your eyes as well. You have never seen Jaemin like this before— so raw, so completely undone. 

All you can do is hold him a little closer as if that could somehow mend the pain you’re causing. He sinks further into your embrace, his body trembling against yours. You try to soothe him by stroking his hair, as you often did as a gesture of affection. But the brokenness in his sobs only grew louder.

His forehead presses against your shoulder as he clings to you. “I just... I want to see you graduate. I want to marry you, and buy a house together. Have kids with you as we’ve always wanted. I want to come home to you and the family we’ve made together.”

Your heart feels like it’s splintering. The dreams you both share weigh down on you, each one sharper than the last. Tears fall freely for you now as his own ones slow. He pulls back slightly to look at you with his red-rimmed eyes, vulnerability etched across his face.

“(Y/n), please,” he pleads desperately, “I can’t lose you. I love you so much... Please don’t leave me.”

Jaemin consistently shows his love in every possible way, whether it be through words, hugs and kisses, gifts, all of it. However, this is the first time you truly understand the depth of his love— the way he wants you here, not just in fragments, but whole, alive. A surge of resolve fills within you. 

As your fingers reach up to brush away his tears, you whisper, “I’m so sorry, Jaemin. I didn’t realize how much this was hurting you too.”

His leans into your touch, compelling you to cup his face in your hands. You feel the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

“I’ll... I’ll get better. I promise, I’ll try for you. Because...,” you swallow, struggling to find the right words. “Because I love you too.”

Of course, you have returned those three words to him. But these ones in particular carry so much more to them. Although you may feel deeply trapped in Hell, your love for Jaemin is stronger than this punishment you’ve given yourself. He deserves to have someone he can give his love to and have every ounce of it reciprocated. And you want to be that person for him, you can be that person for him.

The calmness in him seems to appear, as his tears finally subside. He moves closer to let all of his emotions pour into the soft kiss he presses against your lips. “You’re not alone, Princess. I’ll be here with you, every step of the way,” he murmurs in assurance. 

A strange, fragile hope blossoms inside you as the two of you kiss again. For the first time, you want to believe there is something more than your own pain. If your love with Jaemin prevails, you have the will to heal. For him now, and for yourself eventually.

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡��

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Unfortunately for Franco, there's not many streets that are safe from petty thieves nowadays, including the spot where he parked his car. Seeing an opportunity to gain some quick bucks, Leo stealthily opened the car to steal the scattered phone and its earphones plus some fake jewellery that Franco stashed inside the car. Leo proceeds to run away with the stolen goods, his mind already thinking about the potential money that he could gain from the sales of the item. But a notification startled him, "New Job" it says and the message somehow leads to the phone automatically unlocked on its own. It seems like it's an audio that continues to play so Leo put on the earphone

"Gender: Male, Age: 22, Height: 6'2", Weight: 205 lbs"

In an instance, Leo found himself frozen on the spot as his body altered beyond comprehension. The way his 6'5", 157" statuesque form densed as his bones shortened yet muscle swole due to the order looked straight out of body horror sci-fi movie. As the tattoos that scattered across his face vanished to showcase a clear youthful skin and the muscle growth stopped, another lulling voice flows into his receptive ears

"Hair Color: Dark Brown, make it wavy; Eye Color: Sage Green; Facial Hair: Pornstache; Body Hair: No! Hairy only in his pits!"

He might not be able to see it, but his jet black iris already turned into a sparkling green that can hypnotize anyone that stared at it while his damaged bleach blonde hair turned into healthy brown locks. The growing moustache matched the shades of his now brown hair and it sits right above his lips and framed it nicely and somehow he unconsciously smirked as he managed to turn around to found his reflection in one of the closed store display by the side of the street

Satisfied with the reflection, he still heard another sound still coming out from the headphone so he then decided to put it once more

"Ethnicity: White American with whatever ancestry; Language: English. Just make him a classic, in-denial, All-American douchebag curious to smooch his own jockbros!"

Leo scrunched his forehead upon listening to the order, but the resistance turned out to be short-lived as his brain received the order rather easily, altering his personality and sexuality to fit the order per stated by the client. Still tranced by the memory-altering order, the final set of order eventually spoken by the audio.

"Size: 5 inches; Preference: Bottom; Body odor: Not really pungent, just make him hella sweaty because he'll be in the gym for most of the time and he'll wait for me at ____ Gym until I pick him up!"

And as if on-autopilot, he walked like a drone to the aforementioned 24 hours gym and start to bust his ass until the one that made the order picked him up.

When the one that made the order eventually walked into the gym, it's been 3 hours since Leo stepped inside the workout temple to sculpt his body. The person is grinning from ear to ear upon seeing Leo all alone, as expected. Leo, sensing that the person walking his way is somehow responsible for his transformation and will be the one that spread his boycunt apart, stopped his workout altogether and greeted him

"Hey man, are you the client?"

"Yes, you punk. I'm the client, and I'm about to destroy that ass for fucking up my night," grinned Franco devilishly as he grabbed the earphone and the phone away from the unaware Leo.

Thank God the punk stole the phone late at night when no order would be made as people would be asleep by then. With a little thinking, Franco made the order to his own phone using his client's account and manage to stop the thief from getting away with this. Plus, now Franco got a pretty hot fuckboy to use on the side and he has no plan to revert this thief back to normal until he's satisfied

"Say "aaaahhh" motherfucker,"

---

Jesus fucking Christ, this one is so hot bro I'm legit leaking @captainmalewriter

Great concept and execution, tried my best to keep up with this follow up but the OG is really hot

Made to Order

Franco pulled up to the apartment building of his latest client. He parked his car along the street and sent his client a quick text letting him know he had arrived. Franco then pulled out a pair of earphones from the glove compartment, connected them to his phone’s jack port, and put them on. He then booted up a survey app. It greeted him with a light blue screen and a ‘Hello!’ in a British accent. 

“Let’s see what kind of guy this dude paid good money to bang…” Franco muttered to himself as he pulled up the list of responses from the survey he sent to his clients. He scrolled to the latest data entry and skimmed it over. A grin formed on his face as he read it. 

“Alright then! No time like the present, let’s get to work.”

He downloaded the data entry into his phone’s local storage and composed it into an audio file. Once it was ready, Franco pressed ‘play’ and leaned back in his seat as the makeshift music began to fill his ears. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of any and all thoughts, allowing the music to submerge his mind and body with powerful subliminal messaging. 

Gender: Male. Age: 24. Height: 6’4” ft. Weight: 170 lbs. 

Franco groaned as a cold chill ran up his spine. As he grew taller and heavier, the muscles in his legs rapidly flexed and relaxed. 

“Ohhh… Fuckk man…”

Franco couldn’t help but massage his aching body as he began to physically transform. He became hyper-aware of how his body felt and moved, which made touching his sensitive skin with his warm hands all the more pleasurable as it gradually changed. Franco moved the car seat back, as he needed the extra space to accommodate his sudden growth spurt. He gained several inches of height and about 30 pounds until he matched the size his client had requested. 

Hair Color: Brown. Eye Color: Green. Facial Hair? Mustache only. Body Hair? Yes.

The next few details of Franco’s client’s request rang in his ear and reverberated throughout his body. He gripped the sides of his seat as he felt his body working overtime to pump out heavy quantities of hormones. He winced in pain as his dark brown eyes changed colors. They became lighter and lighter in hue until they were a brilliant shade of green that glimmered in the sunlight. 

Franco’s hair was next to transform. The straight, black hair on his head grew lighter and curlier until he had wavy, brown hair. The skin on Franco’s upper lip tingled and itched as the hair follicles began rapidly growing in. Franco let out a heavy moan as his mustache hairs kept growing and growing until he had a thick mustache that hung over his lips. Once he had the right mustache, his underarm hair began growing, too. Franco only had a light dusting of pit hair, but thanks to his strange audio files, he could grow well past his natural limits. His armpit hair grew longer and thicker until he had a jungle of brown pit hair in his underarms. His pit hair had become so long that it even peeked out when Franco had his arms down!

Ethnicity: Mexican. Language: Spanish, or English w/ Accent. 

Franco let out a sigh of relief as he heard the next three lines of the audio file. Thankfully, the next transformation would be more mental than physical, which gave Franco a chance to take a quick breather. 

He relaxed against the headrest as the audio file echoed inside his mind. The more Franco heard his client’s preferences, the more his psyche changed to match his request. Suddenly, Franco was no longer a middle aged man from Midwest U.S.A. but a young Mexican man who had only recently immigrated into the country. His mind became filled with all sorts of new knowledge surrounding his Mexican heritage and culture, such as the Spanish language. 

“Mmm… Que rico…” Franco purred sensually as his throat muscles broadened and his vocal cords thickened, granting him the heavy accent his client had requested. The audio file also gave him a deeper voice too. Although that detail was more for Franco’s personal enjoyment than anything else.

But despite his newfound knowledge, there was only one thing the newly transformed Franco desired: to fuck as many men as physically possible. There was nothing he loved more than seeing a man pressed down against a pillow as he railed them to the next Tuesday. Just the thought of a man’s bubble butt swallowing his dick was enough to make him start leaking.

Size: 7.5 inches. Breed: Dom top. Body odor: YES.

While Franco was busy relishing his new voice and fantasizing about his next bottom, the next line of the audio file played, triggering the final piece of the transformation. Franco threw his head back as the next wave of bodily sensations caught him off guard. He let out loud, guttural groans as his manhood grew obscenely erect until it filled in his underwear. Franco massaged his sensitive, throbbing member as it grew longer and fatter than what he originally had. Before he knew it, Franco’s new endowment ripped the fabric of his briefs. His dick sprang to life like it was just begging to be released and played with as soon as possible! 

Franco wrapped his hand around his new dick and gave himself a few strokes just to test out his new tool. As he did so, a rank smell began to fill his car. It was sweaty, smelly, and addicting. That scent was none other than his natural body odor but kicked up to 100%. With the windows rolled down, Franco was becoming hot-boxed off his own tantalizing smell. Not that it really bothered him, as he was too busy admiring the glorious sight of his new, hung cock standing at full mast with a healthy bush of thick pubes to complete the look.

A tap on the window interrupted Franco’s moment of self-admiration. He glanced over and saw his client watching him with hungry eyes and a hand stuffed down his pants. Franco smirked, then rolled down his window.

“Hola papacito. ¿Te gusto?” Franco flexed his arms and winked at his client. The man nodded vigorously like a dog begging for a juicy steak. Then, he took a heavy whiff of Franco’s potent body odor and sighed, satisfied. 

“I can’t wait any longer! C’mon, let’s get you inside!!”

Franco grinned. He loved the whiny sound of a man begging to get fucked. He tossed his phone and earphones to the side and followed his client up to his apartment, where he proceeded to show him the dom Mexican top he requested to fuck him hard and raw. Another man made to order, another man satisfied.

[possamble]

Dungeondaily posts are so crazy bc like. Jesus Christ. Those bitches really went through All That in like a month and a half.

[corviiids]

there are fixations where you're like oh my brain has latched onto something per my usual adhd patterns and then there are fixations where you touch a piece of media for the first time and immediately you're like ah... so this is what it is like, to meet your soulmate. and your soulmate. is a shounen manga from 2004

[rosemaryreality]

So... a while ago i made this redraw of an edit with itafushi wedding, however i was only happy with how I drew Itafushi, so i said that i would upload a version without the rest of the characters and then...never did it. the reason is because tbh i wished i had painted it better. So i decided to do it again, but then i had problems with adding stripes(? to Yuuji's hair the way i initially had done with Megumi, so i decided to add more detail by making him have individual spikes...and then i realized that they looked way more detailed than i had initially planned, but it was also the best hair I've painted in my life.

So in the end i had to redo Megumi's hair so it matched and THEN try to match the style for everything else. It could look better tbh but I'm too proud of the hair to be bothered by it.

Oh and i also added Megumi's new scars, cause why not.

[birdiebirdjay]

YES!!!

(i'm highkey gonna be raging under the cut, i'm sorry to anyone who enjoys my normally positive manner :[)

Genuinely, I don't care what people say. Neville was an irresponsible, ridiculous, idiot. He leaves his 'beloved pet' around random places and loses him constantly, is cowardly and incompetent for the most part, and is the most forgetful person in the series that I can recall. See, this wouldn't really be a problem, except for the fact that he endangers other people frequently because of these flaws. For fucks sake he left a list of all the passwords to the Gryffindor dorms WITH A MASS MURDERER ON THE LOOSE!

Even the everyday things he does that are supposed to be regarded as funny or comedic relief are horrifying. Potions was an incredibly difficult subject, but Snape was an incredibly competent teacher (completely tossing the textbook out the window and teaching the subject properly). Neville was still out here creating the magical equivalent of pipe bombs! What would have happened if one of his fucked up potions blew up a cauldron and permanently incapacitated someone? (Actually, something pretty close happens in canon; the damage isn't permanent, but what if it had been? Thank god he never made it to N.E.W.T.s: "Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.") I don't know about you guys but I swear to god if this kid was in my class I would have fucking lost it.

Maybe I just think this because I'm Asian but the teachers were completely correct to chastise him for his incompetency. It was not their responsibility to coddle him or 'accommodate' his stupidity. He can clearly get shit done when Hermione is secretly whispering instructions to him, so why can't he copy the instructions that are written perfectly clearly on the board? What the fuck is happening during his normal working time? Is he just purposefully fucking everything up? It would have been completely different if even Hermione couldn't save him, but for god's sake, he is clearly at least capable of brewing a potion!

Draco Malfoy was turned into a small animal and bashed against a cobblestone floor multiple times! Do you see anyone crying about how he was traumatized and abused by a teacher/death eater in disguise? No! You see people glorifying said death eater and declaring it canon that he's secretly cute and gay and punk or whatever. Snape never physically abused OR abused Neville at all, actually, he was a rightfully strict teacher fed up with this kid's idiocy. He's not even the only teacher to lose it over him! McGonagall does it as well! Neville is just an absolute idiot, and it's tiring as fuck seeing people defend him!

You know what, fuck Neville Longbottom.

He was NEVER supposed to be a sympathetic character! He's very clearly a character written to be made fun of for being ridiculous! Him being so scared of everything isn't an endearing character trait designed to evoke sympathy and understanding, it's a FLAW that's meant to make you wanna shake him and yell at him to get a fucking grip!

I grew up reading boarding school books, specifically the Enid Blyton ones, which I believe almost every single British child has read. The school stories are mostly traditionally girls' books, and they all have very similar character tropes and themes, some of which are shared with Harry Potter, which is a boarding school story. There's always at least one jokester, such as Alicia in Malory Towers. She's brilliant, intelligent, but she's rather unkind and thoughtless, and always pulls pranks, or rather tricks, on people, especially the one french teacher. She's exactly like Fred and George, practical jokers who are popular and well liked but not always very kind and don't always consider the outcome of their pranks. There's always an incredibly strict teacher the girls don't dare play funny with. In the third book there's this one teacher I cannot recall the name for, but she, I believe, is considered mean and strict and awful up until the end where it turns out she's actually got a good heart. She's not the level of pantomime meanness as Snape is, (perhaps because she's not a male teacher and also not teaching the kids something that could kill them all), but she's a similar trope.

Actually, Snape reminds of the teachers from the old Beano comic, overly strict and mean, but when you consider the shit those kids put them through you can kinda understand why. But ultimately, Snape is a classic children's trope: the mean strict teacher who actually deep inside would take care of the students.

Neville? He's ALSO a trope! The ridiculous coward!

Going back to Malory Towers, there's Mary-Lou. She's a very cowardly, nervous girl (and a sweetheart, but a scaredy cat nonetheless). And that's a FLAW. NOBODY SYMPATHISES WITH HER BECAUSE WHAT SHE'S AFRAID OF IS NOTHING TO BE AFRAID OF! They at best pity her because it's a miserable way to live, but they don't support her for it. There are multiple full plots where the aim is her having to do something scary to get her to shake off this cowardliness, at least one outright organised by another character in an attempt to show her she can be brave.

Scaredy Cat characters in British children's media, especially in these school stories, are never scaredy cats to be sympathised with. They're there as a sort of comedic relief or to make things interesting, and are often considered a nuisance, the way Neville is! In the first book there's a very classic "you need to learn to stand up for yourself" piece involving Neville. Which he does!

People seem to be projecting all sorts of trauma onto Neville. Especially regarding Snape. There seems to be, in this current time, an attitude that him being a coward is something other people need to be accommodating for, and that he's a victim, especially regarding Snape. Neville is not a victim. He's not supposed to be accommodated for, especially in the climate he's living in. He exists as a comic character, and clearly to be a bit ironic as he's a coward in the house of courage. But regardless, his cowardice is not the result of trauma no matter how much people project it onto him and blame Snape for it.

Neville's cowardice is a flaw. It makes him ridiculous. He's afraid of absolutely nothing important at all. He's afraid of a teacher? That's absolutely stupid! Everyone laughs at him. Even he's aware that this is something stupid to be afraid of. He's more afraid of his grandmother, to the point that he didn't mention her because he was that afraid of her being his boggart. It just happened Lupin used the grandma, unaware of the situation, as an idea of how to make the boggart look ridiculous. So it makes me mad that people use the boggart scene as proof that Snape traumatised Neville. Neville is not traumatised. He's just an idiot.

Yes, I've gone there and I'm staying there. He is an idiot. He's frightened of stupid things. He keeps fucking up basic potions, basic spells, everything, to the point that McGonagall forbade him from doing anything in front of the visiting schools because he's that bad at everything. Can he help it?

Yes. He can help it. Instead of being a coward and crying about it, he can just as easily be confident, own up to it, and be more bold in trying to be better. His cowardly nature is what makes people lose respect for him. Something that makes sense considering the setting of the story!

Neville's arc is him growing up and getting confidence by going through difficulties and rising to meet them, not by other people gently helping him through his nonsense (and it is nonsense). That's not how things work in the setting of Hogwarts at all. In the setting and culture of Hogwarts, there's no gentle helping, it's "pull yourself together!". That's exactly the attitude everyone gives Neville, from the students to the teachers.

Neville's cowardice is ridiculous. It's as much of a flaw as Draco's arrogance, Snape's unpleasantness, McGonagall's competitiveness, and so on. He is not meant to be babied for it, or called "traumatised", he's meant to be scolded and shaken until he gets some sense knocked into him.

Snape's approach to Neville is exactly what you'd expect in this context. Maybe another teacher would have less of an unpleasant attitude about it, but in the end they WILL lose patience with him because all he's doing is not learning and trying to make him learn the same thing everyone else learnt last week is going to waste everyone's time. It makes zero sense to spend time trying to get one child to understand a basic concept that everyone else understood ages ago instead of moving with the curriculum. Snape is naturally mad at Neville for messing up the clear instructions that are right there on the board. He's rightfully mad about it. He's rightfully mad that Neville won't learn. He's rightfully mad that Neville's putting them in danger. Yes, he's got an unpleasant attitude, but he's right to be mad. He's also right to use Trevor to make Neville learn. People make it seem like he wanted to poison Neville to upset him. No. He was raising the stakes for Neville so that the love Neville had for his toad would force Neville to get his act together! Which is exactly what I'd expect from a teacher in this context dealing with a student like Neville! Fuck that, that's exactly what I would have done if I'd have had to deal with this idiot for multiple years and he still fucks up the simplest and clearest instructions. If Snape wanted Trevor hurt, he simply wouldn't have restored Trevor to his original state and killed him.

And lastly, not every unpleasant experience is a traumatic experience. One single unpleasant teacher is not going to traumatise Neville or anyone else! It's just a part of life. What, do you want everyone to be nice and coddle these kids so when they leave the safety of Hogwarts they aren't equipped to deal with people who are unpleasant? People love to project and find trauma in every unpleasant situation (for fucks sake they say DUMBLEDORE traumatised Tom when in reality Tom's a sulky baby who's mad that Dumbledore did not fawn over him like everyone else and actually called out his shit) but not every unpleasant situation is a traumatic situation!

And you know what, fuck it but some people have to go through a traumatic event to learn a fucking lesson. Dudley abused his cousin. Being "traumatised", or rather punished for his actions by being turned into a pig is what he deserved/needed, and even then did that stop him tormenting Harry? No! Draco being turned into a ferret? Yes, traumatising, but he's also a bully who needed to be taken down a peg! Neville being "traumatised" by Snape? Good! It may kick the cowardice out of him and make him a bit more cautious about dangerous potions!

Trauma is Snape being bullied by the Marauders for no reason, being abused by his father. Trauma is Harry being abused by the Dursleys. Trauma is what Ginny went through in her first year. Trauma is Neville having to see his parents there but not there when visiting them.

Trauma is NOT dealing with an unpleasant teacher.

Especially when you look at the context of when Harry Potter was written and where Hogwarts is set.

And Neville's cowardice isn't cute or endearing or something to baby, it's a fucking flaw that needs to be dealt with sternly.

[todayisafridaynight]

no ones ever gonna understand how much i love daigo doin this stupid shit after dissolving the tojo

[stormyoceans]

P'Aof revealed on twitter that JimmySea improvised the scene where Mork tales Day's watch off and you want to tell me that they really went into the d/s territory themselves????? Oh i am so gone

SLACK JAWED SHAKING OUT OF MY SKIN CRYING SHITTING YELLING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS FOAMING AT THE MOUTH THROWING UP BLOOD WHILE IN A DEAD FAINT IN FRONT OF MY SCREEN NEEDING SMELLING SALTS TO RESTORE CONSCIOUSNESS I NEED EVERYBODY TO PAUSE

HOW DID I MISS P'AOF SAYING THIS HELLOOOOOO????????????? JIMMYSEA TRULY KINGS OF UNDERSTANDING THE ASSIGNMENT OF COMPREHENDING THE NUANCES OF GRASPING THE INTRICACIES OF DELIVERING THE IMPLICATIONS OF MASTERING THE RITUALS AND OF IMPROVISING THE MOST DERANGED SCENES EVER PUT TO FILM IN THE HISTORY OF TELEVISION I LOVE UNHINGED METHOD ACTORS WHO ARE ALL ABOUT THE PROCESS

also im not the most knowledgeable person about d/s dynamics, but if i came out of this episode with one single certainty is that mork is a service top. i think in general it's pretty obvious that mork's love language is acts of service (and his attempt to fix phorjai's laptop when he was hitting on her is a pretty glaring example of this), but i love that this episode points out that there's a big difference between HAVING to service someone and WANTING to service them. it's one of the many reasons day calling himself mork's 'friend' and mork's reaction to it is so important: day is putting them on a more equal ground, which of course makes him more accessible (because boss and employee is very much not the kind of relationship they want to have with each other), but it also tells us that when mork says 'let me help' and 'you need anything else?' it's not out of obligation due to his job. he WANTS to do that, he WANTS to take care of day and do what pleases him, because that's his way of loving and flirting with someone (and on the other hand, day has never wanted to be taken care of because since the accident people believed him incapable of doing it himself, but when it comes to mork, day now welcomes and even desires his care in a very different way)

AND ONCE AGAIN THE FACT THAT THIS ENTIRE SCENE WAS IMPROVISED BY JIMMYSEA AND YET FITS THE EPISODE AND THE CHARACTERS SO WELL???????? OUTSELLED OUTSERVED OUTSLAYED OUTACTED OUTPERFORMED OUTEVERYTHINGED

[sunbunnyyy]

i know i just got here, but seeing all of the laughably bad takes from both sides of the spectrum is convincing me that no, i don’t actually need to be on social media again.

[athina-blaine]

"yaoi ship wars" this and "don't get into dunmesh for the yaoi do it for the doomed yuri" that when we're all forgetting the true enemy here ... lai/cille ...