#and they don’t say anything other than stuff to make you feel bad

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

feeling a bit generous today, so for anyone who needs these, here are some tips for writing blue lock specifically (also some bonus facts at the end)

- right off the bat, don’t let popularity and likes on your posts be the only thing on your mind. when you write, make sure you’re also enjoying what you’re writing. doing this stuff only for fame and fans is a bit sad, but not only that, the quality of your work will decrease due to less passion.

- if you want it to get popular and fast, writing for rin, kaiser, or nagi is your best bet. they’re easily the most popular when it comes to this part of the fanbase, and people will eat up ANYTHING sweet when it comes to these nonchalant men.

- listening to music while you write can be helpful. i know it’s not for everyone, but listening to a playlist that matches the vibe of what im writing helps me lock in really well. here is a playlist for writing something fluffy and lovey. here is a playlist for writing something angst and made from pure sadness. here is a playlist for something obsessive and intense. here is a playlist for something that really makes you think about your life choices. (yes, i made all of these playlists, and these are the ones that i listen to)

- using the egoist bible to confirm information is immensely helpful. not only is anyone else who reads the egoist bible see those small Easter eggs, but adding those small hints about their character can also be cute and makes for better writing.

- use colored dividers. i get mine from this post (thank you to firefly graphics!!!), and make sure you use the colors in order with the characters. for example, i use teal for rin, dark blue for kaiser, and yellow for bachira.

- using song lyrics or song names as titles or inspiration is easy for ideas and for attention. many times, i will listen to a song and realize how much it matches with the blue lock boys or realize that it’ll make an incredible prompt for a drabble. for example, in no. 1 party anthem, there is the iconic “the look of love” part. for that, i made a post with the same title as the lyric and made it about how their eyes are when they are in love.

- putting 2-4 characters in a prompt drabble is the ideal amount. it gets you more popularity quicker due to more characters and more tags, but also, anyone who only started reading the prompt for a certain character can also enjoy reading about the rest of the characters.

- use as many tags as you can. if you look at the tags on my post, i use a monstrous amount.

- quality >>>>>>> quantity ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. even a 100 word drabble can be more beautiful or impactful than a 1000 word fic if it’s worded better, has a better concept, has better character writing, and has better interactions.

- there are many tropes that work well with certain characters. for example, i always write kaiser with the childhood best friends trope, because not only does it match his character, but it also makes the best quality content. another example is karasu with academic rivals for obvious reasons, although im pretty sure we all already know that.

bonus facts!!!:

- i tend to have a hard time writing sae. he’s a difficult character to understand, which makes him all the more appealing to me but also just as annoying to write. because we have no idea what happened to him when he was in spain, he’s hard to write without being ooc or weird. before kaiser’s backstory, i also had a hard time writing for kaiser. (im an infp 4w5, if that helps)

- the only blue lock boys i can confidently say are green flags are barou, kunigami (pre-wildcard), yukimiya, and karasu. many of the others (isagi, reo, bachira, etc) are extremely close to being green flags but all have questionably toxic things that make them yellow flags.

- i wanna write for shidou so bad, but because the fandom mischaracterizes his so much, it’s hard to write for him validly without getting criticized. for example, shidou is NOT going to beat you up for no reason or be disturbing towards you for no reason. if you don’t play soccer or if you’re not particularly special, then he’s honestly just really chill. think of him like hisoka from hxh but less of a pdf file.

[suzukiblu]

Day seven and the final day of February’s first weekly WIP behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he’s FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. and like, definitely internalized victim-blaming that said POV character is not actually recognizing as that. So uh, you know, just Kon’s … entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Superboy just feels so gross right now. He feels so gross and so stupid and it tasted gross and Robin wouldn't stop yanking his fucking hair no matter how fucking hard he tried to do a good job for him and then Robin called him a fucking whore while he was trying to save his fucking life and didn’t even say he did a good job and–and–

And Robin’s not some random-ass civilian or asshole supervillain, Robin’s–they've met before. They’ve worked together before, at least a couple times. They’d both literally saved each other’s stupid lives before tonight, even. Like, more than once, even! Superboy didn’t decide to get his stupid little hopeless-ass crush on him out of, like, all the fucking nonexistent publicity photos and paparazzi shots of the guy, for fuck’s sake; they actually know each other. Like–at least enough to have saved each other’s lives and like, significant chunks of both Gotham and Hawaii. 

And even after all that–even after all that, Robin still thinks he's not worth being nice to even when he actually wants to fuck him. Not worth using a condom for or listening to when he asks him not to do stuff or when he asks if they can do something different or–or–wouldn't settle for the fucking handjob, wouldn't tell him he had fucking condoms, wouldn't stop yanking his fucking hair–Robin thinks he's a mouthy bitch and a whore, but he wouldn't even let him have a stupid condom. The condoms he specifically carries to give to people, even–he'll give them to stupid drunk people and prostitutes who should've packed their fucking own, yeah, to any other kind of whore, but not to him. Robin doesn't care if he gets sick or if he just doesn't wanna get fucking come in his mouth or on his face or–or–Robin carries those for people, not–not–

Robin didn’t even kiss him first. 

But Tana’s nice to him, even though he’s so stupid that he can’t even figure out why everybody else is always so fucking mean.

Tana’d care if he got sick or felt gross or–or any of that shit. Any time he feels bad, she always makes him feel better, even when it’s over really stupid shit; even when it’s over nothing at all and she has to explain to him why he shouldn’t even be upset or–or whatever. Even when he’s made her really mad again and disappointed her again and–and–

Tana cares if he gets better or not, and nobody else even thinks he can.

And she doesn’t treat him like a fucking kid, either. Everyone else treats him like a kid, but only when they want to shut him up or ignore his opinion or what the fuck ever. Never–never for any other reason. Never for anything–else. 

At least if people wanted to treat him like a kid, they could be fuckin’ consistent about it. They could be, like–literally anything except whatever was most convenient for them at the time, whether he had any opinions about it or not. He wouldn’t even–he wouldn’t even really care about somebody doing that, he’s pretty sure, if they were just fuckin’ consistent about it. 

He doesn’t know why–like, that’s not a–he doesn’t–just, if they were consistent, then–if people treated him like a kid and were just–just–

But they don’t. Nobody does. 

So nobody fucking gets to. 

“Just–take a breath, Kid,” Superman says, because he apparently thinks he fucking gets to, the asshole. 

He doesn’t get to, though, so Superboy just grabs every light fixture he can feel in the whole stupid cave and disassembles them all. And it doesn’t even matter, obviously, because fucking Superman has fucking infrared vision anyway, but that’s not the fucking point. 

He just doesn’t want any of these assholes looking at him like that anymore.

[mushhroooms]

Day 1. Oviposition w/ Neuvillette

A/N: This is probably the most unhinged thing out of everything I’ve ever written. Also probably OOC since the last time I was into Genshin was the multiple Albedo incident and Scara being revealed as Wanderer so I’m going off fics and what little I know of his character😭

I hope this is good :(

A/N #2: I’m so sorry this took forever to release. I've had a lot of stuff going on with my mental health and school. I’m trying to do it as fast as possible without rushing the fics!

Word count: 4.6k

Reader: The reader is gender neutral but has afab anatomy but other than that the reader’s body is not described!

This fic includes consent checks because consent is sexy❣️

Warnings: blood, branding, belly bulging, biting & marking, Breeding, collar & leash, dacryphilia, blood mentions, master/pet, slapping (not the face though), soft sadist Neuvillette, possessive Neuvillette, soft dom Neuvillette, dom Neuvillette. Neuvillette goes feral, monster fucking (He’s a dragon so…), double penetration, overstim, oviposition, rut/heat cycles. 

If I missed anything please let me know!

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“Please-” you go to plead with your husband, who seems to be in a very bad mood today.

“Did I say you could speak?” he snaps, voice filled with a venom that you’ve never heard from him before.

“What’s gotten into you!? I can’t even just speak to Wriothesley now!?” You shout, your own irritation growing.

Your husband was never like this, never possessive, never jealous... This was all new and out of character for him and it worried you.

“I don’t like it! The way you were so close to each other!” He turns, and for a second you swear his pupils are more slitted than ever. “His scent on you” Disgust is in his tone.

Your shoulders droop, anger fading more into worry “What is going on, Neuvillette? You’ve never acted like this before.” Your eyes search his as he stares at you sitting on the edge of the bed from across the room. There’s something different, something primal in his eyes.

He calms down a bit, but you can tell he’s still angry by the look on his face, a frown, eyes seemingly glaring, his eyebrows furrowed. “I just don’t like what I sensed between you two.”

You get up and walk over to him, the gaze in his eyes makes you feel like… prey, nearly feral.

You look into his eyes as you stand before him “Neuvillette. You know there is nothing between me and Wriothesley, he’s just someone for me to talk to when you're busy. I love you.”

He calms fully, his shoulders fall as he calms down a bit, your hands cup his cheeks and your thumbs stroking his skin. “I… I know, I…”

“Hm?” You hum as he stops talking, not finishing his sentence.

“I can’t say I don’t know what came over me because that would be a lie.” He frowns

“Then tell me the truth, it’s ok.”

“It’s just… I want you all to myself. Forever.”

“And you have me.” Your voice is hushed.

“But, I-I want you more deeply, I want to know if anybody sees you they’ll know you belong to me. I want to mark you and… Archons, I just want to claim you in every possible way.” His voice comes as a bit of a growl and his hands grip your arms, pulling you closer and holding you in place.

His words and tone send shivers straight down your spine and to your core, you can feel it, the bulge in his pants against your thigh.

“Neuv-”

“I want you, I want you so badly” His breath is heavy and his hands grip your arms tighter. “I want to mark you up, I want to make you mine over and over again, I want to own you,” he growls and you feel the knee-weakening spark of arousal in your lower region at his words.

“Neuvillette-”

“My rut, it’s come, I can’t control myself- I-” He pulls you closer, against his body as he wraps his arms around you.

“Then take me.”

“W-What?”

“If you want me, then take me.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Beloved.” His voice shakes “You can’t say things like that during my-”

“I know” His hands grope your hips “But I mean it. You’re my husband. I want to help you.” “You… you can’t. I could hurt you.”

You’ve had sex together before, yes, so you’re aware of his… physique… but he has a point, you and Neuvillette have never spent a rut together, it’s the first one he’s had since you two have been married, and you have no clue on what to expect.

“I trust you” The words leave your mouth before you begin to think about what he may even do to you because it’s true, you trust him with your life.

His eyes widen a bit, the feral look in his eyes growing, and he growls “Love. I- You can’t possibly begin to imagine the things I want to do to you.”

“Then show me.”

He lets out a heavy breath before slamming his lips onto yours, your words spurring on his maddening lust. The kiss is rough and messy, and his hands roam and grope your body, like a wild man. “My love” He groans “I’m going to ruin you.”

He pushes you onto the bed and pulls away from the kiss, he looks down at you, pupils slit in lust, his breath hot and heavy as it fans your face “Do you mean it? You’ll let me do what I want?”

“Yes,” You whisper out breathlessly “I really trust you.”

The air falls silent as he pants, his hands gripping the sheets next to your head before he whispers out a small ‘fuck.’

“Strip” He demands.

He gets off you, peeling off his coat and shirt, before walking over to the fireplace, you sit up and begin to peel off your clothes, trying to figure out what he is doing. He’s holding a metal rod into the fire and your curiosity peaks “What are you doing?”

“I am going to brand you.” Your eyes widen at his blunt response, but your thighs instinctively press together as your cunt throbs, and he sees it in his peripheral vision, he smirks, feeling himself get even harder inside his pants.

“Everybody will know exactly who you belong to just by looking at you.” He begins to walk over, metal rod in hand, the shape on the end glowing with the sizzling metal.

“Turn around.” He orders and who are you to disobey your husband? You turn around on the bed, sitting on your knees, looking down at your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, waiting for the burn, for the pain. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. “This won’t hurt too much, my love”

He leans in, placing soft kisses on the back of your neck before pressing the burning metal to the flesh of your back. You cry as you feel your skin begin to sizzle, he shushes you “I know beloved, just a bit more.” His voice is softer as he comforts you. You tremble, your skin burning as the metal shape steals the spot of your flesh. He kisses and nips the back of your neck and shoulders as he holds the brand to your flesh. You feel your flesh give way, molding to the shape, and you can only guess from feeling that it’s a dragon. But who knows? Your mind is blinded by the burning pain.

He pulls away the metal rod and from you. The comforting weight of his body, breath, and warmth disappear, leaving you to sob as your flesh stings in searing hot pain. You can distantly hear the metal being placed and some drawers open before his weight returns to you, his thighs encasing yours as he holds you from behind.

“Shhh… I know, Darling. You did so well for me.” He whispers, you can feel his erection pressing against your rear as he leans close to you, his arms drooping around your shoulders, kissing up and down the side of your neck. “So good.” He purrs before sinking his teeth into the nape of your neck, and you cry out sharply as his sharp teeth break through your skin, hands flying to claw at his forearm meekly. He growls at the sweet nectar of your blood on his tongue, his forked tongue lapping up every droplet of blood, his hands squeezing your hips as he grinds against your ass. “Do you know how pretty you are when you cry? When those big tears roll down your cheeks from those pretty eyes?”

He hums as his hands caress your hips before he presses his gloved fingers against your still-aching brand mark, smirking as you cry out, your voice cracking and breaking in pain. “So fucking pretty” He growls, his hand gripping your hips roughly as he presses his fingers against the mark, enjoying every single little whimper, whine, and cry of pain you let out. He pulls away, looking at the violent red brand mark and the sweet bubbles of blood on the wound from his teeth.

He grabs the cloth and alcohol that he had grabbed from the drawers, pouring some alcohol onto the cloth before pressing it to the brand mark, to keep it clean for now, you let out a tiny sob at the sting of the alcohol. “It’s ok, beloved.” he gives you a gentle kiss on the side of your neck, before he removes the cloth, flipping it over and putting alcohol on that side, before pressing it to the mark on the nape of your neck, and you whimper and flinch. He kisses your hair as he pulls the cloth away, hands going back to your hips, while he grinds against your ass again, making you whimper.

“You’ve done so good for me so far, but I am far from done with you.” He groans “On my lap.” He orders and you turn, slowly crawling onto his lap. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders as you look into his eyes. You sniffle and he smirks, his hands cupping your cheeks and using his thumbs to wipe your tears. He leans in to kiss your cheeks “So pretty” He whispers.

“How about you close your eyes for me, Sweetheart?” His thumb strokes your cheek, and your eyes flutter shut, “Good, so good for me.” His hands pull away from your face and a few seconds later you feel something start to enclose around your neck, velvety and thick, a soft ‘clip’ hits your ears as what you presume is a collar finally closes around your neck, snugly but not tight enough to cut off your lack of air. A small tug jerks your upper body forward.

“Open your eyes.” He says his previous ferality in his tone returning. Your eyes peek open softly, seeing the dark blue velvety leash wrapped around his hand. “How does that feel, pet? Good?” He tugs again, a little rougher this time, making sure the collar won’t hurt you. You can feel his hard-on straining in his pants against your bare cunt.

He smirks and tugs again “Grind down onto me, pet.” He orders, and who are you to disobey him?

Your hips press down, and the rough fabric of his pants against your clit makes you whimper, “Neuvill-” Your moan is interrupted as you cry out when his hand harshly slaps your thigh, leaving a red mark in its wake.

“No, no,” He tugs the leash hasher, making you fold, your hands resting on the bed beside his hips as you grind your aching cunt down onto his clothed erection. “What’s my name, pet?” He emphasizes your title in his question, making sure you know your place.

“Master” You whine, your hips speeding up as your stomach begins to burn with the build of your orgasm, fuck, were you really that close already?

“Good, very good” He coos, his voice thick with lust and pleasure as you grind against the bulge in his pants, leaning in, he buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting into your shoulder, ears soaking in every sound of your pleasure. “You gonna cum?” He hums into your skin as he takes in your scent. Your whimpers and moans seem never-ending as you grind against him, the neediness in your movements is a big give away and you would be ashamed in any other situation if his hand weren’t on your hip helping you.

“Cum on me” He whispers, taking another bite, softer this time, into the side of your neck, You feel your cunt clench, and your clit throb, so close, so so close.

“Master- Master, please-” You cry out as you cum, hips stuttering before you collapse onto him, gripping his coat, as your cunt trembles around nothing and your body shakes.

“There you go, such a good pet for Master huh?” He whispers relishing as you jolt with the aftershocks of pleasure. “Now everybody will know you belong to me…” The words are more to himself as his fingers ghost the bite marks he’s left on you. “Lean back.” The order is simple but shocks you to the core, you know what comes next.

Nonetheless, you lean back. Your hands grip his thighs to hold yourself. He peels off his gloves, never breaking eye contact as he tosses them in the direction of the foot of the bed, where both of your clothes lie, his hand gripping the leash trails down to let his fingers rub slow, precise circles on your clit, his hold tugging the leash, forcing your head down to watch as his fingers rub your hard, sensitive clit.

“Cum again, on my fingers this time.”

You pant and whimper out “But, I just came-”

“It was not a request.” He snaps, cutting you off, pinching your clit, making you jolt. “You will cum on my fingers.”

His fingers speed up and your body shakes in overstimulation, you whine as your eyes clench shut and you feel the pressure grow. “Like that pet, cum, you can do it. Cum.” He demands, his voice hushed to a whisper as his eyes bore at your closed ones. “It’s too much!” You feel every muscle in your body tense, your back arch, your breath grows shaky, and every pant comes with a tremble in your throat. Your eyes squint open, tears gathering at your lash line as you watch the muscles in his hand contract with every movement of his hand.

“Cum.” his hand gives your hip an encouraging grope as he feels your cunt clench.

You sob, your hips stutter and buck, before your back arches, pressing your body against his as your body spasms. “Shhh… Shhh, you’re ok, pet” He whispers, still rubbing circles on your clit as you orgasm, eyes rolling back into your head.

His continued ministrations make you squeal “M-Master, please!” you sob out, shaking and trembling. He pulls you into his chest, making your head rest on his shoulder as he adjusts his angle, slipping two of his fingers into you as his other hand takes place on your clit, rubbing your clit in tight circles while nimble fingers start to spread out your cunt, scissoring, and curling inside of you.

You feel like you’re about to explode, the corners of your vision start to blacken, you let out a choked noise, and he kisses the top of your head “C’mon, you can do it.” His tone is encouraging, despite him knowing full well the overwhelm he’s putting you through right now. “Please-” you go to plead, it feels good, but it's also too much “Do it, pet.” He orders, you practically feel your body tick with each jolt of pleasure, each thrust of his fingers hitting your G-spot, each rub on your clit. “I’ve got you, pet. Now, cum.”

Your hips buck wildly and you cry as your cunt spasms “Master! Master!” (New stuff from here down)

Your juices soak his hand and forearm as you squirt, eyes squeezing shut, body shaking, and tears streaming down your face. “There you go, pet, so good for me.” He praises, his fingers still inside you and his rubs on your clit slowly, working you through your orgasm. He places a kiss on your throat “You’re so good for me, so pretty when you cry and make a mess.’

He pulls his fingers away, letting you tremble as you come down from your high, kissing your forehead “I love you pet, so much.”

“I love you, too…” You say breathlessly, he grabs you by the hips, moving you so you lay down on the bed, under him “Are you ready, my love? This next part will get… intense." he whispers as he undoes his belt.

You nod softly, you’re overstimulated already but don’t want to disappoint and he can tell, he stops for a moment, his belt undone, and he cups your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as his slit-pupil eyes look down at you. “My beloved, are you sure? If you are unsure about this I can stop.”

“No, I’m sure. I’m just overstimulated… I promise, I want this.” You respond softly, reassuring him, and he gives a soft smile, he moves his hands from your hips to your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “I’ll start gently, okay?” He whispers, kissing your cheek softly as he reassures you.

He untangles his fingers from yours, hands going back to his pants, undoing the button and zipper, and pulling his pants off, tossing them with the rest of both your clothes, leaving him only in his briefs, the large bulge in them nothing except intimidating. He can see the look in your eyes, the slight hesitation, he knew it was a struggle for you to take it every time you’ve both had sex.

“I’ll start gently… I know you’re overstimulated and it’s quite a stretch, but I will ensure it’s comfortable for you, okay?” He reassures you, thumbing at your thighs to comfort you. You nod and swallow when his hand pulls away from your thigh, trailing to his briefs to pull them down, you feel your breath catch in your throat, and your cunt throb, he gives you one last look, making sure you’re ok. He knows he won’t be able to stop once he’s started, when he’s buried in your warmth. 

He pulls down his briefs, and the tips of his cocks slap against his abdomen, there’s pearls of pre-cum resting on the slits, the tips are flushed deeply, and they twitch when the cold air of the room hits the leaky tips. You swallow and his hands go back to hold your thighs, he pulls you closer, pulling your head from the pillows so you lay flat against the bed, he lifts your legs, putting them over his shoulders. He smooths his hands down your legs, from your ankles to the back of your thighs, pressing them to your chest as he leans over you, trapping you there with his cocks resting on your lower tummy, his fingers ghosting from the back of your thighs, over your shoulders, before cupping your cheeks. He looks into your eyes, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

He’s checking you, again, trying to find that hint of hesitation, of fear. He feels his heart skip a beat when he sees none of those. He sees the trust, the love in your eyes. He kisses the tip of your nose, before he takes his hands off your cheeks, embedding them in the bed next to your head.

He pulls his hips back, his tips rubbing against your clit as he positions himself, you whimper at the sensation, your hips subconsciously squirm to try and get more friction, he groans as he feels you rub against his cocks and finds himself grinding his hips into yours. His cocks rubbing through your slick cunt and bumping on your clit. He snarls and ruts his hips faster “You smell so good, so sweet- fuck- you feel so good-” His hands tangled in the sheets, grip tighter and you yelp when you feel the cold feel of his tail wrap around your waist. He growls as his tips catch on your entrance before slipping and bumping harshly on your clit, making you gasp. He huffs as he positions himself again, putting his force into pushing into you. His breath hitches as he feels your cunt give way to him, his flushed tips pressing into your warmth. He groans loudly as you whimper, his cocks sinking deeper into your sweet cunt.

He pants as he bottoms out inside you, claws gripping the sheets and threatening to rip them. “You feel so good my love…” he groans out again, his fang digging into his bottom lip, drawing blood. You pant as well, underneath him, your eyes threatening to roll back into your head just from him bottoming out. He chuckles, one of his hands releasing the sheets from his death grip and trailing down your body, pressing down on the bulge on your tummy. You moan shakily, the pressure making your walls tighten around him, ensuring you can feel every inch… every vein… every throb. 

“Are you sure about this… my love? Once I start, I will not stop till I am satisfied.” He says breathlessly, his purple eyes piercing your very soul. “I’m sure, I want this.” You reassure him, you wanted to tell him that if you really didn’t want this, you’re cunt wouldn’t be as soaked as it is but the words left your brain with his first shallow thrust, flushed tips poking at your cervix. You gasp, and he lets out a quiet groan. His pace is slow, and shallow, trying to make sure you're ok first before he lets himself go. You grow slightly frustrated with the ever so slow pace, reaching up and cupping his face “Please, Neuvillette, I’m ready.” You whisper, and his eyes meet yours once again before he growls quietly. “I’d grab onto the sheets then.” He whispers, and before you can question what exactly he means by that, his hips are pulled back, snapping forward just as fast, stretching your walls and pounding you mercilessly into the mattress with each thrust, the bedframe creaking with a protest at the rough and fast movements, the tips of his cocks for sure to be bruising your cervix, your sure tomorrow you won’t be able to walk, but right now that’s the last thing on your mind. His claws had already ripped through the sheets next to your head, your own hands digging into the sheets.

“You feel so fucking good- so fucking good for me.” He growls out, his eyes falling shut, and his eyebrows furrowing, baring his fangs as he bites your shoulder. You feel tears well once more in your eyes, clouding your vision. A bittersweet mixture of pleasure and pain. “Neuv-Neuvillette.” You barely manage to moan out in pain between your moans and cries. Your ankles dangling uselessly over his shoulders. You’re already close again. Your eyes squeeze shut and a sob tears through your throat as you cum, his hips never once faltering as he fucks you through your orgasm. He’s focused, so incredibly focused on the way your weeping cunt sucks him in despite the rest of your body’s protests, on the way his tips are pounding against your cervix with every thrust, where he’ll plant his seed, where you will bear him children.

His pace is unrelenting, his tail wrapped around your waist tightening its hold just a bit, he pulls his fangs from your neck, forked tongue lapping up the blood. He wraps his arms around you, forcing your back to arch as he hugs you, cocks feeling like they’re pounding into your sensitive cunt even deeper. You sob, your arms wrapping around his neck, nails clawing at his back, your bleary eyes seeing your ankles dangling over his shoulders and your ears ringing with the sound of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your poor pussy. “Neuvillette! Neuvillette!” You cry out.

“So good for me, so good.” He growls, his arms tightening around you. He’s starting to get close, he can feel his cocks throb inside your warm cunt. “I’m gonna cum, I want to cum inside you, please. I want to give you my eggs.” He practically whines, despite the fact he was growling just seconds ago. The thought of planting his eggs deep inside your womb, having your belly grow round and your body plump as they grow inside you, drives him crazy. Your thighs shake as you feel your upcoming orgasm. The thought of him laying his eggs in you is both exciting and terrifying. Will they fit? When they grow will you even be able to birth them?

Logic and worry go out the window as he angles his hips, the tips of his cocks pounding against your g-spot with every snap of his hips, you feel the pressure growing, and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his forked tongue caressing the bud as he suckles. His claws dig into your skin threatening to break your skin from his death grip, his arms wrapped around you not even allowing you to squirm away by as much as an inch.

“Neuvillette! Cumming! M’ cumming!” He pulls away from your nipple, leaving the bud sore, his hips moving faster “Cum. Cum for me.” He demands. You feel your orgasm crash into you like a freight train; your legs tremble as you squirt again. Your eyes roll back into your head as you soak his pelvis, your back arching even more in his hold, a wave of white crashing into you. He lets out a primal growl, his hips moving faster, pounding into you. His growls and groans and grunts grow, and his claws break your skin, droplets of blood spilling from the claw marks now adorning your sides. He grunts loudly, hips slamming in one last time before he stills, his cum pouring into you, deep into your womb. He pants, his cock pulsing and twitching with every spurt of cum into your depths, your walls milking him as your body trembles.

His hold doesn’t falter “Do you want it, love? Do you want my eggs?” He whispers down to you, your mind is foggy from overstimulation and the afterglow of your orgasms. He finally releases you, letting your body slump to lay down on your back again on the bed, caressing your cheeks as he helps you come back down to earth. “Yes.” you whisper out as your senses slowly return to you.

“Are you sure?” He asks ever so softly, making sure you are 100%. You nod, shaky hands reaching up to pull him gently down into a kiss. He kisses you with fervor, tender and soft. His hands cup your cheeks as you feel something moving up through one of his cocks, you gasp. He pushes himself deeper, his tips poking at your spongy cervix. He groans lowly, the sound soft as the weight leaves him, the egg planting itself in your womb. The egg is rather large and the weight is nearly crushing, it makes you whimper as you feel the foreign object and weight. He practically purrs into the kiss, another bump moving up the length of his cocks, before planting itself in your womb alongside its sibling.

“So good. Do-ing so good for me, love.” He grunts out breaking the kiss as another begins to travel, a thin string of saliva connecting your mouths still, “Last one, so good-” He mumbles, Groaning as the the final egg leaves him, snuggling in your crowded womb next to the others.

“So good for me, my love, so full of my clutch.” He rubs your stomach, which now has a tiny but noticeable bump to it. “Are you ok? How do you feel?”

“Heavy.” Is all you can manage to mumble out “No pain?” He asks softly. You shake your head. “Good. Good.” He kisses your forehead, still rubbing your tummy. You feel your eyes droop, the exhaustion from the overstimulation and intense sex taking its toll.

He kisses your forehead again “Sleep love, I’ll clean you up.” You hum in response, too tired to form words, your eyes shut and you sigh, sleeping overtaking your overworked mind, you can distantly feel the warm damp cloth cleaning bite marks and the mess between your legs, his voice is softly heard, not talking to you, no, to your tummy, a warm smile overtakes your face and the last thing you feel being his hand caressing your tummy and kissing it before the arms of sleep wrap around you and you sink into the mattress.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello, I hope you are doing well! A while ago I requested Sully and Helen where they see their partner dressed up and heavy makeout ensues with nsfw elements. This time, can I request it with Jeff and Smiley (separately). If one or both characters don’t inspire you, feel free to choose any other male creeps!

Welcome back! I hope you enjoy this one too! ^-^ You've inspired others, because someone else also sent in your previous request asking for it with other creeps :) I love writing this type of stuff :p

Click here for a link to the previous version with Helen and Sully

Jeff:

Jeff tried to be good, he really did. You get him so excited so easily, and he knew he could be a bit too handsy and lustful sometimes, but on nights like tonight, when you had a big event plan, he always tried his best to be a good, supportive boyfriend, and keep his hands to himself. However, just because he tries, doesn't mean he succeeds, and he feels himself wavering in his determination the second you step out of the bathroom, all dressed up and positively glowing with confidence. Forcing himself to sit on his bed, legs crossed to hide the obvious predicament he's in, he tells you that you look incredible, his cheeks and ears flushed red, and he can't keep his eyes off of you. Normally, he'd give you a kiss goodbye and a big hug before you leave for anything, so you're a bit confused when he refuses to budge, saying you can just go ahead and get to your event.

"Babe, just give me a kiss goodbye." You state, quite unamused with his sudden coldness, but it's the thick swallow and look he gives you that clues you in on what's really happening. "If I give you a kiss, I'm gonna be honest, Sweetheart... You're not going to that event." He places the ball in your court. You could walk out the door, telling him goodbye and saying that you'll see him later, and all would be well and dandy... but you don't do that. No, instead you waltz right over to him, place yourself between his legs, and give him a deep, loving kiss that makes him lose all resistance immediately. His hands are on your body, your clothes are slipping off, and his back is on the bed before he can even breathe. He does try one last time to remind you of your event, but when you tell him you didn't really wanna go that badly anyway, he fully gives in and flips the two of you around, his clothes flying off even faster than yours had.

It's laughable how excited he is, and he knows that, so he only punishes you with a few nips to your skin when you break out in giggles, but goddamnit, with you looking that good how could he resist wanting to fuck you so bad? Giggles become replaced with moans, foreplay so easy when you got just as excited for him as he did you, and it wasn't long until your legs were pressed into your chest and he was doing his due diligence to fuck you as good as he physically could. At this rate, you were already coming up with plans of dressing up more often if it got him this riled up, but your plans would have to wait a few days considering the pain he'd give you, your neck and shoulders sore from so many bitemarks, your pelvis aching from the force of his thrusts that weren't going to stop anytime soon, not that either of you were complaining about it.

Smiley:

Really, you should know better. You should know better than to tease him, to tell him that he's missing out while posing in front of him in that gorgeous outfit, flaunting yourself with a wink. You should know better than to tauntingly tell him that you'll try and be back early enough to give him some attention, because really, you don't have to be back early if you never leave, right? Those are the words he ghosts over your skin as he slams his hand onto the door from behind you, shutting it before you can walk out. Before you could question him, you were spun around, your back hitting the door where his hand had just been, your legs already hoisted around his waist as he pressed you against it. You don't have the room to argue, do you?

When you were intentionally riling him up in the first place, when the look in your eyes says you want this just as much as he does, when your hands are already moving up his shoulders and curling into his hair. Any further complaints from you die when his lips find yours, and you instinctively lean forward to press your body against his. You hardly even notice his movements as he carries you over to the bed until your back hits the plush comforter, and he pulls away to remove the clothes that had started this ordeal in the first place. The look of satisfaction you give him has chuckles bubbling out of him that cause you to change your look into confusion, but the smirk and shake of his head he gives you confirms your growing suspicions that maybe you'd overdone it a bit this time. You should have known better than to tease him so much, to rile him up and look so cocky as if you were the one in control when really, he can make you so absolutely miserable with need, oh so easily. He has more patience than you do, and more self-control.

The first time he denies you an orgasm you think he's just going to do this a couple of times... and then the second denial hits, and the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, and by that point you're a sobbing mess on his bed, begging for him to just fuck you already, and he's chuckling at you again and looking at you with the same cocky arrogance you'd been displaying earlier, but he can't stand to see his precious little thing cry so much, so he gives you what you wanted, again, and again, and again, until you're crying again from the opposite reason. He's got patience, sure, but he's also an insatiable bastard, and he'll fuck you into the mattress until neither of you can handle it anymore, as a lesson to teach you not to tease him so much when you both know you're the one that's going to crack first. Although this isn't the first time he's taught you this lesson, and despite the fact that as your own personal doctor, he's gonna have to take care of you in the next few days from this, it certainly won't be the last.

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Hey, I've been following you for a long time now and I've never seen you complain or rant about literally anything but I genuinely wanted to ask your honest opinion about how you felt about episode 11 of thk like yes it was emotional but I'm asking you in terms of writing and directing side like Idk why it felt rushed and I'm a firstkhao fan so for me specially their scenes felt cut short with no problem dialogues given to them and that child intercepting them was it really needed?? It was the last 2nd episode more than that the whole day was really meaningful for them considering they will literally get to spend time together after 5 freaking years !! I know I'm sounding like a child complaining about such things but we have only an episode left and I feel like we still need 3-4 episodes considering the teaser they showed for the next episode!! Okay okay I'm done with my rant but really tell me how do you stay this positive regarding fk specially

Hello Anon, Welcome to my humble abode of me fangirling over FirstKhaotung, I guess? I am quite bemused that you (or anyone really) can follow my rambling mess.

Anyway, getting back to your asked – I can see you are somehow frustrated and perhaps a tad disappointed with the “lesser screen time” for KantBison compared to FadelStyle?

Writing and Directing for THK Ep 11 (and THK in general)

I won’t pretend I know anything about what is considered good screenwriting/script or directing. I will also admit that there are several things that I am puzzled by in THK. Certainly, there are some weak characterisations and general plot lines that sometimes doesn’t make sense. E.g – Captain Christ being able to promise only 5 years in prison sentence (my eyebrows shot up when he said that lol). And what about the whole Kant having Madam Lilly on tape doing villainy-stuffs – how? Did she really keep her own villainous act on tape – because I am assuming those evidence was the one Keen got for the boys at the beginning of the episode). Or perhaps we are just meant to use our media literacy skills and connect the dots that the tape is likely from Ruerat (which the brothers have successfully hidden him somewhere for the last few days until he is conveniently needed as a leeway for Captain Christ to “help” our besties). Plus, Captain Christ just letting Kant/Style getting away when they are complicit in helping our pair of hitmen.

So, like I say, plot holes. And let’s be honest, The Heart Killers as a series were never going to be an award-winning show per se (unlike P’Aof series that has now won his 3rd? consecutive best BL series in award shows. And judging from fan reactions of Gem4th upcoming series with him, he will have another winner on hand). But see, P’Aof shows have never quite hit the mark for me (I liked ATOS, Bad Buddy enough – we don’t speak about Last Twilight in my blog lol – as far as I am aware, that show ended in Ep 10).

However, what I am feeling when I watched Jojo’s series… is me being entertained every week (even when I am crying buckets in some scenes). And this is especially true with The Heart Killers. From the start, he has made it clear the genre is romantic comedy. He also made it clear the show is the “fantasy of how gay hitmen lives”. Just from that, I know the show will not take itself too seriously.  

Plus, if you know P’ Jojo CVs, you kinda know what to expect with his series – and I will sum it up as expect the unexpected and plot twists. 3WBF – Jennie’ partner died at the end. OF – Sand kissing Nick/Top. So, I was prepared for anything when the official THK trailer drop. When I saw the BDSM scene for example – many people were disappointed it wasn’t a “true” BDSM scene. But I personally think it added to the narrative because it showed the distrust between the 2 of them. Of course, it will be amazing for us to have another scene that will show what a BDSM with 2 partner who trust each other will be like. However, I am already impressed by how Jojo (and FirstKhaotung) successfully introduced the concept of safe word/basic BDSM etiquette to the largely conservative Thai audience (and while THK won legions of international fans, I am again reminding people when directors/Thai production houses produced BL shows, it is first and foremost catered for Thai audiences). Or what about the way the safe word is later used in a different, non-sexual manner between KantBison – this to me, gives depth (and again, unexpected twist!) to the writing of the show.

As for Ep 11 specifically – I think there were again some parts that can be improved but overall, it is a wonderful episode that contrast beautifully between our 2 couples while also highlighting how our 4 boys have stayed true to their characters. If there is one thing I am impressed about the script, it is how our 4 main characters stayed true to their inner personality even as we see them blossom once they fall in love. You talked about how KantBison scenes appear truncated, and they didn’t have in depth “problems” dialogues when compared to FadelStyle scenes. See, part of the “problems dialogues” as you mentioned have already been addressed during their stay in Bison’s island – in fact, I will argue Ep 8-9 were particularly focusing on those – from Kant/Bison talking about their trauma and fear, their family members/ the past and what they wished for their futures. However, we didn’t get this from FadelStyle Ep 8-9 (their scenes took a comedic tone to off set the heaviness in KantBison scenes). By end of Ep 9, Fadel’s past remains a mystery (we don’t even know much about his parents/past beyond he had an ex, which he finally told Style about).

So, I am not surprised the scenes for Fadelstyle in Ep 10-11 appears “heavier” when compared to KantBison who are now largely on the same page. We still got amazing scenes like KantBison sweet date in the rock/space museum (and again them continuing to learn about each other – Bison is into astronomy while Kant loves history and archaeology – and isn’t it poetic one loves the sky & stars while the other is rooted to the ground?). The “almost proposal scene” was sweet and yes, it is slightly irritating we have our young interloper (Oskar, you are doing great honey!) killing the mood – I think Jojo meant it as the comedic tone to cut the heaviness in FadelStyle scenes who is finally opening up to Style about how he felt about himself (the self-loathing from Fadel, the way he calmly just told Style – ‘that’s my headstone when I die’ or him telling Style why he goes to the support group meetings etc.)

And it stays true to the boys’ nature – Kant choosing Bison’s date to be lighter and fun because out of the 4 of them, Bison is the more childlike and naïve (him being hitman doesn’t change that). Similarly, it stays true to Fadel’s nature that he chooses to bring Style to his pre-dug graveyard and support group place (or being more physical – like the paintball scene, which is also a nod to the scene in 10 Things I hate about You).

And let me bring even more parallel between the 2 couples:

KantBison heartfelt conversation when Bison talked about the MilkyWay followed by Kant saying he will name a star for Bison so that the latter will be reminded of him. While Bison then softly said he just wants to be in Kant’s heart followed by the scene of them exchanging tattoos (plus Kant saying – The story of you and me will be etched on my skin forever) – that is the equivalent of them exchanging wedding vows and rings (the rings being the penguin/puffins tattoos – did you know penguin/puffins mate for life? I only learn of this fact 😂, and I find it romantic the boys chose them as their matching tattoos. Plus penguin is the safe word for Kant, I’m sure he has also associated it with home)

Similarly, the FadelStyle scene of them cooking together (with Fadel professing he wants to do something he loves with Style) and them having their last dinner meal together through tears – with Style stating he will never forget the taste of the burger. Style narrating the things he will never forget about Fadel – from being shot on the run together to them kissing each other in the sea (doesn’t that read to you like wedding vows a spouse will say before saying “I do”?). Them feeding each other their burgers is the equivalent of them feeding each other wedding cake.

And while you didn’t specifically mention this, I am also very appreciative of the scenes we have of Kant and Style – it really highlights how they are not just besties, but also brothers. The way they beautifully cornered Lilly (Kant/Style looked flawless in those outfits) to them both finding ways to have the upper hand of Captain Christ as a backup plan (Style by making the fake passports while Kant staying true to his nature – slyly obtaining blackmailed material of the captain – and it’s quite telling isn’t it even with them asking for the Captain’s help, both of them instinctively do not trust him, hehe).  Personally, my favourite scene for the whole episode is Style breaking apart in Kant’s arms while Kant is trying hard to hold it together when his heart is also shattered into pieces while their loves ones are taken to prison.

Teaser for Finale/Ep 12 and what I expect to see

Also, anon – we still have EP 12. Not only are we getting our unhinged besties volunteering in prison (unexpected twist by Jojo again!) – I am hoping we will have sex scenes from all 4 boys (or at least heavy make out scenes lol), but one of the assistant director that usually post BTS of the show actually mentioned there are so many BTS photos of FK he wants to put but he could only do so during the finale (which kind of hint that we are getting good scenes from them!)

Plus, Khaotung mentioned in the recent fanmeet, he/First will be slow dancing on stage (and don’t we have the BTS footage of our couples slow dancing in the series)?

Also, don’t forget, we still haven’t got the “sweet scene” of our boys (in their boxers) in Kant’s bed (both Jojo and First confirmed there is another scene on that bed)

Bonus if I can get actual proposals/weddings but otherwise, I will take what we have from Ep 11 as them being married, and they just need to make it official once they are out of prison.

As for your comment on THK will benefit from another 3-4 episodes – look, in general, I think most Thai BLs can benefit from more episodes (The Eclipse was meant to have 14 episodes but due to budget constraint, they had to make do with 12). That’s the reality, while the quality of Thai BLs are improving over time – compared to mainstream media in Thai (we won’t even mentioned Western media), the budgets for Thai BLs/queer media in general are limited. Even more so for the show that Jojo tends to produce. Did you realise his shows doesn’t have or very limited sponsors? (for example, we don’t see Lay chips/Oishi Teas or the boys blatantly putting on sunscreens to “promote” the sponsors of the shows?). And for that, I will forgive some inconsistencies, sloppiness and plot holes because they don’t have bottomless budgets.

***I am going to put here – when Cat for Cash starts airing – see people start complaining about the “ads/sponsors” being on blatant displays during the show when its those ads that supplement the budget for the show

Staying positive regarding FK (and BL world in general)

So, I’m not sure your last sentence has more meaning than just FK general presence in THK? Are you perhaps alluding to fans in Twitter crying war with how jobless FK is when compared to other GMTMV CPs? Or how they don’t have a reality TV show of their own? Or brand sponsorships? Or how Somsoms are not pulling their weight on trending on Twitter? (if you are, well – I have my own thoughts/views of this particular matter, which I am not going to elaborate in this ask).

But, if you are asking how I stay positive in general, I made a promise to myself – if I really dislikes something, I will give myself 24 hours before writing/saying anything I will regret🫣. And most of the time, the things I am angry about just seems trivial after that. I also block a lot of users who are just blatantly prejudice against Thai BL (ok, in general, GMMTV productions) – if you have been in the tumblr long enough, you will know a specific group that should not be named (they are my Voldemort) who prided themselves as unbiased “academics” and write long meta essays that frankly highlights their biases even more.

I also work in the medical field – and well, having to deal with anxious (sometimes very angry) patients/family members means I have abundance of patience (and when I ran out of them, I know it times for me take a holiday 😅)

Anyway, I am always reminded that we consume media for fun – don’t take things so seriously. And personally, FK being their lovely self on social media is enough to make me happy. They have never expressed any hatred/criticism towards their work/GMMTV. I also think it is quite telling that none of the Thai fans have mentioned any dissatisfaction with the scenes we have of FK or series, so far?

(Can’t resist putting up our KantBison pictures hehe)

[lillaydee]

The Unlucky One Part 3

Joel Miller (No Outbreak AU) / F Reader

When it comes to love, Lady Luck seems to have lost your address. After being left at the altar without so much of an explanation, you decided love is no longer something you are interested in. Not even meeting an unlucky-in-love-himself Mr. Grump could change your mind.

Right?

Let me know if you want to be tagged, or if you want to be removed from the tag list.

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Idiots in Love, unlucky in love, Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us)

@peelieblue, @vickie5446, @harriedandharassed, @lovefreylove @martuxduckling @kikookii

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 2

---

When you got to your room, Maria came bounding towards you, looking a bit guilty. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt like going out? I wouldn’t have said yes to Tommy.”

“I want you to have fun, you goose. You’re on holiday. I, on the other hand, needed a reason not to think about being dumped, so…” you lifted the many, many, many filled bags you had brought back with you.

“Ooh!” she squealed, looking far too excited to help you with your shopping. She cooed at the souvenirs, asking you if you could take her with you the next time you go. She blabbered on about random stuff as you changed, following you around the suite, even talking at you through the semi closed bathroom door as you peed and showered, all the while with a strange smile on her face. It was all a bit odd. Finally, you sat in front of her and asked her point blank – what’s going on, Maria?

“Well, Tommy’s brother didn’t join us. I heard he went out today. And he sent a picture of some fried rice to Tommy, the place looked suspiciously like the place you sent the soupy thing from. You have something to tell me?” she couldn’t even keep her face straight.

“No.”

“Oh, come on… it’s me… you were out with him, weren’t you?”

“No, I wasn’t. We were at the same place. But I was not ‘with him’. We just happened to eat in the same restaurant. Different tables.”

“Oh…” she said, looking a bit defeated.

“I don’t even know the guy’s name, Maria. He’s just someone I happened to share a dinner table with yesterday, and a car with today.”

“You know, I can ask Tommy about him, make sure he’s not a loon? Do you know his name? Does he know yours?” You rolled your eyes at her. “He’s so good looking, though. And so quiet. You know what they say about the quiet ones…”

“Maria…”

“I’m not asking you to do anything crazy… maybe, hang out with him a bit. He might help distract you from everything. And you know, we have like five more days here. Who knows?”

“Maria, I love you, but… less than a week ago, I was supposed to get married to who I thought was the love of my life. I still don’t know what happened. I haven’t even heard from him. And you saw how his family left. They were furious. I don’t even have the slightest comprehension of what it was that I did wrong. No one would tell me anything. I’m so lost it’s insane. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I am on what was supposed to be my honeymoon. Heck, I don’t even know if I’m single now. He ghosted me. I have no idea if he got cold feet, or he just needed more time, or he’s completely done with me. Am I even single? I don’t even know that! I don’t want this whole thing to come back and haunt me.”

She watched as you ranted, a clear sadness written all over her face. She got up after a while and called someone on the room phone, ordered food for the room and the two of you had a slumber party, watching movie after movie. At one point, you asked her why she was spending her vacation in the room with you. She should go have some fun with her long-haired southerner, while she still could.

“Nah babes,” she said, tucking your hair behind your ears, “You’re my ride or die, I’m staying here because you need me here right now. He can wait.”

“What if I need you here all the way ‘til we have to leave?”

“Then see you whenever, Tommy. Been nice knowing you!” she said, tipping an invisible hat at the door, earning her a kiss and a hug from you.

Really, at this point, you had no idea what you would’ve done if she hadn’t agreed to come with you on this trip.

The two of you talked over the TV, argued about who’s right and wrong in the movies, laughed ‘til you both couldn’t see, and cried in each other’s arms until both of you fell asleep, far too early for a holiday.

You were awaken by the pinging on your phone.

3.45am.

Andrew.

You sat up so quickly Maria woke up from your movement. Her confusion quickly turned to concern at your expression.

You had been texting or calling him multiple times since the wedding. Begging him to call you, text you back, at least let you know why. You deserved that at least. It felt like you sent him hundreds of texts those first three days. He blocked you. You used your Dad’s, Franks, Maria’s, his family’s phones to text him, Kyle texted him on your behalf, Ethan too, they all got blocked as well. You were so confused.

You were a great partner, you treated him like a fucking king. You paid your half of the mortgage and bills, despite only free lancing, you had a job that kept you busy, sometimes busier than him when certain times of the year came, and still, the meals in the house was all your doing, be it ordering or cooking, you ironed his clothes for him, gave him massages at night, scheduled his appointments for him, you even packed his fucking lunches. And he ghosted you without an explanation. You were not even worth that to him.

By the third day, when his family left in a huff for whatever reason, you got the picture. He believed you had wronged him in a huge manner, and his family believed him. If he had simply gotten cold feet, they wouldn’t have been that angry at you. His sweet, sweet mother wouldn’t have practically ripped the heirloom ring that was on your finger. His father wouldn’t have spat at your Dad, calling him a failure of a man, unable to even raise a daughter right. Even if his sister seemed apologetic and looked a bit sorry to leave you like that, she didn’t have the power to say anything, seeing as everyone else was so determined to get out of there as soon as they could.

But without a definite answer from him, you hoped.

So you decided not to harass him anymore, believing that he would get back to you when he was ready. You packed your bags and left for Bali that evening, thinking that you would call him when you came back, and God knows you needed a vacation after the whiplash that was your supposed wedding day. Surely, he would’ve cooled off by then. And if he hadn’t, you had to believe that when the time was right, he would let you know. And when you had more information, the two of you could work out the details of where your relationship would go from there.

Surely?

But his text, that single text he sent you on the third day on what was supposed to be your honeymoon, was not what you expected at all.

“Having fun in Bali with that very single friend of yours? Don’t think I don’t know what you guys are up to. I know she would’ve persuaded you to fuck someone by now. I should’ve known. You didn’t even try hard to reach me, or find me, did you? Three days? That’s all the trying I deserve from you? Well, looks like I’m right about you. This is all the confirmation I need. I want you out of the house before the end of next week. I’ll even make the process easier for you. Hope he was worth it. Goodbye.”

Maria pursed her lips together reading the text. Your insides felt cold. Hollow. You were having a hard time digesting what you had just read.

So there was a supposed man he thought you were involved with. Who? And he ghosted you. Blocked you. And suddenly he was the wronged one? He was the one who wasn’t being coaxed enough? Begged to enough? It’s your fault now? For trying to give him some space?

Who was this guy? This was not the Andrew you fell in love with.

Maria’s hand on your shoulder snapped you back to reality. “You okay?” she asked.

You nodded, jumping a little when the room phone rang. Your wake up call for the hike. You got out of bed to get ready, Maria asking you where you were going.

It was a mark of how serious your face looked at that point that she didn’t even make any sly remarks about you going for an early morning hike with the Grump. She walked you to the elevator, hugging you tight, telling you to call her if you need anything. You just nodded at her as the doors closed.

**********

When you got to the lobby, the Grump was already there, staring at his phone. Something was off with his demeanour, you could tell, even from the back. He seemed bothered, saddened, hardened. You had an accidental glimpse at what he was looking at, an Insta Story of a… party? When he realized you were passing him, he quickly turned the phone off and joined you to wait for Pak Rahman, who was due any minute.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Morning.”

And then the two of you were just quiet. Each in your own thoughts. Even as Pak Rahman pulled up, the two of you quietly greeted him and got in, buckled up and the ride went smoothly without any small talks from the two of you. It was as if the two of you knew to leave each other alone, mulling in your own worries, and completely understood the unspoken assignment.

After a short 30 minutes’ drive, probably so due to the lack of traffic, Pak Rahman pulled up at a small parking lot in a small village. There were maybe another car or two there, but no tourist busses. He gave both of you a hiking stick and a head torch, asking the two of you to stay close to him. He was casually dressed in his slacks and some sandals, a simple bag slung on his shoulders, while you and the Grump looked like typical tourists, complete with hats and boots and gloves, not to mention backpacks laden with bottled water, snacks and towels.

The trail was not a difficult one, it wasn’t even a long one, maybe 30 minutes of steady incline, but even before sunrise, the humidity got to you and the Grump. Pak Rahman was patient, waiting for the two of you to catch up, hardly out of breath as you and the Grump were steadily breathing heavier and heavier as you went along. The Grump stayed with you, offering you a helping arm every now and again, asking you if you were okay once or twice, but other than that, he was quiet.

When you got to the top, you each took a spot of your own, away from each other, drinking from your bottles, waiting for the sunrise. You didn’t have to wait long, before you could even finish that second bottle, the sky lightened, the black turned to deep, dark blue, before turning greenish, then yellowish, tinged with the slightest of pink, before the orange hues of sunrise blossomed from the horizon, clear and unobstructed from the top of that small hill.

It was magnificent.

It was so quiet up there you could almost hear the sun say hello.

So quiet, your thoughts soon became so loud, you couldn’t ignore them.

You could’ve been here with him. The man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. Suddenly, you realized that you didn’t know how he would react to this. You had no knowledge of what this man’s preference would have been. Would he have enjoyed this? He didn’t even want to walk the farmer’s market with you. You always went alone. He went with you once, but the sight of the crowd made him change his mind, and he waited in the car for you instead.

Your holidays had been in cities. But when discussing the honeymoon, he asked you to surprise him, which in turn, surprised you. So you chose Bali, going all out to make it the best honeymoon you could have. Now that you thought about it, he might not even like Bali. He didn’t even want to go to your Dad’s beach house. When you did, he stayed at the house.

So why the fuck did you choose Bali?

God, did you even know him?

Suddenly you felt stupid. You actually thought you were happy. You thought he was the man of your dreams. It took that text this morning, those cruel words from him for your rose-coloured glasses to come off. Cause while you thought you were happy, he thought you were with someone else. And he was so shady about the whole thing you didn’t even know who he was talking about, what evidence he had.

You didn’t have that many friends. The happy life you thought you had was his – his friends, his family. And now, when you go back home, you would be alone. None of the gang you used to hang out with had contacted you since the wedding. You had no idea if they knew the whole story, but if they did, they clearly believed him and was taking his side, or if they didn’t, they didn’t care enough about you in the first place to check on you.

And right now, you couldn’t decide which was worse.

You were brought out of your own thoughts when you were having trouble breathing. You were practically sobbing, alone by the tree you had chosen to hide yourself from others. The sun had come out now, the view so glorious, you decided to put Andrew and your failed attempt at happiness at the back of your mind for now and enjoy yourself. Not like you were going to come back anytime soon. You wiped your face clean, finished your water, and got up to see the Grump doing the same from his chosen tree.

Like yours, his face told a story. His eyes were red, his face rather splotchy. You handed him a wet wipe, which he gratefully accepted, thanking you, before cleaning his own face and finishing his water.

“You okay?” you asked him, tentative in your tone, unsure if he wanted you to notice his state of mind.

He nodded a little, “You?”

You nodded.

“Ready to go?” Pak Rahman asked.

“You know any good breakfast spot?” the Grump asked him, and he happily nodded, leading the way down.

By the time you got back to the car, you felt a lot better. The Grump did too, apparently, laughing with you on the way down as he told you about the little frog that kept him company on his lap as he watched the sunrise, only realizing its presence when the sun was fully up.

“You should’ve kissed it. Maybe it was your soulmate in disguise,” you said, as he guffawed at the thought. Pretty sure it was poisonous, he said.

Breakfast was delicious, and Pak Rahman smiled as he went off to get the car, having noticed that the two of you were eating off each other’s plates as if you had done so your entire lives.

**********

On your drive back, you noticed one of the soap shops you had googled, and begged Pak Rahman to stop, only to find that the shop wasn’t open for a few more hours. We could come back later, the Grump said to you, as if it was the most natural thought to him, that the two of you would return together, and not you alone. He seemed to have clocked your thought and quickly backtracked, telling you that his brother and your friend could join you, he was sure they would like to see the town a little bit too?

And that was how the four of you ended up back at the shop after having the most amazing lunch by an actual paddy field in the middle of what passed as downtown Bali, your tummies too full to even stand straight, you and Maria were basically leaning on each other as you entered the shop. The two men went to another shop, one that sold furniture, of all things, and stayed there for quite a while.

Now that you knew you were not going back to that house, you decided that you were going to buy all the soap you wanted anyway. Maybe you’ll find another place that had an amazing bathroom, and you could fill that little bathtub Ethan got you with all these amazing smelling soaps. You took one of every colour and smell you could find, not to mention lotions and shower gels and oils. You were going to be surrounded by this nice vacation at your new home if it was the last thing you did.

When Tommy and the grump returned, they were a little taken aback by the weight of your shopping bags, Maria quickly explaining that you were a soap hound, joking how easy it was to shop for you. Soap. And you would be happy. The men dropped off your shopping with Pak Rahman before going with you and Maria to sight see a little bit, Tommy and Maria walking ahead of you and the Grump, looking very comfortable with each other.

You found a shaded spot by the beach Maria and Tommy were drawn to, the Grump sitting with you, handing you a cold bottle of water.

“I want to thank you for this morning,” he said. You looked at him, perplexed. What did he mean? “You could’ve pried, but you didn’t.”

Ah… he meant the splotchy face and the wet wipes.

“Thank you for not prying on me either,” you said. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way.”

“You didn’t,” he said, shaking his head a bit. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

You shook yours.

“When are you leaving?” he asked.

“Sunday.”

He nodded, “Friday,” he said, when you looked at him questioningly.

You didn’t know why, exactly, but it made you feel sad.

“I can’t be away too long. This trip was… spur of the moment. Needed to get away,” he explained. “Turns out, I couldn’t get away if I tried,” he mumbled, looking away, taking a drink from his bottle.

“I know what you mean.”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“Same old, same old, came here to be free off certain things back home, but with technology… home came right with you.”

“Tell me about it.”

The two of you were quiet for a beat.

“Listen, I was wondering if you would spend some time with me tomorrow? Before I leave Friday? I have a feeling my brother and your friend are going to be busy,” he said, raising his chin at your friend, who was now busily lip locked with Tommy.

You snorted, shaking your head a little.

“Sure, why not?”

“I’m Joel, by the way, Joel Grump,” he said, offering his massive hand to you.

Why not? You were single now, right?

“Aria, Aria Grump.” You shook his hand, and the two of you said hi to each other, remarking on the similar last names, laughing as you did.

“Light dinner tonight? I’ll make the reservations,” he said.

Sure, why the hell not?

The two of you enjoyed a some light dinner at one of the bars at the hotel that night, your best friend and Tommy busy somewhere else. The bar had a live band, and seeing as it was still early, played some slow rock and old classic songs. You and Joel somehow managed to avoid talking personal life stuff, sharing music preferences and memories of your youth listening to the songs your Dads listened to.

Heck, you two were comfortable enough to sit side by side with your shoulders touching, swaying together to the gentle music, speaking into each other’s ears, his beard and moustache giving you goosebumps as he did.

Such a difference to that first night you spent with him.  

He walked you to your room, telling you he will see you at breakfast, and you closed the door realizing that you were very much looking forward to his company the next day.

**********

You woke up to a text from Maria, telling you that she was safe, was alive, and that she would see you Friday – as in, after Tommy had left. You laughed, shaking your head a little at your friend’s obvious crush on Tommy. Well, at least one of you was having a nice vacation.

You had breakfast with Joel, taking plates of different foods from the buffet, sharing them with him. You didn’t know why, but you felt very comfortable very quickly with him. He wasn’t pushy, was gentle, kind, and funny, despite your nickname for him.

Pak Rahman, reliable as ever, took you to another part of town today. You and Joel walked around, him holding the massive umbrella Pak Rahman had supplied him over your heads. You had lunch together, again, unconsciously sharing your meals together, before perusing more shops to spend your money in, him pointing out the different hand made soap shops along the way, patiently following you with a basket while you tried hard to refrain from buying everything your eyes landed on.

You found a massage spot, where they apparently gave very good foot massages. Although reluctant, Joel agreed to get one with you, cringing next to you as the tiny lady massaged his feet with powers beyond his imagination. At one point, he was so taken aback by the pressure the lady had used on him he grabbed your hand for support, his forehead sweating from pain, letting go of your hand only when the massage was over, sulking good naturedly as you laughed at him.

“Give me a break,” he pouted, “It’s my first massage ever,” he said.

“You cannot tell me that did not feel good.”

He cringed slightly, his shoulder raised, but finally conceded that his feet, which had been hurting from the hike and all the walking around Bali, did feel a lot better. But he drew a line when you suggested a head and shoulder massage, blushing a little. He shook his head as you paid for the massages, mumbling to himself that it took travelling to Bali for him to find someone convincing enough to make him try a massage, and he didn’t even get to pay for it.

The two of you spent the rest of the day enjoying each other’s company before going back to the hotel. You two actually walked into the lobby laughing, hearts light from a fabulous day spent together. Pak Rahman told Joel he would be waiting for Joel at 9.00am to take him and his brother to the airport, and for you to just call him if you needed a lift anywhere.

And just like that, your smiles were wiped off your faces, and your hearts felt heavy again. The elevator ride to your suite was quiet. You wanted to cry.

Silly woman, you didn’t even know him. He could be a psycho, for all you knew. You lived with Andrew for three years, and you had just found out how petty he could be. Let’s not delude yourself to think this Joel Grump could be any different. And with your luck, he could be gay for all you knew.

He walked you to your door, placing your shopping bags just inside.

“Well, any chance I’ll see you at breakfast?” he asked. You may have been imagining it, but there was a hopeful tone to his question.

“Maybe,” you said, nodding.

“Okay,” he said. “See you then?”

“Okay.”

And with that, he turned around and left, his own shopping bags flung over his shoulder.

**********

You stood with your head on the door for a while. You didn’t want to say goodbye to him. But what were you supposed to do? You didn’t know him from Adam. But your heart kept telling you to go to him, get his number, his last name, anything. Anything that didn’t mean goodbye tomorrow.

‘Are you crazy?’ your mind screamed at your heart. ‘You just broke up with someone. You were supposed to be on your honeymoon. And if things go bad, what then? If he knew where to find you, what the fuck were you going to do to get away from him?’

‘But he could be nice,’ your heart coaxed. ‘Not all men are bad,’ it said.

‘And mothers and sisters are supposed to be selfless and loving but look at ours. With our luck, he might break our heart tonight.’

You peeled yourself away from the door, taking the shopping bags into your room, depositing them on the bed and went in to take a shower. When you came out, clad in a bathrobe, you tipped one of the bags’ contents onto your bed, and a slew of coconut shell ashtrays and keychains fell out.

Wait a minute, you didn’t buy these.

They must be Joel’s.

You should return them.

‘But you didn’t know where his room was. Just the floor,’ your mind said.

‘There are only so many rooms on each floor. Try them all!’ your heart defended.

‘Or you could just return them to him at breakfast tomorrow. Or better yet, leave them with the reception, they’ll return them,’ your mind supplying more logical excuses for you to not give in to your heart’s desire.

Yeah, you could just go down to the lobby and ask the reception to return them to him.

So you quickly got dressed, spritzed some perfume on, you never know, you didn’t want to smell bad in the elevator, and walked out of the room.

As you entered the elevator, your finger automatically pressed his floor number. Oh well, might as well, your heart said, but you could feel your mind banging its head on the wall.

The elevator door opened, and you stepped outside, only to come face to face with Joel, who looked freshly showered, holding a shopping bag in his hand.

He looked flustered, “Erm, I took one of your bags by mistake,” he said, offering the bag to you.

“Yeah, I came to return one of yours,” you told him, offering it to him, feeling yourself turn red.

As the exchange happened, your fingers brushed, and he took a step closer to you.

Fuck he smelled so good.

Fuck, you smelled so good.

And just like that, both of you surged towards each other, shopping bags banging on your backs, lips locked, devouring each other, as he backed you to his room, growling frustratedly as he tried again and again to unlock the door with his card, to no avail.

“That’s your credit card,” you said, licking his neck.

“Fuck!” he almost screamed, producing the right card and finally opening the door.

The two of you laughed as you stumbled inside, him kicking the door shut, immediately backing you towards the bed, both shopping bags discarded on the floor.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, “I’ve never done this before, not with a practical stranger,” he continued, before asking again if you were sure.

You could only nod before your lips found his again. Fuck, he’s a good kisser. The two of you fell on his bed, hands tearing at each other’s clothes, before he stopped and looked you in the eyes. By the time he kissed you again, the urgency of the situation was gone, gentle, slow kisses took it’s place, as your hands caressed each other’s bodies, nice and slow.

‘What are you doing?’ you mind screamed.

‘Oh, lighten up, he’s hot and we’re on holiday, besides, it felt right,’ your heart protested.

Oh, fuck it. You only lived once, you thought, as his kisses moved from your lips to your neck, your eyes closed at the sensation, enjoying what would become your first one night stand.

**********

You woke up to Joel spooning you, his breaths slow and steady on your neck.

Fuck last night was amazing. You could say, without a shadow of a doubt – that was the best sex you’d ever had. 'Which one exactly? The first one, the second? The third?', your heart asked, while your mind rolled its eyes. All of them, you thought. All of them was the best sex you’d ever had, all better than the last.

You turned to face him, and he very quickly engulfed your entire body in his arms, nose unconsciously nuzzling the top of your head as he did so.

Why did you feel so comfortable with him? Took you months to be comfortable enough with Andrew to sleep with him, going back to your own rented apartment night after night to sleep. And yet, here you were, just, cozy and at home in this stranger’s arms.

And you were going to savour it.

He asked you if he could have your number last night, but you said you needed to think about it. He gave you his card, which you placed on your nightstand face down without looking at it, giving in to his caresses for round three.

His phone rang, and he quickly turned to get it off his nightstand, unaware you were awake. You saw the lit up screen in the darkened room.

It was a FaceTime request, from ‘Tess’, a picture of a beautiful, smiling woman accompanying it.

Your heart stilled. You closed your eyes, pretending to still be asleep as he got up, turning his head to look at you as he quickly extracted himself out of the bed as gently as he could, wrapping his bathrobe around his middle, answering the call as he made his way out to the balcony.

“Hi Baby,” he cooed, as he slid the balcony door closed behind him. "Yeah, I'm up. I miss you," you heard him mumble just as the door closed shut.

Fuck. He had someone waiting for him at home. A Tess. A Tess whom he missed. A Tess whom he called Baby.

You had never gotten dressed so quickly in your life. You heard him laugh with this Tess from the balcony, making your heart clench. You picked up the shopping bag, making sure it was yours, and looked at the card he gave you, still face down on the night stand, deciding to leave it.

Just as well.

You couldn’t help yourself from peeking through the slit in the curtain as his laugh became clearer and clearer, crooning a soft, delicate bye to this Baby of his, telling her he loved her. You saw a gorgeous woman on his phone screen, laughing along with him.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You picked up your shoes and ran out, taking the stairs up to the next floor for the elevator, lest he caught up with you, feeling stupider than you had ever felt in your entire life, and that was saying something.  

‘I told you so,’ your mind chastised.

Yeah, mind, yeah, you did.

---

Part 4

[buckyschair]

i hate it when you apologize to someone for something minor and the vibe of their response is like “that was the right answer” … like obviously i agree bc i fucking initiated a convo about it but why are you making it into a power dynamic thing

[puppppppppy]

footnotes arent enough I need you to talk to me like im fucking Amelia Bedelia

[dadbots]

cold as shit & freezing my ass off in this winter (But at least we made it to December.)

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[fandom-go-round]

Realizing They're in Love: Reader x BG3

Warnings: Implied Internal Trauma, Personal Relationship Issues, Gross Stuff like Falling in Love

Astarion:

            He argues with himself for a long time before love comes to mind. It’s bad enough that he’s starting to like you but love? That’s just going to make things even harder. Astarion feels like the more he tries to talk himself out of it, the worse it gets. You corner him after dinner one night and he smiles, turning up the charm. You ignore his nervousness, giving him a simple wooden box. He immediately fills with dread; you want something. Of course you do. He’s not expecting there to be a book inside, the next one in the series he’s reading. You assure him that you don’t want anything in return, giving him a gentle smile before heading to your own tent. His heart thunders in his chest, fingers trailing over the cover. He’s not in love, Astarion tells himself as he goes to start the book. He can’t be but… if he is, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. Not with you.

Gale:

            He’s not against falling in love per say, Gale just isn’t looking. Honestly he’s not. This is more social interaction than he’s had in years and he’s not trying to fuck it up, thank you very much. That doesn’t mean he can’t forget himself, especially when you start asking him questions about magic. Gale loves magic most of all and he only realizes he’s been ranting after twenty minutes. He winces, scolding himself mentally and turns to you. You’re both sitting on the floor of his tent, sipping tea in the early afternoon. He fully anticipates that you’re going to half awake, bored to tears and doing something else. Instead, you’re staring at him with rapt attention, eyes bright and small smile on your face. When he’s silent for too long you ask him to keep going, asking if he’ll keep explaining. Gale is more than happy to continue, something warm in his chest. He hopes that you’ll keep looking at him that way even after he stops talking. And you do.

Halsin:

            Loud barks and hoots draw Halsin’s attention, the druid looking up from his papers. You’re a bit away from camp, Scratch and the owlbear cub playing with you. The three of you are chasing each other and wrestling, the cub slamming into the back of your knees. Halsin watches you go flying before laughing and grabbing the cub as best you can. You half swing him around, Scratch barking as you send his friend flying. The owlbear cub gives a roar, rolling through the grass and you laugh, chasing after the dog now. Halsin can’t help but smile; you’re so kind of everyone around you and he enjoys that you can relax. He hasn’t been ignorant to the feelings developing in his chest, just focusing on different things. The warmth he feels only grows as he watches you and he vows to talk about it. Halsin is sure he recognizes the looks you send him; he just needs to find the right time.  

Karlach:

            She realizes she’s in love after a tough fight. Her blood is still pumping and she wants more enemies to show up so she can have an excuse to go wild. You’re joking around with Wyll on the other side of the battlefield, the warlock turning to say something to you. You offer a smile and begin to hike up the slope and trip. Karlach watches in slow motion as you land hard on your ass, sliding down mud straight into the river. Wyll is frozen on the edge of the bank and she quickly makes he way over, worried that you’re injured. By the time she gets over there, you’re laughing loudly, head thrown all the way back. Her heart skips a beat; you’re covered in blood and mud and all sorts of gunk but all she can see is the right smile on your face. She’s in love.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel doesn’t call it love. It’s admiration, respect for your skills. There are very few people she would follow verses leading herself and she admits that you’re good at it. She also enjoys the sex and that’s always a bonus. The sun is just beginning to go down and you stop on the edge of a cliff to watch. Lae’zel turns to scold you (the group needs to get back to camp) but she’s struck by your figure. You look like a painting, noble and steadfast. Your face is determined but not tense, taking in the sunset. There’s something in your eyes, something softer than she expects and it takes her breath away. She swears to herself and turns away, missing the affectionate look you send her. She’s doesn’t call it love, even if deep, deep down she wishes she could.

Shadowheart:

            Night has finally fallen on a long, long day. Shadowheart is thankful that you’re the one with her on first watch tonight; your silence isn’t looming as she prays and the sound of sharpening blades is soothing. There isn’t the need to fill the silence with noise and it feels calm in a way that’s unfamiliar. Usually she finds the night comfortable but cold, like an winter breeze. You’re like the night but warm, a balm on an open wound. She smiles as she watches you, not looking away when you meet her eyes. You smile and she’s filled with affection, even as her hand throbs. The pain is worth it; you make her feel truly seen.

Wyll:

            You’re crouched by a small cave, voice low and arm outstretched. The group had just finished a fight, a camp overrun with bandits. Wyll scowled to himself, looking over the bodies strewed over the ground. The people had been innocent and he wished he had been faster. Movement catches the corner of his vision and he turns, watching as, slowly, a child comes out of the cave. They’re covered in dirt and blood but you smile and they take you hand. Wyll can’t the stop the soft look from coming onto his face as you begin the check for wounds. The world can be a dark place but you give him hope; it’s more than he deserves.

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

------------------------------

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[defmaybe]

That's So True

12 Days of Christmas: Day 10, January 3rd, 2025

aespa’s Uchinaga Aeri/Giselle & Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

5.3k words

Christmas Masterlist

The chatterings of the party goers fill the house, with a faint hint of Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True hanging in the air. The place reeks of cheap perfume (you added the cheap part by yourself, you really don’t know which is expensive and which is not), beer, and rum.

You’re somewhere in the house, playing a game with your friends, and your friends of friends. The bottle spins, as the players are watching it expectantly, anticipating the next candidate for truth or dare. It slows down, and the sounds of people’s breath hitching can be heard as the tip of the bottle goes near them.

(The stake here isn’t anything more than shame, really. Still, it’s a pretty huge predicament for college students.)

Finally, it stops, claiming Yoo Jimin as its victim. You watch her whine in slight disappointment, but there’s a glint, there’s a glint in her eyes that shows something more—excitement.

“Truth,” Jimin says.

You’ve always considered yourself lucky to be within Jimin’s radius, even if it’s just being a friend of a friend. There’s the obvious—her gorgeous, angelic features. You swear you can just look at her face all day without doing anything else, and that would’ve been enough for you.

Then, there’s her personality. It’s another thing you’ve always admired. She’s a leader, a goddamn 4.00 achiever, the perfect epitome of a student. She’s a debate team president, and now she’s sitting in the same circle as you, playing truth or dare, ready to be asked the most embarrassing questions.

“So,” Beomgyu begins, tapping his knees in a rhythm. He’s the faculty’s drummer, after all. “Alright, I couldn’t think of the question. My bad, guys”

The others watch Beomgyu with a slightly annoyed expression (they still love him, of course).

“Don’t start if you don’t know how to continue, man,” Jimin scoffs, turning to others for a spark to her question. “So, anyone?”

Nothing seems to run through your mind at the moment. You’re not an idea kind of person, to say. Your mind is blank.

“What is the worst–” Taehyun utters, but he seems lost on where to go next. The words hang in the air without closure “–fuck.”

“Is that fuck an exclamation, or it’s a part of the question, huh?” Jimin playfully teases him. “I mean, I can answer that if it’s the latter~”

God, she’s so charismatic.

Taehyun chuckles. “I’ll go with the second choice, then,” he says.

Jimin lets out a mischievous smirk. “Well, this is about two years ago, more or less,” she starts her story, as everyone in the circle gathers around to listen intently.

“I was fucking a guy, riding him like crazy. He was whimpering and moaning and all that stuff, you know? I thought he was perfect, being a submissive little slut like that,” Jimin says, an expression of wrath forming on her face. Fuck, she looks so hot when she’s mad. “I’m still mad at him, goddamn it.”

You only nod along with the story like the others, listening to her carefully.

“Everything was going so damn well. God, I even remember how he moaned like a bitch, ‘Nghhh~ Jimin, your pussy feels so good. Jimin, I’m your little man-whore, nghhh~’, like that,” Jimin mocks the poor man’s words while also mimicking the riding movement. You can see her breasts moving along with her motion.

This is fucking arousing. You’re starting to feel the tent inside your pants forming. Imagine being Jimin’s little man-whore like that, watching her tits jiggling while she’s on your cock. A few more shots and you could’ve been drooling all over the floor, being a laughingstock for all of your friends like that.

“That–That’s a very vivid imagery, Jimin,” Minjeong adds. The others are nodding along with her.

Jimin shrugs. “Guess I can be a bit–shameless, you know?” she says with a giggle, making the crowd smile along with her.

“Alright, back to the story. I was riding him, and he was moaning,” Jimin continues. “Everything was going fine. Then he fucking slapped my tits.”

You can see Minjeong clenching her lips, hard. She’s trying not to burst out in a huge laughter, so is Taehyun, so is Beomgyu, so are a lot of other guys in the circle.

Jimin shoots the crowd a glare, whining in frustration, “Come on, guys! He fucking slapped my tits!” Jimin then slaps her chest softly, and that breaks the group.

The crowd erupts in laughter, unable to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. Kai is already on the floor, dying from the hilarity. You can’t help but chuckle along with the guys.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!” Jimin shouts, but the laughing crowd doesn’t seem to care, still laughing. You watch as Jimin leans back, watching the scene unfold around her, annoyed.

“Hmph!”

“Alright–Alright,” Yizhuo says, still laughing. She then reaches out to her friend for the bottle. Yizhuo wiggles it in her hand slightly, before she spins the bottle again, bringing the crowd’s attention to the object. The bottle rotates. Everyone, mostly still smiling, are watching it with anticipation, ready to see who will be the next victim of the game. Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True seems to repeat itself. The DJ probably forgot to turn the repeat function off. The guitar rings around the house. The bottle continues to spin, continuously slowing down second by second.

And it stops.

At you.

Fuck.

“Since Jimin picked truth–”

“Yeah, I know,” you quickly cut Yizhuo off. “Dare me something.”

You glance around the group. The men are thinking. The women are thinking. They’re probably trying to imagine the most embarrassing thing they can do to you.

“Hmm,” Beomgyu makes a thinking sound before seemingly having an idea. “Grind on somebody’s lap for thirty seconds.”

Your eyes widen in shock, trying to comprehend Beomgyu’s words. “Grind?”

“It’s the worst I could think of without taking off your clothes,” he nonchalantly says, shrugging.

“He could’ve done it for thirty-one seconds, you know,” Soobin chimes in, and the circle erupts in laughter, as you watch the events unfold shyly.

“Ha–alright, man,” Beomgyu says, still giggling. “Who’s going to be the lucky person here?”

The laughter subsides, and the circle focuses their attention on you. You look around the crowd, all red and flustered. Fuck, what is happening?

“I–uh–”

“I don’t mind,” Jimin blurts out with a loud burp, eliciting a few giggles. “I’m already taking a lot of flak tonight, so–come grind on my lap, pretty boy.”

Your eyes widen once more, not believing the words that just came out of Jimin’s pouty lips. Is she–Is she inviting you to grind on her lap? Your mind goes haywire. Your breathing quickens. Fuck, you can’t focus.

“C’mon, you’re already a bitch either way.”

You slowly get up from the floor, all anxious. You walk towards Jimin, who’s invitingly spreading her legs wide, gesturing you towards her.

As you reach Jimin, you lower your plump ass onto her lap. Jimin’s hands creep up your waist, gripping you in your place. Your body shudders at her touch.

“Alright, someone get the stopwatch,” Taehyun says. Yizhuo would be the one to do it, setting the timer at thirty seconds.

Your ass is hovering just above Jimin’s lap, leaving a small space because you just can’t bring yourself to. Suddenly, Jimin pulls you down onto her crotch, making you yelp.

“Nghhh!”

Jimin bursts out a laugh at your submissive response. Her hold on you is firm. She’s only allowing you to move sideways. Yeah, you’re definitely not leaving her before the timer runs out.

“Ready?” Yizhuo asks.

You take a deep breath on top of Jimin before replying, “Y–Yeah.”

“Alright, go!” Yizhuo then presses the start button.

Thirty seconds left.

You move on Jimin’s crotch awkwardly. Your hands find their grips on her strong shoulders. You feel the friction between your ass and her lap heating you two up in the space between. This feels so weird, yet so weirdly comforting. You somehow feel so safe on top of her like this.

“Mmm, just like that, bitch,” says Jimin, and you can only smile shyly in response.

Twenty seconds left.

Jimin starts to thrust her hips up your ass, making you bounce softly on her, her hands still gripping onto your waist tightly. You’re trying so hard to stifle your moan from coming out and embarrassing yourself.

You feel–reduced, reduced to her little man-whore, yet you find comfort in it. Your eyes start to flutter. Your vision is filled with stars.

“C’mon, moan for me. I fucking love it when men moan,” she encourages.

Ten seconds left.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s Jimin’s charm from below you. Your moans leak out from your lips as your movement quickens. You’re feeling like a bitch right now.

“Nghh~”

“Fuck, yeah! You’re putting on some show, pretty boy!” Jimin cheers, and that only spurs you on. Her hands are tightening on your waist. Your motion becomes more and more frantic. You’re revelling in the way she’s talking you down into her bitch.

“Alright, time’s up, guys.”

Your hands find purchase in her hair, as you grind her crotch recklessly. Your whimpers are echoing through the room. Through your narrowed eyes, you see Jimin watching you like a predator, smiling wickedly, taking in the view of her nasty little slut grinding on her lap like this.

“Guys.”

Your pants are tightened from the sensations pooling below your ass. Your whimpers become loud moans. You grind on her crotch as quickly as possible, and it feels so great, being reduced to her little man-whore like this. You swear that you can just do this forev–

“Guys!”

You’re snapped out of your little trance. It takes a blink of an eye, and you see Jimin laughing under you. Around you, the guys just watch in shock (there’s nobody filming, luckily), some having their mouths hanging open, some having their eyes widened.

“Time’s up,” Yizhuo says, showing you the zeroes on her phone.

“Oh, s–sorry,” you reply, before regretfully leaving Jimin’s lap. She’s still laughing under you.

—

You chug in a cup of beer, and another, and another. You’re still trying to make sense of what just happened earlier. You just grind on top of Yoo Jimin’s lap recklessly, moaning and whimpering on top of her. 

God, you were such a bitch.

“Hey.” Suddenly, a sound comes from your back, sounds familiar. You turn back to face its owner.

It’s Aeri, right hand holding her beer cup.

“H–Hey,” you reply nervously. The image of your intimacy with Jimin is still playing in your head.

Aeri shoots a look of concern towards you. “Are you okay? You seem a bit–red,” she asks.

“I–I’m okay, just a little drunk,” you answer, trying to brush her off the fact that you were just dry humped Yoo Jimin minutes ago.

“By the way, the guys were just talking about you,” Aeri says with a giggle. Her thumb is pointing towards your friends’ group that are trying to impress the women. “You grind on Yoo Jimin’s lap?”

Fuck.

You can only stand still in your place, unable to move a limb.

Aeri laughs at your petrified reaction. “Oh my god, you’re such a slut!” She gives your shoulder a friendly slap.

“I–It was a dare, Aeri,” you say apprehensively. That’ll prove fruitless, of course. She’s already thinking you’re a slut. She’s still laughing at you for doing so.

You wouldn’t call Aeri your closest friend, even if the distance between you and her is smaller than that of you and Jimin. You two greet each other in class. You two greet each other outside of class, but that’s it, nothing more, nothing less.

Aeri is more of a carefree type than Jimin. Getting a B is already an achievement for her. She drinks twice a week, stays over at somebody else’s place once a week. Her friends would call her a slut, and she’d happily accept it.

“Are you going to grind on someone’s lap again tonight?” she asks, giggling. “Or maybe eating some ladyfingers~”

“My god, Aeri.” You slap her shoulder softly.

“Alright, see you around!” Aeri says. You wave at her, and she waves back, before she disappears into the crowd again.

Why are you even here?

—

You’re sitting alone on the bed in the house’s bedroom. There’s a Little Fish poster on the wall. The owner sure has some taste. A few vinyls are stacking on top of one another near its player.

You’re trying to comprehend what just happened earlier. You were grinding on a popular girl’s lap, then another one came in to mock you. Oh god, it’s over.

A knock on the door pulls you out of the destructive cycle you’re in, at least.

“Yes?” you utter, and the door opens.

It’s Jimin. She’s peeking through the space between the door and the wall, as if to make sure that no one else is in the room but you (well, there’s no one else here). She then quickly enters the room, closes the door, and starts walking towards you.

“Uh–okay?” you say, puzzled by how she’s acting.

“Heyy,” Jimin greets you again. She seems a bit more–drunk?

“Hi, Jimin.” You figure that you should apologize to her. You just embarrassed her and yourself like that, and her nonchalant reaction may have been a mere defense mechanism!

“Look, I’m sorry about that dare. I should’ve controlled myself better. I’m sorr–”

Your train of thoughts is derailed by her fingers invading your mouth, making your entire body shudder in surprise. Your eyes open wide at her action. Fuck, what is she doing?

“Strip, now,” Jimin orders, drunkenly, fingers playing with the insides of your wet cavern, before she pulls them out, leaving you empty.

“Wh–What?”

“I said ‘strip’, bitch boy. What the fuck is so hard about that?” Her eyes are barely open.

“B–But–”

She plunges her wet fingers into your mouth again, stifling your slutty moans and whimpers. Her hand reeks of alcohol and something that screams her.

“Slut,” Jimin drunkenly utters, before using her free hand to unbutton your shirt, slowly revealing your abdomen inch by inch. “Just–ugh–be a good boy and listen to me, alright?”

You are starting to get lost in the haze of desire, and you can say nothing but nod at her filthy words. Your hands go to your belt, hastily unlocking it from your slutty waist. Your pants come off a little too easily, now pooling on the ground. Your cock only has your boxers left to cover it.

“A slut with a big cock–” Jimin chuckles, using her free hand to stroke your cock from the outside, and you can only moan into her filthy hands “–fucking perfect.”

You’re still sucking on her fingers enthusiastically, like a common whore. Your hands can only sit still by the sides. You don’t dare to touch her body again yet after what happened out there.

“You can touch my tits, you know. You’re standing like a rock, and it’s fucking weird,” Jimin says, and that gives you the permission to her voluptuous breasts.

Your hands start softly, from merely wandering on her tits from top to bottom. You can feel the bra underneath her midriff shirt. It’s barely containing her chest. God, fuck, she’s huge.

“You fucking love my tits, don’t you?” Jimin asks, fingers still busy exploring your mouth. “Strip for me and I’ll let you suck on them.”

You then stammeringly pull your boxers down to your ankles, freeing your cock from its tight confinement. It springs free in excitement, and you just can’t wait to plunge it into Jimin’s puffy cunt.

Your shirt follows suit as Jimin finally unbuttons it completely. You quickly get rid of the restrictive garment, and now, you’re completely nude in front of Yoo Jimin.

“Great body,” she says with a giggle, finally taking her fingers off your slutty mouth. Jimin then takes your hands towards the hem of her top, pulling it upwards, revealing the black bra that’s barely able to contain her tits. They’re almost spilling from the confinement. Fuck.

“Yeah, I fucking know they’re big, slut. Just–wait a sec,” she sneers, as her hands reach towards the back of her bra, hastily unlocking it. And with that, the garment comes off. You’re greeted with the sight of her breasts hanging gorgeously in front of your face, with brown nipples topping them. Her nipples are already hard, so ready for you to–

“Mmm~ s–suck it, slut,” she groans, her body trembling before you, hinting the pleasure she gets from this. Her hands press you harsher into her tits, wanting you to take in the taste.

Jimin reeks of the earlier alcohol, with a hint of salt on her nipples. She has been sweating a bit. God, imagine if you get to taste her after a workout, her body slick, shining with sweat. The salty taste on her tits permeates your tongue. You get to taste her sweat like that. What an experience that would be?

You keep sucking on her tits like there’s no tomorrow. When you suck on one side, you’ll use a hand to knead on the other, feeling the divine softness in your hand. You’re hungry, and only Yoo Jimin’s breasts can satiate your burning hunger.

“Wh–What a bitch,” Jimin sneers, but that only drives you further into the seemingly unending lust of yours.

Suddenly, Jimin grabs onto your hair, yanking your head back to face her beautiful features. It hurts, but in Jimin’s hand, your cock only grows harder and harder.

“Alright, get on the fucking bed,” Jimin orders, and you quickly complies with it.

Jimin follows you onto the soft bed, climbing onto it while her eyes are roaming your pliant body. She’s almost drooling at the sight, seeing you all being submissive for her like this.

She quickly discards her shorts and her already-drenched panties, and you can only watch her show in awe. Her pussy looks nothing short of puffy, so mouthwatering.

She then climbs on top of your pliant body, ready to fuck you senseless on your cock. She lines herself up with your length, before slowly lowering herself down.

At the first contact, both of you groan with the intense pleasure coursing through your bodies. Her pussy feels utterly diving, so fucking tight. Your breaths come out in a stuttered rhythm. Your entire body trembles in pure bliss.

“F–Fuckkk~” you mewl. Your mind can barely register anything but the tightness of her pussy enveloping your thick cock.

“Y–You goddamn s–slut, why is your–ugh–cock so b–big?” she moans, her body shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her.

“I–It’s g–genetics,” you answer her coyly.

Jimin bursts out a laugh on top of your cock, clearly amused by your reply. “God, you’re such a bitch, aren’t you?”

You can only shyly giggle. She’s almost at the hilt now, but the pleasure is already too intense for you.

“G–God, you’re so damn tight, J–Jimin,” you utter, unable to make sense of her otherworldly grip on your cock. God, she’s so tight.

“Th–Thanks,” she replies, her voice still stern. Her hands are drawing lines on your chest with her neatly-manicured nails. The sensation is just too much—on your abdomen, on your cock, on your mind.

Finally, she’s at the hilt. She screams in pure ecstasy. You’re splitting her open with your cock. Both of your eyes are fluttering in bliss. This feels so good.

“Oh f–fuck, you’re so–so big!” Jimin shouts. You watch as her hands are shaking on top of you, unable to handle the sheer size of you.

You say nothing, instead creeping your hands up her pillowy breasts, adding another hue of sensation to her. You start to play with her nipples, making her body spasming on top of you.

“G–Goddd~” she mewls.

Jimin then moves back up. Your cock reappears from the base once more. The feeling around your cock is ecstatic—her inner walls grazing your cock like this. It’s insane.

“Nghhh~” you moan, trying to comprehend the feeling.

“I–I’m going down now, s–slut,” she says, before ramming back down. The sound of flesh slapping into each other echoes through the room.

“Fuck!” Both of you scream in unison, involuntarily.

She moves up again, then down, then up, then she finds her rhythm on your cock. Her pussy feels unreal. She’s gripping you like a vice, so tight, so right. Without knowing, you’re plowing into her pussy with reckless abandon.

You pound her roughly with any force you have, aiming to fill her womb with your salty nectar. The sounds of moaning and flesh slapping rings through the room. The room reeks of sex. Your hands creep up onto her big breasts again. They feel so soft in your hands, and you decide to give them a firm squeeze, making Jimin’s body writhe above you.

“G–God, y–your hands, s–so good,” she says, voice barely above a goddamn whisper. Her back arches. Her eyes are fluttering. She’s falling apart.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your trance. Your motion comes to a halt in surprise.

“Heyyy, I know you guys are in there~”

Fuck, it’s Aeri.

Jimin quickly covers your mouth with her drool-stained hand, not wanting you to alert Aeri of your presence. She’s still grinding your cock recklessly, and you’re doing your best not to moan like a slut (even if you already are).

“I–It’s–ah–just Jimin here, A–Aeri,” Jimin says, trying to hide the fact that she’s using you as her fucktoy. Though the evident stutter in her voice gives way.

“C’mon, Jimin, don’t hog him just for yourself. I wanna use him too! Pleaseeee~” Aeri pleads. You can feel the desperation coming from the outside.

“Ugh, this fucking woman,” Jimin scoffs, hips moving on top of you in a hypnotic motion. Her breasts are jiggling as she moves. “Just–don’t forget to lock the door!”

You hear a happy giggle from the outside. The door opens, and here comes Aeri, still in the same clothes as the time she called you a slut earlier in the night. Though she’s already in the process of hiking up her crop top up. Her bra is slightly visible.

“Wow, Jimin, he’s already inside you? Naughty, naughty girl!” says Aeri as she closes the door. A loud click is heard.

“Tsk, says the college’s slut,” Jimin scoffs, before she goes back to riding the soul out of your pliant body.

“God forbid a woman be a little slutty, I guess,” Aeri sneers before taking off her crop top.

Aeri’s cup size, though not as large as Jimin’s, is still pretty damn impressive if you’d weigh in on this topic in the men’s circle. Her bust is also barely contained by her lacy bra, can’t see why someone wouldn’t be caught within her presence.

Your eyes are glued to the barely contained breasts of Aeri’s, despite being buried deep in Jimin’s cunt. Aeri sways her hips playfully, pulling you into another trance. It doesn’t stay for long though. Jimin calls you back into action with a flick on your taut nipple.

“Hey! Don’t–mmm!”

Jimin plunges her fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time, it still works, of course. You’re still sucking her slender fingers like a whore (you’re a whore, her whore). Your hands roam over her body to have a grab on her large bust hanging gorgeously above your face.

“Fucking wh–whore,” Jimin sneers, unimpressed by your antics, although drowning in the pleasure of being touched by you. She seems to really want you as hers, doesn’t she?

“Ngmm~” you can only whimper out.

“Oh, come on, Jimin. Don’t be so harsh on him!” Aeri protects you, as she slowly takes off her bra, waiting to use your body in some way. “Don’t want him to cum so fast. You know how much of a slut he is, right, baby?”

You nod sheepishly with Jimin’s fingers still inside your mouth. Degradation only makes you cum faster, and you wouldn’t want to piss Jimin and Aeri off by cumming before them.

As Aeri’s bra comes off, you’re greeted with her perfect breasts. Her dusky nipples are already hard, ready to be sucked and nibbled. You’re so ready for the second pair of tits for tonight.

“Oh, c’mon, Aeri. You’re distracting him!” Jimin whines, her hands are trying to divert your attention back to her bouncing on your cock. It works, sometimes. You can see Aeri giggling in the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, alright, how about–” Aeri takes off her shorts and panties in a single swoop, putting her mouthwatering cunt on display for you “–I sit on his face.”

God, she looks so delicious naked like this.

Back to her latest words first, though. Did she just say she’s going to sit on your face?

“Seems fair,” Jimin replies, gesturing Aeri to your vacant, unused face.

“Wait, I can’t–”

“You can, slut,” Jimin commands. Her voice is stern. Her pace on your length remains reckless, trying to coax the cum out of your full balls. “Don’t think you have any say in this, bitch. Tonight’s my–no–our night.”

You only whimper in response. You’re going to get double-teamed by Jimin and Aeri, and you couldn’t be happier than this.

Aeri then climbs onto the bed, approaching you like a predator eyeing its prey. She puts her legs on both of your sides, caging your head with her meaty thighs. Her pussy is just right above you. And slowly, she lowers herself onto your face, ready to suffocate you with her cunt.

“Oh god,” you utter, so lost in the throes of pleasure Aeri is about to give you.

She lowers just one of her knees close to your head. You’ve seen a video on this before. It’ll help the woman to not get tired too quickly. Her pussy is so close to your face now, and you can do nothing but stick your tongue out, ready to eat her out.

“Oh, and,” Aeri says, halting her motion slightly, making you groan in disappointment. “Do you want to kiss me, Jimin?”

“Ah, not my thing. Sorry,” Jimin replies with a polite smile, keeping her movements erratic on your cock. God, this feels so good.

“It’s fine,” Aeri says, before completely sinking herself onto your face, making you take in her taste.

“Fuckkk~” Aeri screams. Her body is shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her. Her hands grip onto the sides of your head tightly. She doesn’t want to let you go.

It’s not hyperbolic to say that Aeri’s taste is insane. You’re completely hypnotized by her flavor on your tongue. She has the perfect amount of saltiness, and the perfect amount of musk. Aeri’s pussy is driving you haywire, even if it’s in a different way that Jimin is making you feel.

“So–perfect for–a facefuck, god!” Aeri shouts, starting to ride your face like it’s hers (it’s hers).

The sensation is unreal. Jimin is trying to pump cum out of your cock with her grinding motion as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy), while Aeri is riding the shit out of your face as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy). The scent of her pussy is filling your nostrils, and you can’t help but grab onto both women’s breasts.

“Goddd~” Aeri groans, body shaking on top of you. Jimin says nothing but letting you play with her tits, though a few whimpers are leaking out of her lips.

Aeri’s juice tastes so damn good, and you’re happily lapping her up hungrily. Her juice is running down your chin to your neck, creating a filthy trail on your pretty face. You’re revelling in her taste. You’re revelling in the way you’re pleasing her. You’re revelling in the way she fucking keens on top of you.

“S–So, you’re not all just a pretty face, huh?” Aeri asks, her taut body trembling on you. She keeps riding your face frantically. God, she really is going for it.

You answer with an even more intense movement of your tongue, making Aeri scream on top of you. She grinds on your face even faster and faster.

Inevitably, you’re going to reach the precipice. You can feel the heat pooling in your crotch. You’re going to cum inside Yoo Jimin’s pussy!

“Nghh~ g–gonna cum,” you say. It’s barely coming out with Aeri’s cunt on your mouth like this. 

You hear Aeri giggle softly above you, body trembling in pleasure. “Well, this is rather fast, isn’t it?”

“You’re late, Aeri,” Jimin says, slightly dissatisfied with Aeri’s complaints. “Maybe you can come here instead of whoring out while he’s balls deep inside of me.”

Aeri giggles again. “Fineee~ just let me know when you guys are fucking.”

“G–Girls, gonna c–cum–nghn.”

Both Jimin and Aeri quicken their pace on top of you, chasing their own orgasm. They really want to cum with you, don’t they?

“A–Alright, I’m c–close–ah,” Jimin utters. You can hear her frantic breathing from below. Her grip on your waist becomes tighter. Your left hand alternates between her breasts, giving them the treatment they deserve.

“M–Me too,” Aeri says. Her muscles tense up under your touch. Her brown nipples are harder than ever. The three of you are going to cum at the same time!

“Nghh, I–I’m so c–close, girls. C–Can I cum inside you, J–Jimin?” you ask. The feeling is irresistible now. You’re so, so close.

“F–Fucking fill my–my womb, bitch,” Jimin scoffs, her voice stern. “Breed me like–like the whore you are.”

Her words spur you on, as you thrust up into Jimin’s cunt as fast as humanly possible. Your mouth ravages Aeri’s folds recklessly.

Jimin would be the first to break. Her cunt gushes out clear liquid onto the bed. Her body spasms on top of you. You can feel her wetness pooling on your stomach. Aeri follows suit. Her squirt leaks out of her pussy onto your face as you happily drink it. Both of them scream, forming a cacophony that fills the room. 

“Yes! Yes! Fucking–Fucking love this cock.” Jimin shouts. You aren’t so sure who’s going to hear that, but you don’t care. You’re about to cum inside of her.

“G–God, I’m painting your face so good!” Aeri says.

You let go. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum into Jimin’s womb. You’re breeding Yoo Jimin with your cock. Your entire body writhes under both women’s bodies. 

“I can feel it twitch inside me!” Jimin says excitedly, softly raking your body with her nails.

Your eyes flutter in ecstasy, unable to make sense of the sensations on your body. There’s the feeling of Jimin’s ass on your cock. There’s the feeling of Aeri’s thighs on your face. There’s the scent of sex and sweat filling the room. That’s So True can still be heard. It just won’t stop, will it?

Finally, you come down from your precipice. You’re panting along with the women, trying to catch your breath in this post-orgasm bliss. Fuck, that felt good.

“Slut,” Jimin sneers, getting off from your cock at the same time as Aeri unlatches herself from your face. “Bathroom, now.”

You quickly comply with her order, getting off from the bed and walking towards the bathroom. You feel so submissive, so pliant, yet it feels so right, being their little bitch boy like this.

“One more round?” Aeri jokes, giving your ass a slap, making you yelp.

“Oh, definitely,” Jimin says, determined in her voice.

“M–Maybe, I gotta take a break.”

—

[misstycloud]

Yandere bully x f. reader

{He’s not a bully towards reader.}

Yandere bully who is the terror at school. No one want to be close to him in fear of being his next target. People are afraid of even looking at him, thinking it will trigger his bully-instincts. No one wants their head shoved down the toilet, their books thrown in the fountain or getting shaken down for cash.

Yandere bully who is, despite your reluctance, you friend. The two of you are neighbours and childhood friends. You often sigh whenever he will go on about his latest victim and the ‘funny’ expressions they made when scared. He truly thinks it was hilarious. You truly don’t know how he got this bad.

Yandere bully who targets anyone who’ll talk to you for more than five minutes. Who are they and why do they think they have any right to be near you? It seems he’ll simply have to teach them a lesson or two.

Yandere bully who smirks in sadistic delight as his victim crawls on the ground like the worm they are. Don’t they know that worthless insects shouldn’t go masquerading as something else in order to get close to a butterfly? Their pleas for forgiveness fall on deaf ears. They shouldn’t have talked to you but they did it anyway. It’s their own fault. The entire school knows you belong to Yan. Bully and to stay away of face the consequences. Just follow the rules and you’ll be fine and dandy!

Yandere bully who is a completely different person with you. There are no traces of the cruel, sadistic bully whenever he’s in your presence. Although, he can still be a bit cranky and leave a mean comment to anyone he deems deserves it.

Yandere bully who treats you like a real princess- his princess to be more exact! He buys you gifts like stuffed animals, puts the small candies he knows you adore on your desk and writes you cute notes with a bunch of compliments on them. If others had knowledge of the extent he’d go for you they all be shocked. Does this vicious bully really have enough human in him to care for someone else? Seems unlikely. He’s a total monster in others eyes. He’s nothing more than a rude, condescending, sadistic freak who would love nothing more than to torment you- that’s who he is to everyone but you.

Yandere bully who you know you should break of contact with. Though you’ve never seen it(which is a conscious decision on his part), you’ve heard of the things he does to other people. He has never done anything bad to you but he doesn’t really hide his hideous deeds either. It’s a struggle. Especially since your families are close as well. They’d never believe you if you told them the stuff he’s up to. The same as you, he also plays ‘sweet angel’ with your families. They simply believe he’s nothing more then a (slightly) overprotective friend who’s hopelessly in love with you (yes, they all know about his feelings towards you, he’s told them in hope of getting support from both sides and it worked).

Yandere bully who you can never get rid of. He’ll be around every corner waiting for you. Even your families think it’s a fantastic idea for the two of you t be together. It would be such a sweet story; two childhood best friends who, throughout their growth, develop strong feelings for each other! It’s often that someone asks whether the two of you are dating yet, to which you sigh and he lets out a warm chuckle, saying ‘hopefully soon.’

Yandere bully who is not above threatening others’ lives if you refuse him. He’ll use these disgusting filths as leverage and make their lives hell (as if he wasn’t doing that already) unless you date him- specially with marriage as the end goal. By the end of the day, people would be begging on their knees for you to just love him back already. If you just dated him then they wouldn’t be in so much pain.

Please, don’t force him to him hurt others.

[lilyprettyremy]

10 Bad Habits to Let Go of for a Beautiful Life (Trust Me, You’ll Thank Yourself)

We all have those habits that hold us back — some sneakier than others. And while no one’s perfect, a little spring cleaning of your daily habits can unlock a happier, healthier life. Ready to drop the bad vibes and level up? Here are 10 bad habits to leave behind for good!

1. The Comparison Game — It’s Gotta Go

We’ve all done it. Scrolling, looking at someone’s perfect life, and feeling like we’re not enough. But honestly? Comparing yourself to others is a losing game. Focus on your own growth, and unfollow anything or anyone that makes you feel less-than. Your journey is yours alone, and it’s beautiful in its own way. Keep your eyes on your own lane!

2. Procrastinating Like It’s a Sport

We get it — that “I’ll do it tomorrow” energy feels good in the moment, but it’s also a trap. The more you put off tasks, the more they pile up and haunt you. Trust, the best feeling is getting stuff done now and freeing up your mind for the fun stuff later. Break it down, set a timer, and just start. You’ll feel like a boss when you’re done.

3. Saying Yes to Everything (Even When You Don’t Want To)

No is a full sentence, babe! If you’re constantly saying yes to things that don’t align with your goals or drain your energy, it’s time to stop. Overcommitting leads to burnout, and life’s too short for that. Start setting boundaries and prioritize what makes you feel good. Your time is precious, so treat it like gold.

4. Relying on Everyone Else’s Approval

We all love a little validation, but depending on it? That’s a recipe for insecurity. Your worth isn’t measured by someone else’s likes or approval. The only validation you really need is your own. So hype yourself up, celebrate your wins, and be proud of the progress you’re making, regardless of who’s watching.

5. Avoiding Your Finances Like It’s Scary

Finances don’t have to be terrifying! Ignoring them might feel easier in the moment, but getting a handle on your money situation is so empowering. Start small — track your spending, create a budget, and set a savings goal. The sooner you take control, the more stress-free your future will feel.

6. Holding Grudges Like They’re Trophies

Honestly, holding onto grudges only weighs you down. Letting go of past negativity isn’t about excusing people’s behavior — it’s about freeing yourself. Don’t let old situations control your peace. Forgiveness is for you, babe. The less baggage you carry, the lighter you’ll feel.

7. Talking Down to Yourself

Would you say those mean things to your best friend? Didn’t think so! So why do we let ourselves get away with it? Cut out the negative self-talk and replace it with something a little more kind and uplifting. You deserve better from yourself. You wouldn’t believe how much your mindset can change once you start being nice to yourself.

8. Expecting Everything to Be Perfect

Perfection is a myth, and chasing it will only leave you stressed and frustrated. Life happens in the in-between moments — the imperfect, messy, beautifully real ones. Give yourself some grace and celebrate progress, not perfection. A “good enough” life is often a perfect one in disguise.

9. Staying in Your Safe Bubble

Your comfort zone might feel cozy, but nothing grows there! Stepping outside of it might be scary, but it’s where all the magic happens. Whether it’s trying something new, starting a project, or meeting new people, discomfort leads to growth. Don’t let fear hold you back — take the leap!

10. Blaming Everything Else for What’s Not Going Right

It’s easy to point fingers and blame outside circumstances, but taking responsibility is where real change starts. You’ve got more control than you think! Instead of dwelling on what’s going wrong, focus on what you can change. You’ve got the power to turn things around — it’s all in your hands.

These bad habits? They’re not serving you, and it’s time to leave them in the past. Letting go of what’s holding you back will clear the way for bigger, better things. You’re already halfway there just by recognizing what needs to change. So let go, level up, and watch your life get a little more beautiful, one habit at a time.