#be condescending all you want in your mind but if you come onto my post and explain what I already know and MISS MY POINT

[unsertraumschiff]

Anyone who talks down to me online just because they’re older than me owes me money for being insanely aggravating

[xosannie]

Two Is Better Than One

☆Genre: smut MDNI 18+ only

☆Pairing: sub!woosan x dom!afab reader

☆Word count: 1k

☆Warning: Exhibition &voyeurism, degrading/humiliation, pain(slapping the ween),reader gets called Mistress, feet rubbing (tell me if I missed anything)

☆a/n: This is a short oneshot I had written in my notes for a while. I decided to post it here for you guys :D. I’m working on another fic and I wanted you guys to have something to read while I work on it. Enjoy :p this is for all the fellow sub!Ateez lovers. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t you love being watched as I play with you?” 

Wooyoung whimpered as his body squirmed against yours. Your hand moved up and down on his length with a firm grip. Your other hand wrapped around his torso, holding him close to your chest. 

“I know you do. After all, your dick is so hard right now, it’s leaking so much.”

You watched his precum pool at the tip, you had to bite down on your lip to suppress a moan. As you spoke, your tone was condescending and teasing, which makes Wooyoung so hot and bothered. 

“You love feeling so vulnerable and pathetic, don’t you?”

He whined and nodded wordlessly.

”Use your words, baby.” 

You smacked the tip of his dick, and he jumped with a yelp. 

“Ah! Yes, I like it. I love it. I feel like a dirty slut!” 

“That’s better.” 

You continue to stroke his throbbing dick, poor thing was twitching and red with need. You press soft kisses and nibble on the skin of his neck, Wooyoung subconsciously tilted his head to the side.

He shifted around where he sat, fiddling with his thumbs. A small whimper escaped his lips. It was quiet, but you couldn’t miss it. 

“Mistress?” Wooyoung said meekly.

“Yes baby?”

“Can you please... slap my dick again?” 

The look in his eyes was desperate, you could feel your pussy ache and you swear a drip of slick fell down onto your panties. You had to control yourself to not pounce on him right then and there.

“You want me to slap your dick?” You laughed, causing Wooyoung’s dick to twitch. 

“Yes please! Please slap my slutty dick, Mistress... ah!” 

You slapped the tip again, and his body jerked forward, but you held him down. 

“Thank you!” 

Slap

“Thank you, Mistress!”

"Oh, my god,” San whispered to himself. 

He adjusted the crotch of his pants as he felt himself twitch. The sight of Wooyoung being desperate in your hands and your sadistic smile turned him on more than he anticipated. 

You laughed at Wooyoung’s behavior, and noticed San shifting in the chair from the corner on your eye. Your gaze wandered to San, almost forgetting he was sitting there. Your eyes studied his body language, and you then noticed the large bulge in his pants.

 That enticed you. 

“Are you enjoying the show?” 

San’s eyes met yours, and his face heated up. 

“Y-yes, a lot.”

“I can tell, I mean look at how hard you are.” 

You nodded in the direction of his crotch, and he looked down, surprised to see how hard he had gotten watching you two. 

“Oh! Um… Don’t mind that... Just keep doing what you’re doing.” 

His hands covered his crotch, embarrassed to have that kind of reaction in front of you. 

Your hand stopped jerking Wooyoung’s dick, causing him to let out a loud whine. 

“Noooo! Why did you stop, Mistress?” 

“Look at our guest. He’s been sitting there hard for, god knows, how long. How rude of us to leave him like that.” 

Wooyoung looked over at San, he watched his chest rise and fall rapidly. His face was beat-red, and his huge bulge was prominent in his sweats. 

“Wow, you really got hard watching us?” Wooyoung said in a teasing tone.

Something about San’s reaction ignited a fire in Wooyoung’s chest. He looked over at you and already knew what you were thinking just by the glint in your eyes. And he knew that he was on board with whatever you were going to suggest.

San’s stomach twisted, nervous about what was yet to come. He watched as you whispered something in Wooyoung’s ear. The anticipation was killing him, and it was turning him on even more. Wooyoung nodded, and you suddenly arose from where you sat. 

“Maybe we can help you take care of that problem you have down there.”

You walked slowly to San. He gripped the arm of the chair and took a deep breath.

“W-what do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. After all, it’s our fault that you have this problem. The least we can do is help you get rid of it.”

You leaned down, placing both your hands on the armrests. He leaned back as you towered over him, feeling so small at that moment. 

“Will you join us?”

“You want me... to join?”

You gently cupped his face as you leaned closer. His breath hitched and his eyes couldn’t seem to meet yours.

“Yes, if that’s ok with you, of course.” 

“I-I don’t know….”

You pull away, standing straight. He felt cold without your presence and looked up, confused at your sudden movement. 

"So, is that a no?” 

“No! I mean, I want it. I would love to join you two.”

A sly smirk plastered on your face at San’s eagerness. You reach over and caress his dark hair.

“Good boy. Now strip.” 

“Yes mistress!” 

San shot up, out the chair and ripped his clothes off. You chuckled at his eagerness and sat down. 

“I want both of you to sit in front of me on your knees. Now!”

They both scurried on their knees, sitting at your feet. 

You scoffed as you saw San's hard dick standing proudly. You rubbed his red, leaking cock with your foot and laughed when he let out a whimper. 

“Your dick is so cute, so hard, and ready for me to play with. How pathetic.” 

He moaned out loud at the degradation and subconsciously rocked his hips, grinding against your foot. You quickly removed your foot, making him whine desperately. 

"No, no, no, baby, I didn’t give you permission to hump my foot like a dog.” 

“Sorry mistress.” San hung his head low, feeling embarrassed and ashamed (but so fucking turned on.)

Wooyoung watched the interaction intently, you looked so hot torturing San. He bit his lip and gripped his thigh so hard to prevent him from touching himself. You heard the small whimper Wooyoung let out, his dick twitching between his legs.

A smirk appears on your face as you gaze down at the boys sitting at your feet, ready to obey and eager to please you. 

This is going to be one hell of a night.

[babyhatesreality]

Hi there love!

I know you know who I am by that sentence and I could ask this without being anonymous but I don’t feel comfortable doing that I think you’ll understand why after reading this…

Okay so, recently I posted a fic who was asked about one of daddies waking up little reader with kisses on her 🐱 ect, you know what I mean ?

And I just had some hate about that because people didn’t read the warnings nor the warnings tags which made me really insecure and it also made me feel bad about all kind of things.

I don’t regret posting it because I love pleasing people in posting their requests but it just made me feel.. low, you know ?

And I wanted to know if you would be comfortable about writing a fic for me ?

I let you write whatever you want, let your mind flies but I just want to see in the fics lots of fluff by daddies, comfort, kisses, I need the reader to feel really little because I need to feel little right now and because of the hate I don’t know how

Thank you so much for even considering it, love! You’re an amazing writer and I know I already told you that but I tell you again now. Your fics are amazing and it always make me feel good

I love you!

Kisses,

Anonymous 💜

My love. I got you <3

Sparkle

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f! reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, nicknames, reader is named but name scarcely used, sad baby, means internet words, angst, comfort, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

You shouldn't have gone onto the computer without your daddies. You always regretted it, and today was definitely no exception. But you'd been bored and forgotten.

You'd seen the stupid click-bait article but had been unable to resist. The lies, the insinuations, the straight up nastiness from people who had never met your daddies, let alone you, was astounding. That people felt it was okay to be this mean, this condescending, this nasty about someone else, while they were sitting pretty, safely behind their crumb-filled keyboards. You didn't want to think about it. But it kept drilling its way into your mind.

You tried everything to take your mind off it- watching Tangled, playing with Jellybean, coloring, drawing, building Legos, but nothing was working. You finally crawled into your closet, buried yourself under a blanket, and cried.

When Steve and Bucky came home, they were unnerved to find that their precious hyperactive angel didn't come running to greet them. They found you pretty quickly, getting you out from the closet and holding you close. They'd seen the iPad on your bed, and from a brief search history figured out the trigger pretty quickly.

Steve held you so tight in his arms, after wrapping your favorite yellow blanket around you. He rested his cheek on the top of your head and murmured soft things into your ear.

"Baby, you know what you read isn't true. These people don't know us or you. They are being mean because they think they are allowed to have a say in our lives. But that's wrong. They don't get a say. It only matters what you say, what I say, what Daddy says. And Daddy and I love you so much that we don't ever, EVER, want to be apart from you. We know that you're the best thing that ever happened to us. You make us so happy. You make so many people so happy, and that's just by being you. We don't want anyone else, and we don't want things to change. We love the way you sparkle."

As Steve was holding you, Bucky was making one of your favorite comfort meals- grilled cheese with tomato soup. You all had an impromptu picnic on the living room floor. Steve transferred you to Bucky's lap so he could spend some time reassuring you. He gently fed you bites of the sandwich and spoonfuls of soup.

"Papa is right, you know," Bucky said, wiping the tiniest bit of soup off your chin, before feeding you another bite of sandwich. "You're our best girl, baby. There's no one else, there never will be anyone else. And anyone who thinks that we're all wrong, never mattered in the first place. They don't get to decide our lives. They don't have any power over us at all. And they never will. You keep sparkling on, just like you always have. Okay?"

When you gave a shy, soft smile and a nod in return, they smiled their best Daddy and Papa smiles at you. Neither one of them put you down for the rest of the night except at bath time, and even then they always had one hand on you. You got to eat cookies in bed with them while they read your two stories each.

And you realized- your sparkle is what makes you unique. The way you laugh, and play, and giggle, and create- that's what they loved about you. And absolutely no one could take that away. You were- and would always be- loved for your sparkle.

[leclercskiesahead]

Hi, I hope you are doing well, sorry if this isn't something you want to answer, but I've been seeing your posts for a while and I loved them so I clicked onto your account to see your blogs and I saw this in your description:

'we have disowned Charles in this house he can come back when he learns to not be a whiny brat'

I just wanted to ask if this still holds true for you. I have seen a lot of people saying that they have forgiven Charles for Barcelona as he was probably in the heat of the moment vs people saying that they will never forget and he was just showing his true colours then.

I wanted to see your perspective on this, if you don't mind sharing that is. Also, I just wanted to let you know that I love your posts a lot <3

So my interest in him was already waning because it is hard to find accounts about him that aren't toxic, so of all my various fandom interests, I don't interact with a lot of content about him. And then he went ahead and killed my impression of him himself. I think that heat of the moment or not, how you behave still tells a lot about your character. And referring to my description - I'm not sure he HAS learnt. The statements he has made since frame it as a "oh the media exaggerates things sometimes" case and "we are drivers we all get upset with each other sometimes it happens" when 1. in that scenario it was HIM who brought it up to the media and made some very insinuating, accusatory, and condescending remarks, so although the media does and has exaggerated before, he was the one instigating them that time, and 2. I'm sure all the drivers have gotten angry and upset at other drivers before, their first reactions haven't been to go to the media to make those remarks. I think even if it's heat of the moment, he would be aware of the consequences his actions and words would have - for others, namely Carlos - and he still went ahead. Maybe even wanted those consequences. Plus they do have a bit of time to cool down and get weighed before starting media, so it's not quite 'in the moment'. Whatever happens behind closed door we will never know. But from what I can see, I haven't seen enough to forgive him, and while I still enjoy content with him in it, I don't find it in me to care for him.

[the-malfunctioning-somnambulist]

Okay, my own Tedward Lobo boohoo post incoming, thanks to the deleted scenes. Sorry for retelling the plot ig.

As a rule, the most horrible stuff in a movie happens to comic relief characters (looking at Kevin, the "he can control rats with his mind" guy). And "Renfield" is a horror (!) comedy (!!), which makes things worse.

Teddy's family and, on a larger scale, the city itself is a rather closed system. And in this environment the only way to prove oneself is the kind of violence Teddy can't stomach. The deleted scene with him and Mandy downstairs makes it clear that Mandy is Bellafrancesca's favourite, the one who will probably inherit the empire because she /is/ ready to go far enough (regardless of if she's been conditioned or if she's just that brand of Weird Little Girl TM). Maybe Teddy has been behind the white curtain too and knows he'd rather not step in there again.

And yes, he tries to prove himself in small ways (like terrifying one specific cop), but the existence of Mandy as viable competition explains why he's always that high, why he brags so much, why he desperately wants to be taken seriously by Rebecca: he knows he's lost the family game. He's smart enough to know he's a failed cause, and he tries to drown that out and be more of a clown than he actually is because that feels safe. Because from this underachiever clown position you can still sometimes surprise people with your Lobo ruthlessness and feel, for a moment, that you're enough.

He can be a decent talker, and he probably thinks it's his strong side, because he constantly uses that as self-defense with his mom, Rebecca, and especially with Dracula to buy some time or soften the blow. That's the behaviour of someone who considers himself bad at /doing/ stuff. He really has internalized it.

But then there's Dracula and Renfield's divorce.

Dracula is historically the kind of villain who draws on the subconscious and brings out the worst in people. Cage's Dracula is less of a symbol and has quite a lot of personality, but everyone around still projects their insecurities onto him: Renfield knows he's not a good person and chooses to blame Dracula for all of that, and Teddy ends up as ""susceptible"" to Dracula's powers not because his mind is actually weaker or whatever (god that whole piece of lore was so antisemitic). Teddy simply gives himself up to Dracula because he already thinks he's worthless.  As in, worthless by himself, only good for someone else's business, a husk that doesn't stop being a husk because it was filled. It's a semi-conscious choice, but not a character flaw like Renfield's commitment issues. Teddy is less in it for the powers of a familiar (but sure, let's just call a visibly Jewish guy "greedy") and more for the security of being and /doing/ enough instead of just crashing and burning and bullshitting his way through life.

And again, Dracula is someone to whom you prove yourself with violence, as Renfield has done over the years while bringing him victims. And again, Teddy fails and gets killed in a pretty horrific way, played for coolness like a fighting game fatality hit. He can't be enough for the system he lives in, and he can't escape it even by giving his loyalty to an outsider (which he was genuinely ready to do because his mom's ally is his ally), and this internal conflict kills Teddy even before Bobby does.

But with all that insecurity going on, Teddy is loved, if in a condescending way - and he KNOWS that he's loved. One deleted scene that hurt to see was the moment when Teddy returns to the Lobo mansion and everyone is overjoyed, not just because of the money he throws around but because, well, he's still part of the family, their lovable doofus and the life and soul of their parties. And he strolls upstairs, confident that his mother will welcome him - and hearing the opposite actually comes as a surprise. He is loved, but not /trusted/ in the way Mandy is. He is not respected. Maybe if there was no love, he'd have a chance at leaving, but to those who love him, Teddy is loyal to the death where Renfield is a cheater trying to make his former family into a sob story for Rebecca.

Teddy's tragedy is that he could thrive and just be a fun dude in a different environment but he cannot see himself in any other context. He desperately affirms, again and again, "I'm Teddy fucking Lobo!" - both claiming he's a valid member of the family and announcing himself as a person. Except even in this case he doesn't use his full name, doesn't own its ridiculousness - he lacks the self-confidence for that. Always a Teddy, never a grown-up Tedward. Always a son, never the head of the household. From Bella to Mandy, the Lobo family might well be turning into a matriarchy anyway.

Tragedy is always about a person in the wrong circumstances, and this is highlighted by the yin yang thing: Teddy wants to inspire fear instead of pity, and Renfield wants to inspire pity instead of fear. Teddy wants to pretend he has more agency than he does, and Renfield wants to pretend he had less agency than he did. Teddy could probably enjoy some normal parties with no bloodshed involved, and Renfield could fit right into the Lobo family with his habit of self-righteously terrifying and dismembering those he kills/brings to Dracula (mind you, Dracula himself never mutilates the bodies that much, he usually does the bare minimun to kill a person).

It's all just kinda sad.

tl;dr Teddy makes himself more obnoxious on purpose because he's the loser older brother in a society he doesn't fit into and he knows it and copes through aggressive clowning but cannot get out except in death.

[dcbbw]

WIP Wednesday 3.22.23

Hello, tumblr! I’m back with a WIP Wednesday; I promise you I am working on far more than the snippets posted below, but curious if there would be interest in dubcon/noncon UnRomance (we all know Liam’s an ass in this AU, but a boundary-breaking ass is a totally different animal) and the Mormon (FLDS) AU. Feel free to drop your opinions in the comments.

By now, you all know the drill: everything is in a state of draft and published version may differ.

It’s all below the cut. Enjoy!

Craving (A Maxwell story)

My eyes move behind the blindfold as I hear her faraway movements, as if I can see her. I can’t, but I envision her clearly in my mind’s eye. I picture her naked, breasts bouncing and the soles of her feet whispering across hardwood floors as she scrounges about for God knows what.  

I do know she’s in the kitchen; what she’s doing in there, I have no idea. I hear the whirring of the can opener, the slamming of cabinet doors, the rattle of dishes. I raise myself so I am sitting more flush against the pillows behind my back, imagining the look of concentration that infuses her expression when she's focused on a task: eyes narrowed in concentration, her upper teeth biting her lower lip, the back of her hand impatiently brushing bangs away from her forehead.

My cock stirs, and I wonder for the zillionth time how she ended up with me.  

After all, she came here for Liam.  

Untitled UnRomance

I look down at my sandwich, over at Liam, then back to my sandwich again as his words tumble in my head. He arches an eyebrow as he dabs at his mouth, clearing the curry ranch dressing dotting his upper lip.  

“Well?” He questions in a tone laced with impatience.  

“I … I d-d-don’t know,” I stutter, almost ashamedly. “What would I have to do?” 

“Absolutely nothing. For the next 48 hours, I control everything. Your personal affairs, how you spend your day … your body. The only changes from our day-to-day is that in addition to not having to make any decisions, you will no longer have a choice. You will do what I want, when I want. No questions asked, no consent needed.” 

It sounds like what we have now. Too much like what we have now. I stare at him as I chew meat, bread, and cheese knowing that there is a catch in there. A catch with no loophole.  

“But what if I don't want to? What if I say no?” 

He rises from his chair, gathering wrappers and used napkins as he does so. He glances at me briefly, a smirk lifting his lips.  

“Until Sunday Riley, it’s my body. My choice.” 

His stance, stiffly drawn up to his full height; his tone, cocksure and condescending; his very expression filled with an overt confidence and … mockery, perhaps lets me know I never had a say in the matter.  

Sister Wives (Mormon AU)—possible one-shot, but we’ll see

“YOU are going against the word of God!” a red-faced Barthelemy thundered as he thrust his face closer to Leo’s.  

Leo’s eyes flickered over the older man’s face as he calmly poured himself a drink. He noticed the specks of spittle dotting otherwise dry, skinny lips; thinning, gray hair; and dark -brown spots mottling the wrinkled skin near Barthelemy's temple. 

“With all due respect Elder, neither God nor Jesus has played a huge role in our church. What I am practicing is the word of the One True Prophet.” His hand gestured towards the framed wedding photos. “THIS is what Joseph Smith envisioned for his people, THIS is the life Brigham Young lived, how the true and faithful SHOULD live!”  

Barthelemy sat heavily in the cushioned armchair placed opposite Leo Rys’ desk. “They’ve already come for Warren; they’ll be coming after the remaining leadership next. The settlements are under surveillance as we speak. “ 

Leo’s lips thinned in anger, a frown of displeasure turning them downward. “Because cowards such as yourself kowtowed to governmental threats! If God loves you so much and Jesus saves all souls … what in the HELL did the Presidents and Quorums have to fear?” 

He slammed the tumbler onto his desk so harshly, splashes of brown liquid slopped over the lip of the glass.  

“Well, answer me!” he demanded.  

“We are a quiet people. We merely want to live in peace and happiness until it’s time for us to be called home,” Barthelemy's head was hung low, but his voice was firm.  

Leo snorted derisively. “Happiness isn’t politically correct. The sooner you people realize that, the better off we’ll all be.” 

Tagging: @jared2612​ @ao719​ @marietrinmimi​ @queenjilian​ @indiacater​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac​ @liamxs-world​ @mom2000aggie​ @liamrhysstalker2020​ @neotericthemis​ @twinkleallnight​ @umccall71​ @superharriet​ @busywoman​ @gabesmommie1130​ @tessa-liam​ @beezm​ @gardeningourmet​ @lovingchoices14​ @mainstreetreader​ @angelasscribbles​ @lady-calypso​ @emkay512​ @princessleac1​ @charlotteg234​ @queenrileyrose​ @alj4890​ @yourfavaquarius111​ @motorcitymademadame​ @queenmiarys​

[rainstorm-banshee]

Little hux comfort blurb, first time posting anything like this so uhh be nice

The door to his quarters is always locked. It doesnt matter if we saw each other regularly, it was still protocol for even a high-ranking medical officer to request entry into the General's offices. I knocked three times on the durasteel door, and waited.

"State your business." His voice came over the comm slightly staticky, but that couldn't disguise the familiar tinge of exhaustion it held. For a moment I debated retiring to my own quarters to let him sleep.

"Medical Officer Dr. Ezra requesting entry."

The door hissed open without a comm response and I stepped into the main room. The lights were dimmer than the hallway, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust and scan the room for life.

I didn't have to look for long, because a voice called to me from the next room over: the kitchenette.

"Tea? The pot is still warm."

To my surprise, Armitage Hux was still in his full uniform, complete with greatcoat and gloves, hair carefully slicked into place.

"Please."

Within minutes, I was handed a warm black cup of tea. He eyed me from where he was leaning on the counter, taking a small sip of his own.

"Out with it. You look like you're about to collapse in on yourself like a dying star."

Bold words from a man who regularly got so worked up his entire body shook, who skipped nights of sleep to complete paperwork, who 'relaxed' by spending time at the blaster shooting range. His dedication to the First Order was greater than to anything else, even his own well being.

"I'm just tired. Wanted to come see you." I took another long sip of tea to avoid meeting his icey gaze. It was just on the wrong side of too hot. Only one of those sentences was a lie, and Hux saw right through it. He brushed his already neat hair back with his free hand.

"Don't lie to me, Sweetheart."

The pet name sent a little burst of affection though my mind, especially with the way his voice dropped whenever he said it. A delicate balance of condescending and genuine. Nevertheless, he knew I was bullshitting him. Sometimes I swore he was force sensitive, with the way he could read me. I set my cup down on the counter behind me before turning back to face him.

"I am so tired all the time," I started, hands flying with the force of the emotion pushing the words out, finally said out loud instead of rattling around in my head. "I feel stupid, I feel like if I threw myself out of the airlock the next officer under me would take my place and nobody would miss me, I feel like I'm just a waste of-"

I didn't register Hux walking across the room towards me but before I knew it, both of my wildly motioning wrists were firmly caught in his gloved hands. I didn't struggle, the warm leather a sort of soothing restraint.

"You are not a waste of space. How many do so much less than you, and are still allowed to succeed? To exist, even?" His voice was level, if not a little sarcastic. When I looked up, his eyes were already locked onto mine. He arched an eyebrow and continued.

"You have suffered to get where you are. And you will suffer more before you're done."

The grip on my wrists loosened, and I dropped my hands to my sides. My body seemed colder now. His hands came up to rest on my shoulders, and I entertained the thought of embracing him for a moment before he continued.

"But you have fire. Ambition. The same drive as I do, and you will reap your just rewards before you're done."

"I know. But I feel like it shouldn't be this easy. So many promotions in so little time, so much responsibility. Where is the senior officer that comes to yell at me, to tell me that I'm manipulative and scheming, and that my ruse is up? I don't feel deserving." My eyes dropped from his as I spoke, settling on Millicent walking across the counter behind him.

His hands dropped from my shoulders, and again I missed the warmth of his touch.

"You could work yourself to death. You could never stop, fly through the ranks, come to sit at my side as an equal. You have the eye for military strategy. I could even give you a new position that I created, I could make this easy for you." He seemed nauseated by the mere suggestion, a sneer curling his upper lip.

"But it would be an insult to you for someone to just throw success in your lap. You and I both know that power and respect are earned. Keep working. No one is coming to tear you down if you don't give them the chance."

For some reason, the last sentence brought to mind the assassination he greenlighted of his abusive father. He was drunk when he shared that story with me, but it had sent a shiver down my spine. Cutthroat.

"You will be tired, you will ache. You will suffer. And you will keep going." He was still looking at me, but his eyes weren't completely focused. It sounded like these were things he told himself, and not something he thought of just for me. In that moment, I understood what drew us together.

I stepped forwards and finally embraced him, and he froze for a moment before he hugged me back. He usually did. That sort of thing came with the territory of being overworked, paranoid, and touch starved. I turned my head so my ear rested on his chest and I closed my eyes. He smelled like subtle and expensive cologne, the stiff fabric of his uniform body-warm and lint-free. The steady rise and fall of his chest could fool me into thinking we were the only two people aboard the Finalizer, the only two people in the galaxy, for a few blissful moments.

After what felt like years, or maybe seconds, I stepped back. He looked down at me, the ghost of a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.

"Sometimes, you just need someone to tell you that you can do it."

[subconcern]

there is a lot to be said about season 4 mike and his behavior, especially in the roller rink scene. aka in how mike reacted, both towards will and towards the bullying that happened towards jane. i don't completely agree with his actions (in terms of believing that was how he wouldve behaved), and it definitely felt a little out of character. whether that was intentional or poor writing on the duffer brothers' part depends on the direction they take his character into during season 5. but if i apply my own headcanons onto it, i can try to make sense of why acted the way he did, even if it was a little unusual for him.

if it hasn't been made clear already on this blog: i headcanon mike as homosexual homoromantic. everyone is entitled to their own interpretation. some headcanon him as bisexual biromantic, & i respect/can see that. but for me, the argument between will and mike at the roller rink (and then their makeup back at the byers house) really solidifies my interpretation.

here are a few things i've noticed about mike's behavior in this scene:

he is unfortunately paying a lot more attention to will than to jane.

they do not interact a whole lot before the argument. his body language in the airport was clearly uncomfortable (which i will get to in another post), but at the rink, mike is being smiley and playful. he mostly addresses his affections towards jane, which of course he would be, because even if he doesn't like or love her in that way they're still friends above anything else. he cracks a joke about his "vomit green" socks and briefly turns to will for acknowledgment, from whom he gets virtually none. this quickly discourages him and he turns his head, focusing back onto jane. he's embarrassed that will isn't responding the way he wanted him to.

when jane is approached by angela and her bullies, both jane and will's body languages shift. jane is obviously unsure of what to say and what angela might say to mike. angela's tone is nasty. she is being condescending the entire time. mike is excited to meet jane's friends, and for some reason doesn't 100% pick up on this behavior, even though jane is clearly nervous/uncomfortable, not as happy as she would be to see someone she's told mike is her friend. he thinks everyone's being a little weird at most, but he's still nodding along, not really paying attention the way he should be. his mind is elsewhere. he's confused when they drag jane away but he doesn't get up or take a second glance. he just looks back down into his milkshake and drinks it.

mike is not stupid. hes not always good with romantic encounters and knowing if someone likes him or not but he can tell when someone is being a jerk. his behavior here tells me he is not 100% there. if he knew that angela was being rude, he wouldn't have just let them take away jane so easily.

when will tells her she's been having trouble and they have their fight, their argument turns into something else completely. he tells will everything he has been noticing even though we've hardly seen him address will at all. according to mike, will was being a "douche." "you were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking. you basically sabotaged the whole day." mike was talking to jane and trying to enjoy spending time with her, but in the back of his head, he was very clearly paying a lot of attention to will if he was noticing how he was 'moping' the entire time.

2. mike doesn't jump onto the rollerrink immediately to help jane.

many people (including myself) think he could've done a lot more than what he does when he sees what's going on. but here's what i note: mike goes through a thought process here. the first thing he does is examine the situation. he stands up quickly, sees how they're antagonizing jane. he's confused, and is becoming increasingly concerned for her. but then the music turns on and it becomes very very clear what this is.

mike knows jane. he doesn't always get it right when it comes to their relationship but he knows her. if the music is blasting like that and everyone's eyes are on her, screaming and laughing, she is bound to get overstimulated. he knows this. we see her overstimulation being portrayed through the camera as it does a fast blur effect around jane and everyone in the rink. everything is happening so fast. the first thing he thinks to do is stop the noise. for her sake. that is why he runs to yell at the dj. it's not a very well thought out move on his part, but it was well intentioned.

3. the argument with will turns into something else very quickly, but mike is reading it in a completely different way.

will has been very clearly stated by noah himself and in the final episodes of the show to have romantic feelings for mike. he is canonically gay. but the way he delivers the line of "what about us?" makes mike incredibly stiff and defensive almost immediately. we've seen this happen previously, specifically season 3, during the rain scene. it seems that every time will confronts mike about being a bad friend, mike gets stressed out about it in the most specific way. season 3's "it's not my fault you don't like girls," versus season 4's "we're friends. we're friends." mike is projecting. will doesn't seem to even be thinking about the situation romantically at all, even after he says this. will doesn't miss a beat in saying, "we used to be best friends." but the way mike emphasizes the fact that they're friends (which was never stated otherwise by will, and wasn't even what he meant?) feels like such a clear case of him projecting his own conflicting emotions onto will, again.

he would not have taken the statement the same if it had been dustin or lucas saying it, i can guarantee that. but for some reason, whenever will gets onto the topic of their strained friendship, mike gets very touchy. he does not know how to deal with his feelings towards will and how their dynamic has ultimately changed and has been changing. this explains the uncomfortable hug at the airport, and the way he only faintly tries to address will maybe once and is quickly embarrassed by will's lack of response and doesn't try it again, opting to just keep "ignoring him" instead.

mike also does not mention the fact that he has been trying to call will the whole time. dustin states in a later episode that the byers' line is always occupied and that mike complains about it. mike and jane's main form of communication seems to be letters. whether this is a personal or safety choice is up in the air. but if mike was supposedly only calling for jane, why is his defense to will: "maybe you should've reached out more"? if mike knew he was secretly intentionally ignoring will during their long distance friendship, he wouldn't have said anything like that at all. but he lets himself slip up on the fact that yes, he was bothered by the fact that will didn't call him much. he might've been trying this whole time every now and then, but with scarcely any luck, i don't really see him keeping up with it if he's noticing that will isn't calling him back when joyce is finally off the phone.

4. mike's unusual anger towards jane for sticking up for herself.

there are a couple reasons i can see mike getting mad at her for standing up to bullies even though he's never had a problem with it before. in season 1 when jane hurts the party's bullies, it isn't directly traceable back to her. sure, a girl with telekenetic powers made troy pee himself and broke his arm, but what adult would believe that?

in season 4, the stakes are very different. jane is trying to have a normal life now. there is still a chance, even without her powers, that the lab could find her (which they do.) mike is a chronic worrier. what jane did to angela could have been very serious. not that she didn't deserve it, but real world actions like that have real world consequences, aka, jane getting arrested. he didn't want her to get in trouble. things like that don't just go away. he knows this, and it's why he's mad. but it's not even really him being mad at her at all, just really scared for her. and when mike gets scared for the people he cares about, he gets loud and frustrated. he's a child who didn't grow up given the open tools to express himself. this is also shown in season 2, when he is angry with jim hopper for hiding jane but really just drowning in a sense of relief that she was alive and a fear of how she was living without any contact with her friends this whole life. and again, in season 3, when he gets mad at max and in turn everyone else for being "careless" with jane's powers. he's not necessarily mad at them as much as he's scared of what might happen to her if she pushes herself too far. he doesn't want to lose her.

mike has never had a problem with standing up to a bully, especially for a friend. but the fact that jane put herself in a position where she might get in serious trouble, worried him, and that worry manifested into hostility towards her, the same way he turns hostile towards will when will didn't tell him that jane has been having problems at school.

my conclusion is this: mike has always been a moody kid. it's pretty much the staple of his character. but this has always been because he doesn't know how to express himself any other way. he wasn't raised to be so open and vulnerable with his feelings. the handful of times he is vulnerable and open about how he is feeling (not just with actions but with WORDS) is when he is with jane (this is a very thin claim because even with her he really struggles to both comfort her and tell her what's really going on with him, stuttering his way through and not being direct), but especially with will.

he is open and honest with will after they have a fight. he accepts responsibility for his poor actions. he admits to will that he was scared of losing him. he doesn't do this in a sincere way with anyone else. it comes out naturally to him with will. he doesn't need to be told to apologize or what to say, he just does it. will is his safe space and he struggles without him. jane is probably second closest to his heart and he can't stand the thought of losing her again. he is moody because he's upset. because he's scared. everything is changing and he feels like he's facing it alone.

this does NOT excuse his behavior towards his friends (this is referring to jane, will, but ALSO lucas), as much as i'm trying to provide some insight on his thought process and his inner conflicts throughout season 4, seeing as we don't get a lot from his point of view at all. i'm hoping season 5 wraps up his character arc nicely, because to me, there's a lot there that he has been struggling with since season 1. whether it be his home life, his sexuality, his fear of getting older, or all three, i guess we'll have to see.

[thenewgirl76]

@jedipirateking ok, took some time to get my thoughts together. so hopefully I'll be able to get my point across clearly without any sugarcoating while not coming across as an outright bitch.

I get it. it is pretty annoying seeing your favorite characters portrayed in a seemingly mean spirited non-flattering light while propping up other characters in the process. I experience similar feelings of irritation when it comes to some Batman Beyond/Batman fanfic crossovers.(if you can even call it that given they both come from the same franchise)

that said, this is where our common ground ends. because though I sympathize with your frustration it's not enough to overlook the attitude you had that first put you on my radar. now to be perfectly clear, I'm in no way condoning anyone that thought gloating over you being homeless was justifiable in any way. that was taking things way too far and completely uncalled for.

but I have to ask, when you come onto a dpxdc post and act like a entitled, condescending, canon nazi fanbrat the way you did here:

"Good right up until Supes picks up Sam.

Can we please stop Over Powering the Danny Phantom characters?

How about this:

Supes laser eyes Sam into a boiled puddle messy goop in his mind controlled state.

Which is more in character than Sam somehow beating up THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN DC.

If you're not going to get it even close to right, why write it?"

then when the more reasonable individuals voiced their displeasure, gave responses like this:

1."Nothing is mentioned in the post about their origins.

Unless it was hidden in the tags. Which is a shit place to put that since it is a MAJOR PLOT POINT.

I've said this once, I'm going to say it again in caps this time just for legibility. Probably going to make it green too.

IF YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RESPECT THE CANON OF BOTH SOURCES, WHY ARE YOU WRITING A CROSSOVER AND NOT SOME OC?

Did some bold, too. Seemed a good idea.

Seriously, this is well written. Like I'd have read this, and enjoyed it, if it was New Kryptonian and New Ghostly people having a throw down.

Fuck! It's Danny and Sam on a DATE! Do you realize how rare that is in this fandom???

I was prepared to overlook a lot. Really. But even Zod chokes when Supes has him by the throat."

2.You just want your guy to be the strongest OP guy in the room again. That makes for a boring story at this point.

This fandom is stagnant. =(

added onto how you keep showing up with "I like this/don't like this", giving the impression that the post needs your stamp of approval, what did you think was gonna happen? again not saying I approve of people making fun of you being homeless or that you deserved it, please understand that. neither can I guarantee it wouldn't have happened if you'd acted differently. but you have to admit, you kinda set yourself up for that. particularly nasty fans itching for an excuse to unleash said nastiness are a thing remember? hence why, aside from finding more satisfaction venting in my own space I don't act confrontational in this manner no matter how frustrated I get over the treatment of my favorite characters.

all in all, your desire to provide knowledge on DC canon and dislike of how your preferred characters are usually handled in dpxdc crossovers isn't what I'm taking issue with. after all thewitchhunter uses their posts to do the same thing and I've never had any negative feelings about it. it's the fact that you come across as extremely pushy (to me if no one else) due to how you acted so needlessly aggressive beforehand towards someone that wasn't even a hatebrat doing mindless character bashing, just a bit of unintentional flanderization at worst then behaved like you did nothing wrong when you got backlash that's doing it. it just reminds me of a now infamous someone associated with the Sonic fandom that I also happen to be a part of.

once again, I hopefully managed to get my point across with zero sugar coating without coming across as an outright bitch. If I failed on the latter, all I can say is sorry I tried.

DPxDC and OOC

I've had a couple of posts cross my dash recently where people lament that a lot of the dpxdc fandom writes characters very OOC and how we're proliferating these characterizations among each other. I figured I'd add my own two cents.

I think the fundamental discrepancy comes from trying to reconcile two canons with vastly different tones.

Danny Phantom is a comedy superhero show operating on cartoon logic. Why do ghost experts Jack and Maddie never realize their own kid is a ghost? Why is the status quo restored at the end of every episode? Why does Danny shoot an ectoblast out of his butt that one time? Because it's funny. It's cartoony action fun where the plot is resolved in 22 minutes, there's never any lasting consequences and it's aimed at kids.

DC meanwhile wants to be taken Seriously. Heroes get beaten within an inch of their life, traumatized, killed and even the good guys do messed up things (often to each other). Yes there's action and puns, but also horrific violence, actions have consequences and it's (mostly) aimed at adults. When a main character dies the comics show their family and friends mourning and things are very dramatic. Even though at this point we, the audience can pretty much expect every death to be undone within 2-5 years of publishing, but I digress.

So how do we, the fanfic/fanart creators reconcile these differences when we make our crossovers? We either make DP more serious and somber, or we make DC more comedic.

Suddenly we have a DP verse where the Fentons' bumbling obliviousness is elevated to serious neglect or outright abuse. The GiW are no longer a minor annoyance, they are a serious threat with genocidal plans and a desire to vivisect the protagonist. When actions have consequences, we imagine Danny as dealing with serious PTSD from having to be a solo superhero and witnessing his family's death that one time (and maybe also getting vivisected). Danny is not just a teen superhero, he's now the Ghost King with serious responsibility on his shoulders.

On the flipside, if we make DC more comedic we tend to exaggerate character traits for comedic effect, focus more on the interpersonal dynamics (especially the Batfam) and have the characters act more casual and silly. Suddenly the Batfam goes from a group of seriously messed up individuals who have trouble communicating with each other and fight all the time to Batdad "Kids if you don't stop killing criminals you won't get dessert ffs" Bruce. Violence is played for laughs instead of taken seriously. Yeah they fight, but they still Love Each Other.

And THIS IS PERFECTLY FINE. It's transformative work! And trying to reconcile these disparate fandoms is hard! Fandom is a labor of love. We do it for free. We do it for our own entertainment. And no one is forcing you to read fics you don't like. DLDR and all that.

[nel-world]

hi--

Scene 1: Arthur Discovers the Letters

INT. PENNY AND ARTHUR’S RUNDOWN APARTMENT – NIGHT

The room is dimly lit, cluttered with old furniture and papers. Penny lies weak in bed, her breathing shallow. Arthur, cleaning up, discovers a stack of letters addressed to “Thomas Wayne.” Confusion clouds his face as he flips through them.

ARTHUR (holding up the letters) Mom... you’ve been writing to Thomas Wayne?

PENNY (weakly, with effort) He owes us, Arthur. He promised your father. He’s the only one who can help now.

ARTHUR (frowning, flipping through the letters) Why didn’t you tell me?

PENNY (her voice frail) He was supposed to make things right... your father trusted him. Wayne’s the reason we lost everything... but he’ll come through. Just remind him. He’ll help you.

ARTHUR (conflicted, anger building) You’ve been waiting all these years, and nothing’s changed. You still believe he’s going to help?

PENNY (desperate, clinging to hope) He will, Arthur. You’ll see. Just go to him. He’ll remember.

Arthur, holding the letters tightly, glances at his mother, unsure whether to believe her. His face hardens, and he storms out of the room.

Scene 2: Arthur Confronts Wayne About the Past

INT. WAYNE’S PRIVATE OFFICE – NIGHT

Arthur sneaks into Wayne’s lavish office, his steps unsteady but determined. He holds the stack of letters in hand as he approaches Wayne’s desk. Wayne sits, sipping whiskey, calm and indifferent as Arthur enters.

WAYNE (without looking up) What do you want? This is a private office.

ARTHUR (voice shaky, stepping forward) You destroyed my father. He trusted you. You took everything from him!

Wayne glances up at Arthur, now recognizing him but showing no concern.

WAYNE (calm, condescending) Your father? Right. He was one of those men who couldn’t handle this city. Weak. Happens all the time.

ARTHUR (voice trembling with emotion) He thought you were partners! You ruined him. And you left us with nothing. My mother... she’s been writing to you for years, waiting for you to fix it.

WAYNE (leaning back, amused) Your father’s failure isn’t my responsibility. He wasn’t strong enough to survive Gotham. That’s how this city works. You either crush, or you get crushed.

Arthur’s fists clench as the weight of Wayne’s indifference sinks in. His eyes flash with a mix of anger and disbelief.

ARTHUR (gritting his teeth) You destroyed us. My mother still thinks you’re going to help. But you never cared.

WAYNE (cold, standing up) I did what had to be done. And now you come here whining, expecting what? Sympathy? You’re no different than your father—another nobody who couldn’t survive.

Scene 2.5: Arthur Posts About Wayne on Social Media

INT. ARTHUR’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

Arthur sits in front of his old laptop, his face tense and focused. His hands hover over the keyboard as he begins typing furiously, exposing everything he knows about Wayne’s betrayal of his father. He posts the letters his mother wrote, along with pictures of Wayne and his father together, attaching bitter captions accusing Wayne of greed and corruption.

ARTHUR (V.O.) (whispering to himself as he types) People need to see the truth. They need to know who you really are. You can’t hide behind your money forever.

Arthur clicks “POST,” and within minutes, the post starts gaining attention. Comments flood in—some mocking, others in agreement. Arthur stares at the screen as his mind swirls with a mixture of rage and satisfaction.

Scene 3: Arthur’s Fight with Wayne’s Men (Abandoned Warehouse)

EXT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

Arthur is dragged out of a black SUV by two of Wayne’s henchmen. His hands are bound behind his back. They shove him into a dark, decrepit warehouse. The space is empty, cold, and filled with the sounds of dripping water. One of the men lights a cigarette, tossing a match onto the ground where gasoline has been spread.

HENCHMAN 1 (mocking, as he pushes Arthur to the ground) You thought you could post that crap about Mr. Wayne and get away with it? He owns this city. You’re just a bug he’s about to squash.

HENCHMAN 2 (laughing, flicking the match onto the gasoline) Enjoy the show, freak.

The fire ignites, spreading quickly around the room. Arthur, tied to a chair, watches as the flames grow closer. His face, though panicked at first, starts to relax. He laughs quietly, then louder and louder as the fire inches toward him.

WAYNE (V.O.) (echoing through Arthur’s mind) Your father was weak. You’re weak. People like you get eaten alive in Gotham.

Arthur grins wildly as the flames reach him, but he remains unfazed. His ropes burn away, freeing his hands. He stands, walking through the fire toward the henchmen. His laughter echoes through the warehouse.

ARTHUR (grinning, voice calm) I’m not afraid anymore.

Scene 4: Arthur’s Escape and Transformation

INT. BURNING WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

The fire rages around Arthur, but he moves through it with newfound confidence, fighting off the henchmen one by one. He grabs a metal pipe and swings it with savage precision, taking them down with brutal efficiency.

He pauses, looking at his reflection in a broken mirror on the wall. His face is smeared with soot, and his eyes burn with a manic intensity. The fire illuminates his features as he realizes that the flames, like his rage, have consumed him but not destroyed him.

ARTHUR (V.O.) (whispering, grinning at his reflection) I don’t burn. I rise.

He walks through the warehouse’s flames, leaving the destruction behind.

Scene 5: Final Confrontation – Joker vs. Wayne

EXT. WAYNE MANSION – NIGHT

Arthur, now fully transformed into the Joker, stands outside Wayne’s mansion. He watches as Wayne exits his car, oblivious to the figure waiting in the shadows. Wayne pauses when he sees Joker standing there, smiling menacingly.

WAYNE (irritated, but slightly uneasy) You again? What now? Come to beg for help?

JOKER (ARTHUR) (smiling darkly) Beg? No. I’m done asking for anything. It’s time you see what happens when everything you built starts to burn.

WAYNE (mocking, stepping closer) You don’t understand how the world works. It’s about power, money, control. People like you don’t matter.

JOKER (ARTHUR) (laughing, shaking his head) No, you still don’t get it, do you? It’s not about money. It’s about chaos. And I’m here to watch it all burn.

Joker flicks a lighter, setting fire to the bushes surrounding the mansion. The flames quickly spread, reflecting in Wayne’s eyes as he stares in shock. Joker walks away, leaving Wayne standing in the growing blaze, his world collapsing.

[cheolhub]

DUMB!FICATION! ⌇BTS REACTIONS ࿐

— PROMPT: bts members reaction to you going dumb during sex

— PAIRING: members x f!reader

— GENRE: smut. 18+ minors dni.

— WARNINGS: um.. dumb!fication! teasing, joon being kinda mean :,(, size kink <3 unprotected sex, soft!dom jin, mean!dom yoongi, slight exhibitionism, heavy degradation, edging (?), super soft!dom hobi <3 (im shocked), fingering, praise, jimin and tae r both feral, overstimulation, oral f!receiving, multiple cream���s, SOFT!DOM KOO <3

— A.NOTE: HI i know i’ve been AWOL, but im here & i come bearing gifts <3 happy october!! p.s. im not sure if this classifies as reactions but enjoy nonetheless (jk’s is so long hes been bias wrecking me im sorry) p.s.s. ive posted this 5 times so hopefully it shows up this time

KIM NAMJOON ࿐

you had been unnecessarily needy for namjoon’s attention throughout the entire day. you truly couldn’t help yourself with how big and handsome he looked even while doing the tiniest tasks. he’d had enough, though, when you decided to straddle him at the end of the day while he was reading his book. slightly irritated that he was now hard, he put you to work, claiming if you want something, you gotta do it yourself.

“needy fuckin’ girl,” he mutters, laying back against the plush pillows as his hands gripped tightly onto your waist. they guide you on grinding against his pelvis with his cock stirring up your insides. “baby wanted to be split open all day long and now she can’t even do it herself can she?” he pouts, feigning faux sympathy.

his condescending words go through one of your ears and straight out the other. “please, please, please!” you beg, hiccuping slightly as his cock rubs right against your g-spot. 

“what are you beggin’ for, baby, hmm?” he asks, curiously. “you already have my cock stuffed in you, what more could you possibly want?”

you choke on your words as your mind numbs, “j-joon!”

“awww,” he coos, finally comprehending the situation. “pretty baby’s gone dumb just by sitting on my cock, yeah?” he says with a smirk, bucking his hips into you.

mindlessly, you nod with fervor crying out his name again with a mantra of pleads. “hah! ye-yeah, fuck! joon, please!”

he shakes his head, biting back a smile. he feels himself throbbing inside of you merely because of how sexy you look in this fucked out state. “tell me what you want, angel, i know you can do that for me,”

his voice is so deep that you swear you can feel it vibrating your entire body, yet you manage to find the words to tell him what you so desperately need. “w-wan’na cum,”

he smiles, humming softly, “so fuckin’ cute,” he mutters under his breath. “gonna make sure my baby cums, don’t you worry.”

KIM SEOKJIN ࿐

it’s an accident, truly. usually after work, seokjin is on his knees for you– eating you out, fucking you with three fingers, making you cum and gush all over his face. but today was different. today jin was frustrated and stressed and genuinely annoyed with how his day went. being the amazing girlfriend you are, you offered to please him today– to let him have his way with you. little did you know, he was a little more pent-up than you had assumed. 

“princess, fuck,” he moans, fucking his hard cock into your cunt. “feels so good, you always feel so good around me.” he practically says through grit teeth. 

he stands over your quivering body with a bruising clasp on your hips. his thrusts are quick, hard, and shallow; nonetheless, he’s hitting every spot he needs to. you’ve already cum twice, but you want to give it all to him with the day he’s had.

you feel dizzy, mind buzzing with infinite pleasure as he unravels the knot again and again.“hngh,” you moan, words garbled as you can’t seem to form any. “fuh– fuuuck!” you sob starting to feel overstimulated, hands gripping for life on his forearms. 

his speed falters, snapping out of his state of frustration. “princess?” he questions, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

you whine when he stops altogether, “jiiin!” you cry for him, back arching to get him to resume. “n-more, mph, need more!” you slur, incoherent noises slipping past your lips. 

 he must not have realized that he fucked you beyond limits and is starting to feel bad that he took his frustration out on you. he attempts to retract himself from your body, but you wrap your legs around him tightly, keeping him inside of you. 

you muster all the words your spinning head will allow, “need your c-cock, jin, please,”

he looks into your pleading eyes and his guilt melts away. his speed picks up and is keen on the way you squeal, getting lost in the way he fucks you once more. you attempt to tell him to never stop, but the words die on your tongue and seokjin can’t help but smile at your dumb state.

“shhh, just take it, baby, i got you,” he whispers. “leave all the thinking to me.”

MIN YOONGI ࿐

you love yoongi, you do. truly! but it’s hard to provoke him with his undying patience and cool, cat-like demeanor that made him seem emotionless. it’s hard to get him to fuck you like an animal the way you so desperately need. that’s not to say it never happens. even though it’s hard to evoke a reaction, it’s not impossible. nights like tonight where you’re flirting with every moving thing in the bar. nights like tonight where you’re not wearing underwear and making sure yoongi knows. nights like tonight where you’re bent over the bar’s dirty bathroom sink with his hand laced into your hair as he's pounding into you just the way you hoped he would. 

“look at you,” he grunts, pulling your hair roughly to look into the cloudy mirror. you look at your face, watery mascara streaks staining your face and your lipstick smudged all around your mouth. “fucking slut,” he scoffs.

you moan in agreement, his cock dragging against your sweet spot. replying to him is the last thing on your mind. with the way he’s fucking you, the only thing you can think about is his dick and getting off on his rough behavior. 

“think it’s cute to throw yourself around? to look so fucking desperate?” he grits through his teeth as his thrusts punctuate every word. “you just wanted my attention, isn’t that right?”

you nod your head, hoping the high-pitched moans and your incessant movements answer his question because god knows you can’t say anything. 

he chuckles breathily, “yeah? acting like a slut so i can fuck you like this?”

you clench around him tightly at his words and he takes that as his answer, snapping his hips into you with more vigor. you moan loudly, more tears running down your cheeks. 

“all you had to do was ask, baby,” he mutters, feeling himself throb inside you at the sound of your pretty voice. even with the loud thumping of the music outside, he still basks in the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and your cries. “no, but you’re too cockdrunk now to say thank you, huh?” 

“th-thank yo– yoongi!” your apology is cut short by the scream of his name. his cock consistently ramming into your body’s most sensitive spot and you can’t hold back anymore. “cumming!” you cry. 

he hums, stopping his movements and you cry out in protest again, “did i fuck you so stupid you forgot the rules? bad girls don’t get to cum, sweetheart.”

JUNG HOSEOK ࿐

it’s safe to say that every time you get sexual with hoseok, you go absolutely stupid forgetting everything except his name and the feeling of his mouth or hands or his perfect cock. today was no different, yet he’d come at you with a much different approach. his usual degradation and harsh movements were replaced with the sweetest praise and merciful touch. 

“you’ve been such a good girl for me lately, doll,” he whispers into your ear, gently pressing soft pecks around the area which is a stark contrast to what his fingers were doing. he has you in between his legs and your back pressed to his chest with your legs wide open while he fucks three of his big fingers into your soaked cunt. “haven’t been too rough, have i?”

you shake your head, “no, no! love when you’re rough!” your words come out pleadingly. you feel so full just with his fingers that it’s almost mind-numbing.

he chuckles, the pad of his thumb moving to lazily rub circles into your clit simultaneously. you gasp, twitching in his arms and clamping around his fingers. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he mumbles, starting to trail his pecks down your neck. “so pretty ‘n good… all f’me.”

the praise goes straight to your core and makes your brain go haywire. praise isn’t a foreign concept from hobi, it’s more that you weren’t expecting that. 

“mph, y-yeah, hoseok, all yours,” you whine breathily, throwing your head back on his shoulder providing more access to your neck. you can’t help but let your brain turn to mush at his words and actions. mindlessly, you clamp around his fingers as you attempt to fuck his hand.

“yeah? you love being my cute lil fucktoy?” he questions gently before noticing the way your body starts withering under his touch. his breath tickles the skin on your neck making you hypersensitive. “gonna cum, baby?”

“hnggh, baby…” you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

hobi lets out a soft laugh, “don’t tell me you’ve already gone dumb on me, dollface.” he jokes, but it makes his cock twitch knowing that even the slight touch of his fingers has your brain going haywire. when you moan in reply, he simply hums, “that’s alright, pretty, just cum for me, yeah?”

PARK JIMIN ࿐

jimin is crazy about you. insane, if you will. he likes to show you that by shoving his head between your thighs and devouring you till you’re a puddle of mush all for him. he eats you out like he hasn’t eaten in weeks like you’re the last thing he’ll get a taste of. it’s mostly because he loves the way you taste, but he can’t deny how much he loves the way you babble dumbly for his cock in this state. it’s kind of sadistic, but you never complain. not even when you’re overstimulated and reduced to choked sobs and quivering limbs.

“minnie!” you cry, hands laced into his hair as you pull on his roots. he groans into your pussy, eliciting another high-pitched whine from you. “f-fuck, baby! i-i can’t!”

he’s been in between your legs for at least half an hour now, ripping orgasms from your poor body left and right and you both know that you’re close to tapping out mentally, but you know in your bones that’s what he wants that to happen. 

“come on, angel, for me?” he moans, hands squeezing the flesh of your plush, trembling thighs. “please cum for me, tastes so fucking good,” he begs and you can’t resist his pleading voice or pretty moans…

so you do. you cum. hard. you cum with your back arched and both of your hands carded through his silky hair as you push him further into your wet core. you cum grinding against his face to ride out your orgasm as your body is wracked with sobs and gasps. you cum so hard you swear you’ve completely left earth, but jimin’s voice brings you back down. 

“baby, shhh,” he shushes, hands rubbing your thighs gently in an attempt to stop them from shaking uncontrollably. “are you alright?”

you moan breathily at his question as you nod your head, your brain genuinely unable to provide a verbal answer for him. you make grabby hands at him and he knows exactly what it means having done this more times than he can count. he leans in pressing his lips to yours, swallowing all of your tiny whimpers and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“wan’ your cock,” you mumble against his lips after a few minutes. 

he smiles widely knowing he has you right where he wants you.

KIM TAEHYUNG ࿐

taehyung has a knack for fucking you until you can’t even remember your own name. he loves your tears, your pretty cries, your begs where he can’t tell what you’re asking for– he loves it all. but what he doesn’t realize is that he gets just as dumb as you. he rambles on and on about you and how much he loves your cunt while fucking his previous loads into you with his sensitive cock. 

“taehyung!” you sob, your fingernails digging into his broad shoulders, sure to leave a mark. your drenched, your body covered with a sheen layer of sweat, tears slipping down your face, pussy overflowing with your mixed cum– but this is how taehyung likes it. he loves it messy.

“pussy’s so fuckin’ good– fuck! you’re such a good fuckin’ girl takin’ all of my cock,” he moans, eyes threatening to roll back as he’s overcome with intense pleasure. his cock fucks you open, cum seeping out of your worn pussy every time he pulls out. 

you can’t stop the tears from falling down your face. you’ve lost track of how many times you cum around him, but you could care less. you feel so good even with how sensitive you are. he’s making you feel so fucking good, and hearing that you’re doing the same for him has your head spinning even more. 

you clench around him and he whines your name out. “b-baby, how are you still so fuckin’ tight?” his voice wavers, and you clench around him again. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again. gonna fill you up even more, pretty girl, you want that?”

when you don’t reply, taehyung’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles into the swollen bud. you gasp loudly, “tae! shit, fuck, i-i-”

“i asked if my good girl wanted my cum?” he pants, giving you deeper thrusts, sensitive tip rubbing against your velvet walls making him shake. 

“i do! i do!” you plead nearly choking on a sob as you feel the tight rope in the pit of your stomach snap, soaking him with your cum. 

that’s all it takes for taehyung, going still once he’s pressed himself deep inside of you. he twitches once, twice and after the third time, you feel the warmth of his load filling you to the brim, dressing your used walls in your favorite shade of white. 

“fuck, i love you,” he says before collapsing next to you.

JEON JUNGKOOK ࿐

jungkook hates to see you so sad. so dejected, unable to even look him in the eye. you don’t deserve that, you don’t deserve to feel so shitty. he knows work is hard for you some days and he knows you hate your boss and your pretentious coworkers, he just doesn’t know why you put up with it. 

“baby, talk to me, please?” he pleads as you lay on the bed at the end of the night with your back facing him. “what happened, angel? did someone say something to you again?”

you shrug, mumbling out, “‘m just tired of thinkin’ about it, koo, can we just drop it and go to bed?” 

jungkook sighs, placing a hand on your arm, shaking you gently to turn and look at him, “look at me,” he whispers and when you finally do with a pout on your face, he smiles. “there she is, my pretty girl.”

a blush creeps up your neck and face and your stomach churns at his soft words. “koo, stop…”

“i wanna help you, Y/N,” he whispers, leaning into you. “lemme help you forget today, yeah? wanna make you feel so good that you forget, can i do that?”

you want to cry, nodding your head and taking a deep breath.

he kisses you gently, taking his time with you before letting his pace pick up. soon you find yourself aching underneath him, thighs sticking together with your arousal and head whirling with need. 

as he pushes himself inside of you, rocking in and out of you, you feel all your worries leave your body. tears sting your eyes before you ultimately decide to close them and turn off your brain to bask in the pleasure your sweet boyfriend is giving you.

you moan his name out softly and he groans back, “such a pretty little thing,” he mumbles, pushing his head in the crook of your neck. he places wet kisses on the sensitive skin. 

“koo… fuck…” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he’s fucking you as deep as he can go. “f-fuck, feels… feels s-so… good,” you all but slur, taking the near incoherency of your words as a sign to shut up before you begin to babble nonsense. 

“don’t know why you work so hard, gorgeous,” he whispers into your ear, continuing to fuck you nice and deep. “wanna take care of you forever, don’t wanna see you sad like this,” his voice wavers with his words when you clamp tightly around him at the mention of ‘forever.’ 

he smiles against your neck, leaving a feathery kiss before reminding you, “you don’t have to think about them anymore, angel, ‘m here, alright? gonna make you feel so fucking good n’ have you cum till you don’t remember those assholes.” 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

week 3 - day 11 - kinktober - overstimulation and semi-public sex - coach lance tucker x assistant coach reader.

warning - overstimulation and semi-public sex.

kinktober masterlist

18+ only please, the gifs and headers aren’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Y/n walks into the locker room and begins to strip down. The day she had was quite stressful. Especially with being the assistant coach to Lance Tucker, she hears a door open and footsteps come close, not being able to grab her clothes quick enough as the person has already come around the corner.

Standing there with a cocky smirk was the famous Lance Tucker, his dark eyes trailing down her body, and his pants tightened as he took in her cute little body. Her plump breasts sit soft and full on her chest, and between her legs, there’s a nicely trimmed pretty pussy, Lance’s eyes slowly trace every inch of her body with his eyes before meeting hers. Lance licks his lips with a dark glint in his eyes before slowly moving forward.

“Did you really think that we were finished? There’s still more that I need to teach you, kitten.” He’s close enough that she can see the stubble growing, close enough for her to smell him, causing her mind to go fuzzy. Lance’s right-hand travels up her naked body, skimming her breast before settling on her cheek. He leans down and smiles. “If you want to be a great coach, you must get through this lesson. Do you think you can do that, kitten? Think you’re dumb little brain will let you understand what I teach you?” His condescending tone goes through one ear and out the other.

His hand grips her chin and moves her head up and down before he steps back and stares her down. “Lie down on the bench, kitten and spread your legs” Y/n opens her mouth to argue but quickly shuts it when her gaze meets his dark one. She gets onto the bench and lies her naked body against it, legs on either side. Her glistening folds are on view for anyone to see, and her nipples harden from the cold.

Lance moves closer and runs his hand up her leg and to the inner of her thigh, feeling her squeeze her thighs together when he gets too close to her core. “Uh, uh, kitten. Keep them open, or there will be consequences.” Y/n shyly opens her legs, her gaze locked on her instructor, her mentor. “Good girl,” his fingers skimmed her wet lips before locating her clit and beginning to rub figure eights. Causing Y/n’s back to arch and her eyes to roll to the back of her head. Moans fall from her lips as she’s never experienced this amount of pleasure.

Lance continues his quick movements against her clit, his cock hardening when she cums from just this. He moves a finger down to her hole, collecting the juices that leak from her. Lance slowly pushed a finger inside, hearing his cute little assistant squeal, as she had never felt this full. “Fuck kitten, I’ve only put one finger in, and it’s already such a tight fucking fit.” Wiggling it inside her small hole before thrusting it in and out, he curls it up and hits her sweet spot causing Y/n to curl into herself as she screams.

Lance wants to see how many times he can make her cum, and he’ll use each finger and maybe his cock. His dumb little assistant will be so fucked out and overstimulated that she’ll always be begging for him. He smirks at the thought.

Y/n’s back arches when she feels her core tighten again, and a white-hot flash flushes through her as she cums. Her cunt tightened around Lance’s finger and squeezed it, “Jesus – fuck kitten. You’re so fucking tight. I can’t wait to get my cock in there.” He continues to move his finger around even though Y/n tries to wiggle away from him, complaining that she’s too sensitive. “You're going to have to suck it up, kitten or your not good enough to be my assistant.”

Her wide eyes stare at him, filling with tears, wanting to please him and be good enough, so she slowly nods. Lance grins before pushing a second finger inside her, groaning at the tightness. “We gotta loosen you up, kitten, or there’s no way I’ll fit.” His fingers curl up, thrusting deep inside. The sounds of her wetness fill the empty locker room. Without warning, he adds a third, thrusting them hard and fast into her, enjoying how her back arches and squeals. The feeling of being full is getting to her head, and she slowly pushes herself onto his fingers, eyes rolled back and wholly fucked out.

“Aww, I haven’t even fucked you yet, and you’ve already gone, stupid kitten.” Lance leans down, his other hand gripping her chin as his fingers continue to move. “Just wait until I get my cock inside you. Then you’ll go really dumb, kitten.” He stretches her tiny hole open, watching as she cums three times just from that, her body twitching and her cunt sensitive.

“Ah– ah, please – oh, too much–” Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. Her cheek, covered in drool that has leaked out, Lance grabs her and turns her, bending Y/n over the bench whilst taking his member out of his blue track pants. He lines himself with her entrance, feeling excited inside that he finally knows what it feels like to be inside her.

Pushing the tip of his cock in, he groans as he’s met with resistance even though she’s cum four times, and he stretched her with his fingers. “Fuck kitten, you're choking my cock.” The warmth and wetness wrapped around him nearly brings him to his end, but he holds back. Lance bottoms out, listening to your little whines and babbles when he begins to thrust, “shh, kitten, this is a part of your training, remember?” His cock pounds into her little cunt, walls tightening around him, and he throws his head back. “Oh– best cunt I’ve ever had, kitten. We’re going– fuck– have to do this every day– shit– so you can pass– ugh” Lance falls forward, feeling her pulsate and clench around him, making it harder for him to hold back.

Your core tightens again, and you feel more sensitive that it starts to hurt. “L–Lance, i–it hurts.” Fat tears begin to roll down her face as her cunt clenches around the prominent member inside her, and she spasms, cumming hard. Juices squirt out of her and all over him, and his eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of her milking him dry, cum shooting out of him and filling Y/n to the brim. Triggering another orgasm within her, earth-shattering and blissful, her walls squeezing his cock so tight that he felt it would break as she continued to cum two more times.

“Damn, kitten. Do you think you have about ten more in you? Because I’m going to take you apart piece by piece, with my mouth, then my fingers and lastly my cock.” A dark chuckle leaves him. Leaning down, he kisses the back of your head before whispering. “Maybe we should get some food and water in you. You’ll definitely need it.” His hand wraps it tightly around your throat as his cock hardens inside you. Slowly beginning to thrust again as he imagined taking you apart, the sounds, the feel, having you entirely to himself was exhilarating.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[to-the-stars8]

Learning to Love Slowly

Parings; Jason Todd x Reader 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 A/N; Lowkey feeling like being a dumb b and posting something filthy next chapter. Idk, I might lol. I should also think about posting a consistent uploading schedule rip

15- Death and Scars

Jason was getting used to touching you, and it took him a couple of weeks to just do it without asking. Slowly, his hand would find itself on your waist for a few moments or play with the hem of your shirt as you two stood next to each other. When you started to touch Jason more he felt excited. 

His heart beat faster in his chest knowing that you wanted to feel the scar on his forearm, running a finger along it before putting your palm flat against it. Or, when you unknowingly traced the scar on the nape of his neck lightly. It sent shivers down his spine and caused goosebumps to crawl along his skin. 

One night, when he decided that patrol could come tomorrow, he sat in his apartment with you. You were lying next to him on his bed watching TV of some re-run of an old show that he wasn’t paying attention to. What had his full attention was the way you gently drew circles on his forearm right over a scar from the day he died. 

Jason should have liked it. But every circle around that particular scar made bile crawl up his throat. He hadn’t talked to you about the day he died, not to an extent at least, so it was obvious that you didn’t know better. 

Stop being a baby, he told himself, it’s your girlfriend, not him. Closing his eyes, Jason took a deep breath, trying to focus on where he was. On his bed, with you, watching an old favorite show of his. Despite the pleasant distraction, he jerked his arm away as soon as it started to feel too much. 

The unexpected movement surprised you, causing you to jump a bit. Jason was already apologizing before you stopped him. 

“Don’t apologize if you’re feeling uncomfortable, Jay,” You said as you sat up to look at him better. “Plus, if you don’t want to be touched, you know can always tell me, right?”

“I--” I know, is what he wanted to say but the words seemed lost on his tongue. He didn’t know why he felt so sick and guilty all of a sudden. Jason wanted you to keep touching him, but just not on that scar. Still, the words wouldn’t come. 

When they didn’t, you filled the silence in between. “Is this too much for tonight?”

“No, no,” Jason managed out, reminding himself to take his time, then took a deep breath. That seemed to clear his mind. “Anywhere else but there. Not that scar, please.”

As you laid back to relax again, you nodded quickly, finally understanding. “Where?”

His eyes snapped up from his lap to meet yours. “What?”

Your face started to feel hot. “Where do you want to be touched? I think I’d like to know your favorite places.”

Slowly, Jason took your hand and put it on the back of his neck. Since the two of you were laying down again, his head was now on your shoulder and he was on his side, almost curling into you. 

He was scared that maybe he was too heavy or it was too close. The condescending voice in the back of his mind told him as much. Yet, when you leaned your cheek on the top of his head and spread your fingers into his hair, he was comforted. 

Jason let out something between a pleased moan and a sigh. It was the first time he felt so at peace, especially since this was the most intimate you two had been touch-wise. What surprised him most was just how comfortable he was. 

“It drives me wild when you touch my hips,” You whispered into the black curls. “And when you massage the back of my neck or head, I like that, too.”

Jason thought back on all the times he grabbed your hips or ran his hand through your hair. He enjoyed doing that, too. He then echoed your admission with his own, “I like it when you touch my hair.”

He could feel your smile against his hair, then your lips pressing a kiss onto it. Jason’s heart fluttered. Everything you did for him was so fucking soft, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Sometimes he told himself that he didn’t deserve it. 

To put it plainly, Jason felt like he was gross and someone as good as you didn’t deserve someone like that. Then, you plucked away those thoughts with your tender caresses and reassuring whispers, and he wasn’t a vigilante anymore. He was simply your Jaybeans or Honeybee or whatever cute-ass nickname you came up with.

Jason often worried that he didn’t return the affection enough, that maybe you were unsatisfied, but then there were times like this. Where he was reminded that he was enough for you by being himself. He also rested well on the fact that you would say something. 

You never held your tongue on many opinions, one of the things he loved most about you, and you always made sure to say something you didn’t like. Especially when it came to your relationship. 

The scar from the day he died would always be there, along with the feeling of dread that was embedded with it. He could tolerate it as he had for the past six years, but it would be a lot easier knowing that there could be times when the memory stayed in the past. 

“Baby, do you think that you could keep scratching…” Jason started to say when your hand stilled, but when he looked up you were fast asleep. In such a short amount of time, too. 

Smiling, he admired your sleep form. He had seen it before, but not this close. Your lips were parted in soft, quiet breaths and your lashes fluttered as you dreamt. Even in sleep, you remained beautiful.  

Jason put his head back on your shoulder, not daring to move so he wouldn’t disturb you. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but he didn't mind. It would give him the chance to bask in the warmth of your touch.

Slowly, he was learning what it was to be alive and in love.

[deepspacedukat]

Infuriating

Reader is short, and Dukat flirts the way Cardassians do. (Meaning, he’s an ass about it.) Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Dukat (ST:DS9) x short!Reader

[A/N: The idea for this was given to me by @android-boyfriends​, so thank you, fren! I hope I did it justice!]

Warnings: Cardassian flirting (aka: two people pissing each other off until they slap and/or kiss each other), and a bit of swearing.

~*~

The first feeling that coursed through me when I saw Dukat walk into Quark’s Bar was dread. Every time the Cardassian saw me, he made a point of needling me about my height. Just because I was shorter than him by a few inches - okay, several inches - he thought it was necessary to mock me about it. I tried to skirt around a group of Ferengi waiters before he could see me, but it was too late. I’d been spotted.

“Ah, there you are, Lieutenant,” Dukat called with a devious smile on his lips. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Dukat,” I muttered with a polite smile already in place as he strode over with all the arrogance of his military position. He gave me a smirk and turned to face Quark.

“A glass of kanar for me and a Samarian Sunset for the Lieutenant,” Dukat called, and just as Quark turned to grab the alcohol, something heavy pressed against the top of my head. Turning my head ever so slightly, I saw that the Gul was leaning his arm on my head. He turned and looked down at me with a gleeful smile.

I spluttered in indignance.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked before knocking his arm off my head with the back of my hand.

“You’re the perfect height for an armrest. Oh, now don’t tell me you have a short temper,” he quipped before bursting out laughing. A few of the other patrons heard his comment and started laughing as well, and I took a deep breath.

This wasn’t the first time he’d made such a comment, and yet he acted like it was the funniest, most original line that had ever come out of his mouth. He was beyond infuriating. I couldn’t murder Dukat. I couldn’t...could I?

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant? It’s hard work being a Gul of my stature. Surely, you wouldn’t mind if I took a short rest?” He quipped, and as he started laughing once more, I snapped.

“Keep talking and I’ll knock the smirk off your arrogant, Cardassian face,” I growled up at him, but that only made him practically wheeze.

“W-Would you like me to help? I could lift you up so you can reach my face if you like. Otherwise, you might have a bit of trouble on your own,” he offered with condescending mirth in his voice.

I saw red. He wanted a slap? Oh, he’d get one. Grabbing him by the front of his chest plate, I shoved him back onto one of the stools at the bar and stepped up on one of its rungs so we were finally eye-to-eye.

“Oh, very good! I’m almost intimid–” Dukat broke off with a grunt as my hand connected with the side of his face issuing a resounding crack of flesh on flesh. The entire bar went silent as he turned his head back to face me, surprise written all over his features. That was enough to bring me back to my senses.

What had I done? I’d struck a Gul. I could be arrested for assault. Hell, if this became a diplomatic incident, I could lose my commission! We looked at each other for a tense, silent moment each wondering what the other was going to do next. A hungry look from Dukat was all the warning I had before one of his strong arms was wrapping around my waist and tugging me against his chest. A startled little yelp escaped me but was swallowed up by his lips as he kissed me.

Just like that, all my anger faded away, and I let myself fall into the kiss. I couldn’t even say why that appeased me, it just...did. Maybe it was the tension that had been building between the two of us for the last few months, or maybe it was the heat of the moment. Either way, as quickly as it had begun, Dukat pulled back and took in my pliantly stunned expression.

“I must applaud your initiative, little one,” he murmured looking like the cat who got the cream. “Now...are you still angry?”

“You’re fucking infuriating,” I murmured before dragging him into an ill-advised second kiss. Half the patrons applauded and the other half seemed confused about what had just happened, but neither of us paid any mind.

[pftones3482]

One of the commissions I'm doing for @randomfandomfan ft Hurt/Comfort Adrinino. Find it on my AO3 here.

Set post Rocketear and pre any kind of romantic relationship (tho it's hinted at). This was already a fic I wanted to write, and one of the prompts they sent me fit the concept almost perfectly, so I ran with it.

Under a cut for length.

~~

“It’s your fault.”

Nino jumped about a foot in the air, whirling from where he’d been shutting his door with his phone pointed menacingly at the source of the voice. His backpack smacked him in the hip, knocking him off kilter, and he stumbled, bracing himself on the doorknob. His eyes scanned the room slowly, shoulders easing when he didn’t spot anyone. “Hello?”

“What are you, dense, kid?” scoffed the voice again, from right in front of him, and Nino squeaked at an embarrassing pitch when he registered the Kwami floating there.

The Kwami.

The Kwami.

A black cat Kwami.

Nino dropped his defensive (if somewhat undignified) stance, staring at what was definitely Chat Noir’s Kwami. “Um. You’re not supposed to be here.”

The cat’s eerily green eyes rolled. “Wow. Intelligent.”

Nino spluttered, feeling awkward. “W-Well I’m sorry, dude, how do you expect me to react!” he demanded, throwing his hands up in the air. Something like ice settled in his gut as the Kwami’s existence finally clicked. “W-Wait, why are you here? What happened?”

“You happened,” the Kwami snapped, and uh. Okay. Not what Nino wanted to hear right now.

“What?”

“YOU. Do you have any idea how much you upset him? How much you hurt him the other day? He won’t say it, Nino, but he’s hurting. He’s been hurting, and you unloaded on him and beat him and told him how awful he was and if you weren’t his best friend and I didn’t think you were the only one who could help right now, you’d be in a pile of rubble.”

Um.

Holy shit.

Nino had never heard a Kwami so pissed. Wayzz could get a little condescending sometimes, and Ladybug had admitted that her Kwami could be a little snarky (as could Trixx, as Alya had confirmed time and time again). But never had he seen a Kwami literally shaking in rage.

He’d be more terrified if the cat’s words weren’t sinking in.

“Hang on, hang on, dude,” Nino said, crossing his arms in an “x” through the air. “Is this about Rocketear? I apologized, I-I thought me and Chat were okay. Also like, I respect the guy, but he has no idea who I am, dude, we’re not best friends.”

“Had,” the cat spit out. “He had no idea who you were.”

Nino’s stomach swooped out from under him and he gripped his desk chair tightly to keep from tripping. “What?”

The Kwami gave him a smug, if not irritated, smile. “You told him yourself.”

“D-During…when I was fighting him?” Nino squeaked. “N-No, I saw the footage, I didn’t tell him I’m Carapace!”

The cat softened. “Before, Nino. Before you were akumatized.”

“I didn’t-”

“Of course, when Ladybug appears, he throws himself to her feet with roses and love confessions!”

Fuck.

“But he is always rejected, because Ladybug thinks that he’s annoying. And she is COMPLETELY right!”

Oh, fuck.

“I know because I’m also a superhero. I’m Carapace.”

“Shit.”

Nino fumbled for his desk chair, sinking into it hard and banging his elbow on the back. The pain was almost numbing. He put his head in his hand, pushing his hat back off his head and staring blankly at the wall.

“Oh my god, dude, I-?”

“Yeah.”

The Kwami sounded almost sad this time, and that, somehow, was worse than him threatening to kill Nino.

He didn’t really remember being akumatized, until the end, when Alya broke him from Shadowmoth’s hold. And despite warnings from his friends, he’d watched the footage from his akumatization. Even without Alya recording, someone usually was, and the footage was always online by the end of the day.

He knew what he’d done to Chat Noir.

He’d seen the way he dropped his baton, a sign of surrender. The way Rocketear hadn’t hesitated to push him back with everything he had, pounding him again and again and again into that van, how he’d grabbed him by the head and slammed him backwards like-

“Nino!”

The Kwami’s paw was gentle on his wrist and Nino shuddered, scrubbing at his eyes furiously and dislodging his glasses. “Oh my god, oh my god, where is he?” he choked out. “I-I need to find him right now, Kwami dude, I-I can’t believe I-”

“Plagg,” the Kwami offered, his scratchy voice easing Nino from his panic. “And it wasn’t you, kid.”

“B-But it was, that’s the worst part,” Nino whispered, standing and pacing now. “I hated him, I hated him so much I – oh my god, he tried to tell me.” He laughed, bitter, holding his hands together behind his head. “He tried to tell me Alya and Chat didn’t have a thing and I-”

“Nino,” Plagg interrupted. “He’s on the roof.”

Nino stopped, blinked at him. “He’s what.”

Plagg nodded upwards, his antenna bobbing. “On the roof. Been there every night for the last week.” His voice lowered. “He wanted to talk to you, but he’s too scared.”

“He’s on the…he’s on my roof?”

Nino scrambled around his room, grabbing a jacket and an extra hoodie before reaching out, snatching Plagg, and shoving him into his hat. He froze a millisecond later. “Um. Please don’t cataclysm me for that, dude.”

Plagg’s chuckle was more like a purr. “Please. As if I’d need to use all that on just you.”

Nino supposed he should be insulted, but with everything he now knew, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was nearly one am – he’d been out late studying with Alya – so now he crept from his room and to the front door, hopeful not to wake his family. Grabbed his key off the hook by the entrance, and then eased the apartment door shut behind him.

It was only one flight up to the roof access, usually locked, but Nino had come up here with Alya more times than he could count, so he knew that if you wiggled the lock just right, it would come undone on it’s own. They’d oiled the hinges ages ago so that it didn’t scream every time it was opened, and now it was silent as Nino pushed it up and stared over the flat top.

Adrien was silhouetted in the moonlight, precariously close to the edge, and it made Nino’s breath hitch. He pushed the door all the way open and clambered up onto the roof as quietly as possible, easing the hatch shut again before turning back to his best friend and slumping.

Best friend.

God, how could he have-?

“You didn’t know,” Plagg whispered, gentler than Nino had expected him to be. The Kwami zipped from his hat, hovering in the air next to him, and he offered Nino a grim smile. “I might hate you a little right now for what you did to him, but you didn’t know, kid.”

Nino let out a shaky breath and started the trek over to his friend, fiddling with his extra sweatshirt. The night air was chill, and he was glad he’d brought it – Adrien was in nothing but short sleeves.

“All week, huh?” he murmured, watching as Adrien jumped a little, fingers tightening on the edge of the roof. “Could’ve just called, dude.”

Adrien twisted, lips parting. “How did you know I was-?”

His eyes landed on Plagg and a squeak slipped from his mouth as his hand shot to his shirt pocket. It wouldn’t have been funny if he hadn’t gone so pale.

So Plagg hadn’t told him he was telling Nino. Interesting.

“Y-You can’t-! You told-?”

“You’ve been here all week, Adrien,” Plagg snapped. “You weren’t gonna tell him, I was. You need a cheese in your corner.”

Nino had no idea what that meant, but he couldn’t stop staring long enough to care.

Adrien’s eyes were tired. There was no glint in them. The circles under his eyes were deep – he must’ve been wearing makeup to school, because Nino hadn’t seen them until now. His hands were trembling, his lips were bitten raw, and Nino felt his entire heart shatter.

“I am…so sorry,” he choked out, tears spilling over. Adrien jolted, turning his gaze from Plagg to him.

“Nino-”

“No, dude, no, I-I-I…I don’t care that I didn’t know. I should never have said those things, I should never have hurt you like that, oh my god dude, I hurt you so bad, I like could have killed you, a-a-and…”

He froze, reeling, and stumbled back. Adrien got to his feet warily, holding his hands up. “Nino?”

“You were gonna let me.”

He wanted it disproved, but Adrien’s flinch told him everything. His chest seized and Nino choked on his breath. “You were gonna let me, you would’ve fucking let me, you fucking asshole how could you? Do you have any fucking idea how much I care about you dude?”

He shoved Adrien without thinking, hands firm against his shoulders, pushing him back and away from the edge. Adrien’s eyes were wide, lip trembling, and Nino pushed him again, closer to the center of the roof, this time forcing the sweatshirt into his grasp. Adrien clung to it, lips parted, and Nino dragged his hands through his hair, pacing as Adrien shrugged the sweatshirt on. He’d left his hat downstairs, he registered somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Oh my god,” he choked out. “I-I…I’m so sorry dude. I’m so sorry, your dad, and then school, and modelling and your stupid model diet and then you’re a literal superhero and I’m supposed to be your best friend and I didn’t even…”

“You weren’t saying them about me,” Adrien whispered. “I know that.”

Nino spun to face him, vision blurry. “If you knew that you wouldn’t have been on my roof every night for the last week working up the nerve to talk to me. If you knew that you wouldn’t have thrown down your weapon and let me beat you to-”

He cut himself off with choked cry and he rushed at Adrien, clinging to him with a force he didn’t know he possessed. He cradled his friend’s head gently, heart sinking for a moment until he felt Adrien’s hands lift to settle tentatively on his back.

“I don’t hate you,” he whispered into Adrien’s ear. Nino swallowed, throat aching. “I don’t hate you, and I don’t hate Chat Noir. I was mad. A-And that’s not an excuse for what I said, and I’m so sorry. I’ve never hated Chat Noir, dude. He was always my favorite. I just…”

“You were upset,” Adrien finished, soft.

“Jumped to conclusions,” Nino corrected. “I was jealous of Alya keeping stuff from me, and I jumped to conclusions, and I hurt you, shit I-I hurt you, I-”

“I’m okay, Nino. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Nino croaked, tightening his grip. Something in him breathed easier when Adrien tightened his own back, harder, his shoulders starting to shake. “It’s not okay, I love you, dude. Don’t do that for me. Don’t ever stop fighting back when it’s your life at stake, I-I can’t…”

Adrien’s grip clenched in his hoodie and suddenly Nino’s neck was wet with tears. Nino carded his fingers through Adrien’s hair, turning his head just slightly to press his lips against his temple. “Talk to me, dude,” he whispered. “I’m here now, you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

“You can’t tell, Nino,” Adrien croaked. “I mean it, not even Alya. Y-You can’t. Promise me.”

“Hey.”

He pushed Adrien back, gentle, and cupped his cheeks, swiping away the tears on his skin. “I promise,” he said firmly, staring Adrien in the eyes to show he meant it. “This is too big to tell, dude.”

“You told me-”

“I trusted you,” Nino said, squeezing Adrien’s shoulders. “I was pissed, and I knew I trusted you more than anyone, and I knew you wouldn’t say anything. A-And I was wrong, dude. I shouldn’t have told Alya’s identity. Mine is one thing, but that wasn’t okay. But man, dude, you have it rough as it is, without anyone knowing you’re a superhero. I’m not telling, dude.”

Adrien swallowed, throat bobbing, and glanced behind Nino, where he presumed Plagg was floating. Plagg must have indicated something, because he slumped and gave a weak smile. “Thank you, Nino.”

Nino shook his head. “Don’t thank me. D-Don’t…not after that.”

Adrien’s hands were on his cheeks now, fingers freezing. “Hey. It wasn’t you. You might’ve been mad, but it wasn’t you. It was Shadowmoth amplifying those emotions, and you beat him. You beat him, Nino. I’m…so proud of you for that,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Nino pulled him in again, arms clinging to his back and his nose pressed into the hood of Adrien’s borrowed sweatshirt. “I’m proud of you too, dude,” he said. He felt Adrien’s grip tighten on his back. “No one ever says it. I’m proud of you. And I’m-”

“If you say sorry one more time,” Adrien croaked, laughter behind his tears, “I will personally dangle you off the Eiffel Tower by your shield.”

Nino chuckled and stepped back, tugging Adrien’s wrists gently. “Come inside,” he pleaded. “It’s cold out.”

Adrien glanced behind his shoulder, teeth worrying at his lip. “I should get home,” he said. “It’s late.”

“Then they won’t notice,” Nino said, pulling him a step further. “C’mon, dude. You’ve been by yourself for so long. I wanna hear about being Chat Noir.”

Adrien looked back to him, lips parted. The glint in his eyes was illuminated by the surrounding buildings, and something in Nino’s stomach twisted in a way he wasn’t going to question at the moment. “Really?”

“You kidding? Of course, dude.”

Adrien’s mouth slid into a tiny smile now, head tilting in that puppy-dog way only he could pull off. “Yeah. Y-Yeah, I’d like that. If you’re sure it’s-”

Nino knelt down and lifted the roof access cover, climbing onto the ladder and looking back up at Adrien with what he hoped was an inviting grin. “Dude. Just get inside already.”

Sneaking back in was harder than sneaking out, only because now he had another person in tow, but they managed to get back into his room without waking anyone (even after their quick excursion to the kitchen for a block of sharp cheddar, because Plagg was whiny). Nino shut off all the lights in his room except his desk lamp, leaving the soft glow to illuminate the corner and moving to his bed.

Adrien hesitated at the foot of it, fiddling with the sweatshirt strings on Nino’s hoodie (and Nino was ignoring how much he liked that image, that was something he could confront in the morning). “Um.”

Nino rolled his eyes and held out an arm. “Come cuddle, bro. And tell me about being the hottest bachelor in Paris.”

That got a snort from his friend, and Adrien crawled into the bed next to him, flopping against Nino’s side and leaning his head against his shoulder as Nino tucked an arm around him. “I thought I was the hottest bachelor in Paris.”

“Oh my god, you and your alter ego literally are competing for the same spot, that’s so fucking funny,” Nino cackled, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake Chris next door.

Adrien chuckled and then fell quiet, and Nino traced a circle on his arm, feeling the mood shift. “Wanna talk about what’s been going on with you and Ladybug?”

“How did you-?”

“It’s pretty obvious when you’re working directly next to the two of you. And especially now that I know it’s my best bro behind the mask? What’s up?”

Adrien went still again, and then rolled over, pressing his face into Nino’s shoulder. “Can we talk about that tomorrow?” he mumbled. “I’d rather just…hang out, for now.”

Nino tightened his grip, focused on the ceiling, and tried to quell the racing thoughts in his mind. “Of course, dude. Of course.”

Adrien’s breathing evened out, and Nino had a feeling he probably wasn’t heading home anytime soon. He didn’t care, just shifted to put his phone and glasses on his nightstand and then rolled over to hold his friend closer, smiling thinly when he instantly clung back.

Plagg was curled up on the pillow above Adrien’s head, and his cat eyes blinked sleepily as he studied Nino. “Thanks, kid.”

Nino loosened a hand and reached up, scratching the cat on the head, fully prepared to lose a finger. To his surprise, Plagg just purred and nudged up into the touch. “Thanks for breaking the rules for him,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry I put both of you through that.”

“You’re a good kid, Nino,” Plagg said, yawning and curling his tail around himself. “Stupid, but good. Wayzz likes you for a reason.”

The Kwami went quiet and started snoring, leaving Nino to flush at the compliment, run his fingers through Adrien’s hair, and fall asleep with a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

[lululawrence]

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.