#but I’m not a man. 95% sure I’m not at least

[yallwildinrn]

Y’all I really think I wanna do drag/be a drag king. The more I think about it the more fun it sounds I just have no idea where to even start

[ahsokaismyqueen]

The Evolution of Friendship Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - After Steve is attacked by Billy Hargrove, you're shocked to find the guy still attempting to protect you as you two go into the hub to try and buy Eleven some more time. It makes you wonder. Are you and Steve Harrington actually . . . friends? Word Count - 3.3k Warnings - Language and canon typical violence Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

Things started to come back to you slowly. Like the fact that the kids were arguing, the world seemed to be moving underneath you, you were leaning against something solid, and your head hurt like hell. 

Then the memories hit. Billy showing up at Will’s. Steve defending you and the kids, and then Steve getting the shit beat out of him. You remembered thinking Billy was going to kill him if he kept going. You remembered thinking that couldn’t happen. You remembered doing a lot of not thinking as you jumped on Billy’s back and tried to strangle him to get him off Steve. 

You couldn’t remember much after that, but you were distracted from your thoughts by a voice that was very near to your ear, groaning, “Nancy?” 

Your eyes opened, and everything was a bit of a blur for a moment. It wasn't until you felt a body shifting underneath you that you realized the something you had been leaning against had been a person. When you forced yourself up, you realized that person you had been leaning against was Steve Harrington. 

Or at least you were 95% sure it was Steve Harrington. 

God he looked terrible. His face was swollen in several different places, blood still stained his skin, and he looked out of it. You watched as he reached up to touch a part of his face, and your brother, who was now also coming into focus, said “no, don’t touch it,” and tugged his hand away. 

You took that moment to look around you, and suddenly realized why it felt like the world was moving underneath you. It’s because it was. “Dustin, what the fuck?” You said, an edge of panic creeping into your voice. 

“You’re going to keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” Lucas told Max from the passenger seat. 

From the passenger seat because Max was driving. 

“What’s going on?” You heard Steve’s groggy voice say. 

Max looked back at you, and that’s when he seemed to realize what was going on. “Woah, oh my God!” 

“Just relax,” Dustin tried to speak in a calming voice, but it freaked you out more. “She’s driven before.” 

“Yeah, in a parking lot.” Mike spoke up. 

Your heart started pounding in your chest as you flew down the road. Flashbacks flew by in your mind of another dark road, the screeching of tires, the crash of metal ripping . . . 

“They were going to leave the two of you behind, but I promised you’d be cool.” It was Dustin’s voice, but it sounded far, far away. All you could hear echoing in your mind were the ghosts of your screams for your dad and for help. 

“Stop the car! Slow down!” Steve said as Max pressed down on the gas. 

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand slid up and down your chest, rubbing the skin and trying to somehow get some air in your lungs. The car was going too fast. It was too dark. Max was going to get you all killed. “S-Stop the car.” You managed to gasp out. 

“I told you they were going to freak out.” Mike told Dustin. 

“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Max yelled. 

A hand gripped your wrist, and you snapped your gaze over to the man sitting beside you. Steve caught one look at your face and started yelling. “Stop the damn car!” 

Faintly you could hear them yelling at Max to make a turn, but your gaze was flickering from the road back to Steve. You couldn’t tell if you were yelling or everyone else was. You couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. Your vision was flashing in and out. One second it would be Max driving the car, next it would be your dad, smiling back at you as headlights flared in the front windshield. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you felt like at any moment it would explode and kill you too. 

Then the car turned to the left, the tires screeched, and you couldn’t take it. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and clawed at your chest. 

“It looks great sweetheart.” 

“Dadddddd . . .” You whined. “You didn’t even look.” 

“That’s because I know without looking it’s going to be amazing.” 

You smiled, but then it turned back into a pout. “But I’ve gotta know if it’ll match Dustin’s nursery or not.” 

Your dad sighed, and took his eyes off the road glancing back at the picture you were holding up. When he saw what it was, he started to smile. “It looks as amazing as I pictured it.” 

But something else had caught your attention. A truck, heading straight for you guys which normally wouldn’t have been a concern, but . . . It was on the wrong side of the road. “Dad!” You screamed. 

But it was too late. The sound of glass shattering, tires screeching and metal crunching filled your ears. Your dad was groaning, then he was screaming. He was screaming your name, and you were pressed against something hard - 

Except that wasn’t your dad’s voice, and the something hard you were pressed against wasn’t the car. It was moving, rising and falling, and a hand held your head against it. As your senses started to flood back into your body, you realized there was another hand pressed against your back. You let out a gasp of air as the hand stroked down your back. “Jesus Christ, Dustin! Your dad died in a car crash with your sister, and you thought it’d be a good idea to drag her into a car unconscious with a kid driving?!” 

You weren’t in the car with you Dad. You were with the kids and Steve. You took another gasping breath and inhaled a woodsy and metallic scent. Steve’s cologne and blood. You were pressed against Steve’s chest and any other time you would have been embarrassed, but you were still too panicked to be thinking clearly. Your fingers curled into fists at his chest, gripping his shirt, and you grounded yourself to him. It was the present, you were not in that car anymore. You repeated the words in your mind as Dustin and Steve kept arguing. 

“I didn’t - I didn’t know that would happen. When she drives at night she’s fine.” Dustin sounded upset, and you felt a flash of guilt for how long you had kept this bottled up. 

You remembered the first time it had happened, and how it had flipped Eddie, who was already a terrible driver, out. He had pulled over and had to spend fifteen minutes calming you down. Driving wasn’t the problem. If you were driving, you were in control. You were the one who could keep everyone safe, but when someone else was driving, if they got distracted, it could mean another death. “It-it’s okay,” you gasped out, and you knew you should pull yourself away from Steve, but you didn’t want to. He was your anchor, and you were scared if you pushed yourself away you’d be thrown right back in that memory. You realized how pathetic you must look though, and loosened your grip on his shirt. “I-I I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Steve’s hand grabbed one of yours. It was swollen and bloody, but you didn’t care. It was something else to keep you in this moment. “It’s okay, stay here until we stop all right? Then we can murder these shitheads together.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, and let yourself rest back against his chest. Keeping your eyes closed, you tried to make yourself concentrate on lining your breaths up with Steve’s and not how fast the car was going. When it screeched to a halt, you let out another gasp and Steve squeezed your hand. You heard the kids moving out of the car, and then you allowed yourself to look up at Steve, who hadn’t moved. “I’m sorry I freaked out.” You told him, embarrassment heating up your cheeks. 

He was shaking his head before you could even finish. “You don’t have to apologize for that. It’s those assholes who should be apologizing.” 

A weak smile formed on your face. “I know you didn’t get to meet her, but El is pretty awesome. They want to help her.” 

“So what you’re saying is, they’re not gonna give up.” Steve said, watching them out the open door as they all ran around to gather supplies. 

You shook your head. 

Steve groaned. “Shit, shit, shit.” You watched as he climbed, well stumbled is probably a better word, out of the car.

You were still shaking, but nowhere near as bad as earlier. The car had stopped, and you were back on solid ground. You knew if you and Steve were going to keep these kids from killing themselves, you were going to have to get it together. So you took what felt like your first deep breath in years, and climbed out after him, grabbing a hold of the door when you had a momentary dizzy spell. 

“Get me my shit Henderson.” Steve said to your brother as he made his way to the back of the trunk. “I’m not going to have all of you die on my conscience.” 

Moments later Dustin was handing Steve a backpack and his bat, and handing you a flashlight and a bag of who knows what. You followed the kids to a hole that Mike and Lucas had already jumped in. Steve stumbled down before you, and once again, you found yourself worried about his injuries, and if he could even handle this. You didn’t say anything though, just let out a sigh and jumped down. 

You hadn’t even noticed Steve was waiting there to catch you, and heat rushed to your face as he put you on the ground, your faces inches apart. “Uh- thanks.” You said, your voice still a little breathless, but this time you didn’t think it was because of the panic attack. 

Steve nodded, and you took a step back, turning your attention to the tunnel around you. 

You’d never seen anything like it. It was covered in black vines with white particles floating in the air that you were sure weren’t supposed to be inhaled. There was something so . . . Uneasy about it. You couldn’t ever recall feeling so unsettled. 

“Holy shit.” You heard Steve murmur behind you. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s this way!” Mike yelled, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin called from behind you. 

“I’m 100% sure! Just follow me and you’ll know!” Mike called back frustrated. 

“Woah, woah, woah, hey!” Steve rushed forward, and you grabbed his arm to help steady him when he stumbled. “I don’t think so. Any of you little shits die down here, we’re getting the blame.” He gestured towards the two of you. “Got it dipshit?” Steve told Mike, snatching the map from him. 

As you looked forward a little bit of panic made you bite your lip. You really weren’t sure if Steve was physically capable of this right now. “Steve . . . Maybe you should let me take the lead on this.” You said, giving his arm a squeeze. 

Steve turned to you, but you couldn’t read his expression with how covered up his face was. “If I’m not letting them lead, what the hell makes you think I’d let you?” 

Irritation, and you were surprised it took you this long to feel it, flooded your body, and every bit of worry about his state left your body. Did he not think you were capable of handling this? Much less that he could control you if you decided to? “Let me?” You said, the tone in your voice telling him to reconsider his words. 

He held his hands up defensively in front of him. “Yes, yes, I know you’re a badass, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and protect you.” Steve said, and started walking forward and gesturing to the kids to follow him as if his words hadn’t stopped you in your tracks. 

Steve Harrington, the most popular boy at Hawkins High, wanted to protect the nerdy school slut. If you had told yourself this a year ago, you would’ve thought you were out of your mind. He meant it though, you could sense how genuine he was with his words. A warm feeling settled in your chest to replace the irritation, and you were too stunned to even argue anymore. 

“Are you sure the two of you aren’t dating?” A muffled voice said, and you turned around to see Max, and below her googles you could see a raised eyebrow. 

Her words startled you so much you stumbled back from the force of them. “W-What?” 

She shrugged. “He seems to care about you a lot. Just an observation.” She said, before following after the others as if she hadn’t rocked your world either. 

When Dustin stopped in front of you, you were already rubbing your forehead, nervous about what other thing was going to be revealed to you. “What?” You groaned. 

“I’m sorry- About the car.” He continued when you looked confused. “I didn’t - I didn’t think about Dad. I just didn’t want to leave you there in case Billy woke up-”

You felt bad, reaching out to wrap an arm around your little brother’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Dustin. You didn’t know.” You started to lead him towards the others. “We can talk about it after we save Will and Eleven, okay?” 

Dustin nodded, but still looked upset. 

After what seemed like miles, and a slight scare when Dustin inhaled some of the dust things that were flying around, all of you entered a chamber. A chamber where multiple tunnels seemed to meet. “All right Wheeler,” Steve said, taking a look around. “I think we found your hub.” 

“Drench it.” Mike said. 

You all ended up covering as much as you could of the place in gasoline, and then all gathered back in the way you came, Steve in front with the lighter, and you right behind him with the rest of the kids all gathered around you. “You guys ready?” Steve asked. 

After everyone affirmed, Steve looked at you. 

You nodded. 

It didn’t take long for everything to catch fire, and your hand reached for Steve’s jacket, almost absentmindedly clutching the fabric in your fists as the tunnels seemed to come alive. The vines flew up into the air, tangling around each other. It was almost as if they were . . . Screaming. 

“Let’s go!” Steve yelled, and took off at a run back through the tunnels. 

As you had before, you took up the rear, letting all the kids ahead of you and making sure no one was left behind. In fact, you kept such a close eye on them, you didn’t see the vine until it was too late. 

Once you hit the ground, you watched in horror as it wrapped around your leg, crawling up your body and pinning you to the ground. You let out a scream, attempting to kick it off of you, but it was no use. It had you in too tight of a grip, and terror filled your body as you felt one of them wrap around your neck. You heard Dustin scream your name, and everybody started running back, Mike and Dustin grabbing a hold of one arm each and trying to tug you out of the vines’ grip. 

“Back up!” You watched with wide eyes as Steve ran towards you, and swung his bat down on top of the vines, making them almost screech and let you go. You let out a gasp of relief, and Dustin and Mike let go of your arms as Steve held one out to you. 

You took it without hesitation, and let him help pull you up. When you were standing, he didn’t let go of your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You okay?” He asked, and the concern in his eyes was clear. 

Your heart was still pumping fast, but you weren’t so sure it was the vines anymore. Afraid to speak, you nodded, giving his hand a returning squeeze. 

That’s when you guys heard the growl. 

Steve’s reaction was immediate. He used his grip on your hand to tug you behind him, and the rest of the kids hurried behind the two of you, except for Dustin who was staring at the demodog. “Dustin! Get away from that!” You hissed. 

Dustin held up a hand to all of you. “Trust me. Please.” 

“I absolutely do not trust you right now. What the fuck-” You tried to go to him, but Steve kept you behind him, his eyes locked on Dustin and the demodog who you now realized was Dart. “Is this shit working?” You whispered to Steve as Dustin began to get some candy out of his backpack. 

“Looks like it.” Steve said, sounding as confused as you felt, but nevertheless, when Dustin gestured for you all to run past Dart, you did. It wasn’t until you heard the growling again, this time way more than just Dart’s, that you started running again. You helped Steve get the kids back up the rope, Dustin making it through when shadows started appearing on the wall. “Come on! I’ll hoist you up!” Steve yelled at you. 

You looked up at the hole where the kids were screaming at the two of you to hurry, but you knew it was too late. You’d never both get up in time, and the thought of leaving Steve down here wasn’t an option. Especially not after what he’d done for you in the car. “I’m not going without you Harrington.” You told him. 

The only part of him you could see was his eyes, darkening slightly as they looked at you. He didn’t have the chance to say anything as the first creatures appeared around the corner. You let out a noise of surprise as your back was pressed against Steve’s chest with his arm around you in an iron grip, his bat at the ready in the other. 

But they ran right past you. 

You heard Mike say Eleven’s name, and realized that she must be closing the gate. You looked up at Steve, who still had you pressed against him even though the dogs were long gone. He seemed to be in another world, staring at the spot the dogs had disappeared to. You knew you should say something, but you couldn’t help but take a second and absorb how it felt to be held so tightly. Somehow Steve felt . . . safe. It was like nothing could touch you because you knew he was going to protect you. Not to mention how it almost seemed like you just . . . fit against him so well. 

Oh god you could not be having those kinds of thoughts about Steve Harrington. That wouldn’t turn out well for anyone. 

Your hand reached up, grabbing his arm that was still around you and giving it a squeeze. “Hey. You okay?” 

The words seemed to shake him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at you, his voice a little breathless when he responded. “Yeah, you?” 

You shrugged. “I guess I’ve been worse.” You admitted. “Now, can you help me get out of here?” You asked, nodding towards the hole. 

“Next time would you just listen to me and go when I tell you?” Steve asked, letting go of you. 

He didn’t take a step back though, and you didn’t either. Instead you turned your body to face him, shaking your head. “Sorry, I won't abandon my friends to their certain death. You’re going to have to get used to it.” You said with a shrug.

You couldn’t see his face still because of the handkerchief, but there was a note of amusement in his tone when he replied. “We friends now, Henderson?” 

A smile formed on your face as you looked at him. You hadn’t even had a second thought about the words before they left your lips, and you were startled to realize that they were true. “Yeah, Harrington, I think we are.” The two of you were friends. You could share more with him than most now. 

So why did the word friend still feel weird on your lips?

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

Halo bby! <3

Do u perhaps take request? I have been thinking about husband!gojo who feels offended after wife!reader told him about how men can only ejaculate 3 times a day after after she saw it on facebook :3 So Satoru had to cum in wifey more than what she believes because the truth is better than rumours, right? 🤔

hi anon! my inbox is always open for requests (it just might take me a little to finish them lol)

Sorry I’ve been working on this for like 3 weeks lol, I am going to take a break from writing Gojo for a little after this though (:

I didn’t proof read this my apologies

MDNI

cw: smut lmao, handjob, 69, riding, missionary, doggy, daddy kink (oops), shower sex, etc.

—

You scroll through your Facebook feed, when an article from Cosmopolitan magazine pops up called “How To Make Your Man Orgasm Better”. You read through some of it, not really absorbing much until you see an actual doctor’s name listed as research for the article. I mean of course if there’s a penis doctor listed in this article it must be legit!

‘Generally, a person with a penis can orgasm no more than 3 times a day. It can become painfully overstimulating the penis after that I’m afraid. In fact over 80% of this study shows that the person with the penis could not go longer than one orgasm, and 95% could not continue after the second one. That leaves just 5% of the population able to orgasm a third time in a day. There is the possibility for an asymptote - a line that never actually reaches zero although approaching it rapidly after the number 3.’

After reading through the article you decide to scroll through the comments, reading about middle aged women’s sex lives and how their husbands are rather bad at being intimate.

But oh, you could not relate.

After all, you are married to the Satoru Gojo. As a newer married couple with no kids, the two of you fuck at least once a day, usually after work or before bed. You like to get a little more creative on weekends, with morning sex, shower sex, kitchen counter, couch (and just about any surface in the house he can bend you over he’s already fucked you on). You guys can have sex for hours, pulling multiple orgasms from you, but the most he’s ever came in a day is three! So that doctor must have been right.

Just then, your lovely husband Satoru comes home to your beautiful little house, strolling in with a smile on his face like usual. He sits his bag down and takes off his blindfold before making his way over to you and kissing the top of your head where you sit on the couch.

“Hi baby, how was your day?” he asks

“Good, I was just reading a medical article!” You giggle mischievously, getting up to join him in the kitchen with your phone in hand.

“You can read?!” He sarcastically responds, pretending to be shocked before coming up behind you to hug you. This time he kisses the side of your head near your temple, smelling your freshly done hair and you can smell the remnants of his cologne that he sprayed before leaving this morning. “What were ya reading baby?” He kindly asks, not joking this time.

“Well this doctor says guys can cum at most three times a day! And I was thinking about it and even when we stay in bed all day on the weekends having sex the maximum you’ve hit is 3 so it must be true!”

Your husband breaks out laughing, a truly angelic sound, but you’re not quite sure what he’s laughing at. He breaks your hug turning you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders.

“Oh. You actually weren’t joking.” He says reading the expression on your face.

“No babe. Here read it!” You shove your phone towards him with the article pulled up. He reads the same paragraph as above and makes a mental note of the doctors name and credentials and thinks about how he’s going to contact him once he proves this theory wrong.

“Oh, interesting babe. Since you’re so into these ‘medical’ articles you find on cosmopolitan, why don’t we test this theory for ourselves?”

You giggle and blush at his sentiment, still getting shy when initiating sex even after being together for 5 years! You close the distance between your bodies, wrapping your arms around your husbands neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

“Yes please” you whisper against his lips. Satoru deepens the kiss, taking control over you like always. He continues kissing you and backing you up until your back reaches the refrigerator. He plants kisses all over your face before moving down to your neck.

“Y’know, I think we’ll have to make me orgasm all different ways for it to count. Something about a control variable.” Satoru mumbles against your neck.

You’d protest but your pretty little head is thinking about the way his mouth is on your sensitive spot, too horny to shut him up. He pats the back of your thighs for you to jump into his grasp, and you do wrapping your legs around him like a koala. The two of you continue your passionate make out before heading to the bedroom.

Leading you to the gorgeous master bedroom satoru closes the door behind you even though nobody else is there. He begins unbuttoning his jacket and throws it on the floor followed by his undershirt and black jeans. He lays back, his stiff member pulling his boxer briefs tight as he looks over to you expectantly. You waltz closer to the bed, only wearing your matching silk tank top and short set that satoru bought multiple of and loves so much.

He bought every pastel color and loves when he can see your somehow always hardened nipples through the silky fabric. Today’s outfit was baby blue, which happened to be his favorite. Being Satoru’s housewife really isn’t so bad, he makes good money and takes care of you in every way. You just can’t help but be submissive to him when he asks you to wear certain things or cook a certain food. For this man, you threw feminism out the window, and oh how he knew that.

Satoru pulls you onto his lap, looking up at you with those stupidly beautiful eyes as he gently squeezes your hip. “Cmon princess let’s start this experiment,” he winks at you before helping you take off your tank top.

While yes, you play a submissive role in your relationship, he doesn’t always dominate you in the bedroom.

That being said, you roll off satoru so you are laying beside him, leaning to him to resume your steamy make out session.

“Mmm.. I love making out with you, we need to do this more,” he mumbles against your lips. You “mhm” in agreement before proceeding to enter your tongue into his mouth. One hand grips into his white locks while the other reaches down to rub his erection through his boxer briefs. He moans at your touch, reaching his slender arm around you and firmly grabs ahold of your ass, as if you would run away. Satoru takes over the kiss a little more, but as you’re still trying to be in control you stick your hand inside his underwear, rubbing your thumb against his slit.

You break the kiss so he can lower the underwear, before spiting on your hand to lube his shaft as your soft hand runs up and down. He shudders and rolls his eyes back, putting both of his hands behind his head, showing off his sculpted physique completed by the tufts of white hair on his armpits.

You try your best to talk dirty to your lover, being shy in bed like usual is not going to work if you want to make him cum more than 3 times.

“Such a pretty cock belonging to my pretty man”

Satoru knows he’s in for a wild ride when you start to talk seductively. It doesn’t happen often because while you’re vocal in bed… it doesn’t usually include words or full sentences. 😉

You keep eye contact with your lover while you rub your thumb in circles against his sensitive spot, on the back side of the shaft where it meets the head. He lets out a mixture of a whimper and moan while closing his eyes. You add the dripping precum to the tip of his cock will you rub him up and down just like he had shown you previously. He likes when you start towards the middle and rotate up and down, not too fast and not too slow, but not too much pressure and not too light of a touch. He openly told you before that you weren’t very good with the whole handjob concept even though you’re basically professional at everything else, and so he went into great detail, and now you can really make the man quiver.

You sit up, moving so you can use both hands, because his balls look just a little too neglected. You straddle his left leg, allowing him to feel your bare soaking pussy against him. He grunts at the new feelings, getting to be too much for him to handle.

“Baby please make me cum,” he whines as you start to grind yourself on his leg, matching the rhythm that you’re stroking his length. Your other hand gently caresses his full sack, you know he will be cumming so much tonight and you cannot wait.

“Satoru, baby, please? Cum for me?” You let out a small moan as he rubs his leg against you for some extra friction, which simply sends him over the edge. Looking into your big sweetly innocent eyes he shoots his seed all over his abs. Neither of you even look at his cock when he cums, too mesmerized by the lust contained within the eye contact.

Finally, you let go of his penis as he catches his breath with his eyes closed. You want to give him some time to recover but not too much, because it will mess up the variable data!

“My sweet, are you ready for more?” You ask innocently already devising a plan for what you’ll do to him next.

“Whatever you want princess,” he breathes out finally opening his eyes when he has caught his breath.

You try to remain confident as you shift your weight off of his leg and swing your body around.

“Can I sit on your face please baby?” You ask again sounding way too innocent for the words coming out of your mouth. Satoru lets out a moan at the unexpected question, his cock growing hard again.

“Please, fuck yes, please let me make you feel good,” Satoru begs, grabbing your legs to help you get adjusted.

“No baby, I want to face the other way.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out, knowing what is coming next.

You get adjusted, your warm soaking cunt hovering over your husbands mouth, thinking about how long it has been since you’ve done this position, surely it won’t take him long to reach peak number 2.

Satoru wastes no time diving in like a starved man. That is the thing about your husband, is he loves pleasuring you almost more than he likes being pleasured himself. Seeing and hearing and feeling you feel good drives him crazy, being the reason he loves sixty-nine so much.

Pulling out all the stops tonight you lean down, licking a strip down Satoru’s abdomen, the exact line where all of his previous cum was. You lick from the bottom of his pecs down the whole way until you reach the base of his dick, proceeding to lick a stripe up and wrap your lips around his tip.

“Oh my fucking god baby that was the hottest thing ever”

Now he really starts eating you out with a passion, tongue circling your clit before plunging in your hole. You attempt to match the bobbing of your mouth on his cock but he simply goes too fast. You come off his cock to let out a guttural moan of his name, which only eggs him on further.

“I’m - I’m not going to last long - ahhha - if you keep that up S’toruuu”

“Mhmmm,” he hums against your clit, knowing how good the vibrations feel for you.

You close your eyes before going back down on his cock, feeling him twitch as you messily tongue his tip.

“-m sensitive hmm” a muffled Satoru says but you don’t care. Using your previously covered in cum hand, you run up and down his shaft while moving down to suck on his balls. This sends toe curling electricity through his body, and he reaches his arm around your thigh so he can access your tight hole with his thumb. Sucking and licking while you feel his thick thumb being sucked into you. Being as turned on as you were, a first orgasm is almost instantly ripped from you, catching both of you off guard but you moan against Satoru’s balls. The combination of feeling you convulse against his thumb plus the sensitive state of his dick in your hand sends Satoru over the edge, but he at least gets to give you a warning.

“Cummin for ya again baby please take it all,” he says barely coherent being so overtaken by pleasure. You attach your lips back to his tip and finish sucking him off until you feel cum stop coming out. You try to get off of him as gracefully as you can, moving to lay down for a minute to give you both some air. You look at the lower half of his face as he licks his lips, and you hold out your tongue showing him you swallowed all of it.

“Cmere pretty girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders and pulling your sweaty bodies close.

“Don’t get too comfortable my baby were only half done, at least,” you smile up at him and watch as he realizes you really weren’t kidding earlier.

Once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, you crawl back on top of Satoru, but this time straddling his pelvis, his semi-hard cock under you. He still looks a little out of breath, but you’re going to do all the work so he doesn’t need to worry right?

You grind your soft wet folds against his growing erection, “can I have it in my sweet pussy this time baby?” You ask doing your best to give him puppy eyes. His eyes roll to the back of his head, humping his hips up a little to give more friction.

“You can have anything you want Princess, you’re being such a vocal good girl t’night,” he sounds out of breath, whiney, and desperate as he watches you reach your hand down to line him up with you. You smile as you playfully rub his tip on your clit.

His hands cover his face, “please. Please stop teasing me, please baby,”

Without further notice you slip him inside, slippery from the previous orgasm Satoru ripped from you.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he whispers before a porn like moan courses through him, “y/n I’m so sensitive, I don’t think I can do it!”

You slowly ride and grind up and down his shaft, one hand on his chest to support you, the other rubbing at your clit. “Please, daddy… for me?” You emphasize that word, knowing being called that drives your husband crazy.

Satoru’s large skinny hands find the squishy sides of your hips and he squeezes hard. Not that he meant to, but there will definitely be 10 small oval bruises on your ass and hips tomorrow.

“Say it again…” he moans.

“Say what again?” You smile innocently, batting your eyelashes. With that he lifts one hand off your hip and lashes out a spank on your ass check, making your tight hole clench down on him more.

“You know what I meant.” God, something just slightly feral comes out of Gojo when you play so innocent but also act so seductive for him, especially when he hears that word from your lips.

“Daddy, I need two more orgasms from you, please?” You whine as you find a particularly good spot that his cock is rubbing inside you. It’s like your words revived Satoru’s stamina, firmly grabbing your hips again before helping you lift off and on him at almost inhuman speed. Each thrust goes so deep in you, you think you feel it in your stomach. A few more hard thrusts and he is pulling you off of him, and pushing you straight back so your back is on the bed now. He hovers above you, reclaiming his dominance, before pushing back into you with both legs dangling off his shoulders. You know he is holding out as long as he can, but he’s going to want you to cum first so he can feel you clench around his cock and push him over the edge. He leans down kissing your lips, forehead, and cheek before whispering seductively, “such a good girlll,” while emphasizing the last two words with two particularly rough thrusts. He continues his praises inbetween licks and sucks on your neck

“You looked so pretty on top princess but I just had to have my way with you,” before he leans down to suck which will surely leave a hickey. When he comes back up for air he breathlessly groans,

“And you just taste so good and your throat knows my cock so well!” You think he may be slightly going insane and wonder if orgasm numbers 3 and 4 are necessary. Moaning with him, he knows you love his dirty talk because he can feel you squeeze his cock without trying.

Satoru fucks into you with relentless speed, causing your chest to bounce up and down, and all you can do is grip onto his shoulders and let your toes curl from pleasure.

“Mmm, daddy, g’na cum for you,” you barely breathe out, getting closer to the edge as your back arches off the bed. At this he puts your legs together and pushes them back towards you, knowing exactly how to hit your favorite spot in this position.

“Come on princess, cum for daddy, that’s it,” he groans, temporarily forgetting about his overstimulated cock while being so focused on your eyes rolled back and mouth hanging open in pleasure. Just a few more thrusts and he has you squeezing his dick so tight, he knows he won’t last much longer. Your orgasm hits you, not even able to control the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth, face red, tears threatening to spill from pure bliss. Satoru slowed his pace to let you finish your orgasm before pounding into you harder than before

“Sa-tor-u” his name comes out of your mouth broken up not being able to catch your breath.

“I-I’m gonna - toru!” Being fucking into overstimulation has made you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and lower abdomen, which puts him over the edge, two more hard thrusts before he pauses, spilling his third load of the evening into your throbbing cunt.

His breathing heavy, sweat making his usually fluffy white hair stick to his forehead and his whole body seems to be glowing from the shine of sweat covering him. God you feel so bad for him but also do you really? As he’s said before “your pussy is heaven” so like it’s not really bad that you’re giving it to him…

“Let’s get you in the shower hun,” you whisper next to his ear, having plans for how you can get at least one more orgasm out of him. Still huffing, he gets up and his glorious skinny body looks so beautiful you feel yourself getting horny again. At least you weren’t as tired as your husband!

You set out 3 fluffy clean towels from the linen closet and turn the shower on a good temperature. Satoru has his arms wrapped around you from behind as you both wait for the water to warm up. “I love you,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“Love you too, Toru” you smile up at him, turning around in his grasp. You kiss him sensually slowly at first, on your tippy toes gently rubbing your fingers along his cheek and neck. You deepen the kiss, knowing exactly how your husband loves it. He reaches down, each hand grabbing each ass cheek and squeezing before giving you a light spank, causing you to giggle.

“Naughty girl, still haven’t had enough?” He asks down to you. Without responding you gently wrap your had around him and pull him into your beautiful giant shower. The water is perfectly hot , making your eyes roll back in relaxation. You pull Satoru under the water taking care of him first. He turns into your big baby, leaning down to let you shampoo his hair and wash his body. When you get to clean his pelvis area you gently lather his soft penis with soap. He whimpers just from you touching it, but you have to clean it! Next you fondle his balls, massaging the soap in. His erection slowly starts to grow again and you know orgasm number 4 won’t be too far away.

“My turn,” you say looking up at him and turning around so you ass rubs up against his hardening member.

Satoru pumps a generous amount of your fancy smelling body wash onto your pink loofa, his frontside still pressed up against your backside. His long arms maneuver around your smaller frame, using all his energy to make sure he washes you in every hard to reach spot, only detaching himself when he had to wash your back and ass. He ignores the boner that impossibly came back after cumming 3 times already, and thought you didn’t notice.

He opts to hang the loofa back up and uses his hands to sensually rub the soap in, starting with your tits, although they needed no extra attention. Your nipples have always been sensitive in the best way, so when he starts rubbing them you can’t help but feel your core heat up again.

“Spread your legs hun,” he whispers, barely able to hear it over the running water. You do as satoru tells you, and he runs his hands down from your chest to your folds, making sure the area is soapy and clean. Your eyes close, leaning your head back against his chest while he massages your slightly tender pussy.

You take this opportunity to reach behind you, grabbing your husbands hardened shaft, and lining it up with your slick cunt.

“Baby…” he groans, voice laced with concern.

“Shhh, it’s okay I’m going to take care of you,” you answer back and with that, push yourself back onto his cock. You both moan in unison at the connection, like a melody between the differences in your voices. You can tell Satoru is tired by his rather lazy thrusts, so you hold onto the shower wall in front of you, fucking yourself back onto him. He is back there whining and groaning uncontrollably, being such a trooper for letting you do this experiment on him.

He puts his hand over yours on the wall, while snaking his other around your waist and under you to rub at your swollen clit. Immediately when he touches it you gasp, not realizing just how sensitive it was from this evening’s fun.

“-hmygod, don’t squeeze me like that,” Satoru whimpers, you turn your head to the side to see his eyes squeezed shut, a blush covering his whole face and chest, and his abs flexing over and over.

Seeing your hot husband so worked up is just the ammunition you needed to finish this last round. You ask him to sit on the little stone bench you have in the shower, which the two of you don’t utilize enough. He sits and you turn around, reverse cowgirl, and bounce up and down with as much energy as you can.

You didn’t even realize how loud your own moans had gotten, his hands on your waist, with yours resting on his knees.

“Please Satoru, let go for me, cum for me please,” you babble and moan with your head empty. Satoru is completely pussy drunk and fucked out in a way you’ve never seen him before.

“Love you ‘Toru,” you moan out as you reach your last peak and the combination of words and friction send him over the edge. He nearly convulses, gripping your hips to the point it actually kind of hurts. No moans, whimpers, or grunts can even come out of his mouth at this point, his jaw is just slack and eyes pressed shut.

You still on his lap, he leans forward and presses his head against your shoulder, and you think you may have made him pass out.

“Babe, cmn, let’s get you out of the shower.” You stand up turning around to see your husband in all his glory, looking half dead on the shower bench with his cock softened and red. You give him and yourself one more rinse over to get the last rounds residue off and turn the water off. You help Satoru stand, although nearly a head above your height, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and lets you guide him out. You wrap his fluffy extra large towel around him and he slowly grabs the edges, just standing there letting water drip off and making no attempt to dry himself. You wrap your hair in a towel, and quickly dry your body off, tired yes, but not nearly as worn out as your husband.

You look over to him, head thrown back, holding onto the towel. You decide to pamper him for the rest of the evening, drying him off, putting his usual hair product in for him, helping him put on a clean pair of boxer briefs and crawl into bed. It’s not even 8 pm and the sun is just starting to set, you giggle but he hasn’t eaten dinner since being home from work. For christs sake he hasn’t had dessert either. He rolls onto his side scrolling through his phone as you get yourself dressed and brush through your hair.

You kiss his forehead and he tiredly smiles up at you. “Thank you babe,” you whisper, “you helped me prove that article wrong.”

His eyes roll jokingly, “well thanks to your damn article I don’t think my dick is going to work for a few days, so who’s loss is it really?”

You ignore his question, “do you want takeout babe? Are you hungry?”

“Can I just have ice cream..?” He squints up at you like a kid asking their parent to have dessert without finishing their vegetables.

“I guess..” it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, “stay here I know how you like it.” That brings a smile to his face, snuggling into your cozy bed.

You leave the room to head to the kitchen and Satoru goes back on his phone. He googles the doctors name from the article that he noted to himself earlier and finds the email address.

Dear Doctor Yeager,

Please note that my partner and I experimented after reading your article, and I would like to inform you I am an outlier, and finished four times before nearly passing out. If you would like to do any tests on me please let me know.

- world famous Satoru Gojo

he pushes the send button as you walk back in with his ice cream.

[hannyoontify]

seventeen '95 line and their love languages

warnings | none :) js kie being an idiot

notes | based on pure speculation and my guesses by reading their “vibes”. i have a feeling it might be a little diff since the way that they treat their members is probably gonna be different from the way they would treat their s/o. listed from greatest to least (imo) and feel free to drop an ask abt ur opinions i would love to have a discourse abt sebong's diff love languages lol 95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

seungcheol : gifts, physical touch

no bc have you guys seen this man spoiling yoon jeonghan. he does not HESITATE to shower his loved ones with gifts and he also loves receiving gifts (bro can get so petty if he doesn’t receive gifts on his birthday) and it’s not in a conceited, materialistic way. he likes the whole process of considering what you might want/need, going out of his way to go out and shop for it, wrapping it and packaging it, and delivering it into your hands. he loves that entire process and he loves the way your face lights up when you pull out his gift ‘how did you know i wanted this?!’ oh he feels SO proud and he’s filled with that warm, fuzzy feeling whenever he gives gifts. and vice versa! he can get emotional when he receives gifts, imagining the other person going thru that same process of finding a gift for him. 

physical touch!! i’ve got eyes bro don’t even try to hide it. he’s the youngest son in his family so i’m sure he’s used to being doted on and being the maknae (my reasoning for why his third would be words of affirmation). and i’ve noticed that since he has an older brother, his physical touch can get.. aggressive at times. like he’s still a schoolboy at heart (at least some part of him) and has a sense of mischief that he doesn’t show often bc he’s the leader of 12, but roughhousing is js a part of him esp since he grew up with an older brother (victim: lee chan) but this man loves skinship like i think he’s always holding hands or leaning on a member in every gose ep or any other content. he simply finds comfort in his partner’s presence (platonic or romantic, doesn’t matter) and wants to be with them at all times

jeonghan : physical touch, words of affirmation

i personally think yoon jeonghan is our resident king of physical touch. he loves putting his head on members’ shoulders (smth that made me sob the first time i noticed where can i get a yoon jeonghan) and he’s also one of the members who i think is always initiating some sort of physical contact with the others in gose episodes and any other content (if deemed appropriate). and he also likes to have an emotional support object in his hand (his hammer is so fucking cute) so i think when you guys go out on dates and stuff he always has his pinky interlocked with yours or smth. like he js needs to feel you at all times to know that you’re there. BIGGEST CUDDLE BUG but doesn’t like to admit it. after he thinks you fall asleep, he would cuddle up against you and nuzzle his face into your neck. he would entwine his fingers with yours and wrap yours and his arms around your waist and js cuddle you i’m literally gonna cry

i’ve noticed that jeonghan’s constantly complimenting and reassuring members but knows when to do it jokingly and when to be serious and when it’s needed. we all know that he’s always checking up on the other members and making sure that they’re doing okay, and if they ever have a problem, he’s always willing to listen. i think he’s a really good listener and has super fast 눈치 which idk how to explain in english. like he picks up on things super quick and i think he’s one of the smartest members in terms of ’street smart’. like he notices small things super quick and picks up on them really fast. that + his fast brain + smart mouth = him knowing what to say at the spur of the moment to make the other person feel better. jeonghan who immediately applauds whenever junhui does anything. and when jeonghan receives compliments, i think he kinda deflects and downplays it (mostly as a joke) like that one time in ttt and hoshi was like “this is really good, jeonghan” to jeonghan after he cooked some beef and jeonghan said “beef tastes good no matter who cooks it” with a joking tone but i’m so sure my man was grinning like a child on the inside and feeling shy. OH LIKE THE CAMPING TTT when they started talking about how much jeonghan cares for the team and he got all shy and covered his face like, my sweet sweet baby (he’s 27)

joshua : gifts, words of affirmation

i think the members mentioned that joshua is a gift giver and is consistent with bday gifts (but considering the track record of the rest of the group, i’m gonna assume that the bar is on the floor..) like rich LA boy went shopping and spotted something that reminds him of you so he bought it and brings it home with a proud smile. ‘ta da! i saw it at the mall today and it reminded me of you’ oh i think this is pretty big in korean culture, but my boy would be so careful not to spend too much on luxurious gifts that cost thousands bc he knows that it can get burdensome even though you both know that he makes enough to buy you anything you want. oh and his recent love for making bead bracelets!! this is a lot less materialistic but he loves making bead bracelets for the people he loves. him taking the time to make a bracelet for you, picking out your favorite colors as he imagines what your initial reaction would be when you see it 💔 he js loves spoiling the people he loves because they mean the world to him and what better way is there to show them that than through gifts??? you’re his entire world so the least he can do is you give you some piece of the universe. (this was more romantic in my head)

immediately thought of that one clip of drunk shua and sober vernon from in the soop where shua was drunk (he’s so fucking cute) and they go to sleep and shua’s like “good night i love you” and vernon’s like “hmm i %@#%#$^ you too” and shua’s like “why aren’t you saying it back >:(“ and so vernon says i love you too and shua goes “really?” and you can literally hear the SMILE IN HIS VOICE GOD I’M CRYINGGGG like when he’s worried or anxious, hearing someone tell him that he’s doing great and there’s nothing to worry about puts his heart at ease (jeonghan comforting shua during the carnival gose ep) but besides that js hearing simple messages like “you’re so special to me” “you deserve every compliment” “thank you for being here” etc etc i think joshua is one of the members who tend to repress their emotions more, so i think hearing/reading these short messages mean a lot to him 

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

a/n : *in shua's voice* surprise! first and foremost i apologize for my sudden disappearance, i had a mini depressive episode and cut off contact with the entire world and stayed in bed for 4 days straight (whoops) but i’m doing all better now so don’t worry! as an apology, i present to you, sebong’s love languages!! i tried my best to include both receiving and giving although i don’t specify in the headings hehe oh and dw i will be adding 96, 97 and the maknae line! i was gonna do all of them at once but i wrote so much so i didn't think i would finish it in time

[radfemverity]

Andrew Tate is the perfect test, and women should use him to vet men.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a better demonstration of how an umbrella fear of all men is justified, than in the support millions of men have given to Andrew Tate these last few years. At the end of 2022, every claim about he and his brother were vindicated when they were finally arrested for sex trafficking.

Both have publicly admitted to preferring when women stay like young girls, beating women in the bedroom, tricking women into making degrading porn, and ploughing ahead in sex whether the woman is ready and willing or not. There have also been leaked footage of Andrew Tate filming himself frightening a woman to humiliate her. @CrayonMurders on Twitter is a living breathing archive for all of this.

Yet his fanbase grows everyday. Very high profile commentators on the Right who the Left have been warning about for years (eg Elon Musk, Tucker Carlson, Tommy Robinson) have actively endorsed Tate, and his tweets regularly surpass tens of thousands of likes. He has a cult of personality amassing millions of men.

He is the textbook example of everything women have been warning about, it’s almost comedic. Andrew Tate isn’t like most sexual predators. He’s not discreet, he doesn’t use vague language or dogwhistles. He’s not a Jeffrey Epstein, a Jimmy Saville or a Harvey Weinstein, he’s too reckless for that. In caricature Disney villain style, he has been so brazenly unapologetic about his lifestyle of rape, pimping and violence, that unlike many before him, he has given himself absolutely no path to plausible deniability. His fanboys preaching “innocent until proven guilty!!” falls flat in the face of hours of footage and hundreds of tweets of him bragging about being a sadistic monster.

Andrew Tate is so addicted to flaunting his evil, that he inadvertently exposes the sheer number of men who are pro-rape and human trafficking, in a way that more careful predators just don’t. We can all use him as a test to vet any man we consider letting into our lives, and provide other women with the information to do the same.

Ascertain a man’s opinion on him early on. Don’t show your own bias, don’t interrogate, just ask casually and feign ignorance. Say something like “Oh I saw the whole drama on the news, but I don’t really know what to make of it all”. Listen for his answer, and then enquire further, no matter what it is. Even if he says he doesn’t like Tate, ask why. Because while “he’s an insecure beta masquerading as a big man”, and “he’s a bad role model” are true, it isn’t enough.

If you’re going to trust any men, especially in this neoliberal hellscape where they’ve had access to millions of clips of women being raped in every position and every hole since they began puberty, just please wait until they’ve demonstrated an unshakeable empathy for the female sex. Andrew Tate isn’t just a dickhead, or a funny peanut man, or a beta narcissist. He is a monster.

I cannot remember the last time there was a yardstick by which we can so easily measure a person’s humanity (or lackthereof). And while I would never blame a woman for just pointblank avoiding the entire male sex, associating with men is quite the game of Russian Roulette, most women – even radical feminists – would never be willing to do that. So to the 95% of us who wish to have at least one man in our lives, this is the easiest, most perfect test.

[puppyluvfics]

NSFW Alphabet | Goo Gunil

Goo Gunil | WC: 1.2k Genre: smut Summary: nsfw alphabet game thing idk Warnings: this is just. PURE filth. I'm sorry. (No im not). NOT proofread, just straight up rambles. A/N: writers block is kicking my ass forgive me pookie bears ALSO! X is excluded bc i will Not be writing about him in that kind of detail <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s literally an angel idc, he would constantly ask if you’re okay and remind you to breathe and give you back rubs T-T AND omg stop he would be so quick to wipe you off if you hated feeling messy like that and he’d make sure the towel was warm and that you weren’t cold after. He gives me the vibes of someone who would give you kisses all over, like after he’d wipe something off of you, he’d kiss that spot to remind you that he’s so thankful and finds you so stunning. ALSO I feel like he’d be the kind to dress you, either in your own clothes or in something of his so you were swimming in it and comfy.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I mean. Come on now. He’s an arm guy,,, I feel it. Something about you gripping onto his biceps drives him nuts. I also feel like he would be really into like. He would be into hips and/or thighs… like something about how he could easily dig his thumbs into your skin without doing any real damage other than surface bruising… yeah… 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Now… hear me out on this. It could go one of two ways where he’d either really like to come all over you and make a mess of you OR he’s a “swallow it” kind of guy… either way, it’s going to involve holding you down in one way or another

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

So who’s going to beat my ass if I say I think he likes to edge himself… that is all.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You can’t tell me this man hasn’t gotten laid… look at him. Is he a sex god? I do not think so. BUT he for sure knows his way around and he gives me the vibe of not being scared to be told to switch it up if what he’s doing doesn’t feel good for his partner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Man’s a classic guy, I fear… missionary 95% of the time, only switching it up when you want to

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think he could go both ways, but leans toward serious… I dunno! I think he likes to make a big deal about it every time and take his time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I’ll keep it brief - trimmed and neat <3

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

^^ Like I said, he takes his time for sure… foreplay? Oh, it’s happening. Teasing? Forever. He is putting his mouth ALL over you, worshipping you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

And if. If I say he likes to jack off in front of a mirror… then what?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He gives me such vanilla vibes, but ig cumplay if anything… breeding maybe?

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s an at home/in private guy, don’t even joke yourself… he wants you all to himself and he wants you both to be so comfortable 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s a man so. Everything. LOL no jk but fr I think he really likes dirty talk and like. Sultry things that aren’t totally obvious, like you walking around in lingerie and “accidentally” showing it to him when you bend over, or asking him to touch you in a seemingly chill way only to find you aren’t wearing anything underneath, yknow?

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He’s the least hardcore guy, I’m sorry. Yeah, he goes all out on stage but I think when it comes to sex, he’s so gentle and caring and sweet but still like… not a dominant, at all, but powerful. He doesn’t get off on obedience, you get me?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

LOVES giving, I just know. Idk if I’d call him a munch per se, but I can just see him being the type to lay between your legs and make you come AT LEAST once before you even touch him. Also loves receiving! Somewhere between sloppy blowjobs and cock worship… yeah he’s gone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Somewhere in the middle, for sure. He’ll speed up when you’re close, and he’ll go tantalizingly slow when you’re whining and begging for more, but he’s a rhythm guy…

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big no, methinks. He likes aftercare and taking his time, but that doesn’t mean he’s against starting something he can finish later, like edging you a few times or rubbing you through your panties just to get you wet and needy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think he’d try almost anything once within reason. Nothing extreme, obviously, but if you brought up the idea of trying a new kink or position, he’d be down to try it once, maybe twice if he liked it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

GOD forever. Hours. This man takes his time, you cannot tell me he doesn’t. He would love to leave you fucked out, even if it means he only comes once or twice.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don’t think he’s against them, but they’re not the first thing that come to mind… he seems the type to find you fucking yourself and then want to “show you how it’s really done” you feel?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I mentioned earlier how I feel like he’d love to tease you when you whine, and I stand by that. When your thighs are pressing together and your hips are bucking and you’re grabbing at him, he’d slow down and taunt you, making you use your words, just because he likes to hear you and know the effect he has on you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s loud but only for you. What I mean is that he is going to be SO in your ear calling you pet names (lovingly or degradingly, tbh) and grunting, but he’s not putting on a show of it… he wants you to know what you do to him and how good you feel around him and how much he loves fucking you dumb.

W = Wild card (a random headcannon)

LISTEN. I cannottttt stop thinking about him wanting his partner to sit on his face and eat them out through their panties… like… not all the time but I cantttt get it out of my head.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s down when you’re down! He’s never going to pout about it if he’s in the mood and you’re not, but he would ask you to understand if he disappeared for a bit to take care of it, yknow? But whenever you’re in the mood… he is so on it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Not that shortly after, tbh. I think he’d be too protective and have too big of a desire to make sure you’re okay and clean and feel safe and loved and reassured, he’d only sleep after you fell asleep.

[thesapphireprincess]

Hypergamy Beginnings: The best times to go out and meet new men ✨✨

The early bird catches the worm meaning that it is better to show up somewhere soon than later.

From 11:50am-1:30pm business men go to lunch with their colleagues or go get coffee if they’re skipping lunch. It doesn’t matter where you go as long as it is on the nice/wealthy side of town you will see them come in flocks. I’ve witnessed this on multiple occasions, honestly go test this yourself to see and then come back to this post. Go to Starbucks, Chipotle or a nice restaurant.

From 2:50pm-6:30pm is when happy hour starts or is about to start at nice restaurants. They usually start around 3 or sometimes 4 just check google to make sure. If it starts at 3 get there at 2:50pm and if it starts at 4 get there at 3:50pm. Get there 10-15 minutes early so that you are able to observe. Also when they walk In you’ll already be sitting there. If you get there late then sit next to a man sitting alone. If the bar is full then idk what to tell you maybe sit in the lounge or at a table until a seat is available. As long as you get there within this time span then you’ll be fine.

💌: How to know if a man is interested in you vs if he’s not: When a man is interested in you he will look at you for at least 3 seconds preferably multiple times if you’re in his vicinity but if he’s not then he’ll most likely pretend that you don’t exist and not look at you twice. I swear this is how you know that they’re interested in you. I work with 95% of men so I have tested this out. The ones who are interested in you are looking for a signal that you’re interested in them too. The way to let him know that you’re interested is to make eye contact for at least 3 seconds and smile. Just do a little grin not a smile with teeth. I have tested the eye contact thing out with men at work and they usually will speak to me and smile vs if I ignore their presence and walk past them and they won’t say a word. My friend tested this out at a coffee shop and she said it works and she was approached. Some men are super bold and will talk to you regardless of if you looked at them or not, especially if they find you attractive.

Example: I was on a date and our table wasn’t ready so we were going to go sit at the bar and wait but I went a little ahead of him because he was still speaking with the hostess about our table. I sat next to this older gentleman and he spoke to me right away but my date was right behind me shortly after so it didn’t last long. Try it out and let me know what happens. I’m going free-styling tomorrow so I will update y’all.

🤍: I wanted to let you all know that these men want us to enter their world. They want us to show up in their spaces so that they can find us. Be someone they’ve never experienced. You’re placing yourself in another timeline by doing this and opening your world to new experiences. Imagine him wondering when he’ll meet his dream girl and the boom you show up.🤍

[theharddeck]

talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?

Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)

Length: 7.8k

A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without

You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point. 

“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room. 

Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”

Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.  

“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care. 

Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…

“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”

“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.

“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”

Jake had the grace to look guilty for a  moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”

In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory. 

Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand. 

“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”

Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”

Had you said that?

It sounded like something you’d say.

But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.

It was a wonderful two minutes. 

Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.  

Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.  

“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.

You did stop fidgeting, though.

“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.

Was it hot in here?

It had to be hot in here.

Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.

You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.

(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit). 

On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.

You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.

“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.

“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”

He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder. 

He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin. 

Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again. 

“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone. 

“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”

“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.

“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper. 

“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”

“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right. 

“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing. 

“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch. 

You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid. 

“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”

“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”

You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar. 

Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?

That wasn’t true. 

Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh. 

Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness. 

Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even. 

This was fine, this was normal. 

This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs. 

He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.

“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice. 

Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest. 

“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”

He was interrupted, of course.

Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it. 

He froze. 

Shit. 

“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”

You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes. 

“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile. 

“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”

Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong? 

Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.

“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”

Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him. 

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours. 

You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy. 

Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again. 

You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin. 

“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”

You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.    

“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin. 

“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”

Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good. 

With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again. 

“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”

“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed. 

“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration. 

He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again. 

“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”

Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched. 

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”

Well, fuck, when he put it like that…

“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you. 

“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him. 

He didn’t look away from you. 

His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again. 

“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue. 

He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.  

“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”

You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you. 

He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked. 

“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—

Jake pulled back. 

You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. 

“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing. 

You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded. 

“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself. 

“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”

“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.

“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”

Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you. 

No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”

You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it. 

“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded. 

“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again. 

“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.

“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”

Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders. 

“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened. 

“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully. 

“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt. 

You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind. 

“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.

Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.  

“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were. 

“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.” 

“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you. 

“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”

He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?

What was anything, what did he need?

“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”

“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”

“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”

“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”

His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.  

“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you. 

God, and you hadn’t even had him yet. 

“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you. 

“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you. 

You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face. 

You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows 

He looked proud. 

He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away. 

“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”

You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.

More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours. 

Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him. 

You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.

It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you. 

You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them. 

In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better. 

“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.

Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head. 

“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”

“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”

You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you. 

Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel. 

And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.

“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”

When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath. 

Sweet man. 

You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you. 

“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”

“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground. 

“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.  

Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?

You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free. 

“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away. 

No wonder he walked around like he did. 

As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth. 

But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine. 

You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself. 

“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.

“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this. 

“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again. 

Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making. 

You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly. 

It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in. 

You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you. 

There it was. 

You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. 

You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight. 

“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.

You felt like he could see straight through you.

That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you. 

Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air. 

The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him. 

You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.

Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”

You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”

He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core. 

“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”

“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you. 

It was a good thing he was holding you up. 

Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be. 

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.

“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”

His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you. 

You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.  

“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”

He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it. 

Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa. 

Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you. 

You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts. 

Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.

“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”

You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked. 

When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much. 

“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”

“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch. 

“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?” 

“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”

“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”

“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”

You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”

“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”

He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe. 

Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down. 

You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs. 

You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed. 

You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up. 

//

tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger

[onboardsorasora]

Does de aged Daniel meet any of the other drivers? He’d be enamored by Lewis’ tattoos and would love to play games with Lando

Yes he does!

De-Aged Daniel | De-Aged Daniel Pt2 | De-Aged Daniel Pt3 | De- Aged Daniel Pt 5

The problem with children and waiting was that patience was a very finite resource. And considering that Max had had to essentially request a new order, Little Daniel ran out of patience. And ring pop.

So here they were, walking through the streets of Monaco so that Max could avoid a sugar induced melt down and distract Little Daniel with the scenery. He was particularly interested in the sports cars, which checked out.

Max held Little Daniel’s legs while he sat comfortably on Max’s broad shoulders.

“Maxy! Look at the boat!” Little Daniel said excitedly, pointing to the large boats in the harbour. 

“They’re so big!” Max replied in awe, smiling when Little Daniel grabbed onto his head again, holding tight.

“Max?” They both turned at the sound of Max’s name. Max waved as Lewis walked up the path with Roscoe on a leash. “Hey man. Who’s this lil guy?” Lewis smiled, lifting his sunnies to rest atop is head. His eyes wided then creased in confusion at the familiar face.

“Hey Daniel, this is Lewis and Roscoe.” Max introduced, he smiled wryly at Lewis when Little Daniel ducked down to rest his head on top of Max’s, to hide in his hair.

“Hi.” Little Daniel whispered.

“Its nice to meet you!” Lewis waved. He was still confused but things were becoming clearer. To Max he asked, “he switched?”

“This morning.” Max confirmed. “Stress, I think.” 

“So he’s gone back to his least stressful time.” Lewis nodded, he completely understood.

“Yeah ‘94 or ‘95 I think–”

“Your tadoos look cool.” A soft voice popped up, Lewis looked up to see Little Daniel looking at the ink on his arm.

“Thank you lil man! Would you like to touch them?” Lewis lifted his arm and both drivers watched as Little Daniel softly traced the outline of his forearm piece.

“They’re pretty.” Little Daniel clutched Max’s head again and Roscoe took that opportunity to bark for attention. “Oh!” Little Daniel breathed and Max could feel his limbs lock tightly.

“Roscoe just wants to say hi.” Lewis smiled, bending down to scoop Roscoe into his arms. Little Daniel’s eyes widened and he tried to scramble off of Max’s shoulder to get away from the suddenly closer dog.

“Daniel, it's ok. Roscoe won’t hurt you. I promise, he’s not scary.” Max held Little Daniel’s slight form to his chest, rubbing his back soothingly while the little boy tried to merge their bodies together. He pressed his face into Max’s neck, clenching his eyes closed.

Lewis watched it all happen, owlishly. Little Daniel curled in on himself in Max’s hold, as far away from Lewis and Roscoe as he could and Max spoke soothingly and calmly.

“He’s afraid of dogs.” Max supplied helpfully and Lewis blinked back as if Max had slapped him. Daniel was afraid of dogs? Sure he’d never gotten super close to Roscoe but Lewis hadn’t realized it was a fear thing rather than an indifference thing. All those times Roscoe had run up to him and Daniel had stood still and smiled while Angela got him suddenly made sense.

“Oh.” Was all Lewis could say. “I’m sorry lil guy.” He placed Roscoe back on the ground, scratching his ear lovingly.

“It's ok I think. Right Daniel? I think he was just surprised.” Max tried to soothe.

“Lemme buy you guys’ lunch. Where are you headed?” 

“We were just going to pick up pizza, Daniel ordered all the things– right Daniel?” Max tried to tease, poking Little Daniel in his side. Little Daniel nodded, face still pressed into Max’s neck. Max smiled at Lewis who smiled back, still looking contrite.

They got to the parlour, Lewis was surprised to see that it was one that he frequented often, he looked to Max who nodded down to Little Daniel who was peaking at Lewis over his shoulder.

“He’s allergic to everything mate.” Max ruffled Daniel’s curls playfully. Lewis snorted and they sat at a table on the patio, Roscoe beneath them. Max left Daniel on an empty seat to go get their order and a waitress walked passed him with some markers and a colouring book. He was surprised to get back to the table to see Little Daniel colouring into the negative spaces of Lewis’ tattoos. His humming bird was red and blue and Little Daniel was busy shading purple in the geometry.

Max raised a questioning brow and Lewis grinned and shrugged. Lunch was spent offering bites to Little Daniel while he tried to focus on his masterpiece.

[svtminji]

what were the members reaction to jeongmi’s relationship? were some members rooting for them since the beginning or was totally shocked by the news

omg! this was something i’ve been meaning to start writing, esp. for the jeongmi files, but didn’t really know how to expand from it. the ask really drove me to write this.. so thank u anon !! 🐈‍⬛🐈🤍

٩(^‿^)۶ SEVENTEEN’S REACTION TO JEONGMI’S RELATIONSHIP !

pairing. jeonghan x oc — seventeen x oc

date set. late 2020 / november 2020

word count. 1.1k

warnings. foul language used, one mention of their engagement, mutual pining omg 😫

an. again.. thank u to my anon for asking this ^_^

anon asks related to this. mingyu reaction

LEAST SURPRISED — “oh, okay. yeah we could tell you two liked each other for a long ass time already. i’m surprised you didn’t get together sooner.” ->

seungcheol/s.coups & joshua

ok this two men were like.. thankful that the pair finally had the balls to ask each other out after like 2 years of painful flirting omg. since the 95 line are usually closer to each other, the jeongmi couple had their designated person that they talked to about their love problems. sc&js definitely heard both sides of jeonghan and minji about their “undying love” for each other but didn’t know if it really was that for TWO YEARS STRAIGHT. #1 WINGMEN—“oh hey jeonghan, why don’t you go help out mizu with her tasks. i’m sure she won’t mind you” or “oh sorry about that mizu, but i’m sure jeonghan can help you with that task”— and they would SET THEM UP on dates omfg. the news wasn’t surprising to them at all. to them, they were already a couple with the way they acted towards each other tbh. — “god fucking FINALLY!! it’s about damn time!”

seungkwan & chan/dino

seungkwan. kwannie. chan. channie *violently sobs*. these men rooted for them like children of divorce who went through hell and back to get their parents back even though they never had a divorce but they were just not together or married. in satirical forms, they would ironically call them mom and dad and only to please their ideals, they would respond to it. literally pushed the jeongmi agenda—“ah minji-noona, when are you going to date jeonghan-hyung? what do you mean ‘no?’, he literally throws heart eyes to you whenever you have the chance to speak and you do it as well..”— and they did not fail! news wasn’t surprising, they literally raised seungkwan and chan.. — “see! i told you they were going to date. now give me those $50 bucks right now.” “hyung, are you serious right now..?”

SEMI SURPRISED — “oh, i mean i expected it but i didn’t think it would be so early.” ->

wonwoo

just because this man is quiet, DOES NOT mean he doesn’t enjoy the drama 🙄!! one of the first people to realize what was going on between jeongmi, excluding the fact they smashed before dating each other. actively had told minji to ask jeonghan out but wonwoo never saw it happen rip 💔. he was more worried about the articles that would come out once they were either: 1) exposed, or 2) came out themselves and said it. — “ah. see! i told you everything was going to be alright! i literally told you to ask him and boom.. he beat you to it.”

minghao & vernon

these two could see that jeonghan & minji would eventually get together some day but they didn’t know when. unlike sc, js & chan, they didn’t push much thought into it but supported the jeongmi agenda. they’ve seen the signs of a future relationship, given how minji would act with jeonghan. minji also brought a side out of jeonghan.. ❪ like being babied ❫, and to be honest, hao and vern were like .. “tf when did he get all mushy mushy with mizu..?”. they were surprised to say the least but it wasn’t the biggest news to them ❪ like jeongmi getting engaged ❫.

SURPRISED — “how long did you guys know.. and why didn’t you tell us beforehand!!!” ->

hoshi/soonyoung

he would see the sneaky glances between them during any sort of dance practice. during dance practices, soonyoung is on HIGH ALERT all the time and frankly, he does not want anyone messing up, including his main dancers chan and minji. seeing minji distracted during practice was pretty rare and seeing her this distracted because of jeonghan was even WEIRD. did some investigation but later gave up because he forgot. didn’t help that he got frequent visits from jeonghan ❪ same dorm building in 2020 ❫ and jeonghan would as him some questions about minji. — “what do you mean they’ve been dating? oh, is that why you asked me if minji was talking to anyone?”

dk/seokmin & mingyu

these two were surprised. seokmin was shocked and mingyu fell to his knees ❪ not clickbait, see image at the end ❫. mingyu couldn’t believe he was flirting with a taken woman, still did afterward. they couldn’t believe their eyes and had to take breather. — “so you’re telling me that you two are together? okay. that’s reasonable considering you two were always together. right mingyu? mingyu..?” image at the end.

MOST SURPRISED — “WHAT THE FUCK.” ->

jun/junhui

oh this man LIVES on his phone, spends most of his off days catching up on whatever he missed. sure he’s heard a thing or two about them, especially from minji, and shrugged it off. he always thought that it was weird that minji had a certain feeling for jeonghan but honestly, who wouldnt? so whatever was said about him from her, he honestly did not give a f.. until they announced it. he’s literally the shocked cat meme or wtv cat memes there are now 🙀🙀🙀 literally him. ngl.. he’s the type to forget their dating because he’ll pop in the room and see them pdaing and boom! “what the fuck is going on??” — “what do you mean they’ve been eyeing each other? HOW?”

woozi/jihoon

this man LIVES in his workplace. what makes you think he’s going to understand the emotional love from these two..? though he did find it weird that minji was asking his opinion on love songs she wrote, but didn’t mention it. and why was jeonghan so keen on wanting to learn more japanese..? on the dates they were busy with either music shows or gose, he did notice that they were closer to eachother and found it extremely strange. #was the last one to find out — “so you’ve been telling me that you two have liked each other for how many years? TWO? oh my god.. you better be fucking with me”

EXTRA BONUS: PARENT’S REACTION

DOI HOUSEHOLD ->

mom and dad were NOT surprised at all. the calls made from minji to her parents always ended on a strange note: “so when are you going to ask out jeonghan?” or “are you and jeonghan finally dating or what?”. minji had enough during the early months of 2020, and kept her secret when they finally started dating. — “mariana mizuki cortez doi. why did we have to hear it from the agency that you were finally dating jeonghan..? oh, you better pray that you are not home til the next year.” — though afterward, they were extremely supportive of the young couple.

YOON HOUSEHOLD ->

just like minji’s parents, the yoon parents were NOT surprised. they always regarded minji as a sweet girl and had always told jeonghan to bring her home more often, without the rest of the members. they also pushed the jeongmi agenda onto jeonghan in hopes he would ask out minji sooner or later. after a month or so of dating, jeonghan would eventually tell his parents on what their newfound relationship was built on.

some were short due to the diverse set of reactions!! but here’s jun’s reaction and mingyu’s reaction.

svtminji est 2023

[aristocratic-otter]

Thank you, @cutestkilla, @nausikaaa, @that-disabled-princess, @youarenevertooold, @fatalfangirl and @whatevertheweather for the tags!

So, once again, no snippets from Saving Simon Snow or The Heart in the Well (still reviewing them to figure out where I want to go), but I've got double chunks of TikTok Dancer and Stars, Flowers, and Children for you (and a normal sized slice of Snow Fox. The next chapter is so close to being ready for posting!).

Then there's COBB and Erotic Gropefest coming. I've got my idea for COBB, and I've already outlined a fic for EG. Big hint...it was one of the unfinished fics I teased in a 'what are your WIPs' last year. And the one I got the most feedback saying people wanted me to write it! I reviewed my fic ideas folder and decided this one is perfect for EG.

And, I've got a question. I've got more than enough content on both TikTok Dancer and Stars, Flowers, and Children, and I know where I'm going on what's left for each, so I'll likely start posting one of them soon. Feel free to leave your vote on which one in the tags, and I'll consider it!

With no further ado, here's 12 sentences from TikTok Dancer

I frown. Surely a troop of dancers on Santa Monica pier isn’t that extraordinary. “Why wouldn’t I believe it?” I ask.

Dev’s hardly listening to me. “I mean, I knew that there was a chance we’d see celebrities in LA. I mean, this is a celebrity breeding ground, right? But right in front of our hotel? And we get to see them filming?” He turns to me as if expecting me to enthusiastically agree with him. I’m beginning to understand that I’m missing some context here.

“What celebrities?” I ask weakly. 

Dev and Niall both freeze, goggling at me in disbelief. This time, Niall recovers first. “You mean you’ve been watching them through the window and didn’t recognise Simon Snow, Agatha Wellbelove and Shepard Love?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Those sound like made-up names.”

Some young Baz yearning, from Stars, Flowers, and Children:

It’s in our fifteenth year that we both finally have growth spurts. Simon’s indignant that, even after he grows several inches, I’m still taller than him by at least three inches. But, not that I’ve got anything but memory to judge by, but I think we’re both man-high. 

But height isn’t the only thing that changes about Simon Snow. I wish it was. 

But no, Simon has now grown from the freckled street urchin with shorn hair that I first saw on board the SS Watford to a full-grown man, with everything that goes with that. He’s powerfully muscular because of all his building work, and his skin is burnished gold from hours in the sun. His bronze hair is grown out into ringlets that are also kissed by the sun. And all the stars of the universe are scattered across his skin in a host of golden-brown freckles and moles. 

Even his blue eyes, though they’re nothing special when it comes to colour, are such a contrast to his sun-darkened skin that they stand out from his face with a lambent light.

From Snow Fox (the smut is done, I just have to get Baz out of the sticky situation I've put him in).

Tarleton is a horrific bore. The arse only talks about himself–his achievements, his family background, his personal wealth. He hasn’t asked a single thing about me this entire time. When our steaks are dropped in front of us by a bellicose server, I’m grateful for a chance to look at something other than his insipid face. I eat slowly, delicately. I don’t want to get to the part of this ‘date’ where Tarleton suggests we retire to a paid room in the local hotel. 

Tags and encouraging pats on the back to the friends above (we'll make it through January) and to:

@artsyunderstudy, @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @best--dress, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @captain-aralias, @confused-bi-queer, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @skee3000, @frjsti, @facewithoutheart, @gekkoinapeartree, @giishu, @hushed-chorus, @ileadacharmedlife, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @j-nipper-95, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @messofthejess, @martsonmars, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @nightimedreamersghost, @raenestee, @rimeswithpurple, @shrekgogurt, @stardustasincocaine, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[riaaanna]

INTERVIEW WITH BRIAN MAY - TOTAL GUITAR CHRISTMAS 1998

From the excessive majesty of Queen to his solo career successes, Brian May’s irrepressible desire for pushing the boundaries of melodic rock in unrivalled. Joe Bennett gets the lowdown from one of rock guitar’s greatest innovators.

You’d think people like Brian May could take it easy, wouldn’t you? With 18 Queen albums under his belt and two of his own, he could be forgiven for sitting back and feeling at least slightly pleased with himself. Not a bit of it. The words ‘perfectionist’ and ‘workaholic’ seem scarcely adequate for a man who has taken six years to record his latest album, and doesn’t plan to take any time off from touring for the rest of the years. And his enthusiasm for gigging is obvious:

“We’re touring Japan, by way of Russia, and that takes us up to the middle of November and then I’m not sure how long I want to be out for. The temptation, once you’ve started, is to keep going ‘cause you’re all geared up, you’ve got all the right people and you’ve rehearsed.”

Tragically ‘all the right people’ lacks one individual. Drummer Cozy Powell died in a car accident earlier this year. “Cozy was such a great guy and a close friend – it’ll be really strange to look behind me on stage and not see him there. For a time we even did a few gigs without a drummer but after a lot of thought and heart-searching we all thought we should use one. We found Eric Singer; he’s blinding, but it’s tough to fill Cozy’s shoes. I’d built a lot of my style round him – he’d been a hero of mine for years. I judged my writing by how it sounded when Cozy played it. The idea is not to replace him though, just to move on. Eric comes from the right place, you know?

“Somebody once told me when we started out that a band is only as good as its drummer. I thought that was crap but over the years I’ve realized it’s true. You can get away with a crap guitarist quite easily – and a lot of people do! – but you can’t get away with sloppy drumming. It makes the whole thing sound really amateurish. The level of energy the upper limit, is set by the drummer.”

Playing Live

Brian crafts his gig set lists very carefully, and he sees the gigging experience as much more than simply copying the original recording. “You’re supposed to be finding new moments with the audience, so each gig should be unique. With the recognizable Queen stuff, I do tend to settle for something that sounds a lot like what I did in the first place – some audiences want that. You’re always treading that line between keeping yourself fresh and giving people something they want to hear.”

And Queen, of course, had an additional practical problem to deal with when playing live – how to recreate the band’s heavily-produced sound in a guitar/bass/drums format. “We tried out a lot of songs two or three times and they just weren’t made for the stage – stuff from Flash Gordon springs to mind. We also didn’t do stuff that Roger or I sang on the albums because we wanted to use Freddie as the frontman as much as possible. I mean, when you have the greatest frontman in the world you don’t want to waste his time!

“Some of the rock songs stayed in the live set just ‘cause they were cracking played live. Tie Your Mother Down, for example, never left the live set and it probably never will. Certain songs just have that chemistry… you want to play them ‘til you die.”

But despite the sadness that Brian associates with the end of the band, the last few years have given him freedom to explore new areas. “After Back to the Light tour I made the decision to head towards the second album, but on the way I would try and get out into the world and interact more. From the beginning of Queen there was such momentum that I never had any time to do anything else. My energy was 95% focused on the band. Then there was all that time when we knew Freddie was on the way out, we kept our heads down again. When he’d gone, my way of dealing with it was to get busy.”

One of these projects was the posthumous work to be one on Freddie’s final recorded tracks. “We had promised Freddie – and ourselves – that we would finish the album after he’d gone. He’d wanted us to give him as many vocal lines to record as we could, but even though we’d made that commitment, actually doing it was really hard. We only had scraps, sometimes vocals without anything else, to work on. It was an enormous task and it took literally two years out of my life. You can imagine the frustration because I had ideas in my head, but this was a labour of love because it was for Freddie. It was enormously exciting but enormously sad as well. And all this time my next album was gathering dust because I was pretty much focused on the Queen album.”

The three remaining members of the band still get on well, but they haven’t collaborated with Brian on his solo work; “I consciously wanted to avoid my second album being connected with Queen – that’s why Roger and John don’t appear on it. We have our own separate paths, we always did have, and I think that was part of our strength. It was a very strong partnership but we were always having to give something up and compromise. Four songwriters in a four-piece band – what can I say?”

Roger, John and Brian did, however, record one last song as a band. “The original plan was that we’d finish the last Queen album and then I’d get back to my own work. Then the Queen Rocks compilation came up. The record company wanted to put out a compilation album ad we thought it’d be a good idea to encourage people to remember the heavy stuff that Queen recorded – I’ve always had a fondness for the rockier side of things. Roger and John heard a track I’d done called No-one But You, which was originally going to be on my own album. Roger loved it and thought we should do it as Queen. I knew that the lyric was very much about Freddie, but Roger wanted to make it more general, change the tempo – so I lost a song, and Queen gained one!”

Brian and Beck

The songs which did eventually make it on to Brian’s latest solo LP, Another World, are a mixed bunch indeed. As well as covers of Brian’s own favourites – Hendrix’s One Rainy Wish and Mott the Hoople’s All the Young Dudes to name but two – he’s included material based on outside projects he’s been involved in. Cyborg (on this month’s CD) was originally written as a soundtrack to a computer game, and The Guv’nor was the theme to TV series which never made it to the small screen.

“The Guv’norwas a television programme about a bare-knuckle boxer in the original script, but it worked as a metaphor, and I started thinking – in our world, the world of guitar players, we have people like that, who we think of as our Guv’nor. Jeff Beck is like that, he’s great but he’s really unpredictable, spiky and frighteningly original. You feel small next to him, kind of wary. So I began to think the song was about him and I rang him up – which took a moment of courage from me! I asked him to play on it, and he turned up and did a recording session here at the house. Being the caring, professional player that he is, he wasn’t satisfied with his own guitar parts – although I loved them – so he took it away to work on it. I didn’t get it back until a year later!”

But apart from this one guest slot, all the other guitar parts on the album are Brian’s own, including the ubiquitous layered harmony parts that are his trademark. “I grew up with an obsession about harmony. Every record I heard I would wonder why certain harmonies and chords had certain effects on me. So it’s a habit I had of letting something wash over me, and then figuring out afterwards why it had moved me. I learned that the lines and the crossing points are the key points, really. I never studied harmony formally – it was mainly done by listening. I picked up a book on harmony once, but it just gave me the names for things, which I wasn’t really interested in. I believe in intuition more than anything. I mean I know something about the techniques of inversions and everything, but mainly it’s like, “What happens when I do this?”

May Gear

Suitably enough, this brings the conversation round to the inevitable subject of guitars and amplifiers. The question ‘Are you still using AC30s?’ is rendered pointless as we turn a corner and walk into a room literally filled with Vox combos. And Brian’s Red Special, affectionately known as the ‘Old Lady’ is still going strong, thanks to some fairly major repair work by guitar surgeon Greg Fryer. “The guitar was getting dangerously worn from 30 years of gigs, but I could never retire it. It’s a link with my dad, we made it together in the late ‘60s, and I don’t play anything else – apart from the excellent copies that Greg’s made for me, of course.”

Brian’s passion for his instrument was never faltered, and he’s happy to find that many TG readers still look to classic rock material for their inspiration; “I’ve always lived in that guitar world. I have noticed kids that I come across being more into the real essence of guitar music now. I walked into my friend’s son’s bedroom a couple of years ago and there were posters for Led Zeppelin and Hendrix all over the walls – I was expecting hip hop, rap and all that.”

“With all of that early rock stuff – and I suppose I can include Queen – there’s a certain directness and passion about it. It has that emotional intensity and unfettered quality. You’re always trying to capture those moments, and not always successfully… there are times when I’ve been feeling something and played a solo that I’ve never been able to repeat.”

Transcription Troubles

Perhaps surprisingly, Brian is unaware of the massive amount of Queen guitar tablature available, and he is far from up-to-date on recent developments in transcription quality. “I never took sheet music seriously. I remember getting some for The Shadows’ stuff, then realising it was nothing like the record and that I could do better myself just by listening to other people and using my own intuition.

“For example, I remember the first time I tried tapping, I actually got the idea from someone else in the early ‘70s. We were on tour in Texas, and a few beverages had been consumed while we were watching a bar band. The guitarist kept adding this high note as a single tap to his blues licks, and it sounded like a flute or clarinet or something. I told him I was going to nick it and he said, ‘fine’! He’d nicked it off someone else anyway. He said he’d heard Billy Gibbons do it on a ZZ Top album, but I’ve listened to all their stuff since and I still don’t know which track he means.

“So that’s how it happens – but it doesn’t always have to be a guitar that you get new ideas from. As a kid I listened to an arranged trad jazz band called the Temperance Seven, and they used a technique that they called ‘bells’, where every note is played on a different instrument and it’s all sustained, cascading with harmonic effects. Mantovani did it too – he was a great influence on me – and I did it on my first album. That’s the inspiration for the second half of the Killer Queen solo…”

Guitar Heroes

So how does he feel about players learning his own solos from transcriptions? “I think that’s really good. It’s great if players learn their craft by listening to how other people do it. Pick up everything that’s out there – there’s no shame in that at all. Individual style will emerge anyway, like Chinese whispers. George Harrison once tried to play Apache by The Shadows and he couldn’t remember it, so it came out as something completely different – and that’s fair enough. I go to see Joe Satriani or Steve Vai – those guys are way ahead of me and I pick up something new every time. I’m lucky in that I can talk to them because I’m in a privileged position. They say they listen to my stuff too, which is great but I’m under no illusions!”

“Ultimately, I think if I’ve got anything to say a s a guitar player it’s because I’m open and I listen, and I find my own way – but in the full knowledge of what other people are doing. How can you learn a language if you don’t listen to people speak? This magazine of yours would have helped me if it had been around when I was starting out, I can tell you!” Ah, thanks Brian…

The Deacy amp

Although Brian’s main amp is the Vox AC30, most of his harmony parts have been recorded using a home-made transistor amp, constructed out of cannibalised circuitry and an old hi-fi speaker by Queen bassist (and electronics graduate) John Deacon.

“How that amp works is a mystery to us,” admits Brian with a laugh. “John says he found the pre-amp circuit on a skip and that he just threw it all together, but then he’s a modest guy – he knows what he’s doing. It’s on loads of recordings. I remember definitely The Fairy Feller’s Masterstroke from Queen II, God Save the Queen and Good Company from A Night at the Opera – most of the layered stuff. All those trombone and clarinet sounds on that album, they’re just a combination of pickups, selection, treble booster, wah-wah and technique.”

Astronomy and Then Some

And so the time comes when we have to leve Brian to his schedule (with a couple of gratis copies of Total Guitar, natch). This afternoon he’s got a telephone interview with the local radio station. Then he’s got a meeting with his publicity person about cover artwork.

This coming weekend he’ll be on BBC Radio 4. Of course, Greg will be at the house tomorrow to continue working with Brian on the live rig. And there’s the radio mix of the new single to mix. Oh, and still he’s working on his book about 19th century stereo photography. Plus he’s got his PhD to finish too. Makes you wonder how he finds the time to pick up his guitar…

[appalachianapologies]

I’m cackling PLEASE tell me about ‘this man is going to have problems!!!!!’

asdfkjdskjfjk okay so this is the working title for my The Martian fic that i wrote literally 95% - 99% of in january of 2022 and have STILL NOT FINISHED and it bothers me more than i'd like to admit that i cannot find the right way to end it. i wrote 7k words and then shrugged and said "okay well all i need is like 300 more words to conclude it!" and then got stuck there for over two years. and now i'm writing my thesis on mars, so mark watney has clearly gotten the last laugh here.

I'm not sure if you're familiar with The Martian, but here's some fun words from that fic regardless :D

I’m going to go back home. Back to a planet that isn’t actively trying to kill me at any given moment.

And just like that, all of the fight leaves me in an instant.

I feel so unbelievably naked, and that’s not just because I’m sitting on a cot wearing only my boxers. It’s like a switch has been flipped in my brain, and all I can think about is Earth.

Home.

“...ney. Dammit, Mark!”

Swallowing, I look up. Beck’s hand is on my shoulder and he’s closer to my face than he was just a second ago.

At least, what I assume was a second ago.

Who actually knows?

“Holy shit,” I mutter, looking at Beck. “I’m a fucking mess.”

There’s a quiet breath of relief when Beck realizes I’m speaking to him, but he still doesn’t pull his hand off of my shoulder. “Honestly Watney, I think that’s an understatement.”

[haledamage]

talk me down

@queen-scribbles HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT!!! 💗💗💗💗 I thought you could use some more Tragen/Marii in your life 😉 well, this is way back on Yavin during all that Revan business, so it’s pre-ship, but I’m at least 95% sure this is Marii’s “oh no” moment. She’s definitely crushing on him by this point (and who could blame her, really?) XD I hope you enjoy, and you have the BEST day!

title from the song “talk me down” by People I Like, which just evokes the perfect mood for this story 💗

---

Twilight on Yavin 4 was long and slow, the sky lingering in gold and then gray for what felt like hours before night finally fell. The Coalition went their separate ways to make camp, as always; the Republic and Empire may have been willing to work together--for now--but they were still a long way from trusting each other while they slept.

With a few notable exceptions.

Marii sat on the edge of a cargo loader a few meters off the ground, letting her legs dangle over the open air beneath her and resting her elbows on the railing. Below her, her own little coalition was in the middle of making dinner. Kira and Vette spoke animatedly about something she was too far away to hear, Doc occasionally chiming in with something that made both women roll their eyes. Only Jaesa seemed to be actually working on cooking, but she smiled to herself as she listened to the conversations around her. Lord Scourge loomed near the edge of the camp, watching but keeping his distance as he always did, and Tragen was--

“Good evening, Aramarii.”

--Was right behind her. Curse his uncanny ability to sneak up on her. Even with the Force she could only sense him if he wanted her to.

“Hey.” She tilted her head up as he came to stand next to her. “Did they kick you outta the kitchen too?”

There was still enough light for her to see his wry smile. “Something like that. Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

Tragen sat down next to her, looking impossibly graceful as he did so. Marii wasn’t sure if she envied him for it or just admired him.

They sat in silence for a while, letting the descending night settle comfortably around them. It was… nice. Peaceful, even. She let her eyes slip closed and basked in it for a moment, the buzz of night insects and conversation from below, the cooling air and the warmth radiating from the man--the friend? She liked to think they could call each other friend by now--beside her.

When Tragen finally spoke, he kept his voice quiet enough to not break the serenity around them. “Jaesa told me you spoke with her this afternoon.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but Marii flinched anyway. “A little, yeah. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course it is. I suspect you have quite a bit in common.” She could feel him watching her and knew he could see her clearly even as it grew darker. He saw everything, it felt like. “May I ask what you talked about?”

“All sorts of things. The Jedi. The Sith. You.” She finally opened her eyes and looked his way. “She told me about how the two of you met. About what you did.”

“And what did I do?” he asked carefully. All the warmth in his voice and expression were gone, turned cool and guarded.

On instinct, Marii reached out and covered his hand with hers where it rested on the railing. “You saved her, Tragen.” 

That coldness was gone as quickly as it’d arrived, replaced first by surprise and then by a smile bright enough to push away the encroaching darkness. It made her face grow warm and something in her chest feel strangely weightless.

She pushed the feeling away quickly. This was not the right time to examine that reaction or what it could mean.

Marii managed to maintain eye contact, at least, though she had to clear her throat before she could continue. “She said her master had big plans for her. So did yours. You chose a different path.”

Tragen scratched at the back of his neck and looked away for the first time since he sat down. “She chose the path herself. I just showed her it was there.”

She studied his profile, the line of his nose and sharp edge of his jaw perfectly silhouetted against the lights of the camps below. “I wish I’d had someone like you,” she whispered, the confession escaping while she was distracted, “to do the same for me.”

“Do you want to be Sith, Aramarii?” He was whispering too, like somehow Satele or Marr would be able to hear them from the other side of the clearing. Like they were kids telling secrets after curfew. Like the biggest rule they were breaking by sitting there together was just staying up too late.

“No.” That much, at least, she was sure of. “But… well, you may have noticed that the Jedi encampment is over there.” She pointed to the farthest side of the clearing where a meditation circle had been set up, separate even from the rest of the Republic camp. “And I’m way over here.”

He hummed, an acknowledgement that he was listening while choosing not to interrupt.

Marii chose to blame her responding shiver on the chill settling in as full night fell at last.

Even as dark as it was, she could still make out the green of his eyes as she made her second confession of the night. “I’m not very good at being a Jedi, Tragen. I get attached.”

He chuckled, low and a little playful. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“So I’m told.” She spoke with the drone of a lecture, repeating words she’d heard many times before. “Attachment can make you selfish. Make you put the life of one person over the lives of others.” She sighed, scrubbed a hand roughly through her hair as if it was to blame for her crisis of faith. “The Order’s strict about it. No family, no lovers, no children, not even any close friendships. That’s why Theron and Satele are… the way they are.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“I wouldn’t know. As I said, I’m not a good Jedi.”

Tragen let out a sigh of his own, leaning forward to rest his chin on the rail, looking out over the jungle. “I wish I could say the Sith were better at it. Passion may be encouraged, but… it is hard to build a relationship without trust, and there is no trust among Sith.” There was an ache in his normally warm voice, sad and bitter and resigned all at once. “The closer one gets, the easier it is for them to stab you in the back.”

Marii squeezed his hand, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. After a moment, he squeezed back.

“Sounds lonely,” she echoed, unsure what else to say.

“It is. It used to be.” He looked down at their camp and the mismatched group of lost and wayward souls they’d both collected. “They make things better.”

“Yes. They do.” And so do you, she almost said, but the words never made it past her lips. Probably for the best.

Tragen looked back at her with another of those smiles, bright and warm and devastatingly beautiful, and Marii got the sense he heard it anyway. Strangely, she was okay with that.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Aramarii.”

That drew out a smile of her own, not quite as bright, but soft and sweet in a way she rarely let herself be. She was too distracted by her own thoughts to notice how captivated he was by it, and the dark hid the faint blush that bloomed across his cheeks.

She leaned closer until their shoulders touched, heedless and unaware. “If anything, I should be thanking you. You may not have shown me a new path, but… well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one walking this one.”

He shifted, pressing their shoulders together more firmly. “Whatever happens, after this mission is complete, know that you have a friend in me. And I suspect in Jaesa and Vette, as well, though I can’t speak for them.”

“Same goes for me. And Kira.” She wouldn’t answer for Doc or Scourge, but she at least knew her former padawan’s feelings on the matter. ‘I hate that I like them so much’ had been her exact words. “You ever need anything, call and I’m there. Anytime.”

---

“So,” Vette propped her elbows on the edge of the crate they were using as a table, leaning her chin on her hands so she could better see the cargo loader and the Jedi and Sith on top of it, “how long d’you think it’ll take them to realize they’re still holding hands?”

Kira snorted a laugh, glancing up to follow Vette’s gaze for a moment before turning back to the camp stove. “If they haven’t noticed by now, my money’s on ‘sudden realization three years from now just before falling asleep.’”

Jaesa responded with a chuckle and a shake of her head. “Oh, leave them alone, you two. Let them have a little privacy. They’ve earned it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kira drawled, completely genuine despite the sarcasm in her voice. “I guess if we’re gonna fraternize with the ‘enemy,’ I’m glad it’s him. And you. We could’ve done a whole lot worse.”

“Aww, shucks.” Vette leaned against Kira’s shoulder, batting her eyes dramatically. “Are we gonna hold hands now, too?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She exchanged a conspiratorial look with the twi'lek. “So which of us gets to go tell them dinner’s ready?”

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 16: One round monotonous of change

Tim knew before the week was out that he was right not to clue the new Archives crew into everything. Or anything, for that matter.

He’d learned very quickly not to attempt to help Jon, at least not when the others were around. Actually, dealing with Jon was a delicate balance of being helpful without being too helpful, keeping things running without making it obvious that he was anticipating orders at best and doing what he’d always done regardless of said orders at worst. The man was obviously insecure, completely unprepared for his position, and despite what he’d said the first day about Elias telling him he’d be fine with Tim there, he didn’t seem particularly keen to take advice or suggestions. Tim gave him the simplistic, obvious notes Gertrude had left him, smiled and joked his way around the edges of the workday, and metaphorically washed his hands of the situation.

Sasha, now, Sasha was interesting. She was definitely more aware of what archiving entailed than Jon was, and a bit of conversation had revealed she’d been in academia longer than he had, which made Tim wonder how come Elias hadn’t appointed her the temporary archivist instead. She was, however, largely focused on the computer work. She’d come in the third day with a whole suite of books on MS-DOS and Windows 95 that she’d scrounged somewhere—and sworn a blue streak when she realized the computer’s operating system was Windows 3.11—and, like Jon, stubbornly refused assistance. Tim made a token offer of help, accepted her refusal with seeming grace, and left her to it.

Martin was actually the only one willing to accept Tim’s help, although he always waited until they were alone to ask for it. Tim assumed he was embarrassed that he needed help—he’d been with the Institute ten years—but honestly, it was kind of a relief to be able to help someone. Still…there was something off about him. Tim couldn’t quite put his finger on what, just that he didn’t seem like an almost forty-year-old academic with a master’s degree in parapsychology. Among other things, he seemed really not to be at home with the sorts of research they did, even if it wasn’t as…traditional as the kind most academia did. He’d also been very vague on what he’d done his master’s thesis on. Tim chose not to press him and just made sure the work, cursory though it may have been, was getting done.

Coming in to do his…independent research was harder than he’d thought initially, too. Jon was so paranoid about being seen not doing his job that he came in before eight and left well after five, and Tim hadn’t yet figured out his schedule well enough that he could get in early and get out before he was noticed, or for that matter be sure that if he came in after hours he wouldn’t get caught. He was doing what he could at home with Gerry, but for the first time, he fully appreciated what Gertrude had meant when she’d said she needed the Archives to progress her research. There were statements there that would help, he knew it, and he needed the free time to really explore the shelves and find the ones he needed.

Friday seemed like his best bet; he lingered over the (admittedly totally bullshit) statement he was researching, told Martin and Sasha not to worry about him, and kept an eye on the Archivist’s door. Jon came out eventually, looking tired, then froze when he saw Tim. He cleared his throat and straightened. Tim almost felt bad. Almost. “Tim. What are you still doing here?”

“Just finishing up some notes on the Cook case,” Tim lied cheerfully. Everything he needed had come in well ahead of time and was organized. “Monday being the spring bank holiday and all, I didn’t want to let it linger. You go ahead, I’ll close up shop when I’m done.”

“No need. I’m going to do one last sweep to make sure everything is put away properly while you get that finished.” Jon turned and walked away before Tim could come up with an appropriate response.

He supposed he could hastily gather his things, pretend to leave, and lock himself in a closet until Jon left, but a glance out of the corner of his eye told him that would be for nothing. Jon was extremely thorough in checking to make sure things were ready to leave. Oh, well, maybe he could come in over the weekend—the extra day would afford him a bit of protection. He’d still have to be careful, though. They weren’t doing enough that Jon might want to come in on days the Institute was nominally closed, but you never knew.

Tim was just packing up his laptop when Jon returned, looking faintly annoyed. “That back corner looks dreadful, there were statements every which way. If Martin can’t be bothered to put things back properly, I swear—”

“Martin hasn’t been back there all week, boss. Not since I gave you guys the tour, anyway. It was probably the ghost.” Tim slung his bag over his shoulder and felt for his keys.

“The ghost,” Jon said flatly.

Tim shrugged. “I used to come in some mornings—especially Mondays—and find stuff moved around. Thought it was Gertrude for a while because she worked odd hours sometimes, but it happened while she was out of town, too. ‘S why I make sure everything is cleared off my desk before I leave.”

“And you think it’s a ghost,” Jon said in the same flat, unemotional voice as before.

Actually, no, he didn’t. Tim was fairly certain it was Elias, but there was also a possibility that it was someone else—Gerry hadn’t been the only person who helped Gertrude out from time to time, there was that fussy old man he’d spotted a time or two when he got back sooner than previously anticipated, and it was entirely possible that one of them had a key. Either way, it was why the notebook Tim and Gertrude had used for the computer was in code and why he usually made a careful sweep first thing upon arriving and last thing upon leaving. Whoever or whatever was getting in here, they didn’t need to know anything Gertrude wasn’t ready to share.

And if it wasn’t somebody on their side, at least nominally, it wasn’t likely to be a ghost.

“Well,” he said instead, giving Jon a teasing grin, “the cleaning staff doesn’t come down here, so if it’s not a ghost, it’s an extremely weird and specific burglar.”

Jon’s lips flattened briefly. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re making sure everything is cleaned up, then, if you’re worried about that,” he muttered under his breath. Aloud, he said, “Come on, then. Best to walk out before Rosie locks the front door.”

“We can go out the side door,” Tim pointed out.

“I don’t have the key to lock or unlock it from the outside.”

Since Tim knew that key had been on the bunch he gave Elias, he bit his tongue and filed that away for further use. Either Jon was lying in an attempt to catch Tim out on something, or Elias had held it back for unspecified purposes. Maybe he’d just got tired of not knowing when Tim and Gertrude were in the Archives.

They headed up the stairs together. Rosie was, in fact, just getting ready to lock the front door, but she held it for them and wished them a good weekend before shutting it behind them. Tim had taken the Tube rather than drive in because Gerry had an appointment in Penzance and needed the car, so they ended up walking together to Sloane Square before parting. Tim watched Jon head towards the opposite platform—thankfully he lived in the other direction—then turned. He was just considering backtracking and heading back to the Institute now when his gaze fell on a figure seated on one of the far benches.

Martin.

Tim’s intentions to keep his relations with his new (temporary) colleagues superficial, at least until Gertrude came back and decided if she was keeping them, were wavering in the face of Martin Blackwood. Partly—mostly—it was the fact that he kept asking for Tim’s help, but more importantly, he had at least attracted the attention of the Lonely. Tim wasn’t as good as Gerry was at spotting marks on people, not yet anyway, unless it was the Eye or the Stranger, but Martin practically wore it on his sleeve, or at least in his eyes. It may not have fully marked him yet, but he’d definitely drawn its interest. Tim had two—well, three, really—good reasons to do something about that. The first was, quite simply, that letting any of the Fourteen get hold of a person unwillingly was kind of not okay; it had been done to him, to Gerry, and in a way to Gertrude, and while he couldn’t save anyone at the Institute from the Eye, he could at least do something about any of the others, or at the very least try. The second, more serious one was that if the Lonely did get hold of Martin, it might use him to get into the Archives, and Tim wasn’t having any of that either. Attacks weren’t uncommon, and Gertrude had always been ruthless in keeping them out—one of the first things she’d taught Tim, once she clued him in, was how to ward off the Stranger so they could control whether or not it noticed him—and would never allow it to take root. If Martin succumbed to it, or it got hold of him too deeply, Tim didn’t doubt for a minute that Gertrude would throw out the baby, the bathwater, and burn the whole damn house down for good measure to be sure the Lonely didn’t have a way in. At some point it would be a kindness, but right now it would just be cruel.

The third was, quite simply, that Tim didn’t want to end up like that himself. He was only four or five years younger than Martin, and he had anchors, but…well. He remembered something Gerry had said once when talking about a woman he’d encountered in Italy: Sometimes the loneliest place in the world is in the middle of a thousand people knowing not one of them gives a damn whether you live or die.

Tim had stopped him in the middle of the palazzo and kissed him hard, in front of God and everybody, and nobody had blinked an eye, but they’d both understood what it meant. That wouldn’t work with Martin, but he could try something.

“Hey, Marto.”

Martin, who had been concentrating on a knitting project, jumped and dropped one of his needles, which clattered to the platform floor. “Oh! Tim, I d—I didn’t see you there. Did I forget something?”

“No, I just saw you when I got here and thought I’d come sit with you.” Tim bent to retrieve the fallen needle, then sat down next to Martin with a sigh. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No! N-no, I just…” Martin’s eyes darted around the platform. “I didn’t know you took the Tube. I’ve, um, I’ve never seen you. I thought you drove?”

“Have been, this week anyway. It rained on Monday and I hate dealing with the walk from here in the rain if I can help it. But my partner needed the car today.” Tim flashed Martin a grin. “Tube doesn’t run outside London.”

“Oh.” Martin looked a little flustered. “It’s—I just, I don’t remember seeing you on the line before. You’ve, you’ve been with the Institute two years, right?”

“Twenty months, but who’s counting? And I just moved a couple months ago.” Tim hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Used to live out in Hounslow, so the other direction. Which line are you waiting on, the Circle or the District?”

Martin shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. “Um, doesn’t matter, actually. I live on the Northern line.”

“You’re joking!” Tim studied Martin’s face. “You’re serious. Which end?”

“Stockwell.”

“No kidding. I’m Morden.” Tim hesitated, then made an offer he normally wouldn’t have worried about. Maybe a little because he suspected Martin would rather chew his own leg off than actually accept it, so it wouldn’t matter, but mostly because a sincere offer would go a long way towards combating the Lonely. “Remind me to give you my number, and if I’m driving in, I can swing by and give you a ride.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s—that’s very kind of you. Thank you.” Martin’s face turned pink.

The next scheduled train pulled into the platform, and Tim and Martin managed to find seats, rare enough for rush hour on the London Underground. As they settled in, Tim asked, “So what are you making there?”

“Just socks. I, um, there was a whole load of knitting wool that went up for sale cheap a couple weeks back, and I managed to get hold of it. I’ve been sort of going through it and trying plan stuff out, but there was this sock yarn, so…” Martin shrugged a little. He looked uncomfortable.

“I’m always impressed by people who can knit. I never could get the hang of it…how long have you been knitting?”

Martin, unexpectedly, blushed again. “Since I was little…seven or eight, maybe? Um, my mum, she was—she was sick a lot, so I spent a lot of time in waiting rooms, you know, and, well, it was hard to carry enough books to keep me occupied and she really didn’t like me fidgeting, so…” He flapped the half-finished sock helplessly.

Tim winced inwardly in sympathy, but kept the smile in place. A picture was forming in his mind of Martin’s childhood, and it wasn’t one that made him feel any better about the incursion of the Lonely. Best not to let that show, though. “So, what, thirty years? You must have quite a stash.”

The blush got deeper, and Martin looked surprisingly uncomfortable. The approach of the stop where they would have to switch trains meant talking went on hold—especially when the Northern pulled in just as they were getting off and they had to sprint to catch it—and while Tim had a pretty strong constitution from all the walking he’d done recently, he was not a sprinter, so it took him almost as long to catch his breath once they dropped into their seats as it did Martin. Once they were back on an even keel, though, he went back to encouraging Martin to open up a bit. “You know I’m not making fun of you about the knitting, yeah? I really want to know. I mean, it’s got to be worthwhile if you’ve been doing it for thirty years.”

Martin fidgeted slightly, worrying at his lower lip and shooting nervous glances at Tim. He’d either be a lousy poker player or a really, really good one, if this was a bluff. Tim let his own smile slip slightly and a bit of concern pop into his eyes.

That was apparently all it took. “Tim, I—l-look, look, if I…just, don’t tell Jon. Please? O-or Elias, but…I’m more worried about Jon right now.”

Okay, now Tim was actually worried. He licked his lips, but nodded. “I promise,” he said. Unconsciously, he spun the black ring around his finger to loosen it. He comforted himself with the knowledge that he never willingly shared things with Elias anyway, and that he hadn’t got to the level of trusting Jon enough to gossip to him yet…and Martin hadn’t forbidden him to tell anyone whatever this was, so he could still hash it out with Gerry later.

Martin hesitated a moment longer, gaze darting around the car. Tim guessed he was checking to make sure Jon—or possibly anyone else familiar from the Institute—wasn’t within earshot. Just before Tim prompted him, he blurted out, “I’m only twenty-six.”

Tim blinked, and mentally counted back, and then counted again. “You had your master’s degree at sixteen?”

“N-no. No, I don’t—” Martin swallowed hard. “I d-don’t have a master’s. I don’t even have a degree. I, my mum, she—I told you she was sick? Well, she, um, she got really bad about ten years back and—and I had to drop out of school and get a job. Nobody was hiring, so I—you know, I just, I started making stuff up. Anything to get my foot in the door. I lied about having a master’s degree in parapsychology and it got me in the door and…I-I mean, it didn’t, it didn’t matter so much up in the library, but now I’m in the Archives and it’s a big deal and J-Jon thinks I have all these credentials and…I-I’m toast. I’m going to get fired. I’m definitely going to get fired.”

“You’re not going to get fired,” Tim assured him. In the first place, he wasn’t sure Jon actually had the authority to fire—or hire, for that matter—anyone to begin with, and even if he did…well, he still wasn’t entirely sure Martin or Sasha were bound too the Archives if Gertrude hadn’t appointed them or affirmed their appointment, but it would at least be a comfort. “An appointment to the Archives is an appointment for life, after all. Didn’t Elias tell you that? Or Jon?”

“No?” Martin looked confused, but he also looked a bit less stressed. “Jon’s barely said two words to me, honestly, and all Elias said when he sent me down to the Archives was that someone had finally decided to give me an opportunity to move on. I thought he meant Jon, but Jon seemed like he had no idea I’d been hired, so…”

Tim twisted the ring again—it was really stuck tonight, he’d been doing a lot of writing and his hand must’ve swollen—but held his tongue. Martin didn’t need to know about Elias’s unnecessarily cruel policy. All he said was, “Well, it’s true. You’re here forever—you, me, Sasha, even Jon. No matter how mad he gets at you, he’s not going to be able to fire you.” He nudged Martin lightly. “Besides, you’re a good asset to the Archives.”

Martin blushed again. “You’re just saying that.”

“Hey, I’m the one who knew Gertrude Robinson, remember? She’d have loved to have you on the team if she’d put up an internal posting.” And you’ll probably be the only one who sticks around when she gets back, he added to himself. At least if she came back in the next few weeks. Jon was ill-suited to the Archives, at least so far, and Sasha was almost too curious for her own damned good. More to the point, Martin was the only one willing to learn. No way would Gertrude pass that up.

Martin smiled, then glanced up at the window as the train slowed. “Um, this is my stop. See you Monday, Tim.”

“Tuesday,” Tim reminded him. “Monday’s the spring bank holiday.”

“Oh! Oh, right, I forgot. Yeah, see you Tuesday.”

“See you, Martin.” Tim flashed Martin a smile and a wave as he got off the train. Martin waved back just before the doors closed.

Alone again, Tim relaxed against the seat and turned his thoughts towards the weekend. He would definitely need to go in sometime this weekend and have a look around. Maybe he’d take Gerry with him and the two of them could pull a few relevant statements. A second pair of eyes would be useful in making sure he didn’t put anything out of order and raise Jon’s suspicions…or worse, his ire.

Meanwhile, though, he thought he’d take tonight to relax. Maybe see if Gerry was up for a walk, and they could take their new shaggy overlord up to one of the parks and let him chase sticks for a bit. There would be time enough for research later.

After all…it wasn’t like it was the end of the world. Yet.

[nobodysdaydreams]

I STARTED WOLF359 SEASON 2 AND FOUND SOMEONE I HATE MORE THAN HILBERT! (Or: my reaction to episodes 14-20 of WOLF359).

Gonna keep my intro for this one short and just dive right into it.

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that. And for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs

Episode 14: The Kambaya Approach

Um… keyboard clicks and music?? WHO IS THIS? Goddard Futuristics? Who is David? Who is Saul? Rachel? WHY ARE YOU THREATENING TO THROW RACHEL OFF A BUILDING?

Ah a telephone! Could it be our crew?

Oh so THIS is Cutter. Who seems to be Hilbert’s boss. Don’t like him. Oh no did Hilbert find a way to contact him?

Oh now THERE is the telephone sound I heard at the end of last episode.

Renee? Oh so that’s her name. It’s a nice name. But I would prefer you called her “Commander Mincowski” Cutter. Give her respect, and stop acting so chipper. It’s easy to be that confident when you’re not the one in space.

And what kind of boss makes his employees work on Christmas or the day after?

Oh cool Hilbert’s name is Alexander? Wow, so cool, ✨I don’t care✨.

Cutter really seems to love the supervillain monologue. Yeah Doug, good call don’t tell them about the signal…

OH HE’S TRYING TO TEAR THEM APART. SHUT IT CUTTER. WHATEVER SECRETS MINCOWSKI AND HERA HAVE ARE NOTHING ON YOUR TOMFOOLERY.

Incredible. I did not think it was possible for me to hate someone as much as Hilbert so quickly, but he did it! Less than six minutes into season 2, and by golly Mr. Cutter did it! Round of applause for him ladies and gentlemen, truly despicable, I hope he gets his karma.

A complete waste of space. Horrible loser man.

Why do I not believe they’re actually on hold? Mincowski, please listen to him. But Doug get to the point: HILBERT WAS TRYING TO CONTACT CUTTER. HE LITERALLY SAID THAT.

Just pretend like Hilbert went insane.

YES! Taking my advice, smart play, smart play, act like you know nothing, tell them info they’d already know or could easily deduce anyway.

…Cutter. Stop calling her Renee! And stop being like this! What in the supervillain nonsense?

Oh money, of course it’s about money. And the backhanded compliments. OF COURSE DOUG IS THE BEST MAN FOR THE JOB HE’S THE ONLY OTHER MAN ABOARD.

Cutter man, your laugh… I picture him in a high school uniform kicking his feet in the air on his bed as he giggles to himself like an evil little schoolboy. “Hee hee hee I’m killing people in space 🤩” … shut up Cutter.

Okay. So. I know I wanted Hilbert to die earlier. But um… I think I might want Cutter to die more. Yeah… I’d be careful with what you transmit to Cutter. VERY careful.

Oh he knows. Doug he knows. You’re screwed. You’re… you’re completely done for.

Aw, Renee has a cute laugh. She’s nice. At least she and Doug are getting along.

But… will it be easy to get Hera back online? It’d better be. They better save her.

“No I’m not.” GOOD FOR YOU RENEE! Get something out of Hilbert. And yeah, watch the programming. Make sure if you DO get her back online that Hilbert can’t influence her.

Cutter’s instructions are BS… or wait! Is that Hera? Please be Hera.

Oh it’s the voices! It sounds like the echo in an indoor swimming pool.

“I don’t know who you are. I know you have no reason to believe anything that I’m about to say, and I know there’s nothing I can do to prove to you that this isn’t some kind of trick. But please believe me for your own sake”.

Solid start.

CAPTAIN ISABEL LOVELACE! I KNEW IT! Wait is it Lovelace or loveless??? Guess I’ll find out.

Oh the Hephaestus… but… WAIT. Are they in a time vortex? Are they getting signals from the past? Because Lovelace’s mission is over, her lab is sealed off. 955 days ago, okay, so longer than their mission, and a bigger crew too, 5 people plus Lovelace. And yeah, we got the lying thing down. and… yeah the “never make it back to earth” was also quite clear and VERY unethical. They played Hilbert like a fiddle. For a smart man, he’s far too trusting. Cutter was probably planning to shoot him the second he landed.

Communications and science officer got sick? Uh… sick from what? The astrophysicist just VANISHED? Okay… that doesn’t happen. It’s space! Where exactly could he go?

One thing is clear. These aren’t missions. They’re trials. The crew are lab rats. Though I must say, this is a very poorly designed experiment. What on earth are they even testing?

Oh right, Dr. Selburg. Wait. No. The spiders!

…but why would they be experimenting with that? If my crew was dead, and I found out I was sent to die, and I was in that situation, my first thought would not be “bummer. Oh well. Guess it’s time to make some poison spiders grow 🥰”. I honestly don’t know WHAT I’d do in that situation, but I can promise you, it wouldn’t be that.

And who is “THEY”? Command? And what something else??? THE EMPTY MAN?

Are… are the crews connected across time and space? Are they each other’s empty man? No, that wouldn’t match the messages’ warnings. Would be cool though.

“You’re not the first. We were here. Get out before it’s too late for you too.”

Poor Lovelace. And we never do find out what happens. Also Hilbert talked about a lot of other missions, implying that there were more AND that he was on them and somehow made it out alive.

Was he the astrophysicist that vanished?

Also the empty man messages: “There’s no way out…but there is a way in.” In where? Where are they supposed to go if they can’t get out?

Yikes. I guess that’s it then.

Episode 15: What’s Up Doc?

I like the title. Let’s see how the dear old doctor is doing. Perhaps he’ll be more cooperative when he finds out that his boss ordered his demise. But I doubt it.

Ah. Doug’s logs. Might want to be careful with what you say. Day 583.

Red menace’s damage to our autopilot 😂 Good to see Doug has his sense of humor. I think he’s gonna need it.

51 systems with glitches? You need Hera.

He’s playing chess? Well, looks like Doug and I have procrastination in common.

I’d hate playing any game with Hilbert. Chess or otherwise.

Huh. They don’t even have a record of Isabel Lovelace in the air force. Unless… wait crazy theory time: if time warping is a part of this, maybe Isabel is from a FUTURE crew of the Hephaestus not the past. It’s a possibility.

Also side note, but anytime I share literally any of my theories from this show, I get tons of comments that say things like “grinning like the Cheshire Cat right now”. Which is funny, because I do that when I read comments on my fanfics, and that grin usually means one thing: you found the pieces. You have all the pieces. But you won’t put them together and you won’t realize what they mean until it’s too late. I hope that’s not the case here. And if you’re Sophie please disregard this. And to the other TMBS mutuals, if you’re still reading my stuff, please disregard this.

Mincowski knows about Lovelace! Oh she doesn’t remember hearing the name in the lab. Wait… can they not remember the lab?

Yeah, we might want to isolate Hilbert a bit more. Maybe a few more days.

Oh dear. “Don’t get distracted”. Doug, please tell me you brought some adderall on board.

YOU DID MURDER HERA HILBERT. HOW DARE YOU CALL HER A PROGRAM? AND YOU ATTEMPTED TO MURDER YOUR OTHER CREW MATES FOR A MAN WHO JUST ORDERED YOUR EXECUTION.

APPLIANCE?? He’s calling her an APPLIANCE? Hilbert. You better start coughing up some info.

Haha… her imitation of his accent 😂

Apple! 😋 I love apples. 🍎 Just the thing for my hypoglycemia. Nature’s instant sugar. You might want to consider the offer Hilbert. After going days without food, you should be craving something sugary right about now.

NOW HE’S CALLING DOUG A PET MONKEY? THAT IS IT. EAT THE APPLE IN FRONT OF HIM MINCOWSKI. HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT.

On that note, I just remembered I sliced myself up an apple earlier in the fridge. Bods’ snack time! 🥰

Don’t like how confident Hilbert is about the airlock. … oh Hilbert using it as leverage.

You can still be tortured Hilbert. Slowly and painfully tortured.

“You break me? You have no idea who I am what I have done what I have endured”.

Well, we know you’re a murderous loser and pawn Hilbert. Perhaps you shouldn’t overestimate yourself.

HOW DARE YOU CALL MINCOWSKI A COWARD? HE’S IMPLYING THE WHOLE REASON SHE’D JOIN THE ARMY IS TO KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE TO KILL BUT DOESN’T HAVE THE GUTS?

Uh Hilbert man wtf is up with your world view?

“No one who matters ends up in a place like this one”

Self-esteem issues doctor?

Also what was THAT? Doug? Empty man? Blessie?

No. Doug do not. Do not. He’s running experiments on you. He’s probably been waiting for this.

He’s annoying him to death. I love it 😂.

The good times? When you tried to kill each other?

Afraid of folks back home? Now that might actually be something. And yeah, they have been lying to you.

The truth about how you ended up here? Oh was I right? Did he do crimes?

Hilbert, I think that she’d respect Doug more than you. I certainly do.

Okay good, he didn’t murder anyone. Nice to know.

Hard drive? Oh right his secret experiments.

And he probably has more backups somewhere. But for the ones we have…

✨It’s Hammer Time ✨

He’s a geneticist? Why just question this now?

Radioactively charged microbes make more soap products… is soap products a code for something.

Renee. RENEE. You are on point, but… Doug is a friend.

Mission on the ship? Wolf359 unique energy signal different from other stars. Properties used for mutations… viruses?

Doug, Hilbert doesn’t strike me as the cancer curing type.

Man made retrovirus? Reverse cellular damage? That’s huge. Theoretically… it could reverse aging… and death.

Decima is “unmanageable”?? “Active environment??” HIS BLOOD STREAM?

That is VERY illegal. You used your colleague as incubator for your pet virus? And no. No apples for you doctor. You don’t deserve apples. Apples are for people who don't do unethical science on their friends!

Episode 16: Painfully Ever After

This one is not going to be as detailed because I'm also half doing work, but I have no self control and need to know more.

...My goodness I really AM like Eiffel. I think it's the ADHD. Let's blame that.

Also..."navigation off by a few clicks...probably not important".

Um...not critical maybe, but why is navigation off? Don't think you can just slip little details like that in there and not expect me to notice. Don't think you can use my own schemes against me.

Remember when Mincowski nearly shot Hilbert over ice cream? Those were the days...

Man this apple is delicious 😋🍎.

And yeah. No painfully ever after. We still have several seasons left. We need Hera!

I agree about the math Eiffel. I got a test coming up. I should be studying, but this is clearly more important.

Ugh. Don't give Hilbert food. Not a lot at least and not the good stuff. Just enough to keep him alive. Barely anything. I want him to be nothing but skin and bones.

Don't like the ominous music.

Everyone has their limits...oh good point! Hilbert needed a fail safe plan. DO NOT SHUT THE DOOR. DO NOT TALK TO HIM.

DON'T LET HIM FIX HERA HE'S GOING TO HURT HER CODE. EXACTLY! HE IS GOING TO TRY SOMETHING! AND I'D BE A LITTLE PARANOID TOO IF EVERYONE AROUND ME HAD SO MANY SECRETS!

"I'd do anything to help get her back online again, but I'm not letting him mess around in her mind again. She deserves better" / "Yes she does" 🥺

Hera! You need to come back! You need to know that your friends care about you!

...and...and I really hope Cutter isn't already doing anything to her to make her betray them. I really hope so.

Cranial reconstruction surgery? Wow, they really did model her after a human brain. Dangerous move.

And Hilbert. Dude. Lack of trust? You. Tried. To. Murder. Everyone. On. Board.

Why would they trust you?

"Tell me you're not still obsessing over your experimental exposure, as long as I maintain it's dormancy, you have nothing to worry about." Oh great. I can't tell you how many times I've read or heard in fiction that as long as X doesn't happen, then Y won't happen, and X is such a low probability it probably isn't even worth worrying about.

Sure, what could possibly go wrong? It's just a teeny tiny itty bitty baby killer virus 🦠🥺 all it wants to do is swim around in Doug's blood stream and not make any trouble I'm sure.

Improve the lives of millions? Uh, Hilbert. What exactly is your definition of improvement?

Yeah...how was command aware of alien life? What made them want to look for that?

"Survival depends on never ever keeping information from Mr. Cutter"

...

Oh dear.

And what does Mr. Cutter want with aliens? Probably to kill them, that seems to be a hobby of his. I guess he got bored of killing members of his own species and animals from his own planet so he decided to set his sights farther afield.

CHANGES IN PROGRAM? But...what about Hera? The Hera that's our friend? ...don't like that noise... REALLY don't like that noise.

HILBERT WHAT DID YOU DO?

HILBERT WHAT DID YOU DO?

HILBERT. YOU IDIOT. YOU BUFFOON. YOU USELESS DUM-DUM.

Wait.

HERA!!!!!!!!

She's alive 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

YIPPIE!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

Hm. Looks likes Hera's back. A bit more sarcastic, but she's back. And yeah, get Hilbert away.

Hera saved them! I knew she could do it! 🥰

Glad alpha victor is deleted. But we should keep the gag on. He could have more code.

Good job captain. Use those direct orders!

Something to write with? Oh boy...what on earth has Hilbert been doing?

“I missed you.” Aw. “ I wanna hang out with you and talk”. Aw. See Hera. They do care. 🥺 Aw he's sleeping. 😴 Goodnight Doug. Hopefully there will be answers in the morning.

Episode 17: Bach to the Future

I like the title. Does this mean the music is coming back?

Yeah Hilbert. Have a good long think about what you've done.

Wait are they...bored? Bored because there is no crisis? But there's like a thousand mysteries on board on the ship.

"It's like someone moved everything off just a tiny bit...so small that you don't even notice anything's off until you try to find something, and then you can't find anything".

Why do I think that's not just a metaphor for Hera's brain?

Star charts? Why do I think those might not be harmless?

Rock climbing and trail hiking are good hobbies. And... yeah a bit odd she has a husband she hasn't seen in over a year and hasn't told any of them about.

HERA 😂. "I though that was a typo".

Mr. Kodeleka? (I think that's the spelling). Foreign correspondent for the globe?

Oh dear. Oh Mincowski. This is so sad. She needs to get home now. 💔

More music! 🎶📻

Aw, Hera. 🥰 I love watching them become better friends.

Why DID they send you up here? Something to keep him occupied? Keep him from being bored? What IS his job? Dying, but what else?

...not all superintelligences are created equal. And who made you randomized? Wait you did psych evals and behavioral tests? That's a lot emotionally for the first six months of your existence. Even if you have adult superintelligence auto-established, you still don't have experience using it. Or practice controlling your emotions. In a lot of ways, you’re still just a kid. A baby even.

Hera...Hera what happened to you? No, Hera you and Doug matter so much. Wait was Hera crying?

Oh yeah the music? Bach...and yeah Doug she has recording capabilities. She could play that back easily. You lost.

Only one star? Glessee 163? 46 light years away from current position? Red dwarf, similar to Wolf359? Interesting...

Did they send a different crew to 163?

555? Oh finally one she doesn't know! "Good communication habits. Be in touch with other crewmembers."

Bet over. Wow. Doug has really been holding that in.

Haha...oh dear. 59 mins 29 sec. Poor Doug. Close but no cigar. Ha, exactly.

Oh dear. Doug has broken. Hilbert ugh why is he still on the line?

Episode 18: Happy To Be Of Assistance

"Why was it that easy to kill everyone! I never thought it would be that easy!"

...uh Hera? Why were you thinking about it at all? Did Cutter do something to you? Are you trying to kill them and like...dragging your...hypothetical feet about it?

Oh good the hidden lab.

...hopefully the spiders are dead...

And hopefully this is where they FINALLY remember who Lovelace is.

Alien Mothership? Advanced scout? Back of head and under tentacles? Is this a joke? Oh it is. I like her.

Lambert? Who is this?

Day 97, early in the mission then. So who is the crew? Dr. Selburg. Dr. Who and Who? Officer Fischer? Okay so Lambert is communications? Reya? Oh so that's their AI. But it looks like she just beeps.

Ha their reactions to Lovelace😂

Yeah they have a lot of crew. Gen0 AI? Hm.

Day 383. Wait WHOSE PROJECTIONS WERE OFF? (Hilbert?)

Day 435. Selburg again. Oh Fischer is dead. Oh dear. Weird that Hilbert isn't mentioned when he had other missions. I wonder what name he was using.

Yeah...Day 944...so they left them? Weird that the timelines don't match up.

Oh wow...when they are in the room Hera can't even tell who she's speaking too. Unless...yeah something's up.

More Lovelace: At night when alone? Noise in the walls? Um...Blessie? Empty man? Anyone?

Another crew member died. Oh dear. It seems Dr. Selburg survived a good while. I hope that's not Hilbert's alias.

Oh. The crew member who died. He had a family too. 🥺.

Cutter needs to be ended.

Lovelace, I don't think Goddard Futuristics ever cared to begin with. Sam Lambert. So that's his name.

Run and hide? Dr. Selburg and Lovelace have a way off? Um...maybe don't tell them that. But I love the attitude.

Eiffel, this seems like a bit of a happy attitude, if they got away, then um... where are they now?

A message for who?

I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT. OH I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT IT'S SELBURG BUT ALSO HILBERT ISN'T IT AND HE TOTALLY MURDERED LOVELACE OH HE IS SO GETTING TOSSED OUT THE AIRLOCK NOW!

Oh I do not have time for one more episode...but... dang it I just saw the title. I have to know. First I'm gonna listen to Goodbye Earl by the Dixie Chicks to pump myself up.

One moment please.

Episode 19: Let's Kill Hilbert

And...we're back! Now it's time to say goodbye to our crazy science friend. Adios Hilbert you will not be missed! 👋 First we toss you out the airlock, and then it's back to earth to finish off Mr. Cutter and company!

Does Hilbert know enough to justify keeping him on board? The real question is: will he share enough?

And listen to Hera. She might have things she's trying to tell you as best she can.

Hera...oh Hera has PTSD. Oh dear Hera.

Um... is she trying to kill them? In comedically obvious ways so that they notice? No wonder she needs Hilbert dead, what if he gave her bad code again? Or maybe she’s just experiencing trauma.

Mincowski! No! She's trying to save you! Please just throw Hilbert out the airlock, I listened to Dixie Chicks for this! I hyped myself up!

Did Hera just say "I'm dead?"

Hera. Hera are you trying to kill Doug? Doug, I trust Hera too, but I do not trust Hilbert! Okay...looks like we're good...

Never mind.

Eiffel. What is happening? Are you on laughing gas? Are you being drugged? Oh dear. Hera what did you do?

Wait. Why is HE losing air? Hera...were you trying to kill Hilbert?

Do machines dream electric sheep? Was that Hilbert? What happened to Hilbert? OH NO.

"You're going to unplug me anyway at least I can do this for the two of you" oh Hera 🥺

I love it. Save our moron!

And everyone's okay.

Doug knows Hera's there. Aw, he's making her feel better. And she's back! 🥰

Wait. What about Hilbert? What about interrogating him about being the other doctor guy? What about killing him? Man, what a bummer.

Oh well. we can always hope. Maybe next time he can finally die. Or at least give us some information.

Episode 20: The Paranoia Game

I really should not be listening to more, but I have an exam tomorrow, and nothing gets me motivated like good old procrastination. Besides, it's not like I had much of a chance on that thing anyway. Oh, I mean, um: Don't listen to me kids, studying is important. But you'll understand if you get to certain level of school at a certain age. You discover that some things that you thought were bad and confusing are actually much more bad and confusing than you could have ever imagined.

Anyway, let's get into it.

Oh good some info on Hilbert's past missions. Hilbert it is ABSOLUTELY relevant. You were experimenting on humans without their consent!

Lovelace was incinerated? Hilbert, for your sake, you better hope that's not true.

Who is listening to this?

Oh dear Hilbert is out of his cage. And YES the handcuffs are necessary. Hilbert has some nerve asking these questions.

"Why am I in cuffs. Seriously all I did was try to kill you. So dramatic🙄"

Irregularity in backup life support? What was that?

Screwdriver is missing. Huh. I wonder where it could have gone...check his pockets.

But then there is the empty man...and Blessie...

Shut up Hilbert. You had someone else help you get the screwdriver. The invisible empty man or someone else. Your promises mean NOTHING Hilbert.

✨ Nooooooooooooo... ✨

Oh you know who took it do you Hilbert? BLAMING THE ROBOT? She has a NAME Hilbert. And if she wanted you dead, she could do that in much worse ways than stealing the screw driver.

"Everything is always Hilbert's fault"

IT KIND OF IS HILBERT WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO GET ON YOUR HIGH "I WOULD NEVER STEAL A SCREW DRIVER HORSE" YOU TRIED TO MURDER EVERYONE.

And do you REALLY think even IF Hera did this, that her whole plan is gonna go like this: "Well we were cool with Hilbert being on board earlier, but GASP! a stolen screwdriver? I can deal with multiple counts of attempted murder and unethical experimentation, but this is simply a bridge too far. TO THE AIRLOCK!"

Yeah. And also. How does she steal the screw driver?

Oh goodness. She is the brains you are...not brains.😂

Hilbert. YOU are the one involved in a conspiracy. You're seeing plots where there aren't any. I guess the old saying is true. The wicked run from no one.

"How do you like that" "I like it just fine"

...no comment.

Oh poor commander. I hope they didn't...

...oh they did.

Good heavens. Have you all forgotten about Blessie? Have you all forgotten about the empty man?

"Mistake Eiffel was going to make"..."Evil plan Hilbert was cooking up" PLEASE 😂😂😂

I love that these are the same voice actor. It makes in 20x funnier too.

The perfect crime? Do you know how crazy you sound?

Poor Mincowski. She needs to go back home and be with her husband. After all this she deserves it.

Hilbert. It involves Large powerful magnet. 😂😂🧲

Yes PLEASE put your clothes back on. Good heavens.

Ah yes. Those sounds. PLEASE question them.

What if we are not the only ones here? FINALLY. Hilbert, I don't like you but at least we're getting to...wait Hera I thought you did detect something moving about earlier.

WHAT IS GOING FOR THE TOOL BOX?

Tentacle with a flower? Of course, Percival B. Eternal, you silly goof!

But uh...why would it want a screw driver? EXACTLY! It is a bad thing! Why has no one been asking more questions about this?

Well hopefully we'll FINALLY get more of dear Blessie. Thank you for listening to my reactions my friends. I'm enjoying season 2, and hope to have more for you soon. Bye-bye.