#but i hope to go in depth into a lot of stuff with him in a v twisted way and im really looking forward to writing it all

[shikai-the-storyteller]

It's taking me ages to write this chapter because every time I look through old VODs / notes to check something, I come across moments like this that make me want to lie down face-first on the floor:

[Context: Pac commits to the idea of taking the Happy Pills so he can create a cure. He's about to write a note to Cellbit to explain his plan.]

Pac: If Cellbit puts himself in this position, it's worse for everyone, because Cellbit is smarter when it comes to coming up with strategic plans, so he is the thinking mind of the Favela Five group, so if he no longer has the mind, he’s not capable of solving this whole problem, you know? But if I put myself in this position to help Cellbit so he can get the cure... You understand? It's better if I'm the bait. Right? I can't- I can't carry things alone guys, I've already lost Mike [...] if I lose Cellbit and I alone had to carry things, I won't be able to. But I think Cellbit can manage better. He is more independent, and he has Roier. He has a husband. I'm trying to– to be lucid here, understand? That's all.

Date: September 11, 2023 || Timestamp: 03:10:10

[underskz]

➪ ‘TIL NEXT TUESDAY

➪ mark lee x cisfem!reader ✩ w.c 8.5k — NSFW ✩ 18+ minors dni —

✰ NON-IDOL AU

pov: you're a camgirl with a secret admirer who's a little (okay maybe a lot) obsessed

note: y'all do not understand the pain,,, the struggle,,,, the trauma that this fic has inflicted upon me <//3 i quite literally started writing it last year on mark lees stupid lil bday and have been typing away at it for so mf long and have had to dig into the deepest filthiest depths of my brain to finally finish this,,,,, anyways welcome to my twisted mind and we can all blame mark lee my greatest enemy,,,, i hate u… anyways pls make note of the warnings !!! btw don’t ask me what website they’re using idk i couldn’t be fcked to think that hard

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, aka smut, obsessive behavior, viscerally lewd comments, uh lying LOL, wolf in sheep’s clothing energy (good church boy mark lee and his hidden demons <3), honestly both reader and mark r freaky (aww they match each others freaks!), readers thinly veiled shame kink, unsafe sex/no condom, barely any prep lol, not beta read bc im a full send girl (sorry for any typos etc LMAO)

There’s clearly something wrong with user ‘66golden_boy99’ and you can’t quite figure it out. Sure, he seems to be just another fan of your work. And maybe his comments tended to be on the imaginative side.

i wanna dick you down til next tuesday

stuff your guts this thursday and stay buried in you thru the weekend

til youre cryin to me about how you can feel my dick in your throat

how pretty would you cry for me?

That little voice in the back of your head whispers (the one that sounds far too much like Donghyuck), an annoying little I told you so, someone was bound to get obsessed. It wasn’t like you never considered or even feared the possibility. 

But these comments, this person, there was something there. You click into a different video, scrolling down to a specific cluster of comments.

i wanna ruin you so fuckin bad

ruin that pussy for anyone else

wanna hear you beg me to stop 

until it turns into begging me for more

sound fun sweetheart?

Every video, every clip, every single little teaser you post; there’s a thread from him. His stupid username right there, ‘66golden_boy99’ and a digital paper trail that ranges from being unforgivably horny to borderline demented and most of the time a combination of both. 

fuck if i could keep you in a little cage…

i’d fuck u every day all day

turn you into my perfect little pet

made just for my cock

don’t you want that too?

You can’t help but let your mouth gape at that one, a cage? Your head spins at the thought, trying (and failing) to not let your imagination wander.

There’s a certain thrill that crawls down your spine, twisting itself deep into your gut and lodging itself there. An ache that you can’t quite sate yourself, barely sated by these comments. 

So yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with user ‘66golden_boy99’ but that could only mean there’s something wrong with you.

“Mark, read this! Isn’t it insane?” Donghyuck all but smacks him in the face with your phone.

“Oh! Um.” He immediately flushes, no doubt flustered by the nature of the comments along with the fact he’s one of your few friends who still gets a little red in the cheeks by your choice of profession. 

Good church boy Mark Lee at your service. Who thankfully plucks your phone from Donghyuck and passes it back to you— most likely to avoid further being subjected to such filth in broad daylight. 

“Don’t bust a tit Hyuck, it’s just some dude living out his freaky fantasy while hiding behind a screen.” You knew it was going to be brought up the moment you saw your friends, but you had hoped that Donghyuck would have the decency to not mention it while seated outside a popular cafe on a busy street.

Jokes on you for thinking he could keep his cool about this. The moment you had sent a screenshot to the group chat Donghyuck had been rearing for a fight, overly scandalized and always righteous whenever he thought his friends were being treated badly.

There was no way in hell you’d tell him those comments piqued your debased interest.

“It’s a little creepy.” Jungwoo settles on, stealing a blueberry off of your parfait. “He doesn’t message when you’re live though.”

“Nope, only comments on clips and videos.” You bite back your disappointment, maintaining an almost clinical tone.

“Does he even watch your streams?” Jungwoo questions as he attempts to swipe a strawberry this time, narrowly thwarted by you whacking his hand with your plastic spoon. 

“What difference does it make? He’s a fucking perv!” Donghyuck snipes.

The answer is yes, he does watch every single one of your streams. Occasionally donates too, yet no messages. No live interactions.

“Hyuck, my whole fanbase are pervs.” You ignore the glare of an elderly woman as she passes by your table. “When did you become such a prude?”

It’s enough of a jab to send the man into a fit, ranting and raving about how he’s perfectly freaky enough and that his boyfriend(s) is (are) so into how weird and kinky he could get. 

“Seriously though, is he scaring you?” Mark whispers, careful to not catch Donghyuck’s attention lest he starts laying into you about your “creepy” admirer again. Mark’s considerate like that.

For a moment you sit with the question, mindlessly spooning around your half eaten parfait. Were you scared? You knew full well you were bound to deal with the occasional creep when you decided to pursue camming as a full-time job after university. 

But you weren’t— aren’t scared, initially you had maybe been a bit unnerved. Yet you hadn’t shared the messages because you wanted your friends to “save” you or anything. More so because you were shocked by the sheer audacity and of course by what was being said.

If Donghyuck wasn’t so busy talking about getting spit roasted much to the horror of Jungwoo, he’d be pestering you for the answer too. And you would’ve lied, told him that you were a little nervous but nothing that’d keep you from carrying on as usual.

Instead you have Mark asking, no trace of judgment behind his thick rimmed glasses, just a curious glint with a healthy dash of concern for a friend.

“He’s not.” Is what ends up coming out. It’s simpler than the whole truth, cleaner as well. 

You couldn’t admit to one of your best friends that it sent a thrill down your spine, to have someone so obsessed they comment utter depravity on every post you make. That you’ve checked to make sure this mystery creep was watching your every stream. And that there’s nothing you’ve ever wanted more than to be craved so deeply, to be ached for, to be someone’s sole obsession. 

“If you do get freaked out or anything, uh understandably so, we’ll figure something out. I’ll beat him up?” Mark offers one of his dorky smiles, and despite his statement inspiring little hope — seriously Mark is way too sweet to ‘beat’ anyone up — you still appreciate the sentiment. Offering him a big spoonful of whipped cream and strawberries for his valiant statement.

“Hey! Why does Mark get fed and I have to fight for a crumb?” Jungwoo cries out only causing you to roll your eyes and spark even more outrage from him.

You're thankful that the rest of the outing goes on without another mention of a certain fan of yours. Though Mark seems to be shooting more indiscernible looks your way than usual, but that’s easy to chalk down as him just projecting his own anxieties onto you.

When you all start to bid farewell Donghyuck wastes a few minutes to preach about the dangers of internet strangers, while Jungwoo goads and teases him until his nagging is turned onto Jungwoo.

Again Mark offers comfort — though you really have no need for it, considering the fact you honestly are enjoying the debased behavior more than you maybe should — and you pretend to appreciate it.

needa fuck you over and over and over

til your pretty lil pussy is gaping open

so i can see the way i paint you up inside

wouldn’t you like that?

Yes, you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, fuck yes.

You had just posted a teaser for your next video, a simple reaction to some random threesome video your subscribers had begged you to watch. 

And as always without fail, only a few minutes after you’ve hit post your phone lights up with notifications from ‘66golden_boy99’. You should hate how much you look forward to it— how you’re practically gagging for it (him).

You remember his first thread of comments, remember the scandal that pumped through your veins as the words registered in your brain. 

The thrill.

well aren’t you a sweet thing

He had started it off so normally.

you look like you dont care for just any kind of fun

you look like u need to be fucked within an inch of your life

thrown around and violated like a stupid little toy

i could do that

It’s the only time he hadn’t ended with a question. The only statement needed to stake his claim, to solidify his place. 

It planted the seed right in your lust ridden mind, the growing need to see more and more. It becomes a sick little ritual, to go looking for his comments just after you tuck yourself into bed under the guise of resting for the day. 

You’re desperate enough to reread old ones, to stare at the same comments from days or even weeks ago. Sometimes he’ll throw you a bone, coming back to leave another thread of comments for you to find. 

wanna fill you up so bad

make you take it over and over and over

til my cum is dripping outta you for days

so that all that’s in your pretty head is the thought of my cock pumping you full

wanna make it happen?

Maybe it’s the way you’ve never replied to them, or even acknowledge them in a stream. It doesn’t deter him from continuing, his perverted dedication proving something to you. Something twisted and delicious and all too tempting.

need you so bad

just need to use you over and over and over and over so fuckin bad

turn you into my own pretty fleshlight to use whenever i please

just wanna use you all up baby

how much can you take?

Thursday streams are one of your three weekly streams, and while it had marginally less viewers therefore profit than your Friday and every other Saturday ones, it was by far your favorite.

The chat is far more relaxed, which means you have a better chance to interact with viewers, to have a more intimate stream.

It means you can instead sit at your desk, dressed in nothing but an oversized white tee, playing with your hair and batting your lashes. While making idle conversation as your viewers dutifully pay you compliments and donate small amounts as a hello.

66golden_boy99: hey there

“Oh? Golden boy? And here I was thinking you weren’t interested enough in having a live convo with me.” You wonder if he waited for this, a Thursday stream with an even lower than usual number of viewers to finally send his first message in chat. Was your little freak shy? Only able to sling his filth when nobody was paying attention?

Too late for that, he was in your sights now. 

66golden_boy99: nah just liked sitting here and watching you too much

“Is that so?” You feign distraction, looking off towards the side as you tap your chin thoughtfully. “But here I am, doing nothing. Isn’t that boring?”

There’s a flood of no’s in the chat, messages ranging from horny to sweet about how some like just chatting and others saying that you should at least take off your shirt.

“My shirt? It’s only been twenty-ish minutes since I’ve started and you all don’t wanna butter me up first? Tell me how pretty I am?” You’re accused of being a tease, which is of course your exact angle. Some of them bite, sending cooing comments about how they’d love to see your shirt off, some going as far as to send in a few dollars. 

$200 from 66golden_boy99

it’s okay sweetheart, show em what’ll be mine

Your jaw drops, because while he had tipped in the past, it was never this much. You can’t help the shiver that itches down your spine, ‘what’ll be mine’ he says, like he already has you in the bag.

“Aww you wanna see me that bad? Everyone say thank you to Golden Boy!” You goad, making a show of hooking your thumbs in the hem of your shirt. Slowly you drag the fabric across your flesh, inch by inch exposing how you truly had nothing under your flimsy excuse for clothing. 

66golden_boy99: and where’s your thank you?

“That’s right, you were so generous after all, I should give you a little treat to show my appreciation.” Again you flutter your lashes. “How do you want me?”

66golden_boy99: spreading your legs like a desperate slut

66golden_boy99: wanna see you fuck your fingers

66golden_boy99: cmon babe show off your perfect pussy and open yourself up for me

“Anything for you.” And maybe you’re a little fucked in the head for how much you mean it. 

You’ve never had a favorite before. Nobody in your chat, comments and so on have ever caught your attention. They’ve never bothered to be so interesting, to be so openly obsessed.

Slowly you let your hands wander, cupping your tits before letting your fingertips dance along your ribcage, inching down, down, down. 

You pathetically think of him, wonder who’s on the other side of the screen. It could be some old man, or some greasy incel, maybe it’s someone you’ve met on the street. It could be anyone, and it sickens you almost as much as it excites you.

Carefully, you plant your feet on the edge of your desk, sliding down a few inches in your chair as you spread nice and wide for the camera. 

“This what you want?” The words jumble in your mouth as your fingers continue to  find their way south. You dig your nails into your thighs, moaning loudly at the bite of them into your tender skin.

Shame was something that had long escaped you in this field of work, only the tastefully faked sense of it ever gracing you these days. But there’s that all too familiar burn crawling back into your chest after almost years of nothing. Scorching away at your insides as your fingers drag along your waiting pussy. 

You’re wet, you’re wet and it’s because of some fucking freak on the internet. Your eyes zero in on the chat, hoping to catch a comment from him.

66golden_boy99: fucking perfect for me always so good

It’s all you need to keep going, to let wanton moans tumble out left and right as your back arches into your own touch.

The sense of shame doesn’t diminish, doesn’t fade as you tease your clit and pump your fingers pitifully into your sopping cunt, loudly bemoaning the fact you didn’t grab a toy. 

66golden_boy99: you’ll cum just like this baby, no toys, just your fingers and wishing it was me instead

“Nnn- please.” It’s whiner than you’ve ever heard yourself, because goddammit you are wishing it was him. Old man be damned he had a wicked way of speaking, of sneaking into the dark recesses of your mind and ripping you open. Exposing a side of you that you’d long since buried, a side of you craving to be devoured wholly.

Pleasure snakes through your body, dropping down into your belly as you cum with a whimper. You make a show of bringing your fingers to your lips, tongue flicking out to taste yourself, that sick part of you hoping it makes him want you more. 

You slump against your chair, mindlessly answering chats as you fix yourself into a more comfortable position. You don’t bother looking for your shirt, letting your viewers enjoy watching your chest rise and fall in panting breaths, admire the way the sweat gleams on your skin.

You hope his eyes are glued to his screen. You hope you’re driving him absolutely insane.

“I fear I might be tapped out for the night, but don’t worry there’s always Sunday.” You manage to get out a real sentence, your brain still a little mushy from the post-orgasm haze. “Sweet dreams everyone!” 

You take a moment to let the chat fill with well wishes, a few more donations and scan for a message from one user in particular.  

66golden_boy99: good night sweet thing, dream of me

And oh, you just might. 

Ending streams were nothing special, just a click of a button and your privacy was all yours again. Leaving you with a plethora of thoughts, a tiny remnant of that formerly elusive shame and a craving for something or more accurately someone. 

Send a friend request to 66golden_boy99?

What did you have to lose? What did you have to gain? 

There’s a little angel on your shoulder in the shape of Donghyuck, your ever annoying moral compass, telling you to go shower and to never feed into this anonymous man’s delusions again.

While the little devil on your shoulder shaped like Yuta does nothing, sits there and smirks at you knowing full well you’ll choose his route. 

You always do. 

Sorry Hyuck.

Friend request sent!

Three days go by, no comments, no messages on stream, nothing. Absolute silence.

You can’t help yourself but watch each excruciating second tick by, waiting for something, anything from him. Three whole days of obsessively checking your phone, every social media tied to your occupation and nothing.

It’s like he up and fucking forgot about you. And maybe three days seems too short of a timeline to be losing it, but this is a man who has been all over your account — and notifications — for months.

And he gets scared off by a friend request. 

God, you should’ve known better than to trust Yuta, even if he was just a figment of your imagination at that moment. Though the real Yuta would’ve said the same thing anyway, therefore still making this whole ordeal his fault.

But as fun as blaming your friend and obsessing over whether your twisted little admirer would accept your request, let alone give you something to work with nowadays. It was driving you up the fucking wall. 

You need a distraction, and you need it badly.

Your usual and immediate reaction to having nothing to do and needing attention would be to ask Donghyuck to go out and do something stupid, but the lucky bastard was on vacation with his boyfriend(s?) probably getting fucked into the new year.

So you’re left to consider your options but Jungwoo is definitely still at work and Yuta just left to visit his family. And your other friends lived too far.

That only left you with Mark. God, you need more friends in close proximity. Not because you don’t like Mark, you adore the man if anything and still consider him one of your best friends. It's just that despite all the years of friendship the two of you just haven’t figured out how to quite mesh conversationally like the others. 

You need more spark, conviction. Mark Lee talks like a wet noodle came to life and decided to use ‘yo’, ‘dude’ and ‘woah’ on a permanent rotation. 

At least he’s a great listener.

And since he’s one of your closest friends nonetheless, he would have no problem with you coming over to eat his snacks and lounge on his couch while he works from home. 

So you shoot him a text.

TO: marky markmarkly sparkly can i cum over ;P 

FROM: marky markHaha sure dude! I told you stop spelling it like that > < 

TO: marky markprude be there in 10 want coffee ?

FROM: marky markSure! Caramel latte please :3 

He even texts like a good and innocent church boy. But he’s definitely had girlfriends, and that one boyfriend, so there’s no way he’s a virgin. Is it possible to be a blushing virgin in spirit and at heart?

“Hey beautiful, what can I get ya?” The barista’s stare is nothing short of sleazy, not even bothering to make eye contact as he tries to magically see through your clothing. 

“I’ll take a caramel latte, lemme double check what my boyfriend wanted, hmm just a regular coffee.” And okay it’s a little demeaning to Mark to switch your coffee orders in front of this greaseball. 

The boyfriend comment works well enough, if you take the guy opting to just stare at your ass as you walk out the door instead of bullying you for your number a win.

Thankfully Mark's apartment is just around the corner, and somehow you manage to key in the code not once but twice despite carrying two drinks.

“Marky! Coffee!” Immediately he comes tumbling down the hallway, eyes wide with confusion. His hair is sticking up in different directions, his glasses crooked and half-hanging off his face. His sweat stained white tee, and low hanging gray sweats only the cherry atop the homebody trainwreck sundae of a man before you.

“Hey, yo, shit! Uh dude!” He stops a few steps in front of you, scratching his head sheepishly. “I thought…you would take longer.”

“Do I look like Jungwoo? Or worse, Yuta?” You feign offense with a dramatic gasp. 

“Nah! Ha…ha, um come on in, it’s a fuckin’ mess but like you know, ‘m swamped with work and…”

You hand him his latte and push past him, barely batting an eye at the nightmarish state of his apartment. There’s mountains of paperwork and books stacked along the walls, empty food boxes, bags and wrappers scattered across the floor (along with any other available surface) and you’re trying desperately to not gag at the state of his kitchen.

“Johnny would clean?” You muse as you kick aside an empty pasta box. 

“Johnny would clean.” He sighs. Johnny, being Mark’s roommate, along with (one of) Donghyuck’s boyfriend(s???) is currently on vacation. On top of that, from what you've heard, he’s barely been at the apartment at all the past few months. Definitely too busy catering to every single one of Hyuck’s whims and dramatics.

“I could help?”

“Woah! I couldn’t ask you that, I made this mess on my own. I’ll clean it er.. eventually.” He gestures loosely.

“Mark Lee.” You muster up your best deadpan tone. “I’m so bored I’m gonna chew my own hand off, please let me help you clean your awfully disgusting apartment.” 

“That bad?” He snorts.

“I think that pile of dust moved on it’s own.” At least you’re hoping it’s a pile of dust and not some undiscovered rodent that thrives in the apartments of bachelors with piss poor cleaning habits.

“…I think you’re right. Hey um, lemme just shower and change, I think I’m just as gross as this place. We can clean together. So just…” He shoves aside the pile of laundry inhabiting the couch just enough to give you a place to sit. “Sit for a second?”

The poor guy looks like he’s on the brink of a meltdown, and if you didn’t know Mark as well as you do you would’ve called an ambulance. But he just always has that air around him, exhausted and overworked— but always smiling through it.

“I’m in no rush.” You pat his arm before taking a seat in the space he so generously carved out for you. The second Mark walks off to the bathroom you make yourself nice and comfortable, switching on the TV, straightening out some of the magazines and assorted papers on the coffee table. 

Mindlessly you even start folding some of the laundry next to you. The thought of taking pictures and sending them to Donghyuck so he could show Johnny just how far his roomie has fallen in his absence promptly interrupts your side task.

But to your dismay you find your phone is barely holding on by a few measly percentages. Looking around the living room you know there’s definitely no hope in trying to find a charger on your own. So instead you head off towards the bathroom, following the sound of the shower pouring down.

“Mark!” You knock harshly, hoping he can hear you okay. 

“Yeah?” His voice comes through clear, sounding only a little startled by your sudden presence.  

“Need to charge my phone!” 

There’s a moment of pause and you can only assume it’s because his room is so hellish he can’t even remember where he put the thing.

“By my bed!”

“Thanks!”

His room is actually better than the living room and kitchen, not by much, but still better. You navigate around the clothes and books strewn about the floor. Giggling at his wastebasket full of balled up tissues and a used up bottle of lotion, you definitely couldn’t wait to tell Donghyuck when he gets back. 

Making fun of Mark was an art, a beloved pastime of your friend group. And he always took it like a champ.

You plop down on his unmade bed, looking around for his charger. It’s half under the bed when you spot it, tugging the cord only for there to be a bit of resistance. Carefully you lower yourself to the floor, yanking at the charger and forcing Mark’s IPad to come flying at you.

“Shit!” It lands next to you face down on the hardwood and you pray to whatever gods that you haven’t cracked it. Slowly you pick it up, carefully flipping it over as you prepare yourself for the damage.

“Oh, my god.”

Because it’s not cracked, it’s not even locked, it’s still open to what Mark had been watching last to be exact.

One of your streams, one of your streams with you bent over one of your pillows, both holes stuffed with toys in the perfect position for the camera to see everything. It’s not even a new video, you haven’t done anything like that in months. 

There’s a blur in your vision as you shoot up, lightheaded from standing up straight so suddenly. A scorching heat begins to burn in your gut, creeping through your veins. 

You can still hear the shower going, and you know it must be wrong, to go through his private device like this but…it’s you. He’s been watching you, one of your most bible-thumping, prude-built friends who can barely look you in the eyes and blushes whenever you or your friends make dirty jokes, has been watching your debaucherous streams and has never said a word. 

Sure, Yuta and Jungwoo have confessed to watching more than once and Donghyuck is a fucking mod for your streams. It never bothered you if your friends watched, it wouldn’t bother you now.

But this is…this is different. He kept his viewership a secret, and you weren’t sure what to make of it. Was he too embarrassed to say? Was he afraid it’d ruin your friendship?

You close out the video, looking through his watch history which consists solely of your videos, looking at who he follows — you, only you, and you can’t tell if that’s a good thing yet — and now the used tissues in his trash bin don’t feel so funny anymore. 

“Oh.” You mutter lamely as you open up his comment history. Fucking oh. 

66golden_boy99: wanna fuck you with my tongue til youre squirting all over my face

And your world collapses, punctuated by the sound of the shower turning off— yet that’s lost on your ears. You can’t hear anything but the furious pound of your heart trying to dismantle your ribcage, your blood rushing through your veins and sloshing around your head. 

Mark Lee, sweet, kind and innocent. Mark Lee, who stutters just talking about who he likes. Mark Lee, the resident saint of the group.

Is him. 

The man who’s been peddling filth into your mind, who’s been haunting you every time you decide to start your stream or post a video, skulking around every comment section with your name on it. 

Is Mark fucking Lee.

“Heya! Did ya find…it.” It’s cinematic honestly, the way his stride slows as his eyes frantically flicker back and forth between you and the IPad. “Y-Y-You!”

It’s instantaneous, his face turning a brilliant crimson as he trips over himself to grab the tablet and throw it haphazardly to the side.

His chest is heaving, panic creasing his features as you look him over. He kept the same color scheme, you think emptily, white tank top and gray basketball shorts. It does nothing for your brain as you stare at him mouth agape.

“I c-can explain?” He has the audacity to squeak, to look ashamed even. He’s trying to hide behind his bangs as they fall over his eyes, trying to look so innocent despite his filthy secret coming to light.  

“Why didn’t you accept my friend request?” It’s probably not what you should open with, and Mark’s jaw simply hanging open at the question might be a testament to that.

“…What?” His croaks, voice hoarse.

“You didn’t accept it, why? And where have you been, it’s been three whole days? I’ve been fucking waiting for—”

“You’re not mad?” His voice is still uneven, and even a pitch higher. 

“Mad? Mad? I’m pissed, you, you idiot!” And you are. Probably. Your mind so fucked from trying to comprehend this newfound piece of info you don’t even know where to begin with how you’re feeling. So mad must be the best place to start. 

“For months I’ve been wondering who had the fucking balls to send these freaky borderline insane comments.” He flinches. “Wondering just who the hell was making me feel like, like…that.”

“I—”

“And it was you! Right under my nose, looking at me with those stupid round eyes and big glasses a-and you just pretended like you knew nothing? …I got off to you on stream?” You hate the way your voice sounds so high in your ears, teetering on the edge of full blown shrieking.

“Please, I’m sor…”

“When Hyuck showed those comments were you even ashamed?” You hiss.

He’s blubbering now, eyes pinned somewhere to the ground; half cooked sentences or maybe excuses scattering about the floor with the rest of his mess. It’s all lost on your ears, a million different thoughts in your head drowning it all out. 

His hands raise as if admitting defeat, even beginning to back away in a pitiful attempt at escaping but like hell you’ll let the fool get away from you now. 

“Goddammit, Mark Lee, look at me!” And he does, his mouth snapping shut and eyes focusing on you. His stupid glasses are nowhere to be seen, giving you an unfiltered front row view of how his pupils are blown wide. “Did you mean it?” 

“Mean…what?” You could kill him, you really could because how after all these months of sending you towards the edge with the crudest, filthiest words he can barely say a proper sentence standing before you.

“Any of it! All of it, was it all just talk?” You must’ve hit a nerve. He’s silent again, eyes narrowing for a moment at the accusation. But it slips away, a fickle persona he shoves down. 

His hands lower to his sides.

“...What do you want?” His voice is more even, eyebrows knitting together. 

You know what he’s asking — he was obvious like that, his heart always worn so proudly on his sleeve — because even now with his disgusting secret out in the open between the two of you. He has the audacity to try to take the gentlemanly route of getting you to explicitly state what you want from him, if you want him. 

When all you’ve been waiting for was for him to take.

“What do I want, huh? Let me tell you what I think first.” You know this will definitely make or break what happens next, and maybe even your friendship. But you’re sick of his games, of dancing around whatever the hell was going on between the two of you. “I think you’re all bark and no fucking bite, I think you hide behind a screen because you’re a coward and you probably couldn’t fuck your way out of a wet paper bag.”

His eyes narrow once more.

“You hide behind your good little god fearing boy next door persona when you’re a freak who likes watching one of his best friends get off on camera!” 

He takes a step closer.

“I think you’re filthy and depraved, a repressed weirdo with disgusting kinks. A borderline incel!”

And another step.

“I bet the second you actually got inside of me you’d cum and cry yourself to sleep in a matter of seconds.” His expression darkens at that, and now you’re starting to think that you should stop. 

But where’s the fun in that?

“You couldn’t handle even half the shit you said online, you cowardly little prude, you tiny dicked—”

You don’t realize his hands are on you until you're backed against the wall, one tightly gripping your hip while the other lands on your chest keeping you firmly in place.

“You never shut up. Even in your streams and videos you're constantly yammering on, whimpering and whining and begging.” His voice is low, buzzing around your ears and in your head. You look down at the tent forming in his shorts, mouth drying and watering simultaneously.  

“That for me?” Your tongue feels thick as you look up at him through your lashes.

The hand on your chest inches up, until his palm settles against your throat and you're left wondering if he’ll indulge you by tightening his fingers. Even just a little.

“Even now, can’t shut the fuck up.” He moves in closer, until his hardened cock is against your thigh and he’s forcing his knee between yours. “I asked what you wanted, not for you to insult me.”

“You-”

“So I’ll tell you what I want.” And you feel so wildly out of your depth, there’s a cognitive dissonance you can’t quite escape. Good church boy Mark means wholesome activities, ice cream in the park, farmer’s markets and, and–  

“And then you’re gonna try again for me.” 

“M-Me?” It comes out lamely. Is this really Mark Lee? You think belatedly. Looking at you like he wants to tear you apart inch by inch with nothing but his teeth and tongue.

“I want you on my tongue, on my cock, want you begging for me to stop but it’s all just a filthy fucking lie. I want you to want me to ruin you, this, us.” His voice is raspier, laced with a desperation and craving you’ve never heard before and damn do you need to hear more, so much more.

“So try again. Tell me what you want.” And you can see it, that plea in his eyes for you to just say it. To know you want this as badly as he does, the promise, the threat of him finally letting go looming over the two of you.

“Want.” You grab him by the face, pressing your nose against his and staring into the black depths of his pupils. “Want good boy Mark Lee to die right before my eyes, wan’ you to eat me ‘til nothin’ is left.”

It’s slurred, you’re delirious, so drunk off the way he’s already hard off of you screaming at him (or maybe it was getting caught), at the way he’s demanding you to express your want for him when you’d rather just be on your knees.

But the thing is you always have wanted, craved. That underlying itch to see one of your best friends let loose, the borderline wanting (what you thought was) a random stranger to break into your apartment and do filthy, unmentionable things to you. When you flipped over that IPad thinking you broke it to find yourself being the object of his debauched desire, when you saw his username on the site. 

You ached.

It’s stupid and toeing the line of embarrassing with how badly you want, no, need him, how turned on by the fact he doesn’t even know which person to be in front of you. Doesn’t quite know how to be both.

“Let him die.” Is all he can say, having the audacity to take advantage of your stupor to kiss you. To push you back up against the wall and slot his lips against yours, pulling back just to dive back in before you could truly feel his absence. Over and over each one messier, hotter than the last as a debaucherous hunger flows between the two of you.

“You don’t get it.” He mumbles, pressing himself firmly against you, sweat starting to prickle against your skin. “When y-you started camming I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

And suddenly you could see it, vividly. Just behind your eyelids was Mark hunched over in his bed, one of your streams or videos playing in the background as he furiously chased his release. Only to be left wallowing in the shame of jerking it with cheap lotion to you, forced to clean himself off with even cheaper tissues and spending the rest of his night completely alone.

“Your perfect fucking pussy, for everyone to see…when I’ve been waiting.” He rasps, hands finding their way back onto your body. “Couldn’t stand it, couldn’t fuckin’ stand it.”

“Mm, Ma-ark…” Without hesitation he twists his head, allowing himself to sink his teeth at the base of your throat. Pulling away to focus another dark look at you, that heady mixture of unmitigated want and wicked promises swirling in his eyes.

“S’All I could think about, even with our friends.” He noses along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe as his breathing turns ragged. “Wanted to haul you onto the table and fuck you ‘til your head went dumb, ‘til all was left was you squealing like a fuckin’ whore while they all watched.”

There’s a cartoon halo of stars around your head, surely there is, each word from his mouth adding another to the ditzy constellation circling your brain. This is him, this is Mark ‘Golden Boy’ Lee and his once hidden (and so deliciously unhinged) silver tongue. 

“Pl-Please, oh fu— please.” His lips are back to working against your throat, and just as you try to reach up and grab at him, to try and sway him into relieving some of the tension building in the air. 

He steps back, yanking at your arm.

Yet he doesn’t give you a chance to simply fall, or even react. Instead he uses your off-kilter balance to push you onto your knees, thankful that he’s a sloppy loser when you land on a pile of clothes.

“This.” He doesn’t bother being shy about tugging his shorts and boxers off in one fluid motion. “This is how I want you.”

He pauses, as if to let you admire the view and you’re not nearly above doing so as your eyes roam so shamelessly. 

Of course he’s cut, with neatly trimmed hair adorning his groin. And though he's just above average in length, he definitely makes up in girth. You think hazily that calling him tiny dicked was definitely a lie.

Your mouth waters.

He lets out a low chuckle of all things, surely laughing at the way your eyes have widened. And maybe you did let your tongue swipe over your lips in anticipation.

“Go ahead, before I make it hurt.” His words are delayed, understanding creeping in slowly; impaired by having long let that fog of desperation cloud your mind. 

You move before you can think, nosing along the side of his cock, pressing a kiss to a cute little mole that you hope to revisit at a later date. But for now you’re flattening your tongue against the base of his shaft and dragging it up his length at a frustrating rate.

He’s heavy on your tongue, thick and heavy and so so hot, and fuck he tastes good or maybe you’re just already addicted. Doomed from the start. 

There’s a war raging in your mind, whether to try your hardest to please him with your mouth, all too tempted to hear the pretty, desperate sounds he’ll make and maybe it’ll earn you a bit of praise. Or to tease until he’s pissed off enough to throw any regard for you and your (throat’s) wellbeing out the window.

The latter is far more appealing.

Coyly you look up at him again through your lashes once more, bringing your tongue to tease at the tip of his cock, licking off a bead of precum forming.

“Are you tryin’ to blow me or piss me off?” Ah, so he has you all figured out.

“Haven’t decided.” You reply properly by taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before sinking further down and ignoring the slightly uncomfortable stretch of your lips. You could get used to this.

Languidly you try to mind your teeth as you sink further down, your jaw aching at the unprecedented stretch. Shallowly you bob your head, barely giving anything as you look up to meet his burning gaze.

“Enough.” He groans, clearly sick of the teasing as his hand comes around to hook his fingers around the back of your head.  

It’s enough of a warning as your hands come up to grip at his bare thighs, whimpering at the first tentative thrust. Unable to escape, knees aching and you can’t help but wonder how damp your panties will be by the time you get them off.

He’s careful at first, not to be too rough in his movements, trying to be considerate of your comfort. It’s ridiculous, and you let him know as much by stabbing your nails into his thighs only forcing him to accidentally bottom out. 

Tears well in your eyes as you choke, gagging around the sinfully thick intrusion into your throat.

“Woah! Fuck, I’m sor-”

He starts to pull away, and desperately you chase after him. But the fucker pulls out, grabbing you by the cheeks to look you in the eyes. 

“Do I have to start calling you names again?” Your voice is already wrecked, but not nearly enough, it could be worse, so much worse. If he would just fully let go. “Or are you just scared?”

He blinks at you, once, twice, those stupidly big eyes of his narrowing into something dangerous. 

“Two taps if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be.” You barely finish the sentence as he grabs you on either side of your head with both hands, pressing the leaking head of his cock against the seam of your lips, precum smearing across. You barely open your mouth before he’s shoving his entire cock down your throat again. 

You can see him, blurred by the tears stuck to your lashes, watching you with such reverence as you pitifully try to relax, still unable to avoid gagging and choking. Yet this time he offers no reprieve, keeps you firmly in place as tears stream down your face and your nails continue to dig into his thighs.

“T-That’s it, choke.” The break in his voice sends something hot through your chest, snaking through the rest of your body and creeping into your veins. How embarrassed would you really be if you came just from having your throat fucked? 

“Where are you?” Your wandering thoughts immediately cease, drawn back in by his fingers dancing along your cheekbone before settling at the back of your head.

He doesn’t even have the decency to let you catch your breath after pulling your attention, shallow thrusts turning reckless as he fucks your face with little regard for you— it’s everything you’ve every wanted from him.

It sends another surge of heat down into your belly, pooling between your thighs and now you’re wondering if your poor panties will even be salvageable after this. 

“Fuck that’s it, so fuckin’ good for me.” He bites his lip, and a part of you wishes you could be tugging on it too with your teeth. 

Use me, use me, use me. The thought fills your mind, leaving room for nothing else but Mark and his cock and your jaw and throat struggling to keep up. 

Frantically you tap on his calf, his response instantaneous.

“You good?” He pulls out again, swiping his thumb along your bottom lip to wipe away a mess of spit and precum.

“Need you,” and you could care less how your voice shakes and rasps, “need you in me so bad. Fuck me.” 

Your fingers dig into his thighs as you muster up the best pitiful look possible, silently begging for more. 

“C-Condom, need, condom.” He huffs, looking around his room frantically.

“Like hell, what happened to painting my insides huh?” Shakily you stand up, managing to push him towards the bed which he doesn’t even bother resisting. “Thought you wanted your cum dripping from my pussy for days.”

And he fucking growls, the sound so wildly animalistic you can barely believe it came from him.

“That what you want? You wanna feel me for days?” You’re on your back in a matter of seconds, his forearms landing on either side of your head to cage you in. He’s staring you down with an uncharacteristic intensity; a predator sizing up his prey.

“Ruin me for anybody else.” It comes out broken, desperation seeping from each word. How much more do you need to bend before he finally breaks?

He’s back on you, a barrage of teeth and tongue assaulting your flesh as his hands leave no part of you untouched, kneading and feeling. Just as you try to bring your own shirt over your head he pushes away your hands, allowing him to take over stripping you bare. 

Each caress of his fingers leaves a trail of fire, almost too hot to bear.  

“Please Marky, please.” It comes out high and whiny and so very needy. “Touch me more.” 

“I’ll give you what you want, just lemme…fuck lemme look at you.” He catches your wrists just as you try to bring your hands up to cover your face, pinning your arms against your sides as his eye shamelessly trace over your figure. There’s a glint of something hungry, swirled with something akin to adoration.

“Y-You like m-me, you’re obsessed.” You

“Yeah, I really fucking am.” He’s grinning, all teeth with a hint of gums that makes your heart somehow pound even harder and you know you’re well and truly fucked. “Like you s’much gonna keep you on my cock forever.” 

He lets go of your hands, grabbing at your thighs to spread them apart, callused fingers dragging up until he’s almost carelessly pressing a finger into you.

“Fuck, you can… o-oh keep me!” You whimper as he bullies one, then two more fingers into your throbbing cunt— there’s a determination bordering on desperation creasing his brow in order to prep you as quickly as possible. 

“Next time, I’ll spend fuckin’ hours doin’ this.” You whine as he drags his fingers out of you.

His hands hook under your thighs, pressing up and up until he can hook your legs over his shoulders and he’s pressing the blunt head of his cock against your hole. There’s a slight sting as he pushes in, the stretch unfamiliar and despite how wet you are some lube would’ve helped. 

But you well and truly could care less.

“I don’t care who sees this, you, I’m the only one who gets to touch, the only one who gets to fuck you like this.” He rasps, bottoming out in one harsh thrust and punching the air out of your lungs.

He’s kind enough to let you catch your breath, indulging you with a few soft kisses along your jaw and nipping at your bottom lip. But it doesn’t last long, following a sloppy kiss with a tentative grind of his hips, then a soft thrust. 

Those desperate whines you usually play up for your streams easily escaping your lips as he builds a steady rhythm. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Mark.” It’s perfect, every single thrust is perfect, the way you're folded in half, the feeling of his fingers digging into you, the strain of toned muscles under flushed skin; so fucking perfect. “Only you.”

And you mean it, fully, wholeheartedly without any hesitation. Only Mark, if that’s what he wants then you want it too, whatever Mark wants he can have.

“M’Close, fuck, I’m so close.” You whimper, raking your fingers through his still damp hair.

“Already?” It spears through your chest, harsh and burning and tears down your belly. 

There’s a split second of perfect silence interrupting the sound of skin slapping against skin, a ringing in your ears followed by the crash of your heart into your ribcage. 

Pleasure slices down your spine, rippling through your body in crashing waves and leaving your head spinning.

He fucks you through the high, any chance of a coherent thought spilling right out of your ears, his name garbled and strained as it forces it’s way past your lips. 

He slows, as if he’s about to waste both your time and do something stupid like pull out and finish on your stomach. And like hell you’re letting that happen, grabbing at his head with both hands and smashing your lips together, pulling away just enough to stare into blown pupils.

“Cum inside me, you bitch!” His teeth come down on your bottom lip, the bite of iron and tang of sweat and spit swirling together on your tongue dizzying, intoxicating. He slams back into you with a force you didn’t know he had, swallowing down a broken moan from his lips as he spills into you. 

“I’m still gonna stream.”  The two of you have settled on his now made bed, tucked under the covers. You had no problem letting Mark dress you in a clean tee and boxers, watching sleepily from his desk chair as he made his bed before depositing you in it.

“I’ll still watch.” He hums. 

“And comment?” It brings up the matter from earlier, the one you never got an answer to. “Why didn’t you?”

“I…I didn’t know what to do. Uh, it was one thing, hiding, but then I thought you…didn’t…”

“Didn’t?” You raise your head, trying to level your gaze to his. 

“Didn’t like m- it, the comments, those messages in chat, all of it. Thought you were just tryin’ to message me to stop. And then I got scared you somehow knew it was…me.” He has that sheepish look smearing his features, a hand coming up to scratch at his nape. 

You stare at him silently, watching as his eyes bounce around your face searching for some hint of what you could possibly be thinking.

“Look where that got us, I can’t even feel my legs, oh my god you have to fuck me on stream, please!”

“H-Huh? Live? Yo I can’t just-”

“Think about it, Marky.” Aching hips and sore muscles be damned, you somehow manage to climb into his lap and straddle his thighs. “Fucking me, on camera, for everyone to see just what you do to me. I’d be so good for you.”

You can see it, what little resolve he had starting to crumble, just a little more.

“Don’t you want that?” It’s his words and he knows it, starting to see the monster he’s created. You run your fingers along his jaw, settling one hand on his shoulder while the other comes up to muss up fluffy brown locks. “Stretching me on your fat cock for my pitiful little viewers to see, wishing it was them driving me insane.”

“Baby…” The pet name from his lips is instantly addicting, and you need so much more of it.

“Please.” And now you’re not sure what you’re begging for, your body screams for you to stop, to not roll your hips against his because it’s far too soon to be fucked into the mattress again.

“If, if you don’t stop doing that.” He groans. “You’re not gonna be able to stream tomorrow.” 

You blink. 

“Wow you really are my biggest fan.”

“Huh?”

“Got my schedule memorized and everything, does that mean we could do it tomorrow? You’ll fuck me on stream tomorrow?”

“I’ll think about it.” 

“Seriously I–”

“Actually, cancel it.” He’s hooking his hands under your thighs, drawing you closer. “Don’t look at me like that, I said cancel it.”  

“Mm, I don’t know if I can go again yet.” But there’s no conviction behind your words.

“You’re fine, I’ll do all the work.” You’re fine he says, it sends a thrill up your spine right into your brain, reworking the entire chemistry in there. It had been there in the back of your mind, slipping in somewhere between finding out his secret and that first kiss. 

You’re absolutely hooked, simply addicted, to Mark Lee. 

“Okay.” You grin at him.

[luveline]

could you write bau!reader x aaron, reader is pregnant and baby is so restless and kicking a lot as reader is at her desk working and aaron is the only one who can calm baby down

ty for requesting <3 pregnant!reader, 1k

“Woh,” you mumble, almost clipping your head on your desk as you lean forward. “Oh, my gosh.” 

“What’s wrong, mama?” 

You wave your free hand weakly at Derek, the other to your bump. “Nothing’s wrong, handsome.” 

Derek laughs warmly and stands from his chair. “I don’t believe you. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Or I’ll go get the big man and he can force it out of you himself.” 

Hotch’s never forced anything out of you, but he has kissed a confession from you before. He could do it again easily. 

You right yourself as the baby’s rampant kicking makes you feel as though you’ll pee your pants. “Derek, there’s some crazy stuff happening inside of me right now.” 

He smiles at you fondly. “I bet there is.” 

“She’s kicking the shit out of me.” Sitting up, your back twinges and relaxes, the weight of your baby bump spreading out. You’re very pregnant and the baby is extremely active. She kicks pretty much 24/7 these last few days, and it’s driving you crazy. “Do you wanna feel?” 

Derek presents his hand for feeling. You stand up, and Derek lays a hand across your bump. You don’t have to move it anywhere: the second he touches you, he can no doubt feel the baby’s aggressiveness. She’s aiming her little feet almost like she knows where your most fragile organs are. 

One rough kick has Derek taking back his hand. “She’s beating you up, mama.” 

“She hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Spencer says, twirling in his chair to give one of his innocuous tidbits of information, “babies kick for all sorts of reasons. They kick when they’re hungry, or after you’ve just eaten because of the extra glucose shared via the placenta. Sometimes they kick because they can feel sensation through your skin.” 

Spencer stands up. You raise your brows. “You wanna feel?” you ask. 

He grins and offers his hand. You take it and place it against the baby’s restless feet, smiling at Spencer’s smile, a little enchanted by how fascinated he seems. At Spencer’s touch, she starts to kick quickly like she had been with Derek, and eventually you have to move his hand in the hopes she’ll stop. She slows, but the occasional stretch pokes at your stomach. You can see the distension of her limb even through your shirt. 

“She’s really going for it today,” you say. “Maybe I had too much brown sugar in my oatmeal.” 

“You know babies can tell the difference between hands?” Spencer asks. 

“I sort of guessed,” you say distractedly, rubbing at the baby’s kicking with the crest of your palm. “She doesn’t act like this with Hotch.” 

“Good to know he has that effect on everyone,” Derek says with a laugh. 

“I might go and ask him to make her stop. I’m gonna need a change of clothes if she doesn’t.” 

Derek laughs again, full-bellied, his arm wrapping around your shoulders in a pitying hug. “Aw, sweetheart, you’ll be okay. Just two more months and this will all be over.” 

“Well, you never know. The longest overdue pregnancy in human history was almost a hundred days, that’s more than an extra three months.” 

“Spencer!” you say, not truly shouting, but your volume escaping you as the horror of a year long pregnancy sinks in. “Don’t jinx me.” 

Your loud voice, or perhaps Derek’s roaring laughter, draws the attention of JJ and Hotch, who appear from the depths of his office with matching curious expressions. JJ begins down the steps to the bullpen, while Hotch stays at the balcony waiting for an explanation. 

“Baby Hotchner’s giving it large,” Derek says, rubbing your upper arm. 

“She won’t stop,” you complain, relieved to see your stern husband. “Can you come and set her straight?” 

You aren’t always so quick to complain to him, but this is too much. It feels as though she’s about to start doing spin kinks against your spine —it’s honestly the most she’s ever moved. When you were just a few weeks pregnant you’d longed for her to wriggle and show you a sign that she could feel you, but now you’d appreciate a few minutes of calm. 

Hotch follows JJ down obligingly, and he, surrounded by your curious coworkers and colleagues, without any hesitation (but certainly some care), slips his hand under your blouse to feel at his baby’s sharp kicking. He presses against what might be a foot for a few moments, his smile barely hidden, his palm warm. 

“She really is giving it large,” he says, the deep softness of his voice like a signal. 

The baby’s kicks soften, until, barely ten seconds later, they stop. Your spine ceases vibrating, and you can finally stand there without having to press your thighs together. 

“Thank you,” you say, holding Hotch’s elbow. He’s well and truly saved you. 

He rubs your stomach with his thumb. His dark eyes stay set on your bump. “You’re welcome.” 

“I guess baby just missed her dad,” JJ says. 

You look at Spencer. He doesn’t say anything. “No correction?” you ask. 

“No,” he says, pouting that you’d ask. “Either she missed the sound of his voice, or your reaction to seeing him has calmed her down. That’s not a big difference.” 

“It’s both, I think,” you say, paused by a big yawn. 

“Are you tired?” Hotch asks. 

“Urgently.” You let yourself sag forward toward him, gesturing for Spencer, Derek and JJ to look away. “Thanks for your help, boys, but I need something no one else can give me.” You collapse into Hotch’s chest for a hug. 

The bump is very much in the way, but he reacts accordingly, ushering your chest to his, cheek pressed gently to your forehead. “She’s exhausted you,” he teases under his breath. 

“She really has.” 

“I love how she settles with me,” he says, rubbing your back for a long, slow handful of seconds, before he pulls away enough to grin at you. “But I suppose she gets that from her mother.” 

“You’re very calming.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Vanilla Tobacco

summary: would you ever be enough for joaquin?

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MATURE/MINORS DNI, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f!receiving), internal angst, yearning, insecure!reader, fluff, love confessions

wc: 3,115

an: this fic idea came to me while i was listening to vanilla tobacco by eloise 🫶🏾

danny ramirez characters masterlist

You and Joaquin spend more time together than you expected to, but that feeling creeps in when the first streams of light peak through his curtains.

That feeling is exactly what you’d been worried about when you and Joaquin first started.

Since the beginning, you felt like Joaquin was out of your league. Not because you weren’t in one of your own— you had plenty to offer—but because you’re just a civilian. It feels silly when you really think about it, but you don’t have any special abilities, no training, and you certainly aren’t a mechanical or quantum genius.

You’re just a person. A normal person with not much but yourself to give. And while it was a lot to give, would it be enough for someone like Joaquin? You weren't sure.

It’s what you’re thinking about when he stirs beside you. You quickly close your eyes, trying to settle back into the mattress but Joaquin can feel the tension in your muscles as he stretches against you.

Lips brush the spot beneath your ear and his voice thick with sleep but smooth, “Buenas días, cariño.”

“Buenas días,” You murmur softly, sinking back against him when his arms circle you.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Hmm?”

“You were awake, probably laying there worrying about everything under the sun. So what was it today?”

He’s observant. Too observant in this case.

“Nothing important.”

He taps your hip, prompting you to roll over to face him. “It’s important if you’re worrying about it. C’mon, querida, lay it on me.”

“It’s just…gallery stuff,” You say hesitantly. “There’s an artist I’m hoping to hear back from.”

It isn’t a complete lie, there is an artist you would die to have in the gallery you help manage. But it’s the weekend, you know you’ll hear back eventually. With Joaquin, you don’t have the courage to ask the right questions.

“I’m sure you’ll hear back from them soon. They’d be lucky to be working under you. I mean look at that,” he points to a piece you painted that’s now hanging on his wall.

You hadn’t planned to give it to him though your relationship with him had inspired it. He’d come over one day and begged you to give it to him, not knowing he’d been the inspiration.

Your cheeks warm at his praise, at the meaning of the piece, unbeknownst to him. Shaking your head you insist, “That’s nothing.”

“It’s from your hands,” He counters, eyes warm.

His faith in you and your artistry make your heart race a little, that feeling returning. You try to swallow it down, distracting yourself by running a hand through his soft hair. “If you wanted in my nonexistent pants, you could just kiss me.”

His eyes go from warm to scorching, and he pinches your thigh playfully. “Maybe I wanted to compliment you first. I get to do that, you know.”

You’ve got him right where you want him, and you know that with his touch, with his kiss that all those worrying thoughts will fade to the background.

“Compliment received. Now what?”

The depth of Joaquin’s hunger bleeds through when he leans in to kiss you. His mouth is insistent, entitled as he kisses you deeply. He pushes you back against the sheets, both his arms coming up to pin your wrists down on either side of your head.

“Vamos a alistarte para mí, ¿hmm?” He asks, his lips brushing yours with every word.

“Mhmm, yeah,” you breathe, kissing more firmly at his mouth.

He returns your kiss for a few seconds before he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently. He starts a trail of these bites downward, your neck, your breasts, tummy and eventually thighs as he spreads your legs wide.

His mouth stays that way even as he eats you out; eager and demanding. He knows exactly what to do to get you to shiver and whine, his tongue alternating between sucking at your clit and dipping inside you to taste more of your slick. This combination takes you high quickly and once you’re relaxed for him, he slides his cock inside of you in one thrust as he kisses you gently.

With each roll of his hips, the tip of his cock feels like it’s kissing your womb, like he’s trying to dig himself further inside you.

“Joaquin, fuck,” You whine, one of your hands gripping his hair roughly.

He groans as pleasurable pain bursts against his scalp; he welcomes the way you sometimes pull his hair or bite the muscle of his arms. He bends to kiss the tip of your nose, shushing you. “Shhh, yo sé. Just take it for me, hmm, amorcito?”

You let out a gasping breath, nodding softly. It feels like he’s in your guts, in your throat but taking him is what you want. What you both want. “Okay,” You breathe, trembling beneath him as the band inside you winds tighter.

“Hold me close, querida,” He coos, finding more stable purchase on his knees so that his thrusts can come quicker and harder.

It’s a familiar dance that your bodies fall into, hips kissing in a rhythm that bring you both closer to the prescipe of your highs. Joaquin’s mouth is always busy, either praising you with how well you take him or leaving bites along your neck and shoulder.

You fall apart around him, biting your lip to hold in the wanton groan.

Joaquin bends to take control of your lips, shaking his head as he does. “Quiero oírte,” He mumbles against your lips.

It’s impossible then for you to resist; how could you deny him what he wanted if it was in your power?

Your body shakes beneath his, squeezing his cock tight as you whimper and moan beneath him. While you’ve always felt self conscious about how loud you can get, Joaquin has reassured you that he loves it. You should believe him with how quickly he unravels as your moans spill into the air.

He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth trying to swallow your sweet sounds as he fills you with his cum.

You’re exactly where you want to be— surrounded. By the scent of sex and Joaquin, by his warmth and his praise. By his desire.

—

The next time that feeling shows its face is just a couple weeks later. You woke up with a start, your brain playing games with your heart even as you slept. The sight of Joaquin soundly asleep in your bed should’ve helped but it sent you further into a panic.

You love him, that much is sure. But could you ever tell him? Would you be enough?

Slowly, you reach over to grab your phone off the nightstand before slinking out of bed and into the kitchen. You call one of your closest friends, Eden; they’ve been privy to the entire journey Joaquin. They know how much you care for him.

As usual you skip the pleasantries, too far in your frenzy. “I have to end things with him.”

Eden has been quite patient with you despite your flip flopping nature. Even now. “Why’s that?” They ask, like the two of you haven’t had this conversation multiple times now.

“You know why.”

“I know why you think, but like I’ve said before I don’t think that’s true.”

“He’s a superhero.”

“And you’re somebody’s too. Managing a gallery at your age isn’t something that just happens, usually you’re just assisting.”

“Yeah, but I’m not saving anyone’s life.”

“No one’s expecting that from you. Least of all Joaquin,” They reason easily.

“I just don’t want to disappoint him. Maybe I haven’t yet, but I probably will and I think that would hurt more than me just ending things while we’re ahead.”

“Are you really ahead if you’re in love with him?”

“He doesn’t know that I’m in love with him. That would scare him off too I bet.”

“Did you call me so I could confirm your delusions or challenge you?”

Your voice grows softer as your words grow more vulnerable, “I don’t know, I just— I woke up in a panic and when I looked at him I had to face everything that I might lose. Waking up next to him means more than I ever thought it would.”

Eden’s tone is much more tender when they speak again, “Honey—“

“Querida? You in here?” Joaquin calls, his voice sounding much closer than you would like.

If you could hear him so easily, could he hear you?

“I have to go, he’s up. I’ll call you later,” You hang up just as Joaquin appears in the hallway, giving him your best reassuring smile. “Mornin’.”

He tilts his head, hair fluffy and mused. He studies you for a moment. “Que pasó?”

“Nada. Fue Eden.”

“They okay?” He asks, slowly closing the space between the two of you.

“Yeah they’re totally fine.”

His gaze lingers a beat longer than usual and for a moment you think he’s going to say something that confirms he overheard. Instead, his hands cup your cheeks, and he examines you further, his eyes so soft and warm. “You okay?”

You shut your eyes, leaning into his hands with a soft hum.

“Eyes open,” he challenges.

Silently sighing, you open your eyes, finding his gaze toxicating and grounding all at once. “I’m okay. Dame un beso,” you whisper.

Joaquin is still at first, and you can feel the way his eyes dig into you, searching for whatever you’re trying to hide from him. Whatever he sees, if anything at all, he must not be ready to talk about. Or maybe, he’s respecting your autonomy.

The way his hands cradle your face changes into something nurturing and delicate. “Besos a la orden��pero solo porque me lo pediste bonito,” he teases.

His kiss is much like it always is, unyielding and hypnotic. He has you pinned against the counter with nowhere to go. If your hands are any indicator where they’re clutching at his shirt, there’s nowhere you want to go anyway.

As always, you and Joaquin work together seamlessly, your hands moving up to thread through his hair as his move down to grip your hips and hoist you on the counter.

“What do you want, hmm? Who?” he asks, breathless from thrusting himself into the cradles of your thighs.

“You,” you mumble clumsily into his mouth, too occupied with tasting his tongue.

“Soloamente yo?” he grits out, nipping at your lip.

There’s a new and charged intensity in the way his mouth is against yours, the way his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips.

There is no hesitation in your answer. “Yes.”

“Porque?”

“Hmm?” you hum in confusion, breath catching in your throat as his fingers slide into your panties to find your clit.

Why do you want him? What kind of question is that— why wouldn’t you want him? The true question is why does he want you? But you aren’t allowed to slip into that thought pattern, his voice bringing you back to the present.

“Porque?” he asks again but he doesn’t let you respond. He keeps talking, his voice and fingers relentless. “Porque tu eres mía. Entiendes?”

“Si, soy tuya,” you whine as two of his thick fingers slip inside you.

—

It’s been a few weeks now since that day. You’re still thinking about how intense Joaquin was that morning, wondering what had gotten him so riled up. He had spread you across your kitchen counters and kept you pinned there with his fingers and mouth for minutes on end, eventually dragging you down to the floor to lose himself inside you. Whatever that was felt like a new piece of him you had unlocked, carnal and passionate. The thought sends a shiver down your spine— it feels like you can still taste him and feel his touch.

There’s a knock on your door and Joaquin starts to tease you right off the bat, “You always daydreaming on the clock like this, querida?”

You jump, grateful that you had decided to take your work back to your office instead of working in the lobby with how distracted you seem to be.

Scrambling, you reach for some papers in an attempt to look like you’re working. “Oh fuck, Joaquin. Hi. Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were out of town.”

“We finished up early.” He leans on your desk, bending to place a kiss on your forehead. “I’m here because I want you to get dinner with me. You down?”

“Definitely, but I’m not off for another hour.”

“An hour, huh?” He looks at his watch, squinting. “I could make something shake in that hour. I’ll pick you up then.”

“O-okay,” you confirm before glancing over to your computer screen.

He clears his throat, and you meet his gaze again. Teasingly, he says, “Dame un beso, princesa.”

His words bring heat to your face but you can’t help but smile whenever Joaquin teases you; it’s so him. You stand from your desk, palms pressed into stacks of paper and sticky notes so you can press your lips to his. His hands find your waist and he nearly drags you over the desk, just succeeding in curbing his eagerness to be with you. It makes your head swim and for a moment you forget you’re at work.

The shrill of your phone cuts through the sensual haze and he pecks you on the lips on last time. “I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

You’re able to let yourself slip into a groove when there’s another knock at your door.

You don’t even look up, continuing to type the email you’re writing. “Joaquin, it definitely hasn’t been an hour.”

“So it was him!” your coworker, Daniella squeals. “When he asked for you at the reception desk I thought it was him. Jeff said it wasn’t.”

Jeff makes his way into your office with Daniella on his heels. “I thought he’d be the type to keep romance in the inner circle. Date another avenger or something. How’d you bag the Falcon?”

“We’re just getting to know each other,” you suggest.

“That’s not what he said at the desk,” Jeff retorts.

“Yeah, he said he was your boyfriend,” Daniella sings.

“Well he wasn’t gonna say he’s my booty call. Can you guys let me work, he’s gonna be back to pick me up.”

“Oooo, he’s taking you for a ride on those wings?”

“Dani—“

“Maybe an autograph?” Jeff cuts in.

“Out. Both of you.”

They know you only use that tone when you’re dealing serious and scurry out of your office. You get a decent amount of work done and when an hour has passed you pack up and make your way into the lobby. Joaquin is studying a set of quilts hanging from the ceiling, his back to you. You quickly make your way past the reception desk, ignoring the kissy sounds that Daniella and Jeff make as you walk by.

“Prompt as ever, Torres.”

He glances over his shoulder at you with a grin. “Always. C’mere. Para ti,” He hands you a bouquet of wildflowers before grasping your free hand to pull you close. “This is one of your artists, yeah?”

His question derails you from questioning him on the flowers. “Yeah, the one I was worried about.”

“Told you you’d get it done. Listas?”

“Listo.”

Joaquín takes you to a place you’ve both been a few times, a dining hall comprised of food trucks by the water. There’s collections of picnic tables to sit out, a dessert corner, and even a dance floor.

After making a game plan to get one thing from each truck, you both take your respective routes and agree to meet at a table near the dance floor.

It’s a struggle not let your mind wander as the two of you catch up, telling the other how the last week has gone while munching on your buffet. Jeff’s words had amplified you worries about not being enough for Joaquin.

As always, Joaquin notices but this time instead of confronting you, he wants to give you reassurance. He had heard your conversation with Eden all those weeks ago and in turn could identify when you were getting in your head about your dynamic with him. After some thinking, he realized he was ready to put those questions to rest for the both of you.

He finishes his bite, wiping his fingers before he rests a hand on top of yours. “Dance with me.”

“Joaquin…”

His mouth sets into a pout, eyes going wide. “Please, querida?”

You let out a resign sigh and start to stand, “Fine.”

There’s a slow song playing once he guides you to the dance floor, and he pulls you close, tucking you against his chest.

His mouth brushes your temple when he finally speaks “You’re distracted.”

“I’m not.”

“You barely touched those curly fries, and we got them because you begged.”

You shrug, looking up at him with a frown. “So maybe I’m a little distracted. Work has been a little nuts.”

“It’s not about, oh you know, your conversation with Eden?”

It feels like someone’s poured cold water down the back of your shirt. You stand straight up, creating a small gap between you despite being linked by your hands. “What conversation with Eden?”

“The one where you worried about being enough for me— which you are,” he murmurs.

“No it’s not about that,” you lie.

“Then it’s about the loving me part?”

The nonchalant manner in which he brings it up has discomfort festering in your chest. Did he think it was funny? That your love for him was so inconsequential that he could talk about it like it’s the weather?

“Joaquin I don’t want—“ you start defensively, but he cuts you off.

“Te quiero también. I do. I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Or maybe I should’ve been the brave one, no sé.” He stops, raising a hand to your cheek so that you have to meet his gaze. “But it’s true, I love you too.”

“You do?” You ask skeptically.

“I do.”

“So what does this mean? That you really are my boyfriend?”

He laughs, holding you a little closer as he starts to to sway again. “Your coworkers are chatty.”

“They were bursting at the seams. Jeff wants an autograph.”

“Only if he’s not a pain in your ass.”

“He’ll be one if I don’t get it for him.”

“Then sure, mi amor, I can oblige,” he agrees, kissing your mouth, your temple, your forehead.

You rest your head more firmly on his chest, feeling much less restless. He loves you too. You’re enough for him. He needs you too.

“Thank you, Joaquin.”

“Always.” He assures you. After several moments of reverent silence he speaks again. “Y’know you haven’t said it back, so I’m just wondering if—“

“Yes, Joaquin, I still love you.”

“Just checking,” He murmurs cheekily.

must be 18+/have age in bio to be on the nsfw joaquin torres taglist!

nsfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69 , @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @peacefangirl, @soularsss, @everydaydreamer, @violetpassionfruit

[luffywillfindtheonepiece]

That iis my problem with the anime as well.

Like they sometimes makes things less impactful but also since the manga is close to the anime they add some unnecesary filler as well, like with Crocodile there is two sentences they added that I found annoying:

First is when Crocodile praised Mr3 in the manga for using his powers effectively to block Magellan.

I found this moment nice bc until to this point Crocodile was just calling him useless and trashing him so it was nice to see he could appreciate his old subordinate in a way.

While in the manga they added this uneccesary sentence where he was just still trashing at him taking away from the nice compliment he gave.

Then this other moment that happened as well in the fight agaisnt Mihawk:

Crocodile seems mad af and seems like he got even more mad bc Mihawk damaged Daz. He never complains about Daz power or makes fun of him and just tells Mihawk to gtfo that he wasnt in the mood.

While in the anime they added him telling Daz that why he is sleeping and Daz says that he has been out of shape etc etc idk

It seems like Toei has this image of Crocodile that needs to be belittling others 24/7 and despite those moments being just one sentences and very subtle i find those kinda of annoying, like if they cant see that he could actually appreciate/ care or compliment other ppl without being rude to them.

Look I love the OP anime, like it has Issues Galore and yet despite that it's an absolute treasure with so much artistic value and beauty to it, there's just as much good to the anime as there is bad and I unironically love it so, so very much

But it never fails to crack me up how much Toei just hated Crocodile's guts and went out of their way to disrespect the man at every turn during Impel Down/Marineford

Like look at this panel of Crocodile clashing against Mihawk to defend Luffy

The power, the sheer force of the impact, I can HEAR the way metal meets metal in this panel (and not because of the sound effect that's blocking half the bloody art). The way Crocodile jumps in out of nowhere to completely dominate the shot to everyone's (Luffy, Mihawk and us the readers) surprise and asserting his dominance, hiding Luffy from Mihawk's sight entirely and showing that he is force to be reckoned with. The movement in the art, the dynamic composition and posing, the dimension and depth, it's SUCH a good action panel, it's so fucking good

And the anime is just

Toei did my man so dirty

[writtenapoiogy]

home; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: 'You were 20 weeks pregnant when Jacaerys and the Queen had deemed Dragonstone no longer safe for you and the babe. You were to be sent to Winterfell where your safety would be secured. Or so Jace thought.'

word count: 3.8k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy sex, slight hair pulling, some dirty talk, jace is obsessed with readers belly, ALSO-- ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, blood, hurt and comfort, and sadness PROBABLY SOME OTHER STUFF I FORGOT

a/n: i don't go too in-depth about the miscarriage but it is known that she has one ALSO THIS IS THE MOST IVE WRITTEN EVER???? yall it took me TEN days to write this... anyway i hope you guys enjoy it <333

You stood watching the Dragons soar above the castle. Your hands sat clasped under your growing belly. You heard footsteps approach from behind you. You were pleased to see Jacaerys yet shocked to see the Queen trailing closely behind. You didn’t see Rhaenyra much unless she had matters to discuss involving the war— more specifically what you could do to help.

“Jace,” you smiled before curtsying to Rhaenyra. “Your grace. Is everything all right?”

Jace came up beside you and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. His hand came to rest on your belly; something he did regularly since you two found out you were with child.

Rhaenyra smiled at the happy couple. “How’s the babe, Princess?” Her question was genuine. She was very happy for you and the prince.

You smiled and placed your hand on top of Jace’s, “He’s moving a lot more.”

“He?” The Queen exclaimed.

Jacaerys chimed in, “The princess believes we are having a boy. I think it is a girl.”

Though it was nothing but harmless small talk you couldn’t help but think there was something more they came up here to talk to you about. “Not that I don’t enjoy your presence, your grace, but I can’t help but wonder if there is some other reason you came up here with my husband.”

Jace stepped away from you and you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. A feeling of worry and impending doom took over. The worst of the worst flooded your thoughts. You took a deep breath, “Was there a raven from the North? I-is my brother okay?” You tried to remain calm but the thought alone had you hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey. Shhh.” Jacaerys cupped your face to calm you down. “Everything is alright, my love. Everything is safe up north.” More than one meaning was behind his words. He kissed your forehead as you caught your breath before you had a panic attack. “Which is why you must go.”

What? You must’ve not heard the prince correctly.

“Beg your pardon?” Your eyes went from your husband to his mother quickly. The Queen, however, did not move. She let you and the prince talk this through.

Jacaerys grabbed your attention again. “You are not safe here. Neither of you.” He looked down at your belly. Worry dripped from his words. After losing Lucerys he couldn’t survive if he lost you too— the both of you. What is a man without his wife and child?

“Yet Dragonstone is safe for you?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You are going through something that should be faced together as a couple. Together as a family.

Jace took a deep breath. It was going to be harder to convince you than he originally thought. “It’s different.”

“How? How is it different, Jacaerys?” You quipped

“Because you cannot fight. We don’t need you to fight. I don’t need you to fight. I just need you and our future prince or princess to be safe. And that is not here. It cannot be here.” Jacaerys’ words punched a hole in your chest.

You felt so useless. You knew how to fight. It was one of your favorite pastimes with Cregan. But due to you being with child, it seemed to have left you feeling worthless. You stormed past the two of them, heading inside the castle.

You headed down a corridor for your bedchamber with hot tears running down your cheeks.

Rhaenyra was quick to follow you inside.“Princess,” the queen spoke gaining your attention. “Every day that that babe grows and flourishes inside of you, you are helping my claim and your husbands. You’re helping us win. That is why we need you in Winterfell, with your brother and his men, so that you will be safe.” Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had spoken about this before they came outside to find you. They knew that this was the best way to secure your family’s future. They just needed you to see that too.

She was right. You had the crown prince’s child growing within you. And keeping you safe is keeping the baby safe. “Okay, your grace. I will go.” You continued, rubbing your belly. “For our protection.”

“It must be tonight, Princess. Once you are farther along it will be too dangerous for you to fly.”

You nodded at your queen and headed to your chambers to gather what things you could.

Within hours you were atop Vermax, your arms wrapped tightly around your husband. The air grew crisp and cold as you flew closer to Winterfell. You buried your face into Jace’s shoulder. You inhaled his scent, never wanting him to leave you. You knew that this was necessary. You held part of the succession to the Iron Throne inside of you.

You landed fairly close to the entrance of Winterfell. You embraced the cold air then you looked at Jacaerys who looked as if he might turn into a popsicle at any given moment.

Cregan called your name as you walked through the doors into Winterfell with the prince by your side. You picked up your pace and threw your arms over your older brother’s shoulders. It had been a while since you last saw him. He squeezed you tightly. After your brother had passed, it was always the two of you. Protecting and comforting each other.

After separating from your embrace you both looked at Jace.

“Could we go inside? Preferably by a warm freshly lit hearth?” The crown prince’s teeth chattered together. His arms wrapped around his chest to preserve heat.

“Always a dramatic to our cool air, my prince.” Cregan jested.

Jacaerys scoffed, “Cool is drastically an understatement, my lord. Sea breeze is cool. This is whatever the complete opposite of dragon fire would be.”

You tried and failed to bite back your smile as you stuck your hand out to Jace. “C’mon my icicle.”

You and Cregan had convinced Jace to stay for supper and to spend one night in the castle before heading back down south.

You were in your nightclothes, standing in front of a warm fire. So much had happened in just a day. Your day had started in Dragonstone and had ended in Winterfell. All you could think about as you looked into the flames was your future with Jacaerys. What the future would hold when this dreadful war was over. What life would be like with your little family on Dragonstone.

Jacaerys walked up behind you and brought his hands to rest on your plump belly. He placed feather-light kisses on your neck, making you relax into him. He rutted his hips against your arse. You felt his hardness against you.

“Jacaerys.” You warned. You brought your hand to the back of his head when the kisses to your neck got rougher. You spun around and as you went to slot your lips together, Jacaerys began to back away pulling you with him. He made you yearn for his kiss, a devilish smirk adorning his face.

You followed him entranced. You climbed into his lap as he sat on the bed. Jace rid you of your gown. Your arms fell to his shoulders, using him to steady yourself. He wrapped a strong arm across your back. He ran his unoccupied hand across your full stomach before running his hand up to cup your plump breast.

You let a whine out at your husband’s touch. His hands left a trail of molten lava on every inch of you they touched. You’ve been ultrasensitive to his touch recently. “Someone will hear us.”

“I do not care,” Jacaerys said bringing his hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to smash your lips together. He didn’t know the next time he would see you after tonight. He was going to make sure he left an imprint. He moved his head down giving you a second to breathe. Your foreheads rested together. “I am the crown prince. I will have my wife when I so please.”

You moaned, snaking a hand to the back of the prince’s head to pull his head back. He groaned in response. You felt wetness pool in your smallclothes. Staring down at the pale skin on his outstretched neck. You quickly made work of ridding him of the thin shirt. Not even bothering with removing his pants completely, you only freed his hardened length.

The two of you stared down at your hand wrapped around the top of his shaft. Jacaerys’ slick smirk faltered when you began to pump him slowly. The tip of his cock hit your stomach, eliciting a moan from the dark-haired boy. Droplets of precome dripping from the head, smearing on your stomach.

Your breath hitched, “Jace. I need you.”

“Then take me, darling.”

You let out a low whimper. You lifted your hips and ran his member down your folds til he reached your entrance. You leaned your forehead against his. You began to sit on his hardness. Feeling his cock enter you deliciously slow.

Jacaerys helped guide you down. You tensed, the burn from his size becoming too much.

Running a soothing hand along your spine, “Breath, my love. It is nothing you haven’t had before.” Jace rasped against your lips.

You took a deep breath in and tilted your forehead against Jacaerys’. You moaned as you exhaled—his cock had begun to slip inside of you as you adjusted to his size.

“That’s it. That’s my girl.” he moaned as he slid completely into you. He adjusted his grip so that his hands were at the base of your bottom, assisting you.

“Jace.” You whimpered feeling so full it was overwhelming. So full of him. So consumed by him. He was all around you. He was completely inside of you, everywhere. You carried his babe inside of you. His blood practically ran in your veins.

“Yes.” He groaned.

You attempted to move your hips to the best of your ability. But you were beginning to realize that your condition was going to be hindering your mobility. Especially while in bed with your husband. “I can’t anymore. I’m too-,” You tried to get out your words, exasperated by the difficulty this was causing you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jace reassured you. He helped move you so that you could lay on your side. After placing you on the bed he stripped the rest of his clothes off of his body.

He laid behind you so that the two of you were spooning. “You are so perfect.” Jacaerys praised you as he placed chaste kisses from your shoulder to your cheek and then to your neck.

You hummed at the words that left your husband’s mouth. You lifted your leg so he could guide his cock to your entrance. He slowly began to press into you, his hand which was once on his member, moved to your hip to completely push into you.

Jace had to squeeze his eyes shut hard to make sure he didn’t come too quickly. Your wet walls welcomed him in. They pulled him deep within your warmth. “Your sweet cunt is all mine, pretty.” He said into your ear, his voice coming out hoarse. He started to slowly thrust into you. He was so tender with you.

Jace had your walls clamping down on him within minutes. The angle at which he was rocking into you, made his cockhead hit that sweet spot deep inside of you leaving you a complete whimpering mess. You swear you could feel every detail of his member. The slight curve it had. And the vein that ran up the side— which you loved to trace with your tongue.

“Fuck.” He groaned into your ear. His hand moved to hold on to your belly, spurring his thrusts. He pumped into you harder now. He loved seeing the results of his actions. Seeing his seed having taken root and growing a beautiful life inside of you. It drove Jacaerys absolutely insane.

“Jace, it’s so-, Fuck!” You yelped at one particularly sharp thrust.

Jace brought his hand down to your sensitive cluster of nerves and drew figure eights. His hips snapped against your arse relentlessly. He loved the noises he was pulling from you as you attempted to keep quiet.

You turned your head back to face your husband as you felt your body begin to convulse. He covered your swollen lips as you let out a drawn-out mewl as you came. Pulsing around him, milking him for all he was worth.

The push and pull of your cunt caused his release to hit him hard and unexpectedly. He moaned into your mouth. He covered your walls in searing hot come. You two lapped your tongues at the others as Jace continued to slowly pump into you. Making sure he had emptied himself completely inside of you.

You winced as Jace pulled out. You hated the feeling of being empty, being without him.

He cleaned you up and you cuddled. One last night before gods knew how long.

One moon had passed since you last saw Jacaerys. And though you had not seen him, you had received a letter from him every other day. He expressed how much he missed and loved you deeply. How much he missed rubbing and kissing your belly. He worried the babe would forget his voice.

He told you that his uncles had been keeping a close look at the skies and that flying to you on a regular basis would do nothing but endanger the both of you. But he promised to fly to you when the babe arrived. He would be there for you. No matter what he would find a way.

You decided to take a stroll, needing a break from the interior of the castle. You were beginning to feel woozy and a change of scenery should do the trick. You had just begun your walk when your brother approached you. “Sister. What are your plans for this afternoon?”

“Read, and read, and then probably read some more.” You joked with the taller man.

Cregan smiled warmly. “What if I knew something fun we could do that does not involve dusty old books?”

“And what would that be dear brother?” You had missed your brother and your people. You knew no one other than Jacaerys down south.

He leaned down, closer to you, “Hunting.” Cregan said in a hushed whisper.

“Hunting? In my condition?” You could’ve let out an obscene laugh, but you didn’t. That would’ve been absurd for a princess.

“Our ancestors had been doing it for centuries. You don’t even have to get close to the animals.” Cregan bumped into your shoulder. “You always had a natural talent with a long bow.”

He was being truthful, however, you hadn’t picked up a bow or, any weapon for that matter, since you began your courtship with Jacaerys. That skill you once had probably dwindled to nothing. “Fine. Under one condition.”

“Anything. I have missed my sister, dearly.”

Your lips upturned into a smile, “We must stay close. If Jace sends a raven or by the grace of the Gods flies in, then I want to be near.”

“Deal.”

The two of you stepped just outside the gates of Winterfell. A quiver weighed heavy against your back, and your longbow sat comfortably on your shoulder. You welcomed the crisp air against your face. The war beams from the sun greeting your cheeks. Oh, how you missed the North. The South was beautiful but it would never compare— it would never quite feel like home.

You and your brother forgone your horses for this hunt since he promised you you would stay close to the wall. You missed hunting. You missed having a bow in your hands. The adrenaline rush it gave was unlike any other.

You were about a quarter mile from the gates when something felt terribly wrong. Cregan turned towards you as he heard your footfalls cease.

Your bow fell, your hands dropping down to your stomach. “Somethings wrong.” You blanched. You turned behind you and looked down noticing a trail of blood. “Cregan..” You gasped and just as you were about to collapse your brother rushed towards you, catching you in his arms.

Cregan had one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He ran all the way back to the castle yelling for them to open the gates. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t lose his sister like this. He made it to your bedchamber with the Maester Kennet following closely behind.

As Cregan placed you in your bed the Maester tended to you swiftly. You moaned in pain. “This can’t be happening.”

“How far along is she?”

You spoke before your brother had the chance, “We only found out two moons ago.” Your sentence finished with a loud groan.

Cregan stood there frozen watching you in pain. His first wife had suffered a terrible fate at the birth of his son. But you were his baby sister and he needed to be there for you in the absence of your husband. He ran to your side taking a warm wet cloth from one of the handmaidens, dabbing it on your forehead.

“Send a raven to Jace. Please.” You said hoarsely to your brother.

“He won’t get it in time.”

“But he will get it. Please just tell him it is urgent. I need him here. I do not care.” You moaned in pain, lurching forward. “CREGAN GO PLEASE!”

The lord rushed down the hall, your screams fading. He quickly found a sheet of paper and wrote a message to the prince hoping he would receive it faster than normal.

“Where is she.”

When the prince arrived in Winterfell, he immediately sought Cregan. Finding him in the Great Hall. The letter Jacaerys received told him something was wrong with the babe and that he needed to come to the North as soon as he possibly could.

“She’s at the godswood.” Cregan looked destroyed. “She refuses to leave.”

Jacaerys went into the woods inside of Winterfell with a lantern since it was the dead of night— and way too cold for you to be out here in any state.

You didn’t turn your head when he called out your name nor when he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Please look at me.” He pleaded. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that without me. I’m sorry we were apart.”

You turned to him sharply. Bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “We were apart because you decided. You sent me away. You sent me away to go through this alone.” Venom dripped from your words, not hiding your pain.

“I sent you home so you would be safe. So you could bear this child in a safe environment with your family.” Jace tried his hardest to make you understand why he did what he did. “I did what I thought was best.”

“And how did that work out Jacaerys?” You knew you shouldn’t be mad at him. It was a great loss for you both, but you needed to direct your anger, your hurt somewhere. “You are my home. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t know this would happen. The queen needed me and she needed my dragon.” He let out an exasperated breath. “This war needs me!”

“More than I? Your wife?” Your words stung him. Tears welt up in his eyes, seeing you like this. Hearing you speak to him like this.

“Please,” Your name fell from his lips.

“You cannot believe that to be true.” You finally reached out and grabbed Jacaerys’ hands, pleading. “Just stay here with me. That way we don’t have to be apart again. We can guarantee each other’s safety.”

“I can’t.” The regret in his eyes was evident. He knew you needed his comfort. Husband and wife shouldn’t be separated the way you have been. He, however, feels that pull to the war. Jace will not be seen as the princeling who didn’t fight for his kingdom or his people. What kind of king would that make him in the future?

“Jacaerys, you can. Your mother has plenty of men to fight for her. She sent your brothers away for their safety. Why would she deny you the same luxury?”

“Their dragons aren’t grown-,” Jace began.

You cut him off, “And Vermax is?”

Jace exclaimed your name, frustrated, “Sending me away with Vermax means my mother is losing another dragon and dragon rider in a war between dragons.” He tried to compose himself not to raise his voice at you. “We cannot sit here and argue when there is a war going on. We just lost our child! I do not want to sit here and argue with my wife when I should be holding her.”

Your face softens. “So stay and hold me Jace. You can fly off with my brother in tow when the time comes. When you are needed. But for now, I need you here. I need you with me. Just come home. Your mother has to understand that. More than anyone. She should understand that.”

“I am home. Anywhere I am with you, I am home. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

You brought your hands up to his face, his face resting in your palm. The two of you were so young. Only ten and seven. He placed his hands on your back and closed the distance between you both. You and Jace relaxed into the kiss. Millions of emotions poured into one kiss.

You pulled yourself away from his lips. “There is something I want to show you.” You took his hand and walked him behind the beautiful weirwood tree. At the bottom of the stomp laid a carving of a baby girl.

Jacaerys gasped. “Is that-,” He started.

“Our beautiful little girl.”

He tried to hold his composure but it hurt so much. He blamed himself. A thousand maybes and what-ifs clouded his mind. He fell to his knees and traced the carving. “I am so sorry.” Jace started to sob.

You fell to the floor and embraced him. “Jace this isn’t your fault. There has been a lot going on. Maester Kennet said it could’ve happened no matter where I was. I was under a lot of stress, Jace. We are in the middle of a war.” You pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

He pulled you so that you were sitting in his lap. He held you tight, almost suffocating. “I love you. This will never happen again. We will never grieve a loss like this apart.”

“I love you most, Husband.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face into his neck.

“I won’t leave you again.”

“Good.”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

[linda-with-an-i]

Important things that RTD set up in his second run of DW and somehow failed to explain:

Why is Ruby magically able to cause snowfalls and why does she have 'a song in her heart' (or something along those lines)?

Why is Mrs Flood able to break the 4th wall?

Why is the Doctor able to hear non-diegetic music and what's going on with all the references with DW actually being a TV show?

Why was it important to mention that Belinda had a descendant, who the doctor met in 'Boom', that looked exactly like her if we're never going to explore the meaning of it again?

How is it possible that during Jodie Whittaker's era UNIT was gone, and just in a couple of years the organization is back with virtually unlimited funds and a whole avengers-tower right in the middle of London?

What happened with Rogue and how was he able to communicate with the doctor whilst still being trapped in superhell? (I reiterate that I don't like him as a character but I feel that this particular plot should have been resolved with Ncuti as the doctor as it would have been coherent with their story arcs)

Now that the doctor changed reality to bring back Poppy, what happened to the original Captain Poppy and the other space babies? Who were Poppy's original parents? And what happened to Bel's original life, wasn't it important as well? What about his housemates? How do we know that they weren't by accident erased from existence because the Doctor altered reality?

How tf is it possible that Timelords can't have children? The 10th doctor (who is written by RTD as well ffs) specifically mentioned a couple of times having children?!?! Make it make sense. 

The whole bigeneration concept. I understand the idea, but I feel a more in-depth explanation would have been nice.

I'm sure there are more plot-points I'm forgetting, so feel free to add more, but the point I'm trying to make is: why would you set up so much stuff, if all Disney+ is giving you are 8 episodes per series?

It's frustrating, because the premise of those ideas are very interesting but they would require more time and more episodes to explore those concepts with a satisfying conclusion. Not to mention that RTD2 has been filled with fan-service galore, way too many characters (old and new) and publicity stunts, especially in the finale.

And of course the main victims of what happened in the end are Ncuti and Varada, because they were brilliant in their roles, and they deserved better and they deserved more. I just hope that they're getting lots of love and compliments from the fans, at least as consolation.

I'm not saying it's 100% RTD's fault, but I think some decisions led to some lazy writing and the result is... not the best to say the least.

[g1rld1ary]

Ohhh, Hotch's Daughter x Spencer is my FAVOURITE. Anything forbidden, etc. My vision is that they're on a case in Readers' hometown, and they meet up and maybe some smut? Almost getting caught in the act type stuff? Some awkward Spencer 😬

prev

wc: 2093

cw: making out and tits out, almost getting caught

me: thank u sm for this request gorg! i didn't do full smut coz i just Could Not but i hope u enjoy!! sorry this has taken so long it has been a crazy crazy month in gia land! i love this world so requests r still more than welcome! in my head this takes place quite a bit after the first two parts; a lot has taken place in the interim

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It was weird enough being back in your hometown for the holidays after moving interstate for college, then your big girl job. Being back at your mother’s always gave you a weird feeling of detachment, being in a place that used to be home but didn’t carry the same weight anymore.

What was weirder, though, was the text you got from Aaron as you sat on the tree swing outside, reading.

Are you with your Mom? We have a case near you right now. Dinner when we finish?

You laughed at his proper spelling and grammar, texting back to tell him you would love to. The coincidence was uncanny, but you weren’t in any position to complain about seeing him.

Your mother was shockingly excited, going so far as to insist that you invite the whole team over for dinner on the night they closed the case. It certainly wasn’t the reaction you were expecting given the whole secret baby thing she’d done for two decades, but you thought it was sweet that she was enthusiastic about your relationship with your dad.

That was why you were at your local police precinct, alerted by your father that the case was wrapping up and would be finished by the evening.

“Miss me?” You walked through the door into the meeting room the BAU had obviously been delegated to. The team all looked up in surprise, except your dad.

“Baby Hotch, what are you doing here?” Morgan grinned, standing to give you a quick hug.

“I grew up here,” You replied, returning Rossi’s wave of greeting. “But here, here? I come with invitations. My mom insists that you all come for dinner tonight, as soon as you’ve wrapped up the case… and maybe had some showers. Not to be rude, but it is not smelling like heaven in here.” You were glad the team got your joke, what with half of them being covered in bruises or blood. You didn’t know what had gone down in the case, and you didn’t think you wanted to.

You stuck around as the team wrapped up the administrative parts of the case, exhaustion clear on their faces. Still, the promise of a home-cooked meal (and a glimpse into Hotch’s past and your private life) kept them going, spirits not too shabby.

“Alright, shall we say meet at your mom’s place in an hour and a half? That way, everyone has time to get cleaned up and you have time to go hide anything embarrassing in your childhood bedroom because you know they’ll all charm their way in,” Hotch said with a tiny glint of humour in his eye, the look he tended to save for his children. You nodded dutifully, jokingly saluting as you fished your mom’s car keys from the depths of your coat pocket.

The BAU all peeled off into the SUVs, ready for a hot shower and a change of clothes. You were just unlocking the doors to your own vehicle when the precinct doors opened and out stepped a very familiar face.

“Doctor Reid,” You said, voice full of mocking, “What a complete surprise!”

“You know, I was stuck taking witness interviews today so I’m not in any desperate need for a shower…” He matched your faux innocence, letting himself into the passenger seat.

Safely inside a car with tinted windows, you leant over the centre console to press your lips to his.

“Hi, Spencie,” You giggled, putting the car into drive. Reid pulled a face at the nickname, but let his hand fall to rest on your thigh regardless.

“You’re incorrigible.” He squeezed your leg lightly.

Your mom was busy in the kitchen when you both arrived, trying to knock each other off the path up to your front door like children.

“Hey, Mom. This is Doctor Reid from Dad’s team. He’s gonna hang out until the rest of the team gets here.”

“Spencer,” Reid corrected, waving from beside you. “Thank you so much for inviting us over, ma’am. The team is very fond of your daughter.”

“I see,” Your mom replied, shooting you a look that said he’s cute. Knowing Reid, he absolutely caught it. “It’s nice to meet you too, Spencer. Dinner won’t be for a while, you two go hang out.”

“Are you sure we can’t help out?” Reid asked at the same time you exclaimed, “We’re not thirteen!”

“Thirteen?” Reid asked with a laugh as you led him up the stairs to your childhood bedroom.

“Shut up,” You groaned, “It just sounded like she was gonna tell us to go play Monopoly, or she was excited for me to have my first kiss.” Spencer shook his head, laughing again at your ridiculousness. He liked your mom already.

“So, you don’t want to kiss me?” He asked with frankly highly effective puppy eyes, moving closer to loop his arms around your waist.

You only got a peck from the genius before he’d caught a glance of the bedroom behind you, spinning you quickly so he could snoop inside.

You stood in the centre of the room, sinking into the pink fluffy rug, as Spencer darted about the room, taking in every fragment of your life before college.

“Is this a tape deck?” He asked, immediately flipping through your collection of cassettes.

“Yeah, my parents refused to buy me a CD player, so it was my darkest secret in high school that I was still listening to cassettes. I’ve got a good collection, though. Now, can you please help me hide anything too embarrassing from Morgan?” Reid popped in a tape, Duran Duran’s Rio album, and got to work, but not without commenting on how embarrassing it was that you were into Duran Duran as a teen.

“Debate team?” He asked, pointing at the certificates pinned to your wall. You stared at them for a moment with squinted eyes, scrutinising.

“Leave them. At least I was good at debating. Take down the math olympiad participation prize next to it, that’s the line, I think.”

“I did math olympiads!”

“Exactly.” Spencer rolled his eyes playfully but took down the certificate nonetheless, putting it in the storage tub you’d allocated to anything you didn’t want seen.

You went about in peace for a while, you cleaning and Spencer snooping amongst your things.

“Is this actually you?” He broke the silence, holding up a small photo book.

“Oh my god,” You moaned, covering your face with your hands. The photos were from your senior year of college, when you and your friends spent spring break down by the beach. The photos were absolutely mortifying, capturing you drunk, messy, and in far too few clothes. You weren’t even that many years into the workforce, and you already couldn’t believe you were ever wearing those itty-bitty bikinis out in public. “I haven’t looked at tequila the same way since.”

“You look really great, you should wear that again sometime,” Spencer said, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Alright, perv,” You laughed, taking the photo book from his hands, “That’s definitely going in the box.” You bent over to put the album away when Spencer’s hands landed warm on your hips, spinning you around and pulling you flush against him.

“I’m serious,” He murmured, lips brushing against yours, “You’re so beautiful.”

Before you could reply, Spencer was kissing up and down your neck, a contented sigh escaping from your lips.

You led him blindly to your childhood single bed, falling onto it as the back of your knees hit the bed frame. You pulled Spencer up to your lips in a desperate kiss, running your fingers through his hair as he worked on getting his buttoned shirt undone.

He pulled away so you could get your own shirt off, his eye catching on one of your stuffed animals sitting snugly next to your pillow.

“Who’s this guy?” He asked with a small laugh, and you huffed.

“For your information, that’s Mister Stripes.” You succeeded in unfastening your bra, “And hello? More important things to be focusing on? We have to be quick.”

Spencer immediately turned his attention back to you, hands going straight to palm your tits, drawing a gentle sigh from you. You attacked his neck with kisses, sucking on his pulse point to hear the pretty moans he made.

You’d just popped the button of his slacks when you heard boisterous laughter from the kitchen, voices that were definitely not your mother’s. Spencer’s eyes snapped up from where his tongue was on your nipple, both of you freezing in your tracks. If the BAU were already in your house, it was only a matter of moments before they would find their way into your bedroom. You really did not want them finding you and Spencer getting hot and heavy… especially as none of them knew you were even close.

Spencer launched across the room over to your old wardrobe, pulling his shirt over his shoulders and doing the buttons with record speed. You heard your name being called from the bottom of the stairs.

“You up there?” Hotch called, and your eyes widened more than you thought possible.

“Uh, yeah! I’ll be down in a sec! Spencer too,” You added after a moment, hoping it would seem less suspicious if you were upfront about his presence.

“No way, I need to see her childhood bedroom.” You heard Morgan say, accompanied by heavy footsteps getting closer.

“Fuck!” You hissed, giving up on the possibility of getting your bra back on with your fingers anxiously shaking, kicking it furiously under your bed and pulling a sweater over your head to lessen the damage.

You brushed through your hair with your fingers as the door creaked open and the rest of the BAU let themselves in.

“Hey, Dad,” You greeted him with a smile you hoped was confident, giving him a quick hug.

“Hey, Honey. And Reid.”

“Doctor Reid got here a little early, I was just showing him around my room,” You cut in before he could say anything.

“She was a champion debater,” Spencer added with his signature awkward smile, pointing over to the certificates by the door. That got everyone’s attention onto the various memorabilia and memories scattered around your room and off of you.

You and Spencer made eye contact, identical sighs of relief making you giggle.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Morgan said as you were explaining a framed photo to the rest of the group, “Better do up that last button before Hotch notices the hickey on your neck.” Spencer almost jumped out of his skin, hands flying to cover up the mark. He did just that, trying to casually pass by your mirror and ensure his shirt covered everything indecent.

Your mother called you all down to eat minutes later, which saved you both from the persisting anxiety of having been almost caught. Spencer was seated far from you, but you both spent the meal stealing looks and small smiles.

Dinner with the BAU was everything you thought it would be: loud, chaotic and full of love. You enjoyed hearing stories of your Dad at work, it helped piece together the puzzle of someone you’d spent so long wishing to get to know.

As the night drew to a close, you found yourself dreading the team having to leave, feeling at home amongst the banter and teasing.

When it did officially become too late and even Hotch was refusing drink refills, you and your mom followed the team to the front door, making everyone promise to return for another meal the next time they were in the state. Hotch even suggested that you should do something as a three: him, you and your mom, which made you beam.

On the way out the door, Spencer gave your hand a squeeze. Soft, simple, something otherwise unnoticeable. But he couldn’t kiss you, couldn’t tell you to call him later or update him on the book you were reading. So he gave your hand a gentle squeeze to tell you he’d be thinking of you on the plane ride home.

[brb-on-a-quest]

#excuse me while I go research Jungian archetypes

no no (i mean yes please do) but allow me to infodump while i procrastinate doing actual work for that class lmaooo

So carl Gustav Jung was one of Freud's contemporaries and they were like best buds but then Freud was like "oh no my bff disagreed with me a little bit on psychosexual development and like other things and we are no longer friends and i'm leaving our psychological club that i wanted him president for" (drama king much?) (ok so it was a little bit different, exaggerations for dramatic effect so i remember this bear with me). So Carl Gustav Jung was like Augh. Fine I'll go off and Do My Own Thing then.

So a lot of his concepts of how the human person works is somewhat similar to freud (he uses a lot of the same terms unfortunately so I've taken to spelling the ones that are specifically Jung's with a J in front so its now the Junconscious, bear with me). So the Junconscious(tm) is split into two parts, one that is our Jpersonal Junconscious that is very similar to freud's in that that's where all our repressed memories and stuff goes, but there's also the Jcollective Junconscious.

The short story of the Jcollective Junconsciousness this is that basically unlike what some people think, we aren't born as a blank slate and we get all our information into our experiences but rather we get an inherited information template that is the foundation for our sensory experience to fill in the details. it's like we're born with the a very sketchy image of the world but as we develop, we color in the sketch and paint it our own very vivid experience but we all get the same initial sketch. this is where you'll find archetypes of The Mother(tm) so everyone at birth has a concept of what A Mother Is and as we grow older and more experienced to our mothers we know that "oh mothers are caring, mothers love me unconditionally OR mothers don't love me, they're volatile or <insert your own perceptions of mothers here>."

The ones that i had initially mentioned are 5 archetypes of the self so they are like the four components that everyone actually has (Animus/Anima are actually kind of the same thing). But again they're like templates of what we consider to be personality components that get filled in as we get more actual Social Exp (yay!). I'm going to go through them because This Is How I Will Learn This.

It's easier to understand (at least for me) as opposites so they kind of frame each other.

so we begin with the Persona. Persona is like a mask, it's a conglomerations of all the traits and stuff that we think are acceptable to society. it comes from the greek word for like the masks they have in the theater departments yk that tragiccomedy masks? bombass name imo).

The foil of the Persona is the Shadow. The shadow is where we stuff all of the traits of ourselves that aren't necessarily deemed acceptable for society. This is not to say the Shadow is evil, the persona is good. Jung actually thought we should get in touch with our shadow to add more depth to our Persona because if you spend too much time making yourself into bite size pieces for society to handle, you're really a superficial person and that's not helpful. That's not to say the Shadow is your True Self either because it's not but there's a process of engaging with it in a Healthy Way to make you a complete Person. Like idk best example I can come with is You Have A person with a dark sense of humor. Not everyone's going to appreciate having a dark sense of humor, but if you don't engage with your dark sense of humor sometimes you come across as feeling very fake or like you're putting on a front and not saying what you're actually thinking (?) Am i making less sense? point that im trying to make is Persona =/= angelic in Jung's eyes and The Shadow =/= sin automatically yk?

We move on. The Anima/Animus are grouped together and this is where Jung is rather Progressive for His time (really surprising actually considering how much time he spent with stupid Freud). But he believed that each human being had some elements of the other gender that they needed to learn from. Like men have a certain amount of femininity (think like sensitivity or empatheticness) and women have a certain amount of masculinity that they also needed to embody (logicness and i forget what the other term was, probably like directness or something). Basically what he's saying is "men are allowed to be sensitive and empathetic and women are allowed to be logical and direct" which yk. pretty mindblowing stuff for a culture that was very insistent on gender roles. JP2 was actually someone who was also talking about something similar by saying something to the effect of there's lessons we can only learn by watching the other gender something something" (my notes get very vauge and my professor does not use powerpoints unfortunately).

And then Finally we Have The True Self. And the way I am remembering this because I'm thinking of the self As The Avatar (only the master of all four archetypes can save the world) because that's kind of what Jung wanted. in order become most intune with ourself we had to get in touch and become aware of our masks, our shadows, and our "other gender" traits that are inherent within us to become the self. Idk I don't really have a clear definition.

Top 5 Character Archetypes. Go.

I'll be so frfr rn we just learned about jungian archetypes and I thought that's what you meant and I was like (there are only 5 of them? Side note pretty sure there are maybe more than 5 but I only need to know 5 but as a bonus content it's: self, persona, animus, shadow, anima

Top 5 character archetypes

*flashsbacks to the one year she was in highschool*

The scoundrels /aff -trickers, rebels, outlaws, but like your chaotic good genre of characters

The idiots /aff - really this on the same level as the scoundrels /aff with how much I adore them

The ppl who are so broken and bruised and wounded and yet they keep not dying and they keep choosing goodness and hope and love of self sacrifice

The ally/sidekick character - mostly bc they're the ones I will probs relate to the most lmao

I like the characters who are the most world building or relationship building ones. Give me loreeee

[zerobaselove]

you're worth it | han yujin

pairing: yujin x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1001

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread!

notes: yujinnnnn!! my little guy ugh he is just so cutie i am so devastated. anyways this was so fun to write as i procrastinate getting ready for work LMAO so i hope y'all like it <3 thank u anon for this idea it was so lovely (i know i didn't go too in depth w the actual sleepover part im SORRYYY)

you didn't consider yourself someone who got nervous particularly easy. especially not when it involved your best friend yujin. everything was easy with him. was. before you had developed a little crush on the boy.

you had done a pretty good job at ignoring the way your heart would speed up when you caught him looking at you, or when your hands brushed when you walked side by side. but you weren't sure if that same ignorance would hold up for tonight, your first sleepover at his place.

it's not a big deal. you repeated in your head. repeating the phrase like a mantra as you approached the door for his dorm. you had met a couple of his roommates in passing but the idea of meeting so many new people definitely didn't help the nerves that bubbled up in your chest.

raising your hand you knocked on the door a few times, the once silent apartment erupted in muffled noises. screams, maybe? you considered, not even having a moment to consider why there would be screaming before the door opened to yujin with a sheepish grin on his face.

you almost didn't notice the swarm of other guys standing in the apartment with wide grins on their faces. some giggling to themselves or whispering, while one you recognized, hanbin, lightly hit them on the arm in an attempt to get them to stop. you couldn't help but giggle at the group of boys, giving them a small wave before greeting yujin.

yujin hadn't realized why you were giggling until he turned around to walk with you into the apartment, letting out a groan, "please just ignore them they're being annoying." he put emphasis on the last word, some of the boys feigning offense, hands over their chests like they had just been betrayed.

"we just wanted to meet your little friend," one said with a wiggle of their eyebrows, "is that so bad?"

yujin let out another huff before reluctantly introducing you to the group. you soon learned the two giggling to each other were gyuvin and gunwook. everyone was so nice and welcoming to you that you immediately felt at ease there. the teasing remarks to yujin also seemed to help as you all laughed together for a bit.

who you remembered to be matthew spoke up as he faced you and yujin, "yujin you're really gonna let them stand there carrying their bags this whole time? not very gentlemanly of you." he shook his head, jokingly wagging his finger as he told him off causing a laugh to leave your chest before you insisted it was okay and that you didn't mind.

"no he's right, you can put your stuff in my room, follow me." yujin smiled shyly, leading you to his bedroom. you both tried to ignore the whistles and whispers from the boys behind you as the door shut behind you both.

yujin sat on his bed with a sigh, "sorry about them, they're a lot." he chuckled. you put your bag at the end of his bed before plopping down next to him.

"don't apologize," you reassured him with a smile, "they're really fun actually, i was more worried if they'd like me or not."

he turned to you with a smile, "oh don't worry, they loved you before you even got here." you let out a relieved sigh before you took a moment to process what he had said, raising an eyebrow.

"yujin," you smirked, holding back a giggle "do you talk about me to them?"

his eyes widened at the accusation, knowing deep down what it implied about his feelings towards you. "well," he brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, "you see," his voice trailed off.

"so that's a yes?" you giggled, placing your hand on his, "don't worry, i think it's cute." as soon as the word cute left your mouth yujin started stuttering some denial as his eyes darted between you and your hand on his.

watching the way his brain started malfunctioning, you knew you were the only chance of this conversation continuing, so you opened your mouth again, feeling more confident now. "i don't know if you know this jinnie," the nickname rolling off your tongue so naturally, "but i like you, a lot."

you watched as he processed your confession, a wide smile spreading across his face. "oh!" he exclaimed, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, "i uh," his hand squeezed yours lightly, looking for reassurance, "like you too, also a lot." you giggled at the boy in front of you, his smile becoming infectious, soon mirroring his wide grin.

"well good," you smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek, "now let's head back out there before they start getting the wrong idea." you didn't even give him time to think about the small romantic action before you dragged him up and to his door.

what you weren't expecting as you opened the door was the sight of 8 boys toppling over each other. yujin let out a whine at their antics, "were you guys listening to our whole conversation?" he exclaimed, not even that surprised that they would do such a thing.

"pffft no way! we were just,"gyuvin glanced around the hallway, "uhm," his voice lowered to a whisper, "gunwook help me out."

gunwook perked up, straightening out his tshirt, "we were just expecting the door hinges," he said nonchalantly, "one of them has been squeaking and we were trying to see which one it was." he came up with the excuse so quickly and with such confidence that you almost believed him.

you both laughed as you shook your head and walked past the group of boys, making your way to the kitchen, "you might wanna get used to stuff like that, especially since you'll probably be coming over more." yujin smiled as he grabbed your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"don't worry yujin, you're worth it."

[slasherslittlesimp]

Deeper Than The Darkest Depths (Twilight X M!Triton!Reader)

Part Two

Your still unconscious form lays across Sam's kitchen table, chest exposed and heavily bleeding, the blood seeping down your sides and onto the wood. Sam watches with a clenched jaw as Emily rushes about, gathering what few medical supplies they have in order to tend to your wounds.

As he watches her, he can't help but to mentally curse the Cullen's for disappearing. His wife isn't equipped for this type of stuff but Carlisle is. Despite hating them, Sam knows that your chances of healing would be greater with the leech treating you. Unfortunately, his only option is Emily who looks beyond stressed as she tries her best to clean the blood from your torso.

Bella stands on the other side of the kitchen, watching with wide eyes, looking a bit pale at the sight of all the blood painting your body crimson. She clings onto Jacobs arm, unable to look away even as Emily begins to stitch the jagged cuts closed. Her grip on Jacob's arm tightens even further as she swallows the lump in her throat. "Do you think it was him?" Her voice comes out in a shaky whisper.

"It's possible." Jacob shrugs. "They found him on the beach. It'd certainly line up with what you saw."

"If it was him..." Bella frowns as she thinks about it, the reality sinking in as she stares at the bleeding gashes across your chest. "Then that means he got hurt saving me. It's my fault he's bleeding out on Sam's table."

"It's not your fault." Sam immediately speaks up as he turns his gaze towards Bella. "He's the one that chose to help- if he's the one that saved you. And the injury is the leeches fault, nobody else's." He pauses, looking back towards you as his wife works diligently to stop the bleeding. His jaw clenches, his thoughts running a mile a minute as he looks over your human-like appearance while his thoughts conjure up the version of yourself that he first saw. "I need to make some calls."

Exiting the home, he strides a few yards away from the porch before pulling out his phone to call one of the elders. It rings a few times before the person on the other end finally answers- Billy. "What can I do for you?" The older man immediately questions, knowing that Sam wouldn't call unless it was important.

"I have a few questions that I'm hoping you have answers to." When Billy tells him to go on, he continues. "I came across something today that I've never seen before. It was a man unconscious on the beach, but he had the features of a fish- gills and all. Have you heard of anything like that?"

Billy sighs on the other end. "Not a whole lot. It's mostly just folk tales and speculations from the ancestors. Nothing to indicate if any of them actually saw anything like that. Let me grab one of the journals real quick."

The line goes silent for a few moments, leaving Sam to pace his yard as he waits not so patiently for him to come back. The second he hears Billy's breath on the other end he straightens up, giving his full attention to the older man. "Only one of the journals has ever mentioned creatures from the sea. It's one of the oldest journals from the original ancestors so the writings a bit faded but I can make out a good amount of it."

The sound of pages turning comes through the line before Billy continues. "There's a few different creatures listed, all of which come from water. A lot of the details are worn, but I think what you described might be a Triton. They're male sea gods or spirits, often depicted with a fish tail. That sound about right?"

"Yeah, that describes it pretty well." Sam nods along, remembering the form he first saw you in. You certainly did have the fish of a tail up until it was replaced with legs. "What else does it say?"

"Not much." Billy grumbles, clearly displeased at the lack of information. "Just that they're protectors of the sea and that they're stronger than the average human. Sorry, but that's about it."

"That's alright. Thanks for your help, Billy." Sam hangs up with a heavy sigh, running his hand tiredly over his face before turning to head back inside.

As he reenters the house, he finds his kitchen table cleared and clean, Emily just having finished wiping it free of your blood. "He's been moved to the couch for now." She explains to him. "It's a bit strange, though. Once I managed to get all the blood cleaned off of him, his injuries didn't seem all that bad. As if they had already started healing."

"Really?" Sam hums with interest as he peaks into the living room, spotting your still unconscious form spread across his couch, fresh bandages wrapped around your torso and a pair of his sweatpants covering your lower half.

"I had the boys move and change him." Emily comes up, standing next to her husband as she leans against him, him automatically wrapping an arm around her. "Any idea what you're going to do with him once he wakes up?"

"If he's not hostile, then hopefully I can ask him some questions. I called Billy but he couldn't tell me a whole lot. Guess none of the ancestors actually came across his kind before."

She hums with interest. "Well, I hope he wakes up soon. I'd love to be one of the first to know more about his kind."

Sam simply chuckles, turning his head to press a kiss to her hairline. "We'll see. If he's hostile when he wakes up then I don't want you anywhere near him. For now, we should get to bed. I'll have one of the boys keep an eye on him."

With that, the two of them head to bed, leaving the boys to take shifts watching over you. And first up is Paul.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations

Last month I did an in-depth re-watch of rottmnt s1 to take some notes on writing the characters of rise from their perspective and such. Figured I'd share what I found, but I'm also posting this bc my docs have a nasty habit of blipping out of existence.

We'll start with Raph bc he's the oldest of course, but I'll post the others sep. bc this is gonna get long!!

Raph Character Notes

Language Habits:

Catchphrases: "like a boss", "smash"

Verbalizes his attacks such as "smash", "knuckle sandwich", "power smash jitsu", "tonfa power jitsu", "mystic punch jitsu"

Uses older song titles for surprised exclamations or in place of cursing, most notably "jumping jack flash!"

Uses aave/bae, For example: 'em instead of them, 'ey instead of they, 'cause instead of because, forgoes the g in ing words (going becomes goin')

Uses less and less grammar the more he's stressed, and his voice will come to a higher pitch

Will speak in a softer tone to his little brothers if he's concerned about hurting their feelings. Aka babying them

Mixes up both metaphors and idioms. Would be one to say how the turn tables unironically

Does say "hero" a lot, lost count, especially in phrases like "hero town"

Refers to his brothers as "boys" or "fellas"

Refers to Splinter as "pop(s)" most often

Refers to strangers he's directly talking to as "bubs" or "hoss"

Personality:

Protective of his family

Plays up the hero act/has a strong sense of duty and justice

Impatient, rushes in without a plan (pre-movie), doesn't finish books until the end, falls asleep during "boring movies"

Oblivious, doesn't read into things beyond surface level. Struggles with empathy when something is beyond his understanding, but is still very emotional

Center of responsibility for his brothers, but also has a reckless sense of fun. As long as it's him doing the stupid unsafe thing it's fine

Carries the weight, in a literal sense he piggy backs his brothers, but will also use his body as a shield from danger. Unfortunately this also means he takes his brothers a little less seriously (Mikey the most common victim), and will try and either protect them from everything or as an oldest sibling everything has go "his way"

Doesn't do well in solitude. Needs to be looking after people to feel functional, and needs to be around people to feel safe

Clumsy, "takes horrible pictures", isn't very good at hiding, he's a big guy so it probably took a lot of time to find balance

A sweet guy who still won't shy from making fun of his family. Leo tends to be the brunt of his teasing since he is the most annoying, but he will also poke Donnie on his dramatics

Likes cute things!!! Has a teddy bear collection and loves animals. It's so cool how this isn't played off as a joke and he's still just as masculine for liking pink and cutesy stuff

Likes fighting!!! Gets a lot of energy out defeating bad guys (where he directs his anger towards), the one who is shown to train the most, and also weight lifts in his spare time

Doesn't do well under pressure, here the anger comes out the most. He gets stressed when it's all on him, especially since he tends to mess up the most in these moments

Miscellaneous:

Second to unlock mystic powers

Nicknames/codenames: "raph-a-doodle" by leo, "red rover" by april, "red king" by donnie

Teddy bear names: Doctor Huggenstein, Captain Snuggles, Cheech

Stinks: fear stink, amazement stink, sneaking up on people stink, victory stink

Seems to be less afraid of rabbits and more afraid of puppets

Went on his first solo mission at 13

Cannot lift a bus, at age 15

Thought about discussing fighting style, but I'm not as familiar with that concept and I've seen a couple posts dissecting such topic. So we'll end here for now. Hope this was helpful!!! I'll post the rest of the boys later and link here

Leo is up!!

Donnie is up!!

Mikey is up!!

Splinter is up!!

April is up!!

Cassandra is up!!

Baron Draxum is up!!

[slimyalienfreak]

Heya! I was wondering if you could make a lil fanfic of shadow the hedgehog and mobian!reader

where the reader has a fascination with death and everything morbid due to seeing and being in lots of tragedies and shadow is mostly unaware of this but finally starts noticing the reader’s obsessive like fascination with death and wants to confront them about it

Shadow With A Mobian!Reader Who Has A Fascination With Death

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Sorry it took kinda long to do this. Honestly kind of lost motivation to write stuff lately but I think it’s coming back. I don’t know. Regardless, I hope you like it.

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️Mentions Of Death + Suicide (Not Actually Committing But Talks About Wanting To) + Spoilers For Shadow’s Backstory⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Shadow + Mention Of Maria

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by CoffeeBearSama on Twitter/X + Banner by salintvll (Edited by me) on Pinterest

———————————

- Honestly at first Shadow never noticed or asked about your obsession when it comes to death. He’s quite the loner so he doesn’t really indulge in anyone or their personal interests. That’s just what he’s like. Not that he’s completely dismissive of any of your interests, it's just his response to you telling him or him hearing about it is just ‘okay’. Maybe you could persuade him to join in but it may take a while but he does partake in it.

- Though eventually he does notice your interest in death. He might have heard it from someone else, maybe from you or he just so happened to discover it himself. At first admittedly he was a bit put off by it not outright it’s just he’s never really seen someone even remotely interested in death unless they’re willingly want to experience it. And to be honest even before he discovers how obsessed you were with it he’s still a little concerned that you want to end yourself so he decides to keep a close eye on you in case you actually do want to end yourself.

- However, his worry does become way worse when he slowly discovers how obsessed you actually were with it. He started to notice how you talked about it. The fact you were talking about it so casually, talking in depth about it makes him more concerned than when he discovered it. In his own way he’s genuinely worried about you. I feel like this kind of evolved from what happened to Maria that he feels compelled to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else especially if he’s somewhat close with you.

- When he does confront you about it you may have to spend most of your time convincing him that you're okay. Honestly with the way you're talking about it he’s thinking you genuinely want to end yourself and he doesn’t want that. To him you’ve still got a lot to live for and you shouldn’t cut it short. It probably took a while for him to be convinced that you were alright. You’d probably have to explain how you gained interest in it, more specifically the shit you had to go through which made you like this.

- When you do tell him about the horrible tragedies that’s when it hits him about your obsessive fascination with death. Now he understands why you're like this. He does feel bad for you for experiencing the things you did and thinks that it must be a coping mechanism for you in a way. Even with you convincing him that it's genuinely an interest nothing more he’d still be concerned for you and tell you that if you ever need to talk he’d be there for you and listen to what you need to say.

- I do kind of feel like Shadow would be kind of interested in a way. Not like how you are, I have a feeling it’s mostly for confirmation or reassurance. It’s not that big of a surprise that he’s greatly affected by the death of Maria, someone who he’s undoubtedly the closest with. Even if a lot of time has gone by since it deep down even if he doesn’t want to admit it he still wishes that she was still alive and misses her greatly. With your interest in death he may go up to you and ask about it. He really would like your opinion about it though at first not going in that great detail about it. Even though he claims he is not interested in it he kind of wants confirmation that she’d be alright and is proud of him.

- Oddly enough, having these talks with you is very comforting for him. He finds himself being more calm about his feelings when it comes to death himself. I think the fact that he doesn’t have to bottle them up like he usually does and is free to just let it out. As soon as he’s done ranting he can feel himself just relax as he thanks you for letting him talk about it. He likes having these moments with you and he really appreciates you listening to him and the other way round.

———————————

[celestialmazer]

Shout out 🍻 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🤝🇮🇪

Will ye go, lassie, go?/Wild Mountain Thyme/Purple Heather/The Braes of Balquhidder - Robert Tannahill/Francis McPeake/Robert Archibald Smith

With Scots language subtitles - https://youtu.be/U4amVK3NL3w?

Full article below

Sinners Star Jack O’Connell on Playing an Irish-Dancing Vampire in Ryan Coogler’s Hit Film

“We just threw it down and started jigging.”

by Claire Valentine McCartney April 29, 2025

Spoilers ahead for Sinners.

For the first hour of Sinners, the Southern Gothic blockbuster from Black Panther director Ryan Coogler, you’d be forgiven for forgetting that the Michael B. Jordan-starring film is billed as a horror-action flick. Coogler dedicates such care to building the intricate world of the first half of the story (which is set over one 24-hour period in 1932 Mississippi) that when Jack O’Connell’s Irish vampire, Remmick, first appears onscreen—his bare skin smoking and peeling as a group of Native Americans chase him away—it’s a jolt. When he shows up a second time, politely asking to join a party at the Jordan-played twins’ freshly opened juke joint, it’s a marker that the film’s genre and tone are about to shift. And indeed, all hell breaks loose into a cataclysmic bloodbath.

O’Connell, 34, has been a cult-favorite actor since his days on beloved U.K. teen drama Skins. In Sinners, he plays the grinning Remmick with a charismatic edge. Although his character is a ravenous vampire seeking to turn the entire town into fellow undead (and steal their memories, talents, and music in the process), in the context of the viciously racist Jim Crow world the film is set in, where the Klu Klux Klan still runs free and violence waits in the shadows—Remmick offers a false but alluring post-racial utopia to his would-be prey. As an Irishman turned into a vampire before he arrived in America, Remmick seems to view race from the viewpoint of a disenfranchised outsider, rather than in the literal black-and-white terms the characters are otherwise boxed into. It’s an interesting dynamic that O’Connell says was already “all on the page” when he first received the Sinners script.

“Instantly, you could tell that Remmick was very well-written, with a lot of depth,” he tells W. “When you’re offered that, it’s a great starting point.” British-born with an Irish father, O’Connell was uniquely prepared for the role, which includes a climactic Irish step dance to the classic 19th-century folk song “Rocky Road to Dublin.” Below, O’Connell talks working with Coogler, getting back into his step dancing groove, and the next horror roles he already has lined up:

How does the huge reception to Sinners feel? It’s the number-one movie in America right now.

It’s massively rewarding to think that it’s gone down how we’d hoped. You just never know. Ryan Coogler is just a fucking brilliant filmmaker, so I’m just buzzing for everyone—but mainly for Ryan.

What did you think when you first read the script?

Obviously, I wanted to know about “Rocky Road to Dublin” and what that was doing within this piece. I wanted to know about the Irish dance, and I was massively surprised to find out that Ryan was going to try and do the genuine, traditional Irish stuff. He caught me off guard. But once I knew that he was down for the real deal, I thought, “Count me in.” It suddenly made sense.

Sinners goes deep on the history of Black American music and its ties to other cultures, like “Rocky Road to Dublin.” Is that something you and Coogler talked about?

We spoke about it quite a lot. It’s about the sharing of ancient cultures and customs, be it within music or within language. It’s that migration of people, and the similarities between them. It’s impossible to put a precise start date on these cultures sharing things, but more recently and more localized for us would be the melting pot that was within the South, with African peoples, Irish and Scottish peoples, Europeans—all of them bringing these ancient forms and traditions with them.

Remmick hints at his life in Ireland before he was turned. Did you create a backstory for him?

If I can lay claim to bringing anything to the party, it was “Go Lassie,” one of the ballads. It’s a Scottish song, the second song you hear the trio singing. That’s pretty much the only thing I invented. Everything else was on the page—that’s all Ryan.

How did you prepare for the big Irish dance scene in the middle of the film?

The dance was one of the first things I started preparing, mainly out of nerves and fear of getting it wrong. I used to do [Irish dance] as a kid, but that was nearly 30 years ago, so it felt a little out of my comfort zone. I teamed up with Angela O’Connor with the Academy of Irish Dance in London. We rented a space and just threw it down and started jigging. It was cool, man. She also choreographed something for that dance scene, and the timing of “Rocky Road to Dublin” is quite uncommon, the way the tempo is structured. So she had to wrap her head around that.

What was that day like on set?

It was a really transcendental experience. We’d done the outdoor section of that amazing one-shot journey through music, starting with Sammie’s song. Then the second half of the night, we got to “Rocky Road.” It was crazy. Everyone had their makeup and attire on, and the music was playing, and everyone was happy, and there was a real, eminent joy we felt. And then the sun came up, and we all had to stop, just like our vampires. We all had to go home and get some rest. It was really mind-blowing, life imitating art.

You had to wear quite a lot of prosthetics. Did that help you get into character?

Yes—the application of them can be a bit trying, with the contact lenses, and stuff going in and out of your mouth, things attached to your fingers. But once you surrender to it, things reveal themselves to you. Details make themselves apparent, and it can really help the character evolve.

There’s a lot of symbolism in the film, and Remmick’s character seems like a pretty clear metaphor for cultural appropriation and exploitation. What did you make of what he symbolizes, and did that affect how you played the character?

I’m probably going to take Ryan’s lead and just kind of agree that any metaphor within the story is in the eye of the beholder. As an actor and an artist, I’m always looking for hidden meanings and intellectual answers, so that’s not to say that they’re not deliberately put there. I definitely had my takes. But they’re so open to interpretation, and I respect Ryan for not really wanting to be too explicit about it.

You have the horror films 28 Years Later and its sequel, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple coming up next. What makes you drawn to this genre?

It’s zombies, rage, apocalypse—we’ve got it all in there. But the genre is just coincidental. Filmmakersare what draw me. To go from Ryan Coogler’s set straight to Danny Boyle, I was just pinching myself. And then onto the Nia DaCosta set [for the sequel], it was a dream come true.

[fear-is-truth]

What do you think would happen during a movie night with the Evans? I mean in a "what would you watch?" and "what would be the general reactions to the movie?" way, not a "would you fuck on the couch?" kind of way.

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans x movie date .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ james march ‧ kai anderson ‧ austin sommers ‧ luke cooper

a/n: thank you for the req !! i love movies (ty for clarifying too lol) warnings — murder mention

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate would definitely pick something horror-centric, like the blair witch project, pet sematary, night of the living dead, or the exorcist.

as the movie progresses, he’d be pretty quiet, watching you more than the screen.

won’t forget to drop morbid little comments that makes him sound like a complete sociopath.

the second you show the slightest sign of fear, tate is on full alert. it’s like a switch flips. he might still tease you a little, like “don’t tell me you’re scared of that,”

if you flinch or jump, it’s his cue to wrap you up in his arms, assuring you the scary stuff isn’t real. in some kind of fucked-up way, it’s almost like he enjoys seeing you vulnerable, but only bc he wants to protect you from the scary stuff.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would definitely lean toward the hopeful, heartwarming side of things. think shawshank redemption or green book that’s got that feel-good vibe, something that makes you believe in the good of people. he’d also want to watch something uplifting, like the pursuit of happiness or forrest gump—movies where the character fights through adversity and comes out on top.

you’d have a big bowl of popcorn to go with the movie. and a few blankets.

he would be super involved. probably a little emotional, especially with movies that tug at his heartstrings. “this part always gets me,” he’d admit, wiping his eyes discreetly if he got too caught up in the feels.

post-movie, he’d want to discuss the themes and characters. “you see how they never gave up hope? that’s the kind of message we all need.”

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

frat!kyle’s movie taste would likely be a mix of blockbuster sci-fi and superhero films. he likes action, adventure, the sort of movies you can quote with your friends or wear merch to.

i think he’d like franchises like star wars, indiana jones, jurassic park, the avengers, men in black etc.

lots of cuddling.

⟢ franken .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

something light and nostalgic like a studio ghibli movie. like ponyo or my neighbor totoro.

(because im the writer and i said so. )

he’d make it cozy with lots of blankets and snacks. the whole vibe would be super comfy. kyle would be super focused the movie, glancing over at you every now and then to make sure you’re having a good time as well.

when something cute or magical happens in the film, you’d hear his soft “aww” or “look at that,” because he gets genuinely excited.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

james wouldn’t actively seek out movies, sneering about how they lack the depth and refinement of true art forms like poetry or opera.

he’d explicitly detest hollywood, finding it gaudy and tasteless, particularly because of his ex-wife elizabeth’s infatuation with rudolph valentino.

however, if you wanted to watch something, he’d grudgingly agree, more for your sake than his own. his curiosity would be piqued by gory horror films—saw, hostel, or the texas chainsaw massacre.

as the movie progressed and the gore got more creative, his interest would visibly pique. he’d lean forward, eyes narrowing, as if studying the screen like a scholar. might even occasionally pause the movie to dissect a particularly inventive murder, speculating about the tools used or admiring the “execution” (pun intended)

the intricate methods of destruction would catch his interest. he’d remark about the “artistry” of a scene involving a particularly gruesome demise and might even murmur under his breath about how the filmmakers had some semblance of vision after all.

“ah, see how the arterial spray creates that beautiful arc on the wall?” or “the creativity in dismemberment is… admirable,”

he’d almost certainly take mental notes, planning to incorporate some of these techniques into his own macabre masterpieces.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would pick something like the social network, the matrix, fight club, or american psycho. we’re talking straight-up incel film bro material.

kai wouldn’t just watch the movie—he’d analyse the hell out of it. he’s the guy who makes watching movies an intellectual exercise but secretly just wants you to agree with him.

would definitely test you during the film, asking, “do you get it?” or “what would you do in this situation?”

the matrix? he’s mansplaining about the red pill and how people are blind sheep in the “system.” the social network? he’s cackling when eduardo gets screwed over by zuckerberg, saying, “he deserved it for being soft.” american psycho? he’d call it a critique of society.

he’d be so obnoxious during fight club, quoting lines like, “the things you own, own you,” and trying to explain to you how it applies to your life.

he’d fw tyler durden HEAVY. unironically.

⟢ 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

the three-time tony award winner would gravitate toward films that scream high art—think something like the seventh seal by ingmar bergman or 8½ by fellini—stuff that almost feel like a performance or a commentary on cinema itself.

old-school classics, like citizen kane or the godfather—the ones that’ve stood the test of time. they’ve got that “cinematic art” thing that makes him feel like he’s part of some exclusive club.

if it’s a more recent flick, though, it’s gotta have substance. i think he’d enjoy black swan because it’s dark, intense, and shows true artistic struggle.

he’d admire the actors, the cinematography, whatever gives off that “artsy” vibe. if it’s too mainstream or shallow, though, forget about it. he’s not wasting his time on that.

even during the movie, he’d find ways to bring up the “black pill”. “this is why creative people—real artists—need something more than just hard work. black pill, that’s the real key to unlocking that next level of creativity.”

⟢ 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑.

luke would still call citizen kane his favourite movie, but not in a pretentious film snob way—he’s genuinely proud of himself for loving a “classic.” he’d talk about how his grandpa introduced it to him as a kid, and how it gave him the revelation that movies could be more than just entertainment.

his other favourite is the boondock saints, which he doesn’t try to justify with highbrow reasoning.

during movie nights, luke would occasionally point out a few obscure behind-the-scenes facts only because he couldn’t help himself, but otherwise let you watch in peace.

would 100% use the “resting his arm and casually drapes around your shoulder” tactic.

[rawbin-hsr]

Hiiiiii!! Ehmm are your requests open? If they are, could you share your thoughts about aventurine NSFW headcanons in a romantic relationship? Hope I'm not asking for too much. If you don't want to no worries!! just ignore me hehe. Still, i wanted to tell you that I really love how you write aventurine, you made me wanna listen to all his voice lines again lmao. Anyway sorry for my english, it's not my mother tongue, and have a nice day!

A/N: Ok so I decided to separate this hc into two parts (both parts are in this post just a little separated !!) because half of it is me kinda digging into his brain a little with more general stuff and the other is just more specific kinks and scenarios and stuff like that for people who are only here for the freakiness *smirks* Didn’t go in depth about anything here but feel free to send in another ask if you want me to dig deeper into something more specific 🐺

I had penis-haver reader in mind, but nothing specific is stated so reader is technically gender neutral !!

─ ⊹ ⊱꒰☆꒱⊰ ⊹ ─

CWs first section: Self destructive tendencies, mentions of hard kinks (not enacted), Aventurine not setting up proper sexual boundaries, switch Aventurine but I focus on when he subs

CWs last section: lingerie (for both Aventurine and reader), sex toys, semi-public sex, phone sex, overstimulation

Only slight aftercare mentions because any deeper digging into that will get sad real quick and I kinda wanted to keep this as not-sad as possible, but I’d be happy to talk more about it in another ask !!

─ ⊹ ⊱꒰☆꒱⊰ ⊹ ─

Like most people I think Aventurine is pretty open to a lot of things, but I think he also has a lot of hard limits and a lot of boundaries he hasn’t really thought about himself yet

Hard limits include hurting you, you hurting him, anything with leather, anything that makes either of you bleed, most types of bondage (esp handcuffs), any roleplay that put either of you in a position of authority over the other

(These are limits you discover a little into the relationship, because at the beginning, Aventurine claims he’s okay with everything and he would keep claiming that if he wasn’t in a very loving and stable relationship. He only feels comfortable establishing those boundaries when you’ve made it clear it’s safe to do so. 🙁)

Idk if you want me to go in depth about those hard limits because I have Thoughts about all of them but I’m assuming you want to get your freak on so I won’t go into too much detail about it, if anyone wants me to elaborate on it though feel free to send in an ask !!

I think a really big downside with him is he doesn’t really know himself how far these limits go and he doesn’t always communicate about it either. Like he’ll think light spanking is fine but then you’ll notice he kind of freezes up if you go for it during sex and after he’ll only admit he didn’t like it if you kind of push him to 😭

I think he’s a switch. I hate to say this because I know it plays into the fandom’s tendency of like,, further feminising and sexualising effeminate men and making them “bottoms” and all that but I do think he has a sort of sub lean. Or like power bottom sort of ? A brat basically. It makes me feel kind of gross to call him by these terms considering what the fandom likes to do to him but I’m using it as shorthand forgive me 💀

Or maybe I’m projecting because I have Issues and will only ever read and write dom reader idk

Like I think he likes having control, but with a partner he genuinely loves, he finds so much comfort in sort of just falling back and letting you take the lead. It’s a nice break because in his day-to-day life, he either needs to be in perfect control constantly or, when he does lose control, it’s never something good and/or a sort of loss of control he purposely takes to in order to punish himself (like when he gambles. Sure there’s a good chance he’ll win, but can he be sure? He’s always afraid he’ll lose. It’s ultimately out of his hands, since he doesn’t cheat). With you, he’s safe when he does it. It is not a gamble, it is not a bet. You unquestioningly just take care of him and it just feels nice. 

At the same time, I think he won’t be as eager to let you lead at the beginning of your relationship. He doesn’t fully trust you so he won’t leave himself as vulnerable to you. Again, I think he has a lot of issues with control and power so that really plays into it. 

(Please god don’t take this as me saying that Aventurine is ‘naturally submissive’ or some weird shit like that I will ACTUALLY shoot myself !!!! I will commit I’ll do it !!!!!!)

I imagine his libido is pretty low in the beginning. He’ll go whenever you want to, sure, but he doesn’t initiate a lot. 

Quickly changes when he grows comfortable with you though. Once he actually really does love you he’d be more than happy to go like once a day or something wild like that he’s like an animal in heat for you dawg 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

Happy to go at your pace though, because I really really don’t think sex is that important to him. I think he’d prefer to have sex (in the beginning because it’s exciting, and then once you two are closer it’s because the intimacy is nice), but I don’t think it would be a dealbreaker at all if you don’t wanna have sex much/at all. He’s got a hand lol

Freaky part below 😈 ngh

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I think he definitely prefers having more ‘playful’ sex most of the time. Passionate and exciting and high-energy, lots of flirting while you’re doing it too <3

I bet he’s so annoying bru teasing you and purposely saying things to get you riled up with a stupid cocky grin on his face 😒 I need him sooo bad

Enjoys dressing up sexy for you and enjoys it even more when you do it back for him. I knowww everyone says this but he’d love to buy you lingerie as random gifts every now and then. 

Loves toys. Whether you’re using them on him or he’s using them on you he’s game 😇 Fun way to switch things up !!

Ngh imagine using a vibrator on him,,, drooling,,,,,,,, anyways

Not above semi-public sex, but only when there’s barely any risk of really getting caught. Things typical for fanfiction LMAO like getting it on in a janitor’s closet. Just gotta be quiet and it should be safe, since the door’s got a lock.

Lotsss of phone sex for sure. Guy’s away a lot of the time, so if you’re okay with it he’s definitely not above sending/asking for nudes. Has a bad habit of calling you with little to no warning while he’s in the middle of masturbating too. 

Panting into the receiver, saying he needs you, begging you to talk him through it. Happy to switch to a video call if you ask for it. Super good at it too, getting the best angles and everything (unless he’s getting so desperate he doesn’t have the mind to remember things like that <3)

Doesn’t like edging LMAO he’s too impatient for that. Except every now and then and ngh it’s so rewarding once he does want it he gets soo needy so quick

Bet he enjoys overstimulation too,,, somebody put me in a mental hospital the image of him sooo fucked out he’s whimpering and drooling and mindlessly rutting up against you,,,,,,, shoot me like actually

Would fall asleep so quick after that. Barely even awake enough to put on his pyjamas after ugh he’s so cute :((

Would probably not want to wear it after anyways he likes the feeling of your bare skin against his own I bet

Make sure to cuddle and reassure him lots after you have sex tho he’ll need it. Getting him a bath and a meal wouldn’t be bad ideas either

Super sorry about how short this was I definitely think he has a lot more turn-ons and stuff that I just forgot to write here but I’m very bad at answering such broad questions my bad 😞😞 Feel free to send in more asks asking about more specific things !!!