#hits all of his public persona

[daisiesonafield-blog]

A

[todayisafridaynight]

THIS IS GONNA SOUND SO MEAN BUT WHY DO U LIKE RYO AOKI/MASATO

masato hot

[fakeicecubes]

Each and every one of the members of the Batfam have some sort of “brucie” persona going on.

Dick becomes “Rickey” and turns into a mindless himbo. Everyone hits on him and he��s basically like a mini Brucie. Craziest thing he’s done as Rickey- knocked down a 6 foot tall champagne tower and no one got mad. 

Tim has been working on his persona since he was about 12. He realized what Bruce was doing one time and started to follow his lead before he even became Robin. Tim becomes brainless but still somehow still manages to make the rudest comments. No one really brings that up though because well the kid dropped out of high school. Obviously he isn’t the smartest, the kid just doesn’t understand what he’s saying. Craziest thing he’s done- threatened Lex Luther to keep his gadgets in Metropolis in front of Clark Kent and Lois Lane.

Jason doesn’t go to galas let’s be so real. Even when he did when he was younger, Jason was so sweet to everyone. It wasn’t even an act he was just happy to eat all the fancy party food. Craziest thing he did as a kid- someone once accused him of stealing a purse, Jason gave them the puppy dog eyes and they were taking it back.

Steph just turns her regular personality up to ten. The upper class is afraid of her because they think that’s just how she is all the time. Whenever she does something outrageous at a party they give Bruce looks of pity because she must do this all the time. Craziest thing she’s done- pulled a toupee clean off a guys head. She then proceeded to throw it in the chocolate fondue machine.

The only kid who doesn’t make up a different personality to the media is Damian. This has led to many different twitter accounts that’s sole purpose is to show all the time Damian has suffered to his crazy dad/siblings. The hashtag ‘FreeDamianFromTheBullshit’ has trended every single time the Waynes make a public appearance.

[luludeluluramblings]

SugarBaby!Reader (Neglected!Bat!Sibling) x Tony Stark - Falling in Love

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Someone wanted more fluff of this and I had thoughts about it last night. Tony isn’t my favorite, but I kinda wanted to challenge myself with this and see if I could try it writing some romance.

A/N: Smalltown!Reader is still coming. Pregnant!Reader will be getting a part 2 at some point. Might post another series, the one army dreamer inspired, because why not? Gonna have sooo many WIPs. But, maybe they’ll give y’all some delight.

Warnings: GN!Reader, Mentions of bedroom activities, fluffy, not edited, hardly anything Yandere. Intended to be

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

When you and Tony started dating it had been after he had wooed you at some gala. Something for a long forgotten charity. You had initially been hesitant, knowing his play boy reputation. The one so eerily similar to your father’s Brucie Wayne persona.

Still he was charming, good looking, and had convinced you that one night wouldn’t hurt.

And, it hadn’t. The next day when you were about to crawl out of bed and begin your walk of shame, he had dragged you back. Taking his time repeating the night before and with an encore.

By the time you had finally been allowed to leave the bed, your stomach had let out an embarrassing growl that made your cooling skin flush once more.

Of course, Tony wasn’t going to let anyone he spent such a good time with go hungry. Ordering the two of you room service and a giant spread of breakfast.

It’s in that moment things start to shift. You were a good lay for Tony. A young pretty little thing that was some of the best he had had in a while. (Due to him mellowing out with age, not that he’d ever admit that.) But, it’s the way you look at him, shyly and with such genuine gratitude just for him buying to brunch that makes him stop.

Not pause. Because pause means he’ll end up playing again. And, he’s fairly certain he’s done playing. Because, when you happily sit in his button down shirt, munching on the food he bought you, and listen to him talk about an old project (he wasn’t dumb enough to share anything new he’d been working on) with such bright eyes and enthusiasm he realizes this might be trouble for him. It’s even cuter because he knows you don’t understand a single thing he’s saying, but you’re trying. You’re trying so hard and it’s so cute.

It keeps going on like that. Passionate nights and slow talkative mornings that morph into date nights and fun trips and days lounging together. You’re still honestly convinced it could all end at any moment. Nothing good last in your life. And, despite how desperately you want this to last you know it probably won’t. Still you swear to hold on. To take everything he’ll offers. Even if it’s not much and he leaves you in the end. You’re going to appreciate how full and fulfilled her makes you feel.

For you, you fall in love slow and overtime. It a soft and startling realization when you realize you love Tony. You love him dearly and he could break your heart into a million pieces. But, it would be worth it.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Loving him and waiting for him. To leave.

For Tony, it’s similar. He spoils you he does. He loves the way you look at him when he does. But, as he unknowingly starts to settle, the realization that he’s not showing you off in public as much anymore and that he enjoys just being near even when there’s nothing to talk about hits him in the chest. And, in a Tony Stark like fashion, he spirals for a bit.

It causes him to spend three full days in his lab avoiding the world and his problems. Not sleeping, hardly eating, ignoring Jarvis.

When he finally does emerge, he’s covered in sweat and grease. He aches. He’s tired. He’s irritable. His fully expecting you to be mad he missed your fancy date he had planned. But, when he looks up at you and see’s that exact same grateful look in your eyes, it clicks. You give him that same look of gratitude and adoration every time he does something for you. He’s not doing anything other than being here with you. And, that’s enough for you. You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you. And your willing to love him as his is and with what ever he gives.

Tony doesn’t confess though. To cliche. Instead he proposes. With no ring, no plan, and covered in grease. But, completely serious. It isn’t long until you understand he really means it, that he wants you for you and you’re leaping in his arms crying, yes. Yes. And the. You tell him to shower, because despite the love you feel and your happiness, he smells ripe.

He chases you around instead, before dragging you into the shower with him.

It isn’t until you both have a small private court house ceremony and he’s dragging you on to a luxury honeymoon that he leans over and confesses. Casually. Like it was a stray fact.

“Oh, hey, by the way, I love you.”

It makes you squawk that he has the audacity to do such a thing, but you lean into him and say it back.

“I love you, too… Silly old man.”

“Hey! That’s not what you were saying when I-“

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You hadn’t even thought about you family with Tony. Hadn’t thought to invite them to the wedding. You did call Alfred as soon as you got back though. Telling him the good news with so much happiness that the old Bulter cried when the call ended. You had sounded radiant, and it broke his heart.

Broke his heart that no one in the family had seen just how beautiful your joy was and that they had never bothered to cause it.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Based off this ask.

[hanasnx]

Indy! What kinks do you think Bruce would have ?

bruce wayne's kinks.

MINORS DNI 18+

! ── bondage + gags: it's a classic. tying you up and taking control from you is a huge turn on for him. if you have his complete trust, which rare ever do, you'll be able to do the same to him. unfortunately, those pretty silken ropes end up getting worn through way too quick, so you've upgraded to chains so you can ride him like a stallion. however, your headboard creaks a little more each time. when a 200+ man of pure muscle yanks on wood it splinters.

! ── edging + overstimulation + dacryphilia

! ── exhibitionism: part of his bruce wayne persona means public displays of affection are required. however, he enjoys it. getting his hands all over you where anyone could see means he elicits that cute reaction out of you where you hit him and scold him all the while his teeth are on your neck and he's groping you through your dress. the thrill of removing just enough to make sure he can get inside you makes him rip his belt open with fervor, and he's always a fan of a quickie. it's a stress reliever.

! ── breathplay: he's calculative when it comes to breathplay, but more specifically he loves putting his hand around your throat.

! ── size: he's an avid supporter. he thinks it's hot when you get all sheepish being reminded of how big and strong he is. he's got a powerful body he works day and night for, the least you can do is appreciate its every inch.

! ── food play: ever since strippers jumped out of his birthday cake in his twenties covered in frosting and edible bits that he was allowed to lick off he's had a thing for food play. at one point you feel like he's eaten entire meals off of you, he's completely nondiscriminatory when it comes to what he can lick and mouth as long as it's on you. if he's on a cheat day, he lets a scoop of ice cream melt on your skin just so he can clean you himself and watch your poor nipples pebble from the cold.

! ── impact play: chronic ass-smacker, tit-smacker less so, face-smacker even less.

! ── old school panty snatcher: if you put a pair of your used panties in his suit pocket before he goes to work he will play with it all day. stick his hand in there to meddle with the fabric between his fingers while he's talking to his board of directors with the presentation he's been preparing. he gets into the habit of inviting himself to your undergarments, and has been caught multiple times using one of your favorite pairs to jack himself off.

! ── bareback + creampies: condoms are fine he's not an idiot, but there's something about going in raw that draws him in. the extra edge of danger and the intimacy of touching the deepest parts of you bare.

! ── thigh riding: clasping your hands in his for balance while he watches you get off on his thigh. tells you it's like a personal show. he keeps those eyes trained on you with such an entertained grin it makes you whine in frustration, and that's hot too.

! ── threesomes/foursomes: he's done it all. having multiple partners is a testament to his endurance and he loves the praise, but since he's been official with you there is no room for that sort of thing and that's fine with him.

! ── light roleplay: you two have been known to throw the word "batman" around the bedroom.

! ── praise mostly very rarely a degrader

! ── daddy: as far as he's concerned, that's one of his names when it comes to you. in any context you call him that, he swells with pride. one time you visit him while he's in a meeting, not only did you turn every head in the room but when you called him "daddy" accidentally and out of pure habit, he didn't skip a beat. he glances at his companions with a knowing glint in his eye because they should be jealous that the girl they're gonna be thinking about for the rest of the day just called him daddy. he's got no shame about it.

[lockefanfic]

Polaroid

The following is Chapter 11 in the Toy series, but it can (mostly) be read on its own. 🙂

12,713 words.

---

Exhibit 1: Central is a young woman’s (Subject A) open mouth. Subject A’s lips are glossy, slick - with cherry red lipstick and a thick, semi-transparent pale white liquid. Given the contextual clues in the photo, this liquid is likely semen. More of the substance stains the lower part of her face, running down her chin in thick streams. Her exposed tongue reveals more of it coating her mouth. A thick rivulet of semen drips onto her palette from the top of the picture, where another woman’s (Subject B) lips are barely seen. The rope of semen joins the mouths of Subjects A and B.

---

It’s in the middle of it all that come to a realization: what was playing out in front of you was no longer surprising.

There was a time when seeing something so lewd, so utterly ridiculous in its depravity, would shock you. And for the first few months of your new job, when you found yourself in similar circumstances, that feeling would come without fail. Each and every day seemed to bring more and more ludicrous experiences. How could anyone not be shocked by what you saw, heard, and felt since Chaeyoung and Momo picked you out of the crowd at the concert all those months ago? 

But it was in that moment, some time past midnight, as you sat on what was probably a ludicrously expensive couch in the corner of the penthouse suite of one of the highest-end hotels in Singapore, that you realized the absence of that once-familiar feeling.

That was not to say that you weren’t aroused by the whole thing - of course not, quite the opposite in fact, if the erection you were sporting were any indication. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of seeing what you saw, hearing what you heard, feeling what you felt. Rather, you just weren’t surprised by it in the same way you used to be. It was just another day in a string of days that felt like your wildest dreams come true.

But when every day was so wild, then really, no days were wild, were they?

A sharp moan stirs you from the intense personal epiphany you were having in the corner of the hotel room. On the bed, not twenty feet from you, the third man in the room slips his cock inside Myoui Mina’s slick, dripping pussy from behind.

Mina lets her mouth slip from the stiff cock that filled it a moment before. There is a brief moment of pleasant surprise on her delicate features as she is filled, stretched, her body quickly accepting and accommodating the thick shaft that had just entered her. The moment is short, fleeting. The look of serious determination that she sported moments before returns, as does her mouth to the slick, glistening cock in front of her face.

Myoui Mina was often shy, reserved, introverted. Her public and private personas were much the same; this was a young woman who enjoyed quiet weekends at home building lego or grinding away at an MMORPG. She attended fashion weeks and other appearances like the other girls, of course, but you knew she only did so because it was in her contract, and it paid her - she had little actual interest for the clothes she was shilling or the scripted comedy she and the girls were playing out.

But during sex - and especially during sex when multiple males were involved - she was another person entirely: forceful, dominant, assertive. In control, of herself and those lucky enough to share a bed with her.

The two men who currently had that honor - you had no idea who they were and the girls had insisted that you didn’t need to worry about them - begin to fuck Mina from both ends. Her body - that slim, delicate, almost fragile body of hers, covered as it was in sweat and spit - is rocked back and forth, back and forth atop the high-end bed and the expensive-looking but already soiled sheets that covered it. Soon she settles into a rhythm, timing the movements of her body so the cock in her mouth hits the back of her throat just as the one in her cunt fills her to the hilt.

She moans around the cock between her lips. The two men grunt and sigh. Slick flesh slaps against slick flesh. Sex fills the room, pervades every moment that passes.

There was a time in your life when seeing such a sight play out in front of you was the stuff of dreams, of lonely nights with a picture, video, or smutty story from the darker parts of the internet. And here it was - playing out in real life, right in front of you. Just another sight, another memory being made to sit amongst the many hundreds that had filled the most memorable time of your life.

“Jesus, fuck,” Chaeyoung hisses. She is lying next to you on the couch, as naked as you are, watching, as she often did. She loved to watch. She loved being fucked, of course, but she loved watching others get fucked just as much, if not more - if nothing else because of what she got to do with them afterwards.

You have one arm wrapped around her shoulders. It slides down her upper chest to cup a small, round breast. She sighs as you capture her nipple, moans as you twist the piercing atop it, softly but firmly. Enough to make sure she felt it, but not enough to really hurt her. You knew well by now just how much she could take before the delicious spikes of pain became unbearable. You quickly found that she loved the pain, excited her almost as much as a kiss or touch.

You can’t exactly tear your eyes from the spectacle playing out on the bed in front of you, but out of the corner of your eye you watch the young woman in your arms begin to finger the needy flesh between her own legs. She makes no attempt to hide it, even swinging a leg out to rest over the couch’s arm, spreading herself open for her slim fingers. She moans as she finds her clit and teases the tender flesh around it with two fingertips. 

You continue teasing her nipple, your free hand finding your own cock, painfully stiff, and giving it a few strokes. She watches you do it. She hisses as she watches you touch yourself, wordless sounds of lust escaping gritted teeth. Her eyes flick back and forth between your cock and her friend being roughly spitroasted mere feet away. Her eyes are glazed, half-lidded. Hungry.

For a few long minutes the two of you sit there, touching yourselves, pleasuring yourselves to the sights and sounds playing out in front of you.

On the bed, Mina orgasms - she lets the cock in her mouth leave her lips to let a shriek of pleasure escape from between them. The man fucking her behind shudders, slowing his thrusts momentarily to relish the pulsating of her orgasming cunt around his cock. The man in front of her seems upset by the sudden loss of the woman’s mouth around him - he reaches down, grasps a handful of her dark hair, and twists her head up to look at him.

She fixates him with an intense, lustful stare - even as her orgasm makes its way through her quivering, trembling body. He grips his cock with his other hand and slaps its thick, hard meat against her soft, delicate features.

Mina smiles. Wild, playful. She even giggles a little, an innocent, pleasant sound against the obscene, perverse context. You wonder for a moment how a woman born with such a classically elegant, delicate face could appear so utterly lustful, act so wanton.

Then she slips the cock back into her mouth and the three are fucking again, the two men having their way with her, taking their pleasure, using her - even as she used them.

The entire exchange stirs something in you, makes you want more than to just sit there with your cock in your own hand - especially when there was a naked, willing, needy little thing in your arms happy to take your hand’s place.

You tear your eyes from Mina for a moment. The hand on your cock leaves it, quickly slides into Chaeyoung’s hair. The thought of pulling her onto your lap and having her ride you comes to mind, but the thought of her mouth on your cock was too strong to resist; and besides, it would ensure your view of Mina’s show would remain unobstructed. Your fingers close around a knot of the unruly blonde strands, and with little softness or consideration, you pull Chaeyoung’s face onto your cock.

Her lips part, taking you into her slick, hot mouth quickly and easily, as though she were waiting for you to do so the whole time. Within seconds she is sucking your cock, head bobbing up and down, tongue pressed against the side of your cock or swirling around your head, spit dripping freely down your length and onto your balls. Chaeyoung moans around your shaft - she is sloppy, more focused on pleasure rather than your comfort - but you weren’t one to argue with the results. You shiver with pleasure as you use her mouth, pulling her head up and down along your length as though it were a sex toy and not the mouth of one of the biggest idols in Asia. 

She has squirmed onto her side to suck your cock better, but the hand between her legs doesn’t cease in its movements, her small wrist working faster between her flushed thighs. Soon she is moaning around your cock, the vibrations of her throat feeling wonderful within the warm wetness of her mouth.

The show in front of you goes on. The man behind Mina begins to spank her as he pounds away at her juicy little cunt. The one at her head unwittingly follows your example, grasping her head with both hands as he fucks in and out of her mouth. They both up their pace, although it was difficult to tell whether it was their own choice to do so or whether Mina, despite her rather compromising position, was doing something with her body to entice them to do so. Whatever it was, the pace of the show quickens as it reaches its climax.

The hand in her hair transitions to grasping the back of Chaeyoung’s scalp, guiding her up and down, using her mouth like the needy little fucktoy it was - the perfect little fucktoy for such a show. It was so utterly unreal, so ridiculous, using her mouth the way you were, using it to get off at the sight of her best friend being spitroasted so roughly in front of you.

But it was just another day, these days. Not that the surreal regularity of it made the slick, hot little mouth wrapped around your cock feel any less amazing.

“Fuck, fuck, Mina--” the man fucking her cunt gasps. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Shit, me too-” the man at her head hisses.

“On me!” the young woman shrieks, tearing the cock in her mouth free from between her lips to shout the command. “Don’t fucking cum in me.”

“Mina, fuck,” the man hammering away at her cunt gasps, his brow tightening, the grip on her ass tightening, leaving furrows in the pale, pliant flesh. “We always used to, fuck, we always used to cum in you-”

“-fill you up,” the other man spits between gritted teeth. “Wanna cum down your throat-”

“No,” Mina snaps, adamant. “You know the rules.”

She fixates the man at her face with a look - and while you can only see her side profile even you are struck by the intensity in those usually elegant, dainty features. She turns over her shoulder and gives the man behind her the same glare.

Even when there were multiple men involved, even when she was engaged in some of the filthiest acts imaginable, Myoui Mina never seemed rattled by any of it. She had a control, a grip over her own emotions and her own body; even as she exerted that control and grip over the men that she shared a bed with. The hold was ironclad, unshakable. It made men weak, made them unable to resist her demands.

“Fuck, alright,” the man behind her hisses, defeated.

“Wanna cum on your front,” the man at her head snaps. He is desperate now, being so close to his orgasm. They both are. And they both know neither of them are really in any position to be asking for more, given how blessed they already both were.

Mina relents. For a moment the intensity in her eyes is interrupted by a soft moan of pleasure as the man fucking her cunt reaches a particularly sensitive part of her. “Fine then,” she says, the words half-moan. “Fucking cum on me.”

The two men leave her body. Spit tumbles from her mouth, pre-cum and her juices drip from the splayed lips of her cunt. She turns around on the bed until she is lying on it.

“Paint me.”

The two men waste no time. Their hands find their needy cocks, and soon they are stroking themselves off to the sight of the beautiful young woman on the bed between them - naked, sweaty, dripping spit and sweat and cunt juices onto the soft cotton sheets beneath her. She squirms and writhes on the bed as she awaits their cum. 

Her hands wander her own body, tracing paths up her tight, toned midsection and squeezing a small, firm breast, or wandering between her splayed thighs, index and ring finger spreading apart the slick lips of her own pussy, middle finger finding and teasing her needy little clit. She is moaning throughout it all, little wordless sighs of pleasure as she touches herself.

The two men cum - they paint with the most lewd materials known to man, on one of the most beautiful canvases in existence. They leave their thick, warm semen on her body in long, heavy streaks, on her toned abs, her small breasts, the elegant features of her face, twisted in perverse joy at being debased the way she was.

She sighs and moans as they cum on her, each rope of semen seeming to incite a new spike of pleasure in her body until she too is cumming again, orgasming at the feel and sight and sound of two men stroking themselves, pleasuring themselves to her, leaving their cum on her. Staining her. Sullying her perfect image, turning the perfect lady into a dirty little cum-stained thing.

You cum too. How could you not? The sight of what had just happened in front of you was enough, never mind the feel of Chaeyoung’s slick tongue, hot mouth, and full lips wrapped around your cock.

Your hands pull the young Korean woman’s face down to the base of your shaft. You feel her gag around the hard, spasming shaft filling her mouth with semen. She manages not to rip her mouth from you, even if she could somehow fight the fingers woven through her hair, holding her skull fast against your crotch. 

The fear of hurting her that you once had from earlier in your time as her toy didn’t come up this time. She knew how to suck a cock - you knew that well. She knew how to take a load down that skilled throat of hers.

Eventually, some indeterminate amount of time later when your hands finally release their grip on her scalp, she manages to slip off your shaft. She raises her head, and her features are flushed, her hair frazzled, eyes half-lidded and still heavy with pleasure - a mess, but a satisfied one. From the corner of her mouth, a rivulet of glistening cum drips from her lips, but they remain sealed, keeping most of your warm load within. Her cheeks are fuller, and the thought of what she held within them drives you crazy.

She picks something up from the end table flanking the couch and presses it into your hand, something large and plastic. It takes you a moment to rip your eyes from the utterly erotic sight of your cum dripping down Chaeyoung’s chin, but when you do, you realize the object in your hands is a Polaroid camera.

Without further word she leaves the couch and approaches the filthy, cum-stained form of her best friend sprawled atop the bed. Mina welcomes her with open arms in a gesture that seems oddly intimate, oddly loving. There is a warm smile on her slick lips. The younger woman crawls atop the bed on all fours until she is perched atop it, face inches from that of her friend.

Mina opens her mouth. Chaeyoung opens hers. 

By some miracle, the camera viewfinder finds its way to your eye. You frame the shot. Your finger finds the shutter button as your thick, white semen drips from Chaeyoung’s mouth onto Mina’s waiting tongue.

Snap.

---

Exhibit 2: A woman’s (Subject B) pelvis dominates the frame. She is wearing a one-piece swimsuit, the crotch of which is pulled to the side. She is on her back, her legs spread apart, and a male’s erect penis (Subject C) is embedded to the base within her. Subjects are mid-coitus. 

Exhibit 3: In the lower third of the picture are two women (Subjects A and B), seated on what appears to be a poolside deck chair, facing the camera. The background is blurry and unrecognizable but appears to be natural or decorative foliage. The two women are wearing swimsuits and sunglasses. Subject A is presumably wearing a two-piece bikini, although only the top is visible, her lower half concealed by a white beach towel. Subject B is wearing a one-piece swimsuit.

--- 

“They’re old toys from our last tour,” Mina says. She had a way of reading your thoughts and answering unasked questions - something you were thankful for in that moment, because you weren’t quite sure how to broach the topic of the two random men who’d shown up the night before, engaged in a threesome with one of the girls you were responsible for, and left without so much as a word. 

“It was my turn to pick the toys last time we were here - me and Jihyo’s turn, anyway,” she continues. “But she wasn’t in the mood - or so she says - so she let me have her pick. I picked those two.”

“Oh, okay,” you answer. “And they’re not… toys any more?”

“I still call them up whenever I’m in town and want to have some fun,” she answers, nonchalantly, as though she were referring to old work or school acquaintances and not casual sex partners that she’d just had a rather wild threesome the night before. “One of them is pretty high up at this hotel, which is how we got this fancy suite. And no, they’re not officially the group’s toys anymore.”

“And they never… y’know, got hired by the company, like we did?”

“Nope. I guess you and the others are the lucky ones. Usually toys stay in the city we picked them in, and they usually only last a couple of nights. I guess you really impressed the girls, because one or more of us must have gone directly to the boss and asked that you and the others be hired on permanently.”

“I see. And you’re not afraid that they’ll do something? That they’ll go to the media or public?”

“No,” she answers, confidently. “Because they know if they try something they won’t be getting any more of this.”

She didn’t need to specify what this was, especially when this was laid out on the deck chair of the suite’s private deck, spending the warm Singaporean afternoon sunbathing. Even in what was a relatively modest bikini and simple designer sunglasses, Myoui Mina was breathtaking.

From your sitting position on the deck chair next to her, you let your gaze linger on her slim, tight body for a moment. She adjusts herself on her chair, knowing without a doubt that you were watching every movement she made. She playfully slides one leg up on the chair, revealing a full, pale thigh before placing a hand on her knee and striking a model’s pose. Her head turns slightly to face you, and the corner of a soft pink lip curls upwards into a sly smile.

You return it, and the two of you share a small laugh. Despite being typecast as the shy, introverted ice princess she was early in her career, you were glad to see her come out of her shell a little bit in recent years, both on and off the stage.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and despite the cute moment you were sharing with Mina, you pull it out of your shorts.

“I wish you’d relax,” she says, turning away from you again with an exaggerated sigh. “This is supposed to be a vacation, remember?”

She was right - the company placed higher importance than others on making sure its artists received sufficient vacation time, and this week was one of those company-mandated weeks when no official work was to be done. Many of the girls took it upon themselves to leave Seoul for a few days; Chaeyoung had already booked the flights and had had Mina make arrangements for the hotel before you’d even had a chance to ask her what she was up to. Before you knew it she’d shown up at your door and told you you had twenty minutes to pack for a five day trip to Singapore with the two of them.

The nature of your job meant that you were never truly off work, though, and there were still the odd emails to catch up on regarding appointments and other duties for the weeks after this one. Amidst the emails are a few notifications from the group chat you shared with Buzz and Woody - Woody apparently wanted to get the three of you together for beers sometime, but with you out of the country and Buzz busy with his actual career that night out would have to wait at least until you got back.

“Sorry, Mina,” you say, sheepishly placing your phone on Do Not Disturb and placing it on the side table beside your own deck chair. “There’ve been some changes to Nayeon’s schedules next week, and the higher ups thought I should know since I’m on duty with her starting Monday.”

Mina lets a barely audible huff of air escape her nostrils at the mention of Nayeon. The friction in the group had become more apparent over the past few weeks, and the girls were surprisingly willing to let their places in the battle lines be known to everyone, including their managers.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “Didn’t mean to bring her up on purpose. Wasn’t aware that you didn’t like her.”

“No need,” Mina answers, “you’re just doing your job. Doesn’t mean I can’t hate the bitch.”

You supposed that you shouldn’t have been surprised regarding where Mina stood in the entire Nayeon versus Chaeyoung split that had fractured the girls into two opposing parties, given her close relationship to the latter. But her openness on the topic still struck you, given her usually aloof and introverted nature, particularly when it came to matters that didn’t involve plastic building blocks or fictional, virtual worlds.

“Mina, I… listen, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I’ve been wondering, like-”

“-what happened between Nayeon and Chaeyoung?” Mina finishes, again reading your mind, throwing the topic you’d been tiptoeing around out into the open. 

“Well, yeah.”

Mina crosses her arms. A frown appears on her lips. It doesn’t seem to be one of anger, but one of genuine frustration.

“I wish I knew,” she admits. “All I and the rest of the girls know is that those two have hated each other for as long as we’ve been a group - even before the Sixteen days. Whatever happened between them, it happened long before we ever took to a stage together.”

You nod along, not quite knowing how to move the topic forward. Thankfully, Mina does it for you. She’d made a habit of it lately.

“Every group of girls has its secrets, I suppose, but most of them are open ones: Tzuyu’s a virgin, but won’t be one for much longer, I think; Dahyun only sleeps with guys she has feelings for; Sana only sleeps with guys she doesn’t have feelings for; Jihyo isn’t over Da- I mean, Buzz; Momo’s carrying a torch for someone, although we haven’t quite figured out who yet; ​​Jeongyeon is in love with Nayeon; Nayeon’s an evil, cold-hearted, manipulative bitch. That last one may or may not be a secret.”

You had gotten to know the girls relatively well over the past few months, but much of what Mina had just revealed was still news to you. The girl clearly wasn’t one to keep secrets or didn’t care enough to face the consequences of spilling them - it was likely the latter. You want to press further on a few of them, but Mina continues her train of thought before you can do so.

“But the whole thing with Nayeon and Chaeyoung�� I know Chaeyoung like the back of my hand, but yeah, it’s a strict no-go zone with her. I never pushed it. Not even when we were together.”

“Wait, what? Together? You and… Chaeyoung?”

“Yeah,” Mina answers, nonchalantly, as though she weren’t just dropping a heavy truth grenade at your feet and had tossed the pin away. “For a year or so.”

“Damn. I mean, the clues were there, but…”

Mina smiles to herself. “Yeah, we kind of slipped up here and there, didn’t we? The higher ups didn’t think it was real, and they passed it off as fanservice, but we… yeah, we were a thing. Serious, too. Or rather, I was ready to make it serious, but Chaeyoung…”

“...Chaeyoung?” you prod, your curiosity temporarily overcoming any hesitation you may have had at prying into the girls’ personal lives.

“She wasn’t ready to take that next step,” Mina finishes. “When we both decided it wasn’t going anywhere, we decided to break up.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. She wasn’t ready for anything serious, I guess. I felt like there was something holding her back from taking the next step. Trauma? Fear? Who knows. I sure as hell didn’t.”

The two of you sit there in silence for a while. Mina reaches for the drink at her side table and takes a sip. She sits there for a minute or two, stirring the liquor with her straw, trying to make sense of her thoughts. You want to say something, anything, to fill the silence.

“She’s still my best friend,” Mina says, eventually, breaking the silence for you. “Not to mention a pretty hot fuck buddy. I suppose that’s not a bad consolation prize, all things considered.”

She turns to smile at you, and you return it, although you sense a little bit of sadness behind the curl of her lips. After a while she returns to stirring her drink and taking small sips out of it, while you turn your attention back to your phone, unable to find the words to continue the conversation and unwilling to pry further into what was clearly a touchy subject.

“You two look awkward as fuck,” comes a voice from the suite’s glass doors. Chaeyoung emerges from the room, a black plastic bag in one hand. She’s wearing a black one-piece strapless swimsuit beneath a skimpy pair of denim shorts - shorts she makes sure to rid herself of before joining you and Mina by the pool, leaving her long, slim legs and cute little butt bare.

“We’re just enjoying the peace and quiet without you around making all the noise,” Mina says, returning her drink to the side table before motioning with her head towards Chaeyoung’s plastic bag. “Whatcha got there?”

“More drinks,” Chaeyoung answers, taking a seat at the foot of your deck chair and pulling three green glass bottles from the bag, along with a few novelty shot glasses she must have picked up from a souvenir stand. “Oh, and some sunscreen. Don’t want the higher ups getting pissed at our precious manager here for letting us get sunburnt out on vacation.”

She tosses the tiny bottle of sunscreen in your lap. You don’t miss the suggestive look she shares with Mina.

“You go first,” Mina says, suggestively, as she opens one of the soju bottles and pours a shot into one of the glasses. “It’s my turn to watch the show.”

Chaeyoung draws close to you on your deck chair, bringing her face to within inches of yours as if to kiss you, that cute little tongue of hers darting out to flash over her lips - before, with a wicked grin, she nudges you aside with her torso and lies down on her stomach on your deck chair.

You resign yourself to your fate, shooting Mina a smirk as you take up position behind Chaeyoung, opening up the bottle of sunscreen. You straddle the back of Chaeyoung’s thighs, squirt a small amount on her upper back, and begin to spread it over her soft, creamy skin.

She purrs, not unlike a satisfied cat, as you massage the thick lotion onto her upper back and shoulders. In the deck chair next to you, Mina takes her shot of soju - but doesn’t swallow it. 

Turning onto her side, she reaches up to Chaeyoung’s cheek before kissing her deeply, passing the soju between their mouths. Chaeyoung swallows most of the alcohol, but Mina’s lips don’t leave hers - leaving a lot of the clear liquid to escape their lips and drip down their chins. 

What begins as a soft, tender kiss quickly becomes a passionate makeout session. You bite your lip at the sight. You feel yourself stiffening beneath your pool shorts, even as you continue to massage what was left of the sunscreen onto Chaeyoung’s shoulders and back.

Mina breaks the kiss momentarily, shooting you a look - and the mischievousness in her eyes is impossible to miss even behind her sunglasses. She kisses Chaeyoung again, capturing the younger girl’s lower lip between her teeth, while reaching down with a hand to her friend’s ass - and pulling the crotch of her swimsuit aside and stretching it around a perky ass cheek, revealing her naked pussy.

Chaeyoung catches on quickly to her best friend’s intention, arching her back to allow you a better look at her upraised ass and the newly revealed flesh between her thighs. She wiggles beneath you, and you take your weight off her thighs to allow her to bring her knees beneath her body, raising her ass up off the deck chair.

Without breaking their kiss, Mina undoes the ties to the lower half of her bikini before pulling it off her body, tossing it away with an exaggerated flourish. Naked from the waist down, she gives Chaeyoung a last peck on the lips before she too turns onto her stomach and brings her knees beneath her, raising her ass, bringing it next to Chaeyoung’s until they are touching at the hip.

They spend a moment there, their upraised, naked asses swaying back and forth as they smile slyly at each other and at you before sharing soft, teasing kisses with each other. You cannot help but reach forward, needing to touch, needing to feel, as though by touching them you could receive some measure of reassurance that this was all really happening and not part of some ridiculous dream. 

You squeeze Mina’s ass with your right hand and Chaeyoung’s with your left, relishing the warm softness of their skin beneath your fingers. Mina’s ass was round and full, Chaeyoung’s cute and perky - both were utterly mouthwatering in their own way, to say nothing of the warm, slick flesh that waited just beneath each pair of cheeks. You sigh to yourself, your brain a little overwhelmed with the sensations suddenly flooding it.

“Fuck me,” Chaeyoung hisses over her shoulder, finding and holding your gaze with an intense, sultry look. “Fuck her. Fuck us both.”

You’d learned by now not to question such an order or hesitate when presented with such an opportunity. You were long past the point of questioning these things as they happened to you, having transitioned fully into simply enjoying them as they came. 

To that end, your left hand leaves her ass, grasping your painfully stiff cock and bringing it to Chaeyoung’s slick, hot cunt. Your tip buries itself between the lips of her pussy, causing a soft sigh to slip from her lips at that first contact. At the same time, you bring your right hand between Mina’s thighs, slipping the tip of your middle finger between her lips. Finding her hot lips dripping, your ring finger joins your middle, your fingertips playing with the moist, slick flesh there, but not penetrating any deeper, not yet.

The girls sigh and quiver and moan beneath you, waiting, wanting. You take it all in, relish the moment - every movement of their young, tight bodies, every lustful gasp and sigh that leaves their perfect lips. 

But your self-control only lasts so long. Your hips slide forward, filling Chaeyoung to the hilt with your cock - and Mina with your fingers.

Every single time felt special, felt new. This time was no different, even if the circumstances - sex with women you’d long believed were so far beyond your reach so as to be impossible - had become routine over the past few months. 

But you never tired of it. Not when the high was so high.

Chaeyoung is tight, slick, hot. She clenches tight as you fill her for the first time, that juicy cunt of hers stretching around your shaft, making you quiver involuntarily at the feel of her body wrapping around you. Mina is similarly vice-like; despite the relative slimness of your fingers, you can still feel how much she clenches around your digits. 

You start fucking Chaeyoung, your cock pistoning in and out of her cunt at a slow but steady pace, your fingers doing the same with Mina. There was certainly a time for teasing and foreplay with the girls, but you’d learned by now when such patience and buildup was necessary, and when it wasn’t. This was one of the latter times - a time for a hard, fast fuck, for getting to the pleasure without the preamble or teasing.

Chaeyoung moans, softly, as she’s filled again and again with your cock. Mina is biting her lip, and even though her eyes are still hidden behind her sunglasses you can tell her gaze is fixed solely on her best friend’s face, watching intently as her small, cute features are twisted by the pleasure building throughout her small, tight little body.

“Fuck,” Chaeyoung gasps. “Fuck, fuck me just like that.”

Mina lets a sound slip from her lips, and even though it is wordless it sounds like agreement. Her tooth bites deeper into her lip, and you fear for a moment whether she would soon draw blood.

But the concern for Mina is fleeting; Chaeyoung’s pussy wrapped around your cock is your main focus. Your free hand clutches a small butt cheek, or her tiny waist, pulling her back toward you as your hips slam forward - the forcefulness with which you thrust into her body increasing steadily, even as your tempo and pace remained the same.

“Such a good toy,” Chaeyoung sighs. She’d always been one of the more vocal girls during sex, finding release through words the way the others found release in breathless gasps and moans. “Such a good toy for us. For me.”

“Mmmm,” Mina hums, another wordless sound of agreement. Her pussy clenches around your fingers. You find it more and more difficult to plunge your fingers in and out of her body, but you ensure your fingers are fucking her with the same pace that your cock is fucking her best friend.

You glance over at her - at that slim, pale body of hers. There was a lot to love about her - the long, graceful legs, the round, full ass, the well-toned midriff and cute pair of breasts. But it was the way it all combined with that graceful, elegant face that put her on another level; seeing it twisted and contorted with lewd desire, seeing that face become slave to her base needs - it gave you a perverse pleasure, a lewd satisfaction in corrupting something so seemingly prim and proper.

By contrast, Chaeyoung seemed built for the physical pleasures - small, tight, slim, easy to throw around and bend over and play around with. There was something about her that invited sex, something that asked to be used, to be held down and fucked - even though you knew that she equally liked being the one using, the one pouncing atop a man and using his body for her own pleasure. Something about her screamed sex, made her irresistible. Every time you had her, you felt yourself giving into it more and more completely.

Your fingers slip from Mina’s body as you feel yourself give in to your need to fuck Chaeyoung, to take her, make her yours. You up your pace, your cock pounding her now, giving her tight little cunt hard, fast thrusts.

She yelps at first at your new pace, but yelps become sighs, and then moans. Your hands pull her hips back toward you as you thrust forward, ripping more delicious sounds from the young woman’s throat, making her cute butt cheeks ripple and bounce with each impact of your hips against them. Despite the roughness with which you’re fucking her, she still finds the words to put words to her pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” she gasps. “Fuck, Mina, fuck, he’s fucking me so good. So good. So hard! So good. Stretching me out. Gonna… gonna fucking cum soon, all over his cock.”

“Chaeyoung, mmmm,” Mina replies, unable, like her friend, to find the words that could give voice to her pleasure. She settles for reaching over and capturing Chaeyoung’s face with her hand, pulling her towards herself for a kiss.

The sight of the two making out - even as you fuck Chaeyoung’s cunt with long, hard strokes - is intoxicating. It felt amazing for you, but it must have been sublime for Chaeyoung, if the pulsating of her pussy around your cock was any indication.

Her orgasm hits her from out of nowhere, and she moans her pleasure into Mina’s mouth. The older woman breathes her moan in, inhales it, her lips curling up into a smile even as Chaeyoung turns into a quivering, trembling mess beneath her lips.

Eventually Chaeyoung’s strength gives out, and she breaks the kiss, falling forward and letting her head drop to the deck chair. You slow your thrusts, relishing the embrace of her pussy rippling around your cock as her orgasm runs its course.

“Me now, me,” Mina gasps, almost pleading, barely able to come up with the words she needed to describe the need coursing through her body. “Fuck me now. Me.”

You slide from Chaeyoung’s trembling pussy, delighting in the sight of her cunt lips wrapped around your shaft as it leaves her body. Your cock is slick and wet and dripping with her juices, some of it dripping onto the deck chair in heavy drops. You leave her face down, ass up on the deck chair, a blissful smile on her face as she relishes every second of the post-orgasm haze that had taken a hold of her senses.

You take up position behind Mina, swapping over to her deck chair, planting one foot on the floor for better leverage. You bring your glistening cock to her needy little cunt, and you slip into her body with one strong thrust, hilting yourself inside the mewling young woman’s slick little pussy.

Mina’s cunt is tight and dripping, given she’d just spent the past few minutes watching her best friend have her brains fucked out right next to her. From the very first thrust she is clenching, pulsating, quivering around your shaft. It was obvious that she was in no mood for a slow build up, slow ramping up of pace and forcefulness.

So you fuck her - hard, fast, merciless. And from the moment you slide out of her cunt, only to hilt yourself inside her again, her entire body tells you that that was exactly what she wanted.

She sighs, moans, cries her pleasure. Without words, like Chaeyoung. It was odd, you realized, given how relatively composed she was the night before when she was with the two old toys, and even earlier than that, when you had her with Buzz and Woody a few weeks prior. Both of those times she seemed to have complete control over the situation and her own body, vocalizing her needs, ordering her partners to do what she wished. This was a woman whom you’d witnessed taking three loads in each of her holes, all in the same night, without so much as a sly smile of contentment afterwards.

And now here she was, a mewling, quivering thing, unable to form words, her only way of expressing her pleasure being the breathless sighs and moans that spilled from her lips in an endless tumble. What was different?

You realize, even as you fuck the young woman into the deck chair, that it was Chaeyoung’s presence. The younger woman had been a mere observer with both of the other encounters, but now, having been fucked by the same man mere moments before, she was a full participant. 

Was it Chaeyoung’s proximity that drove Mina mad? The knowledge that she was being fucked with the same cock that had been inside her best friend and ex-lover just moments before?

Whatever it was, the Mina you were slamming in and out of was a different one from the one you’d had before. She reaches behind her, her nails pressing deep into your hip. She turns towards Chaeyoung, her sunglasses falling from her eyes as she does so, revealing eyes drunk with some heady mixture of pleasure and need.

“Mmmm,” she sighs, “Oh! Ummmh. Chaeyoung-”

Chaeyoung shakes the last of her post-orgasm stupor to reach up with a hand, cradling Mina’s face just as Mina did to her minutes before, when she herself was on the verge of cumming. 

“Do you like that, baby girl?” she asks, breathlessly. “Do you like being fucked hard like this?”

“Hhhmmmm,” Mina sighs, even as her body is rocked back and forth with the relentless pace of your cock thrusting in and out of her tight little cunt. The wet slap slap slap of your hips into her slick, sticky crotch makes it almost difficult to hear her.

“Mmm, I bet you do,” the younger girl answers, understanding the meaning beneath every sound that left her friend’s mouth, even if those sounds ceased to resemble human language, and instead took the form of lustful moans and wordless sighs. “I know you love being fucked like this. Being fucked hard, having your cunt pounded.”

Chaeyoung forces a kiss onto Mina’s lips before bringing her mouth to the moaning woman’s ear.

“I know you love it, taking cocks like this,” she continues. “Being used. Normal fucking isn’t good enough for you, is it? You need men to use you, don’t you? Being fucked like this - you love it. Do you know why, Mina? Do you know why you love being fucked hard? Because you’re so prim and proper all the time, aren’t you, baby girl? Because you’re Myoui Mina, elegant and ladylike, the perfect princess - being fucked like a whore.”

Mina cums in response - as though some secret keyword had been spoken, some trigger she had buried deep within her pulled by a merciless finger. Her orgasm is rough, violent, her entire body becoming a trembling mess as the pleasure overcomes her senses. She tightens almost painfully around your cock, the silken embrace of her cunt becoming almost unbearable in its tightness.

She falls forward, off your cock and onto the deck chair, breathing heavily, eyes shut, body still quivering. You gasp involuntarily as you leave her body, the slick wetness of her cunt sliding off your cock sending shivers of pleasure up your spine. You’d seen Mina cum before, of course, including on your own cock more than once - but never like this. You’d never seen her have an orgasm so strong, so raw.

You feel a need to comfort her, make sure she was okay. You bend over her body, placing kisses on her sweaty back and neck.

Chaeyoung joins you, leaning on her side on Mina’s deck chair, kissing her friend’s forehead and flushed cheeks even as the older woman quivers and trembles with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“He hasn’t cum yet,” she whispers into Mina’s ear as she pulls a strand of hair behind it. “We can’t leave him like this, can we, baby girl?”

“Mmnnnn,” Mina manages, though her breaths are short as she struggles to feed tired lungs. 

“Neither of the other toys came in you last night, did they? They followed your rules. Do you want a load now, baby girl? Do you want a load in this tight little pussy? In your tight little ass?”

Chaeyoung runs a finger along Mina’s lips before planting a soft, tender kiss upon them.

“…Or would you rather swallow it?”

Mina’s bottom lip curls under her tooth before she answers.

“You… you, take it. Take his cum. I know… I know you want it. I want you.. I want you to have it.”

A wicked smile pulls at the corners of Chaeyoung’s lips.

“Okay, baby girl,” she whispers, loud enough for you to hear. “I’m sure he’s got a lot of cum saved up for us. It’s already the second day of the trip, and he hasn’t cum in a pussy yet. Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll take his load for the both of us.”

Chaeyoung reaches into the black plastic bag that she’d left on the deck floor, retrieving her Polaroid camera. She places it in Mina’s hands.

“Make sure you get a good shot,” she says.

Chaeyoung lies on her back on her deck chair and spreads her legs. She reaches down, pulls the crotch of her swimsuit aside further than it already was, revealing her slick, dripping opening. For a moment, you are surprised with how quickly she turned your attention away from Mina’s wellbeing and back to her own pleasure. It was almost greedy, how quickly she claimed your load. Almost selfish.

But the thought is fleeting, because there she was - beautiful, tight, needy, waiting for your cock, craving your load. Any hesitation you might have had about how quickly she’d forgotten about Mina vanishes at the sight of her and the needy cunt between her flushed, spread thighs.

You come back to her deck chair, taking up position between her legs, bringing your cock - slick, glistening, aching - to her needy little cunt. You swipe your tip up and down her lips for a moment before sliding inside her, filling her in one smooth, long stroke.

“Fuck,” she hisses through her teeth. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby - I know you're close. Come on. Fuck me, cum in my pussy.”

You fuck Son Chaeyoung into the deck chair with firm, solid strokes of your cock, making sure she felt every entry and exit, filling her until you’re hilt deep before slipping out and doing it again and again and again. She spreads her legs wider, lets you get as deep inside her as you could. She hooks her ankles around your waist, wraps her hands around the back of your neck and lets her fingers intertwine. The cock hammering in and out of her body feels wonderful, but she cares less about her own pleasure and more about making sure her needy little pussy was filled up with cum.

“Come on, baby. Fuck me. Fuck my pussy up, give me that mess. Cum in me. Fill me up, fill me deep! I want to feel it in my guts.”

“Fuck, Chaeyoung,” you grunt. She was so tight, so slick, so hot - the silken grasp of her cunt wore away more and more of your sanity with each thrust. “Gonna make me cum.”

Mina whimpers next to you both, and you spare her a glance to see that she’s recovered somewhat from her orgasm. She’s grasping the camera with both hands now, holding it beneath her eye, waiting for the perfect shot. Her hands are quivering slightly. Her lower lip is curled under a tooth as she bites down hard on it.

Chaeyoung sees her readying for the shot and feels you nearing your peak. She places her hands on your upper chest before giving you a slight push backward, forcing you to straighten your arms as you support your weight with your hands on either side of her head. It creates space between your bodies - and gives Mina the perfect angle for a shot of your cock sliding in and out of her creamy little pussy.

“Oh god,” Mina gasps, breathless at the sight before her.

“Chaeyoung, gonna fucking-”

“-cum in me!” she hisses, eyes locked on yours with a wild intensity, wanting nothing more in that moment than to feel your cock spasming inside her as it fills her with semen. “Cum in me, cum in my cunt - fill me up with your cum.”

Mina’s tooth breaks the tender skin of her lip. She tastes the blood in her mouth.

She frames the shot. Her finger finds the shutter button just as you orgasm, filling Chaeyoung’s cunt with the first of several ropes of thick, warm semen.

Snap.

---

“Signal was the worst song. I have no idea how it got released, much less became our title track.”

“And the music video!” Mina adds. “With that dumb alien, and the dumb superpowers. What were the marketing team on when they came up with that stuff?”

“I dunno,” Chaeyoung says, filling your shot glass with the last drops of the three bottles of soju. “But hey, it won Song of the Year for some reason, so I guess it wasn’t a total failure.”

“I kinda liked Signal,” you admit, sheepishly. “I thought it was a bop.”

“Of course you did,” Chaeyoung says with a teasing sneer. “God, you’re such a fanboy.”

“Can’t complain about where it got me,” you counter, shooting the young woman a wink before downing your shot. You relish the sweet but strong flavor of the alcohol as it slides down your throat. The three of you had started drinking not long after your little session, lounging about on the deck chairs as the afternoon turned into early evening. Alcohol mixed well with the post-sex haze, lending the warm Singaporean sunset a warm, comfortable feeling.

“We’re all out,” Mina observes, motioning with her head towards the empty green bottles. “I suppose I can head out and get some more.” She raises her upper body off her deck chair and looks around for the bikini bottoms she’d rid herself of a while ago, but before she can find them, Chaeyoung stops her with a hand on her forearm.

“Now, now,” the younger girl says, “I don’t think you or I should be going out given our current state of dress. You can’t even find the other half of your bikini, can you?”

“I mean, either of you can just toss some shorts on and be just fine-” you begin, only for Chaeyoung to pull the top of her swimsuit down, letting her small, perky little tits slip out. Mina playfully follows suit, slipping her own round tits out of the cups of her bikini top.

“So you think I should go back out to the convenience store with my tits out and a load of cum dripping down my thighs? Man, the company would kill us if we went out like this, wouldn’t they?” Chaeyoung asks Mina, playfully.

“They sure would,” she replies. She had seemed eager to make the liquor run herself - but her desire to please Chaeyoung outweighed her desire for more alcohol, apparently.

“I really do want some more drinks though, and maybe some snacks,” Chaeyoung continues. “If only there were a strong and responsible but also handsome and well-endowed manager here to solve this little predicament of ours.”

The girls smile slyly at you, and you give them a snort through your nose before standing up off the chair and putting your shorts back on. You make a show of giving both of their pairs of tits a nice long look before turning around and starting towards the open glass doors of the hotel suite.

“Wait!” Chaeyoung says, reaching for the Polaroid. “Take a shot of us before you go. While the sun’s still up.”

You take the camera, expecting her to direct you to take another lewd shot - they did both have their tits out and Mina’s bikini bottom was essentially MIA - but Chaeyoung surprises you by tucking her tits back into her swimsuit and grabbing a white towel from a nearby deck chair that she tosses over Mina’s naked lower half.

“Take a clean one for the fanboys,” she says, mischievously, as she puts on her sunglasses and cuddles up next to Mina, who has pulled her bikini top back over her breasts. “I’m sure they’ll love the Michaeng tease!”

Mina sits up and gets ready for the picture, but the smile on her lips is forced. There is a quiver in her lip, as though Chaeyoung had just reopened an old wound.

You frame the shot. Your finger finds the shutter just as Mina slides her sunglasses back on, as though she wanted to hide the sadness in her eyes.

Snap.

--- 

Singapore had many things - some of the best cuisine in Asia, world-class shopping, gorgeous people - but the past eight hours you’d spent hopping in and out of various art exhibits had convinced you that it also had a thriving art scene.

You weren’t much for art, truth be told. You could appreciate the talent behind a paintbrush or a pencil, of course, but you weren’t exactly one to spend more than a few minutes admiring a piece. 

Chaeyoung was quite the opposite. There were several times over the past few hours that you’d found her absolutely engrossed in a particular piece, to the point where she appeared almost motionless in front of it, her breathing being the only indicator that she was a living being and not herself some sort of statue.

“Art can express what letters and numbers can’t,” she said, out of the blue, while you both stood there admiring a piece from a local modern artist. “It isn’t constrained by the rules of language or math or science. It’s expression in its purest form. That’s why I love it.”

Spending time alone with her was always something you looked forward to - you didn’t need her to justify the hours you’d both spent in small, quiet local galleries and exhibits over most of the day. That she felt the need to do so led you to believe that she was unsure of how you felt about her obsession with canvases and spray paint and acrylics.

“We can take as much time here as you want, Chaeyoung,” you say, quietly. Her attention leaves the piece in front of her for a moment to shoot you a smile for a moment before she returns her eyes to it.

“Yeah? You wouldn’t rather be with a sweet, wholesome girl in a classy sundress and heels? One that doesn’t drag you into shady galleries filled with weird abstract art?”

“Naw. And I think I get this piece, honestly. It’s, uh, about the colors and stuff.”

Chaeyoung smiles, returning her attention to the art piece.

You spend the next ten minutes in silence. You do your best to make sense of the colors and shapes in front of you until Chaeyoung slowly slips her hand in your arm and drags you toward the next exhibit.

---

Exhibit 4: Two subjects (Subjects A and C) are immediately post-coitus. The male, Subject C, is on his back. Subject A is atop him. Subject C’s penis is still fully embedded inside Subject A. Semen and other bodily fluids drip from the meeting of their bodies to drip down Subject C’s penis and testicles.

---

The first time it happens you aren’t quite sure what exactly it was - but the intense, sharp pleasure it incited within you was intoxicating. 

The second time, you think you know what it is - Chaeyoung’s tongue. 

Mina rides you roughly, fiercely, every muscle in her toned hips and thighs working hard to slide her juicy little cunt up and down your length. Her small, round tits sway atop you and the wordless, breathy moans that leave her mouth are music to your ears. 

But it’s the little pauses she makes every few seconds, at the apex of each exit of your cock from her body - the pauses that allow Chaeyoung to drag her tongue up the underside of your shaft, gathering up the slick juices that coat your length - that drive you crazy. 

With your tip inside one woman and another’s tongue lapping up the wetness on your shaft, the concept of sanity was quickly becoming an abstract, unknown thing.

Chaeyoung returns to playing with your balls, caressing them with careful fingertips. Mina returns to bouncing that tight little pussy of hers up and down your cock. You return to relishing every moment, doing your best to hold on to what remained of your sanity even as more and more of it was lost to you with each bounce, each lick.

What you would have given to be in Chaeyoung’s position for even a moment, to see what she saw, watching Mina’s round, firm ass bounce up and down, watching your cock as it speared in and out of her leaking, dripping cunt. The sight of it alone might have been enough to make you cum right there, on the spot. It’s only by some miracle that you hadn’t already.

Your fingers dig deep into the soft, yielding flesh of Mina’s thighs as she continues to ride you. You had to ground yourself, find something to anchor yourself with amidst the waves of pleasure battering you. Each one was more delicious than the last - and each one brought you closer and closer to a climax you weren’t sure you wanted so soon.

It was too good. The slick, silken embrace of Mina’s cunt, the sighs and moans filling your ears, the feel of Chaeyoung’s tongue darting out and licking the underside of your shaft - it was too good. You wanted it to last, fought hard to control yourself even as you knew the fight would be in vain.

“He’s gonna cum soon, baby girl,” Chaeyoung announces. She knew you well enough by now, knew by the quiver in your thighs and the tremble in your balls that you were close. “Where do you want it? You want it in this juicy little cunt of yours, don’t you? I know you only let our current toys cum in you. I know you haven’t had a load in this pussy in weeks. Is this where you want it, baby girl? Is this where you want him to cum? Tell him where, baby girl. He needs to hear it.”

“Inside,” Mina hisses, the single word leaving her mouth with an intense amount of conviction, as though she couldn’t even fathom the idea of you cumming anywhere else. 

“You heard her,” Chaeyoung relays. Even amidst Mina’s moans and the wet slap of her thighs against your hips her words are crystal clear. “Fill that pussy up with cum.”

“Fuck, Mina,” you gasp, fingers turning into claws as they dig into her pale thighs before reaching around and filling your palms with the soft flesh of her bouncing ass, slamming her down onto your cock. Mina bends, sucks the breath from your mouth with a passionate kiss.

She breaks it, watches you with passionate, wild eyes. Her hips are relentless, her cunt pulsating, tightening  - too good, too fucking good. Her lips open, and she whispers.

“Cum inside me.”

Your hands slam her ass down onto your crotch, and your cock spasms as it fills Myoui Mina with thick, hot ropes of cum. She sighs and moans with every spurt that paints her walls, but the wordless sounds that leave her mouth sound far away, dull, because you’re too far gone, too far lost in pleasure to even parse the sensation of sound.

For a few long, beautiful seconds, you feel like you’re floating. The pleasure flowing through your veins is overwhelming, is all that exists. 

Mina, breathing heavily, lifts her hips up and off you. Your cock, still stiff, glistening and slick and wet, slips from her body. Heavy drops of your semen drip from the splayed lips of her fucked cunt, dropping onto your cock and balls.

Chaeyoung licks her lips at the sight. She frames the shot. Her finger finds the shutter.

Snap.

Even before the resulting photo has begun to leave the camera, she has already tossed it onto the bed. You look over Mina’s shoulder and watch as Chaeyoung, eyes hungry, presses her face against the Japanese girl’s cunt.

The look on Mina’s face tells you all you need to know about what is happening just beyond your line of sight. The pleasure wracks her fine, delicate features as Chaeyoung eats out her freshly fucked pussy, licks up the warm semen and cunt juices leaking freely from it. Mina moans, arching her back, giving Chaeyoung a better angle from which to devour her sticky, dripping pussy.

Your hands are still gripping Mina’s ass, a full cheek in each palm. You spread the cheeks apart, allowing Chaeyoung even easier access to the Japanese girl’s body.

The sounds that fill the room are unholy. Chaeyoung is slurping and sucking and licking and Mina is moaning and sighing beneath her tongue, back arching sharply, her limbs trembling.

You watch over Mina’s shoulder as Chaeyoung finally raises her head from her friend’s cunt. She is a mess - semen and cunt juices flow freely from her chin and the corners of her lips.

She opens her mouth - and her tongue is wet, white, glistening. Her hands find yours, still spreading Mina’s cheeks apart. Her fingers play with Mina’s ass, teasing the tight bud until it opens slightly.

She lets the juices in her mouth drip onto Mina’s asshole.

You watch it - the glistening, slick, sinful drip of juices as it falls from the tip of Chaeyoung’s tongue and between Mina’s cheeks.

When her mouth is empty, Chaeyoung returns her face to Mina’s body, this time swirling her tongue around Mina’s pursed asshole, teasing the tight opening with her tongue, letting the slick wetness she’d spit on it inside her body.

You watch it all, enraptured, from over Mina’s quivering shoulder. You lock eyes with Chaeyoung, her eyes finding yours even as she is nose-deep between her best friend’s ass cheeks, her tongue working inside her ass. The look she gives you is nothing short of wicked.

Eventually she raises her face from Mina’s trembling body.

“I think her ass is ready now,” she states. “Come fuck it.”

You slide out from under Mina’s boneless, trembling body. You take up position behind her, bringing your cock, still rock-hard - because who wouldn’t be, after seeing what you’d just seen - to the slick, wet mess of her asshole. She, like you, is powerless, unable to do anything except whatever Chaeyoung desired. Two puppets, two pawns, slave to her will.

Her hole beckons, slick and ready, waiting to be fucked and taken and used.

Chaeyoung watches over your shoulder, a devil in disguise. She presses her chest against your back, arms wrapping themselves around your torso, just as she had wrapped herself around your very soul. You feel yourself surrender to her, bound to fulfilling her every desire - even if in this moment her desire was to watch you use her best friend’s body.

For a moment, she considers grabbing the camera, capturing this moment too, allowing you both to re-live it over and over again in the future - but as you slide inside Mina’s ass and the air is soon filled with lust and sex and fucking, the thought of doing much else quickly flees her mind.

She had a hold over the other two occupants in the room, and the need to sate her desires overcame any desire to capture it on film.

---

Exhibit 5: Photo is predominantly dark and indiscernible. Lens was likely obscured by a close object while taking the photo.

----

The air is stale, heavy and hot. When you open up the blinds and pull open the sliding door that led to the balcony, the rush of cool air that floods the room does much to chase away the last cobwebs of sleep from your groggy head.

Chaeyoung stirs on the bed, lets out a groan of protest over the merciless sunlight and the chill of fresh air. She turns onto her side away from you.

You let your gaze wander over her small, tight little body, naked as the day she was born. Sitting next to her on the bed, you reach out and let your finger graze her soft curves, over the creamy skin and ink occasionally embedded beneath it. She loved art so much she wanted it inked into her own body, not knowing that she herself was a form of it.

When your fingertips reach her shoulder she captures your fingers with her own and they intertwine.

“Ten more minutes,” she manages to mumble.

“We have thirty minutes to get out of here,” you answer. Mina had awoken some hours before and was already downstairs checking out at the front desk and settling the bill. 

She grumbles and protests, but eventually she rises to a seated position.

“I can think of a couple of things we can do in thirty minutes,” she says, suggestively. You find your gaze drifting to her small, round breasts and the piercings atop them, and your hand follows suit, gently cradling one in your palm. She purrs, and a naughty smile perks up the corners of her lips as she brings her face to yours and gives you a kiss.

“I’ll take a raincheck,” you say, softly. “C’mon. Mina’s probably already called us a ride to the airport.”

“Okay, okay,” she relents. You place the loose sweater and sweatpants you’d prepared for her in her lap.

It was a bit of a challenge, dragging her out of the hotel room and downstairs, where Mina was waiting with your luggage on the curb next to a newly arrived black SUV. Unlike Chaeyoung, she is impeccably dressed in a grey pencil skirt and matching white button-up, looking for all intents and purposes as though she was on her way home from a business trip and hadn’t spent most of the last five days having some of the filthiest sex imaginable.

“Finally,” she says under her breath as you and Chaeyoung approach. You wheel your two carriers to the rear of the waiting vehicle and assist the driver with loading them into the trunk.

Chaeyoung produces the Polaroid camera. “One last photo!” she announces. “Good thing, too, ‘cause it’s the last shot left.”

Mina brushes her hair from her face, preparing herself for the photo - until Chaeyoung shoves the camera into her hands.

“Take a pic of me and my man slave,” Chaeyoung says, playfully. She shuffles over to where you are loading the last of the luggage into the trunk and hooks her arm in yours. You glance at her as she approaches, and find a wide, cheery smile on her lips as she poses with you.

You both miss the quiver of pain in Mina’s lip.

She frames the shot. Her finger finds the shutter button.

She covers the lens.

Snap.

“Oh, shit,” she says, flatly, as the camera cranks out the photo. It takes a few moments to confirm as it develops, but eventually it appears most of the photo is obscured by the finger Mina had left over the lens.

“Damn,” Chaeyoung says, disappointed. “That sucks. Oh well, we have plenty of other photos from this trip.”

“Sorry,” Mina says under her breath as she passes the camera back to Chaeyoung and climbs into the vehicle.

---

Mina barely manages a smile when Momo enters the green room; truth be told, she was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that the older woman was lucky to even get that.

“Hey,” Momo greets as she tosses her bag onto a nearby table before slouching into a stylist’s chair. She, too, looked and sounded a little ragged. “How was Singapore?”

“Great,” Mina answers beneath her breath, telling Momo all she needed to know about how the younger woman really felt. “How was Paris?”

“Great,” Momo repeats, with an equal amount of sad sarcasm. It had been two weeks since she’d returned from the French capital, but she wasn’t sure she’d recovered from the toll it had enacted on her body or heart.

The two sit there in silence for a while, silence heavy in the air. After a few minutes, Momo takes her phone out of her bag.

“I saw that pic she posted,” she begins. “The Polaroid of the two of you.”

Mina sighs under her breath, looking away slightly, unable to bear the thought of eye contact with anyone at the moment. This was the last conversation she wanted to have. “What about it?” she manages.

“It was shitty of her to do,” Momo says. “I’m sorry, Mina.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know,” the older woman admits, not quite knowing how to broach the topic. “I just… I know about you two, how you were together. It’s shitty of her to use your history to get likes from thirsty fanboys on fucking insta.”

Mina’s eyes shut involuntarily, as though her body were protecting itself from the world. She didn’t want to deal with this, wanted to run away from it all, would rather be anywhere else than in this green room preparing for a performance she had little enthusiasm for. She appreciated Momo taking her side, but to hear Chaeyoung’s intentions out loud hurt her more than she was expecting.

“It’s fine,” Mina says, although she isn’t sure whether she believes it herself. “She doesn’t know how I feel. She didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just…”

“...it’s just?”

“It’s just… fanservice.”

Her voice cracks as the word leaves her lips. It hurt her, to have what was an important part of her life reduced to something so fake, so inherently pretend. She feels a spike of emotion well up in her throat, and she turns further away from Momo in an attempt to hide it.

It doesn’t work - Momo leaves her chair and takes the one next to Mina. She wraps an arm around the younger girl. After a few moments’ hesitation Mina relents and turns her body to Momo, and the two embrace.

A few minutes pass - the two young women sharing a moment of comfort amidst the hustle and bustle of a music show. Outside, they can still hear Sana laughing with her juniors over the dull beat of whatever shrill, overproduced song they were filming a dance challenge to. They do their best to shut out the world in each others’ arms.

“I want to be with her,” Mina says, softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to be with him,” Momo answers.

At that moment the door opens and Sana lets herself into the room - thankfully, with her back facing them. She spends a few moments lingering by the door, waving goodbye to the small crowd of junior idol worshippers she’d gathered. She bathes in their attention, wears it like a dress, relishes every overexaggerated wave and promise to stay in contact. Inside the green room, her two group members cringe - the very sound of her voice annoyed and irritated them, as did the empty promises and fake compliments that left her lips.

Momo and Mina part before she can fully enter the room. Before they do, they share one last look.

In each others’ eyes, they come to an understanding.

---

The photos were terrible, by modern standards.

Some were poorly composed, some over or under exposed, blurry or unfocused. But therein lay their charm - their imperfection gave them character that modern photography lacked. Modern photos could be edited, touched up until they were perfect. Not so with physical photos. They were fleeting moments in time captured on film, photographer flaws and all.

The more scandalous, lewd ones she put aside - they’d go in a special album, one she kept for lonelier nights - but most of them she put in her normal album with the others. They would take their place alongside photos with friends, photos of important places or things, foreign landscapes and macro images of blades of grass or drops of rain. Many of the photos are of art, or are framed in such a way as to be art themselves. 

She saw art everywhere. She wanted to capture it all, hang them all up in galleries where they could live forever; even if said gallery consisted only of the small album she kept in a corner of her room.

There are a few of the new additions that she likes more than the others - the ones of him. Not the cheesy, staged photos of them in front of touristy landmarks or landscapes; no, she liked the candid ones the most. The ones of him laughing, only half in-frame, at a dad joke Mina dropped over lunch; the one of him in a vintage store they found tucked away in an alleyway, pointing up at an off-frame t-shirt that had caught his interest; the one of him she took when they got lost walking back to the hotel and he’s trying to make sense of the map on his phone, confused.

But the one she took on their last day there, the one of him asleep, head only half on his pillow, the sunlight making his skin glow - that was the one she liked the most. Her fingers trace the photo for a moment, and a soft smile finds its way on her lips.

After a moment she puts the photo in the album and closes it, placing it back on her shelf. 

As she does, her eye catches something - the small, rainbow-patterned album behind the one she held in her hands.

She knows she shouldn’t - she knows what’s in there, and what emotions it would bring up - but something possesses her to pick it out from her shelf. So much had happened, so much had changed over the past few months. Perhaps a part of her needed a reminder of a different time, when she was a different person - when they were different people.

She opens the album, and her fingers quickly find the last page. It is well-worn, familiar. Her fingers trace the pink-framed outline of the only Polaroid there. 

Her smile remains, but now it is a sad one.

---

Exhibit 0: Two young women (Subject B and Subject D) are embracing. The photo is a close up of their faces. Subject D is placing a kiss upon the cheek of Subject B, who is presumably holding the camera to take the selfie. Both Subject B and Subject D appear happy. In the lower half of their frame are their left hands, fingers intertwined - simple matching rings adorn their ring fingers.

On the bottom of the Polaroid frame, written with a black Sharpie in simple handwriting:

“Love you always - Nayeon”

---

Author’s Note: Toy is dirty PWP but also feels? *shrug* ;)

[mangle-my-mind]

Wow this is a phenomenal analysis. Everyone read this!!!

Micko really did so much with so little, though. Like Jack literally only speaks onstage, he doesn't have a single line otherwise, so you're left trying to glean anything he's thinking from subtle expression and body language

Like, at least to me:

When Brian approaches him it takes him a split second to notice he's being Observed, and the whole face shuts like an iron gate. Mouth closes, jaw tenses. His expressions here suggest that: A. this is absolutely not the first time someone has barged in in his private space uninvited, B. having noticed Brian staring at him earlier he's not in the least bit surprised to see him (particularly to see him looking v. predatory) and C. he's bracing for whatever this particular intrusion is going to cost him. It's an extremely subtle face journey, but ...the first blink is just "Ah, of course." and the way he lowers his eyes, it's...like it's not "Go on, then" as in consent or as in encouragement so much as it's "Let's get this over with"

Jack could probably fight someone off, or at least make them damn well regret putting their hands on him if he absolutely had to, but I'd imagine this is one of those, 'this guy in particular is a completely unknown quantity and he does not look like the sort of person who would take no for an answer' situations. Jack almost looks...there's a split second when Brian grabs him where he almost looks like he wants to roll his eyes? Like he's thinking "Ugh. Amateur." and again, just get-on-with-it. Gives him no reaction, no response. And there is a zero percent chance he could not have noticed an earring being removed from his own ear (someone stole a pin off the back of my bag once and I felt that, and I had the same non-reaction, because if someone is going to be blatant enough to take your property off your body, what else might they do if you try to stop them?). He spends a second kind of processing it, like that was not what he expected and he certainly isn't happy about it, but it's certainly better than getting hate crime'd or worse.

And the bit w/ Mandy is so interesting, and it's set up in such a ...like Mandy is done such a disservice by Cecil's narration, because we meet him first and he describes her as 'a constant source of amusement,' like all of her mannerisms are artificial and performed, and implying also that she really believes she's someone fooling people into thinking she's charming and interesting (but in actual fact everyone barely tolerates her because it's amusing to watch her make a fool of herself)

So that coupled with Jack's non-reaction to her v exuberant greeting, as a teenager I did not attribute it to his composure and poise but rather to her being a sort of Edina Monsoon, sweetie darling, who everybody sort of laughs at. But with fresh eyes??? This is probably Jack's...like he probably adopted his wall of unflappability precisely to discourage behaviour like Brian's, like he'll let you kiss him in public if you absolutely have to but he's not going to react to it one way or the other, because doubtless that would cause manifold problems. He's got an entire little entourage of attendants and hangers-on, pay too much attention to one over the other and that's going to cause rumours and drama, allow random strangers grabbing at him to get a response and that will only mean it happens more often (because a reaction from Jack, positive or negative, is no doubt what some of them want).

He lets her hang off him like a slightly drunk kitten but that's the extent of it, at least In Public. And of course he's already assessing a threat across the room (probably because that is who she's whispering in his ear about). And of course...he was absolutely right to be cautious.

Even with Curt, who of everyone in the entire film he actually seeks out and chooses to interact with as opposed to standing there like a torch surrounded by moths, there's a difference In Public.

There is The Smile: I love the way he's sort of bopping in time with the window crank, this is the least-polished we ever see him. Unadorned save for lipstick and earrings, and it's markedly not a practised smile, which he may well have a version of (it would be as subtle as every other expression and absolutely closed-mouthed, for when he's directed to "smile" in a photo shoot or something). This is the least-guarded and most open we see him the whole time and it shows so beautifully, because the bopping is a little dorky and it takes him a second to get control of the smile, like he's forgotten quite how to do it or that you kinda have to keep doing it after you've started (but he's not sure for how long). His eyes know what they're doing but his mouth isn't entirely sure.

But then of course in the diner or cafe or whatever it is

He's still with Curt and he's CLEARLY comfortable with Curt because otherwise he absolutely would not have taken the window seat and been boxed in like this. Even though it is Curt, he's still leaning ever so slightly away from him (Curt is leaning by contrast, ever so slightly towards Jack, his only source of emotional support). And this is not bc Jack is shying away from Curt but because he's shying away from any kind of implication of physical intimacy with Curt on camera, especially given the subject of the interview. Whatever is going on there is not for the international media (because look what happened the time it was, and look what it did to Curt when it went to hell). You get the sense that if they'd gone to him, alone, he'd have very graciously declined to be interviewed but because Curt was involved, he felt he had to go along for morale, even though he contributes nothing but sitting there looking beautiful and delicately smoking (and fidgeting with this ciggie a bit). Said ciggie does not actually look finished, when he leans over to the ashtray: leaving the possibility literally on the table that he leaned over not because he needed to stub it out but because that was his subtle way to reach over Curt's space in a difficult moment.

@mangle-my-mind Thoughts????

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

misc. (i)

⛔️ TW: mention of anorexia and drugging❗️

♡ Venus Square Mars may attract obsessive people. In particular, people who obsess over their looks or fetishize them in some way. Brooke Shields had a whole nation obsessed with her at the mere age of 12. Eugenia Cooney has infamously attracted hoards of anorexia fetishists with her content. People with this placement may have a higher risk of drastic weight loss or gain.

♡ Either I meet too many Capricorn Suns by coincidence or it's a rather common placement. One reasoning could be that April is an ideal month for marriage in many places, especially ones where it gets unbearably hot in June. Spring adds to April's allure. Traditional couples often conceive right after tying the knot, making the pregnancy due in Capricorn season.

♡ Lilith is associated with sexuality but people focus too much ONLY on that facet of it. Lilith is associated with many other things like power, revenge and how one becomes a social pariah.

♡ Planets at 0° may symbolize struggle. Lana Del Rey has Sun at 0°. The Sun represents our ego. She had many controversies in 2020 including the mesh mask and her Instagram rant undermining POC artists. Even after criticism, instead of apologizing, she remained defensive. I believe that planets at 0° provide a lot of room for growth if the individual is genuinely interested in self-improvement.

♡ Aries Moon (ruled by Mars) and Scorpio Moon (ruled by Pluto, traditionally by Mars) despite being similar are perceived quite differently by people. The sign of Aries gives child-like quality to the native. They come off as cute and their sarcastic remarks are perceived as good humor. E.g. Rihanna roasting Helena Bonham Carter's sense of fashion. Meanwhile, one eyeroll from a Scorpio Moon, and they may come off as hateful and jealous. My advice to Scorpio Moons who want to be in the public eye, please never put on the mean girl persona. Tap into your kind side, it'll be received in a positive way and you'll attract genuine support.

♡ Venus-Mars aspects symbolize beauty; the difference may lie in how people perceive it. Venus Trine Mars are often called cute. People with this aspect are well-liked and have a good reputation. These are the people who may never be cancelled due to the halo effect they have. No matter how massively popular they are, people won't be digging up dirt on them, which is also why very little is known about these people's personal lives. These people often become a household name due to that one iconic thing they did, even if they decide to adapt a lowkey presence afterwards. Let me emphasize this with an extensive list of examples:

✧ Nina Dobrev (The Vampire Diaries), Zayn, Leighton Meester (Gossip Girl), Adele, Kit Harington (Game of Thrones), Sabrina Carpenter, Tobey Maguire (Spider-Man), Kate Middleton, Mandy Moore (A Walk to Remember), Jackie Chan, Jenna Fischer (The Office), Ana de Armas, Josh Hutcherson (The Hunger Games), Constance Wu (Crazy Rich Asians), Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean) and Alan Rickman (Harry Potter) have this aspect.

✧ Taeyang being the only member of former K-pop group BIGBANG who's had no controversies (also managed to keep his relationship hidden for a long time before revealing it with a wedding announcement), Khloé Kardashian being the least disliked Kardashian/Jenner sister, Cardi B admitting to drugging and robbing men, starring in Hustlers that glamorized it, hitting her career peak with WAP the very next year really drives the point home.

✧ I've also noticed this aspect in almost all Bollywood IT girls of their time: Priyanka Chopra, Aishwarya Rai, Anushka Sharma, Ayesha Takia, Dia Mirza, Divya Bharti, Parveen Babi - all loved by the general public despite the media scrutiny and misogyny that prevails within the industry.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[alastors-antlers]

a brief take on the whole "Alastor's smile is permanent" discussion

hello all!

I've seen a lot of people theorizing lately that Alastor actually smiles all the time because his smile is magically, physically fixed onto his face. All of this seems to come from the fact that he's practically grimacing rather than smiling during the scene where he breaks down in ep8:

As well as this frame of his deal with Charlie: (lower res sorry)

I will say, I do like some of the implications of this theory. The sheer spite of his creditor forcing him to smile as an addition to their deal, almost like a sort of forced silence, is a neat concept. It's fun and dramatic. Plus, of all things, of course Alastor would claim the "smile at all times" policy and make it his own to pretend that it was his decision all along lol.

To be fair, though, I don't think we even need any magical compulsion to explain why he's smiling while he's having a mental breakdown. Actually, if we assume magical compulsion, I think we lose a bit of dimension from Alastor's character. (No judgement to anyone's take though, of course -- I just think this works in the direction of his established characterization, but obviously all personal takes <3)

Hear me out:

Alastor's persona is not just for others to see.

"A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends; keeps your enemies guessing; and ensures that whatever comes your way, you're the one in control."

That makes sense given what we know about him. If he's always smiling, he seems like he has it together. You can't read him very well, especially not when he's actively trying to keep up appearances.

Now consider that when you think about ep8's fight with Heaven, we see that he's already been through so much in this one day.

He fights an army of angels, presumably not even at his own whim (if we go by his blurb about freedom in the Finale song); he loses to Adam, who he considers sloppy and mediocre; his staff, which we can assume holds some part of his power, is snapped; he comes close to being Angelic-power-killed; and to top it all off, he knows that others watched him get injured and then apparently die or flee, all of which would ruin the public image that he's trying to maintain. It wouldn't even be unreasonable for us to assume that he knows Vox was watching, given that Vox kind of has eyes everywhere.

In a moment like this, in the finale, you could say that Alastor has lost (at least on some level) everything that we know matters to him. He doesn't have access to all of his magic, and it's limiting him. He's reminded that he doesn't have freedom or control over his own destiny. He certainly has taken massive hits to his powerful, composed persona. But he's desperate, and furious, and terrified, and clinging on.

That's why he's smiling.

It's not that he can't stop because he physically can't. It's that he can't stop because to him, the smile is the last thing that is still within his power. When there are so many moving parts that he can't predict what happens to him next, he can control how he responds to it. In these last fragments of autonomy, there is solace.

He needs to keep telling himself that he has it together and that he'll eventually scheme his way free, that there's a solution, that he won't be in chains forever; because letting his pretense slip would be admitting that it's all starting to actually get to him. That maybe this time, he doesn't have an escape plan.

In addition, if you read his interactions throughout the series, we also see something else: Alastor's reputation is of paramount importance to him. At multiple points throughout the series, when others disrespect him by discounting his power or presence, he gets visibly annoyed. And in the battle, we see a glimpse of the part of his personality he seems to be trying to leave behind - a normal Alastor, who's just some guy from Louisiana. No transatlantic accent; no unflappable malice; no sharp wit waiting at the ready. Maybe even unremarkable.

Dropping his smile - arguably the most prominent part of his brand - would be admitting that in reality, he's not the Radio Demon of legend that he aspires to project. And if he doesn't have that... where would he be?

[sisaloofafump]

Thinking about Bruce getting hit by a spell that gives him catlike features for a year. It lasts long enough that he knows he can't hide it, so he integrates it into his public persona.

It doesn't really affect his Batman work. He perches on high places and turns away from physical affection like usual. His cowl already has places for ears and his tail is hidden by his cape. His balance is already so good. The eyes make his night vision better, the flexibility in his feet makes him swifter, he modifies the gloves to match Selina's claws.

But there are little things that change.

He's more sleepy, constantly, and it's rarely a deep nap but he nods off whenever he can. Every few days he needs to cuddle with someone safe and is restless and needy if he can't. His meals (already dense and few and far between) stick to a strict schedule. He sniffs things.

And with those that he's close to, it gets a little more apparent.

He deposits care packages at his kids' doors in the middle of the night with no explanation

He hisses at criminals

He licks his thumb and rubs sauce splatter off Alfred's face in the kitchen

Diana picks him up by the scruff like a misbehaving kitten and he just goes limp

Selina is having the absolute best time of her life. It doesn't matter that they're fighting, once she hears the news she runs back to Gotham and doesn't let him out of the bed for a week

She is, however, mockingly offended that he's both stolen her aesthetic and that he refuses to lean into it. She keeps making him catsuits. She "buys" him cat themed jewelry and he can't even complain about it because she's looking at him with such wonder and awe and then kissing him stupid

He melts into Clark's pets and practically climbs into his lap when they're alone. (Totally Platonically of course). He travels to Metropolis semi-regularly to take care of his cuddling needs away from the indignity of his household

He always checks and makes sure Superman's hair curl is perfect

Socialites love it. They pet his ears and his tail and he drapes himself over them pretending he loves it too, focusing all his attention on controlling his tail muscles and not letting it flick angrily

"Oh no, it didn't give me the muscles to purr" Brucie explains, and then he spots Friend! Ally! Lois Lane across the hall and starts purring up a storm

Lois is unbelievably smug as her and Bruce are nearly chased out by an incredibly jealous heiress

Both Cass and Stephanie are so excited and Steph stops avoiding patrols with Bruce because her need to sneak up behind him and pat his (cowled) head is too strong. He lets it happen. They work well together when she knows she's only allowed to keep it up if she follows all his other mission commands

Damian brings him pamphlets on feline health and behaviours and enforces strict adherence to its guidelines

Jason is insufferable about it, not lessening in his taunts even after the novelty has worn off for everyone else. Bruce once picks him up by the scruff and he goes limp

Wayne Foundation sells multiple photoshoot calendars, ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous. Selina (who is semi-publicly known to be Catwoman after her most recent arrests) directs them the shoot, to the horror of most of the crew

They sell out immediately

Lois buys all three and places the most scandalous in the kitchen with sticky notes covering the most sensitive areas (but leaving enough to let the imagination go wild). The wholesome one goes beside their bed and the mid tier one is on Clark's desk at the Planet. He moves it to Lois's desk. Lois changes his computer wallpaper a full frontal cat!Bruce nude

Bruce gets away with catnapping throughout any meeting he wants

He sets up a "nap room" attached to his office which provides ample excuse to sneak away or work on his batcomputer

Dick doesn't know how to feel. Humour, yes, but it reminds him of the cat themed entertainers at the circus and their acrobatic stunts. He teaches Bruce some of them. He doesn't say why (but Bruce knows)

Bruce chirps when he's sleepy. He curls up with Clark on the couch and Clark memorizes the sound

He accidentally chirps over comms once and without hesitation Clark and Diana reply back. The rest of the league is deeply confused but it becomes a nearly effective check in system for the Trinity

Clark subconsciously learns how to purr. Lois gives him absolute hell for it. The apartment vibrates minutely whenever Bruce is over

Bruce's ears and tail are horribly transparent about his emotions, especially negative ones. It's not purring or chirping that indicates contentment, but the lack of his tail's near constant flicking and ticked off ears

Tim is one of the only ones who tries to optimize the cat features as part of Batman. He isn't distracted by or infantilizing of them, but he also doesn't ignore them and pretend everything is the same

Duke thinks it's Bad Ass but doesn't push the gimmick when he realizes Bruce won't lean into it. He once snips off a piece of Bruce's fur on a dare by his civilian friends. He sells it for $690

Bruce goes cowl & capeless at core-group Justice League meetings because the suit still too constructing and sensory-overwhelming no matter how much he modifies it. His glare dares them to be distracted by it. They still are.

Most of them move on after a few months. Barry never does. Actually if we're being honest none of them do, but most of them stop hovering around and hoping to pet him. (And he trusts them. He allows some initial pets to get the curiosity out of their system. Until he gets overwhelmed and shuts it all down)

Hal is gravely injured on a mission and Bruce wraps him in his arms and purrs until evac arrives. They never talk about it again

Oliver wonders if he should get an animal themed transformation. Zatanna gives him a rat tail

Diana is delighted by the increased spring in his pounces and elects herself his principle sparring partner

(Dinah propositions him for a threesome. Bruce takes one look at Ollie's tail and walks away)

Bruce claws up Clark's cape and perches on his shoulders while he flies

He rips up little papers at his desk while working

When the batsignal goes up, he abandons everything and pounces towards it. Gordon finds him tapping at the bright light with his claw

Helena’s dog hates him

For a few weeks in the second month, he has two sets of canines as his adult cat teeth come in. What starts as a duo Alfred & Damian project to find appropriate teething material for Bruce that is a) effective and b) dignified enough Bruce would use it, spirals into a full batfamily effort. Too many people buy the exact same cheap adult batsignal chew necklace. Luke designs a high tech chewable batarang. Dick suggest an old cowl's ears. Finally someone brings him a chew necklace shaped like the Superman crest and Bruce gets way too much satisfaction walking out of a WE board meeting with an punctured and ruined El crest

Clark puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder during monitor duty, expecting either aloof rejection or a cuddle. Bruce bites him. That knocks the remaining baby teeth out

Diana performs his dental check ups because her fingers are strong but forgiving, and Clark Is Not Jealous

Bruce will give Jon and the shy children of socialites and WE employees piggybacks and let them play with his hair and ears, and or get away with tugging on his tail. It's uncomfortable, but he enjoys their glee and what little he can do to entertain them

Clark tries picking Bruce up by the scruff and Bruce hisses at him

Bruce only talks to J'onn telepathically

Unthinking, in an emergency, Bruce uses his serrated tongue and licks the kryptonite particles off of Clark's face

Inspired by the whiskers he unfortunately did not get, Bruce inputs sensors on the side of his cowl to help him judge what he's able to squeeze through

The one person who hates it is Kate. She attends some of the same events as Bruce as resents the attention he gets, both for his sake and because of her own annoyance. She thinks it's stupid how much mission time is wasted talking about it. She wishes it happened to her. She is Bruce's main ally in getting conversations back on track

Bruce gets so many love letters and proposals in the mail from all over the world. Selina puts them all in a binder and, even when wearing a disguise, pulls him closer whenever she sees one of the authors in person

Babs is (aside from changing some of his interface to have some cat themes) very professional about it. She low effort dresses up as a cat for a last minute Halloween event and Dick retches when she tries to flirt with him

Everyone buys him cat collars. Most are cheap gag gifts. Most are bat merch. Hal gives him a green lantern one. Steph gives him a Superman one.

Selina gives him dozens but the only one he'll wear isn't a collar at all but a lacy black choker with a dainty chain decal and a little heart charm. Bruce wears it to a gala and doesn't understand Clark's expression until he looks at it under a microscope. "Property of S". He looks into claw coverings Selina helped add to his gloves. "Property of C". Huh. Maybe that explains why Clark looked at them weird

His butt wiggles before he jumps

When the year is nearly up, Bruce pretends he won't mourn any of it and continues like normal. Selina debates trying to extend it. Zatanna could, but ultimately they decide to let it go

Unlike in the first week, Bruce and Selina fight a lot in the days before the end because emotions are high and Selina is clingy. It doesn't stop them from making the most of each night tho

Clark is disappointed that his time as Designated Bruce Cuddler and their semi-regular hangouts are coming to an end. Lois was dragging them through an X-Files marathon and they had only a couple seasons left

Diana gives in and takes him to the Andromeda Mall for a spa day so she can finally coo over him in relative privacy

When it ends, Bruce goes back to his old suit with no comment. He barely addresses the change and, aside from a few wayward jokes, people move on. But if they look closely, they'd see how the claws remain, and the springing support near his ankles

Selina leaves for a time after she realizes he wants to pretend it never happened and their increasing arguments were no longer tempered by sex. Bruce pretends it's not ironic that he'd lose two cat aspects of his life at once

Clark comes home late a few weeks later and finds Lois in her armchair and Bruce there with popcorn and X-Files queued up. Bruce sits on the opposite end of the couch, but he doesn't seem to mind when Clark tucks his legs up on the cushions and rests his feet against Bruce's thigh

Everyone still gives him cat toys too often

Selina spots Bruce in the lobby of her favourite ballet and the frills of a black lace choker are peaking out of his collar. She smiles

(Also for the next 4 years Hal will only show Batman as a cat during strategy simulations)

Anyway. Cat Bruce <33

[comradeocean]

"I have found myself talking out loud to you, hoping you can hear me" is a bonkers way for a celebrity to begin a public memorial statement less than 24 hrs after the death happened by someone who has possibly not personally spoken to the dead person in question for almost ten years. I cannot stop thinking about it.

In 2013, Channel 4 did a documentary called Crazy About One Direction that featured a number of high octane waaaay out there fans. I think the band was asked about it during an interview; Louis and the others basically disavowed it, saying it was an unfair representation of girls who like One Direction and the fanbase in general. He wasn't being totally selfless in sticking up for the fans, because some of those girls were profoundly sad and lonely, maybe unwell. And if your mission is to be marketed as a fun-loving carefree boyband, the last thing you'd want to be associated with are young, maladjusted, friendless girls.

Anyway, at one point, one of the girls interviewed says:

Twitter is like a prayer place. When you go to a prayer place, you feel like you’re connected to God. So when you’re on twitter, you feel like you’re connected to 1D. You just have hope. [audio description alt-text: an image of Louis as Jesus Christ]

Zayn is also the only one of the boys to have crossposted his message to twitter.

The thing about One Direction being an accident, sure, a manufactured accident, but an accident nonetheless, is that they were guileless going in, and it showed. I've been mainlining old videos this week, trying to compare those early xfactor days with their contemporaries who were trying to break out around the same time. With everyone else, it was always a band full of Liams: intensely driven little freaks. Sorry, freak is maybe too mean a word to describe that particular mix of hunger and desperation to be accomplished, to be famous, and at the bottom of it all: to be liked. There's been a conscious shaping of the persona in service of those goals: they've learned to dance, to perform, to give pitches, soundbites, hit camera marks on cue. Most of them were also older, in their early to mid twenties. It's not inconceivable to imagine such a trajectory for the most diehard theatre kid you knew from school who decided after uni or whatever ~ to follow their dreams ~. That was the more typical boyband background. (not Liam though. lad was fourteen. he was closer to another subspecies of the genus: the child star)

And 1D in contrast were unpracticed, unstudied, as Zayn put it in that slightly off-kilter way of his (which I always imagine to be indicative of a disjunction between the vocabulary one encounters in school and what everyone around them is used to speaking), "novice children."

Like, truly, they did not give a fuck cos it hadn't yet occurred to them they were supposed to. Liam aside, industry norms were a complete mystery to them, and for many years, they managed to inhabit that sweet spot of flippancy without contempt, whether it was about the project, themselves, or their audience. Liam tells the story about being the go-between for xfactor stylists and the boys and getting into so much trouble on their behalf for wearing human-sized babygrows during a video diary. "Because Westlife would never wear those." [The punchline he then delivers is that Westlife members were pictured wearing onesies soon after. (quite possibly due to how viral anything 1D-related got)]

The boys were so immature. The whole boyband thing had fallen into their laps. They were just happy to be there! This thing that they didn't even know they wanted, they somehow got, and it took the shape of four other boys in exactly the same situation. It comes across very strongly how taken they were with themselves and each other. Find yourself a guy who looks at you the way blah Larry Stylinson blah blah Ziam blah blah blah. Never mind that cos they were all actually so hyped with each other. Any time any of them says anything remotely clever, or funny, or notable, the rest of them lose their shit like they're in on the same hilarious joke. Even if there was no actual joke. Their entire existence at that point was the joke bc how on earth had they landed from where they'd been — small deadend towns hollowing out from deindustrialization — to where they ended up — the xfactor house headed for the very top about to win it all, in the way they did — saved from bootcamp elimination at the last minute, with who they did — four other working class boys they would have never been friends with in another life. It must have been a high like a kind of limerence, like finding long lost family members on the exact same wavelength, like love.

And that was the other key thing about the stratospheric rise of One Direction. We didn't love One Direction only because we loved this or that member. We loved them because they loved each other, because they loved themselves, because they loved us. And they used the internet to show it.

In 2010, mass social media platforms were in their nascence, which is to say, the exploration of how to be a person, with other people, online, at a broad level not limited to specific subcultures, was in its nascence. For many years now, given the levels of extreme over-exposure, the dominant mood has become the mortifying ordeal of being perceived and so on. We've somehow all adopted mini-celebrity mindsets of our own, weary of being exposed to the maw of an unseen public. To be known is to be surveilled.

But the boys individually and at the collective level invited surveillance back then. Because the inverse — to be surveilled is to be known — seemed more relevant for that moment, at the beginning. They made a point of living their newfound lives at least partially online.

They were constantly on twitter, they livestreamed with a dedication that rivaled x-factor video producers, and none more so than Liam. It was already reality tv, this was just the next bleeding edge of "real": the unfiltered, unedited, direct sharing of yourself and what you loved in the last days of the old free-as-in-freedom internet.

When they said, over and over again, that it was all about the fans, it was meant in a very literal sense. Social media and the reality it created produced a feedback loop between the love they had for each other and the band, and the love we had for them, until it was inseparable: their relationships, our relationships, the process itself. Parasociality as it is currently manifested might have found its first mass expression through One Direction.

In separate interviews from This is Us (2013) deleted scenes, Liam and Louis say that Zayn wears his heart on his sleeve. Yet within the best-friends-slash-brothers-for-life schema cultivated as the One Direction vibe, he did not seem necessarily exceptional in his frequent declarations of love and fellow-feeling for various band mates. What he did ultimately end up doing was pulling the trigger on the contractual form their relationships were bound within, such that the I-love-you's inevitably passed from unpracticed to rote to a mandatory matter of their livelihoods. Someone had to be the first to explicitly and consciously decide that this "love" was no longer something they could continue participating in.

From the same set of deleted interview, in a somewhat fitting twist of symmetry, Louis and Zayn go on and on (much longer than Niall or Harry) about how Liam had been the serious and sensible one, but they've managed to corrupt him a little. It makes sense to assume that Zayn is referring to the band in general, but one can also read it to mean the two of them specifically, being the eldest, and their meta-cognition of the terms and conditions imposed by One Direction as a phenomenon.

The love the members of One Direction had for each other and the band and the fans was undeniably "real." The making of that "realness" was conditioned by the x factor throwing together four boys who had very little reference for what the fuck they had gotten themselves into, and Liam. Liam was the intermediary. He was already a creature twisted up and contorting, trying his level best to wedge himself into whatever spaces there could be found in the juggernaut of the entertainment industry. His neuroses and anxieties made the rest of One Direction possible, made One Direction "real" and "not like the other boybands" because that DNA, that what-not-to-do instruction manual could just be crammed into him, and the rest of them could be let loose into the world, unburdened by expectation, free to not give a fuck.

Louis and Zayn's raw, unpolished, typo-ridden letters were the most direct and irrefutable way they knew to swear fidelity to the boy they knew, the band they built, and the lives they lived together. The unfathomable ether of the internet, of the fans, of the massed publics seen and unseen made them, it destroyed their senses of self in ways they could weather until they couldn't, and it's into this ether they send their words, their grief, something real of themselves. Because in the universe of One Direction, this is the orthopraxis by which one proclaims one's faith and one's hopes. This is the prayer place that transcends distance, time, even death. This is how their brother could somehow, some way, still feel their love.

[twilightkitkat]

Part 2 of thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 1 , Part 3, Part 4

---

It'd been a few days since Wade had revealed the truth to Wolverine.

He'd expected things to be awkward, for them to fight over it, for Other-Logan to pull away so that his previous annoyance-indifference would look warm in comparison.

But, shockingly, things had gotten... easier?

Wolverine seemed more comfortable with him, becoming more talkative than before (which wasn't exactly hard to top, but progress is progress). Instead of yanking away the second Wade got too close for comfort, he'd let him brush by him, close enough that Wade could feel his body heat through the seat. Instead of sitting a respectable five feet away at all times, Other-Logan now sat at a friendly distance, close enough to sling an arm around his shoulder if Wade was in a particularly masochistic mood.

It was nice to feel like he had companionship in a world where he knew no one. It was comfortable. It reminded him of his own Logan sometimes, when he could close his eyes and drown out his thoughts and pretend that he was on a mission with Logan in his world instead of in the middle of fucking nowhere with a shitty knockoff.

Well, "shitty knockoff" is a harsh way to put it. This Logan wasn't that bad (he was certainly less anger-prone than his counterpart). It just... wasn't the same. It's like wanting a bowl of Lucky Charms at 2am so you go to a Dollar General and buy a copycat brand to satisfy your craving. Yes, it's similar, but no, it isn't the same.

And fuck, did Wade feel his Logan's absence.

It'd especially hit at night, when Wade was used to curling up on the pull-out couch with Logan beside him and pretending that he was shuffling closer so he wouldn't fall off the edge.

(They both were able to sleep in far more precarious positions. A perk of the job. But under the veil of darkness, they were able to pretend that they weren't vying for touch just to have it. To feel the warmth of someone else next to them. To know that they were both alive and safe and, despite everything, here with each other.)

But, even if Wade curled in on himself at night, feeling the chill in his bones despite the luxurious blankets in the mansion or whatever insulating sleeping bag he was using, he was fine.

So fine, in fact, that it didn't bother him at all that it'd been nearly a week since he arrived in this universe. Not that he was counting. (He was.)

Logan was probably fine. Wade would send him a message or something, let him know that he was okay and that the mission was just taking longer than expected, but interdimensional texting hadn't yet been invented. Or, at least, the TVA bastards were cheap enough to not let him access it.

Besides, they'd been making progress. They were finally working their way up to beating The Big Bad, to telling whatever evil organization was plotting to destroy this timeline to fuck off and go to hell.

As a matter of fact, they were on their way to a particularly promising lead right now. All the henchmen they've managed to get information out of seemed to point their fingers to the same place, some discreet nuclear power plant that had been shut down a decade ago. (Real original, guys. Why don't supervillains ever set up base in a less stereotypical place? Like a public park or an Olive Garden. But nooooo, it always had to be the shady abandoned government facilities.)

"You seem to be thinking real hard over there, bub," Wolverine remarked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, y'know, just the usual, like what your abs would taste like if I covered them in whipped cream. Would it be more salty, or sweet? Do you think they'd taste metallic if you'd been roughed up lately?" Wade slid back into his typical persona instead of lingering on his unhelpful desire to mope around until he could go home.

Other-Logan snorted. "I think you're thinking way too hard about my abs when you should be focusing on your plan for when we get to the base."

Wade pouted, "Awwww, c'mon, Wolvie, don't you know that my pleasure comes before our job? You only live once, fuck capitalism and all that."

"Without capitalism, you wouldn't have the money to get 'pleasure,'" Logan deadpanned.

"Ah yes, you're right. I'm but a humble servant to the almighty Capitalism King. I shall kill and show no mercy as long so long as my king asks for it." Wade clutched a hand over his heart dramatically, voice imitating sincerity but a few pitches too high.

Logan just shook his head and chuckled, trying and failing to suppress the grin that threatened to stretch across his face.

It looked good on him. A far cry from the serious, no-nonsense, version he'd first encountered. Who knew all it took to have someone open their heart to you was revealing you were besties in an alternate universe?

"We're here," Logan grunted, smirk falling off his face as he climbed out of the vehicle.

"Fucking finally! One hour longer and I think I'd puke all over your shiny yellow suit," Wade whined obnoxiously. Logan elbowed him harshly in response. Ouch. Manners.

The base was exactly what you'd expect. Just run down enough to not attract suspicion but just well-kept enough to be home to some freaky villain technology.

And, also as expected, as soon as they entered a blaring alarm went off. Flashing red lights and all. Just great, exactly what he needed today. Wade was definitely going to end up with a headache by the end of this raid. They're lucky he didn't have epilepsy or he'd sue them.

Wolverine didn't seem to be faring much better, judging by his furrowed eyebrows and how he was barely holding back a grimace.

They make quick work of whatever lackeys they find as they tear their way through the halls. They'd definitely improved their synchronization during the time they'd spent fighting together (mainly on Wolverine's part).

Finally, they arrive at some sort of convoluted metal dome with a suspiciously alien-looking machine in the middle. It didn't seem to be an exact replica of the Time Ripper Wade knew, but it was close enough to make an educated guess about its purpose. (An educated wish, some may say.)

Unfortunately, it wasn't left unguarded.

Some old-looking bald guy (never a good sign) with a metal arm (again, never a good sign) was holding a suspiciously futuristic gun. (Who is this, Cable's long-lost twin with a receding hairline gene?)

Deadpool unsheathed one of his katanas, gripping his gun tightly with his other hand. Wolverine shifted into a battle stance beside him.

"And what do we have here?" The man drawled, his piercing gaze sweeping over them both. "Deadpool and... Wolverine? An interesting team-up." Despite this, he didn't seem too surprised. If anything, he seemed to be glancing warily at Wolverine beside him.

"I don't have time to listen to your monologue, how about you just undo whatever fucky-wucky stuff you did to the timeline and we all head our separate ways, yeah?" Wade was nothing if not merciful for offering this fucker a chance to stand down before it got ugly.

"I don't think so," the man huffed, as if he found it amusing that he'd even suggest that. He was starting to get on Wade's nerves.

"Then let's cut the chit-chat and get straight to the ass beating." Deadpool nodded at Wolverine, who smirked almost imperceptibly.

They both lunged at the same second, Wolvie swiping at the bastard's head while Deadpool fired at his legs and torso.

Oh fuck, this guy has a regenerative healing factor too, Wade groaned internally when he saw the bullet wounds stitch themselves up. Just his luck.

The battle was more difficult than expected, but they managed to hold up fairly well by bouncing off each other's attacks. When Wade moved in, Logan moved out. When Wolverine sunk in his claws, Deadpool fired his gun or slashed with his katana.

That was until the bastard injected himself with some sort of serum, like a heroin addict stopping to shoot up during a fight.

That better not be what I think it is, Wade grimaced.

It was exactly what he thought it was.

Fighting a meaner-looking, more equipped version of Cable was hard enough, but on steroids? Wolverine and Deadpool soon began to lag behind. Even their teamwork couldn't help much when the opponent was that much stronger and they both were becoming exhausted.

However, Deadpool saw an opening. The fucker wasn't guarding his flank properly. And so, without warning, he flipped over the asshole's head and slashed at his side at the same moment Logan sank his claws into his neck. (Yay, teamwork!)

It seemed to hit some sort of weak point because the man slumped down onto the ground, unconscious. Wade sighed in relief and walked over to Logan.

"Hey man, I don't know about you, but when we get out of here I think we should get some chimichangas to celebrate—"

Bang.

Wade was flung into the wall with the sheer force of whatever futuristic weapon the man shot him with. Fucking rat bastard.

His head began spinning with the force at which he'd been full-body slammed against the wall. His vision was blurred and it was hard to make out shapes, but it seemed that Logan was having the same issue, given the red, blue, and yellow spot on the wall opposite him.

His vision was dancing with black dots and colors bled together, but through the haze he could make out the man they'd fought getting up and limping away, seemingly talking to someone as he did so.

Wade groaned and tried to lift his hand up to feel the wound on his head when he noticed. There were fragments embedded in his suit where he'd hidden it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

In his haze, he managed to yank the tattered remains out of a device from his suit. Oh shit. It was broken.

How the hell was he supposed to get home now?

He didn't have time to linger on the question before darkness overtook his vision.

---

Logan paced back and forth on the shitty hardwood floors of their one-bedroom apartment.

Where the hell was he?

Wade was supposed to be back a month ago. Hell, the mission was only supposed to take a day and he said he'd be back for dinner that night.

But then that night passed, and Wade didn't show. Logan had waited at the table, bouncing his lex anxiously (although he'd deny it if anyone asked) long after Al reluctantly went to sleep and Mary Puppins settled down for the night. He remembered waiting, staring blankly at his plate but unable to stomach a bite, until he finally decided to put their food in the fridge to reheat later. He felt vaguely nauseous at the idea of eating peacefully while Wade was still frolicking about, fighting bad guys (and potentially getting hurt).

Logan fell asleep in that position, his head resting on his arms, hyperaware and jolting awake at the slightest sound. Waiting to hear the jingle of the doorknob and the sound of Wade shuffling in.

When Wade came back, Logan would tell them that he didn't care what the mission was about or what type of universe it was, he'd come with him next time. No room for arguments. He'd rather be bleeding and bruised by Wade's side than feel the gnawing emptiness and anxiety of being apart from him.

Logan never dealt well with separation. Not when it came to Wade. The only person who made this universe he'd barged his way into a home. The one who'd looked at him—a pathetic, miserable, drunk, mess—and still asked him to come home with him. The only person to make him feel like he belonged somewhere, to someone. That he wasn't just an unwanted, shunned monster who could only be loved for the destruction he could cause.

When Wade was gone, it felt like he was alone again. Like he was back in that shitty universe where even the fucking bartender refused him service unless he begged. Where everyone mocked him or shied away but nobody looked him in the eyes.

Wolverine was used to being alone. He'd been alone, in one way or another, for as long as he could remember.

But that's why he latched violently, viciously, desperately, onto the first lifeboat he could. The first person to yank his head above the water and welcome him onto their raft without expecting anything.

The next morning came and Wade still hadn't come back.

Logan tried to convince himself that it was just taking a second longer, that maybe he'd encountered an obstacle, that everything was still okay.

(Don't be overbearing, Logan. If he sees what a needy, writhing, mess you are then he won't want to be around you anymore. He'll finally wise up and leave you behind like everyone else. Like how you deserve. He'll finally see you for the pathetic creature you are instead of the delusion of a man he's been holding onto.)

But then that day turned into two. Turned into three. Turned into nearly a week in which he hadn't heard a word from Wade.

(Accept things how they are, Logan. Take the warmth you can get and savor it, clutch it so tight to your chest that your fingers bleed, and don't ask for more. Don't ruin this.)

Blind Al had tried saying something, once, about how Wade might just be running that. That he was having troubles, you know how it is (but even she had a worried crease to her brow, the slightest bit of hesitation that spoke volumes). Logan had grunted something he couldn't remember and kept pacing.

It felt like every day was an endless loop. Wake up, choke down what food he could, and wait anxiously. Wait to see if Wade would stroll through the door.

Until one night, he snapped. He'd just gotten out of the shower (the first he'd taken in a while, with how difficult it was to focus on anything but Wade Wade Wade Where is Wade Where—) when he noticed Wade's shitty music box was playing. The one he had of him.

He saw red. The next thing he knew, he stood in a completely trashed living room. Chairs were knocked over and splintered, bottles were shattered, and blood was splattered across the walls from where he'd raked his claws up and down his arms in a desperate attempt to get out of his skin because it was burning so badly and he just wanted to crawl inside Wade instead of being trapped in a useless fucking husk of a mindless animal—

He barely scraped the room back together by the time Al got back. He knew she was able to tell, but she didn't say anything. Just sat down on the tattered couch and murmured something that suspiciously sounded like Wade's name.

Logan was barely functioning. It was a Good Day if he managed to eat, shower, and not drink himself into a stupor by night. Every day that went by made the knot in his stomach twist further until he could barely remember what it felt like to not be on edge constantly.

(He knew it was pathetic. That he should be better than this. That he shouldn't need Wade to babysit him to make him want to eat and sleep and shower and do all the things that normal people were expected to just do. He knew that he shouldn't revert back to a state of depression and anxiety when he was gone but Logan didn't know what to do. He'd been fucked up for so long that he didn't know what okay meant anymore, didn't know to just breathe without clenching his teeth and forcing his lungs to expand and contract.)

(The only time he got relief from the reminder of who he was and what he'd done was with Wade, who knew him and still somehow wanted him. Who made him feel normal, like he could just be Logan and live a domestic life as a borderline househusband in their apartment. Who made him feel like he had a future and a chance at happiness again.)

At first, he could convince himself that it was just the mission holding him up. That he was being unreasonable. (Why didn't Wade just take him along to begin with? He'd let Wade talk as long as he wanted, take the lead, and annoy him however he liked as long as he could be with him.)

But then doubt began creeping in. What if Wade realized that he really was the Worst Wolverine? What if this universe's Wolverine was better than him—nicer, stronger, less fucked up—and Wade preferred him. He wouldn't blame him. Hell, he knew Wade only settled on him because of a time crunch and the fact that he didn't claw his eyes out immediately. If Wade had more time, he would've gone with a better option.

(Logan chose to ignore the instinctive dread he felt at that thought. What if Wade hadn't come for him? What if he found another Wolverine and he was left to be drunk and miserable for the rest of his life, never knowing Wade's presence? The thought made him physically ill.)

But Wade, despite what people said, was a man of his word. He kept his promises and tried to avoid lying. Even if he did decide to fuck off and find another Logan, he'd tell him first. He'd let him know, at least.

As the time crept closer to a month, Logan's anxiety reached an all-time high. If Wade was taking this long, something must've gone horribly wrong. He's in danger.

Logan couldn't pace back and forth anymore, listening to the TVA rattle excuse after excuse when he called them to ask for an update. (It's confidential, they said. Don't worry, they said. Eventually, they got so used to him calling—without fail, twice a day, once in the morning and once at night—that they'd immediately forward him to the line he needed. And they'd always give the same excuses.)

Not anymore.

Logan was going to find Wade, even if he had to rip the whole fucking TVA or multiverse apart to do so.

---

Wade groaned, slamming his forehead against the counter before eating another spoonful of cereal.

The X-men still hadn't found a way to fix his universe-hopping device. To be fair, back in his universe it'd taken a while to fix Cable's time-jumping one, and Wade's sure that dimensional travel adds a whole new level of complexity. The TVA does not fuck around with their technology.

That being said, at least the rest of the X-men were starting to take the timeline issue seriously. They'd finally all decided to pitch in and try investigating on their own time.

"Look alive a little, bub, we're going on a mission today." Logan eyed Wade as he continued to eat his high-protein classic bacon and scrambled eggs breakfast.

The other X-men eyed them curiously. Logan had been acting differently as of late. Ever since Deadpool had come to their world and began hanging around him, he'd softened around the edges. He'd become a little more open, actively engaging with conversation instead of tuning in and out.

It was... nice to see him close to someone. To see him look at someone with an odd sort of affection visible in his eyes. Even if it was a little jarring.

(A few wondered what Wade had done to earn his affection. How a single man could swoop in and do what they'd been trying to do for years. What was so special about him? Why couldn't they reach him earlier? What were they doing wrong?)

It was good to see him be close to someone. Even if it stung a little that Wade made more progress in a month than they'd made this entire time.

Aside from that, the X-men had been able to interact with Wade more ever since he started spending a bit more time at the mansion.

When he'd gotten knocked out and his dimensional travel device broken, it'd taken a few days for him to fully regenerate (and mentally recuperate). During that time, him and Logan seem to have developed an odd kinship. A casual, friendly relationship where they eat meals together and occasionally, in between missions, watch shows together, or just... talk.

It was a little unnerving to see Logan so willing to act almost domestically with someone else. Of course, the X-men had managed to coax Logan into hanging out with them more casually. And sometimes, they'd gotten the privilege of seeing how his shoulders would relax and he'd become content to just listen and soak up the company. But those occasions were few and far between, and Logan's default state was to keep a certain degree of distance.

Wade had begun to interact with the other X-men, too. He'd taken to teasing Colossus to pay him back for the many headaches he'd given him in his world. Logan often trailed a few steps behind, trying and failing to pretend to be engaged with something else while keeping an eye on Wade. It'd be endearing, almost, if it wasn't so out of character for him.

Unfortunately, after the villain had escaped, their luck seemed to dry up. They'd only gotten a few leads since, and all were dead ends. With too much time to spare and too much pent-up energy (and anxiety to some degree over being away from his world for so long), Wade accompanied Wolverine on a few of his other missions.

Wade sighed and pushed away the remainder of his cereal. Well, there went his appetite. Thinking about his world and his Logan was a surefire way to kill his mood.

(It made him feel sick to think about how Logan was faring without him. To question when he'd get to see him again. To remember that this wasn't His Logan. It was always uncomfortable to be away from him for too long, to feel the same loneliness settle inside him like an old friend. What a joke. He saved the world just so he could whine about how he wanted it to revolve around him.)

(Logan never made him feel that way. He understood how it felt to lose everyone and still tremor at the thought. He understood the struggle of knowing you'd outlive everyone you love. He understood because they'd been through it together. Because they'd shared their pain and their feelings and their hearts and bared themselves, raw and vulnerable and bloody, before each other and still sacrificed themselves for each other anyway.)

"Not in the mood?" Logan asked. "Y'know, we have other types of cereal. Think they keep Captain Crunch or Cheerios or some shit around here."

And Wade almost screamed in frustration.

It was so stupid. Logan was trying to help. But Other-Logan wasn't His Logan.

His Logan knew that he hated that type of cereal. That he drenched his pancakes in syrup. That he was a picky bitch with food and would only eat certain brands. He'd learned to cook food just for him so that he could eat comfortably.

He was about to take a few centering, deep breaths (never claim he doesn't know how to be zen) before an alarm blared.

"There's been a break-in in the main lobby of the mansion!" someone shouted.

Huh. That's a convenient way to get information. A very good way to move the plot along.

The X-men around him were tense, drawing their weapons and preparing to investigate who dared intrude. Wade got ready too, drawing his baby knife just in case. (Not that he really can take the moral high ground here, considering he did the same just a month ago.)

Other-Logan glanced at him from the corner of his eye and Wade nodded. The two slinked along the walls, braced for an attack.

Loud crashing noises could be heard from the lobby. Furniture slammed against the wall, shattering into a million splinters (strong ass motherfucker, it seems). There was yelling and screaming and... growling?

The cacophony got louder as they drew closer. Except, Wade began to recognize the sounds. They were distinct, clear, and... familiar.

Too familiar.

Holy shit.

"Logan?" he breathed, and then he was darting out from behind the wall even as Other-Logan let out an aborted shout and attempted to grab his arm.

He slipped through his grip and turned the corner, and lo and behold, there he was.

His Logan.

He was snarling, claws unsheathed and raised to attack the people who swarmed him. They all seemed terrified and incredibly confused (given that he had the same face as one of the X-men themselves), but seemed to recognize him as an enemy and were making a quite frankly pathetic attempt to fight back.

He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead and eyes darting around anxiously. He had a feral look on his face, like a cornered animal that had just escaped his captors.

His eyes were somehow distant and hyper-focused, as if he was running on pure adrenaline without really registering anything.

He looked furious. He looked serious. (He looked scared.)

It was the sweetest sight he'd ever seen in his life.

"Peanut!" Wade shouted, pushing through the people who crowded around.

Logan's head snapped in his direction immediately, body trembling.

"Wolvie! Babygirl!" he continued to yell out nicknames as he drew closer, finally elbowing past the last line of unhelpful bystanders.

"Logan," he murmured breathlessly, reverently, at finally getting to see him again. To see him up close and personal.

As soon as he muttered the word, Logan pounced.

From behind him, Other-Logan and a few of the X-men yelled for him to move out of the way, that he was hostile.

But Wade knew that face. Knew those eyes.

This wasn't just A Logan, this was His Logan.

(His Logan, who knew how he liked his pancakes. Who listened to him rant about stupid conspiracy theories and children's shows. Who had gone through hell and back with him just to help him save his family. Who he'd slowly, painstakingly built a home with.)

And so Wade simply opened his arms and offered a shaky, wet, smile as Logan barreled into him, wrapping around him like he'd die if he let go for a second. Digging his fingers (with the claws retracted, luckily) into his back and gripping onto the fabric of his suit like a lifeline. Shivering against him as if he were a man stranded in a blizzard, finally able to huddle up against a fireplace.

And oh.

Logan was crying, hot tears trailing down the curve of Wade's neck and soaking his suit as Logan nuzzled closer, desperately.

When Wade went to stroke the back of Logan's head and brushed against his own damp face, he realized he was crying too.

He'd been trying so desperately to push down his feelings. Of frustration, of anger, of sadness (of fear). To pretend he didn't miss Logan like he missed air, to pretend that the separation wasn't putting him on edge.

He knew that Logan would worry about him. Wade wasn't that oblivious. But he didn't think Logan would be nearly full-body sobbing against him, rocking back and forth, trying to convince himself that Wade was real.

"Please, never do that again. Don't leave."

And oh.

Wade knew that Logan cared. Knew that Logan would be upset, would miss him, if he disappeared or died. Logically, he knew that.

But Wade was used to being seen as annoying. To being someone people could begrudgingly tolerate, maybe occasionally find funny, but never actively want. Was used to being seen as lesser.

Physically, he was a freak. Mentally, he was a wreck. Emotionally, he was one bad day away from trying (and failing, yet again) to end it all.

He didn't understand how someone could want him. Could need him. Could make him their whole world and cradle it in their hands like his absence would be the collapse of their very foundation.

And yet, here Logan was.

When Wade considered it, it was obvious in hindsight. Logan may respond to his insults, and may be up for a fight, but he never actually seemed to be bothered by Wade. When Wade called him stupid nicknames, he may grumble out a response, but never showed actual annoyance. When Wade slung an arm around his shoulder, he'd let it rest there or lean in closer instead of pushing it off. When Wade goaded him into a fight, he'd rise to the challenge but never unsheathe his claws unless Wade drew out his knives, too.

In fact, he'd only shown true irritation when they'd first met. When Wade had kidnapped him and turned his life on his head. When they were struggling under high-stress situations while Logan grappled with grief.

Logan... more than cared. More than tolerated his existence. More than reluctantly put up with him.

The realization was so obvious and yet it hit Wade like a freight train. This whole time, he'd been trying to convince himself that his feelings were one-sided, that he was abnormal for latching so hard onto Logan while he only humored him in response.

He'd let his self-hatred blind him to the most obvious fact of all: Logan needed him too.

He clutched Logan's back tighter, murmuring reassurances and apologies into the top of his head.

"I'm not leaving you, Wolvie," Wade whispered, "you'll have to kill me to get me to stop haunting your ass."

Logan grumbled, "You aren't allowed to die on me. You can't leave. Ever."

"I won't, I won't. You came and got me. I'm not going anywhere."

While Wade and Logan had their reunion, the crowds were herded away until only a few X-men remained. They stared at the two, bewildered.

"...Is that seriously Logan?" Jean murmured to Scott.

"It looks like him... but..." he gestured to the scene in front of them.

They'd never seen Logan break down before. Had never seen him so vulnerable. He'd never let anyone as close as he was to Wade, right now. Not even a fraction as much.

They cast contemplative and vaguely concerned glances at their world's Logan. He was staring hollowly at the scene in front of him.

It was so... odd to see himself like that. Open. Emotional. (Safe enough to let himself be that way.)

Wade had never acted that way with him, either. Tears welling up in his eyes, looking at Logan as if he hung the stars in the sky and set his universe back in balance again.

(Logan looked back at him with the same fervency, as if Wade was his universe. The stars and the sun and the planets all in one.)

It made that familiar envy curl in his gut. Before, it'd been muted by the fact that Wade's Logan was just a story. He was the one physically with him, able to get to know him and learn about him and get his undivided attention and time.

It felt nice. To be understood. To be able to treat someone as an equal, a companion, without worrying about them pulling away if he revealed too much. He'd gotten used to Wade's presence, to the comfort it brought.

However, it looked like he was going to have to confront the version of him that made it all possible.

Wade and Logan had finally calmed down, holding each other more loosely and letting the tension bleed away. Logan nearly collapsed onto Wade as he came down from the adrenaline high, feeling the exhaustion and anxiety of the past month hit him all at once. He was in Wade's arms and finally able to process his emotions now that he was home.

Other-Logan approached them carefully, schooling his face into the typical mask of calculated indifference.

However, despite that, there was a sharpness to his tone as he tersely spoke to his counterpart, "Nice to meet you, other me. It seems you've managed to find your way into our mansion."

"Yeah, well, the mansion was holding something of mine, so let's call it even," Logan near growled, glaring at himself.

It'd almost be funny if not for the tension crackling in the air between them.

"Woah, woah, woah," Wade placated, "we've all made our mistakes. I'm guilty too, your honor. Let me just have some time alone with dear Wolvie here and we can all have a group therapy session later to talk about our feelings."

Other-Logan looked at Wade, a searching look in his eyes. Wade met his gaze steadily, smiling slightly to reassure him that it'd be OK.

Finally, he sighed and moved away to let the other X-men gawk.

It was going to be a long night.

[roesworks]

my marauder's sex headcannons

james, sirius, and remus x female reader

WORD COUNT : 723

i wanna feed you guys (after literally a year) so enjoy my personal headcannons

james potter -

he is a certified switch. he leans more on the dominant side, but sometimes he just has a need to be told what to do.

when you're on top, without a doubt he is calling you mommy. not to mention, he will whine. he's always whining.

plus he will NEVER SHUT UP.

HE WILL ALWAYS PRAISE YOU.

"you're doing so good f'me, my love."

and he will never hit you or degrade you. he thinks that's just plain mean.

sex should be fun. he does it often so that he can skip out of doing cardio. killing two birds with one stone.

on the aspect of cardio, though, james can last a long time. he could go the entire night if he really wanted to.

"please just one more. one more, i promise."

he's a big guy, so you already KNOW that dick is at LEAST nine inches.

"it won't fit-" "-i'll make it fit."

HE LOVES THE STOMACH BULGE

fucking under the cloak.

while he doesn't like to hit you, he is most definitely leaving accidental bruises from gripping you so hard.

he'd rather grip your arm than the mattress. he loves feeling you.

he's probably the loudest moaner in the entire wizarding world.

he enjoys moaning your name so much that if you didn't cast a silencing charm then everyone in hogwarts would hear him.

he loves your boobs. whether they're big or small, he is most definitely sucking them and leaving them polka dotted by the end of the night.

and literally every night he's with you. sex or not. he's latching his lips onto your nipples and sucking the life out of them like they're lollipops.

he is without a doubt an experimentalist.

like whenever he finds a new position or just a new kinky idea, he's going to bring it up to you.

most of the time, you enjoy it. other times, it's just a one time thing.

he tells you he loves you all the time. it's all part of his 'never-shuts-up' persona.

sirius black -

dom. without a doubt.

"who's pussy is this?" "yours."

he likes making you cry. tears of pleasure are his favorite.

degradation is never out of the question.

and "my little slut."

while that is the case, he will, 'talk you through it' if you will.

"finish for me, baby."

100% getting off to you screaming his name.

he's definitely an ass guy. he likes groping it and hitting it whenever he gets the chance.

he's a little on the smaller side, but he definitely makes up for it in width.

he is very. VERY. loud.

he can last a SOLID three or four rounds.

ngl, he looooves bondage.

lets be real, he keeps a black rope in his nightstand.

he will most DEFINITELY tease you with his wand.

or he'll LITERALLY stick it up there.

honestly, he just likes to tease you in general.

pussy checks in public ALLLL THE TIME.

sometimes if you're wet enough, he will just do it with you on the spot.

"wet already, baby?"

he wants everyone to know that you're his, so he takes measures by leaving hickeys all over you, especially in noticeable places.

LOVES seeing you ride him.

he is 100% stealing james' cloak and doing it with you under it.

remus lupin -

a switch, but much more on the submissive side. so basically a sub.

he will literally get off on getting told what to do. and frankly he prefers being a pillow princess.

he definitely starts off quiet, like a whimper here and there,

and then as he gets more and more comfortable with you, (like around your third time) his whimpers become louder and louder.

he is a SOLID seven inches.

he will do some pretty kinky stuff with you.

like experimenting with candle wax. because he was curious, obviously.

and this guy has a huge thing for period sex. not that you mind it, it helps you forget about your cramps.

the rare times that he's on top, he is the sweetest ever.

"you feel so good."

you've done it in the library a few several times... in the restricted section. nobody has to know that, though.

he loves how you taste and will always tell you that.

your boobs are one of his most favorite things about you.

bite bite bite

and he loves touching you.

anywhere he can get his hands on you he will caress you.

he doesn't really last more than three rounds, but,

there were definitely days where he was so into it that he just couldn't stop.

he loves receiving pleasure and praise soso much.

he's just a sweet boy.

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Pomefiore dorm (Vil, Epel, Rook) xGN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Vil's ideal type would be...

Someone who appreciates fashion. Vil is a person with very refined, particular taste. It's important for you to also appreciate his tastes, even if you don't know much about them, in order to stay by his side.

Someone who is open to criticism. Being on a personal mission to make himself and the world around him the best it can be, Vil works tirelessly to improve. And that energy extends to the people around him. If you are willing to pay attention to his wisdom and opinions, you are a person Vil can appreciate.

Someone who is proud to be his partner. The Queen of Pomefiore, Mr Schoenheit herself, deserved to be venerated... but Vil is not looking for someone to kiss the dirt he walks on. He knows his worth, but he just wants someone to be proud of being with him for being who he is, from his public persona to the little nerd who reads the latest potion studies.

Someone who can deal with his overwhelming life. Vil has high standards that are hard to meet, and combined with his hectic schedule and his diminished privacy, Vil knows he would have a very hard time to find someone strong enough to date him. But if you at least try to meet him in the middle and try to find a comfortable place for the both of you, he would surely reciprocate in kind.

『••✎••』

Epel's ideal type would be...

Someone he can be himself with. It's a known fact Epel has a hard time picking what parts of his genuine personality he can show to the world while following Vil's guidance, and the mask often slips. From slipping into his accent to scratching his hands while climbing trees, Epel would feel more comfortable if the mask fell with someone that likes to see those parts of him, too.

Someone who likes apples. Would you be surprised to know that the Harveston boy who pretty much breathes apples every day would think disliking apples is a deal breaker? You need to at least tolerate them. If you happen to have an apple allergy, you're on thin ice.

Someone he can be strong for. Epel has a very specific idea of what being a strong man means. While some of that image is not rooted in the best beliefs, Epel still thinks that partners are supposed to protect each other. If you're the only one being strong for him and treating him like a damsel in distress, it's gonna give his ego a huge hit.

Someone who waits for him to make the first move. An idea also rooted in what he thinks a strong man should be, Epel wants to prove his resolve in building a partnership by making the first move. It would take some time for him to do so, since he would need to deal with his whole "sappy romance is for losers" mentality first. But he'll appreciate you if you wait for him.

『••✎••』

Rook's ideal type would be...

Someone with a curious nature. Rook is in love with the whole known and unknown world, and wants to discover all of the world's beauties. And sometimes a hunter needs a right hand, following him closely and being part of the process. If you can be that for him, you'd get to see him at his most gleeful.

Someone who is open minded. A lover of beauty in all of its forms would need someone just as appreciative by his side. Even if you don't carry the same love he does, you can at least appreciate the things he does: trying to see the appeal of things he finds appealing would make his heart soar. After all, you're just trying to see a glimpse of the world through his eyes, non?

Someone who gives back the energy he gives to them. Rook's easily excitable nature can be off putting to some, and downright annoying to others. While he can deal with it, it can get exhausting. If you can respond to him with the same energy and try to meet him halfway, it would make his heart skip a beat.

Someone who can reign in his impulsive nature. Let's be honest, Rook is not known for his absolute patience. While he can monitor his targets until he gets what he wants, Rook can also jump into danger even if he is aware of the consequences. He needs you to grab his shoulder and look for alternatives, even if he would want you two to jump in together.

『••✎••』

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Lumberjack

König invites you to visit his hometown with him. There is a festival held there every year in celebration of the harvest. You go along thinking it will be like the fairs you went to growing up. Instead, it is a lumberjack festival with all things axes, chainsaws, and big burly men. König forgoes his mask for once in public. He fits in so well with the competitors that nobody stares at him, even with the scarring on his exposed skin.

There are plenty of familiar things here for you to enjoy, like candy floss, donuts, and caramel apples. You have a bit of a sweet tooth, after all. There are also unique things like dumplings in every flavor and spätzle and a dish you can't pronounce, but it seems like a cross between pancakes and a Dutch baby all chopped up. König has to fight to get a bite of that one from your plate.

He picks a front row seat to watch a showcase. You feel for the people behind him as he will absolutely be blocking their view. Right before the show is supposed to start, he excuses himself, leaving you baffled as he hurries away. When the emcee calls out König's public persona name, your jaw drops. He walks out from behind the backdrop shirtless with a large splitting maul in his hands, rolling and tossing it theatrically. Your eyes drag over his torso, taking in the purple and white scars and the way his abs flex as he stretches. You realize his finger is gesturing you to look up. Meeting his eyes, he has the most confident smirk on his face, making you blush.

He begins moving. He tosses the maul around like it is a toy, swinging it to split rounds of firewood in precise strikes. The spins he uses to build momentum make him look like he is dancing. His speed builds. Striking each one faster, he begins adding tricks, knocking one down with the back of the maul only to hit it in the air and split it perfectly against the ground and splitting large stacks all at once. Watching him in action is breathtaking. For most, it looks like this is the culmination of his hard work, but you know that this is simply practice for his real work.

His real work. The work where he uses a sledgehammer against human flesh on the battlefield. You can honestly say you've never been more turned on watching a man work and when he finishes, you beg him to find a quiet corner so you can show him your appreciation with your own private show. You tease him, saying that he will enjoy the clapping much more this time around.

[faulty-writes]

Maybe some headcanons where Bakugou, Tamaki, and Mirio are hit by a quirk that makes them behave mostly the opposite of themselves for a few days to a week.

Bakugou is kind and gentle towards the reader and so visibly in love. He's become quite the gentleman!

Tamaki is super energetic, extremely romantic, and declares his affections in front of at least his entire class.

And Mirio is so very, very gloomy but he's practically attached to the reader and says they're, "One of the precious few rays of light left in this gray, gray world."

[ I really like this request. Hah, personality changes are the best! ]

Katsuki's behavior shocked everyone, including you. Being his usual hot-headed self, he ended up in a quirk accident that changed his personality. When Mr. Aizawa assured you, the effects would be only temporary, you were grateful because Katsuki acting so…sweet, and gentle was just as frightful as when he was his usual self.

Normally, he would be protective of you, but now it's different. "Here, I don't want you to get wet," he said, holding the umbrella over you while he got soaked. "Nothing will happen to me, but someone like you shouldn't be caught out in the rain," he smiled sweetly at you while you trembled in response.

If someone talked to you in the wrong way, he'd pull you close and say, "Please don't speak that way to Y/n, they mean a lot to me, yeah?" Despite this, his loving gaze resembled his angry one and you tried to believe that the real Katsuki Bakugou was still somewhere inside him.

"Let's cuddle!" he would announce bluntly, no matter who was around. If you didn't respond fast enough, he'd pull you into his lap by force. He'd have his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

There was more thought put into your dates and he showed a greater interest in your hobbies. He would take you to your favorite restaurant or spend the evening in the dorm reading or watching a movie. He didn't get angry when others commented on how romantic or sappy he was, unlike before.

He could only react in anger when the effects of the quirk wore off and everyone shared the stories of what he did. "What the hell do you mean I did all that!?" He demanded, explosions sounding from his hands. It was only natural for you to smile because you missed the hotheaded Katsuki.

"Stay close to me, I love you so much…you're so kind and sweet and I can't bear to be apart from you!" To say Tamaki's reaction was surprising would be an understatement. It was like his hero persona times a thousand when he talked so bluntly about his affection for you. But his sudden personality change was credited to a quirk incident.

"I got these for you! They're so gorgeous, just like you. I…I just wanted to thank you for being my biggest fan and….love. I love you so much! I don't care who knows it!" He said after marching over to your desk in the morning and presenting you with the largest bouquet of flowers you had ever seen.

"Wow, another love letter for you! Guess this quirk accident brought out the more loving side of Amajiki, huh?" Nejire teased. It was clear she meant no harm, but Tamaki's love letters were beginning to get out of control. Since the incident, you must have found one to two in your locker every day.

During training exercises, it was normal for friends to cheer for you, but Tamaki took that to another level. The fact that he shouted your name enthusiastically and formed letters with his tentacles was endearing, but it was also distracting.

"Don't rub it off this time, okay!" He said, pressing a small kiss against your cheek. "I just want to kiss you forever!" he exclaimed trailing kisses across your reddened face. You hoped you wouldn't have to adjust to his lack of shame when it came to public affection.

"T-that's horrifying! W-why would I d-do all that!?" He squeaked out, hiding his face behind his hands as he appeared to be close to a panic attack. While part of you missed the proud and outspoken Tamaki, this version was the one you loved.

A quirk incident transformed Mirio into an emotional rollercoaster in a whole new way, and all the good parts of his personality vanished, leaving only doom and gloom behind.

As a result, he lost all his confidence and motivation, not to mention he questioned his purpose as a hero. "Don't get me wrong…having a quirk is great…but…my quirk is just so lame compared to others and if I don't have a cool, flashy quirk..then what's the point?" You wondered whether those were his real thoughts or if his mind was also thrown back to middle school.

"You're truly my only source of sunshine…the rest of this world is…dull and gray to me…" Mirio sought your company whenever and wherever he could, he didn't care if others were watching when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, almost as if he was trying to hide from the gray world he described.

As his self-confidence dwindled, he refused to attend class and skipped hero training. To your surprise, he began discussing new dreams unrelated to his previous lifelong dream of becoming a hero. These included exploring new interests and hobbies and you could only remain supportive.

"I can't stand this gloomy world without you. If you left…I don't know what I'd do…I'd just wither away," you assumed this was his way of expressing his gratitude that you hadn't abandoned him during the long week following the quirk accident.

"Hah! Wow, really? I can't believe that quirk accident made me think so negatively about becoming a hero and yes, my quirk may not be flashy but I can still save the world," he said after all the quirk effects wore off. Then he poked your nose and with a cheesy grin said, "Thanks for putting up with me! I totally owe you one!"