#i had a very active brain okay?

[bitchthefuck1]

you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.

There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.

[bluehairmisfit]

Not to make “tag vent sunday” a thing but Idk how I can go from having a great string of days where I feel happy and confident to just. Randomly fucking dropping. And feeling like the actual worst.

[daz4i]

starting to consider the option that i may not be the worst person on earth and i actually may even be p decent. will keep you updated as i find out more information

[skitskatdacat63]

Me rewatching True Detective, fully knowing of the fact that I'm incapable of being normal abt anything, and finding myself getting increasingly more insane about it as the days go on: ah look it's consequences of my actions

[suprsingr]

I have never in all my life had so many emotions about a tumblr poll but oh my GOD I'm so happy Garak won, lmao. That was so tense.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

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

Lurkers really are great, tho

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should we gatekeep fandom?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

Think of it like a garden gate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[flimsy-roost]

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[nothomegal]

"Kiss. Teach. Love!"

(Mr. Crawling x GN! Reader)

No way, NotHomeGal actually revived? Yup, I did. Homicipher brought me back to life from the depts of my creative burnout (o゜▽゜)o☆

This game really scratched a part of my brain I didn't know was there, but I'm not complaining!

And no, I won't be abandoning the slasher fandom, but I must say it will take some time to come back to write those right now, but I'll do my best to rekindle that spark!

Okay, enough of my yapping. Hope you enjoy this Oneshot (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Summary: after learning that sometimes objects from the human world may fall into the realm you're currently stuck in, it became a common activity for you to scavenge around the junk to pass time, and your ghost companion always seems so curious about it!

Warnings: none really just fluff, Mr. Crawling being too cute for a mortal soul to handle.

Side note: yeah just like in most (basically all) of my fics, MC (or Y/N) will be Gender Neutral! So everyone gets to enjoy the story with their favorite ghost man :]

AND! Here's the link of the dictionary I used for the fic to put ghost words heheerhkj.

Word count: 3.6k

It's been so long, they think at least. Time feels stuck in place, yet in the deepest part of (Y/N)'s conscience they know it's not true, that the time and everything outside these lifeless concrete walls is very much alive.

Life goes on, it keeps moving regardless if they feel it or not, time is passing just like it always did... Yet, they feel stuck. Numb. It's like their mind and soul are slowly melting, becoming one with this dimension they begrudgingly started to call "home", even if it's not... This is not their real home!...

It's not!...

It's not...

It's not...?

—"☨ д つ 々?"— (Sad)

A quiet gasp left (Y/N)'s lips when suddenly something brushed against their leg as that soft voice spoke next to them, that "something" being the very long, dark hair of their ghost companion.

They turn their head, almost flinching at the sight of how close Mr. Crawling was to them. Shoot, sometimes they forget how unnerving his appearance is, especially when he creeps up on them like this, though unintentionally.

—"ત ટ д ☨ д つ 々?"— (You Sad)

He repeated the question, his usual smile now replaced with a small frown. His voice quiet and soft as always, but with that subtle quiver at the end that appeared whenever he's concerned.

(Y/N)'s breath almost hitched from that little but oh so sweet display of care. Even after all the time spent side by side with Mr. Crawling, they still periodically wonder what the hell did they do to deserve such kind perso... Ghost, in their life.

Before the entity's worry could grow, (Y/N) flashed him with a smile, shaking their head a little.

—"I'm alright, just a little distracted."—

Their answer did seem to soothe the ghost's worry a little. However, he leaned closer, more of his hair falling into (Y/N)'s body, sending small shiver through their form as the black locks brushed their legs, sensation that resembling a small breeze of air running across their skin. An odd, chilly feeling... But one that became very comforting and grounding for the human over the time, as it was like a gentle reminder of Mr. Crawling's presence, that they weren't alone.

—"つ ત บ บ λ ป こ ৺ נ ८ ک ટ ? つ ત บ บ つ ኟ บ ટ ?"— (Not Bad Feel Not Scared)

Their smile faltered for a brief moment, knowing exactly what he was talking about...

Even if it's been quite a while since (Y/N) had one of those episodes of fear and hallucinations, the memories of them are still haunting the human in one way or another, leaving this uncomfortable sensation under their skin. It's like feeling hands, snaking all over their body, slowly slipping under their clothes, creeping through their skin and flesh, trying to dig deeper and deeper, right to their very core, trying to reach something so deep inside of them and rip it away from them...

Their essence?

Their soul?

T̵͉̗̒ḣ̴̻̱̂ȅ̷͓͘i̵̤͙̐͝ȑ̶͈̖̏ n̷̳̻̬̮̯̟̗̙̩̻̮͊͋̾́͐͌̏͒̿̏̆̑͜͠ä̴̢̧̡̦͕̻̙̻͕̳̟́̊͊̾̄̈́ḿ̵̡̢̛̜͉̗̗̞͖̟͈̬͈̻͍͌̋̓̐̅͘͠e̵͇̹͈̤͕̮̺͉͚͈͔̭͇̔-?

The human then simply hums, shaking off the heavy feeling off their mind. Their gaze soon focuses back on Mr. Crawling's face, their smile creeping back on their features, but now brighter, happier.

—"つ ત บ บ λ ป こ ৺ נ ८ ک ટ . つ ત บ บ ጉ ሰ ટ נ."— (Not Bad Feel Not Together)

They replied cheerfully, confidently using the otherworldly language to make sure there is no room for doubts left.

Upon hearing their answer and seeing that smile he absolutely adored, Mr. Crawling himself smiles back, letting that characteristic high-pitched giggle of of his. And just like (Y/N) expected, the crawling ghost reached out and gently patted their head, ruffling their grayish hair a little.

—"ㄷコ ਦ υ ป ! ㄷコ ਦ υ ป !"— (Glad Glad)

(Y/N) giggled as well, already used to Mr. Crawling's joyful chirps at whatever little thing they do. Once satisfied, the ghost slowly retires his hand from their head and leans back to his previous position right next to the human in a raincoat, his dark locks trailing behind and sliding off (Y/N)'s legs as he gives them a little bit of space.

They hum, that happy smile remaining on their lips, brightening a bit their bandage-covered face, returning some of color and life to it. The human soon shift their attention back to what they were previously up to, which was scavenging and going through all the junk and rumble that fell down here from the human world.

While (Y/N) is the one going through the numerous items, Mr. Crawling remained focused on them. Staying next to their crouched form and curiously watching the things they periodically picked up and inspected, sometimes even picking something himself and asking what it is and what humans do with it.

The activity was simple, but it was like a huge breath of air for (Y/N) and a great way to distract their mind from the decay this world was putting them through, helping them remember who they are and what are supposed to be. A human, an unfortunate human that found themselves in this place of absolute madness...

(Y/N)'s train of thoughts stopped when their eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of something bright and colorful under a small pile of old, messed news articles. And after carefully pushing aside all the trash, they get a clear sight of what it is.

A manga cover!

(Y/N)'s eyes widened and their smile grew as they reach out and grab the manga book, picking it up and instantly flipping through the pages.

—"No way, it's actually in good, readable condition!"—

They exclaimed excitedly, eyes wandering through the pages with interest.

Mr. Crawling simply observed, curiously watching them inspect the book. He noticed that (Y/N) would always get super excited whenever they saw one of these colorful pictures, and it made him happy to see them happy! As well as to keep a mental note to find more of these to make them even happier.

However, as the human paused on one of the pages, probably to check if the paper is holding up alright after getting a little wet. Something completely different caught the ghost's attention.

Slowly, Mr. Crawling reaches his hand again, pointing at a particular drawing with his finger while tilting his head to the side, like a confused puppy would.

—"נ บ ਦ ኟィд ⊔ ટ ��� ㅗ?"— (What They Do)

He asked, gently tapping the picture with his finger.

(Y/N) glances at the spot their ghost companion is pointing at, their eyebrows rising slightly as they see an illustration of two of the characters kissing. Oh, did they just spoiled themselves one of the subplots?...

—"This?"—

They asks, eyes flickering between the comic and Mr. Crawling's face.

—"π々⊔ λ ک つ ત コ ጉ ک こ?"— (Why Touch Mouth)

The ghost asked again, genuine curiosity lingering in his quiet voice as he taps the paper again, his head turning to the side to look at (Y/N). Despite half of his face being covered by his dark hair, they could practically feel his curious stare, almost like a kid waiting for his parent to answer.

—"ک  ጉ ㄷ π π々⊔ ?"— (Teach Why)

He asks, now his attention completely casted on (Y/N), patiently waiting for their answer.

The mentioned human stays silent at fist, seemingly surprised the ghost actually doesn't know what a kiss is and why people do it. However, the more they think about it, the less he can blame Mr. Crawling. After all, this world is not built for affection, and considering all the dangers that lurk here on daily basis, it's not too surprising that some residents of this place don't even know what affection is.

—"Well. This is called a kiss, 'kiss'."—

They explain, pointing at their lips as they spell the word for him.

—"K- K̴̻̍-K̶̥͔̒ḭ̷̢̆̾ṣ̵̠͊s̵̮̎̾-?"—

He attempts to repeat, though the sound comes more as a hiss rather than an actual word... Still, (Y/N) was proud of him for trying! And expresses such joy with a soft giggle.

—"Yeah, kiss. Uh..."—

They paused, thinking over their wording before continuing.

—"☨ บ п ป Kiss ત λ コㄷ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ."— (Human _ Desire Teach Love)

They finish, scratching their cheek with a sheepish smile, knowing that their explanation probably sounded wonky a weird, especially with that little mix between languages.

The ghost, makes a small "oh" sound, actually understanding their answer even with the odd wording.

Suddenly, Mr. Crawling's face lightens in puppy-like joy as he leans closer, his face just inches away from the human's when he starts to chirp back.

—"ત λ コㄷ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ! "— (Desire Teach Love)

(Y/N) raised their eyebrows at his words, their cheeks suddenly feeling a little warmer.

(Hold on, is he asking me for a kiss?!)

As flustered as they were, upon seeing that excited, happy smile of the ghost that they grew so attached to, they couldn't find the heart to tell him no even if their life depended on it. Beside, it's just a kiss, and they both like each other! So why not?

—"Eh... Hehehe. Okay, okay. You kiss like this."—

They answer, before suddenly leaning forward and pressing their lips against the cold skin of his cheek.

A soft, quiet gasp escaped the ghost's lips, the difference in temperature between his and (Y/N) body never failing to make his chest feel all funny, though not unpleasant type of funny. But now with the added softness of their lips and the hot breath casted on his face, it created a sensation he haven't felt before.

The human leans back a little, chuckling under their breath at the ghost's reaction. However, their smile begin to fade when they notice how still he suddenly got.

They go silent, patiently waiting for Mr. Crawling to say or do something, but he remained perfectly still and dead silent, like some kind of creepy statue. Did they just cross some boundary they didn't know about?...

—"Mr. Crawling?..."— you ask eventually, voice quiet. —"Are you alright? Did I-..."—

(Y/N) paused when he finally does move, slowly lifting his hand from the opened manga book and brushing his fingers against his cheek, right on the spot they kissed him a second ago.

Suddenly, another high-pitched giggle escaped the ghost as he immediately launches forward, forcing (Y/N) back and basically tackling them to the ground into that famous overzealous hug of his they came to secretly adore.

—"K̶̥͔̒ḭ̷̢̆̾ṣ̵̠͊s̵̮̎̾ ! K̶̥͔̒ḭ̷̢̆̾ṣ̵̠͊s̵̮̎̾ !"—

He cheerfully exclaims with his broken human speech, before mimicking (Y/N)'s action and pressing his lips against their cheek. Though, more than an kiss his gesture resembled a nuzzle, like big dog gently bumping his favorite person with his nose.

—"৺ ጉ נ ⊔ λ ત д ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ! "— (Me Want to Teach Love)

(Y/N) just couldn't help but laugh at the sweet action of the ghost, their cheeks turning much redder and warmer than before. With their hands no longer being occupied by the manga book, they reach and rest their hands on Mr. Crawling's back, basically hugging him back as the entity continues to joyfully express his liking through the newfound gesture.

—"You're doing it pretty good! But this is not exactly a kiss..."—

They eventually say, sliding their hands from his back and instead resting them on his shoulders. At the sound of their voice, Mr. Crawling's affectionate nuzzles pause and leans back, tilting his head to the side with curiosity.

—"Yeah, you need to press your lips, not caress with them. Ehm..."—

They fall silent, their gaze adverting for a brief moment as they try to find the needed words to describe what they're trying to say, but all they get is a reminder of how poor and limited the ghost vocabulary is...

Mr. Crawling remained quiet, patiently waiting for (Y/N) to figure out their wording. He didn't mind the wait at all to be honest, patience being one of his biggest virtues after all. Beside, seeing the human mumble and emit noises under their breath while making funny faces, such as pushing their lips or furrowing their brows, was a very cute sight to witness!

When realized that words, human or not, won't cut it. (Y/N) decided to use actions instead, as their head was starting to hurt at this point from this damn language barrier. So, with a soft sigh their eyes flicker back at Mr. Crawling, who was still patiently waiting for them to figure out their wording, or maybe taking the chance to look and admire their face, or maybe both...

—"৺ ጉ נ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ત ટ д Kiss."— (Me Teach You)

They finally said, a hint of determination in their tone, though it was mostly directed to (Y/N) as they try to push through their own sudden rush of shyness and fluster. How comes they can be all giggly and cuddly when Mr. Crawling literally tackles them, but then turn into a blushing mess from a little kiss?! Ugh, even they start to make less sense the more they stay in this world...

At their words, the ghost seemed almost ecstatic. He already was eager to get any sort of attention from (Y/N), let alone affection. So the mere thought of feeling their lips pressed against his skin again made his whole body almost shake.

(Y/N) could feel the ghost's body grow tense from the overwhelming joy, and it was such a strangely endearing sight to witness; an otherworldly entity acting like an overjoyed puppy about to receive his favorite treat.

They giggle again, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before speaking.

—"Okay hehe... Eeh... Look, you kiss like this, 々ኟп৺."— (Look)

They say before leaning closer, the distance between their and Mr. Crawling's face growing smaller and smaller, until their lips finally come in contact with the ghost's other cheek.

They can feel him shiver, clearly still not used to the new sensation, but he was definitely loving it judging by the way his long arms slightly closed around their body, almost hugging them and pressing their smaller form against his taller one.

(Y/N) leans back a tiny bit, taking the chance to simply look at the entity who was holding them in it's embrace so tenderly. Of course, this is not the first, nor last, time they'll be held by Mr. Crawling. But... Right now, there's something different, they feel different. Their heart is pounding like crazy, yes. But they no longer feel flustered or embarrassed, they feel strangely in peace in fact.

There's always been something captivating about the crawling ghost, even with his unnerving traces. The way his long, black hair surrounds them, a void that's isolating both from the outside world, covering them like a veil, making each the protagonist of the other's gaze. For a monster-filled place like this, the moment felt almost romantic.

The human let a soft exhale, their lips parting ever so slightly. And before their brain could even realize it, (Y/N) was already leaning forward again.

They don't know what came over them, but their mind, their heart, and even that little voice was telling them the same thing...

{Do it.)

They press their lips again, this time against the tip of his nose, getting one of these little "eh" sounds out of him.

They didn't stop there however, instead starting to pepper the ghost's face with more kisses. His cheeks, his forehead, his jaw...

(Y/N)'s movements were slow and delicate, keeping in mind the comfort of their otherworldly companion as they shower him with this new, intimate affection. They weren't quite sure what he was thinking about all of this, if he was getting overwhelmed or not, if he truly enjoyed or understood how much this moment meant for humans... But by how his arms seem to close more around their smaller form, how his fingers flex around the fabric of their raincoat, how his body seemed to gradually relax and even lean into the new, loving gesture...

Yeah, they knew he understood.

However, as (Y/N) was about to reach his lips, an inexplicable wave of hesitation came all over them, freezing them in place and incapacitating from moving back of forward, their heartbeat getting surprisingly, almost painfully loud.

(What's going on?)

(Why am I feeling so... Self-conscious?)

(No... No. I want to do it, I need to do it! Come on body, move! Move god damnit!)

They screamed inside of their mind, yet their body still refused to move, regardless of all the mental berating they were putting themselves through. Their grip on Mr. Crawling's shoulder tightened a little, like a silent attempt to ground themselves and remember just how close the ghost was, how he was waiting for them to continue, how he was waiting for them. But... They... They just couldn't move.

However, after a few beats of silence and inactivity had passed, is Mr. Crawling the one to finally break the tension and lean forward, his cold lips pressing against the warm ones of the human.

And just like that, all the doubts and hesitations had melted away in (Y/N), and everything felt alright again. No, more than alright. This felt perfect, intimate, sweet, and surprisingly innocent. Holding nothing but the affection, care and love the two beings felt for one another, now in it's purest way.

A human.

And a ghost.

Together, connected to each other not just in a physical way, but now in a deep, emotional way...

The kiss itself probably didn't last even 10 seconds, but in (Y/N)'s and Mr. Crawling's mind it felt like two eternities had passed, and many more would if they'd decided to keep going.

After breaking the kiss, the two just stay like this for a while, looking at each other as their minds clear from the haze and feeling of drunkenness the sweet exchange left behind. Mr. Crawling still on top of (Y/N), but instead of just hovering over them like he always did, now his arms were tightly wrapped around their frame, keeping them securely in place right between the ground and his body.

(Y/N) couldn't explain it, but right now they feel like they're falling again for the ghost. Just by being held in his embrace and hidden underneath his larger body, they felt so safe and at peace... So...

It's like they were home.

Their home...

He became their home, their safe place, their happy place...

Him...

—"λ ک ሰ ৺ ટ ?"— (Are you okay)

Mr. Crawling suddenly asked, his smile faltering as his embrace on them tightens a little. It was almost like he was concerned he did something wrong and broke them, what a sweetheart.

(Y/N) blinked, noticing they were probably staring and zoning out with this little realization of theirs, realization that their real home was not in this or their world.

It was with Mr. Crawling.

Or at least, that's what their heart told them.

—"I'm fine."—

The human said in a soft voice. Their body leaning forward while speaking, snuggling closer to the ghost's chest, the action feeling like a little dejavu to the time he hid them from the man in red.

Ugh... The sole mention of that guy is still sending shivers through their body, so let's not think about him.

—"৺コኅ ጉ ሰ ટ נ ৺ ጉ נ ሰ ኟ つ ጉ."— (Us Together Me Happy)

Mr. Crawling didn't take long to let yet another high-pitched giggle, his head coming to rest on top of (Y/N)'s, nuzzling gently against their hair and raincoat hood.

—"ㄷコ ਦ υ ป ! ㄷコ ਦ υ ป !"— (Glad Glad)

He chirped cheerfully, his arms tightening just a little to give the human a gentle squeeze.

—"ત ટ д ሰ ኟ つ ጉ ৺ ጉ נ ㄷコ ਦ υ ป !"— (You Happy Me Grateful)

—"৺ ጉ נ ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ત ટ д !"— (Me Like You)

—"৺ ጉ נ ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ጉ ሰ ટ נ ત ટ д !"— (Me Like Together You)

All (Y/N) could do at the moment is giggle and attempt to keep up with his excitement. Jeez, they forgot how talkative Mr. Crawling gets when excited. They reach out at some point, affectionately rubbing his back like a quiet request to slow down, which the ghost quickly complies by stopping his speech and instead resorting just to the nuzzling.

The two remained like this for quite a while, just enjoying this precious moment of having each other close. Even if they knew that the next time (Y/N) needs to take a nap, they'll be in embraced again.

—"Alright, that's enough for now.—

The human muttered, giving the ghost's back a few gentle pats like a way of saying that they wanted him to move.

Mr. Crawling doesn't try to protest at all, surprisingly. And after giving one more squeeze, his arms loosen around (Y/N)'s form and he slowly lets go, his body getting off them and instead settling right by their side. That's probably the reason he didn't complain about letting go, knowing he'd be next to them one way or another.

(Y/N) chuckled again at the ghost's sneaky antics, finding them pretty adorable. And after reaching out to pat his head again, the human settles into a more comfortable position and grabs the manga book they previously dropped from Mr. Crawling's surprise-tackle-hug.

—"Okay, let's see what this is about..."—

The human muttered to themselves while opening the book and starting to read the story, deciding to go blind into it and discover the plot as they progress with the story.

Mr. Crawling in the meantime had found his comfortable spot by placing his head against (Y/N)'s shoulder, with one of his arms resting across their waist, keeping them in this half hug.

Even if the ghost didn't understand a word, the illustrations of the manga were very helpful and allowed him to follow the story along with the human. Though there were things he also didn't quite understand about human behavior, it wasn't a big deal since (Y/N) would always chive in and explain him things.

As the two lay there, reading, Mr. Crawling suddenly lifted his head and pressed his lips against (Y/N)'s cheek gently, this time actually kissing them.

—"৺ ጉ נ ک  ጉ ㄷ π ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ત ટ д ! "— (Me Teach Love You)

He said in a sweet, happy tone that nearly made (Y/N)'s heart explode. Ugh, seriously who gave him the right to be so cute!?

—"ㄷコ ਦ υ ป."— (Grateful)

—"ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ৺ ጉ נ ?"— (Like Me)

(Aaand there he goes again. Yup, high-maintenance type...)

(But he's my high-maintenance type.)

—"ㄷ ८ コ ㅗ ત ટ д."— (Like You)

They replied warmly, planting another kiss on top of his head, gaining yet another lovely giggle from the entity before returning their attention to the manga. The ghost soon following their example, settling back into his previous position, occasionally nuzzling against their shoulder like an affectionate cat. They could swear he'd be purring if he could.

And while reading the manga, (Y/N) couldn't help but smile, but also dread a little at how the next days would go now that Mr. Crawling learned about kissing and what it meant...

...

They're going to get tackled A LOT.

"Won't they?"

[7ndipity]

Just found your blog and LOVE your bts headcanons so much… after having watched Are You Sure?!, I need all your NSFW headcanons for OT7 as your boyfriend… please please please 🔥

Random NSFW Headcanons

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Random spicy headcanons about the members

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected sex(don’t do this), breeding kinks, mentions of edging, oral(m. & f. receiving), bondage, sensory deprivation, dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, voyeurism, idk there’s a bunch of stuff lol

A/N: You want my hcs? I’ll give ‘em, hehehe😈 Hope you like them!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin:

Okay, I’m gonna make some of y’all real happy by saying, although I still think he’s mostly switch/sub leaning, he does have a dom streak in him. Like as much as he loves letting you lead him like a puppy on a leash(sometimes literally), nothing quite gets him off the same as taking control and pounding into you until you’re his empty headed baby, only able to whimper is his name.

He’s also a big fan of sensory deprivation, both giving and receiving. Blindfolds, handcuffs, etc. He loves the heightened sensitivity that they create, turning even the lightest touches insanely intense.

Has a major thing for cumming in you that it’s bordering on a breeding kink. Like tell him that you want him to cum in you, and he’ll propose on the spot💍

Yoongi:

He’s definitely into bondage and shibari(he’s been tied up/handcuffed wayy too many times in music videos to not be, lol) tho it would take a bit of coaxing to get him to admit it. There’s just something about trying out different knots and restraint styles, both on him and you, that intrigues and excites him.

Lowkey into angry sex, but not when he’s angry with you. It’s more those days when he comes home frustrated from the studio and he just wants to scream, so he makes it his mission to make you scream instead, hehe.

Has recorded himself getting off for you and thought about sneaking it into the background sounds of one of his Agust D tracks(might have actually done it, but he won’t admit it bc he’s a menace and likes to fuck with your head, so you’re just sat listening to every little detail on his demos, lol)

Hobi:

This boy is a certifiable freak, you cannot convince me otherwise. Like except for a relatively small list of hard no’s, he’s open to playing around and testing out pretty much any sort of kink/scenario that you might be interested in.

Lowkey very into the idea of watching you fuck one of his friends rapline whats up?, guiding them on just how to touch you, watching the way your face scrunches up in pleasure, just to turn around and fuck you into oblivion afterwards.

Man adores having his head between your thighs and actively begs you to ride his face. And don’t even think of arguing that you’re too heavy or whatever, bc he’ll spend the next hour worshiping your body and showering you with so much praise that you won’t be able to think, let alone remember any of your insecurities🫠

Namjoon:

Although we’ve established he’s definitely more of a daddy dom, he definitely has a weakness for you taking the lead or being on top(“pro rider, hohohoho rider” I had to, I'm sorry). Something about him being under you, watching the way your body moves on top of his, feeling the way you take him so perfectly, just makes his brain go hazy🤤

Idk if he’s fully aware that it’s a kink/thing, but he’s definitely into temperature play. Ice cubes, hot wax, even just blowing cool air over his skin makes him tingly in all the right ways. 

He loves to tease you at the worst moments. Like you could be on phone with a friend or whoever, and he’ll let his hands start to ghost along your arms, down your sides, across your chest, between your thighs… seeing just how long it takes before your voice and focus start to waver, quickly hanging up and giving him your full attention

Jimin:

*cough*ropebunny*cough* Sorry, what?

No but fr, he loves being tied up in different pretty styles of shibari, but he treats it like an art form, with different silk ropes and ribbons. He wants to feel pretty and treasured, caressed with soft voices and sweet words, regardless of if you’re teasing and edging him to tears.

Lowkey into semi-public sex, teasing you at dinner with his friends with his hand creeping along your thigh under the table till you’re squirming and begging him to find an excuse for you both to be excused for a minute. Dude will fully have you shaking and seeing stars and then walk out of the bathroom like nothing happened.

Definitely the biggest fan of aftercare out of all the members, like he treats it as more of a sensual spa night for the two of you; candlelit baths together, gentle massages to work out any tense muscles, cuddling in bed that might turn into cockwarming or a very sleepy round two... 

Taehyung:

Definitely into taking photos of the two of you, both on his phone and on his retro film cameras. Man turned his guest room into his own studio/darkroom and learned how to develop film by himself so that no one else but you would see his artwork.

Loses his goddamn mind every time you go down on him. Like if you ever wanna make his mind go completely blank, all you have to do is let him feel your warm, wet mouth close around his length, and he’s absolute putty in your hands.

Feel like he’s very into lingerie, both for you and himself. He loves feeling like a pretty present for you to open and play with, and vice versa. You literally came home on your birthday to him waiting for you in some pretty little silk number with a bow on his head as your gift.

Jungkook:

Although I’ve said before he’s a dom leaning switch, when he subs, he lets go completely. He loves letting his mind shut off and being at your mercy, letting you take control and turning him into a needy whining mess. 

For the similar reason, he has a major dumbifacation kink, both giving and receiving. He loves the idea of being fucked to the point that your mind goes completely blank and all you can think and focus on is how you make each other feel.

Definitely has a thing for somnophilia, again both giving and receiving. The thought of touching and teasing each other, your bodies reacting purely out of instinct, seeing how long it takes for you to wake up so that you can fuck each other properly, the whole thing makes him crazy. His favorite way to wake up, 5 stars, highly recommend🤭

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[leechandoki]

I just want to let you all know that I want to keep this blog fill with my portfolio as much as possible.

I will always reply with my main account @loser-brain (when using the reply function, this is a sideblog, so main blog will opt to reply no matter what)

When reblogging I will always reblog with my main. Rarely reply (with reblog) with this account unless I have either made art in response or write a small story in response.

Please understand I do not want to make another account just for portfolio purposes when this account was made for that reason.

loser-brain is my personal account and was my art account but after realizing no one wants to commission an artist name that I opt to a more appropriate name @leechandoki

leechandoki is my professional name while loser-brain is my personal. Lil'GreenBean is a character aka my Alien Vtuber.

Literally just a name. Sorry if that has cause confusion.

You do not have to attach loser-brain to my work however YOU MUST ATTACH LEECHANDOKI TO MY WORK.

Sorry... it just been bugging me a little seeing people attach all three names together. leechandoki is my art and professional name

loser-brain is my personal

Lil'GreenBean is just a character name.

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (they do wear a dress and lingerie tho), reader and shouto are married, reader was in 1-A, pro hero shouto, everyone is 27+, alcohol consumption (shouto’s drunk), mentions of smoking a blunt (reader’s high), sex in a classroom, idfk GENRE: smut bruh SUMMARY: when you suggest doing it in public briefly and in passing to your husband, you were not expecting him to take you up on that offer at your fucking high school reunion!? WORD COUNT: 1.9K 🦊’s A/N: okay. so. this was originally supposed to be for iida, but since FORDULA couldn’t do day 18 like they were meant to… i wrote it for shouto instead bc im not writing for tenya sorry yall // also i wrote most of this the day before it was due after waking up at 5am so uhm 👍 god help me

     the very last thing you were expecting from your husband would be the idea of him enjoying semi-public sex—it made sense how one would arrive to this conclusion, seeing as how he’s such a reserved person and all. you don’t even remember when it was that you brought it up—it must have just been a comment in passing; not that shouto missed it, of course. and then the suggestion got him thinking…. like seriously considering it. the more he thought about it, the more arousing it became to him, until it was a borderline fantasy: him fucking you somewhere you could easily be caught at with a large hand covering your mouth to make sure no one could overhear your desperate little noises. fuck.

     now he finds himself at his ten year high school reunion, all dressed up with a raging erection that he was trying to hide by sitting at one of the tables there, grateful for the fabric draped over them, as he drinks and drinks to calm his nerves. thank god you volunteered to drive back home tonight. you don’t know what possessed you, but you didn’t feel like getting slizzard tonight—a stark contrast to your husband, who was trying to drink his boner away. (without much luck, mind you.)

     when you come back over from the dancefloor to check in on your husband, however, he’s quick to excuse himself from the table he’d been seated at all night and drag you off to an empty classroom. 

     “shouto? ‘s something wrong?” you ask, looking up at him. 

     “no—i just—” how does he put this? “really wanna fuck you,” is what comes out of his drunken lips, his brain to mouth filter having shut off for the night. (was it really there to begin with though..?)

     “oh!” you squeak as your cheeks flush at his words and he backs you up against the door. “h–here?” you’re at a loss for words entirely while shouto places both large, calloused hands on your hips as he begins to press sloppy, drunken kisses along your neck. “sh–shouto!”

     “mmh?” he hums, not pausing in his actions—he doubles down, actually, by nipping at the tender flesh of your throat, the hands on your hips sliding down your thighs, down to the hem of the disgustingly skimpy dress you had decided to wear tonight—the reason for his raging erection all night—where they sneak up under it and back of to your hips so he could feel your bare flesh, quirk activating enough for you to feel an extreme difference in temperatures, but not ruin the fabric of your dress from the inside out.

     “we—we can’t do that here; someone’s gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long!” you weakly protest, words holding no real weight. because if you were being one hundred percent honest, you wanted this just as much as he did, even without any alcohol in your system! (you had smoked a blunt and hotboxed the shit out of your car after arriving at the prestigious school, though, as you refused to be sober for an event such as this.)

     “oh yeah? like who?” he counters, beginning to suck at your neck, not lingering on any one spot.

     “a–ashido, probably! i— i just got done dancing with her—”

     “i know, ‘ve been watchin’ you all night,” he slurs. “so you’re just taking a break—maybe you went to the bathroom, that’s not her business.” his hips press into yours, and you whine at the feeling of his hardened cock pressing against your crotch. 

     “god—you’re so full of shit,” you tell him, burying one hand in his two toned hair while the other settles on a sturdy shoulder, and todoroki can’t help but smile at your words.

     “so?” you can feel him grinning against your neck, like a drunken fool in love (which is exactly what he was, by the way). 

     you’re out of comebacks and excuses as to why he shouldn’t fuck you right here, right now, so instead of trying to argue against hip, you tug at his hair so he’ll look at you before leaning in to press a kiss to his plump lips. 

     he tasted like the sake he’d been sipping on all night as he watched you with that intense gaze of his—something he inherited from his father, like it or not—and he hums in a pleased manner as he grips your hips tighter.

     “how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” you ask once you reluctantly pull away from the kiss—a question shouto chooses to ignore.

     he’d had maybe three and a half red solo cups worth of sake in his system, which was enough for his inhibitions of being caught melt away. he almost hopes you two do get caught (by an old classmate at least) just so he can wordlessly flex that he was the one with the smoking hot spouse and not them. 

     so, with your minimal resistance and shouto’s horny persistence, it’s not long until he’s got his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and is tugging them down your thighs, asking you to step out of them so can keep them in his pocket (for the rest of the reunion). 

     “hhnng—,” you whine as two of shouto’s icy fingers move to play with your clit, and a chill runs down your spine at the feeling. “sho—” you’re cut off by a kiss as your husband slots his lips over yours, teeth clacking slightly as he kisses you sloppily and hungrily. it wasn’t unusual for shouto’s to be a bit of a sloppy kisser (as it turns out, he’s a really big fan of swapping spit), but generally he was more put together than he was right now—it’s like he was trying to eat you whole as his tongue easily slid into your already open mouth.

     you, ever the tease, quickly get with the program and arch your back, pressing your chest against his, and start sucking on his almost burning tongue—something that catches him only slightly off guard. he’s fast with his response though, left hand moving to squeeze your ass, heating up enough to leave a faint burning handprint.

     “fuck!” you squeal at the searing touch and accidentally bite shouto’s tongue in the process.

     he pulls away with a hiss but no real disdain before the same hand that had left a print on your butt comes up to cover your mouth. sure, the music in the gym was awfully loud, but there could still be some other people in the hallway—maybe people who actually had to use the bathroom. it doesn’t matter. what matters is that shouto gets to fuck you, and—an idea comes to mind that only his drunk, secretly perverted brain could think of.

     “shhh,” he shushes you, pulling his hand away from your mouth in order to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his nice dress pants. 

     biting your lip, you nod as he tugs the slacks and his boxers down to about half way down his thick thighs, letting his painfully hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. you can’t help but bite your bottom lip at the sight, and you go to sink to your knees to suck him off before he’s tugging you back up by the hair.

     “no,” he pants, taking his dick in one hand as he plants the other back on your hip. “need t’fuck you—please, angel, i— it hurts,” he whines, lining his throbbing length up with your already wet slit.

     “yeah? okay, fuck—go ahead, baby,” you give him permission to actually insert himself, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your tight heat finally engulfing him. jesus! he had waited all night for this, and it was so worth it.

      “hnngh—shit,” he whimpers, the hand that was previously holding his dick moving to play with your puffy clit as he pushes into you slowly at first before bottoming out all at once. fuck! 

     your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but moan shouto’s name while tugging at his hair as he kisses you sloppy style once more. 

     with how drunk and horny he was, it doesn’t take long for your husband to approach his climax, and with the way he was toying with your sensitive button, you’re quickly being worked up to one too, until—

     knockknockknock!

     “hello..? i thought i heard someone groan, are you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on who it was. (it was hagakure, by the way.)

     shouto freezes in all his actions and looks at you with half lidded eyes and a knowing smirk, cheeks flushed as he tries to quieten his breathing. your hips involuntarily roll down against the fingers still pressed against your clit, and you accidentally let out a quiet moan before covering your mouth with both hands, face burning with shame and arousal.

     “all fine in here, thanks,” shouto’s able to get out, though his voice is strained. “just— ….reminiscing!” he lies, as if he wasn’t balls deep in you right now.

     “ooh! fun! can i join?” the door handle jiggles, and shouto’s hand flys out to freeze the door shut. “—huh? hey, what’s with the door?”

     “it’s—uhm, it’s personal memories,” he follows up, dick twitching inside you. fuck, how was he meant to last like this?

     you almost giggle at his lame ass excuse and over the top reaction, until you remember that over the top reaction is the exact reason tooru hadn’t just seen you both in such a compromising position.

     “we’ll be—done soon!” you call out, and at the sound of your voice and insistence on her not coming in, the invisible woman gets the message before saying oh! okay! and finally walking off.

     “that was— that was close, wasn’t it?” shouto pants, starting to move his hips again as his fingers resume their circular motions against your clit. 

     “yeah, i could really feel how excited you were,” you chuckle, to which shouto huffs and picks up his pace. “nngh–!” you moan softly, as you both finally get a chance to cum.

     your husband's dick twitches sporadically deep inside you before hot, sticky cum spills out of it and into you as your pussy spasms and flutters around him, milking shouto for everything he was worth and then some. 

     slowly pulling out of you, he plants a kiss to your spit-soaked lips before pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt and melting away the ice he had created not too long ago as you tug the hem of your dress down, and—hey! that panty thief!

     “shouto…. aren’t you forgetting something?” you try to remind him, cringing at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of your wet cunt and trickle down your thigh. 

     “mmh,” his brows scrunch in thought, as if he’s actually thinking. “no? i don’t think so?” he moves to grab the door handle, but you bat his hand away and tug at his wrist.

     “my…. my panties?” you say, trying to squeeze your thighs together to prevent any more cum from dripping out, but to no avail.

     “oh! right—” he goes to take them out of his pocket before he pauses and a smirk tugs at his pouty lips. “you can have them back when we get home,” he tells you, opening the door and starting to walk out. “now come on, the others are going to get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

goddamn him!

return to KINKTOBER | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

[rebeccathenaturalist]

ETA: I wrote up a guide on clues that a foraging book was written by AI here!

[Original Tweet source here.]

[RANT AHEAD]

Okay, yeah. This is a very, very, very bad idea. I understand that there is a certain flavor of techbro who has ABSOLUTELY zero problem with this because "AI is the future, bro", and we're supposed to be reading their articles on how to use AI for side hustles and all that.

I get that ID apps have played into people's tendency to want quick and easy answers to everything (I'm not totally opposed to apps, but please read about how an app does not a Master Naturalist make.) But nature identification is serious stuff, ESPECIALLY when you are trying to identify whether something is safe to eat, handle, etc. You have to be absolutely, completely, 100000% sure of your ID, and then you ALSO have to absolutely verify that it is safely handled and consumed by humans.

As a foraging instructor, I cannot emphasize this enough. My classes, which are intended for a general audience, are very heavy on identification skills for this very reason. I have had (a small subsection of) students complain that I wasn't just spending 2-3 hours listing off bunches of edible plants and fungi, and honestly? They can complain all they want. I am doing MY due diligence to make very sure that the people who take my classes are prepared to go out and start identifying species and then figure out their edibility or lack thereof.

Because it isn't enough to be able to say "Oh, that's a dandelion, and I think this might be an oyster mushroom." It's also not enough to say "Well, such-and-such app says this is Queen Anne's lace and not poison hemlock." You HAVE to have incredibly keen observational skills. You HAVE to be patient enough to take thorough observations and run them through multiple forms of verification (field guides, websites, apps, other foragers/naturalists) to make sure you have a rock-solid identification. And then you ALSO have to be willing to read through multiple sources (NOT just Wikipedia) to determine whether that species is safely consumed by humans, and if so if it needs to be prepared in a particular way or if there are inedible/toxic parts that need to be removed.

AND--this phenomenon of AI-generated crapola emphasizes the fact that in addition to all of the above, you HAVE to have critical thinking skills when it comes to assessing your sources. Just because something is printed on a page doesn't mean it's true. You need to look at the quality of the information being presented. You need to look at the author's sources. You need to compare what this person is saying to other books and resources out there, and make sure there's a consensus.

You also need to look at the author themselves and make absolutely sure they are a real person. Find their website. Find their bio. Find their social media. Find any other manners in which they interact with the world, ESPECIALLY outside of the internet. Contact them. Ask questions. Don't be a jerk about it, because we're just people, but do at least make sure that a book you're interested in buying is by a real person. I guarantee you those of us who are serious about teaching this stuff and who are internet-savvy are going to make it very easy to find who we are (within reason), what we're doing, and why.

Because the OP in that Tweet is absolutely right--people are going to get seriously ill or dead if they try using AI-generated field guides. We have such a wealth of information, both on paper/pixels and in the brains of active, experienced foragers, that we can easily learn from the mistakes of people in the past who got poisoned, and avoid their fate. But it does mean that you MUST have the will and ability to be impeccably thorough in your research--and when in doubt, throw it out.

My inbox is always open. I'm easier caught via email than here, but I will answer. You can always ask me stuff about foraging, about nature identification, etc. And if there's a foraging instructor/author/etc. with a website, chances are they're also going to be more than willing to answer questions. I am happy to direct you to online groups on Facebook and elsewhere where you have a whole slew of people to compare notes with. I want people's foraging to be SAFE and FUN. And AI-generated books aren't the way to make that happen.

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Nine - Babymoon

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie takes you up to Canada to visit her family and for a relaxing trip out to cottage country. Her parents are thrilled to see you and to - technically - meet their first grandchild. The problem? They just won't leave you two alone.

Warnings: G!P sex. Masturbation (r), fingering, oral, g!p penetrative sex, preg and breeding kinks, dirty talk, language.

A/N: J and R are horny, y'all. The rest of the series can be found here.

“I used to play hockey at that arena. The locker rooms were terrible. Oh, and I used to run track over there. And you see that store down the way - it used to be this little hobby shop and my dad used to take me there sometimes to buy models or crafts.”

Jessie pointed enthusiastically out the windows of the rental car as she drove you both to her parents’ home from the airport. She’d brought you to her childhood home a handful of times by now, but she never tired of showing you the sights even if you’d seen them all before.

“You’re adorable,” you told her as you watched her affectionately. “And yes dear, I remember. Pregnancy brain hasn’t hit me that hard yet,” you chuckled.

“Oh and that house had the best candy at Halloween,” Jessie went on, undeterred. You laughed.

“Well look at the size of that house. They definitely had full-size-candy-bar money,” you joked.

“I can’t wait until I can take our daughter around town and show her some of these places. And soon enough she’ll have memories like these of her own.”

You smiled softly at her, kissing her hand before resting it on your belly.

“Has she settled a bit?” Jessie asked as she rubbed your bump.

“Yeah, the drive seems to be keeping the activity to a minimum compared to the flight,” you chuckled. “That was the most active she’s ever been. She either loves flying or hates it. Not sure which.”

“Everything seems okay though?” Jessie asked, concern creeping in.

“Yeah, I feel fine. I’m only at 24 weeks, the midwife said I’m well within the safe zone for flying.”

She smiled and relaxed as you gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright, we’re here,” Jessie announced as she pulled into the driveway. “I’ll get the bags. You just go in. They said the door’s open. Plus they were probably staring out the window the whole time waiting,” she laughed.

“Their first grandchild is technically visiting,” you said with a smirk. “Of course they’re excited.”

Jessie chuckled. “Yeah, imagine what they’ll be like after she’s born.”

She gave you a peck on the cheek before bounding out of the car and jogging over to your side. She opened your door with a very satisfied smile on her face, counter to the mild glare you gave her. She held out her hand, which you dutifully ignored as you climbed out, somewhat more encumbered than weeks before and it requiring a bit more effort.

“I don’t need help yet,” you said under your breath to her and Jessie just kissed your cheek again. You gave her a teasing look. “You’re just trying to look good in front of your parents.”

“What? I-”

Her words were cut off when her parents opened the door and greeted you both boisterously.

“Oh my gosh,” her mom cooed moments after giving you a hug and immediately had her hands on the swell of your midsection and began asking you rapid-fire questions.

“Mom,” Jessie chided. She was about to interject further when she noticed her dad hauling the bags out of the trunk. “Dad!” She rounded and ended up going shoulder to shoulder with him, jockeying for the leverage and space to grab the bags.

“Oh, you two,” her mom scolded mildly before placing an arm around your back. “Come on, Y/N, let’s get inside. We’ll let these two duke it out.”

After an initial visit with her parents and a quick walk around as they showed you both new things around the house, Jessie and you were free to get settled.

Despite your protests to help, Jessie lugged all of the bags up the stairs to her old bedroom where you’d both be staying.

"Sure you don't want to stay in the guest bedroom?" She asked one final time with a discerning look. It would be much more comfortable. It had a bigger bed and its own bathroom - a very valuable perk as you now got up almost every night to go to the bathroom - but you were insistent on staying in her old room. You said it was sweet being surrounded by remnants of her younger self.

"I'm positive," you said without hesitation as you walked in.

Even though she hadn’t lived at home in many years now, her parents left her room exactly the same. Her old medals and trophies were still there, old pictures and trinkets of hers were still neatly displayed around the room.

“Oh, I love it,” you said as you clasped your hands together under your chin and looked around. “So cute. I can’t get over it,” you said as you held up an old picture of her and some friends. “I really, really hope she has your freckles,” you went on before giving her cheeks a light pinch, and pulling a feigned glower out of her.

“Thanks for being okay stopping here for a few days,” Jessie said as she sat down on the bed. “My parents and grandparents have been begging me to bring you back forever, never mind now,” she said as she pulled you by the hand towards her and kissed your stomach.

“Of course, baby,” you told her as you stroked her face and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m happy to be here.”

“The family stuff’s going to be pretty full on, but you’ll get to relax when we head to the cottage, I promise.”

“I’m not worried,” you assured her as you continued to run your fingers through her hair. Jessie lifted your shirt and kissed your stomach furthermore.

“Okay, cool it,” you ordered as you gently pushed her head away. “You know how I’ve been lately. And yeah, not the time and place. Agreed?” You finished with a look of warning.

She sighed heavily as she leaned back on her hands, arms outstretched. “I know,” she said though her gaze lingered on your body. When you folded her arms across yourself, inadvertently emphasizing your growing bust, she belatedly forced herself to look up at you.

“Jess. I’m not kidding. I am not having sex in your childhood bedroom, okay?”

She made a slight face in mock contemplation. “Well, I did suggest we take the guest bedroom…”

You scoffed and turned away briefly before rounding on her again, arm outstretched and circling the air in gesture.

"You can't even sit like that. Okay? Cause seeing you leaned back like that just makes me want to drop to my knees and suck you off."

Jessie's eyes grew wide at the blunt declaration while your words threatened to cause her blood to pump strictly between her legs. You scoffed further and walked away, leaving Jessie to jump up after you.

“I’m sorry. I understand. I’ll be good, I promise.”

"Mhmm," you voiced flatly. She nearly sighed; she was in the doghouse again.

You ignored her a while longer as you both returned to catching up with her parents. At one point her parents suggested a board game and Jessie went downstairs to pick one out and was relieved when you piped up saying you'd join her.

She matched your pace on the stairs, though she hopped down from step to step. She jumped and turned mid-air landing in front of you at the base of the stairs with a smile on her face though you just rolled your eyes.

"Must be nice to be so spry," you deadpanned.

She held out her hand to you and stepped out of the way giving a small bow. When you side-eyed her and gave a noncommittal hum as you walked on, her face fell in a frown of disappointment.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"This way," she said, more subdued as she led you to an adjacent room. She turned on the light and pointed out the collection, but turned to face you right after. "Why are you upset with me?" She pouted.

"I'm not upset with you," you responded evenly. The way you examined the board games instead of looking at her did little to reassure Jessie.

"You seem upset. And I don't know what I did wrong," she went on.

You were leaned down slightly, hands on your knees as you determinedly studied the game collection, but straightened now and looked her way, your expression unreadable. Jessie frowned as you looked past her for a moment.

Before she could question you, you grasped her hand and pulled her towards you. You took her hand and guided it under the waistband of your pants and underwear until her fingers were against your hot, wet heat.

"Do I still seem upset to you?" You whispered in her ear as your other arm went around the back of her shoulders and pulled her close. Her knees gave slightly as she was overcome by the feel of your arousal and warm breath against her skin.

"Fuck," she said as her eyes closed as she began to automatically stroke her fingers through your swollen folds. "Oh my God, babe."

"I'm horny. And I want you. And I can't do anything about it," you said matter of fact. "That's all."

Jessie's eyes were still closed as she inadvertently began to grind her hips up into you while her fingers continued to explore. She gently circled your clit and wrapped her arm around your back securely as your own knees weakened.

"God, baby, I want you inside of me," you whined under your breath as you subtly rocked against her hand. Goosebumps rose across Jessie's skin as you softly panted in her ear; fingers on one hand running through her hair while your other hand groped her ass needily.

"Kiss me," you ordered as you pulled her head into you. She readily complied, her mouth clashing into yours in a messy, wanting kiss.

Jessie felt that all too familiar tightness forming in her pants as she began to harden. If you two were at home, she would've undressed you and fucked you the way you wanted. However, given current circumstances - there was no way.

She listened for noises beyond your whispers and moans. Hearing nothing, she sunk two fingers inside of your waiting tunnel. She pulsed at the sharp inhale you took and the way you melted into her embrace.

The angle was certainly tougher than months prior, she had to position herself around your burgeoning bump and she couldn't get as deep as she wanted with both of you standing like this, but it didn't seem to bother you.

While you wrapped an arm around her shoulder for balance, you let yourself fall into her waiting hand rhythmically, trusting her to hold you up and she did just so.

"God, baby, you're flooding my palm already," she breathed as she burrowed her head against you and curled her fingers inside of you furthermore. She was rock hard as, despite your efforts, the odd repressed, high-pitched whimper filled her ears.

"Shit!" She cursed as suddenly loud steps began to boom down the stairwell. You rapidly pulled away from one another, both wide-eyed with panic as you both tried to recover.

You quickly adjusted your clothes and fixed your hair. Your cheeks were flushed, but there was nothing to do about that. Jessie glanced at the very obvious bulge in her pants and at her fingers and palm that were coated in your juices.

"How's it going in there?" Her dad called from the other room. "I'm grabbing a couple of photo albums. Y/N, I can show you those pictures of Jessie at the science fair in elementary."

Jessie was still overwhelmed with panic and before she could determine what to do, you took a quick glance at the door before you stepped forward and grasped her hand. You held it up, locking eyes with her before placing her fingers in your mouth and very sensually bobbing your head up and down as you sucked them clean. Jessie's jaw fell at the feel and sight, her cock pulsing once more.

"Amazing! I'll come check them out with you," you called back once you released her fingers from your mouth.

"Babe," she hissed, though all she wanted was to feel your lips around her length.

You smirked and wiped her palm on the inside of your shirt before heading to the door. You were nearly there when Jessie's dad rounded the doorframe. She dropped into a crouch, back angled towards the door as she feigned looking at the games again.

"You two still haven't picked anything?" He asked as he arched an eyebrow. "Well, come on, Y/N, I'll start by showing you pictures first."

"Sounds good to me," you said as you and her dad departed. Jessie watched you subtly over her shoulder and glared when you waggled your fingers at her in a teasing wave with a wink.

It took her longer than she'd like to admit to recover. When she finally deemed it safe to head upstairs, her heart warmed at the sight of you on the couch with her parents poring over childhood pictures and listening attentively as they shared various, albeit, embarrassing stories.

Normally, she'd be bothered by the tales, but all she could focus on was the meeting of these two families of hers - the one she was born into and the one she was making with you.

You were together in the kitchen later and you sidled up to her, your arm brushing against hers as you whispered.

"Seems you recovered okay."

Jessie shot you a half-hearted glare. "Barely. I don't know how you're surviving." She leaned in, keeping an eye out for either of her parents, "From the way you were tightening around me, the way you were whimpering in my ear, seems you were pretty close." She held back a grin at how your shoulders fell and a faint, low groan escaped you.

You reciprocated, leaning back into her, your breath sending shivers down her spine.

"You better finish what you started, that's all I can say."

"Girls! Do you want some crackers to carry you over until dinner?"

Jessie groaned, jaw clenching in frustration as her mom's voice filtered in. Her annoyance dissipated slightly as you kissed her cheek.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with fleeting, hidden flirtations - all interrupted by her parents without fail. At the end of the night, you were all sitting in the living room watching a movie together, Jessie and you sitting together under a blanket on the couch with her parents on the other.

Jessie did her damn best to ignore the way your hand very subtly caressed her leg, inching so slowly towards the inside of her thigh. She shot you a few, increasingly less subtle looks of warning as you continued your incognito explorations.

At one point, Jessie felt herself start to grow firm and she cleared her throat, shuffling slightly away from you. She ignored the look you gave her.

She thought things were in the clear until you quietly excused yourself. Her parents offered to pause the movie, but you insisted they keep watching. Jessie's eyes followed you as you ducked upstairs.

She fidgeted for a while until she felt enough time had passed that she could reasonably excuse herself as well, also insisting that her parents keep watching.

Quietly padding down the upstairs hall, she frowned as she scanned the doors - seeing you weren't in the bathroom. Her bedroom door was closed though.

She gingerly opened it, peeking her head around the door and was met with a shadowy visual of you on the bed, legs spread, your hand between your legs. You met Jessie's shocked gaze, yours entirely unfazed, your motions not faltering, clearly knowing it would be her walking in.

Her jaw was slack yet again that day as she stepped inside quickly and closed the door quietly behind her. The second the door closed, you allowed soft moans to fall from your mouth.

"Jesus Christ, babe," Jessie whispered as she approached.

"I was hoping you'd follow me," you said. "I couldn't wait any longer."

No coherent thoughts ran through her mind as her eyes raked over your naked form in the pale moonlight. The curve of your breasts shone in the glow, your darkened nipples drawing her attention. And the ever growing roundness of your stomach caught the light just so, casting a shadow between your legs that was only illuminated every time your wrist moved as you played with your clit. She could hear how wet you were as opposed to seeing it, and the sound alone caused her to start to swell.

She hooked her arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed as she settled wordlessly between your legs, hooking yours over her shoulders. Wasting no time, she buried her face in your wet folds, tongue wide and soft as she began to lap up the juices that dripped from your entrance.

You immediately let out a high moan, but you both stopped right away, your hands coming to your mouth in surprise, but to also muffle anything further. Jessie waited a few moments to let you recenter, but your hand coming to the back of her head told her the break was over.

She began to hungrily eat you out, her tongue pushing inside of you, circling your entrance, tracing up and down between your folds, tongue firm, then soft, over and over before flicking across your clit while she sucked.

Muffled whines came from you as your legs tensed and relaxed intermittently around her head. Your fingers dug into her crown, tugging her hair sharply now and then before releasing and caressing her and starting all over.

Eventually, you shifted slightly, tugging at her hair differently than before.

"I need you," you said as you signaled for her to stand. She quickly rose to her feet, undoing her pants and dropping them to the floor along with her boxers. She glanced at the bed for a moment, grabbing you a pillow and tucking it under your hips.

"Sorry," she said for not thinking of it sooner.

You didn't say a word, instead grabbing her by her hard on and pulling her towards your entrance.

"Okay, baby," she said, holding back a chuckle at your eagerness. She lined herself up and pushed herself forward, slipping inside of you effortlessly with how worked up you were.

"Oh Jesus," Jessie mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped around her. "Fuck," she breathed as she drew her hips back and began to thrust into you with slow, firm strokes.

Your hands came up to your face, fingers digging into skin as a long, soft moan fought its way up your throat.

"God, I love you," you said, head thrown back. "I needed you so badly."

"I need you, too, baby," she said as she began to gradually pick up her pace.

"Fuck me harder, baby," you pleaded as you moved your hands to the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss, Jessie needing to angle herself around your swollen middle. "I need you."

"Mm," Jessie groaned as she rolled her hips as she thrust into you. "I can't. I want to - God, I want to. But we can't be loud."

"I just want you to fuck me," you told her desperately as you began to claw at the back of her neck. A muffled cry fell from her lips as the sensation, arching her back over you, a hand subconsciously resting on the side of your bump. She went to lift herself back up so there was zero risk of her weight on your stomach, but you pulled her back up. "I want you with me."

Jessie nodded, angling herself again despite how uncomfortable it was, but if that's what you wanted and needed, then she'd gladly do it.

Despite what her mind told her, Jessie began to pump faster into you. The bed jostled, but it didn't creak. The loudest thing was the sounds that came each time she withdrew to the tip before driving her full length back inside of you. A small grunt escaped her as she dug her fingers into your thigh.

"I love you," she panted above you. "God, you're amazing."

You kissed her hard, but pulled back with a breathy laugh.

"How many girls have you fucked in this bed?"

"Huh?" Jessie frowned, blinking as she processed your question though her hips didn't falter.

"I said," you grasped her chin gently and bit her lower lip, giving it a tug, "how many girls have you fucked in this bed?"

"N-none," she responded, a deeper frown etched on her forehead. You knew better. You knew her whole history. Including the fact that she didn't get laid until university.

"Well lucky me," you said, a lilt in your voice as you traced your tongue along her lip.

Jessie chuckled, finally leaning back, grasping your legs and holding them out - careful not to do so in a way that'd strain you. She looked down at you as she fucked you and a smug smirk crossed her face.

"You're the only one in a lot of ways, babe. Definitely all the ways that count." She told you. You bit your lip and she went on quietly. "The only girl my whole family's met. The only girl I've bought a house with. The only girl I've given a ring to. And certainly," she rolled her hips in emphasis as she let her hands caress your stomach, "the only girl I've given my baby to."

"Oh fuck," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you draped an arm across your eyes, "I'm gonna cum. Don't stop."

Jessie was nearly on the verge as well as she did as she was commanded. She saw the way you bit down on your lip and buried your head into the sheets. You were so close.

"Girls! Is everything okay? Is Y/N? alright?"

"Oh fuck," Jessie hissed and you bit back a groan as footsteps ascended the stairs. Her hips stuttered as she fought between throwing caution to the wind and just chasing your high and stopping altogether. She looked down at you and you'd begun playing with your clit, hips still rocking against her.

Her voice got caught in her throat as pleasurable sensations shot through her as you began to convulse around her, squeezing her tight as your pussy pulsed around her. Her mouth opened and she blinked rapidly as she fought to react.

"Yeah, we're fine!" She eventually managed, your fingers now circling around her base and urging her to cum. She shot you a bewildered look as that familiar tightening and rush began to mount between her legs. She winced as the footsteps continued to approach. "We'll be down in a minute!" She called through the door, praying her voice wasn't as strained as it seemed in her head.

You continued to rock against her and suddenly her tension hit a peak and her jaw fell as she began to spill herself inside of you.

"Okay. We paused the movie. Come down when you're ready," her mom called.

"Thank you! We'll be down soon," you called through the door, finally coming to Jessie's aid as she instinctively held her hips flush against you, cum still pulsing inside of you, eyes screwed shut, her shoulders high and tense in the midst of the conflict between her physical and mental self.

When she finally came down from her climax, she dropped to her knees on the floor and between your legs, chest heaving as she recovered.

"That was mean," Jessie said as she glowered at you.

"The cum you dumped inside of me tells me otherwise," you said lightly as you pushed yourself off of the bed and began to get dressed. Jessie kept her eyes narrowed at you as she watched you. With a heavy breath, she hoisted herself up off the ground and began getting changed as well. She didn't take her glare off of you the entire time.

You walked up to her, unbothered, and rest a soft hand on her cheek as you gave her a peck.

"Look at us, sneaking around like a couple of horny teenagers," you said with a teasing smile before giving a nonchalant shrug. "It's actually kind of fun."

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

"Oh my God," you breathed as you fell into the couch cushions of the cottage you two were renting. Though you still had three months to go, your stomach had already grown enough that sometimes when you sat, you automatically sat with your legs wide to accommodate your bump that rest low above your hips.

"Are you okay?" Jessie asked as she set down the backpack from your hike onto the wooden floor with a light thud. She crossed over to you, crouching in front of you and gently kneading your leg.

"I'm fine," you sighed, allowing your eyes to fall shut as your hand came up and idly rubbed your stomach. "I think I just pushed it too much. It's so stupid - that hike wasn't even hard. It was a walk not a hike, yet my hips and my back are so sore."

"Baby, I'm sorry," Jessie said, a frown of concern settling on her face. "I shouldn't have picked that hike. And I should've checked in more."

"Stop," you said, head lolling languidly side to side in dissent. "I thought it'd be totally fine and you checked in; I just kept pushing." You opened your eyes to look at her, offering a faint smile. "I'm not in pain, I'm just a bit sore and uncomfortable."

She hummed quietly and rubbed your hips gently. You winced softly and her frown deepened.

"I'd run you a bath, but...," Jessie trailed off, gaze flitting away. Though beautiful, the one flaw with this rental was the failing hot water. It was lukewarm at best and ran cold within a few shorts minutes. She was beyond annoyed by it.

"It's okay, really," you assured her as you waved her attention off.

"Here, let me help you up. Go lay on the bed, I'll start a fire and I'll give you a massage," she offered. You cocked your head in contemplation before giving a slow nod. Jessie beamed. "Okay."

Soon, she had a fire roaring in the fireplace and you were naked on the bed with Jessie gently and meticulously working your muscles, laying soft sweet kisses on you now and then as she went.

"I'm telling you right now, nothing's happening tonight," you told her, eyes closed as you lay on your side, Jessie rubbing the small of your back. "I'm just too uncomfortable."

She held up a hand in mild defense. "Heard. Got it. No funny business. That is more than fine. I just want to make you feel better."

"K, thank you," you said as you blindly reached down, pawing until you found her hand. You lifted it to your lips, giving her a small kiss before releasing it and sighing as you settled in again.

Jessie carried on dutifully, truly just hoping to make you feel better. That is, until you reached back and started to caress her leg. She didn't think anything of it initially until you hand continued to wander higher up and inward when possible, fingers kneading into her muscles.

A frown settled on her face as she fought off the urges that were building between her legs. You began to moan softly at her ministrations, shifting slightly under her touch, and it was doing more to her than she cared to admit. However, the burgeoning hard-on forming in her shorts - the one that she was working to conceal from you - would give her away. She cleared her throat and refocused her attention on the wall, trying to think about anything but how good you looked and sounded.

With the fire roaring across the room, the light it cast against you accentuated your bump. She quietly observed the faint line that was forming from your naval to your pubic bone and the way the light danced across your skin.

It was such a strange sensation, a tingling in her chest upon seeing the way your body changed as the new life you two created grew within, and the way her arousal grew at knowing it was her who made you like this; that it was her you let transform you in this way.

"I changed my mind," you eventually said in a whine, legs rubbing together.

Jessie looked away, wondering what to do.

"About?" She asked innocently, though she was hopeful about what you were meant.

"You know what," you whined further, peeking an eye open at you.

"...you sure?" she asked apprehensively. "Cause there's no pressure at all."

"Your tented shorts tell me otherwise, baby," you said teasingly. Jessie blushed madly, closing her legs and timidly shuffling away from your prying eyes.

"Ignore that," she mumbled.

"I don't want to. I want it in me," you said resolutely, reaching back for her.

"Babe...," Jessie went on. "You're sore already."

"You took such good care of me. I feel better," you assured her. She gave you an unconvinced look and you implored. "I'm serious, baby. I want you."

Jessie hesitated further, but when you placed her hand between your legs, her fingers immediately being met with your arousal, she caved.

"Okay, but, you just stay like that, I don't want to strain you at all," she said as she took off her clothes and settled in behind you. She kissed the back of your shoulder and wrapped her arm around your stomach, thumbing it affectionately as she spooned you.

She continued laying slow, sensual kisses along the back of your shoulder, smirking at how you began to writhe in her arms.

"Baby, please."

She gave you one more lingering kiss before she pulled her hand back to line herself up with your entrance.

"Since you asked so nicely," she said, as she slowly entered you. You gasped softly as you reached a hand back over your shoulder to run your fingers through her hair.

"Mm, you feel so incredible every time," Jessie praised as she slowly drew back and pushed in again. She reached around your swollen midsection and placed her hand between your legs to gently play with your clit.

"Oh God, Jess," you said as you writhed under her touch. You moaned. "Mm, you feel so good inside of me." You leaned your head back into her and she pulled you closer as she pushed deeper inside of you.

She kissed along your back softly, your body rocking within her embrace as she made love to you in the warm glow of the nearby fire.

Eventually, Jessie propped herself up on her forearm to look down at you. As nice as it was to hold you in her arms, she missed seeing your face as you made love.

She shifted further, pulling out momentarily as she knelt, knees wide and now leaning over you, one arm behind you and one arm in front.

"Mmm," you complained, a frown on your face as you looked at her. "I liked being held by you." She kissed your shoulder as she lined herself up again.

"Let me try this," she said as she pushed inside.

You moaned as she sunk deep into you. In this new position, she was free to angle her hips better and a few strokes in, she began to pick up her pace, something she couldn't easily do before.

A renewed moan fell from your lips, your mouth dropping open as Jessie held herself up over you and began to thrust steadily and deeply inside of you, her hips free to bounce easily and quickly in this position, while still not adding weight or stress to your body.

"Oh shit," you panted as she fucked you with fervour, sweat starting to bead around her hairline.

"God, you look fucking beautiful," Jessie said as she stared down at you adoringly. "You look even more amazing carrying my baby than I even imagined."

Your hand came up to the back of her neck and you moaned heavily.

"I can't believe I waited so long to let you get me pregnant," you said, hand still caressing the back of her neck. Jessie groaned, eyes closing briefly.

"You know what that talk does to me," she said as her pace quickened slightly.

"It's crazy to think about," you went on. "Back when we first met - to think I was sitting across from the woman who - in a few years - I'd be underneath, legs spread, begging her to pump her baby into me."

"Christ," Jessie cursed as she gave a slight shake of her head, trying to hold back her orgasm which was now rapidly approaching as your words egged her on.

Your other hand came to your stomach and caressed it.

"We don't even have our first yet and I already want you to give me another."

"Babe," Jessie said desperately, her hands clenching into fists on the mattress. "I'm gonna cum if you keep that up."

"Do it. Cum inside of me, I want you to," you said as your fingernails dug into the back of her neck.

She didn't want to oblige, she hated cumming before you did. She balanced on one hand, returning the other to your clit, encouraged by how your eyes closed in pleasure and your sounds rose in pitch.

She felt a bead of sweat run down the side of her face and she panted in effort, but she knew you were close. When you finally clutched the sheets and a cry fell from your lips, she couldn't help herself and she came with a stunted moan, legs spreading wider as she angled and pushed herself as deep inside of you as she could.

"Fuck," she panted, head falling back as she looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly as wave after wave of pleasure shot through her as she emptied herself into you. As the last few drops drained out of her, she gave a couple of slow, prolonged thrusts before collapsing next to you, her arm draped over your midsection.

When she came to, she laid slow, gentle kisses along your waist and up your body, finishing at your flushed cheeks. Her heart swelled as she looked at you.

“I love you.”

[sinner-as-saint]

no masters or kings

Priest!Bucky x Reader 

Run-through: Father Barnes’ life had been rather peaceful for years. He never complained though, he chose this. Between mass on Sundays, bible study sessions during the week, and office hours, the amount of time he has left he dedicated to reading and keeping his body active. There wasn’t much to do in this small, almost forgotten town. Then a new face appeared. A woman, married to some businessman who leaves her all by herself while he grows his fortune in the city. Father Barnes seemed determined at first, to herd and care for the new, young, lonely little lamb. But that is until he found himself tempted to sin like never before. 

Themes: priest!bucky, smut, degrading kink, infidelity, explicit language, (sacrilege, blasphemy, and all the other bad stuff)

a/n: i’m going hell anyway so yeah, PILFS <3 

“It’s very late.” 

His hushed voice echoed in the empty, dark church. Your back stiffened as you froze, standing by the pews. You turned around slowly and found him standing at the entrance, the rain falling noisily behind him. As if creating a curtain to separate you two from the world outside. 

You knew where the switches were but you didn’t turn on the light when you walked in. There was just enough light coming from the outside to allow you to move properly and see. So you couldn’t exactly see the expression on his face. 

But you saw that he was drenched, completely. He must’ve gone on a run, you figured, and instead of going back home for the night, he saw the little light at the church doorstep and decided to come check who was here. 

“I… I couldn’t sleep.” You whispered back, watching him as he stepped inside and shook his head – reminding you a little of a dog shaking – as he tried to get the rain water out of his hair. “You once said you always left the church unlocked so I thought…,” You sighed, “I should probably go.” 

“No.” He was quick to say, in that tone. Your body tensed up. “Stay.” He added quietly. 

You looked at him. Drenched jacket, wet track pants sticking to his body, he was breathing heavily so he must’ve ran all the way here. He did that often, he once said. He liked running at night. 

You watched as he stepped closer to where you stood. That little bit of grey in his beard drove you insane. Suddenly you couldn’t think. 

He had that look about him which you could only describe as ‘priestly’. Wise, slightly older, calm. He was the kind of man you’d want to open up to. You’d want him to see all that was dark and wrong inside your human heart only so he could use that firm, strong voice and tell you that it’s all gonna be okay. That you were forgiven. Loved. And never alone. 

You watched as he unzipped his jacket, revealing that ridiculously tight black shirt inside which clung to his ridiculously muscular torso. 

“Did you need me?” He asked, again in that voice. That comforting voice that made everything okay. 

You knew what he meant. How he meant it. You knew he meant it in an innocuous way. But fuck if your mind didn’t go straight to that sinful pit it stays in. Temptation, like a vicious vine, reached and wrapped around your brain as you struggled to speak. 

It was always like this. Ever since the first time you stepped foot in this space and found Father Barnes sitting in silence all by himself. At first you mistook him for being just a parishioner. Black slacks, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up till his elbows, only when he turned around to face you did you notice the white collar. But by then it was too late and in your head you’d already imagined his naked body taking yours, owning you, using you. 

That day, you could tell he could almost read your mind. You were embarrassed so you excused yourself and left quickly. And anytime you wanted to be back here, and be good and behave, one look at Father Barnes and you felt like you were burning with all that pent up desire. 

It wasn’t entirely your fault. When you married your husband, you knew what you were getting into. You knew you married a man who was already married to his job in the city. But your parents couldn’t let such a wealthy, beneficial, and strong alliance go. You were given a luxurious life. There was nothing you lacked. 

You had a lavish home here in this small town, a wedding gift from your busy husband who visited maybe twice a year. You had it all. Money, vintage cars, horses you loved, a home you liked taking care of, privacy, all of it. 

All except company. Intimacy. Feeling a warm body press up against yours at night. Feeling warm skin against yours in the early hours of a lazy morning. You never got to hold hands with anyone, or get a hug. Or share a meal with. Or go on walks with. You were all alone here. And maybe that loneliness pushed you to visit the church the first time. 

Ever since, Father Barnes had become a habit. Watching him, picturing him doing unholy things to you, noticing him whenever you were at a coffee shop, or the library. You yearned for him. And it was all only heightened by the fact that he was so unreachable. So kind. So unlike how you wanted him to be. To him, you were just another lost soul he wanted to guide. 

Did you need me? 

Yes. Yes you did. In the most dirtiest of ways one can imagine. He was a handsome man. Kind blue eyes, long black hair that nearly reached his shoulders, a face only God could’ve created, and that body that he liked to take care of. He was a dream. 

And a priest. 

“I…” You struggled to find your words. “I thought a walk would help tire me out and put me to sleep. But then it started raining so here I am.” You gave him a faint smile. 

He returned one back. 

He ran his fingers through his wet, long hair and said, “I can keep you company for a while, if you want.” 

He waited. Then you said, “I’d like that.” 

–

Bucky was praying in his head as he asked you to take a seat, then sat down beside you. 

He prayed to God, in fact to anyone and anything that would listen to him. God, gods, universe, the freaking stars in the night sky which weren’t visible right now because it was pouring like it was the end of the world. He prayed you wouldn’t glimpse down and see the thing growing in his pants. 

He was ashamed. 

Ever since he first saw you, there was this pull he’d never felt before. It was like having burning hot claws sink into his flesh each time he laid eyes on you. Out on the streets, in the coffee shops, in the library, in the little diners, at the freaking grocery store, in parking lots – it was a small town so he saw you a lot. 

He had to walk by your extravagant property each time he went to the bakery, and each time he felt like a little boy who was excited to see whether or not the pretty girl would be outside this time to smile and give him a little wave. 

Then each time he saw you in this church it was somehow way worse. Like being here made the temptation more sinful. 

Bucky looked up at the cross and mentally begged. Make it stop. This is wrong. Make it stop. 

“You know you don’t have to do this.” Your gentle voice spoke. “I’m sure you need your sleep.” 

“It would be wrong of me to leave you here all by yourself.” He said, realising that this was the longest conversation you two had had. Usually you were too shy to even look him in the eyes. You kept your sentences short and always looked caught. 

So he liked this. 

Silence. 

Then you said, “I was never religious, you know?” There was a faint smile in that tone, he didn’t have to look to know. 

“Are you now?” 

He could feel your shrug. “I don’t know.” You answered. “I don’t think I have what it takes to be… so desperately good. Like you, for instance.” 

Oh if only you knew… 

Bucky shifted in his seat. Mentally begged God some more as the quiet tone of your voice made it hard for him to even sit still. He wanted to let out some of the primal aggression he was feeling. Squeeze something. Bite something. Sink into something. Preferably your tight hot body. 

Heavens. He sighed. Help me. 

Clearing his throat he said, “You don’t have to be if you don’t want to. It’s enough for me that you feel comfortable enough just to come here and feel like you’re not alone.” 

A moment of silence passed, with just the sound of heavy rain in the background. “But it’s not enough for me.” Then you quickly added, as if embarrassed that you must have overshared, “I shouldn’t be saying these things.” 

“Why not?” He frowned. What things? 

You let out a soft chuckle that only sent more blood down to his rock hard cock. Bucky clenched his fists, struggling. 

“It’s the middle of the night. I should go.” You said. 

No. He didn’t want you to go. “If there are things you need to voice out,” He said, “Would the booth make you feel more comfortable?” 

You chuckled again, turning your head to look at him. Bucky let his eyes roam all over you very, very quickly. Dark trousers, dark jacket, a scarf around your neck… too many layers. He almost groaned as he imagined himself peeling all those layers off of you. 

“Oh Father Barnes,” You sighed. “Maybe another time.” 

Then you left. Leaving him confused, aroused, and feeling way too much. 

— 

The next time Bucky saw you was yet again, on a random rainy night. After his daily run, he noticed the small lamp outside the church door was lit and ran all the way to the church to check out who it was. 

He ignored the boyish hope in his heart which begged that it’d be you. Yet he breathed out in relief when he saw it truly was you. 

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, hoping his tone wasn’t too teasing. 

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “Would you… um, last time you mentioned the booth. Do you think, I mean, I know it’s late and–,” 

He cut you off by walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. Follow me.” 

You did. 

–

Sitting down on the wooden bench felt weird. You’d never done it before. Never been inside the wooden box. The space was small, dark wooden panels on all sides. A small opening allowed you to partially see Father Barnes on the other side, that is if it was during the daytime. Right now, it was all too dark. You only knew he was there by the sound of movement. 

The air smelled like candle wax and incense. It felt mysterious, intimate almost to be here with him. It felt weirdly comforting. Maybe this is why people come back, you thought. 

“You’ve never done this, have you?” He asked. 

“No.” You replied, feeling a little out of place. 

“Well, we begin with the sign of the cross…” He trailed off, as if hoping you’d do it along with him. You did. Then silence. “Now, you may tell me about the things you left without saying last time.” 

You took a deep breath. Then said, “I think I’ve been alone for way too long.” 

There was a pause before he spoke. “Alone? You mean in this town?” 

You exhaled calmly and explained, “I mean in my marriage.” 

–

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. Alone in your marriage? God help him. This was not helping his sick, twisted fantasies. All those times he fantasised as he walked by your expensive home about how he could just walk in and find where you are and demand you let him take you. Your husband wouldn’t be home. He never was, everyone knew that. Most people pitied you, the rest envied your lifestyle. But he… oh it was his most sinful fantasy till date. 

He forced himself to ask, even though he was in no shape to hear the answer, “What is it that makes you feel this way? Is there a lack of some kind?” 

He heard your shaky breath, as if you were debating whether you should tell him. “I…” You started, then stopped. Then sighed and finally said, “I’ve never been with my husband.” You explained further. “We both agreed that our marriage was only a way to solidify the business transactions between our families. We both agreed we wouldn’t be a conventional couple. He craved his busy work like in the city and I liked the tranquillity of a small town.” You paused. 

Bucky listened intently. 

“So I knew what I was getting into when I got married and moved here, while my husband remained in the city. We only see each other maybe for two weekends out of the year and that too only during the holidays when we need to put on a show for our families and smile and look happy in family photos. And I was fine with it.” Another defeated sigh. “But then it got lonely.” 

Bucky sucked in a breath as he shook his head slightly, begging God again. Don’t let my mind go there. Don’t let the fantasies seem attainable. Please. He begged. But he also needed to say something back. Something priestly. And quick. 

“I see.” He cleared his throat, refusing to even acknowledge the growing desire in his pants. Yet again. “So it’s the distance. How long has this been the case?” 

You replied, “Since the very start. I’ve never been with him, you see?” 

No. No. No. 

“Never lived with him? Never felt a sense of companionship? I admit, that must be very hard. To feel alone in a marriage–,” 

“Father Barnes,” It sounded like you were begging in shame as you interrupted him. “I have never had sex with him. Or anyone. Ever since I got married two years ago. Do you understand now?” 

“Oh.” 

You let out a soft chuckle. “Oh? I guess it must come naturally to you. To dodge those, um, desires but, I’m only human. I’m a woman, with needs. I… it worries me sometimes because often it is all I can think about all day.” Another humourless laugh. “I don’t have much to do, you see? I do enjoy the simplicity of the small town. I love my animals, my staff, I get to do things I’ve always wanted to do. I can drive around and read, and paint, and cook, and I truly do enjoy my company but sometimes… It can be very lonely. One time I–,” 

You cut yourself off. And silence followed. Tormenting Bucky even more as you left him wondering. And oh did he wonder. About your lonely nights. About you in your luxurious home, in your large bed, fingers sliding in and out from in between your thighs, crying out loud as you make yourself come. Poor you. Rich, lonely wife of a careless, rich man. Forced to take care of your needs all by yourself. 

If only there was an equally lonely man able to keep you company. If only… 

“What?” He asked, because he needed to know. “One time you what?” 

“I… you know there are people who provide services. For women like me.” Your breathy voice was driving him to the fucking edge. 

“Women like you?” 

“Yes.” Your voice was more firm now, almost like you were smiling in a mischievous way. “You know? Rich, lonely women. I almost, I mean for the longest time I contemplated hiring a male escort. But then I didn’t.” 

“I see.” He said again. “Feeling alone and neglected can result in wanting companionship in whatever form is available.” 

He was barely holding on to fucking sanity now. 

“But it was wrong, wasn’t it? To want to be with another man, any man at this point to be honest.” You sighed. “It’s like an itch that never goes away. And it makes me…” You paused, then said, “It makes me want things, crave things, crave people that I shouldn’t. It’s getting worse and worse,” You confessed. “Sometimes I leave the doors and windows unlocked or opened, even at night,” You sighed, struggling too by the sound of it, “Shamelessly hoping someone might just walk in and–,”

“Stop.” He said, using a voice he never did before. He had never interrupted a penitent so rudely. So suddenly. But he heard his own twisted fantasy come out of your mouth in that breathy tone he would lose it. “Please,” He begged in a lowered voice. 

Then he heard your gasp. Like you were ashamed. Alone in that wooden box, drowning in your desires and temptation. Right there, in this dark night, right fucking there for him to take. To taste. To touch. He was no one but a starved male at that point. He was nothing but the desires in his head. The fantasy. The claws of sin dug into him, reaching places he thought he’d shut off forever but there they were, open and raw and wanting. Wanting you. 

He didn’t know when he got out of his side of the booth and opened the other side to find you with a surprised look on your face. Surprised, but with lust in your eyes. 

“Father Barnes?” 

Bucky was crossing that line he shouldn’t. He knew he was. There was no going back. Not as he knelt down right in front of you. The space was cramped but he didn’t care. He knelt in between your legs and looked up at you. 

“You said you craved people you shouldn’t. Is one of them me?” He asked. 

–

The tension was too much. The air around you shifted. You looked down at him, not regretting the dress you wore because now you could feel him in between your bare legs. Even in the dark his body tormented you. He was still cold and drenched from the rain earlier. But so firm with your thighs pressing around him. 

“Yes.” You answered, truthfully. 

His warm hands were on your bare thighs immediately. Rubbing up and down like he had all the time in the world. “Is that so?” He questioned. His tone was lower, darker. Grave. Fuck. “Is that why you wore a pretty dress to come see me? In the middle of the night?” 

He leaned in, lips brushing against your collarbones and neck as he breathed. His warm breath making you squirm and shiver. You bit back a moan as he slowly slid his hands under your dress. 

He looked down at his hands disappearing beneath your dress for a quick moment before he looked back up into your eyes in disbelief. 

“Did you wear this for me?” He asked upon further inspecting your body, as his fingers brushed against the softest, thinnest of lace underwear. “Surely you didn’t wear this for your husband who never comes home to you, hmm? Answer me.” 

“No.” You answered firmly. “I didn’t wear it for him.” Of course you didn’t. Your husband treated you like you were non-existent. Not that you minded. 

Bucky chuckled, his mouth still exploring your skin. His stubble rough against your soft skin. “And what did you think was gonna happen here? Showing up dressed like a shameless woman. Did you hope you could tempt me into touching you?” He whispered. 

His fingers slowly slid past your underwear, exploring the warmth there. You let out a soft moan, your own fingers sliding into his hair as he groaned upon feeling how wet you were. 

One moment he had a little bit of sanity left where he kept telling himself that he could stop at any moment if he wanted to. But then he slid his finger inside you, and the soft moan you let out was his undoing. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, he leaned in to kiss you. Hard and fast, before his mouth found its way down your neck again, until he wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and sucked. Hard. 

You couldn’t help but gasp and moan as his warm mouth wrapped around your flesh, wetting the fabric of your dress. Then he shifted to the other one, making you whine and squirm against him. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently as he toyed with your breasts. 

And then he was eagerly bunching up your dress so he could taste what he wanted the most, that wetness in between your legs. “Good women don’t do this, you know?” He whispered, “What if someone comes in here right now and decides they need some peaceful alone time? What then?” 

You whined as he lowered your underwear, throwing it aside carelessly. You knew nobody would come in here right now. It was the middle of the night again. This whole small town was asleep. Not even one car drove on the road. But you still played into the fantasy because it was so hot. You were burning, feeling the touch of a man after so long. 

“They’d catch us.” You said, “They’d catch you.” You groaned, doing absolutely nothing to stop him. 

Bucky chuckled, “Or maybe they’d see you spreading your legs like a desperate whore for me and decide they want to watch the show. Maybe they’d even grab a chair and sit, and watch as I make you feel good.” You whined upon hearing his words. He couldn’t help the smirk. “You like that? Hmm? The possibility of someone finding you in here, legs spreading and your arousal dripping out of you? Does that make you feel powerful? Wanted?” 

“Please…” You begged, quietly. 

Then he gave you what you wanted. And you let him. You let him taste you until he had his fill. You let him take one of your legs and put it over his shoulder which opened you up even more to his warm, eager mouth. To his tongue which slid in and out and up and down until you were almost crying in pleasure. 

“Look at you,” He said, kissing down your inner thigh. “Spreading your legs for a man of God like a shameless little slut, hmm? Is that what you are?” 

He ate you out until you were trembling, until your arousal was dripping down his chin. “Fuck, please!” You cried out, fingers tugging on his hair. His tongue, his lips, the gentle suction of his warm mouth –  it was all too much. 

“Is this what you wanted? All those times you left your doors and windows unlocked, did you ever wish I would wander in and just take you however I wanted?” He moved his head side to side, his coarse stubble brushing against your soft inner thighs. “Hmm? Did you ever think about me while touching yourself, you filthy little whore?” 

“Yes…” You whined and trembled, trying to keep your voice down as he made you lose your mind by eating you out like a starved man. 

Which he was. It was like he was tasting the most forbidden of fruits after years of being denied. Like he was suddenly unchained and free. Hungry. 

You whined as he pulled away without letting you come. You wondered if he regretted this, if he would kick you out but he only pulled you off the bench, flipped the two of you around in the dark so that he was the one sitting on the bench now and pulled you onto his lap. 

You were surprised for only a moment, but then got over it as you found your impatient hands at the waistband of his track pants. You paused, for only a moment, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear, you looked up into his eyes, they shone even in the near complete dark. Like he was… godly. 

“Are you sure you want–,” 

He cut you off, firmly. Using that tone again. “I will die right here if I don’t take you right now, you hear me?” 

You nodded, reaching for his cock as you said in a shaky voice, “I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

“Did you?” His voice was suddenly deeper than earlier. 

You nodded, wondering if he even saw it in the dark. But you didn’t care, not as you wrapped your hand around his hard cock, hearing him hiss in pleasure as you lifted off of his lap, aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance before gently sinking down on him. 

“Oh fuck,” You cried out as you slid down his thick cock, his stare burning on your face as he thrust up into you, all the way in. 

“Fuck,” He swore, then leaned in to give you a wet, messy kiss as he thrust his hips up. He hadn’t done this in a long, long time but nature took over. He wanted more, more, more. “This is all you wanted, huh? Always giving me those eyes, always giving me that look,” He sounded stern. Almost mad. “You were basically always around me like a bitch in heat, hmm? Is this cock all you were craving? While living in your nice big house, your husband away earning money for you to spend, all this time you’ve been thinking about me, hmm?” 

“Yes…” You whined as he grabbed your hips and guided you up and down his cock, stretching you out in the process. You held onto his shoulders as you rode his cock, bouncing on it while you moaned for him, bending a little so as to not hit the roof of the booth. 

“Yes what?” He asked, sounding all cocky and less priestly as he smacked your thigh. 

“Father Barnes,” You corrected yourself, “You’re all I wanted. You’re all I think about.” You felt him fill you up nicely each time, the pressure in between your legs getting hotter and hotter. He was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Bigger, even. 

“You don’t even care how wrong this is, do you?” He threw his head back, grunting at how good you felt. “You don’t even care what you’re doing to a pious man like myself.” He let out a strained moan, as he thrust into you over and over again, while also bringing you down on his cock each time with enough force to make your tits bounce. “I thought about you too, you know? About this tight little cunt, dripping and hungry for me. Some nights I would’ve done anything for just a taste of you.” 

His words were too much. The whole situation was too much. Too good. The space felt hot, stuffy, and sinful. “Please, I need to come. Please.” You said, unable to hold back your moans when he placed his thumb over your clit and rubbed it gently, in sync with his thrusts. It only made you clench harder around him. 

You bit your lip to hold back your moans as he thrust his hips up more into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came so close to coming undone for him. 

“You’re gonna come for me, little lamb?” He asked, “You’re gonna come all over my cock like a shameless woman, huh? Not caring about where we are, what time it is, or what your husband might think if he ever finds out, you don’t care, do you?” He chuckled. “You’re too cock-drunk to care, too much of a little slut for me to care, huh?” 

You answered after a loud whimper, “Yes… please.” 

He cupped your cheek and traced your mouth with his thumb, “Go on. Come all over my cock. Come for me…” 

Your walls clenched violently around his cock. You came hard, whimpering and crying for him and gasping for breath. 

Bucky came right after you, feeling his whole body tingle like this was the closest to heaven he’ll ever get. His warm load spilling inside you as he wrapped his arms around you and held you like you were the most fragile thing in the world. Like he hadn’t just rammed his cock in and out of you like an animal. Like he hadn’t just sinned in so many ways. 

You caught your breath, wrapped in his strong arms. Your head rested on his shoulder as you tried to calm your racing heart. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, his cum flowing out of you. 

“You’re not gonna hire any stranger to come and keep you company, you hear me?” 

You nodded, face brushing against his damp shirt and his warm neck. It felt good here, in his embrace. It felt safe. 

“I’m here, and you’re mine to take care of now. When you need to be fucked, you come find me. Is that understood?” 

You smirked, then said, “Yes, Father Barnes.” 

---

part 2

[grison-in-space]

I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.