#i think about this so often it’s embarrassing

[mariasont]

HEAR ME OUT!

post prison Spencer and shy!reader bonding over being total nerds. Books, shows... you name it

Bookstore Physics - S.R

summary: spencer suggests you should compare moral biases more often. you think he's making a philosophical point. he thinks he just asked you on a date

pairings: post!prison spencer reid x shy!medialiaison!reader

warnings: fluff, second hand embarrassment im sure, philosophical debates that are probably wrong bc i had to google and i know hardly knowing about mr kant, existential crisis but make it romantic, post prison reid, shy reader, prolonged eye contact

wc: 1.6k

a/n: thanks for requesting my lovely! happy superbowl to those who celebrate! go birds!

You were so close. Just one more inch, and your fingertips would finally graze the spine of the book that had been taunting you from its impossibly high perch. 

Rising to your tiptoes, you reached with all the reckless confidence of someone who had severely underestimated basic physics. The shelf wobbled under your grip, your shoes squeaking against the polished floor, and in that split second, you were faced with a terrifying possibility that you were about to take out the entire bookshelf, along with your dignity.

Something grabbed ahold of you, steadying you before you could faceplant directly into a pile of literary fiction. 

You went completely rigid. Because that wasn't just something. That was a Spencer Reid hand, long fingers, warm palm, and a freakishly strong grip for a man who treated physical exertion like a concept rather than a practice.

"Oh. Hi, Dr. Reid," you blurted, the words tumbling out clumsy and unpolished, as if your tongue had forgotten how to function. You winced instantly. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer didn't answer right away. His grip on your arm slackened, but he didn't step away, didn't even give you an inch of space, like he had no intention of letting you breathe properly.

Oh, that's fine. Air is overrated anyway.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated as if he were genuinely considering the question, but you knew better.

His expression hovered somewhere between pity and uncontained glee, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

Your lips parted, but your mind refused to cooperate, stuck on an endless loop of oh my god, did you actually just say that?

To Spencer Reid. The same Spencer who had, on multiple occasions, resorted to scribbling entire paragraphs on the back of receipts and once, when truly desperate, his own wrist. Spencer, who physically flinched at the sound of a cracked spine and once spent seventeen uninterrupted minutes explaining the significance of marginalia. Spencer who read like breathing and talked about prose like it was something alive.

And you, a person allegedly with working cognitive abilities, had just asked him what he was doing in a bookstore.

You opened your mouth, whether to correct yourself or just inhale enough oxygen to function again, you weren't sure, but before you could, Spencer, with precisely zero struggle, reached up and plucked the book from the shelf like it had been placed there specifically for him. 

"You should've asked for help," he murmured, and oh, that was definitely amusement in his voice.

"I-I had it under control."

One brow arched, unimpressed.

"Sure you did," he mused, lips twitching like they couldn’t quite decide whether to commit to a smirk. "Although, considering that 20% of bookstore-related injuries stem from ill-advised attempts at reaching high shelves, you were probably just one statistic away from a minor concussion."

You narrowed your eyes. "That's not—there's no way that's a real statistic."

Spencer barely reacted, flipping open the book with the same casual disinterest of someone checking the sky for clouds, except this wasn't a change in barometric pressure, and you were positive your entire nervous system had just gone into meltdown mode.

Your face burned, heat creeping up your spine and flooding through you veins at an alarming speed, and—oh, no—you had officially run out of places to look that weren't him.

And he (unfortunately) made such an easy focal point.

His shirt was rumpled like he'd spent the whole day forgetting to sit properly and a barely-there ink smudge kissed the edge of his palm, the kind only noticeable if you were close. His hair was at war with itself, some strands curling forward rebelliously against the collar of his cardigan, others falling forward, brushing the edge of his cheek.

He didn't glance up as he murmured, "Philosophy?"

The words barely had time to settle before your brain supplied an immediate translation: he was about to analyze you.

You could practically hear the gears turning, the internal mechanisms of his brain whirring at a speed that actually did defy physics. If you concentrated hard enough, you might've been able to hear the faint whir of neurons firing, piecing together a framework of analysis that was surely seconds away from being spoken into existence. He was surely already forming a hypothesis, already constructing some impossibly insightful revelation about what this particular title said about you, your worldview, your subconscious motivations.

"Well—yeah, that one," you said quickly, the words tripping over each other. “I mean, it’s not real philosophy—well, obviously, it is, but not in the way you would define foundational philosophy, but it still presents some really interesting moral dilemmas, and the writing is surprisingly digestible considering the subject matter is so—”

You clamped your mouth shut so fast it was a wonder your teeth didn’t rattle.

What were you even saying?

"Um—yeah. Philosophy. Or... something like that."

Spencer's lips twitched, and then, in a move so profoundly unsettling, he smiled.

Not just any smile, either. A real one. The kind that didn't just curve his mouth but softened him entirely, the corners tugging upward, a barely there dimple surfacing at his cheek. 

It hit you like a perfectly aimed dart—sharp, direct, and entirely crushing. Something fluttered wildly in your chest, light enough to feel stupid, but heavy enough to be a problem.

Then, still smiling, he tilted his head, leaning in just enough to invade your space, his voice dipping like he was handing you something fragile.

"I didn't take you for the existentialist type."

Your first instinct is to argue, to insist that you're far too well-rounded, too multifaceted, too impossible to be pinned down by a single school of thought. But before you can even begin to string words together, Spencer tilts his head just a little more, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that feels dangerously close to that same expression of analyzing once again.

And suddenly, you need to redirect this conversation, desperately, urgently, before your body betrays you, before you start visibly sweating or keel over like a fainting goat. Neither feels like an optimal outcome.

"I—I mean... I could say the same about you."

His lips quirk. "Interesting. And why's that?"

"I don't know. I always assumed you'd be more of a rationalist? Like, Descartes' methodical doubt feels like something you'd respect, and even Kant's categorical imperative, although that's more deontological ethics than strict rationalism, kind of aligns with the way you view morality and decision-making, and—"

You stop. Blink.

Oh no. You’re heavily invested in this man’s philosophical alignment.

You purse your lips, clearing your throat like that’ll erase the absurd level of thought you’ve just admitted to having.

"I mean, I'm probably way off."

Spencer flips the book closed, considering.

"I supposed you could argue I lean toward rationalism," he allows. "But morality is messy. Kant insists on universal law, and let's be real, most people abandon objectivity the second emotions get involved."

He glances at you then, a shift so small it shouldn't feel significant, but somehow, it does.

“For instance, we all make exceptions. We justify things we probably shouldn’t. Sometimes we prioritize people in ways that defy reason.”

His lips twitch. 

"Hypothetically speaking, of course."

“Well, yeah,” you say, caught up in the current of the conversation before you even realize you’ve been swept away. “People make emotional calculations constantly. Even when they claim objectivity, their decisions are shaped by personal attachments.”

The thought unspools too easily, words tumbling forward, carried by momentum.

“And it’s not just morality—it’s cognition in general. Have you read Jonathan Haidt’s work on moral intuitionism? He argues that people make moral judgments first based on instinct, and then rationalize them after the fact.”

You glance up, expecting a rapid-fire counterargument, some impossibly well-structured debate. But Spencer is just watching you.

"So what about you?" he asks suddenly. "Would you say you make exceptions?"

You pause.

"I mean… yeah? I guess I do. Everyone does, right? If someone I care about does something morally questionable, I’d probably be more inclined to defend them than if it were a stranger. I mean, that’s just human nature."

Then shrug. 

"But that doesn’t mean I’m being hypocritical," you add quickly, as if you just realized how that sounded. "I think there’s a difference between conscious favoritism and subconscious moral bias. It’s not like I have a specific person I’d automatically justify no matter what."

Spencer exhales. "I think you're more consistent than you realize."

You blink at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, lifting the book in his hands, fingers drumming idly against the cover. “You try so hard to rationalize your emotions. But I think, if it came down to it, you’d make an exception for someone. Just one.”

Your stomach knots, and it's humiliating how obvious you must be. You can feel your pulse everywhere, in your throat, your wrists, your temples, like your entire body is broadcasting, Hey, Spencer Reid is making you malfunction because he somehow sees right through you, somebody send help.

“I—well, I mean—”

“Relax, it’s just a theory.”

But something about the way he says it makes you not relax at all. And before you can scramble for some kind of coherent response, he nods toward your book.

“You should get that one,” he says lightly, handing you back the book. “I’d love to hear your take on it next time.”

You freeze. Next time?

Oh. Oh no. The words settle over you like an ill-timed realization, and your brain is running the math like you're about to file a report on your own social incompetence. Next time implies... a prior time, a recurring time, a pattern of times. Next time implies he assumes there will be a next time. 

And you assume that he assumes that you are the kind of person who could logically expect another bookstore trip with Spencer Reid as if that's just a thing that happens in your life. Which is absurd.

Your fingers tighten around the book, like holding onto an overpriced paperback will somehow restore balance to your rapidly deteriorating world. Your pulse is a problem and your ability to think critically is a casualty. 

You scramble for something, anything, to say, but before your brain can reboot, Spencer is already moving. 

Then just as he disappears into the next aisle, he tosses one final parting shot of his shoulder—

"See you soon, then."

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[moonstruckme]

Hello! I find myself unable to stop thinking about fae Sirius, so here's another drabble about him as sort of a continuation to the first :)

cw: brief, vague allusion to sex

fae!Sirius x whimsical!reader ♡ 745 words

You’re scanning the earth for small, white flowers when there’s a rustle in the bushes nearby. You turn, expecting the orange streak of a fox vanishing into the brush or a bird taking flight, but you see nothing. The forest is quieter today, as it has been for you lately. Stiller. The sort of place with secrets. 

You draw in a breath as arms snake around your middle, catching you in their snare. 

“Hello, my little naïf,” says a familiar voice, smooth and lovely as the rock in your pocket. “What are you doing wandering about by yourself?”

You turn in Sirius’ arms. He grins down at you, and you press your smiles together in a gentle kiss hello as your own arms wind around his middle. He likes spending a lot of time pressed close together like this; you didn’t know you’d enjoy it so much until you did. 

“I’m looking for chickweed,” you answer him. 

Sirius’ eyebrows raise. Like most of him, they’re beautiful, finely shaped things; you reach up to trace your finger underneath one. Sirius very dignifiedly does not preen over it. “You’re not looking for me?” 

You shake your head, though you both know it’s a lie. You’ve always enjoyed this particular forest, but you visit twice as often since you met him. You’re never not thinking about Sirius, finding things for him, wishing to see him. It’d be embarrassing if he weren’t the same. 

“I was looking for you,” you confide to appease him. 

He tuts softly, a smile curving one side of his mouth. Sirius loves when you’re plain about your feelings for him. He doesn't always return the courtesy, but that’s alright; you can tell that they’re there whether he does or not. He wouldn’t have given you his name otherwise. 

“And what have you brought for me today, lovely thing?” 

“Do I always need to bring you something?” you ask, teasing. “Am I not enough by myself? You never give me anything.” 

Sirius’ eyes flicker with amusement, because this too is a lie. Sirius has given you many, many things. He’s taught you how to listen to the moods of the wind and shown you how to entice butterflies to rest in your palm and brought you unimaginable pleasure one long afternoon by the creek. Not least of all, he’s given you his devotion, proven in a thousand tiny ways. 

You’re unable to conceal your smile as you reach into your pocket, pulling out the rock you picked up this morning. It’s oval, worn to perfect smoothness by the rushing waters of the river you found it near, and a grayish blue that reminds you of Sirius’ eyes (when they stay still for a while, that is). 

Sirius takes the rock from you, studying it. He rubs his thumb across the top. “This is pretty.” 

“It is,” you agree, basking in your own private pleasure. You think he’d still say the same thing even if he did know why you chose it for him, but you enjoy keeping this to yourself. Sirius’ eyes slide to yours like he can tell you’re keeping secrets, but he doesn’t push. 

“Not,” he says, “as pretty as you, however.” His hold tightens without warning, drawing a surprised giggle from you as your bodies come flush together. “You’re more than enough of a gift.” 

You hear the sincerity in his tone and repay it in kind, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I know.” 

Sirius’ eyes squint the way they tend to do when you particularly delight him. Just before he calls you strange or silly or my lovely little oddity. He doesn’t say any of those things now; only, “You won’t find chickweed around here, you know.” 

You frown. “If I knew, why would I be looking?” 

Sirius heaves a great sigh and presses his lips to your temple before loosening his hold on you. He guides you away from your little patch of bushes by your hand, moving with otherworldly grace. “There’s chickweed by the meadow. We’ll find it for you there. Do you use it for something?” 

You nod. “Pesto.” 

His brow furrows. 

“It’s food. I’ll bring some for you to try.” You give him a sweet look. “Thank you for showing me where to find it.” 

A low hum. “What would you do without me?” 

“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll never have to find out.” 

“No,” he agrees, fingers winding between yours like vines, “you won’t.” 

[khattikeri]

admittedly shen yuan was super lucky to be transmigrated into an adult instead of as a suffering child who'd struggle with forming their own golden core. but even if he had been, i think he'd be really capable. like, disturbingly. he's no luo binghe, but he's genuinely good at what he does.

shen yuan is more of an all-rounder intellectually than we often give him credit for, with keen observation skills even without the system helping him out. sure he has his own interests (worldbuilding connoisseur -> obviously in-depth knowledge of culture and ecosystems). but he's smart and capable in a balanced way.

he doesn't flounder to come up with strategies. he takes to swordfighting with surprising ease. he excels at virtually every challenge on his own, and loves being occupied and having things to do. if he were transmigrated into someone more close to luo binghe's age, i can easily picture shen yuan as the genuinely kindhearted shixiong whose tragic fate encourages others to live on and fight in his memory...

also: that stern, serious face of his is equal parts Lofty Mean Facade and an honest part of who he is. shen yuan hates emulating shen jiu so much that from the beginning everyone realized (despite the inability to confirm their suspicions) he wasn't the same person!

even when the ooc lock is lifted, he continues to behave in a dignified, refined manner, whose emotions are kind of hard to read! but he is earnestly kind to others instead of catty or cruel, and that's the biggest difference. shen yuan does cares about appearance and image; it's not all an act. he's just easily embarrassed and doesn't like people drawing attention to whether he's done a good deed.

all that to say, if shen yuan were transmigrated as a disciple, i can easily see his personality being roughly the same: a bit more relaxed since he doesn't have the responsibilities of a peak lord, but still endearingly kind, a nurturing nag to his shidimei, with eloquence and elegant poise that makes everyone go crazy for him.

[snickerdoodlebaby]

Thanos/Choi Subong NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: NSFW (18+), smutty, substance use, manipulation (this takes place pre-games btw!)

I imagine you two to have a friends with benefits situation. Subong doesn’t like commitment and the sexual tension between you guys is too intense to ignore.

His motto is “tits or ass? why not both?”

Would love to get you to smoke weed with him, especially the lazy messy makeout sessions that ensue during it

Has tons of experience. Don’t worry, that translates to veryyy good things for you in the bedroom, he’s so goddamn good at eating pussy.

Loves your legs over his shoulders, pressing your legs to your chest, mating press, anything that evolves him feeling up your soft legs/thighs and bending your body in half.

Doesn’t take off his cross while he fucks you. It dangles between you two as he’s above you, resting coldly on your boobs when he leans down to connect your mouths in a sloppy kiss.

Can be mean in the bedroom, but mostly very cocky and just loves to see you embarrassed and flustered. Loves the huge ego boost he gets when you cover your face in embarrassment or you can’t help the cute pathetic noises leaving your lips. You’re so cute! He’s not below making fun of you until you pout with your plump bottom lip out, and he loves to tease.

Loves when you whine his name out, “Subong…” and give him your pleading puppy eyes. He’ll grin widely and pinch your cheek, sometimes giving you what you want. Most of the time makes you beg for it while you try to hide your blushing face.

“Beg Thanos if you want it so bad.”

Will refer to himself in the third person cuz he’s silly and cocky like that

I imagine him living the high life in a mansion before he lost all his money to crypto. It’s big, modern, lots of marble and granite. Throws tons of parties where everyone gets shit-faced. Loves loves loves you being there so he can sling his arm around you the entire party. If you’re a party girl you’ll be living the dream everyday of your life. If not, well, you better get used to it, the drug scene and all.

That being said about his house, his room is a stark contrast to the rest of his place. Dim lights, neon signs along the walls spelling out his name in Korean and english, dark red walls and black accents. Various music equipment lying around, a futon (his favorite place to get blowjobs from you), a few weights, and his king-size black bed which is never made. Smoke almost always clouds the room creating a dream-like atmosphere. It always smells like weed or sweat in there and his floor is covered in clothes (some of them being yours that you forgot about).

LOVES LOVES LOVES IT when you wear one of his shirts and just panties. It’s so oversized on you and hangs off one shoulder. He thinks you look so sexy like that. Your favorite shirt to borrow is his neon green one, it smells so good, so Subong.

Pretty fit but not overly muscular. He’s got great pecs and loves to walk around shirtless ‘cause he knows you’re so weak for it (and just because).

So often you’ll show up at his place and he’ll be lazily walking around without a shirt on and a baggy pair of shorts slung low on his hips, far enough to see the brand of boxers he’s wearing. His cross laying on his bare chest between his pecs. Makes your legs wobbly.

He’s constantly got scratch and claw marks down his back from you. And lovesss to show it off.

Loves to pay for you to get your nails done (so you can scratch him with em), honestly loves to pay for your everything and I can see him using money recklessly to show off. Will never let you buy anything when you’re with him.

Will be trying to get you to use. If you don’t already, he’ll see it as a conquest to corrupt you. He knows it’s bad and doesn’t really care, he’d love to bring you down to his level if it meant you two could feel good together. Will definitely be manipulating you into taking a pill from his cross.

“C’mon baby, it’ll make y’feel so good. Ya trust me right?”

Gives you substances through sexual methods only. Popping a pill in his mouth and kissing you, pushing it through your lips with his tongue. Putting a pill on his tongue and sticking it out for you to lick off. Blowing smoke & vapor into your mouth.

Has a thing for your mouth and lips. The view of your lips stretched around the base of his cock is his favorite thing in the world. When you leave lipstick stains on his pelvis he doesn’t want to wash it off afterwards.

This man has a tattooed and pierced dick — he has no shame and a high pain tolerance. He has a dark solid line running down his shaft (like the one on his neck), a ladder piercing and a stud at the tip (like a Prince Albert piercing). You couldn’t lie, it intimidated you when you first saw it, your eyes going really wide when it sprung out of his boxers. He laughed above you at your reaction, a lopsided smirk forming on his face. How was that gonna feel inside of you…? “M’gonna make you feel so good baby.” Turns out he was right, it felt fucking fantastic.

Nicknames he has for you include baby, babe, senorita, flower, mamacita when he’s feeling playful. In bed it’s my slut, whore, Thanos’s whore, plaything. “My bitch” when he’s drunk or on strong substances.

Wants you to get a tattoo of his name so fucking bad. Has brought up the idea in passing a few times, seeming not super interested. But in reality he’d find it so fucking hot, especially if it was on a hidden part of your body like your ass cheek, the word “Thanos’ bitch” surrounded by a heart inked into your plush flesh.

Would spank the shit out of that tattoo on you.

Loves to spank you in general, needs to see that ass jiggle when it’s bouncing against his bare hips.

100% records you during sex and loves taking photos of you (whether you realize it or not during the moment). Has an entire photo album dedicated to it <3

I need to see more of him before the games, that 2 second clip was not enough smh.

[revvethasmythh]

listen, now that everything is said and done i'm going to say something i've been thinking but not outright saying for the past nearly four years. frankly, imogen and laudna's relationship is a pale shadow of caleb and veth's and if you really sit and think about it, it's outright embarrassing for the former party. it's like if you saw a beautiful piece of art and tried to emulate it and then the only thing you managed to jot down that was the same was the basic shape and you never added any color when the color was the most important part. imogen and laudna's relationship is formed out of almost the exact same origins (troubled mage who needs to keep a distance from regular society joins up with monstrous misfit with a traumatic backstory and become each other's most important person while traveling place-to-place because they keep getting into trouble in cities). the difference is, genuinely, how much more colorful and lived in caleb and veth's story feels. they met in a podunk county jail and worked together to break out of the place, stayed together for practical reasons (straight-up survival) and then out of genuine friendship. they were hobos in the woods together. they cuddled on the side of the roads on cold nights together. they were genuinely each other's sole lifeline because they were the type of people no one in the world cared about in a very real, visceral way. they were also con artists, and sam and liam worked together to come up with an entire booklet of different cons they used to survive, which come into play surprisingly often during the campaign (Modern Literature, famously, but also Mother's Love and Money Pot featured).

comparatively, we know next to nothing about what imogen and laudna's lives looked like after leaving gelvaan, and the Incident™️ that sent them running in the first place remains amorphous and random no matter how many times the story is told or whatever extra details get added. the people of gelvaan found laudna to be a generically threatening presence (because of her fun-scary appearance and/or kooky-fun-scary behavior) and picked up their torches and pitchforks to run her out of town. imogen heard her thoughts and found them so beautiful she nearly killed two of the townspeople she grew up with the defend her and then they fled into the night together. and that's it. what did they do for two entire years after that? i don't know! neither do you. they don't appear to have struggled for money like caleb and veth did, there's no reference to hard-living, no real reference to what jobs they took to stay afloat, no mention of the practical realities of living as homeless nomads, no mention of towns and cities they'd visited and how those places impacted them. nothing. empty. no color. how did their relationship develop? also don't know! they seem to have slotted together perfectly as friends with no conflict for years before slotting together perfectly as lovers while batting aside all attempts at conflict later. done and dusted, that's the relationship, and people have the gall to call caleb and veth's successor relationship 'soulmatism' when it doesn't hold a candle to what the original offered.

which was, to be clear, endless complexity. i can't tell you how to define it, and i don't think the character's themselves could define it if they tried. sam went into the campaign intending to lean into a familial relationship and quickly realized that wasn't the vibe, course-corrected into veth having a crush on caleb--something sam has said developed fairly early in the campaign.* liam went into the relationship not intending to care about her nearly as much as he ended up doing, then spent the early campaign eps grappling with just how suddenly important she was to him, to the point that, in the face of her potentially dying in episode 20, liam says to sam, "do you want to make my character turn evil already?"** both were surprised at how tightly their characters clung to each other, and developed a deeply caring, highly insular dynamic where they were suspicious of outsiders and desperately guarded each other. with full retrospect, both went into the relationship intending to use each other (caleb for general usefulness/protection and veth, obviously, hoping caleb could change her back one day), then found such deep and tender care that they became each other's worlds. for a time. until nott became veth and veth had a husband and it sent their relationship into a tailspin because no matter how you frame the relationship, caleb clearly felt his feelings for her and the way they behaved together stepped over the line of how one should act with a married woman. after that, he is terrified of the idea that he might not have a place in her life and works so hard to create opportunities to insinuate himself into her present and future (teleportation spells so she can travel home quickly and still return to the group, making room for her family in the tower so she can stay with him, offering to tutor luc in magic to stay in her life, etc). veth gets her body and her life back but fears returning home will be lackluster compared to what she's experienced with the group, starts falling out of love with her husband, and has intense extra-martial feelings for caleb that are canonical. their relationship morphs and changes constantly throughout the campaign, and the one thing about their dynamic that never changes is how deeply and truly they love each other. you want to talk about soulmatism? them being the two party members with fake names who's real names share aspects of each other ("Bren" and "Brenatto") both from small-town dwendalian empire who's lives have been deeply impacted by meddling of the cerberus assembly (veth's in adulthood, caleb's in childhood) and who's deepest traumas are respectively fire and water does the trick for me.

so why is one so popular and the other, particularly as a romantic ship, very much is not? it would be obtuse of me not to immediately point to the fact that imogen and laudna are two pretty, skinny white women who claim to have deliciously little agency in their own stories and provide a blank enough canvas that the relationship can be whatever you want it to be. there's a reason there's so many AU fics for them, after all. caleb and veth on the other hand would center first a relationship between the handsome white fandom-popular sadboi and *checks notes* a self-described ugly, unfeminine goblin with deep neuroses and later a short, fat brown woman who also happens to be a young mother from a small country town. popular fandom, tragically, will almost always turn away from dealing with complexity of the latter for the empty calories of the former regardless of the quality gap between the two. if anything, watching the popularity of imogen and laudna's relationship has cemented my opinion that if veth had been different (either a man or a generically attractive white woman or someone more conventionally pretty just in general), widobrave would have been a massively popular ship, and i think it would have been regardless of veth's marriage. people can forgive a lot to write about their two generically attractive favorites getting together. they're a lot less forgiving for an ugly goblin or a fat, brown young mother, though.

tldr: reject modernity, embrace tradition. ship widobrave

*Talks Machina for C2E88, VOD no longer available, but a paraphrase of the quote can be found here **(2:09:30 on the YouTube VOD).

[aventurineswife]

Reader is pretty bad at crocheting. Despite their lack of skill, they were determined to ALWAYS crochet something for their beloved partner. Making cursed looking plushies. They always thought that their partner would throw them away or pay them no mind.. heck, even laugh at them. But to their shock, their partner keeps all those cursed and bad looking plushies at their favorite place. (Dan heng, Veritas, Kaveh, Sunday, Ruan mei.)

Not Perfect, but Still Yours

Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ruan Mei x Reader, Fluff, Soft moments, Imperfection, Comfort, Emotional Growth, Appreciation, Supportive Relationships, Gift giving.

Warnings: Mild embarrassment, Self-doubt, Lighthearted humor, Emotional vulnerability.

The soft light of the Astral Express flickered through the narrow window of the lounge, casting shadows on the scattered objects around the room. In the corner, a small, misshapen plushie sat, its lopsided eyes staring out toward the horizon. It was one of the countless failed attempts at crocheting you had made for Dan Heng. The yarn was too tight in some places and too loose in others, the colors clashed violently, and the stuffing was lumpy, giving the plushie a truly cursed appearance.

You couldn’t help but chuckle nervously as you held it, eyes scanning the room in search of a place to stash it out of sight. Maybe Dan Heng would never notice, or maybe he would laugh at it. It was far from the perfect gift you had envisioned when you started, but at least you had put your heart into it.

As you turned to place it on the shelf, you froze. There, perched next to the window where Dan Heng often sat, was not just one, but a collection of the most absurdly shaped, lumpy crocheted plushies you’d made. Their mismatched eyes, crooked smiles, and mismatched colors all stood proudly in their place, as though they were some kind of treasured collection.

Dan Heng sat across from them, his usually calm demeanor unchanged. He looked up at you, his deep, reflective eyes meeting yours with something resembling amusement, though his lips remained firmly set.

"You've been crocheting again," he said in his quiet, steady voice.

You stood frozen, your face burning with embarrassment. "I... I didn’t think you'd actually keep them..."

His gaze softened, though he said nothing else. His actions spoke louder than words ever could. He had placed them all so carefully in the space he cherished most—the quiet place where he could reflect on everything. You had expected ridicule, but instead, your clumsy efforts had found a place of honor in his world.

Dan Heng's soft sigh filled the room, but it wasn't one of exasperation. Instead, it felt more like a quiet acknowledgment of something that transcended words—something more meaningful than just a plushie.

Kaveh stared at the plushie you had given him, his sharp eyes wide with surprise. It was... a disaster. A mess of yarn in every possible shade of blue, with ears that were more like floppy lumps than anything remotely animal-like. The eyes were uneven, the stitchwork was clearly off, and the overall shape? Well, it was a stretch to even call it a plushie.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to laugh at it. He had seen you struggle for hours on end, your hands fumbling with the crochet hooks, muttering to yourself in frustration, and it made him smile. Not at the plushie, but at the sheer determination behind it.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, holding the plushie up carefully, examining it as though it were a fine piece of art, despite the chaos it embodied. "It’s... unique."

You looked down, embarrassed. "I know it looks awful, but I just wanted to make you something. I thought you’d throw it away, but... I wanted you to have it, even if it's terrible."

Kaveh chuckled softly, a sound that always made you feel warmer, even when the world seemed so cold. “Terrible?” He paused, looking around the room for a place to set it. “No, I think it’s just... different. And I like different.” He placed the plushie carefully on a shelf next to some of his architectural sketches, where he could see it whenever he needed a break from his work. “It’s special,” he added with a wink, “because it’s from you.”

You blinked in surprise, and before you could say anything, he turned to you with that familiar mischievous smile. "You’re not getting off that easy, though. The next one better have some structure to it!"

Your heart swelled at his words. It wasn’t about the perfection of the plushie, or even the art itself. It was about the thought, the care, and the effort you had put into it. And Kaveh, despite his sometimes chaotic nature, always saw the beauty in that. Even the cursed plushies you thought would be forgotten.

Kaveh placed a hand on your shoulder. “Keep them coming. I’ll cherish each one.”

You sat cross-legged on the floor, yarn tangled in your hands, struggling with your latest attempt at crocheting. It was a mess. The stitches were uneven, and the form barely resembled anything close to what you had intended—a plush owl. It looked more like a lumpy pile of yarn with mismatched eyes. A sigh escaped your lips as you tied off the last stitch, half-expecting Ratio to find it ridiculous.

Ratio was brilliant, confident, and quick to call out ignorance in any form. You had never imagined he would appreciate something as simple and imperfect as your crocheted attempts. Still, you found yourself crafting these weird, lopsided plushies for him. Every time, you feared he might mock you, dismiss the effort, or worse, throw them out. Yet, you persisted, as these small gestures were your way of showing him that you cared.

As you placed the little owl on the shelf, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. Would this be the one that pushed him too far? Would he finally tell you it was enough?

The next day, you walked into the room to find Ratio sitting in his usual chair, reviewing some ancient texts. As always, his gaze seemed focused, detached from everything around him—until his eyes flicked toward the owl. A small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he gently picked it up, inspecting it with curiosity.

"It's... oddly endearing," he remarked, his tone as blunt as ever. "This owl lacks the symmetry I would expect from a creation of logic, but it... has its charm."

You blinked, unsure if he was mocking you or genuinely complimenting it. But then he placed it next to his prized collection of books, right on the edge of the table where he could always see it.

"I'll keep it here," Veritas added, his eyes meeting yours, his expression softening in a rare moment of vulnerability. "You made it for me. It’s a reminder that even imperfection has its place."

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. For someone who valued perfection and knowledge, this was more than just acceptance—it was a sign that, to him, your imperfections meant more than you could have imagined.

You stared down at the tiny, lopsided plush dove, your fingers trembling slightly. The stitching was uneven, and the wings were too big. Still, you had tried—really tried—to make it resemble the symbol of Charmony, something that would show Sunday you cared in the simplest way you could think of.

But doubt clouded your mind as you looked at it. Sunday, with his celestial grace and refined demeanor, surely wouldn’t appreciate such a... well, “cursed” gift. The way he carried himself, so composed, so perfect, made you think he would find your attempt childish, perhaps even laugh at it. He was a being of such beauty and wisdom; what would he want with a lumpy, hastily made toy?

You took a deep breath and placed the plush dove in the corner of the room where he often meditated, hoping it would at least bring a smile, even if it never left that spot.

Days passed before Sunday came by, his eyes scanning the room, and then, to your surprise, he made a soft sound of recognition. He knelt down beside the dove, lifting it up gently, his expression unreadable as he ran his fingers over its wings.

“It reminds me of something,” Sunday said, his voice softer than usual, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Of the Charmony dove, yes, but also of simpler things. The kind of things we forget to appreciate sometimes. Thank you.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. He was holding the plush with such care, as if it were something sacred, placing it right next to his meditation cushion. Every time you saw it there, you felt a little less doubt in your heart. The dove, imperfect as it was, had a place in his life—just as you did.

The yarn slipped between your fingers, tangled and frayed, as you struggled to crochet another creation for Ruan Mei. You had tried your best, but the result was far from the elegant designs she would create. It wasn’t even close to the delicate perfection that she embodied in her work. Instead, your plush was a strange amalgamation of mismatched colors and poorly sewn stitches. It looked more like a confused blob than a creature.

You sighed and set the plush down, a small knot of worry forming in your stomach. Ruan Mei was brilliant, precise, and focused. She could easily craft life from data or manipulate biology to create perfect forms—what would she think of your chaotic mess of yarn?

Despite your doubts, you carefully placed the plush on her desk, right next to the microscope where she often worked. You felt foolish for thinking she’d notice or appreciate it.

The next time you saw her, she was sitting at the desk, inspecting the intricate DNA strands she had created. Her eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on the plush, you held your breath.

At first, she merely stared at it, her expression unreadable. Then, with an almost imperceptible smile, she reached for it and held it up to her face, examining it carefully. “This is...” she began, and your heart sank. “...unexpected. But I suppose life has its imperfections, doesn’t it?”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard her correctly. She placed the plush next to her notes, her delicate fingers smoothing over the yarn. “It’s... a reminder that even in something this simple, there’s beauty. You made this for me, didn’t you?”

A warm, familiar sensation bloomed in your chest as she looked up from the desk, her eyes softening. “Thank you. I’ll keep it here. It has... its own kind of elegance.”

Her words, though quiet and understated, were everything to you. Even in her scientific, precise world, your imperfect creation had a place—a place she had carved out for it, just as she had carved out a place for you in her life.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Zelda knew the way to City Hall by heart. Week after week she had picked up Violette from school, staring at it across the street while admiring how its stately white columns reflected the sunlight like a mirror. Now, she was standing right in front of it, too nervous to move her feet but too restless to simply stand still anymore.

She looked down at the card in her hand once more, even though she knew every line from anxious fixation. Alexander Barnes, Librarian. Letting out a deep breath, she put the card in her pocket before walking into the building.

As she stepped inside the heavy wooden doors swung shut behind her. Immediately, the noise and heat from the courtyard became a distant memory. In front of her another set of doors were open wide to a simple courtroom, one she hadn’t seen in half a decade. Quietly, a myriad of emotions overcame her, bolstering her resolve as she realized that maybe this place was a nexus of new beginnings for her after all. 

A new sense of calm accompanied her as she followed a dim, sparsely furnished hallway to a closed door inscribed with a shining metal plate. Alexander Barnes, Librarian. She stood still for a moment, listening to see if anyone was inside before she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

A distracted voice told her to enter, and before she could second guess herself she turned the metal handle and walked through the door. The office was small, filled from one corner to the next with books and mismatched furniture that made her think the whole scene was moments away from bursting at the seams.

In the middle of it all sat a man at his desk, his glasses beginning to fall down the bridge of his nose as he stared diligently at a stack of papers in front of him. At the sound of her footsteps, his gaze bolted up and he seemed not to recognize her. Both of them looked at eachother with embarrassment, and Zelda nearly turned on her heels and walked back out the door.

She tried to muster an apology before leaving unceremoniously, but just as she gathered the courage to do so, a smile overtook the man’s face and he pointed familiarly in her direction. “Mrs. Duplanchier! You must forgive me. You’ve caught me in the middle of a letter that has taken just about every ounce of my concentration. And all of this - the office - I mean, well, it’s just a mess, I fear. Would you - do you want to sit?”

His voice trailed off as he looked around the room for a chair. Other than his own there was only one, tucked into the corner and covered with books. As he moved them onto the floor Zelda’s eyes wandered through the room. He had books on every surface, tucked onto shelves, in stacks on the floor, perched precariously at the edge of the desk. But as she watched him move them to make room for her, she could tell that they had all been stacked carefully and with love.

“Ah! Here you are,” he rounded the desk and sat across from her, allowing her eyes to finish searching every square inch of the space without pressing her with questions. Her gaze finally settled back on his, which was still looking at her curiously. It didn’t seem to throw off her words quite as much as most people’s did. “This is - it's quite a collection you have here. I often thought the books I’d managed to collect were noteworthy but this - this is just remarkable.”

His eyebrow lifted slightly. “Do you have a collection?”

Zelda laughed lightly, mostly to cover up the embarrassment that she felt anytime she talked about herself. “It feels a bit silly calling it that here, amongst something so impressive. It’s mostly just books I brought from home - from England, I mean, when I was a girl. But I’ve bought what I could over the years.”

“England! I thought I may have heard as much back at the truck. How did you possibly end up here?”

Her eyes trailed away from him slightly, roaming back to the stacks of books that were lining the walls. “Its a long story, I suppose. One infinitely less interesting than any selection of which you have here. May - may I ask you about them? The books, I mean. And the truck. All of it really, how any of this came to be.”

With an affirmative nod of his head Zelda began the litany of questions that had come to her mind over the weeks of waiting for this meeting. There was very little about his job that she didn't want to know. Where had the books come from? Where did he drive? Was someone pay him to do so? Where was he headed next?

He answered each question thoroughly and patiently, as though no one had taken the time to have such an interest in his work before. As she reached her last question, where was he headed next, he smiled widely and pushed his glasses up even higher on his nose. “Nowhere, hopefully. I’m working on a request for the Works Projects Administration to open a permanent location in Strangerville.”

Zelda’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “A - a real library, here? In Strangerville?” 

“That’s my hope. Of course there are competing proposals but I’ve been surveying the region and the town is perfect. With the Route running through it and the abandoned Queen Annes up the hill, it’s exactly what the Administration is looking for.”

He could easily read the look on her face, a mix of childish amazement and interest, and ventured further, “Listen, I - I unfortunately can’t promise anything; but if you have an interest in the project I will need a team. They’ll want a catalog of everything I’ve collected and a survey of potential locations. I should know who the grant is awarded to in five - maybe six days? I’ll write to you, if you’re interested.”

“Yes!” She answered so quickly that her anxiety barely had time to register what she was saying. “I - would love that.”

Previous / Next

[kawhh]

you’re the only person who shares my wavelength openly so here i go….

I often think about having sex with Trevor and Quinn watching from somewhere in the room. Quinn either heard you moaning Trevor’s name in your sleep, overheard a convo with your friends, or just staring at trevor? Idk but whatever caused him to let trevor take you momentarily while he watches and interrogates makes me feral.

He’s asking things like “does he f*ck you like I do?” , “is he treating my pussy well?” “Are you done fantasizing about him?”

that’s right, quinn’s pussy - not yours, quinn’s and he’s loaning it to trevor.

Unfortunatly for everyone around me on this app I am incapable of not being open. I'm too much of a whore and I've been given a voice.

He knows Trevor watches you. How could he not? He notices everything. He doesn't let you out of his sight after all.

He's noticed you reciprocating the looks. Not enough to make him angry, but enough to make him aware that there's probably something there.

He can't let it fester. He can't let this get out of control. He needs to shut the shit down now.

it's easy enough to convince Trevor to go to your room at night. Telling him that he understands, convincing him that he won't be angry or upset if he gets it out of his system.

He can wait patiently knowing that it's happening. Seeing Trevor sneak into your room, hearing your panic and shock. Can hear him convincing you that you both have permission. Tightening his grip on the door frame, every instinct screaming at him to start his plan when he hears the first moans coming from the room.

He's slipping into the room, silently locking the door behind him, questioning his every decision seeing Trevor fucking into you, how he's hovering over you. How small you look like under another man, the anger burns in his veins. He wasn't fully prepared. He'll admit that.

Hearing your moans for another man? Hearing you cry on another cock? Watching your legs shake?

You're both so distracted you don't even hear him grabbing a chair. Neither of you reacting until he parks himself right next to your head, smoothing your hair.

"He fucking you good, baby?"

The look of shock on your face is priceless. The way you cycle through emotions. Shock, panic, embarrassment. And now you look like you're going to cry, so fucking adorable. His little whore.

"This help getting him out of your system, sweetheart? With how poor he's fucking you? Look at him, he's not as thick as me. Bet he's not even reaching your cervix, huh?"

Laughing as Trevor tries to fuck you harder, he can tell he's getting frustrated with his comments. But it's not like he said he wouldn't do this.

"Has he even made you cum, babe? Did he warm you up? Was he being selfish?"

Rubbing brutal circles on your clit, hearing your delicious screams.

"Don't worry baby, I'll take care of you. Treat your pussy right. You won't look at him ever again, will you?"

[sunrisecaminus]

Ollo :>

Could you do a femme seeker reader x Megatron?

The reader is Megatron’s Conjunx and has wanted a sparkling for a long time.

Unfortunately thanks to the war, things make life unsafe to try start a family.

Now, thanks to the nemesis, it’s the perfect time to ask.

The reader is shy about it a first, beating around the bush until she blurts “I want a sparkling”

Cut to Megatron’s breeding kink(if that makes you uncomfortable then that’s ok), being pounded into oblivion into his throne.

Megatron is on his 4th load of transfluids but will not stop until he is sure the reader is satisfied and full.

Thank u :>

Message - When I said you could be freaky, I meant it. No judgement here man. I gotchu!

Megatron x Seeker Reader NSFW

Summary - Seeker conjunx is starting to get really impatient about Megatron not getting her sparked.

Warnings - NSFW, Breeding Kink,

It has been so long sense you and Megatron talked to each other outside of work related things. You have had enough from all the battling at this point and just wanted to be free from all the Autobots for once. You needed air from General Starscream and his arrogance so when you got a scouting mission you knew this was a perfect opportunity to leave.

You have been flying for about 4 hours now, but you didn't want to land. The clouds and the sky were beautiful on this planet and you wanted to take it all in before you went back in that dark ship. Going over rivers, mountains, and even flew over to another state just to see new environment. You ground bridged to the ocean and had fun splashing your wings in the water while going 1,600 mph. You being one of the fastest seekers out there made Starscream jealous, but you didn't care. After landing yourself on a mountain cliff, dangling your legs over to watch the sea waves, you started to think about things you have been wanting. One of the first things that have come to mind was finally having a little sparkling of your own. Every time you try to bring it up to your conjunx, he would just think you are talking about something else. That man, even if he hates you saying it, was the most oblivious man ever. You have even tried FLIRTING, twitching your wings at him, doing some lovely romantic dances with him in the berth room, and even kissing him a few times while telling him about what they should do when the Decepticons wins once and for all. He will never get it! Seekers are very much known for not being down to earth and not saying exactly what is on their minds, so you aren't use to telling him exactly what you want. It would be embarrassing for you if you had to tell him "Hey lets have a sparkling!" You feel butterflies even thinking about telling him so bluntly.

Someone is wanting to speak with you on your com link so you answer for them. "Hello?" Normally it would be Megatron or Starscream trying to reach you, but today it was surprisingly just another seeker. "Good Morning mam, please make your way back as a meeting is about to start in 2 hours." You were getting a bit annoyed about this, another meeting…really?! You thank them and end the call, transforming and going back to the ship. You land on the top to meet Starscream reading on a data pad, probably another report. Even if you don't want to admit it, you and Starscream are very close friends. He may be a bit of a baby, but you help him from getting hit by Megatron quite often and it got you two to get closure and talked more about things. "Hey Star, can I talk to you for a second?" You put a hand on your hip sassily. "Not now y/n I-" He interrupts himself when he looked up and saw you were pissed. He puts the data pad down on a table and turned his whole body to face you. "You ok?" "No, so many things have been on my mind. I have told you before that I have always dreamed of having a sparkling to take care of for the next generation, but Megs won't even look at me in a loving way anymore and I haven't had a kiss from him in 12 years!" You were so frustrated, wanting to get everything off your chest finally and Starscream took a second to load all the information you just told him. "Well have you tried wing communication?" Ah, Starscream also thought Megatron would know such an important Seeker language. He has been known to control the entire Seeker army and for some reason doesn't even know a flying fuck about Seeker culture. "I have literally danced with him and we even were going to kiss…until he said he needed to talk to Soundwave and he would "Dance with me later". Like HELLO!" Your wings were down and twitched a bit in anger. Starscream rolled his eyes to give you a motion that he completely understands where you are coming from. "Oh please, he can't be that stupid. At this point just yell at him. Don't show anymore kindness to him about it anymore. He needs to realize that if he is dating someone from another background, he is going to have to learn a thing or two about who we are." Starscream just pats you on the shoulder and tells you that he will see you at the meeting and leaves. He was right about something…that mech needed to learn a lesson or two.

Before the meeting you wanted to give him one last chance. You walk up from behind Megatron and gently grab his hips. "Boo~" You smile with a loving look as he turned over to you with his angry expression. Once he sees that it is you, his eyes soften and grab your servo, kissing your digits. "How are you dear." You blush a bit, but lovingly give him a boop on his chest. "I was wondering if you would like to do to the next level after the meeting, hmm?" This has to be the perfect hint you good give him. What else would this mean? This was giving "Fuck me alright" energy and your tone said so. Megatron smirks and you wait for something flirty like he always did…but than-. "Well of course. I will put you in charge of the fleet next battle. I knew you have been getting bored about staying in the back. We can talk about your role in the next phase soon. I just need to talk to the others about their newest reports." He lets go of your servo and walks off. Holy Scrap that blew the fuse in your mind. No…No…NO! He has to be doing this on purpose! Megatron is the leader of the Decepticons and yet is so blind that he can't even find a TANK IN A STORAGE CLOSET!!!

You didn't go to the meeting, you needed to show him that you didn't care about his order about being there. You didn't want to hear him speak right now and took your lovely time in the Berth Room you share with Megatron. He noticed immediately that you were not there. Genuinely he were very confused from seeing you just a few minutes before it started. After the meeting he noticed the Berth Room was occupied and he came in to see you cleaning your wings, looking out the window to see the lovely sunset. You looked to beautiful to him, your elegance and lovely plating shined from the light and your eyes were always nice to look at. "You weren't in the meeting." He was the exact opposite with you, down to earth and blunt with what he wanted to talk about. You turn to him with narrow eyes and an angry look, which made him understand that he fucked up in some way and shut the door. "You never got it, for years I have been trying to show you that I was ready…but you never seem to look at me like you use to." Oh did it piss you off when he raised his eyebrow at you in confusion. You just wanted to smack him. You kept talking. "You notice everything else. My needs, the things I love, my support for the cause. Whenever I want to give you a life we both can share, You never seem to turn my way!" Megatron stayed silent, waiting for you to finish, he knew you were upset about something so he let you continue to hopefully hear what you desired from him. He obeyed your wishes a lot, he never knew he was ignoring one that you deemed important. "I want a Sparkling. Your Sparkling!"

Oh boy, did he just get whiplash from that statement. Before the war he has been telling his conjunx about his dreams of him getting you sparked and being able to take care of their sparkling's together. Now Megatron feels like a dumbass…scrap this whole time you have been giving him everything to show him you were ready. His spike was already pressing against his panel, but he needed to know if you were still ready. "I apologize for the torture you must have been going through, sweetspark. Would y-" Before he could say anymore, you sit yourself on the berth and lower your wings in a cute position. "Get over here right now you fragger." Megatron didn't ask anymore questions and grabs you by the neck, forcing you down onto the bed and biting your arm. "Whatever you wish~" His panel pops and you see his spike is fully ready for you to use. He bites your neck and keeps your hips in a good hold as you pull your head back and moan from the pleasure that you are being given now. You wanted him so badly, but you needed him to work for it after what he put you through. Your wings twitch from how good you felt Megatron touching you after years of not interfacing. After a while, your pede presses against his spike, making Megatron stop what he was doing to groan from the pressure you just gave him. "ngnn y/n…" Smiling from what you just did, you push his chest to get him to be the one to lay down as you climb on top of him. You shove your aft in his face as you start to lick the base of his spike with your glossa. You hear Megatron moan a bit louder, but than your panel is opened and your valve starts to get licked. "Ah! Megs! You Aft!" You hiss from how slow he was going and stopped giving friction to his spike, which made him realize that you were going to be a bit of a brat if he didn't do what you wanted. He starts to eat you properly as you feel his glossa going into your walls. Finally feeling satisfied from your valve being used and takes in his whole spike after a few more licks. Both of you were in a daze, trying your best to pleasure each other without becoming a moaning mess.

You feel as Megatron was about to release and you stop, shutting his tip so he didn't drip anywhere and he hissed from being stopped. "You brat!" He growls at you as you turn around, putting your valve above his spike. That made him shut up before he could say anything else and holds your hips again, ready when you wanted to move. You smile, in love at looking at your conjunx's face and lowered yourself on his spike. He exhales from how warm and tight you were; your wings spread to their full wingspan as your walls stretch to make room for him. After a while of both of you trying not to move, you start to go up and down, staring into his optics with nothing but love. He smirks at how you look right now, you were such a mess. "Look at you, craving for my sparklings. They will all be yours." He tells you in a deeper tone, knowing you crave for his sexy voice again. You look up to the ceiling and start feeling like you were going to finally cum. "Megs-ah!" You grab his hands that were clenched around your waist as he claws at your plating, both of you releasing at the same time. You stay sat deep onto his spike, making sure none of his fluids leave your valve. You stay where you were as you finally were at peace with everything. Megatron lays you on his chest and hugs around your body, helping you feel safe after such a vulnerable event took place. "Another Round?" You smirk from him asking such a stupid question. "You don't even need to ask".

[lilithrosexoxo]

Ch. 3 Meal

Sunlight gleamed through the parted curtains painting the room in a warm glow. You pull off your cashmere weighted blanket with a yawn and a stretch moving your stiff muscles. After Jinwoo left you quickly passed out after taking another bath and changing your clothes since your previous ones were soaked in your slick. Your face heats up at the thought of last night and you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You still can’t believe that you came from just being licked on your scent gland but it shouldn’t surprise you. You were still a virgin and haven’t even so much as kissed another person. As prime omega your parents were insistent on keeping you pure for your future alpha. Not to mention with the connection between you two all of your senses were heightened around him. His smell, his touch, his voice, his eyes, everything about him was simply perfect to you. As you imagine his tongue on you, your thoughts become inappropriate as you imagine his tongue in other places and you immediately feel slick start to pool in your panties. You groan at the feeling and your scent permeates the air. How on earth were you going to function around the man if the thought of him has you creaming your panties.

“By the goddess I’m insatiable”, you think to yourself, “maybe I should take care of myself before going down for breakfast”, and with that you retreat to your bed to handle your problem.

xoxo

After 3 orgasms you finally feel satiated enough to get ready. You allow your handmaidens into your nest and dress you in a simple but elegant gold gown while they braided your hair into a fishtail braid. Finally ready, you decide to head downstairs and join your family for breakfast. You head into the dining room to see your family and Jinwoo already seated. To your displeasure Elowen has taken a seat across from Jinwoo and was attempting to flirt with him but she was being completely ignored. Your brother Aldwin sat by Jinwoo’s right side and his left side was empty as it was reserved for you. He was engrossed in a deep conversation which brought joy to you. Out of all your siblings you and Aldwin had the closest bond and knowing that your alpha was having a good conversation based on his chuckle had your omega purring in contenment. 

Jinwoo’s eyes looked around as he felt another presence in the room and his eyes lit up as he saw you.

“Wow she’s beautiful”, he thought to himself. While you looked stunning in the moonlight you looked absolutely radiant in the sunlight, “the lunar goddess has truly blessed me”, he thought. He quickly gets up and pulls out your chair for you.

Your face heats and you look down as you take your seat finding it hard to make eye contact when he is looking at you with such an intense gaze.

“Princess Y/N it is a pleasure to see you in the sunlight, you look divine”, Jinwoo says as he takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

You feel lightheaded from feeling his soft lips against your skin but quickly regain your composure and finally look him in the eyes and by the lunar goddess you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get over how such a perfect being was your fated mate. 

“It’s good to see you as well my alpha”, you say silkily.

Jinwoo feels himself throb in the confines of his pants at hearing you call him your alpha. His eyes begin to glow lilac and you think you’ve done something to offend him but he simply chuckles and returns to his seat.

“Y/N, are you and Apha Sung really fated mates?”, the baby of the family, Reign asks with round eyes. Even though he’s only 15 he’s already found his mate a strong alpha that spoils him rotten. 

“We are fated mates, the feeling was just as mother described it all these years. I would’ve never imagined it would be Jinwoo”, you say as you look down.

“I think you found the perfect alpha Y/N and I’m so happy for you. I told you, you weren’t cursed”, says Aldwin with a smug grin on his face. You often vented to your brother about how you swore you were cursed to live a lonely life but he always reassured you that you would find your mate. You feel immensely grateful that his words were true.

“Can we please have this conversation over breakfast? Mother I’m starving, we spent forever waiting for Y/N. What were you doing that took so long?”, your sister Liza asks, eyeing you up and down. You didn’t look that much different then your usual get up so she can’t imagine what took so long.

Jinwoo chuckles and you look at him confused. He laughed like he knew exactly what you were up to that morning and oh shit knowing him he probably did. Then the realization dawns on you, Jinwoo can implant his soldiers into peoples shadows and view them directly from their eyes. You looked at him eyes widening as he just looked at you with a knowing smirk.

You bury your head in your hands. You can’t believe you forgot one of Jinwoo's key abilities. You can’t believe he saw that you were riding your toy like a bitch in heat and moaning his name the entire time.

“Th-There’s no reason to discuss what took me so long. I just wanted to look good enough for my alpha”, you say pretending like you’re not drowning in a pool of your own embarrassment but the scent wafting from you betrays you. Thankfully your family decides to not question you further and your mother rings in the chefs.

A grand feast is laid before your family which is reasonable, your parents did have six omegas and that size doesn’t include your mother or Jinwoo making it a party of 8. You’re pretty sure the chefs are trying to impress Jinwoo as there are a variety of meats laid before the alpha. You take in the spread there are pancakes, waffles, toast, eggs, blueberry muffins, fresh fruit which includes dianach, redamia, salal, and thorny peaches, fresh orange, pineapple, and grape juice and even a large pitcher of ambrose wine. There are typical meats such as bacon, sausage, and ham but you can also smell the more exotic meats the chefs must have brought out for this occasion such as griffon meat, ice bear meat, and even filet steaks from a wyvern dragon. The room smells heavenly and your family wastes no time digging in. 

The twins Ifrit and Shiva are fighting over who had claim to the muffins which you found amusing considering that there were a dozen that were baked but meal times were often like this. Even though you were all omegas you had a healthy appetite however, your appetites dwarfed in comparison to Jinwoo. You saw him load plate after plate of meat, eggs, and cheese and you kept in mind to reach out to the chefs later for more cooking lessons involving meat. While you excelled at vegetarian dishes your skills with meat were subpar at best.

“So Jinwoo do you think you could want any concubines?” Elowen asks without a hint of shame.

You choke on the waffle you were eating. While concubines were common in the royal kingdoms, if an omega couldn’t keep up with her alpha’s sex drive it was uncommon for prime alphas and omegas as the connection was so deep that the bond prevented them from wanting to have sex with anyone else.

You felt a low growl emanating from you before you could even stop it. You felt like you were seeing red. Your omega was furious and you slowly felt yourself losing control. Your claws and canines lengthened and sharpened, your eyes began to glow, the smell of burnt rubber danced in the air.

“Oh you’ve done it now Elowen, don’t expect me to bail you out”, Aldwin deadpannes as he continues to chow down on his meal. 

How dare she!? Was it not enough that she had her own mate and now she’s trying to move in on yours? You just found your fated mate after all these years alone. Watching your friends and family find their mates while you sat on the sidelines. Jinwoo was YOURS. You feel your control over your omega slipping as the seconds go by. You were about to lunge across the table and gouge out her eyes until you felt an arm drape around you and squeeze you to a firm chest.

“Calm yourself princess Y/N”, Jinwoo whispered in your ear as he caressed your face lovingly before addressing Elowen, “That’s Alpha Sung to you and I have no intention of having anyone else from now on other than princess Y/N”, he spoke in a calm but stern voice.

At that you felt yourself relax but took note of that he said now. That means Jinwoo must have experience right? Then a realization hits you. You were about to attack your sister and from the looks of it everyone would’ve allowed it if Jinwoo didn’t stop you. You don’t know what came over you but the thought of your alpha with another drove you up the wall and had jealousy coursing through you. Were all fated mates like this or was it different since you were a prime omega? By the look in your mothers eye you knew that to be true.

With that breakfast thankfully concludes and the servants come in to clean up.

“Alpha Sung, Y/N I think a trip to the garden would do you both well. Get some fresh air, take in the scenery, it’s important for you to get to know one another before your lunar union” your mother states as your siblings get up to leave the room except for Elowen who is still shooting heart eyes at YOUR alpha but you know there’s nothing to worry about. Jinwoo is loyal to you and no one else and that soothed your omega and anger at your sister.

“Come with me Jinwoo I’ll take you to the garden”, you say as you take his hands in yours.

[cassyapper]

Jotaro grunts as they get to their room and, as Joseph warned, there is only one queen sized bed. His only solace is that Joseph and Polnareff will be dealing with the same predicament. There only being one hotel in a drive-through town makes their room choices limited…

He sighs, setting his bag down on the floor of one side of the mattress, Kakyoin silently taking the other.

Kakyoin digs through his duffel then, likely for his pajama set given the hour, the blue of dusk fading to the purple of night through the window, while Jotaro scans the length of the bed, then himself, considering if his full length will fit. Kakyoin's not the shortest guy either, he muses as he watches Kakyoin return to his full height from his duffel, his pajamas in hand.

Jotaro hums, moving to sit on the bed, only for Hierophant to manifest and gently hold him back by the shoulder.

He jumps, whipping his head up, and Kakyoin smiles, amused, before saying, "Hey, we're gonna sleep there. Try not to lie down on the bed until we're both showered, okay?"

Jotaro grunts. "You've never cared if I shower before sitting down before."

Kakyoin raises a brow, snorting. "We've never shared a bed before." Jotaro shudders, hair rising along the back of his neck. "Come on, I don't want to sleep on dusty sheets." Jotaro grimaces at the description, his skin suddenly itching.

"Don't say it like that..." Jotaro grumbles then, and Kakyoin raises a brow.

"Dusty sheets?"

Face heating up a bit, Jotaro scowls, crossing his arms. "No."

Kakyoin's brows pinch, gaze scanning over him, and Jotaro squirms. "What, then?"

"Don't act like an idiot," Jotaro tries to bite, but his voice wavers, and Kakyoin's face screws up a bit. Jotaro ducks his head, tugging the brim of his hat down. "Look, I won't sit on the bed until I shower. So you should go first and-"

"Sharing a bed?"

Jotaro goes still.

Kakyoin blinks in Jotaro's periphery, before he snorts. Jotaro whips his head up, embarrassment riding up his spine, making him grit his teeth against its waves.

"What?" He snaps, and Kakyoin just snorts again. "It was weird to say!"

Kakyoin snickers, but his eyes are crinkled with his smile, and some of the anger in Jotaro's chest falters. The embarrassment certainly doesn't, though. "I won't- kehehe, I won't say it again, but why does it bother you so much?" Kakyoin giggles.

Jotaro glares at him, letting out a harsh exhale, before he ducks his head again, adjusting his arms against his chest. "Just... It makes us sound like we're..." his voice gets hushed, almost in a whisper, "... married... or something..."

Kakyoin blinks, lips parting, and some color sinks into his cheeks then, and Jotaro feels a little vindicated.

But then he says, "Jeez, Jojo, you think about us getting married often?" And Jotaro's back to being the reddest in the room, tugging his hat down over his eyes so sharply he almost rips it off.

"Good fucking grief-" Jotaro shakes. "Kakyoin-"

Kakyoin giggles again, and it's such an ugly sound, Jotaro wishes it wouldn't set his blood on fire. But, he supposes, he already feels much too warm, and at least this is a nicer heat than that of embarrassment.

Unfortunately, such a thought only brings some shame into the mix, and Jotaro rolls his eyes viciously at himself.

"Why- why would I think about us getting married?" Jotaro spits out, trying to get away from his thoughts. "We're both men."

Kakyoin raises a brow at him again and Jotaro sort of wishes he would stop doing that, because everything in his body cavity from the top of his chest to the seat of his hips feels like liquid. "It's not legal at home, sure, but people still find ways to get functionally married," Kakyoin says.

Jotaro feels like he's skipped the last step of a stairwell. "Huh?"

Kakyoin studies him for a moment, and Jotaro wishes he would drop it. He wishes for once, Kakyoin would leave well enough alone and shrug, take his shower, and let Jotaro drown out his embarrassment with a cold shower of his own.

Kakyoin's not his friend because he behaves accordingly, though.

"Jotaro... men get married," Kakyoin says. Jotaro sort of wants to take off his coat, with how much he's sweating, but the thought of showing any skin right now makes his heart jump to his throat, so he keeps it on.

"With- with wives," Jotaro agrees, frowning at his own shakiness. What, exactly, is he so nervous about?

Kakyoin tilts his head. "With other men," he clarifies, and for some reason, Jotaro feels a shot of adrenaline.

"How?" Jotaro asks, voice a little too desperate, and he turns then, sick of humiliating himself. He shoves his hand into his pocket, pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, and moves to the window, shoving it open with his free hand and sitting stiffly in an old wooden chair placed nearby, technically going with a desk in the corner.

It’s quiet as Jotaro flips the lip of his carton open and slides a cigarette out. He clicks his lighter to life, brings it to the end of his cig, and inhales. The smoke swirls into his lungs and Jotaro holds onto the burn, trying to will all his embarrassment to join it as he exhales it out, coughing slightly.

He jumps when Kakyoin’s hand is on his shoulder then, whipping his head up. Kakyoin raises his hands in a surrendering gesture, and Jotaro sighs. Eying him, Kakyoin sits down on top of the desk, the old wood creaking underneath his weight.

They stare at one another for a second, and Jotaro takes another drag, spitting his smoke outside the window.

“Does it… bother you?” Kakyoin asks quietly.

Jotaro blinks, turning back to Kakyoin. “What?”

Kakyoin sends him a flat look, but still answers, “Men getting married. To other men.”

Jotaro is shaking his head no before he realizes, and he freezes, gritting his teeth at his own anxiety. “No, I- no.”

Kakyoin stares at him, hard, eyes scraping over every pore in Joaro’s face it feels like, and Jotaro adjusts in his seat, glancing back outside to avoid the ultraviolet of Kakyoin’s gaze. Finally, Kakyoin’s brows pinch, and he leans forward a bit. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Just-” Jotaro shakes his head. What was wrong? What wasn’t wrong? His mom is dying halfway across the world and his soul is a ginormous purple monster of incredible strength, he needs to kill or be killed by the most insane people he’s ever seen, and the boy in front of him makes him so twisted up inside Jotaro’s half convinced he’s developing an acute form of scoliosis. Jotaro sucks in a breath. “I just didn’t know that was… allowed.”

Kakyoin’s brows pinch further. “... Allowed?”

Jotaro sucks in another breath of cigarette smoke instead of clarifying.

Kakyoin stares at him before leaning back again. “Jotaro, you know gay people just… exist?”

“I know-” Jotaro sucks in a breath. “I just-” Am I allowed to look at you like this? Are you allowed to make me feel like this?

Kakyoin tilts his head, and his bang swings, and Jotaro’s fingers twitch, his cigarette nearly slipping out of his hand. He fumbles, catching it, only to hiss and he burns himself with the filter. He shoves the cigarette into his mouth and crosses his arms, glaring at the floor. Kakyoin politely ignores it, but he does bring a hand to his mouth. Jotaro glares at the glossy wooden paneling.

“Jotaro,” Kakyoin prompts, and Jotaro’s shoulders hunch up to his ears, but he glances up at Kakyoin’s face anyway. He wonders when he became so obedient when it came to Kakyoin, and he shudders at the thought. “You know it’s not something that needs permission, right?”

Jotaro twitches. The ash in his throat is making his mouth dry.

“Jotaro,” Kakyoin continues, and Jotaro jerks again, “do you know men can just- love other-?”

“Kakyoin,” Jotaro interrupts, his voice hoarse from the smoke, and Kakyoin stops talking. Jotaro takes a few inhales of his cigarette, his nose burning, before he brings a hand to his mouth and takes it out again. “I just- I never- I never see it?” It sounds juvenile, but Jotaro isn’t sure how else to explain.

Kakyoin’s face softens a little then and Jotaro twitches again, his skin itching. “It’s not really broadcasted, no, but,” Kakyoin shrugs then, leaning back on his palms, and Jotaro tries not to think. “It still happens. People can still meet… and fall in love…” Kakyoin’s cheeks get a little pink then, and Jotaro really tries not to stare, but he’s exhausted and enraptured and scared and he can’t look away. “And even if it’s not… conventional, they can still get their happy endings.” Kakyoin locks eyes with Jotaro then, and Jotaro’s breath hitches in his throat. “And even then… you know you don’t need to get married to be in love? Again, unconventional, but it’s still an option… The love is there either way, just like with a man and woman.”

Kakyoin tilts his head and Jotaro’s starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, to make his bang swing like that, to make it caress his face and make Jotaro twitch like he’s being electrocuted. “We’ve never been the most conventional people in the first place anyway, huh, Jotaro?” He murmurs, and Jotaro damn near falls out of the chair with how hard he shudders before he stands up, breathing noticeably.

Kakyoin raises a brow, but doesn’t move, and Jotaro feels like this is all entirely unfair. He spits out his cigarette, drops it, and scrapes it into a pile of ash on the hotel floor.

Kakyoin’s wide mouth curls into an amused smirk. “Owner won’t like that.”

Jotaro shrugs. “I’m going to shower,” he says gruffly.

Kakyoin chuckles. “You never answered me, you know.”

Jotaro pauses, glancing at Kakyoin.

Kakyoin smiles lazily. “You think about us getting married often, Jotaro?”

Jotaro slams open the bathroom door and Kakyoin cackles. “I think about you shutting up often,” he snaps over his shoulder, and Kakyoin just snickers, the echo of it following him even as he closes the door.

Jotaro sighs, bracing his hands on the sink as he breathes for a second, looking down at the drain as his guts, fuzzy and warm and swirled up, try to separate and regain their independence again. Kakyoin jumbles him up so bad.

Men can meet… fall in love… Get married, or not… The love is still there either way.

Jotaro shudders. Fucking Kakyoin.

He turns on the shower to the coldest setting he can stand.

[thebreakfastgenie]

This might be a bit spicy a take but the way leftists talk about populism being an amazing thing or whatever annoys me because like… populism is just low level demagoguery I won’t lie. Or at least, demagoguery is the natural conclusion of populism if taken to its furthest extent.

I think populism is woven into American culture. It's all through our national mythology. "We the people" are rallying words for Americans. The problem is and always has been defining who the "common people" are. Most people think of themselves as belonging to that group and so define it as "people like me" which often has poor results for obvious reasons, especially in a country with very little class consciousness. This relates to a lot of things but I want to point out race specifically because it's been so integral since the beginning. A lot of populist narratives inherently define the common people as white. We have a cultural image of a "real American." Why is someone from the heartland (it goes so deep!! the fact that it's even called that!) more American than someone from New York City? A lot of Americans put people outside the "common people" category based on things like education or identities they view as cosmopolitan. Millionaires and billionaires can make aesthetic choices that will code them as less elite than a New Yorker with a masters degree. Populism just seems to be a losing philosophy for the left. The right makes it work. Look how rampant anti-intellectualism is.

Even when people do view the ultrawealthy as out of touch, a lot of it is more motivated by jealousy than justice. People responded to Bernie Sanders' rhetoric, but I think a significant number of them were, consciously or not, thinking "it's not fair that these people are rich and I'm not." I think a lot of Americans believe if you could stop a few people from hoarding wealth, everyone could be rich. Not just comfortable and cared for, but rich. We're a nation of temporarily embarrassed millionaires. The myth of the American Dream comes back to haunt us once again. To Bernie's credit I think he knew that and was hoping he could persuade these people but it didn't work (and he should have given up after 2016 imo) and I don't think the people on the left who came after him are as aware as he is.

It's always funny to me when leftists point to the popularity of hating on big corporations. Everyone hates big corporations as a concept, but the feelings behind it can be very different. A lot of people fantasize about being business owners. A lot of hate for corporations comes from smaller business owners who are protecting their business interests. This is not exactly Marxist in nature. This is another reason the conflation of "big corporations" with "capitalism" is a problem! Lots of people hate big corporations and love capitalism. They also hate vague images of guys in suits sitting around boardrooms. They absolutely love the services big corporations provide and sometimes identify with the corporations themselves! People love Walmart, they love Amazon, but they hate "big corporations."

[sophies-junkyard]

While he’s still trending, this is your sign to explore Kendrick’s discography. He’s so much bigger than this beef with Drake (and the “beef” is so much bigger than “he hates Drake!” but I’m hoping we all know that by now). Here’s some ideas on where to start:

The GNX album has incredible range . From hype tracks like “Tv off” to the introspection of “reincarnated”. It’s a 10/10 (literally). If you only have the energy for one album, this is a solid pick. It’s a good way to sample what he’s about and see where he’s heading.

After that… I mean for me it’s gotta be Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers. How do I even explain this? People who were surprised by “Meet The Grahams” had CLEARLY never heard “Mother I Sober”. This album will leave you staring at the void in stunned silence. It’ll make you feel empty inside but like… in an addicting way. It’s a masterpiece. If you’re intimidated by the number of songs, I would AT LEAST hear “United in Grief” and “mother I sober”. (Drake directly referenced “mother I sober” in his track “family matters”. He aimed low while ALSO misinterpreting the story like a fucking clown. Embarrassing af lol.)

2015-To Pimp a Butterfly. Depending on who you ask, this is Kendrick’s best work, and uh… yeah it’s hard to disagree. This is Kendrick in his element. A brutally honest examination of racism and violence wrapped in some of his most aggressive vocals to date (and I mean he LITERALLY uses so much growl on these tracks). But the MUSIC is…. chill? It’s also varied as hell. It’s an evening of slam poetry backed by smooth jazz. Then he’ll hit you with a slick guitar riff and some panicked breathing into the mic. The album is crucial to understanding Kendrick as an artist. Picking standouts on this one feels stupid (and everybody has a different opinion) but “Alright” and “King Kunta” are classics. “I”, “How much a dollar cost”, “you ain’t gotta lie”, “the blacker the berry”…. I’m just gonna end up listing every song. I’m also a fan of the“for free-interlude” lol. Oh and “Mortal Man”. I honestly don’t think there are any skippable tracks on this one. Just let it flow.

His 2017 album DAMN was a major success, and was how I got into Kendrick. If high school parking lots came with an OST, “HUMBLE” would’ve been our Green Hill Zone. Idk if that made any sense. Point is, it was popular as fuck. “DNA” was another huge hit. The album sounds edgy and hyped, but the lyrics are an invitation for the audience to like… choose his fate. It’s all about judgement day. Growth, reconciliation, criticism of fame. It’s a shame that it got reduced to “omg humble is a banger!!”. The fact that Uncle Sam shouted at Kendrick to “TIGHTEN UP!” And he performed HUMBLE in response... Damn.

2011- good kid, m.A.A.d city. “Money trees” is a classic with a super chill beat. And the metaphor of “planting money trees” has become a huge part of his identity. Representing his literal desire to share the wealth with his community, and his desire to stay true to his roots. It was ALSO something Drake dissed him for “failing” to do (though his record of philanthropy says otherwise). The titular songs “good kid” and “m.A.A.d city” are iconic. “Swimming Pools” is often cited as his first big hit. Side note: The album cover featured a van (I think it was a Chrysler?) that became a symbol of Kendrick’s career. and Drake fucking destroyed it in one of his music videos. Bitch.

There’s so much. He also has a series of 6 songs called “the heart” that usually drop before a new album. He has a ton of other albums that I didn’t even mention because this post is way too long. I know I skipped a lot of bangers so please let me know about them. Also this post 100% assumes everyone has heard “6:16 in LA”, “Euphoria”, “meet the grahams” and “not like us” because… I mean come on. Ok that’s all. happy listening!

[mischieffae]

After Hours | Loki x Fem!reader

Summary: Spending the majority of the evening working on an important business project, the two of you find release within the empty building's cubicles. Who knew that a time crunch could unleash all this pent up tension?

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, fingering, squirting, rolled up sleeves (because that's a thing yes), half clothed sex, using the office desk inappropriately, hanging on with the tie for dear life

Word Count: 1,881k

Notes: This was supposed to be TVA Season 2 Loki. But it turned into corporate office AU. But you can still picture him as such. Listen, I have a thing for this type of scenario ok? I don't know jack shit about corporate but I do know a lot about smut, so that's all that matters. 😈

The soft ticking of your office's clock was driving you slowly mad, each little noise an irritating scratch against your brain. The computer screen's blue tint made your eyes burn with exhaustion. It was half past midnight, an absurd time to be still working on the company's reports but someone had to do it. Asgard Inc. didn't really care how it got done, but IF it got done. Thankfully your colleague Loki Laufeyson decided to tag along for the ride, most likely regretting his decision as you hear him sigh in boredom while typing away.

Maybe this would get you a raise? You highly doubt it. Perhaps a good ol' pat on the back, a gold star? Or a pizza party.

Speaking of food.

Your stomach grumbles in protest, a finger loudly clicking down on the mouse with enthusiasm as you finish your last line on the excel sheet. Tired hands lift to run across your eyes, totally forgetting about the 12 hour mascara that you're still wearing.

Fuck it.

You can hear a small chuckle from the cubicle next to yours, a rustling of feet sounding before a familiar head looks over the wall.

"You finished already? I think that's a new record you know."

Makeup smeared eyes raise towards his voice, your brows furrowing from the incoming headache. Why didn't he look as disheveled as you? He was here as long as you were, perhaps a couple hours more. And yet here he stood, hair still gorgeously intact, tie a bit loose but nothing tragic. Probably didn't even notice the time on the clock since he's had way more coffee than you. It wasn't fair.

"Record for the slowest report on Earth maybe. What about you speedy? You must've finished hours ago."

"Two, actually. Then I was just getting caught up on emails."

Of course he was. You give an eye roll with a groan, a wide smile forming on his face in victory. The two of you had made it a game that whoever would finish first when it came to reports, the loser had to buy the other coffee the next morning.

For you, this was strike five.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, this time was a lot for you."

Was that sarcasm dripping off his tone?

"Why are you even still here anyways? Trying to gloat and rub it in my face? Not going to work Laufeyson."

Loki slyly brought himself away from the other side of your cubicle to stand proudly in front of you. You forgot how tall he was, your throat bobbing slightly as your eyes noticed the one little detail that always seemed to unravel you.

Those damn sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off those perfect forearms with small veins protruding off on them.

Shit.

"Now why would I do such an awful, terrible thing like that? I'm only here for moral support."

It was no secret that the two of you have been quite obviously attracted to one another, often sending each other small flirtatious signals that even a blind person could sense. Was it slightly embarrassing knowing that the whole company was aware of your devious attractions? Perhaps, but when it came to Loki you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore.

It also helped that he was a higher up. You were safe in that regard.

Your legs instinctually cross over one another, the fabric of your skirt rising to show a little more skin. Which, he was definitely eating this shit up.

"Why wouldn't you? It's in your nature, after all."

Oh, that seemed to get him. It was as if a switch had been turned on, the playfulness on his face morphing into a shade of desire that made your heart clench inside your beating chest. Suddenly you felt like a rabbit snared in a trap, the fox leaning forward to inhale the scent of timidness.

"Is that so? Hopefully a nature that you thoroughly enjoy.."

You didn't realize how close he was until a hand reached forward to ghost along your jaw, a finger curling around a loose strand of your hair.

There was no turning back now.

" .. - Always..."

Loki's mouth clenches slightly as he lifts you from your rolling chair with a swift movement, a strong hand resting on the dip of your back. The other, begins to hold the juncture of your throat and jawline tenderly. The twig has been snapped between the two of you, your eyes fluttering as he slowly leans inward to brush his cold lips against your own flushed ones.

"...Good."

The floodgates of desire finally thrust open, your mouths clashing together in a passionate slow dance. You swear you could hear a soft moan escape from his throat, your lips parting to allow his skillful tongue to wrap around yours. He tastes of fresh mint, and a slight taste of coffee beans, his cologne of crisp pine filling your nostrils in a heavenly aroma.

Gods you wanted to be devoured.

He pulls back with heavy breaths, lips pressing lewd kisses under the dip of your ear. You could hear his desire, his hot breath tickling your skin as you let him ravage your flesh. Shaking fingers lift to grab upon his leather belt for support, pulling towards your willing body in a desperate sharp motion. A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, his breath tickling your ear.

"If you want it, take it."

You swear he would be the death of you.

With a slight whine, your fingers quickly tug with annoyance as you unbuckle the belt, throwing the offending piece of clothing to the floor with a loud clank. Was he chuckling from your excitement?

Cheeky bastard. No matter, you'll have him singing a different tune soon enough.

You pull back to gaze into his eyes wantonly, a hand slithering inward to wrap around his hard length in triumph. Your hand begins a steady rhythm, twisting in just the right places as his hips roll into your grasp with a low pleasurable groan. A thumb presses upon his swollen head, his lashes fluttering against his high flush cheekbones. You could tell he was holding back and it made your heart flutter in excitement.

"What's that? Cat got your tongue so soon?"

Perhaps not the best thing to say in the moment, or perhaps it was. You couldn't decide. But he seemed to take your words as a challenge, his hand roughly moving yours out of his trousers before the other swept the items off your desk in one quick action.

Well that wasn't planned.

Loki's eyes are filled with mischief before he lifts your body to settle your back along the desk's surface, his hands moving to lift your skirt to settle upon your hips. Two can play at this little game.

"Not yet darling..."

His pupils are blown with lust, breaths releasing heavily past parting lips as his hands move to rub small circles on your hipbones. It causes your toes to curl in your heels, your back lifting upward to press into his grasp. There was a small silent plea in his eyes, and only you could ease the hesitance that stood before you.

"Then get on with it.."

If you could burn this memory in your head forever, you would. To see such a desperate man on his knees, his lips trailing along plush thighs while he lets your calves rest on his shoulders....it was almost too much. Your breath hitches as you feel his fingers roughly move your soaked panties to the side of your apex, your throbbing sex on full display for his pleasure.

You swear you heard him say something, beautiful, exquisite, along those lines. But words mean nothing right now, only actions.

A cry you haven't heard before escapes your lips as his hot mouth finds your dripping folds. He is a man starving, a moan rumbling against your clit as he devours you whole. His fingers tighten on the flesh of your thighs, your hands moving downward to grip raven locks as you buck into his mouth in rolling movements. Gods, it was heaven, that bastard so skilled with his tongue you for sure thought you'd faint right then and there. You moan his name with encouragement, his mouth pulling back to insert two strong fingers inside your core.

You lift your head to gaze towards your entrance, and what you find could only be described as ethereal. His mouth is glistening from your sex, his hair tousled from the roughness of your pulls. But what really got you was seeing his vein forearm thrust in quick upward motions, a breathless smile forming on his flushed face as he stimulates you to your climax.

"Come for me baby, come all over me.."

A coil tightens in your stomach before it unleashes with a tidal wave, your back arching in a tight motion before yelling out his name in ecstasy. Hot clear fluids spill from your cunt, the lewd noise of its wetness filling the air as he continued to thrust through your orgasm. It was overpowering, his heavy chuckle sounding in awe before he groans with content.

"Good girl, such a a good girl...."

You could barely respond as he swiftly moves to release his cock from its confinements, his hips wiggling to spread your thighs in a welcoming stance. It was a desire you didn't know you had in you, the type that would drive you mad if you weren't sated right here and now. Your reach to hold onto his hanging tie as he leans forward, the head of his length pushing into your cavern with one fluid thrust.

He gives you no time to accommodate his size but you do not care. Not when there was this much tension involved. You moan out his name while tightening your hold on his tie, using it as a rein to control the beast that drives into you. He's panting wildly, holding onto one of your thighs while the other arm holds himself upward.

You can't believe it is you that is making him sound like a wanton whore, that it was you that is making him hold back a whine as he thrusts wildly in a forgotten rhythm.

Your legs move to wrap around his hips to drive himself deeper, deeper, until you swear he is hitting your insides. It's keeping you feral, your eyes locking on his blown ones as his brows furrow with upcoming release.

" -.... Fuck.. I -...."

That was all he could mutter before a hand moves to wrap around your throat tightly but not enough to choke, a finger moving inside your mouth as you suckle on its digit. It makes him explode, a desperate moan releasing from his flush lips as he spills deeply inside you. Hot spurts of his cum coats your walls, your body tightening around him like a vice to suck up each and every drop.

He is shaking from the aftermath, heavy pants sounding from him as he gazes downward in awe from the pleasure. You both giggle in exhaustion as he leans forward to kiss you gently, your hands cupping his cheeks with a smile.

Yeah, you could stay after hours as much as you need to.

Tags! @thefairywithboots @oswildin @loki-cees-all @eleniblue @lokisgoodgirl @mischiefmaker615 @cueloki and anyone else that's ok being tagged, let me know!

[oacest]

oacest scholars, do you have any gcest fic recs for a beginner?

we decided to answer this in brief and limit ourselves to three recs each or, as evidenced by past failures to answer this same simple and straightforward request from other people, we'd spend forever quibbling about our choices and never actually post the dang thing. here, in no particular order, are some good jumping off points:

trill's recs:

1) @snickfic's baby, you're gonna be the one that saves me, aka my fave fic (technically series, it's got two parts) in this entire fandom. in which liam gets knocked up in the mid 90s by someone who's not noel, to noel's intense anguished jealous heartbreak mild dismay. even if you're not really into mpreg this one is well worth it. the characterization is god tier. bal and i insisted that jackie, who staunchly doesn't like mpreg, read it and even she was converted.

2) i could be your lover, you could be all mine, by hapaxlegomena. a collection of unconnected porn ficlets. lots of extremely tasty stuff in here, i reread random bits of it regularly.

3) the D'YA WANT SOME? series by one of our own triumvirate, bal! im sure she's squirming in horror that im including it but it is by far the best, most well-written, most well-characterized, thoughtful, hilarious, hot, fascinating work in this whole fandom imo, and is a perfect intro to the whole concept of pre/early days oasis and what noel+liam might have been getting up to behind the scenes (as it were) before they were famous.

bal's recs:

1) Filmstar, an orphaned fic on Ao3. This one gets recced plenty but for good reason. It's very funny in a deadpan way and the Liam in it is such a perfect little weirdo. It's a great fic to start with, readable even if you don't know all the lore and whatnot.

2) outta sight and outta mind by lustmord. this author writes Trauma and specifically the brothers' trauma in a way I find endlessly compelling. (for all that Everyone Knows about their shitbag dad, it is still such an unspoken and often unpredictable presence in the room; you can't really get into them without tangoing with it in some fashion)

3) Let Me Be The One, by @savageandwise. absolutely fantastic Liam voice, this author just GETS him. I often think about this quote as a literal thesis statement for Noel's whole insane deal:

You think he's perfectly willing to allude to it in public if he's the one pulling the strings. Cause he thinks he's cleverer than the rest of the world. He thinks it's edgy and rock and roll when he does it. It's his brand of anarchy. And when you do it you're just stupid and embarrassing and determined to destroy everything.

jackie's recs:

1) Trying To Find A World That's Been and Gone by @storyshark2005. my colleagues graciously let me be the one to put it on my list because this is Thee fic. as we were all getting into Oasis initially, this fic was our constant companion and teacher, holding our hand as the fixation unraveled within us. it's a present-day fic that beautifully and masterfully unpacks the entirety of their relationship from the glory days to the estrangement and it is so jam-packed with research and details, you can just assume that everything that's being referenced is based on something that actually happened. in my opinion, this is where any new fan should start.

2) If I Had a Gun by @savageandwise. it's probably cheating to put another fic by this author when bal's already done it, but... I don't care lmao. in many ways we're splitting hairs because all this author's fics are worth your time. but I do hold a special place for this one because it so wonderfully captures the tenuousness of their dynamic at any given moment. how they could go from fighting to flirting to hating each other to needing each other in rapid succession. it feels so true.

3) Here's Looking At You, Kid by RedheadAmongWolves. don't be thrown off by the fact that this is one chapter away from completion, it's still totally worth it. the characterizations are great, the vibes draw you in, the UST is delicious. honestly, this is really meant to function as an overall author rec. there were several here I could've chosen.

[scoobydoodean]

it's SO funny how crowley latches onto dean even tho sam is the one he feels "sentimental" about. bro was like. oh wow the human blood made me think i was in love with u or some shit, embarrassing. is your brother single? and i think that's why sam hates him

One thing I am noticing about Sam is that he is very anti-demon after season 4, which is understandable. We see this most strongly with Crowley in season 5, but it's not just Crowley—it's Meg too. And Sam and Dean also have many other reasons to hate Meg. But like Sam comments twice about how wary he is about them working with Meg in season 7, even if her only role is to keep watch over Cas at the hospital because they have no other options.

SAM I don't know. I mean, we can't just leave him. DEAN Well, we can't bring him with us. Everything on the planet's out for us, okay? Word gets out, we can't protect him. Not really. This is safer. Every demon who knows about Cas is dead. SAM Not everyone. Look, Dean, this whole "enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing feels kind of like a demon deal. DEAN It's not a deal. It's – SAM It's what? DEAN Mutually assured destruction. Look, man, I get it. She's not our friend. We don't even have friends. All our friends are dead.

It's funny because people often perceive Dean as this very dogmatic figure who can't handle the idea of working with demons and hates Ruby just because she's a demon, but he is the first person to trust a demon (the often forgotten Casey from 3.04). He never trusted Ruby, but he saved her bacon twice (3.09 and 3.10) because he actually does understand the concept "the enemy of my enemy is my friend". He shows this again with Crowley in 5.20 (an episode titled "The Devil You Know" which is rather pointed). Sam doesn't trust Crowley one iota. He tried to kill Crowley in 5.10 right after Crowley gave them the colt, and I actually think that interaction is what makes Dean decide Crowley can be trusted as an ally against the devil. In 5.20, Dean decides Crowley is on their side and agrees to go with him on a solo mission without Sam (because Crowley does not trust Sam not to shoot him) and Sam is so upset about it he vents to Bobby on the phone lol. (To Dean's credit, when Crowley tries to convince Dean to keep the Brady secret from Sam under the suspicion that Sam will fly off the handle, Dean refuses to lie to his brother).

But yeah I mean joking about Deancrowley aside, Sam has a strong distrust of demons post season 4 and has hated Crowley from day one. He 100% connects him with Ruby, and I don't know that his general distrust of demons or his hatred for Crowley in particular ever truly goes away. I mean I think there's a reason season 13 Dean only dares mention losing Crowley in a private prayer to god while shouting to the roof tops over Cas when it's made clear to him that Sam wants to ignore his death. I think Sam's probably at least a little resentful that Dean seems to be pretty good at figuring out when he can and can't trust a demon not to backstab them. Add the "summer of love" and Crowley's gloating about it and the resentment just builds and builds. Rowena didn't need to do any convincing to get Sam to kill Crowley for her lmao.