#i think white people should shut the fuck up forever at this point

[hussyknee]

Over and over I am reminded that institutionalized academia is a pillar of white supremacy. Expertise built on the exclusion of the colonized and disabled for the purpose of propagating colonial, eugenicist structures and rationalizations. Decolonial academia has become just an excuse to study us like bugs under a microscope and speak over us, rather than treat us as experts of our own reality and oppressions.

[whyse7vn]

Us -

[ot7 x reader]

AGUST DUI 🛴🔥

7 participants - 7 online

———————————

tae: ok raise your hand if you think yoongi should of died in the crash

namjoon: why would you say that?

tae: jungkook raise your hand

jk: ok

tae: not in real life the emoji please

jk: ok sorry

wait how did you know i raised my hand in real life??

tae: just do it

jk: like nike LOL

tae: i’m going to skin you alive

jk: sorry

🙋🏻‍♀️

tae: why are you a woman

jk: gender is a construction

hobi: construct

jk: control

hobi: we are not playing a game

i am correcting you

jk: oh

tae: connecticut

hobi: stop

tae: i wanted to play :(

hobi: it wasn’t a game can you read

jk: omg i know someone from connecticut

i think

jin: you have no friends don’t lie jungkook

jk: no i swear i do

tae: he does

hobi: don’t act like you know

tae: i know

hobi: who is jungkooks friend then?

tae: jungkook tell this idiot ☠️

hobi: i’m asking YOU to tell me

jk: i don’t know who it is

but i know

i’m going to go insane who is it ohmygod

y/n: jaehyun lmao

hobi: oh

jin: yikes

jk: i’m sorry

tae: how dare she lmao like she didn’t just cook my first born alive by saying that name

jk: she typed it btw

tae: that’s not the point jungkook

i’m throwing up

jk: ur right me too

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry

y/n: ???

don’t be sorry

jk: >.<

yoongi: lol

jin: tf he laughing at?

yoongi: we’re always talking about jaehyun for some reason

hobi: be fr

yoongi: …

y/n: shouldn’t you be dead from the crash or something

tae: IM SAYING LIKE

jk: maybe he’s still drunk

hobi: LMAOOOO

yoongi: i did not crash

namjoon: he just fell over guys

yoongi: right

jin: ofc the bitch with no license is defending the other bitch with no licence

y/n: typical 🙄

yoongi: why do you know he’s from connecticut

y/n: what????

namjoon: uh??

jin: wasn’t he JUST complaining about how much we talk about you know who…

hobi: kook was right this man is still off the juiceeeee

ha juice by shinee

i’m so funny wow

tae: if we think about it wtf is connecticut

what the fuck is that srsly

i hate that

what does that mean

america is so strange

another white thing i don’t get

i hate white people

jin: ur borderline white

tae: wtf is wrong with you never say shit like that again

ur borderline old

ur borderline dying

AND ur paler than me

like wtf

this poc erasure

someone get him

jk: connecticut more like connectiYUCK 🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢🤮🤢

EWWUUUUUU 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

hell on earth

yoongi: what

namjoon: ?

yoongi: are we talking about again

i just lost my train of thought

hobi: choo choo

y/n: chuu chuu

namjoon: jaehyun…

jk: 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤮🤢🤢

tae: AND we are talking about poc erasure if you even care

you probably don’t

because you’re a racist

just like your father namjoon

jk: yoongi is older than namjoon

btw

tae: ok???

maybe i wasn’t even talking to yoongi

jk: ok i’m sorry

tae: it’s ok son

hobi: who the fuck were you talking to then?

tae: well yoongi but like maybe i wasn’t at the same time yk?

y/n: shut up

jk: yes

y/n: ?

tae: ok raise ur hand if you think hoseok is being unnecessarily mean to kim taehyung the 3rd today

namjoon: anyways

yoongi are you ok??

yoongi: yeah sorry my head is just all over the place rn

forget everything i said

hobi: is this due to your alcohol consumption

or is it your age getting to you LOL

since your old

older than namjoon

jk: older than namjoon

jin: jungkook is 27 btw

y/n: 23 forever

jin: that’s almost 30 yk?

hobi: at least it’s not 31

yk…

like you

jin: ok

jk: ok !!!!

namjoon: yeah i don’t know what you wanted to get out of that one…

jin: kys

ALL of you

hobi: ❤️

jk: love is love

y/n: awoman

jk: awoman

tae: if you all loved me you would send me a stack

hobi: notice how no money is being sent to your account

take that into consideration

tae: how about you consider my fist in you face

ok i take that back

hobi: don’t

y/n: bryson tiller

tae: why not :(

you didn’t even know what i was gonna say hobi >.<

hobi: namjoon tell him to shut up

namjoon: tae please

tae: yeah ok 😔

cuz you know i do NOT want the smoke

he might do me like he did jaehyun 😭🙏🏼

hobi: will you STOP bringing that up

tae: will you send me a STACK?

hobi: no

tae: then NO

namjoon: both of you stop

also where is jimin??

physically i mean

like do any of you know?

yoongi: y/n’s house i think

y/n: no he’s not??

tae: woah

jk: btw that is also my house yoongi

so y/n AND jungkook’s house

yoongi: y/n and jungkook’s house then

y/n: he’s not here

yoongi: but he was

y/n: how do you even know that??

yoongi: i just do

y/n: ok ????

yoongi: ok

jk: ok \ ^0^ /

tae: wait

jk: JIMIN WAS IN OUR HOUSE ?????

jin: keep up ohmugod

jk: LIKE PHYSICALLY IN OUR HOUSE

WHERE I SLEEP AT NIGHT???

y/n: he wasn’t in my room no

if that’s what ur asking

jk: BUT HE WAS HERE???

AFTER HE WAS SO MEAN SO EVIL?!

y/n: it’s been weeks i was gonna talk to him at some point ig

hobi: communication is key!

not key from shinee btw

jk: WHEN DID HE COME????

WHY DID HE COME????

y/n: he came a few weeks ago

august 6th ? i think

to talk about everything and apologise

jk: you let him in?

tae: LIKE…

y/n: yes

jk: and where was i?

y/n: it was a wednesday so ur boxing class?

jk: i’ve been staying back for those classes

so he came late right?

y/n: yeah

jk: did you invite him?

y/n: no he kinda just showed up

jk: and you still let him in??

y/n: yes jungkook

jk: why didn’t you tell me??

y/n: i wasn’t trying to keep it a secret or anything it just a lot

like a lot seriously

i wanted to give both me and jimin some time to process it all before we brought it all back to you guys

but i was going to tell you

all of you

jk: yeah but like it’s been weeks…

namjoon: to be fair i also did talk to

jimin and didn’t tell anyone

jk: namjoon

jin: also did that

hobi: u all know i talked to him so…

jk: guys???

i’m confused like what he said was wrong but you’re all still talking to him

like everything’s ok???

namjoon: he apologised to her kook

jk: FUCK HIS APOLOGY?????

tae you get it right?? you didn���t speak to him right??

tae: no i get it

i get you

i understand fully

but i won’t lie to you

i DID speak to him

on the phone

only for 5 minutes tho

i counted

i just wanted to make sure he didn’t yk like kill himself or something…

you know jimin is weak like that

not calling people who commit suicide weak but like calling jimin weak cuz that’s what he is

jk: TAE?????????????

tae: SORRY SUICIDE IS REAL YK?

AND LIKE IT DOESNT TAKE AWAY FROM THE FACT THAT I STILL WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE

i was just

uh

checking?

namjoon: you can say you were worried about him you know that

jk: SHUT UP???£/8/8/8,&&:&,

NO HE CAN’T

YOU ALL HAVE NO BACK BONE /£2&/&&:&:

NO LOYALTY

HE BASICALLY CALLED Y/N A WHORE AND YOUR ALL FRIENDS WITH HIM AGAIN??????

LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?????

tae: NO I’M MAD IM STILL SO FUCKING MAD THE FUCK????

FUCK JIMIN I MEAN IT

jk: you are a liar

LIKE

guys what£/£/&/&:&:

i thought you guys were better than this ???

i thought you all cared

jin: don’t be stupid

of course we care

jk: then act like it????

y/n tell them

y/n: jungkook

jk: tell them

in fact

jk added jimin to “AGUST DUI🛴🔥”

jk: tell ALL of them

y/n: jungkook please

jk: y/n seriously

jimin: hey

jk: shut the fuck up

tae: dude

i know ur upset and angry but doing this rn isn’t gonna solve anything

namjoon: he’s right jungkook

ur acting on emotion and not thinking properly right now

jk: IM not thinking properly???

was jimin thinking properly when he called her a slut and then ran away like a bitch?? was he????

namjoon: obviously not jungkook

hobi: but they’ve talked it out and he’s said sorry

jk: HIS SORRY DOESN’T MEAN SHIT

WHAT DO YOU GUYS NOT UNDERSTAND?

his fucking sorry means nothing

him saying sorry doesn’t take back the words he said

or any of the hurt he caused

namjoon: jungkook like she told us they’ve talked about it and he’s apologised

i not sure what more you want

jk: I WANT YOU GUYS NOT TO MOVE ON SO FUCKING FAST??

I WANT YOU GUYS TO AT LEAST TELL HIM HOW FUCKED UP THAT ALL WAS

BOTH PUBLICLY AND PRIVATELY

he should be walking around eggshells around us rn

you guys should be giving him a hard time

not wondering where he is or whether he’s depressed or not

and you wanna know something?

after it all happened she cried for hours

hours

i have genuinely never seen her so upset

she told me not to tell anyone but i have to so guys can fucking understand

and the fact that we didn’t even know that her and jimin spoke???

does that not bother you all?????

the fact that she was “so fine” and “okay” about the whole situation but didn’t tell us that they had supposedly ‘made up’

tae: she said that she was planning on telling us

jk: yeah but she didn’t did she? it’s been weeks

she said they spoke august 6th right?

we are quite literally in a whole new month

and you ALL should know that when she doesn’t tell us things it’s because she’s upset

you should KNOW her

and how she deals with things

you all claim to care but i’m yet to see how

you know i was really excited about this

we were all you know realising

and coming to terms with this

us

i thought that we felt the same

but this has shown me that you guys don’t even feel a quarter of what i do for her

and you probably never will

the way that you all just took her word for her being fine and okay about the whole situation without actually genuinely checking in with her is insane and the way you all rushed to make sure jimin was ok was even crazier

i just

whatever

bye

—

as you can probably tell this was supposed to be released last month but i tried to adjust it as much as i could

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earthela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knilvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi @stellamalonesolaria @joonsprettygf

#happytimessoon >.<

[lustfulslxt]

could you write one where y/n and the triplets are at the beach and y/n is laying on her stomach tanning. chris is putting sunscreen on her back then starts to get all touchy feely and she feels him slip the bikini to the side and he fingers her secretively (she consents ofc) while the rest of them are in the water and when they get back to the air bnb he pulls her away from the group and is like “i feel like you owe me something hm?” PLSSS

Quid Pro Quo - Chris Sturniolo

warnings : smut.

—

Chris’ POV

It was a hot summer day; the sun was shining, the sky was clear. It was a perfect day to go to the beach, so that’s what we were doing. Nick, Matt, Nathan, Y/N, and I were all in our Airbnb, getting ready to head out.

I was sitting against the back of the couch, with Matt, waiting for the rest of them to finish. Personally, I don’t know what takes so long. Throw on your swimsuit and grab a towel.

“Jesus, what’s taking them so long?” Matt speaks, voicing my thoughts.

“I was just thinking that same thing.” I reply.

Just then, Nate comes walking out of the bathroom. His face was buried in his phone, so we knew why he was taking forever. When he looks up, he notices that it’s just me and Matt.

“Where’s everyone else?” He asks.

Before anyone could say anything, Y/N’s door opened and the last two emerged.

“About fucking time!” Matt exclaims with a huff. “There’s no reason we should be waiting on you guys for forty-five minutes. Like that’s absurd!”

“We’re just going to the beach.” I remind them, completely confused as to why it would take so long.

“Literally shut up, we’re ready now.” Nick says, rolling his eyes.

As my two brothers and Nate walked towards the door with their things, I noticed Y/N linger a little bit, so I did as well. She seemed to be off in her own little world, so I walked over and placed my arm on her shoulder.

“You straight?” I ask, watching as she looked up at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“What? Yeah, I’m good.” She says, confusion clear as day in her voice. “Are you?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’m cool. You’re the one that’s staring off into space.”

She slightly shakes her head with a smile on her lips as light laughter falls from her mouth, “My bad. I’m good though, let’s go.”

With that, she walked ahead, following the rest of them out the door. I stood there for a split second, watching her retreat. My eyes found themselves checking her out, admiring everything about her. She looked so good in her little jean shorts that were unbuttoned and folded over. I could see her

neon orange bikini showing beneath her shorts and through her white crop tee. She looked amazing, and I just wanted to get my hands on her.

Shaking my thoughts from my head, I followed in suit, and we all piled into the van. After connecting to aux, I queued a few songs and we were on our way.

-

“We should get something to eat when we leave.” Nate suggests as we all exit the car.

The rest of us agree in a multitude of hums and nods. We gather our bags that held sunscreen, snacks, drinks, towels, and spare clothes. Once we were all ready, we made our way onto the sand, searching for a good spot to chill.

Luckily, the beach was pretty clear of people, only having a few stragglers here and there. We chose a nice secluded area, setting our belongings out.

Y/N grabbed a large sheet from her bag and began sprawling it out. I grabbed a few things to put on the corners, keeping it in place. She sent me a grateful smile which I returned with ease.

“It’s so hot out here!” Nate groans.

“It’s summer, kid. There’s literally a vast ocean in front of your face.” Nick points out.

“Then let’s go!” Nate shouts, yanking off his t-shirt and removing his slides before running out to the water.

It only took a second for me, Matt, and Nick to do the same, following our friend. We all crashed into the water, our joyous laughter mixing together as we splashed around for a moment.

“Let’s see who can hold their breath the longest.” Matt grins, looking between the three of us.

“I’m down. Who’s judging?” Nate asks.

“Not it.” The three of them said in unison, leaving me to roll my eyes.

I shrugged, “Well. Are you gonna go, or what?”

“Okay, kid.” Nick rolls his eyes, “On three. One, two, three.”

They all submerged at the same time, leaving me at the surface. Immediately, my lips turn into a frown, and my eyes look back to shore. Y/N was laying out with our things, by herself. Not caring about their stupid game, I wade back out to the sand.

Once I’m fully emerged from the water, I hear Matt yelling out to me, “Chris! What the heck, you were supposed to judge!”

I just waved a dismissive hand and continued striding over to Y/N, determined to keep her company and spend time with her.

“Hey.” I greet, grabbing my towel and patting myself dry.

She looked up at me, holding her hand out above her eyes to block the sun. She had her eyes scrunched, trying to shield them from the brightness.

She looked so ridiculously good. Her perfect body in her perfect bikini. Her recently pedicured toes and manicured fingers, her beautiful hair flowing down her back, her flawless skin. She looked better than the sun.

“Hi.” She spoke, a smile on her face.

I return the smile, sitting myself next to her. She looked back out at the scene in front of her, taking in the beauty of nature and the sight of her friends making memories and having fun.

Taking in a slight breath, pulling my attention away from her, I reach for my bag to grab some sunscreen. I poured a little in my hands, then spread it over my face, rubbing it in. I repeated the same action to my arms and torso, applying it everywhere I would most likely get sunburnt.

“Here.” I say, handing the bottle to her. “Don’t wanna get burned, do you?”

She grins, accepting the bottle from me. I watched as she copied me, rubbing some onto her face.

She then turns to me and asks, “If I lay down to tan, do you think you could put some on my back?”

My dick practically jumped at that and I was immediately nodding my head and scooting closer to her. I grabbed the bottle as she laid down on her stomach, her head placed on her folded hands.

Once she was settled and I was sat on my knees next to her, I poured some of the sunscreen onto her back. I could see her slightly jump at the cold contact. Setting the bottle aside, I began to softly rub the liquid into her skin.

I couldn’t help the feeling of my dick slightly growing. It was completely unintentional, but I was unable to prevent it. Her skin was so soft and warm, shining perfectly under the bright sun. I could hear her sighing in content, enjoying the feeling.

My hands worked her shoulders and around her neck, firmly massaging them. My fingertips gently dug into her skin, rubbing in circular motions. As I moved lower, I could hear very quiet, almost inaudible, moans coming out of her mouth. The sound travelled straight to my dick, hardening it even more.

Adding more sunscreen to her lower back, I worked it into her skin. My fingers lightly dragged over the sides of her bikini bottoms, moving onto her legs. As I’m massaging her thighs, I hear another moan come from her, louder than before yet still quiet. Her body immediately tensed at the accidental slip.

“It’s okay.” I assure her, completely unbothered by it, in fact the opposite.

After a minute of rubbing her legs, I riskily moved my hands a bit higher, palming right beneath her ass. When I got no objections, I placed my hands on both of her cheeks.

“Is this okay?” I ask, meaning sure she wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest.

“Yes.” She quietly moaned out as I kneaded her ass.

Her soft grunts and moans encouraged me to keep squeezing her cheeks, gripping and rubbing them. My hands wrapped around each cheek perfectly, slightly spreading them, my fingers underneath her bottoms.

Her bikini bottoms were tightly pressed against her pussy from the positions of my hands. I could see her arousal peeking through at this point, and from that and her moans, I was so fucking hard.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” I whisper to her, my voice a bit raspy.

“Please.” She moans.

“Please what?” I question, a grin pulling to my lips.

“Touch me, please.” She begs, pushing her ass into my hands a little more.

I lick my lips, a groan escaping from me, thrilled at the thought of finally having her. I quickly look ahead, making sure our friends weren’t coming. They were still goofing off in the water, completely oblivious to us.

I can’t help but pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I slightly pulled her legs apart, just a little bit. My fingers meet right at her core, putting light pressure on her heat, causing her to whimper. My index finger hooks under the side of her bottoms and tug them to the opposite side, revealing her soaking wet pussy.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” I grunt.

Without being too noticeable, I lean over her ass, my face hovering a foot or two above. I pucker my lips, my tongue pushing saliva to the forefront of my mouth, letting it fall. It only took seconds, before it seeped into her folds and mixed with her juices.

I take my fingertips and run them back and forth between her slit, mixing it all up and coating my fingers. She was letting out small moans and I was eating it up, she sounded to heavenly.

I bring my the pad of middle and ring finger down to her clit, rubbing in full circles. I started slow, her moans becoming louder. When I picked up the pace, her moans were more frequent as well. I dragged my middle finger to her entrance, sliding right into her opening.

“Mm, fuck that - that feels so good.” She moans out, grinding into my hand.

I kept pumping my finger for a moment, before adding another, causing a lewd moan to ripple from her throat. Having her like this was turning me on beyond relief. I just wanted to sink my dick into her and have her moaning my name.

Sneaking another eye out to the sea, I made sure the other three were still occupied. Then, I take my other hand and trail it up her legs, squeezing tenderly. My hand roams her body a little bit before slightly reaching under her and rubbing her clit w my fingers.

She was so wet, my fingers were just gliding all over her. Her mouth hung up as her face scrunched up, several moans falling from her lips. I knew she was close. Her legs slightly trembled and her hand clutched at the sheet beneath us as she pushed her core back into me.

I started pumping and rubbing faster, the moans coming from her doing nothing but encouraging me. Her whole body began to shake and I could feel her clenching around my fingers.

“Oh my god.” She loudly moans out, twitching as she lets go and gives in to her orgasm.

My hand was covered in her cum as I continued working her through her climax. I was so unbelievably turned on, I just wanted to bury myself deep inside her. Once she came down from her high, I pulled my hands away from her and brought my fingers into my mouth, tasting her sweetness.

She was panting, trying to regain her breath. She turned her head towards me, a breathy laugh falling from her mouth as I gave her a smug smile.

“Did you enjoy that?” I ask, smirking at her.

“Did you?” She retorts, nodding her head towards my throbbing dick, begging to be released from its shackles.

I groan at her, pulling my towel to cover my crotch, “Not fair.”

She only laughed, tossing her arms up in defense as she sat up, causing me to laugh with her. Just then, the others came walking up to shore, joining us.

“We’re hungry.” Nate says, “We wanna go get food.”

“I haven’t even swam yet.” Y/N pouts.

“That’s your fault!” Matt exclaims, “You two have been out here, doing who knows what. You could’ve been out there having a blast with us.”

Me and her share a look, heat rushing to her cheeks at the thought of what we just did. I still couldn’t get my boner to go down.

“Pack it up. We’re going.” Nick states, drying off.

So we do. We gather our things and head back to the car, except Nate takes the front seat with Matt, and I sit in the very back with Y/N, Nick being between both pairs.

Throughout the drive, Y/N stayed right next to me, arm to arm. She lifts her hand and placed it on my leg, her head resting on my shoulder. My breath hitched at the movement of her hand, her fingertips pressing into me.

I just knew my dick would betray me any second, proving to her just how much I was feeling her. The way she smelled and how warm she felt against me, I was already at her mercy.

I could feel my dick twitch when her hand slid closer to it, wanting nothing more than for her to touch me. I shifted in my seat, readjusting myself. She placed her hand right on top of my dick that was now hard and throbbing under her touch.

I shoot her a warning look and she just innocently smiles at me, slightly palming me through my swim trunks.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, my voice a whisper.

“Hmm? Nothing.” She responds.

Her voice sounded so sweet and angelic, I wanted nothing more than her to moan out my name as she was wrapped perfectly around my dick, me sunken deep inside her.

My thoughts alone were enough to make me want to explode, but the way her hand palmed and stroked me, I was in shambles. My hips were jerking, wanting to feel more of her. My teeth were gnawing on my bottom lip, trying my hardest to keep my groans inside.

I quickly grabbed her hand and squeezed it, halting her movements because I was so close to nutting in my shorts. I dropped my head onto the headrest behind me and let out a breath. Her giggling next to me caused me to look over at her, and I was glad I did.

She looked so lovely. The smile on her face was wide, her pretty teeth on show. Her eyes were crinkled as she shook with beautiful laughter falling from her mouth. She was everything, and I just wanted to give it all to her.

“You’re insane.” I whisper, interlocking our hands.

“Only for you.” She responded, a cheeky grin on her face.

I wanted more of her touch, but I knew I would have to wait until we got back to the house.

-

We had already gotten our food and ate in the parking lot like we usually do. We were now pulling back up to the house, all eager to finally be back.

We exited the van, all gathering our things and making our way inside. Everyone parted and went to their respective rooms.

I put my things away and changed into some shorts, walking around my room for a little bit. I wanted to go into her room, but I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to. And I didn’t want anybody else to say shit. Sighing, I pulled out my phone to text her.

-come to my room?

-omw

It was that simple, and now, I couldn’t wipe the stupid smirk off my face. I don’t know what got into me, but ever since we left the house earlier, she’s been on my mind the entire time. Even more so after she begged me to touch her.

A few soft knocks sounded on the other side of my door, and it opened, Y/N peeking her head inside. I smiled at her, beckoning her over with a nod.

She looked so good, wearing a small tank top with little shorts. And the fact that I could see her nipples through her shirt was driving me wild.

When she walks over and stops in front of me, I reach behind her and pull her closer to me, my hand resting on her lower back. She stares up at me, an innocent look in her eyes that I just want to wreck.

My other hand trails up the side of her body, stopping at her jaw as I cupped her face. My thumb brushed her bottom lip, feeling her soft skin. She felt so hot under me, I loved it.

“I feel like you owe me something, no?” I say to her, my voice husky.

I watched as her eyes blew out, now nothing but pupils as her irises were completely unnoticeable.

“Lock the door.” She whispered to me.

I eagerly did so, quickly making my way back to her. She put her hands on my bare chest and softly pushed me back until my legs hit the bed.

She effortlessly dropped to her knees, keeping her hands at my waistline. She hooked her fingers in my shorts and tugged them down, leaving me in nothing but my boxers.

My boxers were a tent around my erection, my hunger for her evident. She reached up and wrapped her hand around my covered dick, her eyes never wavering from mine. Her hand firmly gripped me, pumping me over the fabric, I couldn’t help but buck my hips towards her.

She licked her lips and pulled down my boxers, discarding them with my shorts. My cock sprang up, practically staring her in the face. I wanted her mouth on me so bad, I was damn near fiending for it.

She wrapped her hand around me once again, this time skin to skin, and I couldn’t help but shudder. The anticipation was building and I so badly just wanted to fuck her throat.

She brought her lips to my head, dragging them along my shaft. I could feel my breath get caught in my throat as I watched her. She wrapped her lips around the tip, flicking her tongue over my slit and collecting my precum.

“Fuck.” I groan, my hands immediately going to her head and grabbing fistfuls of her hair.

Without warning, she took all of me into her saliva coated mouth, her nose hitting my pubic bone. I could feel my tip sliding down her throat, causing me to tighten my grip in her hair as I let out a low groan.

She pulled back and did it once more, her eyes locked onto mine. She began bobbing her head, sucking around me as she went. One of her hands went to play with my balls while the other one jerked what she couldn’t take in her mouth.

I was in pure bliss. She was making me feel better than I’d ever felt before. The way she sucked harder around my sensitive tip, seeing how I reacted to it. The moans were pouring from my lips left and right.

I felt myself getting close to finishing when she pulled away, leaving me whimpering at the loss of contact. She continued jerking me, squeezing and twisting around my tip, and licked my slit with a flattened tongue when more precum emerged.

I almost came at the sight of her, a loud groan coming out of me. I placed my hand under her jaw, pulling her up to her feet. Only giving her a quick glance, my lips were on hers.

I kissed her hard and deep, shoving my tongue into her mouth and exploring the inside of it. She moaned into the kiss, her hands finding my hair and tugging it.

I pulled away, slightly out of breath, and placed my forehead on hers. “Mm, can I fuck you?”

She put her lips on mine, resuming our kiss. I felt her nodding, but I pushed her back a little, looking at her expectantly.

“Please.” She whined, “Please fuck me.”

I turned us around, then quickly removed her top, leaving her torso bare. Her nipples were hard and I couldn’t help but pinch them, causing her to let out a soft moan.

I pushed her back onto the bed and leaned over her, my mouth meeting hers again. Our tongues colliding, teeth clashing. My hands slipped into her bottoms, tugging her shorts and her panties down, and pulling them down her legs and off her feet.

Her pussy was glistening with her arousal, and I just wanted to devour her. I sat on my knees, situating myself in between her legs. I brought my hand forward, teasing her folds with soft feather like touches.

She moaned out, thrusting her hips into my hand to create more friction. I chuckled at her desperation, and hovered back over her.

My hand enveloped her neck, gently squeezing as I planted a kiss onto her lips. My mouth trailed from hers, down her jaw, and onto her neck, leaving wet kisses in my wake.

Enough with prolonging it, I sat back up and lined myself with her entrance. Looking into her eyes, I sink myself into her. She reaches down and intertwines her hands with mine as I bottom out, low moans leaving both of our mouths.

I slowly start to rock in and out of her, loving every sound that she was letting out. Her grip on my hands tightened as I thrusted faster.

“You feel so fucking good around me.” I moaned, hitting even harder.

Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head as her face contorted in pleasure. I swiftly grabbed her legs, lifting them high and letting them rest on my shoulders, before drilling back into her.

“Oh fuck!” She yelps, a string of moans following. “Yes, right there.”

My thrusts were fast and hard, burying my dick deep within her. The sultry moans she was giving me was driving me crazy, I wanted all of her forever.

I leaned forward to quickly kiss her, missing the feeling of her lips on mine. She was soaking wet and I could feel her juices dripping down my balls as she clenched around me. We were both so close, I could see it in the way she was a moaning and quivering mess beneath me.

“You fill me up so well.” She moans, her hands dragging down my back. “I’m about to cum.”

I continued fucking into her at the same pace, knowing she would be falling over the edge soon. And she did.

Her legs violently shook as she arched her back, loud pornographic moans coming out of her mouth. She was trembling as she let go, cumming all over my dick.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. I’m so close.” I tell her, watching her face as she climaxes.

She opened her eyes and smiled at me, before biting her lip, “Cum on my face.”

My eyes widened and I almost nutted right then and there, but I pulled out. She slid down as I came above her, positioned right over her face. My hand grasps my dick and it only took a few jerks before my stomach tightened and I shot my load out.

Her tongue was out, spurts of white nut landing all over it and the rest of her face. She looked so fucking hot, being a good little slut for me.

After both of us came down, I crashed beside her. I took in a few breaths before quickly going to my conjoined bathroom and wetting a washcloth with warm water. I went back over to the bed and kneeled next to her, softly cleaning her face as she looked up at me.

Once her face was clear again, I leaned forward and planted a few kisses on her lips. Folding the towel, I brought it between her legs and cleaned her own juices up. I then go to the bathroom and wiped myself up and discarded the towels.

Back in the room, I put my boxers back on and pull out a shirt from my closet, then hand it to her as she puts her panties back on.

“Will you stay?” I ask her, hopeful. “Will you stay and cuddle with me?”

She smiled, “I’d love that.”

I return the smile and climb into bed with her. We both get under the covers and I pull her into my embrace, planting a soft kiss on her head. She lays her head on my chest and wraps her arms around me as I put mine around her.

It didn’t take long for sleep to overcome us, as we were both feeling content and spent.

—

a/n : here you go bby, hope you enjoy it!! send in more reqs 🫶🏼

[buttsmasher]

Game Over [Repost]

Warnings: Face Farting, Fart Torture, Asphyxiation by Farting

You’re playing the most recent CoD, playing against some asshole who was talking shit in the lobby. He kept talking shit about your K-D and that you should think twice about going against him. You, of course, challenge him to a 1 v 1 and he immediately accepts. As you guys are in the lobby ButtB0mbs96, your challenger, gives you another warning. “If you lose you’re really not going to like what happens.” He laughs like an asshole, but you ignore him and ready-up for the match.

Both of you are scoring against each other, and for a few moments you actually had the lead. However, in the last minute of the game,ButtB0mbs96 takes the lead and ends up scoring the last point. “Welp, I guess that settles that.” He jokes and you ignore him taking off your headset to yell at the TV.

As you’re yelling your screen goes completely white and the glow seems to expand into your bedroom. You close your eyes as it’s way too bright, but then you feel wind against your skin. As you open your eyes, you find that the world you were just playing in is all around you. You spin around confused, slightly dazed, and try to get your bearings.

“What the fuck.” You quietly mumble to yourself. You decide to head towards one of the buildings and walk inside. The large apartment building looks exactly the same as your video game. You decide to enter one of the apartments, and no surprise it’s identical. The only thing missing is the crate that would have weapons and cash.

You swear you hear footsteps behind you, so you quickly turn around. Nothing. You lightly walk towards the door.

“Where you going?” You turn back around to see a man standing with his arms crossed.

“How did you-?” You turn around again and look back at him. “Where am I?”

“You don’t recognize this place?” He takes a step closer. “It’s the place where I kicked your ass.” Wait, does that mean he’s ButtB0mbs96?

“How did I get here?”

“I said you wouldn’t like what happened if you lost.” The door behind you slams shut. You jump but before you can turn to look, you’re on your knees tied up.

“MFHFH HFE MACK.” Your mouth is covered as well.

“Welcome to my world. Your hell.” Somehow the man’s clothes disappeared, and you realize that you’re just in a pair of boxer briefs. Behind him there is a crowd of people watching, they too are tied up and gagged. He walks around a few times before stopping. “Let’s skip the foreplay.”

He walks up to you and grabs your hair as moves your face right into his boxer clad ass. Before your nose goes against his pucker you see the words “Game Over” in big bold letters. “Here’s the rules, if you survive my butt bombs, then you can go home.”

PFFFFFBRBRBRBTTTT

The first fart warms your face and you try to pull away. His hold on you is too tight and you unfortunately are held tightly against his ass. The smell is ungodly, and you try holding your breath. “But if you don’t, then,” PFFFFTTT “you’re mine forever.”

PFFFBRBR PFFFFT PFFFFFFTT

Fart after fart hit your face, and eventually you have to take a deep breath in. The smell is worse, pure sewage smelling, and you start to cough. The man above you just pulls your face harder against his ass.

PFFFFFTTT PFFFFFTTT

You unintentionally inhale in the same moment he releases the two farts. Now there’s this terrible taste in the back of your throat.

“How you holding up back there?” You cough in response attempting to get the taste out of your mouth. “If you think those are bad, you should taste this.”

PFFFBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRFFFF

This massive wet fart erupts from his butt. You are glad that he’s wearing boxers right now, but your eyes roll to the back of your head as the fumes hit your nose. It’s just shit, that’s all you can smell. Your breathing is getting hard and you need fresh air.

“Bet that smelled nice didn’t it.” He makes his point by using your nose to wipe up and down his clothed ass. “You’re still awake right.”

PFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT PFFFFFTT PFFFFFFFFT

“I hope so, otherwise you’d be missing these perfect butt bombs.”

PFFFFTTTT

You feel yourself starting to drift, but you hold on. There’s no way you’re going to let this asshole beat you. That is, until he pulls his dirty boxers down and sticks your nose straight into his unwashed hole.

“Let’s see if you can make it past round two.” He holds the back of your head tight and he releases an ungodly fart.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFRFFFTTTT

You hear him sigh in relief above you and you struggle to not vomit. You quickly realize that you’re not going to make it with his naked ass against your nose and try fighting against your binds.

“You’re just going to make yourself pass out faster.” PFFFFTTTTT “But keep going, it means you’ll be stuck here forever.” You ignore his words, even though you know he’s probably right. But the smell of his rancid ass is not helping you come up with any escape plans.

PFFFFFFFFBRBRBRFFFFFFFFFT

PFFFFFTT

Panic starts to set in. Your eyes water from the lack of oxygen.

PFFFFFFFFBRBRBRBRRRRRTFTTTTTT

PFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT

You’re stuck, there’s no escape. You’re going to be here forever.

PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTT

Your vision starts to go black. Everything is telling you to stay awake, but your body can’t take it anymore. You feel yourself start to go limp.

“Awww is that it? You didn’t even make it to the main boss fight.” You want to scream fuck you. You want to punch him. But your vision goes out.

PFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT PFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT

You lose consciousness to ButtB0mbs96’s assault. At the same time you lose your freedom. Your only life now is under ButtB0mbs96, sniffing his rancid, musky, disgusting ass.

It truly is Game Over.

[mithliya]

In regards to ppl jumping down your throat about that post (TM). 1) you're right. But 2) Like... I can see how discussing participating in sex acts with a trans woman is no different from having them with any other male is something that has merit.... But thats not RADICAL FEMINIST content. Like, is it gender critical content? Probably? Thats where it fits better. It would be more appropriate to tag it as such. But radical feminism isnt JUST gender criticality!!! Like, being gender critical is a part of radical feminism but They! Are! Not! The! Same! Thing!

And yeah, people instantly assuming that you asking "how is talking about giving a male person oral sex so explicitly (and in a way that would immediately alienate a lesbian reader... who the post is supposedly for????) is in any way relevant to radical feminism?" Meant that you were saying "female heterosexuality is unsightly and i dont want to see it and also het women need to shut up forever".

(And also the comparison of lesbians being like... I dont want posts about sucking dick to abound in the radfem tag is in ANY WAY AT ALL similar to homophobic people not wanting to see women kiss.... Like???? Thanks for being so bald-faced about your homophobia. Its not the same actually but its interesting to see that you think a minority asking an innocuous question is the same as oppression)

Dear. God. Some people on this site just fucking love to assume the worst from you and needlessly attack you about it. They bring all their lesbophobic assumptions into ANY discussion that you happen to have.

I'll tell you what a rational response could have been to the question you posed. "I think this is relevant based on gender critical beliefs that radfems hold and i wanted to share my experience with that audience"

That doesnt mean that anyone has to agree about whether or not it was a relevant post for a FEMINIST TAG based on FEMINIST CONTENT. But the way ppl responded to you was ABSOLUTELY DERANGED. Words in your mouth. Baseless assumptions. Critique based on things you didnt say. Like..... ????? HUH???

If ppl were normal the convo could have ended with you saying "actually i dont think this is relevant to radical feminist analysis. I think you should have used a different tag for this". Instead you had to have paragraphs long responses where you had to pick apart the lesbophobic rhetoric that is being tossed your way and defend yourself FOR LICHERALLY JUST ASKING A QUESTION.

You didnt even ask an inflammatory question! You didnt even ask it with intent to attack the original OP.

Not only is gender critical and radfem tumblr just.... Fucking radioactive with lesbophobia, but people *specifically* attack you with SO MUCH hostility and treat everything you say with so much bad faith. Like???? Its fucking exhausting to just read, i cannot imagine how fucking irritating it must be to experience it constantly. I wonder if perhaps... Hmmm.. there might be a specific form of oppression you face that might make you more likely to face these attacks.... Hmmm... i think it starts with "race" and ends with "ism". I have not seen white lesbians with similar politics to you facing the same backlash on EVERYTHING they say.

And accusing you of faking anons???????? HUH????? Yeah no, you -- a blog with thousands of followers who regularly gets anons -- MUST OBVIOUSLY have to send urself messages to show ppl agree with you and your opinions 🙄 maddening.

u said it all perfectly anon 😭 and yeah funnily enough it’s very clear people treat me differently, like even if ppl want to argue i’m an obnoxious drama queen or whatever, women who are that & worse still don’t get treated the same way. but if i point out maybe there’s some sort of prejudice underlying ppl treating me differently then i get mocked and belittled further 🤭 oh well. that whole interaction was just insane bc she straight up just lashed out at me & put a bunch of words in my mouth simply bc she saw that i’m a lesbian. funnily enough these things happen even when i word things in the mildest least confrontational way possible so i don’t even know what to do to to get ppl to chill out

[kim-ruzek]

I hate that Kevin is still in the same that he was in when we met him. The writers have done nothing for him, and they should actually be so ashamed, as well as the people who defend it.

They only use Kevin for crappy performative storylines which never go anywhere or when they want him to interact with Burzek and Makayla. And yes, when it is a police show, and the lead police officer is Hank Voight, with people like Ruzek (I think Adam has somewhat improved, but it was just in season 8 where he went off at Kevin when Kim was missing where he told Kevin to put aside all that crap when referring to racism and take a day off from being a proud reformist. He also threw the first punch. There is no justification for the way Adam acted).

The treatment of Kevin in terms of what he does and, usually, doesn't get is something I feel SOOO passionate about and I'll always get on my soap box to talk about the injustice.

But saying that, I do think it's a little unfair to say the writers haven't done anything for him - they haven't done much and honestly it's under the bare minimum in a lot of ways and I'll never deny how fucked up that is, but they did give him his building and showed us how he was being a force for good in his neighbourhood. Which, especially as i rewatched season one recently and he always had that entrepreneur streak to him, I do think is one of the best plot points they could've given him, imo. That, and his father's storyline because I truly do adore that storyline.

The problem is that now going into eleven years of plot lines and a very recent plot point is the only thing I can talk about positively without any disclaimers or annoyances is just so very wrong. Because really, it does feel like often we've barely seen him have ANY character growth. Which in one way isn't neccesarily bad because he's always, from the very start, been a Good character. Raised his siblings, had aspirations, a good friend and a hard working cop, so he didn't have any 'bad' traits to grow out of. But there's still ways to give characters development (for example, his building) and in these ten years, that has been extremely lacking.

And I will forever be mad about that the only plot points for character development has been race based and not even most of the time in a good, non performative way so I'm with you on that.

But finally, I will say I did LOVE Kevin and his treatment in season ten. He got multiple episodes, we got to see more of him just being him, we actually got to see him in burzek's stories which as their best friend he should be and he felt like, for the first time imo in a very long time, a multi dimensional character who wasn't just there to be black.

Obviously one good season doesn't erase all the injustices been dealt to him, or even remotely balanced the scales and the season still had it's deeply problematic aspects that I will never shut up about (i.e. Kev being the one to shoot the racist bastard) but it does make me optimistic that we're heading towards a time where Kevin will be treated more as a multi-faceted character, ESPECIALLY as this season will be Tracy's last.

I'm just hoping we'll continue to get more fleshed out aspects of his life, beyond the building, his siblings and father. And more stuff that could have been formed for anyone, white or black, because Kev is also just a human and not just a black human.

Also voight can go fuck himself, my feelings for the character may be complicated, but that's one thing I will always feel.

Thank you for sending me this ask!!

[lakesbian]

ok actually? what r ur thoughts on simon..... 👀 (new follower who hasnt heard the good word)

HI yippee thank you i got to soapbox. all of my followers should send me asks soapboxing about things or asking me to soapbox all of the time forever. when i say i'm mean about simon i mainly mean that i enjoy telling people who pull Shitty White Man Favoritism to shut the fuck up. if i'm gonna turn that into analysis, i.e explain Why they need to shut the fuck up, it goes something like this:

disturbing amounts of people demonstrate shameless racism and/or misogyny in portraying simon as a victim who was manipulated into doing bad things by grace, and those people need to go to jail, and then hell, and then jail in hell!

simon and grace are narrative foils. they were put in the same shitty scenario together, they misunderstood aspects of that scenario in the same fundamentally dangerous way that led to them doing the same very bad things to other people together, and then they were both given the same opportunities to change and grow. the difference? grace chose to take the opportunities. simon chose not to. as in, it's his damn fault. he didn't stumble into it! the tragedy was manmade!

season three is a story about two people who lived the same life together for years, and who loved and trusted each other very much, being thrust into a scenario which starts pointing out the ways they're different. their life changes, and that change strips them down to their cores, until they're both staring at the reality of their own and each others deepest selves. and despite all those years they spent as a perfect team, they realize that, very deep down, they're fundamentally opposites.

because grace is a person who chooses to change. and simon is a person who chooses not to.

simon chooses to hurt people. simon chooses to ignore evidence that his beliefs are wrong. simon chooses to regress into denial. simon chooses to hurt tuba, hazel, and grace. simon chooses to prioritize how he thinks grace should be over how she actually is. simon chooses to be a bad person who does bad things. and it's the choices he makes that tear his own fucking heart apart. the fact that driving his own life to ruin upsets him doesn't make him less culpable for it. it just means that the infinity train writers are very good at creating characters who feel like real people.

[sapphirecherry]

as promised, here is everything i thought while watching the spn pilot drunk:

(edited for clarity and also bc my phone couldn't understand my accent)

oh my jesus small sam and dean

oh my god mary

the blood dripping. the symbolism. oh my god.

"take your brother and go" what if i go feral? what if i go insane? how about that john winchester?

i should definitely not be watching this i'm going to have a stroke. i'm so not normal about these brothers, in fact i'm very much abnormal

oh my god, the original title screen...

i’m so in love with jared padalecki, it’s not even funny

dean

oh no this is way too fast for me

"dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days" *screams*

both right, don’t care. dean is right in that you have to hunt things and save people and sammy is right in that their mother wouldn’t wouldn’t have wanted this for them

i’m gonna throw up for real

"what was he hunting?" that’s my boy sam!

you know i think i’m starting to sober up. this is not good, but it’s also good, but not (i was not in fact sobering up)

how fucking long does it take to complete this pre-law degree for fucks sake

oh my god, the iconic curved sam blade

they're going to jericho california motherfucker

dumb motherfucker

"i can never go home" AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

oh my god what’s going on?

"for one, they're cassette tapes"

"shotgun shuts his cakehole"

dad’s not dead yet idiots

i’m sorry, no one’s believing you're any kind of federal agent whatsoever

dean slapping the back of sam's head you're so iconic

this whole thing seems so rushed, but i have no idea if it’s because i'm very much under the influence or if it’s actually just kind of shit pacing

hey, let the stanford lawboy do the talking okay, he knows what he’s doing

why can't this text to speech thing, not understand my accent. homophobic.

yay dean gets covered in mud

OMG sam

hate to say it sammy, but dean is correct

sam's kind of real, for that

their voices are so high-pitched

"you smell like a toilet"

sam and his lock picking skills and his dean yanking skills, you will always be famous

fucking woman in white

"no chick flick moments"

"jerk" "bitch"

my teeth feel fuzzy

oh my god, he’s such a slut

did you just say my boobs???

get fucked, get your fucking father’s journal shoved up your arse

coordinates jackass

so excited for the sam bangs™️ to make an appearance. love the curtain bangs, but the bang bangs? forever famous

are you kidding? of course he’s never heard of it.

tragic

ha ha dean winchester 1, police 0

sammy you’re about to get your shit rocked

oh fuck

hey you bitch, get your hands off my husband! my wife!

oh my god, he’s so excited driving straight to the house. i love him please marry me sam winchester

how the fuck has it been 37 minutes already

woman in white you’re so famous, how does it feel to have set up the entire omegaverse?

obsessed with the fact that the winchester brothers look normal sized basically this entire episode because they never stand next to someone that’s actually normal sized

dean so real for that

why is there only one headlight working

no! jess! jessica! love of my life!

what i would give to live with stanford era sam winchester in a small little dorm room

oops, there goes all of his clothes and earthly possessions

he was going to propose!!!!

azazel kill yourself. shoot yourself point-blank between the eyes

"we got work to do"

[cookeoli]

Alright, okay.. I hear you. Maybe let’s not? You know, being a bit judgemental of myself never hurts. I still argue it helps me give my best performance at times. Ooooh that is pure evil. I like it. I might just take after that. Might be even more effective if we both do it, don’t you think? People who talk to us about it will think they’ve royally fucked up. Do it even better by serving a very confused look, walk away whilst saying “Excuse me.. I have to make some phone calls”. God I might actually be evil for real but is it bad I would just love seeing the faces people would pull? Yeah no I know, I’ve done a couple of interviews with him and he is just awful. Me and Phia had to sit him down at one point and thoroughly explain that he could not speak of this, nor that. Just proves even more that half of his brain is constantly asleep. I do not envy Matt who had to do far more promo things with him than I did. The anxiety of sitting next to him and not knowing what he’s about to blabber on about, is not for the faint of heart. You know what? That’s not a bad idea actually. The producers should just hand us all notes with the key parts of every episode so we know what happens. We can’t be expected to remember every episode. This is something to take up with the crew. Like we don’t need all the details. But just a short summary to freshen up our memories. I mean with the amount of times we’ve seen the first two episodes now, I think I may know them like the back of my hand. But the rest? Completely blank. Just a white paper with nothing on it. I can’t remember shit. Well I can.. But not what goes in which episode and all that you know? Nah I wouldn’t hope you would actually let me camp out on the street. I would do it. But I much prefer the inside, can’t lie. Ah you are an angel, I know it. Thank you for not letting me die, I appreciate it tons. Fear not, I shall come bearing an Alicent one and we can sort out a trade of sorts. Can’t have Rhaenyra being on her lonesome without her bestie. Nah, you think we would? The occasional disagreement because of lack of sleep or something. But know when it’s time to shut up and leave the other one to be, don’t you think? Do I have more faith in this than you do, is that what we’re establishing here? No way you are actually the one who’s telling me to have less coffee? You drink far more than I do. Hey shush now. Jittery Olivia is your favorite. Okay maybe not. But you like her, I know you do. I am making progress now that I’ve started drinking caffeine free tea in the evenings at least. I just have a lot of energy, sometimes. You should be thankful you get to witness those moments cause you also get to witness the not very awake version of me a lot of the time.

No I know babes. You know my favorite moments are the ones I get to spend with you. I adore the entire family we have. But I am forever grateful whenever we are paired together to do anything and I will be eternally grateful that this project has pulled us together. Undoubtedly we would’ve found each other in one way or another either way, I really do believe so. You know I’m still freaked out about this whole thing just as much as you and many times I think you play it far cooler than I am able to. I mean, it would be difficult to find someone more down to earth than yourself. Oh I still enjoy it very much, can’t deny that. But I enjoy it more when the bartender doesn’t give me that knowing look, you know? But thank fuck we’ve still got beers and martini’s too huh? Yeah and also just cause he’s so fucking cool? Like we can’t tell him that but he’s like, cooler than the lot of us. It’s nice whenever one gets to be around him cause he takes over just the right amount. Gives you a breather. He’s also just fantastic at reading a room and reading your vibe. Like he gets it. But oh god, he can never know we praised him this much or we’ll never live it down. Yeah in that sense you’re right, the worst part is over. At least it’s on going now and the world will know and see more and more of it and the more our shoulders can start to sink. Yeah no a massive relief indeed. I don’t know how many more interviews I could get through on such little sleep. I mean once again I’ve been going viral they say over laughing at the most monstrous things. Thank fuck I’ve had almost the entire week to just sleep. I know, it’s strange isn’t it? Still feels strange. At least it made the moments we did get to share all the more special. Or something like that to make it seem less negative. At least you got to see Matt more than me that is. You know we do. We always find a way, a reason. Not that we ever need an actual reason to hangout. Only one more week until your play is over and you’re mine for the entire summer. In an ideal world where we both have the entire summer off that is.

Least judgemental person when it comes to other people? Absolutely. Least judgemental person when it comes to yourself? Perhaps not. My new tactic is to simply act surprised every time somebody mentions the show getting renewed. I'm like 'oh really? That's wonderful' and then the other person feels incredibly awkward about having broken the news to me and panics a little bit that they've just told me I've been fired or something. Fabien is awful, much more awful than me, Matt has consistently said how he's dropping accidental spoilers. We are all a mess and it's even more complicated now that the season is out. My brain is a mess at the best of times but now I have to remember what happened in each episode and what I can and can't say to people, it's so much worse. Somebody tried to talk to me about episode one yesterday and I almost went into what happens after Helaena burst in on you because I forgot the show ended at that point. I need to carry a detailed notebook around with a synopsis of each one to refer back to. Camping out for me? I can't bear the thought. I'd have to let you inside, especially as these nights come with such a chill. I can't have you catching your death on my watch. You'll have to come and raid my cupboard of Funko's. I'm pretty sure I have one for every outfit I've ever worn on the show, and some I don't even remember. Sadly, nobody has gifted me an Alicent, so my little Rhaenyra's are extremely lonely and sick of just looking at themselves. Pretty much how I feel on a daily basis — so I would welcome you moving in to give me something else to focus on. I'm unsure how long we'd last before driving each other around the bend though. I'm going to give you some advice, it's up to you if you take it or not — maybe don't have so much coffee? You may be less jittery and actually get some rest. Not that I don't love jittery Olivia, but I am quite concerned about your constant state of energy and awakeness. I know you do and I'm forever grateful at your support for everything I say and do. I still find this whole process and the invasiveness of it all quite daunting but it's a lot easier when we're in it together. Don't get me wrong, I love the others and it would have been great to do some more press with Matt, but our characters are so deeply entwined with each other and I feel that's bled through into our real lives. You are as much a part of me and my experience as Alicent is to Rhaenyra and I'll always be thankful. The negroni sbagliato thing has a whole life of it's own, so much so that I can't drink it anymore. I have to make a point of having something else so we can all move on from it and leave it in the past. Please never ask me what my drink of choice is ever again, for the sake of both of our sanities. I guess it's perhaps because Matt is used to all of this madness with Doctor Who? Their fans are just as passionate, if not more, so he's been in this bubble before and knows what he's doing. He's also one of the most charismatic men I've ever met and thrives on interaction with people, whereas I am much more the opposite and like to not see too many people or say too many words. I had hoped it would calm down a little and to be honest, I don't feel as suffocated as I did on the lead up to it. At least I can be a little more free with what i say and each week, it'll get better. The main bulk of the press is over though and that's always a relief, don't you find? I long for the days where we all were on the same set together. I not only lost you, but I lost Matt too this season and it made me really feel like I took those early shooting days for granted. I just spent all my time wanting to get the band back together....somewhere other than the car park. Now we're not going to be having all this promo time together, we'll have to find another place to meet up for catch ups.

[sluttywonwoo]

study buddies || k.mg x reader

Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader 

Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu

Masterlist

You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.

His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”

You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.

“Was I drunk?”

“Probably.”

“So why are you here?”

“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”

“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”

“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.

“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”

“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.

“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”

You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.

You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?

As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.

That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.

“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.

“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”

You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.

“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”

“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.

You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.

“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”

“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”

“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”

You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.

“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.

You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.

“You know you could be working on math.”

You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”

He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.

“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.

“Why?”

“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.

“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.

He shook his head. “After.”

You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.

“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.

You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.

“Can you please stop that?”

“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.

“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”

“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.

“Very funny.”

“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”

“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”

“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”

“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.

“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.

When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.

“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.

“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.

He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”

You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”

Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”

“That confident are you?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!

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[sukirichi]

true gift

A god like Naoya is about to see how his little mortal is hiding a true gift.

REQUEST.  deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink

CONTENT/WARNINGS. virginity loss, naoya isn’t nice, mentions of blood,  murder, abduction, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, creampie, orgasm denial, mentions of slavery, face fucking, reader is willingly consenting to pain, reader is a masochist, naoya is a sadist 

NOTES. ah...it feels so natural to write naoya...also can someone send me some good erotic hentai panels, yay <3

Today is the day – the one you’ve been prepared for ever since you’ve forced to make acquaintance with the blinding darkness and smell of rust.

What time is it? Is it morning, night...maybe somewhere in the middle?

There’s no telling, not when you’ve been staring at the pitch black darkness for what seems like forever. It’s been too long, so long, that you’ve forgotten what the world looks like. It’s like one day you’re helping your family tend to the farms when rough hands grabbed at you, and you’re shoved in a cold, dark cellar before you could even say good bye.

Oddly enough, the servants – or at least that’s what you assume they are, since they’ve been nothing but tight lipped and inherently obedient to a faceless figure – have taken extreme care of you.

Twice a day, they’d open the cellar, the sound of keys rustling and nearly muted footsteps like music into your ears. The slight sliver of light passing through from the outside is immediately concealed within a split second, a black smooth material wrapped around your eyes before they strip you off. Normally, you’d complain and fight back, but you’ve lost all the will to even defend yourself at this point.

You’ve given up a long time ago, and life’s been a lot more tolerable ever since.

Today isn’t any different. Maybe it was hours ago, two servants had came in to wash away the grime and dirt from your body before you felt something combing through your hair. Then, you felt it. A smooth, cold blade running up and down every inch of your body, rendering you immobile in fear even breathing could cut you open.

It didn’t. If anything, you felt a lot smoother, lighter, and freer.

“Is she bare?” an old, croaky feminine voice echoed in the small room, equally wrinkled hands removing the strap of your bra off before she lathers a rose-scented cream all over your body. “Naoya-sama prefers his slaves hair-free, you know that. Not even stubble is allowed, do you understand? Keep shaving her until she’s spotless.”

Naoya-sama.

So that’s where you were. It all made sense now.

For as long as you could remember, that name’s been spoken with terror, the slight tremble of voices and darkened eyes pooled with fear never absent in the presence of his name. You’ve never seen him, but you know enough to understand that he’s a prominent figure especially in your little village. He’s not human, but he’s not exactly a god either – at least, not one that people would willingly worship.

You’ve heard telltales on how his beauty alone had women dropping to their feet, the malice in those eyes of his enough to make even the strongest warriors stick to his side in fear of what he’s capable of.

He’s as old as time and as strong as the steady flow of the river you and your people have always bathed in. It doesn’t make sense that someone as fearsome as he was is living at the mountains where nothing but quiet, peaceful people rejoiced, but the more you think about it, of course he’d prefer his people submissive, heads always ducked in fear and shaking in terror.

This whole time, you thought you’d been sold off to a neighbouring clan head because your clan didn’t have enough funds to pay for the latest trade.

In a way, you’d feel a lot luckier if the former had happened instead, because there’s really no proper way of making sound of the fact you’re sacrificed to your own deity, Naoya Zen’in, after not completing your offerings to him for ten whole moons.

It’s bad, horribly so, and you should be shaking, should be crying, should be wishing for death instead, so then why are you deferential? You don’t complain when two rough hands pull you from the ground and keep your arms tight in shackles at your lower back, vision still obscured by this cloth as you’re guided somewhere – someplace that all the sacrificed women for your deity are received.

Your feet are sloppy and smacking against the hardwood floor, heart pulsing in your tongue for all the wrong reasons. Faintly, you can smell a rose-scented candle and water splashing, but it doesn’t register until you’re immersed under it.

You gasp, hair flattening onto your skin while you look around blindly, struggling to clutch onto something as your feet keep slipping into the tub.

You’ve never been into a tub before; much less recognize the soft, paper-like objects floating into the water with you. Head swaying side to side until water is sprayed everywhere, a firm hand keeps your head in place just as a pumice stone is scrubbed into your skin. It’s not painful, but the rough scraping sensation feels sensitive from your skin that hasn’t been exposed to normal, breathing air for who knows how long.

“Stop moving,” that same elderly voice commanded, and her assistants, most likely, move quickly into extending your limbs until you’re sprawled out everywhere. “We are to make you perfect, presentable, lavishing in front of our deity himself.”

“B-but —”

“You have no right to speak!” You’re left stunned as your cheek bruises red, lips wet from the water as you pant. The sting on your skin becomes more pronounced, but you dare not speak, opting to keep your lips shut instead. The elderly woman takes notice of your behaviour, humming before she makes you stand up, that same blade swiping down your exposed regions. “You learn fast and submit well. I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.”

“She is gorgeous too, my Lady.”

“She should be,” comes a retort, your jaw clenched as you keep still. She forces your legs further apart until you’re embarrassingly exposed, the rose petals in the water sticking into some corners of your skin. “If she was not, she’d be dead already. It’s her pretty face that’s keeping her alive at this point.”

Everything is a blur after that.

One moment, they’re shaving you, the next you’re thrown from one body to another. They perform all sorts of things – towel drying your hair, exfoliating your skin, plucking your eyebrows to perfection before applying a shimmer to your cheeks and something sticky and glossy to your lips, then finally you feel the warmth of silk robes you could never afford even if you work yourself to death caressing your body.

After that, you’re locked inside a much bigger room, the blindfold falling off your face slowly.

You blink in surprise.

The room isn’t that dark, but dim enough, and your heart beats louder in your chest when you see the size of the room. It’s ten times bigger than your village meeting point, a large tatami bed sat in the middle. From one side, a window is open, allowing you to see the white illumination of the moonlight that looks hauntingly romantic.

Candles are lit on either sides of the room, and your gaze lands on odd whip-like weapons placed proudly on the walls.

Your legs are wobbly as you stand, life just coming back into your unused muscles. Making your way towards it, you reach out to touch this...weapon that’s still somewhat coated with the stench of blood. It’s immaculately clean and the leather is shiny, though it’s clear this has been used for far more gruesome situations before.

I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.

You recoil your hand that’s a breath away from coming into contact with it, terror plaguing deep into your bones as you take a step back.

You’re a sacrifice, an offering, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice – you’re brought here to die, and your god would kill you himself. Others may have considered it an honour to have died from the mercy of his hands, your oh-so divine lord who’s brought prosperity and wealth into your land, but you turn away, breathing hard as you make a break for the door.

But you never made it.

Your back lands into someone’s chest, a slight gasp falling from your lips before you’re pummelled into the ground, strong hands pinning your arms above your head. Eyes widening, you come face to face with your deity, his fox-eyes lined with dark kohl sharpening his already predatory features, ears pierced with tiny skulls and black dots.

His knee nudges your leg open and you groan, the sound making his eyes dart at you in warning before he smirks upon seeing you make no move to get away from him.

“As I’ve heard,” his deep voice cuts through the eerie silence of the room, the night so mute not even birds or insects cricketed at the presence of your deity’s need to have you for himself. “You are a compliant little lamb sent to the slaughter,” you shiver as his fingers run to caress the side of your face, his free hand undoing the knots that keeps your modesty. Naoya hums deep in his throat when the cloth falls to the sides, revealing perky nipples that pushed closer and closer to his awaiting lips at each heavy breath you took.

“You are stunning,” he praises, using a thumb to graze over the hardened bud. It’s barely a touch, but you’re sensitive, wholly new to this that you whimper. The sound is humiliating and utterly pathetic, your teeth coming down to capture your lips.

This displeases him entirely and Naoya taps your lips open, glaring at your wide, fearful yet aroused gaze. “You do not ever conceal such shameful sounds when I’m above you, do you understand?” You nod shakily, freeing your lip from its confines. Naoya snickers, chest puffing up with pleasure before he leans back to his calves, pushing the rest of your robe to the side until you’re completely exposed to him.

Your breathing grows more laboured when Naoya spreads your legs open, smirking as you whimper at the stretch of having your knees flattened by your sides. Legs placed on top of his knees, your elevated posture gives him more access to your bare pussy, his gaze zeroing in on the gleaming arousal that’s beginning to form on your lips.

“So fucking wet,” he comments, using both his thumbs to pry your pussy apart. You moan at the sensation of him pressing down on a part of you that you don’t know existed, and Naoya laughs, the sound sinister yet erotic. “You’re a virgin.”

It’s not a question – it’s a statement he takes pride in, especially because he knows he’s the chosen one to take something precious away from you.

“I’ve always loved virgins,” Naoya’s hands roam all across your body, slowly, sensually, passionately, the rough, calloused hands running under your legs to hitch them up behind his broad back, to cup your soft ass before he cups your pussy, groaning into your neck when he feels you leak and he’s barely touching you to begin with. It makes his ego swell when your hands wrap around his neck; he hates being touched by mere, lowly mortals like you, but you are undeniably gorgeous and so wanting of him that he allows you just this once. “Always so sensitive – do you want to be good for your deity? Hm?”

“Y-yes!” you cry out, eyes snapping shut when he suddenly inserts a finger in.

The feeling is foreign yet not totally unwelcomed, but you grimace anyway at the slight sting his digits bring. Naoya pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy to coax your arousal to drip further into the sheets like a waterfall, your nails digging into his robes while he watches you with a smirk. He laughs when your eyes widen at the second finger pushing in, thumb rubbing over your clit until your legs tremble around him.

“Virgins are always so gorgeous once they finally learn of pleasure,” he scoffs to himself.

You look at him straight in the eye, mouth falling open while small gasps fall through at the speed he’s pushing into you at.

Something begins to form in your lower bally until your body grows utterly warm, something...something close about to snap when he pulls his fingers out of you, throwing his head back in laughter when you cry for the first time that night.

Naoya stares at the way your gaze darts from his cum-soaked fingers back to your drenched core, brows raised cockily before he stands up, his figure looming over you. “What? Got something to say?” you only whimper in response, closing your legs as you try to provide answers to the brooding confusion punching at the back of your skull.

The sound of faint rustling brings you back to life, your eyes snapping to witness your god undressing himself, the robes falling from his shoulders too wonderfully that the mere sight of him has you clenching around nothing.

Fat cock standing tall and proud, tip red and glistening with pre-cum and a body carved by fellow gods himself, the rumours were right.

He is beautiful, and it’s no lie that his slaves aren’t really slaves to begin with, not when all of them have been so eager to please him, just to have a taste of this divine being that stands before you. Naoya easily reads your face; from the slightly parted lips, thighs rubbing together and hands looming dangerously to your core – you look so needy it’s actually fucking pathetic.

He’s slow in his movements, languid and taking his time because he’s got time and more in this world that he never cares about wasting something he has a plethora of.

Naoya makes himself at home above you again, basking in the way you’re struggling to breathe even without his hands on you. It doesn’t take long before he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, clenching his jaw when you open your mouth submissively, innocent eyes blinking up at him as you take your juices into your mouth.

You’re a natural at this, he observes, tongue expertly swirling around his digits until you’ve licked it clean. Naoya pats your cheek affectionately, his own way of applauding you for your work.

Under him, you grow shy and abashed, arms covering your bare breasts because he’s a god, why should he be pleased with you?

Naoya doesn’t give you enough time to think before he’s hauling you upwards, your shoulders shoved back onto the ground. You kneel below him in prayer and he tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him, or rather his cock that’s slipping past your lips. You gag when he pushes his length all the way inside, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat.

Naoya sighs at finally being taken in – you should be grateful he even fingered you – his hands guiding your head to bob up and down him.

You do well at pleasing him even through the tears, clutching at his thighs while you suck in his length and swirl your tongue around the prominent veins. Naoya watches with hooded eyes as your cheeks hollow just to take his whole length in – and again, you’re a natural – so eager to please him too when you keep pushing and pushing, his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

His muscles ripple above you while he lets out a long, drawn out groan, nails scratching your scalp. You feel him twitch inside you and that’s when he takes over, snapping his hips ruthlessly until you’re left gagging and sucking his cock helplessly.

Your saliva is dribbling at the edges of your mouth, looking so fucked out and whore-like while he pushes himself to the edge. He doesn’t care that you’re choking and your eyes are zooming out of focus from not being able to breathe. He doesn’t care that you could die from asphyxiation, he doesn’t care because you’re his sacrifice – if you can’t even do this simple thing, then how else could you prove you’re worthy to live?

You know this too because you force yourself to breathe through your nose instead, wanting to show that you are worthy, that you can please and take him however he pleases you to.

Naoya isn’t stupid, he can see what you’re doing and can read your mind even in his lust-driven state. Nothing edges him more than a good, submissive whore. Now that he knows you’re willing to do anything without complaints, Naoya pulls his cock out just seconds away from orgasm, pushing you back into the mat with a grunt.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he hisses and pushes both your legs to the side, your body bent and pussy left open for him.

Naoya groans as he slides himself inside you. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but your virgin cunt is still too tight and new to this that you scream around him, subconsciously clenching around him harder.

“You’d do anything for me, yeah?” he challenges, cupping your face while he rams into you hard, uncaring that your walls are beyond abused and a ring of blood is already coating his cock. This isn’t the first time he’s taken someone’s purity, but this is the first time he’s had someone look gratified that he’s hurting them, fuelling him to fuck harder into you despite the steady stream of tears down your face. “Look at you – so obedient,” he pinches your nipples and rolls them between fingers, growling at the way your pained moan sounds more like an encouragement for him to go harder. “You want to please me so bad you don’t care I’m hurting you? Are you so eager to worship me that you won’t even stop me?”

“N-no, my lord,” you manage through the pain, regulating your breathing as you completely break down in tears. Naoya is hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your insides feel like they’re about to burst, and he takes note of this, pinching your clit just to get you to clamp down on him. “Please – use me however you want – please.”

Naoya smirks, pressing your knees flat on the ground before he hovers above you, forearms planted beside your head. At any other given moment, he prefers to fuck his sacrifices with their face planted on the ground because he can’t bear to see how disgusting they are, but you – you’re so damn beautiful it puts his fellow gods to shame.

Now yours is a face he’d like to keep looking at, so he roughly grabs your cheeks and squeezes them with his fingers, kissing your puckered lips and nipping at them.

You taste heavenly too; his servants did a good job of choosing honey as a gloss. Naoya greedily licks your lips until he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth the same way his dick is ramming inside your walls, tight, puffy lips wrapped happily around his base.

You’re moaning inside his mouth as he squeezes your breast painfully. Never in your whole life have you thought that pain would feel so good, enticing you to moan louder when the sting finally subsides, replaced with the mind-numbing sensation of his thick length rubbing against every ridge of your walls. Naoya pulls his face away from you, his cum and your saliva sticky on your face and he chuckles, the sound stuttered and breathy, brows drawn together.

He looks down to watch the way you accommodate him; this is by far the tightest and wettest cunt he’s ever fucked – ever will fuck – that he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with any random whore’s pussy anymore.

Naoya frowns as anger bubbles up inside him, hatred making his cock swell inside you because how dare you make him wish he won’t take anyone again.

He wants more – want to kill more people, want to fuck more virgins, want to have more blood showering his skin until he’s bathed in glory and gore, but even though you’re the one he’s destroying, he’s slipping on the edge, too lost and hypnotized at the way your tight walls suck him in. Your moans don’t help either; they’re breathy and whiny, so defeated yet so eager to have more that Naoya grips your hips tight enough he might’ve cracked a femur from his godly strength.

Your scream this time is that of pain and loss, grappling on the sheets while white bursts through your eyes. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you overwhelmingly and you fall limp to the sheets, your translucent cum soaking his cock along with the previous blood, but Naoya doesn’t stop.

He keeps slamming into you until you’re mute from oversensitivity, hands cold with sweat and eyes empty while he uses you as his own fuck toy.

He gets there eventually, the room painted with his groans followed by a feral snarl, the rhythm of his thrusts turning sloppy and unbalanced. Naoya stills inside you after burying himself to the hilt, his crotch angrily rubbing at your pelvic bone as he cums. You whimper at the feeling of his warm seed spilling inside you in thick spurts. Naoya pulls out with a slight wince, scoffing at the mess you’ve made on his precious dick, but he’s forced to soften a little when he sees both your cum spilling out your hole in a messy puddle, the liquid coating your ass.

Meek as always, you don’t move a muscle when Naoya spreads your legs open, inching his face close enough to watch the way your pussy stutters and legs tremble in front of him.

You’re absolutely ruined – the puffy lips spread out and hole still pushing out the remnants of his cum. He doesn’t bother pushing them back in, uncaring if he’ll get you pregnant or not because it’s not like matters to him. You are nothing but another body to fuck and dispose of under the river once he’s satisfied with you, but he surprises both you and him when Naoya suddenly pushes two fingers inside of you, his eyes dark as he insists on keeping his seed right where they should be nurtured.

Now that he’s sure that will make your belly grow and provide him with a half-mortal heir, Naoya retrieves his robes and walks out the room, the slamming of the door shut similar to an impending doom of an imminent death.

But not yours.

You’ve fulfilled your duty as the death curse bearer of your clan; the greatest and most formidable weapon they’ve been carving to perfection the moment you’re born. The cracks in your bones and bruises on your body immediately heal as you turn to your side, chanting under your breath a hushed whisper of the words of your ancestors who’ve perfectly planned the death of the Zen’in God who’s made his people suffer for thousands of years.

They would be proud of you.

And as a body crashes outside the door followed by the frantic screams of his confused servants, you smile to yourself, falling into a deep sleep upon using your true gift.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[arrowflier]

I'd like to see Ian and Mickey celebrating their 20th anniversary? Being all mature and grown up and realising how lucky they are they're still in love after all those years x

Mickey woke up to a weight over his back, pushing him down into the soft pillow-top mattress. Lips touched the back of his neck, warm and dry, Ian’s breath raising goosebumps on his skin.

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, rubbing his smile into the pillow. “Good morning, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian chuckled, a gentle huff of air that moved the hairs on the back of Mickey’s head.

“Good morning to you, Mr. Gallagher,” he murmured back, voice husky from sleep, lips brushing down to Mickey’s shoulder. He pulled the strap of Mickey’s tank top to the side, pressed a kiss to the pale skin it revealed.

“Happy Anniversary, Mick,” he said, kissing it into Mickey’s body. Mickey arched back against him, getting a hand up to hold Ian’s where it still rested on his shoulder.

“Twenty fucking years,” Mickey said proudly, and pushed back until Ian rolled over, letting Mickey do the same.

He moved from stomach to side to back, letting Ian settle back in on top of him once they were face to face. Ian’s bare chest was warm through Mickey’s own shirt.

“Long time, man,” Mickey said softly, reaching up to card gentle fingers through Ian’s hair. It glimmered red in the faint sunlight coming through the curtains, shot through with a few paler streaks that Ian swore were blond, not grey.

“And longer to come,” Ian promised, his smile bright and sleepily content.

They lay there for a moment, watching each other blink, watching each other breathe. Then Ian sighed, and lowered his head, capturing Mickey’s lips in their first real kiss of the morning.

It tasted terrible, but they were long past the days of caring about stale morning breath. The innocent slide of mouths gave way to sucking kisses, chapped lips pulled gently between teeth, soothed with tongues. Ian pulled back with a wet sound, moved his mouth up Mickey’s jaw, and pressed searching lips to the space just under his ear.

Mickey hummed, eyes slipping closed at the warmth of the sensation. The bed was soft under him, Ian comfortable over him, and he wanted nothing more than to live in that moment forever.

Or at least for a little while longer.

Ian had other plans.

“Ready for your present?” he breathed into Mickey’s ear, biting the lobe as Mickey shivered.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Mickey muttered as Ian traced his tongue down the side of his neck, “but I think I’d rather go back to sleep for a bit.”

Ian laughed, burying his face in Mickey’s shoulder, breath cooling the trail his mouth had left.

“I don’t blame you,” he admitted easily, rolling off of Mickey again to lay at his side instead. His arm crossed Mickey’s chest, hand secure around his bicep. “Last night was a mess; I’m ready to sleep for a week.”

“Remind me never to let your daughter go to a concert again,” Mickey said plaintively, turning his head to face Ian’s on the pillow. “I don’t care if we’re supposed to be her safe space or what-the-fuck-ever, picking up a bunch of drink teenagers in the middle of the night is not my idea of a good time.”

“Please,” Ian said, “Like you’d ever tell your daughter no.”

Fair enough.

“But regardless,” Ian continued, “we don’t have too long before the girls are up, and I wanted to give you your present in peace.”

“Fine,” Mickey grumbled, putting on a show of being disappointed. He rolled onto his side, reaching for the drawer of the bedside table, but Ian whacked his hand before he could open it.

“Thought you wanted to give me my present?” Mickey asked, eyebrows raised, but Ian shook his head.

“Not that kind of present, you dolt,” he laughed. “We can do that later, once we have the house to ourselves.”

Ian’s face softened as he bit his lip, eyes darting away from Mickey’s for a brief moment before coming back.

“I, uh,” he said, scratching his chin. “I kinda got you something else.”

“We said we weren’t buying shit, Ian,” Mickey pointed out. “Between tuition and fuckin’ club dues, we ain’t got a lot to spare right now.”

“I know, but…” Ian shrugged. “We had enough for this.”

He leaned over, reaching long arms under the bed, squirming until he found what he was feeling for. With a twist of his shoulders, he was back up on the bed and tossing a small box at Mickey without aiming.

Mickey fumbled it, then snatched it back off the sheets before Ian could see. He turned it in his hands, suspicious, but the twitch of his lips gave him away.

“Go on, open it,” Ian encouraged, scooting closer. “I think you’ll like it.”

Mickey did, untying the tiny bow and lifting the lid off the box with no fuss.

“I went with the modern theme,” Ian told him as he looked inside. “Platinum. Thought that fit us a little better than fine china.”

Mickey didn’t answer, eyes caught on the glint of metal peeking out from under a scrap of cheap tissue paper.

“It’s supposed to represent how strong we are, together,” Ian said as Mickey lifted his gift out of the box, turning it over in his hands. “That we’ve made it this far, overcome shit.” His eyes were on Mickey’s hands. “That we’re still here to stay.”

Mickey held his gift up toward the window, letting the light reflect off the silver surface. Just a keychain, a little metal charm in the shape of a record dangling from a short chain. The word “Always” was engraved along the top curve, and at the bottom, the date of their wedding.

“It’s not really platinum, obviously,” Ian said, twisting the sheet between his fingers. “I couldn’t afford that even if I—”

“Ian,” Mickey cut him off. “Shut up. I love it.”

When their eyes met, Ian was beaming.

“C’mere, you sappy idiot,” Mickey ordered with his own broad grin, and Ian met him with a single, lingering kiss.

Mickey pulled away before it could become anything more.

“Got you somethin’ to,” he said, watching Ian’s eyes from inches away. “’Cept I figured you were the traditional sort, so…” He shrugged. “Guess what you get?”

“Sex?” Ian joked, and Mickey rolled his eyes, standing up and swinging his legs out of bed.

“Not quite,” he answered dryly, opening their closet door and fishing through the dirty clothes on the floor inside. He lifted a much larger box with a muffled oomph, and carried it over to the bed, where he let it fall a bit on heavily onto the mattress in front of Ian.

“Go on,” he started, but Ian hadn’t waited anyway, already tearing off the paper with eager fingers.

“Jeez, you’re like a fuckin’ kid on Christmas,” Mickey laughed, and Ian stuck out his tongue as he pried the cardboard box open.

Ian paused as the contents were revealed, the pushed aside bubble wrap and packing paper to lift out a single, dessert-sized plate.

It was fragile and white, plain in the center, with bursts of blue and pink along the outer, silver-plated edge. The colors swirled together into petals, shaped like—

“Stargazer lilies,” Ian breathed, and his eyes were wet when he lifted them. “Mickey, they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey hedged, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So are you, you soft fucker.”

Ian’s breath caught.

“Not the same theme as yours,” Mickey said, gesturing to the plate with a hand that still held his own gift. “But the ideas kind of the same, you know?”

He reached out, took the plate from Ian’s hands.

“You said the platinum was for strength; well this shit’s pretty fragile,” he continued. “But it stays good if you take care of it.” He looked up at Ian. “And we take pretty damn good care of each other.”

“You know that stuff’s not gonna last in this house,” Ian pointed out, voice choked. “We might take care of each other, but we take terrible care of our stuff.”

“Might not even make it through tonight,” Mickey agreed. He traced a finger around the rim of the plate, the flowers there. “But we’re gonna use it anyway.”

He turned, set the plate down on the bedside table, along with his keychain. Hoisted the rest of the box down onto the floor. “We can have nice stuff,” he said as he did, “but I ain’t gonna be one of those people that leaves shit in a cabinet gettin’ all dusty.”

“Nah,” Ian agreed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That really wouldn’t be us.”

Mickey smiled, and leaned in, kissing the corner of Ian’s eye and the happy tears lingering there.

“No it wouldn’t,” he said softly, and then his grin turned wicked.

“And speaking of using things,” he said, flopping down onto his back, arms spread wide. “We should use the rest of the morning to our advantage ‘til the girls get up.” He waggled his eyebrows, glorying in Ian’s wet laugh.

“Come show me what the next twenty years will be like, lover boy,” Mickey challenged.

And climbing over him with a toothy grin, all else forgotten in favor of getting hands on skin, Ian did just that.

[finelinevogue]

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

[stormcrow513]

So first off sorry that this came off as calling you hypocritical I definitely didn't mean it as an attack at you at all,

I rebloged from you cause you were there basically, I should have communicated better that I meant it towards the Tumblr community at large, so one last time I apologize for not communicating that properly,

Like I said at the end of it I probably should have worked on making sure I had my thoughts clearer as you bring up some things id consider but wasn't sure how to get out, I mostly rebloged it as was without going over further cause I needed to get it off my head

So bare with me I am having a really bad brain day at the moment and I might not be coming off well

I think we are both in complete alignment that no one should receive hate over fanfiction.

As for the 'disney adult/harry potter adult' thing

Now I completely agree that some people are extremely fucking annoying and inconsiderate about it my ma worked with this woman that put Disney songs on all day long driving everyone nuts and would flip out if people asked her to turn it off cause 'everyone loves Disney'

Like that shits not ok to do to people,

So mocking that entitled attitude that some rock, like the people that had to have the HP game and didn't care that trans people were being hurt

All that is fucked and needs to be called out.

But what I'm getting at is what people find good or bad writing is entirely subjective,

Like one personal example I loved the hell out of King Arthur Legend of the Sword which kinda flopped into none existence compare to The Green Knight I thought I'd love it given my lifetime love of all things Camelot, but I would never watch it again, I just did not like it, but it was very popular.

It's just I don't know how to articulate this

What holds up as an adult with an adult brain depends on your brain, and while there's nothing wrong with not getting someone else's obsession with this or that thing,

I don't understand thinking this thing you like is superior to this thing someone else likes that you don't like

Not saying that's what you're doing,

Just that it's something I see commonly

And while I do have a fairly curated dashboard i try to look outside it to get a wider veiw on things,

Now JK is without a doubt doing harm on an extremely large scale I do not dispute that at all,

And I didn't mean to come across that misogyny is the only issue here just that I think it factors into it,

There is definitely a huge difference in scale.

Gaiman isn't creating and funding rape friendly bills (that I know of)

The way jk is funding bills against trans people

And I am a cis woman looking down the barrel of losing the right to an abortion so I feel the fear of legislation going through that will stripe your right to your body away I literally have had nightmares about being forced to keep a pregnancy,

I in no way am trying to minimize the amount of suffering Jk is causing,

So the amount of people they are hurting IS different

But harm is harm those women he hurt are hurt forever nothing will ever undo it

(And side bar we will never know how many people he's done this to, if I was a victim of his id shut up because I wouldn't want to be harassed and dragged through the Internet for ever,)

And I would personally want his balls ripped off if it was one woman

Again harm is harm irregardless of scale.

There's this thing I read once that comes my view up well 'it doesn't matter if you're drowning in 5 feet of water or 50 drowned is drowned'

From my point of view where I am sitting I am a rape survivor in trying to deal with that trauma I have looked for and listened to so many stories of rape,

and over and over again I see a common theme

rapists get away with it

Rape is treated as a lesser crime

Especially when it's a popular white man that's done it

It just doesn't stop

I'm sorry I wanted to reply back to you immediately because I never meant to make you feel attacked but I need to stop here cause I'm starting to get upset and I don't think I be able to articulate the rest of what I wanted to say, I think I got the most important parts out

And I understand if you blocked me no hard feelings on my end

Edit:

Ok

What I'm really trying and failing to articulate is simply

We are always going to react to feel more viscerally the things that effect us personally

And it's easier to condemn a person we already dislike vs someone who we do

We all have bias and those bias are different then everyone elses

And I think the best way to be kinder to each other when we are speaking about these sort of things is to know what yours are and to remember that you don't know what other peoples bias are

That's all I was trying to say that I'm sad and scared and I wish we could all be kinder going forward and ironically managed to say it in a way that hurt @redshiftsinger

Neil Gaiman is still following the PR playbook

I'm so sick of how Neil Gaiman is continuing to manipulate the conversation while displaying ZERO accountability or remorse.

Do you think him leaking that he's apparently offering to step back from Good Omens Season 3 is a sign that he realizes he fucked up and is trying to make it right? Absolutely not.

What he's doing is making the first moves to launder his reputation so that he can keep making money off of his IP and, eventually, return to the spotlight. All of the overjoyed reactions here and elsewhere are part of that plan.

One part of that Deadline article really stuck out to me.

[Highlighted Text: Deadline understands Gaiman’s offer is not an admission of wrongdoing...

Gaiman’s position is that he denies the allegations and is said to be disturbed by them.]

This is what makes me think that it is actively irresponsible to publicly celebrate or advocate for the continuation of any media project that involves or enriches Gaiman. The fact that Amazon has even announced that Good Omens is on hold shows the credibility of the accusations. And yet Gaiman leaking this information suddenly puts them on the backfoot. "Just take the deal!" cries the fandom. Neil is no longer the bad guy, it's Amazon who are now denying you your comfort show. It's blatant manipulation and it sickens me that it might actually work.

Boosting Good Omens or Sandman or Coraline at this time is not a victimless crime. True, no one person is going to be the difference between Gaiman facing consequences or not. But it's public opinion that will truly determine whether his legacy will be impacted. That's why he's spent a considerable amount of money on the same PR firm as Russell Brand, Prince Andrew, Danny Masterson, and Marilyn Manson. Their specialty is helping rapists get their lives back.

So please think of the long-term implications of breathing a sigh of relief and going back to posting about Good Omens, or signing a petition that gives Gaiman a way out of finally facing the consequences of his own actions.

Yes, none of these shows were 100% made by Gaiman. It sucks that this is going to affect people other than him. But maybe he shouldn't have chosen to sexually abuse at least 5 women and very likely more. In a just world, you fuck around and find out.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

“Are you here all night?” Jason asked, “or are you planning to, you know, be a human? I think those go home sometimes.”

High above Jason’s head, a swarm of bats entered the cave, winding among the stalactites and screeching a kind of garbled response.

Dick, however, said nothing. He remained bent over one of the long tables on the cavern floor, examining a map Jason could barely see from his own seat a short distance behind, ignoring Jason and his sarcasm both. 

Jason didn’t enjoy being ignored. 

Fine. 

“I have some tasks you could take over,” he suggested, in his least helpful voice, “if you’re in the market for an excuse to keep working. I know you make those sometimes.”

Nothing.

“I have some weapons to clean, if you want to do that. You could type out all my old cases, if that works, because I only have the originals and those are hard to work with.”

Still nothing.

“Take out the trash?” Jason tried. “Wash the dishes? I put a load of laundry in a couple of hours ago, but there’s a wool jacket in the mix, so be careful what you put in the dryer.”

Dick didn’t move. Jason was enjoying himself now.

“Write a sonnet? Map the White House?” Jason held up a finger Dick couldn’t see, like he had just remembered something interesting. “I think there’s a library on 8th that exploded a few days back, so if you could just grab the rubble from the street and rebuild it by hand, that would be great.”

No reaction. 

“Whatever,” said Jason, “I’m out of here. Get some sleep maybe? I know the whole work-to-outrun-despair routine is your ‘thing,’ or whatever, but it never looks good on you. Have you considered—”

Jason cut himself off as Dick finally turned away from the table. Looking him in the eye, Jason felt suddenly and inexplicably afraid. 

“Go on,” said Dick, quietly.

“I’m just… saying that it might make things worse, to shut off and—” Jason pointed at the mound of paper on the table, “obsess over this stuff instead.”

“You think?” Dick asked. “No shit.”

Jason blinked. “Wait, are you—”

“Did you think it never occurred to me,” said Dick, “that I might be spinning out?”

“I didn’t say you were spinning out.”

“Were you thinking that maybe,” Dick leaned back against the table edge and crossed his arms, carefully casual in a way Jason didn’t like, “hey maybe I, Dick Grayson, haven’t noticed how it feels to be forty-nine hours into a case and puking in the bathroom sink?”

“I didn’t—”

“Maybe I just haven’t realized why my vision blurs out and I can’t think straight, and it’s weird how this happens—” Dick held up a hand, and Jason could see his fingers shaking, “—if I keep going for too long.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Wow, yeah, now that you mention it, this might be,” Dick said, flatly, “bad.” 

Jason glanced down at his boots to break the eye contact. “I’ll back off,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“It might be bad that I can’t sleep until I’m falling-over exhausted. Maybe I shouldn’t be taking all these cases—”

“I said I’ll back off.”

“Or writing all these notes or spending weeks on research, more than that on training—”

“Listen—”

“I probably shouldn’t be leading all these teams, huh?” Dick smiled in a way that reminded Jason of what he should have remembered before he opened his own mouth: that Dick could be very, very dangerous. “Can I get your opinion on that?”

“I’ll—”

“I KNOW!”

Jason stumbled back a step in shock. 

“I KNOW that I’m working too hard!” Dick yelled, “And I KNOW why I do it!”

“Okay!” Jason backed away again. “Okay, I get it!”

“I work so I don’t have to think! I’d rather drop dead doing this shit than stop for the millisecond it would take to feel again! Are you happy now?”

“Calm down, okay? I didn’t—”

“I don’t want to feel,” said Dick, gesturing around him, “so I’m going to stand right here over and over again.”

“Fine!”

“And I’m going to keep shutting down because it goddamn WORKS!”

Dick turned away again, bending over the table like he hadn’t said anything at all. Jason stood frozen for a moment, staring. 

“Does it?” he asked into the silence.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Do you have something better?”

Jason looked down at his own hands and saw that they were shaking too.

“No,” he said.

“Then fuck off.”

Jason turned to leave, but Dick, it appeared, wasn’t ready to let it go. 

“I’m alive,” he said. “I’m standing and walking and doing all the things that matter.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve had enough of— enough of asking for help and getting—” Dick jerked an arm above his head, still turned away. “I don’t want to hear that the way I live is self-destructive. I already know. That’s why I’m here, that’s what I’m saying, that’s why I’m trying.” 

“Yeah.”

“Just… show me something better, or let me self-destruct.”

Jason fumbled awkwardly for something to say. “I’m sure— I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but whoever that is— I’m sure they’re… trying to help.”

“You weren’t,” said Dick.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were trying to land a cheap shot,” said Dick, “and feel like you’re better than me.”

Yes, that was true. Jason wasn’t sorry, exactly, but he regretted it, and those were different things.  

“I guess that makes me an asshole.”

“And a hypocrite.” Dick turned around again and leaned back in the same way, quiet, in control. “You never stop either… not since the pit anyway.”

“Don’t.”

“I mean it’s different, obviously, because I don’t think you’re trying to hide it. Me, I don’t want cracks to show. I don’t want all this grief and anger and— you said despair, right?”

“Stop.”

“I don’t want the despair to show because I want to look whole, but you—”

“You’ve made your point.”

“You want to look like a week-old corpse rotting on the concrete, and may I say?” Dick smiled. “Excellent performance. You look exactly like that.”

Jason didn’t say anything.

“It’s a world of difference,” Dick continued, “because I— I’m pushing through pain… and you’re pushing to feel it.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, and Jason found that it was difficult to breathe. 

“I could yell back for that,” he said. It came out softly, more soft than he meant, as Jason shoved away something very close to shame.

“Do it.”

“No. I think it’s funny when people call me the angry one.” Jason looked down at his shaking hands again. 

“I am angry,” he conceded, “but you’re just as bad as I am.”

“Thematic,” Dick snapped. “Get out.” 

“No. You opened this book, so we’re going to read it. You’re right.”

“Leave.”

“You’re right, I do exactly what you just said I do. Sometimes I don’t sleep for days, and it’s not because I can’t.”

Well, that might not be fully true, so Jason stopped to backtrack.

“I mean,” he corrected, “I don’t know if I could sleep, if I really tried, but that’s the point I’m making. I don’t try. I don’t want to sleep.”

“I said leave.”

“It’ll be four in the morning and I’m slumped sideways on my couch watching surveillance footage I don’t need to watch, because I know when I finally drag myself to the bathroom mirror, I’ll look like hell—”

“Get out!”

“—and I want to! I feel like hell, I feel like goddamn Brutus in the Devil’s jaws, and I want to look like it. If I look like death, that means my pain is real.”

“Get out or regret it.”

“Oh, I know it’s self-destructive,” said Jason, smiling his best unnerving smile. “How could I miss it when I’m blacking out in stairwells and picking fights on purpose, just to get kicked around?”

That particular sentence, it appeared, caught Dick’s attention, because he stayed quiet this time, glaring from across the room.

Well then, Jason decided, it was time to push further. 

“Let’s get personal, shall we? Why do I live in this fucking city to see you or him or whoever else is living in the capes this week? I’m not shooting for reconciliation!”

“Well?”

“I’m going to stay here and cause problems until every single one of you hates me enough to shove me away. How’s my performance, by the way? Is it working? I’d love to get your opinion.”

Dick made a face that Jason couldn’t interpret, so Jason chose to press on. 

“It’ll hurt when I pull that off because I do actually care about you, but you know what? I’ll like that. Maybe someday all of this will kill me, and I’ll kind of like that too.” 

Jason paused a beat to let Dick interject, but Dick didn’t. 

“Your turn,” said Jason pleasantly. “Thoughts?”

Nothing.

“I like the aesthetic of self-destruction,” said Jason. “I’m going to look in the mirror tomorrow and see dark circles and scars, and it’s going to feel like being myself in a way that nothing else does.”

In that moment, watching Dick glare, Jason felt very tired— not in a way that sleep could solve, and not in a way that anyone could fix. No matter what Jason did, no matter what he tried, he could always feel himself sinking. He was empty and heavy at the same time, somehow trapped in place, unable to do anything except lie in his own blood.

A rotting corpse indeed.

“I’m not judging you,” said Jason. “I don’t have the space for that. I won’t tell you to just… change. I’m sick of hearing that too, hearing that I don’t have to do this to myself, that I am doing this to myself.”

Dick nodded. Jason wasn’t sure at what, but it felt like permission to keep going, so he did.

“I know I’m holding on to something I shouldn’t,” Jason admitted, even though it hurt to say out loud. “I know, but I can’t let go when there’s nothing else to take. I don’t have anything profound to say. I don’t… know what else there is.”

That was it. That was all Jason had, so he shrugged and stared down at the floor, waiting.

“I think if I stop working I’ll fall apart,” said Dick, finally, “and this time I won’t be able to scrape myself together.”

“Yeah.”

“I think fine, so I don’t have to keep going. I don’t have to shove away the dark and force myself through, but what would happen if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

“I would be a shivering, hollow shape on my floor, maybe forever. I don’t know what I want to be, but I can’t be… I can’t be only that.” 

Jason understood.

“It’s hard,” said Dick. “I always hear— and say, I say this to other people— that things can be okay. I guess it’s true, but does it matter?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Unless I leave the cave right now and never come back, this is my life. I have an apartment and a fucked-up family—”

“Thanks.”

“—and I spend every night jumping through smog and the ghosts of everything I’ve ever done.”

“Saving people,” Jason noted.

“Win some,” said Dick, “lose some. How many times have you watched a person die?”

“A few.”

“A few.” Dick shook his head. “I know too much, but I have too much to leave behind.”

“I have a guy who makes passports on demand, if you change your mind,” said Jason. “He’s amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Prints while you wait.”

Dick shot Jason a flat kind of look.

“What?” Jason asked. “It would simplify my plans.”

Dick half-smiled at that, and Jason got the sense that they were done yelling, maybe, for awhile.

“I feel trapped, and I don’t know how to fix myself,” said Dick, “while I’m still… here.” 

“Yeah.”

“I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I know. Me too.”

“It isn’t getting any easier.” 

Jason thought about that for awhile. It would be nice to have an answer— something simple to say, some match to light in their common ground— but Jason couldn’t find one, so he shrugged again and hoped that understanding would be enough. 

It had to be something, didn’t it?

It was the best he could do. There were times, Jason figured, to talk about breathing exercises and the mess of self-help books piled on his dresser, but he knew this wasn’t one of them. They could call it catharsis, he decided, and leave it at that. 

“We could say it’s Bruce’s fault?” Jason suggested, since he was out of other ideas. “I like blaming Bruce for the shit I do.”

“You do?”

“Fuck off.”

Dick smiled fully at that one. “I’m not above it either.”

“Great,” said Jason. “Can I leave a note saying we blame him? No context at all, maybe on a single post-it? I think it would be really funny.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll bounce after that, for real this time.” Jason spun a finger in a circle a few times, pointing around the cave. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Yeah.” Dick tapped a finger against the table a few times, like he was thinking. After a moment, he pulled a bag from the edge and started packing up his things. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, me too.”

Fin.

---

art by @doc-squash​