#i think writing out this answer was very productive for me in that way :')

[psicheanima]

I've always admired your eye for fashion. Your posts about it on twitter are some of my favorite of yours. Out of curiosity, did you ever encounter a character who had a sense of style you thought didn't suit them which couldn't be explained by purposeful characterization? And if so, how did you think they would dress?

Thank you very much. Yes, it happens a lot, but to answer I suppose I want to talk about a problem in comics of continuing to write characters who were very much a product of their time fashion-wise: Laura Kinney and Nico Minoru. Despite these characters being incredibly gothic with unique outfits, and saying MANY times that this style of dress “felt like them”— in recent years, Neither of them are goth, ever. Especially Laura. She is only drawn in incredibly bland clothes. The edgiest she will ever get is a leather jacket. She dresses explicitly like a girl version of her father, when her unique taste in fashion was a clear stand-out from the writers to create her own unique, more emo identity than Logan had— he is very recognizable by his flannel and more western biker clothes.

For Nico, it all starts with that demon Kris Anka. In his defense, Nico had been wearing increasingly un-researched gothic fits the more she was divorced from Runaways comics. Her outfits got more stereotypically emo rather than punk, clearly drawn by artists who weren’t too well educated in fashion. Nico was known for being a goth character. It is essential to her moody history and even her powers— they involve her needing to cut herself, clear goth stereotype which is deconstructed.

But Kris Anka’s designs of the Runaways were very “updating to suit modern sensibilities.” Karolyn’s, who was peak 2000s soft bohemian— with wrap around tank tops and NEVER without her frayed jeans, was now a complete prep, wearing things that her more down-to-earth, hippie original never would.

In Nico’s case, she is not a goth anymore. She is alt, yeah, but alt grunge. She wears bright colors, dyes her hair in a distinctly 2016 way, and for some horrible reason— is very attached to flannel. This portrayal of her fashion became repeated by other artists to the point that it’s her look in the new Spider-Man show. You understand how upsetting this is to Me? It’s like if someone ripped off all my finger nails than made me eat them.

Yes, the type of goth they were was most popular in its time. But they were characters constructed around those styles and should keep them. They should not grow out of the styles, but evolve with them. I am also an adult and I dress the way they did. It just hurts to see characters with my fashion sensibility have their drip taken away in such a barbaric manner. And have these sauceless outfits now be their style. Laura is her own person— why would she just be a woman version of her dad? Because she’s figured out her life she went from painstakingly choosing her presentation to being a lazy bum who wears only primary colors? To being the lobotomized man’s view of “badass woman clothes”? Just make genderbend Logan art, I will fucking kill you.

[astradyke]

I swear every dnp fan feels the equivalent of massive catholic guilt over being a fan of them . Like its a phenomenon I haven’t seen to this extent in any other fandom I can think of . Phatholic guilt if you will

Phatholic guilt is crazy anon 😭

yeah, that is definitely a phenomena. mm, i have a lot of thoughts about it, but i guess all i'll say is like... my perspective is, we're having a fun time, and dan and phil are having a fun time, yeah? and while fan culture definitely impacted them back in their roughest years, of course it did they weren't exactly insulated from it, there was so so so much more they've described going on in the 2012-2013 years alone. so while i understand a lot of guilt folks feel about like... Past Phandom Crimes, like, dan and phil can just tell us if our jokes about sister daniel's thighs or about them fucking nasty are crossing a line. so that's kind of my own thing on the guilt front just being like, well. they're happy now, things are really good. and trying to cross-examine 12 year old mare for reading wattpad fanfiction or whatever is kind of pointless, given that i am no longer 12, and 12 year old mare most certainly had bigger issues in her life than dan and phil RPF discourse. like geometry homework. and other such things

which is why i kinda think like, yeah, they'll bully us as TIT. they'll joke about us and our oh they're touching jokes, right. but i don't think they're out to punish us. i genuinely think they find all of this beautiful, us and them and our dynamic, and i think TIT is so much more of a celebratory reclamation than a "fuck you for what you've done to us" reclamation.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[ryin-silverfish]

So You Want to Read More about Chinese Mythos: a rough list of primary sources

"How/Where can I learn more about Chinese mythology?" is a question I saw a lot on other sites, back when I was venturing outside of Shenmo novel booksphere and into IRL folk religions + general mythos, but had rarely found satisfying answers.

As such, this is my attempt at writing something past me will find useful.

(Built into it is the assumption that you can read Chinese, which I only realized after writing the post. I try to amend for it by adding links to existing translations, as well as links to digitalized Chinese versions when there doesn't seem to be one.)

The thing about all mythologies and legends is that they are 1) complicated, and 2) are products of their times. As such, it is very important to specify the "when" and "wheres" and "what are you looking for" when answering a question as broad as this.

-Do you want one or more "books with an overarching story"?

In that case, Journey to the West and Investiture of the Gods (Fengshen Yanyi) serve as good starting points, made more accessible for general readers by the fact that they both had English translations——Anthony C. Yu's JTTW translation is very good, Gu Zhizhong's FSYY one, not so much.

Crucially, they are both Ming vernacular novels. Though they are fictional works that are not on the same level of "seriousness" as actual religious scriptures, these books still took inspiration from the popular religion of their times, at a point where the blending of the Three Teachings (Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism) had become truly mainstream.

And for FSYY specifically, the book had a huge influence on subsequent popular worship because of its "pantheon-building" aspect, to the point of some Daoists actually putting characters from the novel into their temples.

(Vernacular novels + operas being a medium for the spread of popular worship and popular fictional characters eventually being worshipped IRL is a thing in Ming-Qing China. Meir Shahar has a paper that goes into detail about the relationship between the two.)

After that, if you want to read other Shenmo novels, works that are much less well-written but may be more reflective of Ming folk religions at the time, check out Journey to the North/South/East (named as such bc of what basically amounted to a Ming print house marketing strategy) too.

-Do you want to know about the priestly Daoist side of things, the "how the deities are organized and worshipped in a somewhat more formal setting" vs "how the stories are told"?

Though I won't recommend diving straight into the entire Daozang or Yunji Qiqian or some other books compiled in the Daoist text collections, I can think of a few "list of gods/immortals" type works, like Liexian Zhuan and Zhenling Weiye Tu.

Also, though it is much closer to the folk religion side than the organized Daoist side, the Yuan-Ming era Grand Compendium of the Three Religions' Deities, aka Sanjiao Soushen Daquan, is invaluable in understanding the origins and evolutions of certain popular deities.

(A quirk of historical Daoist scriptures is that they often come up with giant lists of gods that have never appeared in other prior texts, or enjoy any actual worship in temples.)

(The "organized/folk" divide is itself a dubious one, seeing how both state religion and "priestly" Daoism had channels to incorporate popular deities and practices into their systems. But if you are just looking at written materials, I feel like there is still a noticeable difference.)

Lastly, if you want to know more about Daoist immortal-hood and how to attain it: Ge Hong's Baopuzi (N & S. dynasty) and Zhonglv Chuandao Ji (late Tang/Five Dynasties) are both texts about external and internal alchemy with English translations.

-Do you want something older, more ancient, from Warring States and Qin-Han Era China?

Classics of Mountains and Seas, aka Shanhai Jing, is the way to go. It also reads like a bestiary-slash-fantastical cookbook, full of strange beasts, plants, kingdoms of unusual humanoids, and the occasional half-man, half-beast gods.

A later work, the Han-dynasty Huai Nan Zi, is an even denser read, being a collection of essays, but it's also where a lot of ancient legends like "Nvwa patches the sky" and "Chang'e steals the elixir of immortality" can be first found in bits and pieces.

Shenyi Jing might or might not be a Northern-Southern dynasties work masquerading as a Han one. It was written in a style that emulated the Classics of Mountains and Seas, and had some neat fantastic beasts and additional descriptions of gods/beasts mentioned in the previous 2 works.

-Do you have too much time on your hands, a willingness to get through lot of classical Chinese, and an obsession over yaoguais and ghosts?

Then it's time to flip open the encyclopedic folklore compendiums——Soushen Ji (N/S dynasty), You Yang Za Zu (Tang), Taiping Guangji (early Song), Yijian Zhi (Southern Song)...

Okay, to be honest, you probably can't read all of them from start to finish. I can't either. These aren't purely folklore compendiums, but giant encyclopedias collecting matters ranging from history and biography to medicine and geography, with specific sections on yaoguais, ghosts and "strange things that happened to someone".

As such, I recommend you only check the relevant sections and use the Full Text Search function well.

Pu Songling's Strange Tales from a Chinese Studios, aka Liaozhai Zhiyi, is in a similar vein, but a lot more entertaining and readable. Together with Yuewei Caotang Biji and Zi Buyu, they formed the "Big Three" of Qing dynasty folktale compendiums, all of which featured a lot of stories about fox spirits and ghosts.

Lastly...

The Yuan-Ming Zajus (a sort of folk opera) get an honorable mention. Apart from JTTW Zaju, an early, pre-novel version of the story that has very different characterization of SWK, there are also a few plays centered around Erlang (specifically, Zhao Erlang) and Nezha, such as "Erlang Drunkenly Shot the Demon-locking Mirror". Sadly, none of these had an English translation.

Because of the fragmented nature of Chinese mythos, you can always find some tidbits scattered inside history books like Zuo Zhuan or poetry collections like Qu Yuan's Chuci. Since they aren't really about mythology overall and are too numerous to cite, I do not include them in this post, but if you wanna go down even deeper in this already gigantic rabbit hole, it's a good thing to keep in mind.

[muntitled]

𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 ♡

Summary: Taking care of your touch starved boyfriend proves to be more difficult than you initially thought...

Warnings: Established Relationship, Sickeningly sweet Fluff, Heated Making Out, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), Touch Starved!Wonbin, Groping, Dirty Talk, Choking, Daddy Kink, Slight!DDLG, Praise Kink, Fingering

Literally no one asked. But I just had to write something sweet and domestic

A melody that is equal parts romantic, equal parts horrifically tragic bleeds from the strings being coaxed by Wonbin's long fingers. You watch dreamily as he plays you a tune, while you both lay utterly defeated on the couch.

The Friday night lights scattered around the city, bleed in through the cracks in the curtain and your entire front is warmed by Wonbin's back. Your eyes had fluttered closed sometime in between his playing and so you would never know that his eyes were trained on you, as his head rested backwards and his fingers played away.

“Why are you always playing me some Orwellian shit?” You attempt to sound annoyed.

Your eyes are still closed but a light chuckle reaches your ears and you smile, satisfied. Wonbin peers down at his fingers, mindlessly dancing ober the cords as he says,“I think it was supposed to be romantic,” His voice is like gravel and thunder and your stomach warms inside you.

“Almost as romantic as two teenagers killing themselves for one another.” Your eyes flutter open as your fingers find their way at the tips of Wonbin's messy hair, “Would you die for me, Binnie?” his answer is grim in its intensity and instancy,

“Die? Probably not. But I would probably attempt to hurt someone very, very badly for you,” his gaze is still lowered to his strumming as he softly says, “not just physically, but there's plenty of other ways to hurt someone. I'd probably do that, instead of actually dying for you.”

You were forced to get accustomed to Wonbin's morbidity because it almost came as a by-product of his various other terrific attributes. He speaks with a near constant air of grimness that makes your irrational heart swell.

He continues his morose little tune until you cut him off quite abruptly, quite rudely when you say:

"When was the last time you did some hair care?"

That had probably been the very last question he expected to hear (and perhaps maybe even wanted to hear) so early into a rainy Friday evening. His limbs were laden with post-performance exhaustion and all he wished to do, was continue laying between your legs, his head cushioned by your breasts. He was in absolute bliss with your hand patting down his head nearly coaxing him into an early slumber.

It was the perfect way to end a stressful day, until you invariably decided to choose violence.

Wonbin cranes his head back slightly and he narrows his sleepy eyes as he groans out, "Is this your characteristically nice way of telling me my hair looks bad?"

You try to coax his head back down onto your chest, and he steadily complies as you try to pepper him with reassurances, "This is my characteristically nice way of telling you that you need some hair care."

And he concedes, almost immediately with a daft little shrug. He's not sure if it's the affect of the softness of your chest pillowing his cheek or the softness of your body underneath him but Wonbin chooses to see this as the universe gifting him with the possibility of being seated between your thighs while you weave your fingers through his hair to your heart's content.

The thought effects him in ways he did not anticipate and soon, he is turning his face into your chest and nuzzling into the cleavage. "When do we start?"

An obnoxious, borderline unladylike laugh pushes its way through youre throat as you try to shrug the boy off of your chest but to no avail. Wonbin's kisses along your cleavage are unrelenting and you release a breathless little chuckle. "I proposed that we do your hair-" You finally succeed in pushing his head back, "Not that you end up inside of me on the damn couch."

"Why can't you do my hair…” Wonbin turns to ease his fingers along the waistband of your sweats, “...After you let me inside.” He continues to splay wet, needy kisses along your chest.

While he distracts himself, you inconspicuously hook your fingers into the hair tie securing his raven hair back and you pull, letting his hair fall like a across his face while he continues to assault your skin with hickies. You're momentarily stunned by the sheer length of Wonbin's hair as he continues to lap hungrily at your skin, deciding to stretch his bravery and let his hand crawl up under your loose shirt.

"Your hair is so pretty, Binnie,"

"Your everything is so pretty, baby," He groans and you can tell from the low panting in his voice and the hand skimming the underside of your breasts that he is getting himself worked up.

While Wonbin shifts his weight on top of you so that he begins to straddle you, you're very alarmed but not surprised to find him already completely hard.

A very familiar, very distracting bulge pushing against your thigh brings you back to earth.

"I need to fuck you now," He affirms robotically with a curt nod of his head of hair spilling around his face.

"Down boy,” you shoot out a hand against his chest. Keeping him at arm's length. “We need to wash it now,"

"I need to fuck you now,"

"You're insatiable today,"

"You say this as if it's something new."

"Fair enough," you murmer, letting your head fall on the armrest as you watch your boyfriend seated above. His bushy eyebrows scrunch up until he's racking his fingers through his hair, attempting to detangle the web of raven locks and failing horribly.

"Hurry up, so I can tie this back up," he grumbles in apparent vexation. "I hate having it like this." You throw your head back as you wrestle to wriggle yourself up from underneath him but he stays put.

"Afterwards, you let me give you the most mind blowing orgasm you've ever had,"

"Afterwards," you grumbled back, using his distraction to knock his balance of kilter, "-you let me put some of my hair clips in."

He had been a grumbling, moody mess throughout the entire process. Washing his hair in the bathroom sink while Wonbin sat on a stool had been a nightmare filled with you having to swat away at Wonbin's hand whenever it got too bold and decided to attack you while you were hovering over him, letting the water wash the suds away. You were pleasantly surprised by just how much you were enjoying running your fingers through his scalp, stirring up the shampoo until it created a halo of bubbles on his head, all while you were humming steadily to his latest song.

"You're very pretty," Wonbin said suddenly as you proceeded to towel down his hair. Your heart squeezed with adoration inside its cage.

"You're very pretty, too."

Your reply released a whirlwind of butterflies scattering inside his stomach, threatening to climb out his oesophagus and spill out of his mouth. The exchange was perhaps so tender it almost felt unreal.

His eyes, as dark as they are, as endless as they are, bore into yours. You're still hovering above him, but the towel falls gently to the floor, and soon, you're being pulled into that spindly web that was the force of Wonbin's entire freaking aura and you're leaning in close.

“I have to finish up.” It comes out as a whisper.

You immediately know when your eyes flit down to his lips, thay you're already too far gone.

“Why are you leaning in then?” He whispers back with a lazy smirk spilling across his lips.

“Because you're making me,” whispering is all you're both able to do, in fear of shattering this incredibly charged energy between you.

“Am I?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head with his own eyes now staring up at your lips. He is feeling less apologetic for his unsavoury thoughts because Wonbin's has been forced to endure all of 5 minutes of you scrubbing at his hair, while your breast pushed right against his face.

Apologetic is the last thing he feels right now.

“You're a fucking tease,” he breathes out. And his large hand is slithering up the back of your neck until your lips are crashing onto his with a surprised yelp.

As your lips move in tandem with one another, Wonbin's hand never leaves your neck. Instead, he chooses to prolong the kiss by breaking away in short intervals. Never straying too far.

Wonbin's mouth is all encompassing. He slithers his tongue in almost conspiratorially and you gasp at the sudden yet swift intrusion. Both your tongues meet in a fiery, borderline barbaric kiss and you swear on everything you love that you could cum off of making out with him alone.

How utterly embarrassing that would be.

When the faintest moan slips out of your mouth Wonbin abandons all other inhibitions. He rises from the chair like lightning and you nearly roll backwards from the sheer size of him.

His heavy shoulders are bent down to keep your lips locked against his as he pushes you against the sink. With one more kiss, Wonbin spins you around until your front is facing the foggy mirror, and his front is pressed against your back.

He leans his head down, pressing his lips to your ear as he says, “Are you gonna let me in now?” His fingers slide against the waistband of your sweats and you immediately know what he means.

A wanton sound bleeds from your chest and you push your ass backwards, pressing it against the bulge in his sweats.

Wonbin's other hand finds the front of your throat as he cranes your neck backwards.

“You gonna be good for me, Princess?” He asks in a vaguely condescending manner as he juts his bottom lip out and gazes down at you, mirroring your pained, wanton expression.

“You finally ready to be a good little girl, huh?”

You couldn't stand his infuriating teasing any longer and so you make the daring decision to push your own hand into the front of your sweats- or perhaps you try to. Wonbin's hand locks around your wrist and squeezes until you're wincing in pain. His gaze is unfazed as he releases the grip on your wrist and pushes his own hand down your pants.

“You're so fucking stupid sometimes, Angel.” His words run like rain on the forest floor and your eyes flutter shut when his fingers push past your drenched underwear.

“You're fucking soaked, baby,” He croaks, keeping his nose nuzzled in your neck as he swipes his fingers along your folds. Wonbin soon loses himself the movements of his own fingers, until his bucking against your ass while muttering dirty nothings into your ear in a dizzying amalgamation.

“M-More, please-”

That immediately rouses him from his pleasure filled state. Wonbin blinks away the pleasure and straightens his slightly hunched frame.

“You want my cock inside you baby?” His eyes are trained on the side of your face while swiping his hands across the mirror so you could see the mess he's already made of you.

Your lips hang open and Wonbin's damp hair falls over his face as he towers over you.

“My good girl wants me inside of her so badly,” he whispers, almost robotically, as if he were chanting the words to himself as he pushes his hand in his sweats. As he begins to fist his aching cock Wonbin lazily brings his hooded eyes up to your reflection and you both watch each other through the mirror.

He looks so incredibly hungry and so you do nothing but comply as he places a hand on your lower back, forcing you over the sink.

“You're gonna be good for me?” He looks visibly pained when you nod slowly before allowing him to pull your sweats down enough to accommodate his cock at your centre.

“Tell me you'll be good,” his voice shook with the force of his own arousal and you could tell, from his voice alone, that he was already slipping into domspace.

“I'll be goo- fuck!” He's already easing to you with little to no preparation and from his shallow thrusts alone, you can tell how needy he is.

“Ah-fuck, you're so tight…”

Wonbin loses himself in the warmth of your cunt. He paws at your breasts, his fingers tweaking your nipples as he cock fucks you deeper and deeper. He breathes heavily as he pulls the hem of his shirt up, dead set on watching his cock disappear inside your wet folds.

And you watch in the mirror: his flat stomach glistening and moving in tandem with his needy thrusts while his hand swipes obliviously away at his bangs.

“F-Fuck you feel so good- You feel so fucking good, baby,”

You're clenching around him in the wake of his endless praise and your moans are amplified inside the bathroom.

“F-Fuck- Binnie-”

“Binnie?” He pants out with his fingers latching onto your hips, pulling you back to meet his furious thrusts, “Who the fuck's ‘Binnie’?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and your arms grow particularly weak when Wonbin hits that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. You're so completely cock drunk but Wonbin holds your weakening frame up with his hand around your throat.

Wonbin's lips tickle your ear as he says, “You wanna call me Daddy, don't you?”

You're absolutely fargone, and you're muttering incoherently while he uses you. In a moment like this, you would say yes to damn near anything.

“It's too m-much, Daddy,”

He's shaking his head, big eyes boring into yours as he tuts in a faux baby voice, “It's just the right amount, baby,” His thrusts grow irregular as he gazes down at your fucked out expression, “Daddy's fucking you just right, isn't he Princess-”

“Daddy, I'm gonna-”

“It's okay, Baby,” His melodic voice succeeds in bringing you to the crevice of your orgasm and melt into him, “You're listening so well, aren't you?” His voice cracks as he spills his seed inside of you, “S-So fucking good.” Wonbin buries his face in the crook of your neck as he shoots his cum inside of you. The hand on your neck never eases away and you're still caught in throes of pleasure when he splayed multiple drunken kisses against the side of your head

“God you're such a good girl.” He whispers before splaying one final kiss to the back of your head.

You would always be terrified that one day, you would wake up and realise that this big hearted raven haired boy had been a fragment of your imagination.

Nothing but a dream.

A really, really good dream.

That thought, no matter how irrational, never left you without a wave of unease.

"Now I need to brush your hair,"

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[mnnuni]

Domestic

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's perspective of Sam and Reader's relationship; Sam and Reader are two cutie patooties Words: 1450 Warnings: none, very fluffy Author's note: I actually don't know if I love this or I hate it

A solid faithful relationship into the hunters' field was almost rare: if they were married they were either consummed for loss or full of affairs and if they had boyfriends or girlfriends they will fight for the distance or the different visions of life. And then there was the rarity, the true love cases, the one in which they would share their life of hunters as easily as a piece of bread.

Dean Winchester never really believed in those rareness, never really believed in love in general... that was untill he really saw Sam and (Y/N) together.

Their love started slowly, it was one of that things that people would say "we already knew" when they eventually announced their relationship.

Dean was convinced that Sam's heart decided from the very beginning of their story that he would beat out of his ribcage only for her in his entire life; Dean saw it in the way Sam didn't just pass (Y/N) the milk and sugar for her coffee for her second cup of that day on their first case together, but he put them in her mug while she read out loud some articles for Dean. Sam didn't put much thougth in that action, but when she realized (Y/N) blushed because he remebred the exact order and amount of products she used after only one time.

But Dean also knew that he approved of their relationship when it was him that proposed to Sam to pick the impala and take (Y/N) somewhere special, just because she deserved all the effort his brother could put in a date and even more. Sam wasn't so surprised about that because he also saw how Dean had grown fond of (Y/N), to the point she was the only girl ever that didn't receive the "hurt my brother and I will end you" speech but it was the other way around.

When (Y/N) confined in Dean one night he really wasn't expecting what she was telling him, after more than an year of being officially with Sam.

"I know he loves me" that was her premise, and Dean could have screamed "WE ALL KNOW" but he let her keep going "but sometimes i whish things were easier" at this the Whinchester quirked an eyebrow and Y/N started rumbling then "I'm not saying it isn't easy with Sam, I just want to say that ... there's never a period of peace in our kind of lifes and we all accepted this when we decided to be hunters, but sometimes I find myself of dreaming one night together without running from something or cleaning up eachother scars... I need normality"

Dean knew that this was also Sam's dream, his little brother wanted this since Stanford, but he also knew that both of them needed to hunt because that was what gave them the hope to make the world a better place and the adrenaline that every man and every woman would need to go throu life.

After this conversation with (Y/N), Dean almost ran to Sam to order him to organize something special for his lady; he wasn't surprised to find him already writing a list of things he wanted to do with her, "I know I didn't give her the right amount of attention these past weeks, shoul I go for a picnic or romantic restaurant?". Dean tried not to smile at his answer, even if he really admired how Sam could know how his girlfriend felt withouth even say anithing and his commitment to their relationship; "The picnic is cute, but not for this time of the year. No reastaurant. She needs something calm, be domestic dude"

He left him like this to think of something, he was sure his brother would have find the right thing.

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

The next day Sam was adjusting one of the bunker's biggest room, he bought a projector and a too big amount of movies -even if he thought that he could never do too much for (Y/N)-

He asked Dean to help him put her favorite couch in there and order a lot of her favourite snacks.

Dean was really proud of how Sam behaved with (Y/N) and for (Y/N), never saw him so whipped for no-one.

When (Y/N) got out of her shower, she was ready to jump into Sam's bed and sleep for two days if she could; instead she found Dean in the kitchen with a blindfold in his hands, "I promise, you will lovee what you'll see after this" he winked and then put it on her face.

"I swear to God Dean, if you're tricking me..." they were walking a pat she never did in the bunker "oh please you love me too" "if you think so...", Dean stopped her in front of a purple metal door and took the blindfold off "oh i know so" he whispered and then proceeded to walk away from there.

(Y/N) was left to wonder what the hell was going on when Sam opened said door and smiled "Hi", it had the same emotion he carried during their first date, (Y/N) smiled too and got on her tiptoes to give him a light kiss. He grabbed her hand and walked her into the room, she would have cried if she realized sooner everything there was in that room.

"You did all this for me?!"

It was clear in her voice that she was emotional in that moment and Sam hated the fact that she underestimated her value for him, "baby, that's nothing. Perhaps I should have done something sooner when I first started to notice you needed some time alone" "thank you". Sam smiled and gave her a kiss.

When they finally settled onto the couch (Y/N) was analyzing every detail there was in Sam's preparation: he put three blankets on the couch 'cause he knew he was too tall to tall for them both be covered entirely just by one and also added few pillows because (Y/N) loved the fluffy feeling of them while watching a movie; he made a little table with every kind of chips the market sold and four bottles of her favorite soda, on the shelf under it there were two or three packages of cookies too. Sam also organised something like fifteen movies, all divided by genre and number of stars (Y/N) gave them when they first talked about it.

Sam chose the first movie of the night -obviously a musical- and settled next to his girlfriend. She was so fucking happy about all Sam had done for her.

(Y/N) put her head on his chest while Sam's arm was around her shoulders, drawing figures on her arms to make her relax some more.

Dean snuck in after the first two songs of the musical and rested with one shoulder leaned on the doorframe to look at them: they were adorable. At first when they were on their honeymoon phase Dean felt the need to puke every two seconds, but now he loved to look at them from afar and be happy of their happiness

(Y/N) lifted her head to look at Sam: he was so focused on the screen,the lights of the scenes illuminated his face in a way that made his eyes sparkle.

"I love you", she whispered and Sam's face turned instantly. She still blushed when Sam looked at her that way, "and I love you".

Dean didn't see the kiss because he closed the door immediately after his brother said those words, that was another of the things that made Dean root for them: they never said "I love you too", like they had to say it just because or to not be in an embarrassing situation; every time they proclaimed their love for eachother they made sure to let the other know how much they actually loved eachother and how they really believed in what they said with that "I love you".

Sam and (Y/N) watched another movie and a documentary, they finished almost all the chips and sodas. After about the half of the documentary (Y/N) fell asleep snuggled up to Sam, who was massaging her head -he already knew that after one cookie she was about to pass out, so he made sure to get her in the most comfortable position and help with his hands in her hair to allow the sleep to finally set-

Dean never got back in that room, because he knew that they would have fallen asleep eventually. He made himself a burger and drank one too many beers, but it didn't matter because that night Dean too slept so well knowing that his brother and his sister were okay.

[lymtw]

hello hello! i don’t know if you’re comfortable with writing this, but if so are you open to writing a toji x reader fic involving period sex? thank you!!! and p.s. i love your writing 😫❤️

A/N: Thank you for reading my works ☺️🫶🏼 I am totally comfortable writing this! I should really put up a post with my do's and don't's. I'll get to that as soon as I find the motivation 😃👍 Anyways, thank you for sending in this request 💙

| cw: period sex |

You don't like making a scene out of that time of the month when it comes to spending time with Toji. You don't like mentioning it to him, so whenever he wants to start removing clothes with you during that time, you always make up some excuse. You say you're not in the mood or that you're too tired or that you can help him out, but that's all, and thank god he never pushes it. He would rather take what you offer him or suck it up and bear the horniness in silence, than make you uncomfortable.

Toji knows the basics of basics of menstruation. He knows that you bleed out of your vagina for a few days, and that often times, it's an uncomfortable and painful time for your body. He knows that the fluctuations of your hormones brings on mood swings, and that you have to buy certain products to prevent you from getting blood everywhere.

"Ma," he calls, as soon as he walks through the door of your apartment. He's holding a bag of food in each of his hands. Food that you were craving and requested for him to pick up once he finished his job. Your door was unlocked so he knows you're not out, but you didn't answer him. He put the food down on the dining room table and went on to look for you. He didn't have to look too hard, because you were in your bedroom, the first room he checked.

"Doll?" He calls, again. "I brought the food you asked for. Don't you wanna eat?" He watches you from the doorway. You look down, very much so, and he knows there's something wrong because you answered him with the smallest shake of your head. He hates seeing you all curled up and seemingly lifeless like this. Your body is drowned by one of his hoodies and you're wearing your baggiest sweatpants. Though it looks comfortable, it's way too hot for you to be so covered up. He makes his way over to your bed and sits beside you. "What's up, mama? Why aren't you hungry, anymore?" He gently squeezes your hip a couple times, hoping maybe it'll make you turn to face him, but you don't. You stay curled up.

"My stomach hurts," you say, unsure of whether he heard you or not. All you know is that if he asked you to repeat yourself, you wouldn't out of frustration. You would just shake your head and go back to hurting in silence.

"Did you eat something bad?" He pauses, a small smile curling onto his lips as something else comes to mind. "Baby... have you eaten anything at all, today?" He knows sometimes you forget to eat because you get so distracted by everything else you have going on, and that pit in your stomach often makes you nauseous.

"No, it's not that. I'm on my period." You internally cringe at the use of the word. Despite the power behind being able to put up with this every single month, you can't help but feel fragile and weak at the thought of letting Toji in on it.

"Oh, doll... You should've told me this before. I would've showed up with much fuller hands." He lays on his side, and wraps his body around yours. His leg goes over yours and his hand goes beneath your hoodie and presses against your stomach. "So, your guts are mad that I didn't put a baby in you?" He says, into your back.

"Yeah, a bit," you say, thinking of the stomach clutching cramps you've had for the past couple hours.

"Damn, that's terrible. What about you, huh? Are you mad that I didn't put a baby in you?" He asks, a smile on his lips forming through the unserious question.

You can't deny that, occasionally, you've wondered what your DNA would look like mixed with Toji's in the form of a child. You always envision the cutest little boy with Toji's intense, green eyes and your beautiful hair, and Toji's sharp nose, and your pretty skin tone. You think of how much you would love him, and how you would take on that role of being a devoted and loving mother. You think of how attached you would become to the little munchkin, enough to assume that you would be the one crying on his first day of school, not your child.

"Of course not. I'm not ready to be a mom," you respond, lowly.

Toji would be lying if he said he didn't see himself having kids with you. He often imagines how you would look holding a baby girl that shares a mixture of his and your features. Part of him hopes that your graceful beauty shines, prominently, through those tiny features, but he also knows that it wouldn't be the end of the world if the child ended up looking more like him. To see you holding a mini him would heal something that runs deep in his soul. Regardless of whether your child looks like him or you or it's the perfect blend of both of you, he knows that he'll be begging to cradle them again and again, even if they are the reason he'll be losing sleep. He'll lunge towards them when they stumble and fall, he'll soothe them when they can't sleep, and he'll bear with the messiness and the unstable emotions.

"Good, 'cause..." he sighs and coils even tighter around you. You're starting to feel hot with all those heavy layers on and the additional source of heat that clings to you from behind. "I need to keep you to myself for a much longer while. I can't imagine sharing you with someone else." He smiles when you laugh quietly at the small poke offered to your stomach. "At least, not right now, 'kay?"

"Yeah, okay," you respond, genuinely glad that he feels the way he does. You don't feel ready to take that enormous step either.

"I know that means your periods will keep coming every month, but I can help you in any way you ask me to. You just have to let me know, mama." His voice conveys sincerity and concern. He's serious about you, but he can't stand being shut out like this on things that pertain to your wellbeing.

You wiggle out of his hold and flip over to face him. You smile at him as best you can, despite the storm you feel in your stomach.

"You look small, doll." He chuckles at the way you bring a sleeved hand towards his face. The sleeves of his hoodie are enormous and puffy around your arms.

"Yeah... your sweater was the only thing that was helping, earlier. I felt like the cramps were gonna kill me so I curled up in this because it smells like you."

His smile is so soft. He loves hearing that he was your best source of comfort while you were in pain. "Well, i'm here, now, so you can take that off and curl up with the real thing."

"Mm..." you drop your hand to his chest. "This is keeping me warm and it fits huge on me, so i'm comfortable."

"Come on. I'm warmer and I fit so much bigger on you than this." He grabs the material of his sweater and extends it away from your waist, before letting it go and watching it melt back into a bulky pile on you. "Yeah, this is nothing compared to me, doll. When i'm on top of you, you completely disappear."

You sigh, as if he isn't tempting you at all, but you can already picture the warmth of his body heat and it sounds absolutely divine. "Fine, fine," you grumble, sitting up to pull off the enormous blanket you had been wearing for the past three hours and tossing it towards the end of your bed.

"So, that's why you didn't wanna take it off?" He's no better than the strangers who ogle your body when he takes you out for a date night. Your chest is holding his attention like a puppy with its favorite toy.

"Told you I was comfortable," you say, fixing the twisted strap of your bra before laying back down.

"Did you not want me to see you like this?" He asks, feeling the bare skin of your waist beneath his palm.

"I just feel really gross, Toji. I showered twice and I still feel like I stink, my skin isn't clear, and my body hurts. I never want you to see me this way, but I can't stay away from you every time I go through this."

He sees this as the perfect moment for him to become your heat radiating weighted blanket, and he seizes the opportunity, splaying over you like a net before contracting his limbs around you. He really is bigger than that hoodie with the way he makes your entire body vanish beneath his.

"This..." you laugh, the sound coming out a little choppy due to the newly added weight. "...is much better," you say, your voice a little strained.

"Listen," he says. What he wants to say to you is really important, and he needs you to absorb the information as clearly as possible, so he thinks it's best if his lips are right beneath your ear, just so you don't miss a word he says. "You smell reallyyy good, but you shouldn't be scrubbing your skin raw with too many showers. Also, I didn't even notice the little pimples on your skin 'til you pointed them out. Not that it matters to me, but your skin will clear up in a couple days." He grins at the little giggles that leave you and the slight shake of your shoulders that accompany the sound. "And about the pain... just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you. Anything but a heating pad, because I like whaling on you like this." He pulls away and takes note of the beaming smile on your face. "You heard all of that, right?" He asks, making sure you're not just letting his words go over your head.

"Mhm." You hum, in response. Your hands cup his jaw and pull him closer to you. You pause when he's mere centimeters away from you and just look up at him, adoration clear in your eyes. His gaze flits between your eyes and your lips. You've always been so enticing and appealing to him, regardless of the nonsensical remarks you make about yourself. Toji has every intention of proving that he'll love you the same all the time. This time of the month is no exception.

With a lick to his bottom lip, he takes the leap and kisses you first. You smile as his lips move slowly and gently in tandem with yours. You feel a lot better with Toji around. It feels like he actually melted away your cramps with his presence. You can enjoy him because the pain in your stomach isn't as intense anymore.

He can feel the change in pace of your affection. You're kissing him faster, your hands are balling up the back of his shirt, and your breathing is getting heavier. He decides to take it step further and slides his hands beneath the cups of your bra.

"Does that hurt?" He asks, knowing that it's possible that your breasts feel tender.

"Not at all. Please, keep going. You can even squeeze a little harder," you say, a small laugh following.

"Alright, baby. You wanna take your bra off so I can get in there real good?"

You're a little nervous about where this is headed. You can feel the neediness growing between your thighs, and him touching your breasts like that is only fueling the flame. You don't know if he's innocently trying to soothe the tenderness that vanished a day before the waterfall of blood began or if he's just trying to cop a feel. All you know is that it feels good and that it's a risky decision to take your bra off even if you've already decided to remove it.

"Yeah, I'll take it off," you say, using your elbows to assist you in sitting up. He sits back on his knees as you reach behind you, towards the clasps of your bra. You take a little longer when you notice how he's staring at your chest in anticipation, practically hypnotized as he waits for you to free your tits. You swear you saw his tongue peek out to lick his bottom lip. Those naturally bright eyes of his are dark, the color almost entirely swallowed whole by his enlarged pupils. You have to try not to laugh at how strong his focus is as the cups slide down your chest and the strap ride down your arm.

"Fuuuck, look at you." He's practically drooling as he reaches his hand out to touch. He instantly feels the warmth and softness of your right breast engulf his hand. "You've got a really pretty body, doll. You know I love taking care of it," he purrs, crawling back onto you. You're pushed back onto the bed. Your head falls into the pillows, and you're instantly surrounded by Toji. He leans down, his lips brushing over your jaw while his hands busy themselves with your breasts. "You can't scare me off with a little bit of blood, pretty girl. You can't scare me off at all," he murmurs, letting his lips roam towards your neck. He rolls your buds between his fingers, smirking at the way you shudder at the more intense stimulation. "That feel good?" He asks, hearing the low hums coming from you.

"Mhm... it does." Your cunt throbs with need as he continues tweaking your nipples, brushing them with his thumbs, rolling them with index fingers before pressing them a little. He sucking on that sensitive spot on your neck, really putting in the work to make you want him, badly. "T-Toji..." you whimper.

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl. Just wanna help you feel better." A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest at the feeling of you squeezing your thighs around his waist, chasing friction for your needy cunt. "Need some help with that? Want me to rub your little clit?"

You're too distracted by the pleasure you derive from grinding against his lower abdomen to notice his hand leaving one of your breasts and trailing down your stomach. Just as his fingers go beneath the waistband of your sweatpants, you snap out of your daze.

"No, wait- That's dirty," you say, scooting backwards.

"What are you talking about?" He asks, rhetorically. "It's a part of you. I don't care if any part of me gets covered in your blood."

You look away from him, flustered by his admission. You've never allowed him to touch you down there while you're on your period. This might have been the first time you've directly told him about it, too, so before then, he was just left to assume.

"I'm not a pea brained little boy, and you're not gross for this, baby. Just let me help you feel better."

You contemplate it for a few seconds. You've never done it like this before. The mess would be extreme. You'll be overthinking the things that run through his mind the entire time. Would you even be capable of getting into the mindset necessary to enjoy it when you're so worried about what Toji's thinking?

"Please, mama. Let me make you feel good." He runs a hand over your shin, hoping to soothe your nerves about this.

Your thoughts were starting to loop from how much you were overthinking it. A whole lot of 'what is Toji going to think?' and 'what if he can't go through with it after seeing all of it?' swirling around in your head. The thoughts were going nowhere but down, so you eventually just let yourself go. "Okay," you respond. "Can I just have a minute before we..." you raise your brows, allowing the gesture to finish your sentence.

"Yeah, of course. Take your time." He retracts his hand, allowing you to rise off the bed and make your way to the bathroom.

You're nervous. You don't know what would compel Toji to want to do something like this. You'll accept that it's for your benefit, but what does he gain from this apart from getting a blood covered dick? You know he won't put on a condom. He practically whines every time you tell him to either put a condom on or pull out. Neither of those options are viable for him, so he sweet talks you until you let him go in raw and cum inside you. He always thanks you for staying on birth control. His appreciation is genuine, too. It's not just some douchey speech where he says 'thank you for taking pills so I don't have to stress about cumming inside you'. It's a real, hug and kiss, 'I love you' deserving, appreciation.

You walk out of the bathroom after removing your menstrual product, wearing just the panties you had on and your darkest colored towel wrapped around your hips. That pair of underwear is not your prettiest pair, so you're fine with ruining them so that you don't ruin your carpet on your walk back to the bed.

"Everything alright?" Toji asks, eyes glued on you the second the bathroom door opened.

"Yeah. All good," you assure, sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt as anxious as you did the first time you and Toji had sex together. It was visible in the way you kept your eyes on your folded hands and how you toyed with your thumbs.

"Don't be nervous, baby. It's just like every other time." He smiles at you as you continue to stare at your lap. "You wanna put the towel down?"

"Oh, yeah." The second the towel is unwrapped from your lower body, you feel your anxiety double, knowing that the stain on your underwear is visible. He can see you crossing your legs to try and hide the stain. It's cute, but futile, since he'll see it much more clearly in a few seconds. You're unnecessarily straightening the corners, as if the towel isn't going to be moving around once things get going.

"Good. Now, lay down for me," Toji instructs, the words making your heart drop. "Need you to get all comfortable."

You hesitantly crawl onto the towel and lay on your stomach, concealing the stain on the front of your underwear.

"Flip over, doll. Wanna look at that pretty face." He can tell you're doing everything you can to hide what he expected and already saw. You flip onto your back and cross your legs. "Come on, pretty girl. Don't be embarrassed. It's just me."

You sigh and uncross your legs. Seconds go by and your cheeks are scorching, embarrassment coursing through you so fluidly, not knowing that the sight makes Toji feral. The color, the fact that you're free bleeding and the stain is growing as time goes by, the shame it brings you from not being able to stop it. It's all going straight to his dick. It was already straining in his boxers, but now it's throbbing.

"Good girl," he praises, running his hands up and down your thighs. You feel hot under his gaze. He's not making his attention to your stained underwear subtle at all. You just want to put a pillow over your head and let him do what he has planned.

"You're so cute," he says, reaching a hand towards the loud color between your thighs. He feels the warm wetness beneath his thumb as he tests the waters and rubs your clit through the scarlet tainted garment. He watches you squirm at the touch, your stomach rising and falling erratically at the stimulation. "So warm, baby." He can see the color adhering to the edges of his thumb as he continues to stroke your throbbing clit.

"Toji..." you gasp.

"Yeah, baby. I know."

The smallest pinch between your brows appears as the stimulation continues. It's slow enough to keep you comfortable, but you want more, so you attempt to trap his hand between your thighs so that you can get off on it.

"Open, doll. Keep your pretty legs open for me." He grins at the shuddered breath you release as you release his hand.

"P-Please, Toji. Please, more," you whimper, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your peak.

He's notices how the blood reached higher up the front of your underwear. Right over where he's rubbing your clit, the material is soggy beneath his fingers.

"I'm gonna make you cum all you want, but not like this," he says, abruptly stopping the movement of his fingers. He bows forward and kisses from your slightly heaving mid-center to your lower abdomen. The irony smell of your blood is heavier as he nears the elastic of your panties.

"Let's get these off," he murmurs, hooking his fingers into the garment. Your heart is racing all over again at the thought of him seeing the whole thing, uncensored. The uncontrollable drip of your blood, the messy aftermath of it being smeared and played with by his fingers over the thin barrier of your underwear. It's not presentable, compared to what he got from you every moment before this one. Far from it, but he proceeds with his fearless curiosity, dragging your panties down your hips and thighs, above your knees and swiftly down the rest of the way. He puts them down beside you on the towel before carrying on with you.

In no way would he ever try to embarrass you over something like this, especially since he knows you're more emotionally sensitive right now and even the smallest amount of teasing might hit a little harder than intended. He looks at the overload of red smeared all over your cunt, on the folds, lathered over and through your slit, and streaked over your inner thighs. All he can think about is how cursed you must feel every once in a while to have to go through this every month. He's not stupid enough to think alike to those men who say they would bear the pain a lot better than women and that it's nothing compared to being kicked in the balls. He would take the pain for you in a heartbeat, but since science hasn't progressed so far to make that option a reality, he'll do what he can to help you in other ways.

You watch, intently, as Toji observes what he's seen plenty of times before. You feel different from every one of those times, despite him telling you that this time will be no different. You feel like your heart is about to lurch from your chest because all he's doing is looking. You know it's unappealing. You would give yourself to him entirely clean in this moment if you could.

"I wanna bury my face in there so badly. You know that?" He's so hard at the sight. His dick is twitching at the thought of using his tongue to clean you up. "I'll make it up to you in a couple days," he says, working his constricting boxers off. "Gonna feast on you. Hold these pretty thighs back when you try to crush my skull."

You don't think you've ever felt so withheld by him. Here he is, about to fuck you during one of the few days you refrain from letting him touch you this way, while talking about how badly he wants to devour you. You wouldn't call it unfair of him to tease you with this promise, he just has no other choice. Normally, his mouth is the first thing he gives you when things are getting hot and heavy, but for now, he can only use that mouth to kiss you and verbalize his desire.

"Don't look so nervous, doll," he says, his voice honeyed and his touch gentle on your skin, like he's shooing away all those negative thoughts that threaten your ability to enjoy this. "This is me taking care of you."

Toji did a good job of making you forget that this wasn't just normal sex. You were fed assurance, visually, audibly, and tactically. The second he thrusted into you and felt your incredibly warm and wet walls cling around him, his gaze darted up to meet your eyes. He looked back down for a split second when his hips pulled back, just to see the way you coated his shaft.

He understands that this is intense for you, that you're presenting yourself in a vulnerable state to him, but he's determined to make you understand that he will always try for you. It comes down to him knowing your wants and needs, and when they aren't so transparent, he counts on you to trustfully tell him about the things he can't openly assume.

He's overly generous with your pleasure, going on and on for you, chasing your orgasms with no intention of stopping until you tell him you've had enough. "Come on..." he groans, a deep chuckle following when he sees the way your arms are thrown over your face. "Come on, doll. Give me some attention." He's saying this because he's about to cum, again. He wants to look at you as he spews another load into you. He wants to see the expression on your face when you feel his cum overfill you, again. You lift your arms above your head and expose the way your chest heaves even more to him, but more importantly, the weary and glassy eyes he loves so much.

"Yeah, fuck... Just give me those eyes for a while, gorgeous." He's panting and his hips are stuttering as he stares you down, his lust-filled gaze giving you the illusion of being pressed into the mattress. One hand splays over your waist while the other focuses on nudging at your clit.

The added stimulation makes you jolt beneath his touch. It's heavenly and you want more, and you're right there. "F-Fuck... Fuck, please... Please!" you beg, feeling like you're melting beneath his touch. Your nails dig into the pillow beneath your head in an attempt to stay still for him.

"I know, mama. I know. I got you," he coos through choppy breaths, rubbing your clit fast enough to have you squirming against him. He watches dazedly as fresh crimson decorates his fingertips, anew. The pace of his hips becomes sporadic with his own peak nearing. He's about to bust again with the way your gummy, lubricated walls snuggly wrap around him.

With just a couple more thrusts and the ongoing stimulation offered to your clit, you gush all over him again, a mixture of your cum and blood rushing out of you and onto him before dripping onto the towel beneath you. "Oh my- T-Toji, oh fuck!" Your back arches off the bed, your head thrown back into the pillow as you cry out in pure ecstasy.

Toji is pulling you into his quickened thrusts, putting your tired, pretty body to work so that he can finish, too. He's following after you just a minute later, a deep, growl-like groan leaving him as more of his thick cum is shot into your ruined cunt. His chest rises and falls, long, heavy breaths exhaled through his parted lips. his neck glistens with sweat and dampened strands of hair stick to his forehead.

"How are your guts?" He asks, his words still somewhat breathy as he works to recompose himself after pulling out of you.

"Good," you respond, echoing back that tiredness. "Out of place, but good. That... that did it. No more pain." You think that if you shut your eyes for longer than ten seconds, you'll doze off. As if Toji would let you wake up feeling dirtier than you did before you let him get his hands on you.

"Hey," he calls, tapping your outer thigh. You hum in disapproval of having to open your eyes again. "Doll, we have to get you cleaned up." He taps you again.

"Five minutes," you whine, shutting your eyes tightly before pulling the pillow out from beneath your head and throwing it over your face.

"None of the whining, mama. It's for the best and you know it." He doesn't go on because you don't respond, presumably dozed off. He pulls the pillow off your face and becomes the target of your pointed gaze when light floods your vision again. "I'm not gonna stop bugging you until you get up." He's fighting the urge to tease you about wanting a kiss for that alluring pout on your lips. "Don't you wanna take a nice and cool shower with me?"

"I'm stuck," you groan, exaggeratedly dropping your arm after your feigned weak attempt to move more than a couple inches. "Can't... move."

"Your level of drama outshines the best actors, doll. I see right through it."

You can't even hold back a giggle at that. You clutch your chest and continue on with the theatrics. "Ouch. My stomach doesn't hurt anymore, but there's suddenly a really sharp pain in my chest. So, this is what taken back love feels like, huh?"

Toji snickers at the sound of your pathetic words as he crosses the ends of the towel over your lower body. Once the towel is wrapped securely, his arm goes beneath your knees, and the other settles on your lower back. With one swift motion, he lifts you off the bed and starts for the bathroom. He knew you had no intention of moving on your own, so he took the initiative. "Now you're a poet? You would never make it through heartbreak poetry." He looks down at you with a sly grin. "You would be making it all up, because you know how much I love your dramatic self."

You laugh. "Yeah... i'll never be a heartbreak poet." You don't sound like you're at a loss at all. You said it with a smile on your face. You've never been more happy to have lost a path like that.

"That's too bad, isn't it?"

[noxtivagus]

i shld really fix that spam account n use it more often bcs oh my god i really often ramble just like this

[daenysx]

imagine giving james a skincare sesh where reader is seated comfortably (on his lap ehm) and he lets her put all sorts of moisturizers, face masks and even lip balm on him and he secretly LOVES it and after they eat homemade cookies and watch their comfort show

thank you for requesting!! i had so much fun writing this, it's my skincare routine applied to james. i guess that means he's literally my boyfriend now (support my delusions please <3333) you can send me requests for james!

james potter x fem!reader, fluff

"are you ready?" you say, grinning. you carried most of your skincare essentials to living room, ready to give your tired boyfriend a nice spa day.

"yes." james walks out of the bathroom. "i washed my face."

"with the cleansing jel?"

"yes, baby." he sits on the couch next to you. you place yourself on his lap expertly, his face looks dry and clean. you lean to give him a kiss on his cheek, james settles down on couch with his back to pillows.

"okay." you say, clapping your hands. you're excited to give him a nice treating, he deserves all the best. you've never understood how boys have clear and smooth skin naturally, james certainly doesn't use as many products as you do, but he lets you do anything you want to him. skincare is like a therapy for you, quality minutes you spend on yourself. it's relaxing, taking care of your body without a single thought in your mind, you want james to experience it, too.

"let me just pull your hair back first." you say quietly, using tiny hairclips to secure his curls.

"why are you whispering?" he asks, whispering.

"i wanna create a relaxing ambience for you." you answer. "whispering is a part of it."

"oh." he teases. "okay."

you take your face toner in your hand, pouring some of it on a cotton pad. "close your eyes, jamie." you say, start applying it on his skin.

james relaxes into the pillow, his hands keep you balanced on his thighs. he likes how excited you get to take care of him, he likes being spoiled by you. your fingers are gentle on his face, almost invisible.

"now i'm gonna put on a face mask, handsome." you say, tearing the package of the mask. "it can feel a bit cold."

"that's okay." he mumbles. you place the mask on his skin carefully, adjusting the sides to cover his entire face. "what does this do?"

"um," you read the package. "it's for hydration mostly, and it has vitamin c in it."

"cool." he has no idea what vitamin c does for skin.

"we're gonna wait for 15 minutes." you say. "can i massage your hands while we wait?"

this must be some kind of special heaven for james. he gives you his hands blindly, you put on hand cream on the back of his hands and start rubbing it nicely on his skin.

james sometimes complains about how rough his hands feel, he washes them a lot and always neglects applying moisturizer. the cream feels good, like he has the skin of a baby now. you're being really sweet on him, he likes the way his muscles loosen up under your fingers.

"you're an angel." he says, a deep sound coming from his throat when you press a tight spot between his thumb and forefinger. "my fucking angel."

you smile, giving the same care to his other hand. james feels his hands go numb when you're finished. you clean the remnants of the cream on your hands before taking the mask off his face. "there you go." you put the used mask aside. "feels good?"

"i feel like a baby."

you laugh. "you're gonna be like a baby when i'm done."

it's a nice promise, james likes it very much. "i'm gonna apply some under eye cream now." you whisper. "you have no dark circles, i'm so jealous."

"it's because i actually have a sleeping schedule, lovely girl." he smiles. "something you lack, you know."

"hmm."

you massage his face a little bit before applying some moisturizer. you don't think any more products are needed for james, his skin is already perfect and the mask takes care of a lot of things. you want his face to be relaxed, so you keep your fingers on his cheeks. he smiles a lot, there are little lines on the corners of his lips and eyes that start forming. you can't help yourself, you kiss his lips softly. he immediately reacts but you pull yourself back, focusing on your work.

"what's the point of relaxing if i'm not gonna get a kiss?" james frowns.

"you'll get your kisses." you promise. "when i'm done."

applying moisturizer is so easy, his skin is glowing now. you make sure you cover every little spot on his face. "it smells good." he says. you nod even though his eyes are closed. "it really does." you say.

"and now," you put the cream away. "lip mask."

"lip mask?" james opens his eyes. "how will i kiss you if i have something on my lips?"

you laugh at his dramatics. "it never stopped you before. you always ruin my lipstick, remember?"

"not the same thing."

"come on, be a good boy for once." you tease. james parts his lips in shock. "once? this is a vile accusation."

you stop him, putting on a tiny bit of lip mask on his lips. he presses his lips together clumsily. "it tastes nice. is that strawberry?"

"you're not supposed to eat it!" you laugh. "leave some of it at least."

"mm, okay." he says. you fix his hair, and put a kiss on his cheek. you hand him the remote before leaving his lap. "i'm gonna bring you some cookies, can you pick a show?"

james nods, watches you clean up the mess through sleepy eyes. his skin has never felt this soft, he wants to pinch his own cheeks. he opens up the show you both like as he waits for you.

you come back with a plate full of cookies. james pulls you into his lap again. "i'm gonna eat just one." he says smugly. "i can't ruin my lip mask and i don't want crumbs on my face."

you laugh. "you're getting really good at this skincare thing."

"thanks to my angel." he says, he kisses your cheek three times. "i love you so much."

"i love you, too, baby." you say, your hand in his curls. "i can do it anytime you want."

"good, because i don't think i can go on without this anymore." he says like it's so obvious. "now, i remember i was promised kisses."

you settle down on his lap. "i don't wanna ruin your lip mask."

"it's not ruining, babe." he disagrees. "i'm willingly sharing my lip mask with you."

you laugh until your chest hurts.

[teaboot]

Forgive me if you’ve already answered something similar but how do you deal with crushing guilt when you did fuck up but there’s not really anything you can do to like make amends or you’ve already done anything you could and still feel guilty?

Like I know the guilt isn’t productive at all, if anything it’s just paralyzing me, and mentally beating myself up over it isn’t actually helping anyone. But I don’t know where to go from there. Idk how to actually forgive myself, or at least be able to move on

CW FOR SELF HARM

Okay, so this is something I've had to work through for a very long time myself, and there's a few different strategies that I've used to cope and process with varying levels of success.

What I used to do was handle the "I've ruined everything and hurt people and am never going to be forgiven" feeling by hurting myself in a number of creative and stupid ways, from physical hurt (Everything you'd expect) to mental hurt (wallowing, speaking badly of myself, going over the bad thing over and over again in my head) to passive hurt (neglecting my health, not eating properly, failing to pursue good living conditions, letting others hurt me, deliberately wandering into risky situations) and despite any short-term relief or peace I got, none of it ultimately fixed anything.

At the end of the day, making myself suffer as retribution or apology didn't fix the thing I'd done and didn't make the guilt go away, and all it gave me was an additional sense of shame and isolation because now not only was I a garbage person, I was a garbage person with something to hide from my loved ones. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

The stuff that DID help was harder and is going to sound stupid because *I thought it was stupid* until it worked for me.

First: Learn the difference between GUILT and SHAME.

GUILT is how you feel about your choices.

SHAME is how you feel about yourself.

"I was late to a date again, that was inconsiderate": GUILT. The issue can be resolved by analyzing the reason behind the action and planning steps to avoid repeating it in the future. Guilt is productive because it motivates us to improve our choices. Once you've corrected the behaviour, it's over.

A"I was late to a date again, I'm inconsiderate": SHAME. The issue can be resolved by asking ourselves:

What negative thing to I believe about myself?

What other experiences support this belief? What evidence do I have that the bad thing is true?

Do those previous experiences have anything in common? Where they actually proof of a personal lack, or did someone just tell me they were? Were my choices and actions understandable? Did I have a reason? Was I trying to hurt others, or was it a mistake, accident, or learning experience? Have I grown from that experience?

Can I forgive myself for the past? What do I need to do to forgive myself for those past events? Was I really at fault at all, or was it out of my control?

Accept that.

Your present traumas and shames often have roots in beliefs you had about yourself before the new shameful thing occurred. When you dig into resolving the issues that led to today, you can use those conclusions to work through tomorrow. This is something I learned in cognitive behavioral therapy.

There are a number of ways of unpacking these questions, but as I felt I was deliberately avoiding my thoughts and feelings, I chose to jump into them directly, and found it to be effective.

You can write things down, talk to someone, paint something, draw something, whatever. Whatever at all works for you.

My solutions was to find a comfortable place on the floor, sit down, close my eyes, and do box-breathing (in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4) while deliberately thinking about every upsetting memory attached to a specific bad belief that I could recall until I had nothing left to go over.

Judge and jury. Was I a bad person, or did I make a mistake? Did I have malicious intentions, or did someone accuse me of malicious intentions? Am I bad, or have I been conditioned to believe I'm bad? And at the end of it all, am I capable of better? Do I want to be better? And would a truly bad person care?

It was more emotional than I expected the first few times. Cried a lot, actually. But if I can liken it to a common feeling, it was like getting out of a very thorough shower and realizing you didn't know how dirty you were before.

The process sucks ass, no lie, but it's worth it. Like draining pus from a gnarly wound to get it healed up properly.

I'm not an expert, of course, but life has gotten better since I started. I'm better at forgiving myself, at least.

Also: Some people will never forgive others even for tiny things. Sometimes once you've done your best, you've just gotta say "fuck 'em". C'est la vie, mon amie.

Good luck, yeah?

♡

[cassandraclare]

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

[her-favorite]

THE EYES IN IOWA; LEE

LEE X F!(NON-EATER)READER

warnings: (very vague) references to cannibalism (it’s b&a, do i even need to add this?), honestly, this is more cute than anything else, so.. fluff!!

wc: 2667

a/n: lee is my fav timmy character so i get soo excited when i get a lee request 🤭 i hope you like this anon! i had sm fun writing this; i’d love some more lee stuff in my inbox!!

SYNOPSIS: You felt the eyes on you, but you forced yourself to brush it off. You came to realize that was hard to do when the eyes came to you.

-

You’ve always been a careful person.

You’ve always looked both ways before you crossed the street; you’ve always checked expiration dates before you bought certain foods; and you’ve always took in your surroundings when you left the house.

Which confused you why you couldn’t see the man following you.

As you stalked the aisles in the store, your eyes gazed by each product on the shelf, waiting to find the one you came here for. When nothing caught your eye, you sighed and began to walk away. As soon as you turned your head to glance back, your eyes caught on a figure a couple feet behind you. You turned back around before you could bump into someone, but the faded red curly hair quickly stuck out in your mind. As well as the baggy clothes and the ripped jeans. You couldn’t get much of a look at his face, but you did notice that his head was turned towards you.

Looking down at your shoes as you walked away, you tried not to let it get to you. Letting out a deep breath, you kept walking towards the exit.

Rounding a corner, you ignore the footsteps behind you and convince yourself they were anybody else’s. When dirty white shoes fill your eyesight, you had no choice but to look up.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering where the candy aisle was?” His voice was smooth, something you weren’t expecting to like. His red hair stuck out in front of the bright white walls behind him, his dirty sleeveless graphic tee hung loosely on his body, putting his arms on display. His baggy jeans hung around his thin waist, just barely giving you a peek of the black boxers that hid the v-line that began to start. The holes in the blue material were large around his knees, showcasing his pale skin.

“Uh, it’s right over.. there.” You turn around and point to the right. With your back facing him, you had no idea if he was listening to you, but you could only hope.

“Right, thanks.” He replies, his voice, against your better judgment, slightly soothing your worries. When you turned around to face him again, your eyes immediately met his. He was already staring at you. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.” The man moves slightly, switching his weight to his opposite foot.

You quickly shut down his strange start to a conversation, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen you around here.” You deny, ringing your hands together anxiously as you subtly try to find the exit.

He seemed to pick up on your demeanor as he licks his lips, taking a moment to watch you. “Alright, well, thanks for telling me where the aisle is,” He breaks the silence and points in the same direction you had minutes ago. You nod, deciding to break the staring contest you had with your shoes to meet his eyes. They were a deep green, captivating you instantly. In a certain light, you would’ve been fooled they were brown instead. “Catch you around?” He says, as if he’s genuinely hoping he’ll see you soon.

You nod again and give him a smile before walking around him, darting towards the exit. Once you leave the store, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Fresh air hits you as you walk through the parking lot, your mind racing.

Maybe you were just overthinking the entire situation. Maybe he wasn’t following you, maybe he just wanted to ask someone - who just so happened to be you - where the candy was in a store he was unfamiliar with. You forced yourself to go with that answer as you pulled the drivers side door shut, relaxing back in your seat. Before you could finish your deep breath, two knocks sounded from beside you.

Jumping up from your spot, you look to your left at your rolled up window. The same man from inside stood before you, his hand now lowering from the glass. His lips parted as he began to speak, but it was quickly muffled from the barrier between you both.

Against your better judgment, you rolled down the window, the summer breeze hitting you gently.

“Hey, sorry to bother again, but you dropped these while you were leaving.” The words left his mouth perfectly, almost as if he were rehearsing them beforehand. He brings his hand back up, your keys hanging on his pointer finger. You couldn’t help but notice the tattoos on his fingers, admiring the ink that stained his pale skin.

“Oh, thank you,” you reply. You realized that you hadn’t even looked for your keys when you entered your car, too busy thinking about the man that’s currently standing beside your car.

You started to reach out for them, when he suddenly pulled his hand away. “What’s your name?” You were caught off guard by his question, not expecting the words to leave him. You stared at him for a couple seconds before he continued, “I’m Lee.” He introduced himself, looking at you through your opened window, his eyes squinted slightly from the blinding sun.

You sigh lightly before replying, “Y/N.” You notice a small smirk form on his lips when you decide to answer him.

“Pretty.” Lee mumbles, taking a glance at the keys in his hands before looking back at you. “Actually,” he continues, bringing a hand up to his hair, brushing his fingers through it. “I was wondering if you could drive me somewhere, or even just take me with you. My car,” he turns and points to an old, blue pickup truck a couple feet away. “Broke down and I can’t call anyone or take it anywhere, so,” he purses his lips and shrugs loosely, his body language seeming to be very careless.

You noticed that he still held onto your keys as he explained his situation to you, no candy or anything in his hands or pockets. There wasn’t much harm he could do to you without a weapon, right?

Knowing you already lost the battle as soon as he stepped up to you in that store, you nod your head in agreement. “Yeah, sure. I can take you somewhere to get it towed if you’d like?” You offered, watching his reaction.

“Sounds great, thanks.” He smiles, showcasing his pearly whites. You silently admire the smile lines he has, adding to his already charismatic personality. He rounds the front of your car before hopping into the passenger seat, handing you your keys. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize I still had them.” Lee apologizes, watching you start the engine.

A minute or two pass by as you begin to pull out of the parking lot and turn on the radio. The soft hum of the music flows alongside the wind that passed through the car from the open windows. It was a beautiful day outside, the sun shining, birds singing and kids running around, chasing each other or playing on the playground. It was the perfect weather for a walk or a swim, something you now wish you had. As you slowly got lost in your thoughts, you watched the road ahead of you, not paying attention to the man beside you.

Lee never took his eyes off of you once, unless it was to turn if you took a glance at him. There was just something so intriguing about you to him, but he couldn’t place it. He has never spent more than five minutes looking for someone to fall victim to him before, but he’s spent two whole days on watching you. Had he not been a killer, he would’ve beat himself up for being so weird and stalking you the past 48 hours. But there’s not much else he can do that’s worse than what he’s doing now, he reminds himself.

As he observes the way your hands slide over the wheel; the way your eyebrows furrow when a car goes when it’s not supposed to; the way you relax back in your seat when you stop at a red light; or even just looking forward at the road, he realizes how beautiful you are. He can’t go through with this, he thinks. He can’t harm you, his body won’t let him. He knows your name now, he’s been in your car, in your head… he can’t hurt you.

Clearing his throat, he sits up and reaches over to turn the radio up. His washed out curls rest against the headrest as he closes his eyes, feeling the cool breeze hit his skin.

You take a glance over at him, quickly memorizing the picture of him. His nose arches perfectly as his eyelashes lay softly, his hair blowing slightly from the air, the piercing in his ear shining from hitting the sun, and his Adam’s apple sticking out as his neck is pushed out from his position. You bring your eyes back to the road in front of you, thankful that no other cars were near. You let your tense shoulders start to calm as you slowly drift into the music playing, licking your lips as they started to dry from the wind.

“You’re really beautiful,” had the radio been up a notch higher, the words would’ve passed by you. You quickly look over at him, smiling softly and noticing that he was already looking at you. You quietly thank him, looking back at the street, a straight road in front of you for a couple minutes.

“You’re not too bad,” you reply, laughing slightly to show him not to take you too seriously. Your smile grew when you heard a chuckle escape his lips, a deep but comforting sound you’d like to hear more of. You felt a nudge to your thigh in response to your teasing reply, noticing the tatted hand of his move back into his lap.

“Thanks, ma.” Lee smiles, looking at you and then in front of him, watching the trees and houses go by. The name catches you off guard, but doesn’t upset you. If anything, you try not to smile wider at the unexpected endearment.

As you take a right, you notice a sign for a car shop coming up. You point to it, “do you wanna stop there and pick up your truck?” You spare a glance at him as he follows your finger, quickly reading the small letters on the even smaller sign.

“Nah, it’s fine. I can go back later and pick it up. She’ll still be there, I’m sure.” He chuckles softly and runs his fingers through his curls, picking out a knot or two.

“You sure?” You doublecheck but agree once he nods his head again, looking over at you to make eye contact. “Okay… do you want me to drop you off anywhere? Your house?” You look over at him, gazing into his eyes for any type of emotion.

“Uh, I don’t really have much besides my truck. Kinda been livin’ with her the past few months, taking drives everywhere and nowhere, ya know?” Lee rambles, leaning back in the seat, looking over at you to gage your reaction. You nod in understanding, taking a deep breath as you try and figure out what to say.

“You can.. stay at mine? I mean, I just moved in so there’s not much furniture, but,” you shrug, “i’m sure it’s better than sleeping in a car all the time.” You suggest kindly, looking over once before moving back to the road, nervous for his rejection.

Lee watches the way you avoid his eyes, taking in your body language. He wants to accept your offer more than anything, for more reasons than one. But, deep down, he knows he shouldn’t. The urge inside him was going to get stronger the more he stayed with you… but what’s wrong with being selfish for once in awhile? He couldn’t remember the last time he’s felt this normal, besides with his sister Kayla, which he now came to realize he should probably visit her soon.

“You sure? I snore.” He teases, smiling as he watches your lips curl up. If your smile was the last thing he ever saw, he could go peacefully.

“I’m sure. I’m a blanket hogger,” you grin, laughing softly as you tease him back. He playfully groans and throws himself back in his seat.

“Oh, great.” He states loudly, drawing in more laughs from you. Lee smiles fondly at your reaction to his jokes, silently hoping nothing will go wrong in the next couple hours. How could he have ever thought about using you for his insatiable desire? He was far too infatuated with you now.

-

Putting the car in park as you pull into your driveway, the sun begins to set. The sky was turning into a bluish-purple as the sun slowly hid itself away, the moon revealing as it moved higher in the sky.

You shut off your car as the radio cuts off and the engine stops. Your eyes meet Lee’s as he glances at you before opening his door. You copy his actions as you step out of the car, walking towards your front door. He follows you, his baggy jeans swaying against his legs. You unlock the door, opening it and stepping inside, leaving it open so he can join you.

“This is nice,” Lee says, gesturing to the room he was in. You laugh lightly at his words, turning back to look at him.

“I’m only halfway done with it, I still have a lot more in mind.” You reply, now looking around your living room, taking in the scarce amount of furniture and decor.

He shrugs, “it looks like you.”

“You don’t even know me.” You smile, looking over at him. You both stood a couple feet away from each other, eyes locked. A smirk forms on Lee’s face at your words, dirty shoes making contact with your floor as he makes his way over to you.

“Then let me get to know you.” He whispered, looking down at you. He looks down at your lips before moving his gaze back up to your eyes, watching you repeat his actions. You meet him halfway as you lean towards him, closing your eyes as your lips connect with his. You feel his big hands curl around your hips, squeezing the skin. You subconsciously move closer to him, moving your hands to rest on his neck, your dominant one reaching up to brush your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You pull away when the air dissipates from your lungs, but not moving far away from him. Your breath hits his as his lips stay inches away from yours. You open your eyes slowly, looking up into his. The green hypnotizes you as you stare into them, your hand moving from his hair to the side of his face.

“Why did you pick me, Lee?” You whisper, gently bringing him down a bit so you could rest your forehead against his.

“What do you mean?” He asks, matching your volume. A soft hum of music starts to fill the air, the radio you kept in your house just now starting to play, despite it being a couple minutes from when you turned it on.

“Why did you ask me - out of everyone in that store - where the candy aisle was? I saw you before you walked up to me.” You confess, starting to sway your body lightly to the music. He follows with you, copying your movements. His hands start to slide under your shirt, resting gently against your bare waist.

“Don’t know,” he shrugs slightly, his voice still quiet. “I guess you just captivated me the moment I saw you.” Lee responds, his thumb starting to rub soothing circles against your skin.

“Yeah?” You whisper, softer than before.

“Yeah.” Lee confirms.

[velvetures]

Doesn't Crease

A/N: Thanks to everyone supporting this new blog I've started working on. I'm really happy to see so many new people and get the chance to write some more. <3 Summary: You're just trying to keep Ghost from losing his eyesight from being purposefully ignorant. T/W: none :)

Looking out for the guys of the 141 typically meant doing things for them that most regular people wouldn’t even think twice about doing on a normal day. They often took care of weapons and missions far better than themselves, and it often resulted in you finding out that they appropriated objects or products for uses that had not a damn thing to do with what they used them for. And the most frustrating of all of them came from how you came to learn about Ghost’s eye paint, and how it stayed on so well for days on end.

You’d been in the Middle East for nearing five days and after being holed up in a cave just on the outskirts of a little town, a safe house was cleared for your use until the end of the mission. It was so damn good to have a shower and put on some clean clothes that you couldn’t have been in better spirits as you walked out of the bathroom into the living area and noticed Ghost sitting in a change of clothes and a much less dirty mask with his face half-painted in that unidentified stuff he used. You watched with an admitted interest as he dipped a couple fingers into a small plastic container that held the substance before smearing more over the bridge of his nose towards the uncovered left side of his face.

“Quit starin’.” he muttered lowly, still very focused on the task at hand and getting the stuff smeared over his eyelid and up to the waterline of his eye.

You didn’t particularly care to listen and just sat down across from him and pulled your bare feet up into the chair and watched just as raptly. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him do this for sure, yet every time filled you with a sense of… excitement. Like you were watching the man under the mask slowly transform himself into The Ghost right in front of you. Certainly a childish kind of thrill, yet you never missed the chance to watch Ghost do anything, really. Curiosity always got the better of you when it came to the mysterious Lieutenant, and that black stuff he smeared on his face wasn’t exempt from your silent questioning.

“Will you leave me the fuck alone?” He growled, steely eyes darting right to you with a harsh edge to his posture.

Ghost always had a prickly attitude about everything, good or bad. Fuck, you could tell him that he’d won a million dollars and he’s just grumble about how paying taxes on it would be a bitch. Never seeing any bright side of a situation. But that also didn’t come as much of a shock. The Lieutenant always put you in mind of this black shadow just floating around wherever he pleased or was needed for the time being.

You’d made jokes to Gaz and Soap about his sandpaper-like disposition and shitty attitude before, oftentimes enjoying a short moment before sleeping -without Ghost present of course- where you mimicked him for entertainment. It always got you a bunch of laughs considering the stark contrast between your own character and the Lieutenant’s. You didn’t mean anything negative by it, Ghost just made it too easy to poke quiet fun at him every so often.

“If you answer a question, I’ll leave.” You bargain quickly, already knowing exactly what you wanted to ask about. Ghost just growled in frustration, leaning his forearms on his massive thighs and looked pointedly at you, silently demanding you got on with your foolishness so that you could go off somewhere else and be a pain in the ass for someone else.

“What is that?” You nod to the small container holding his eye paint.

“I mean… the stuff you put on your face?” Unconsciously the question comes out of your mouth a tad bit nervously and hesitant. Not that you had the slightest fear of Ghost being upset with you in a dangerous way, but more so that you were prying into something that he felt was too personal to discuss. That kind of assumption wouldn’t have typically been far off with how private he liked to keep things.

Contrary to his typical behavior Ghost gave a small huff of something close to laughter. Apparently amused and puts the lid on the small jar to toss it across the room for you to get a better look at it. Unscrewing the lid of the small plastic travel-jar, you were met with a very familiar smell. And it wasn’t the kind of cosmetic fragrance you were expecting it come from it.

“Gun grease,” Ghost answered quite offhandedly, acting as if that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. Speechless and naively shocked, you look up at the Lieutenant with wide eyes and your mouth a little agape. The look on your face only amuses Ghost that much more and a little flash of it shows in his dark eyes.

“You put slide action lubricant on your face!?” You almost hiss the words out, disbelieving and in total awe of how Ghost hadn’t lost his eyesight, got chemical burns, or some other type of injury from doing something so unheard of.

Ghost shrugs noncommittally. “I prefer Hoppes. Theirs lasts the longest.” He said standing up and stretching his neck side to side.

“You have a fucking brand preference?” Your mouth really does drop open now.

“Brand and color.” He replies smugly, striding over towards you and grabbing the small container and opening it back up to dab more over his eyebrow which hadn’t been fully covered earlier.

“Hoppes…” You repeat the word, thinking for a moment. “You mean that kind that comes in the syringe?” The image of the component and how it hangs in a little package in the gun care and cleaning aisle at every store. you’ve ever been to.

“One and the same.”

Your eyes roll skyward and you can’t help but groan out. “Good god…”

For weeks after that conversation, your mind revisits the thought of Ghost using a ten-dollar tube of gun grease not only as weapon maintenance but also as a skincare product. Surely he’s not stupid enough to think that it’s not harmful to his skin right? He’s got to know that when it gets into his eyes it can cause damage? It comes to a breaking point when you go into a local drugstore for a prescription painkiller for a recent on-mission injury and notice an End Cap display showing a new line of gel eyeliners that have come out boasting 48hr smudge resistance and an almost instant, comfortable dry-down.

You stop dead in your tracks, almost totally forgetting about needing to pick up the week-supply of pills for yourself as you gather up every single one of them in the color black and shove them at the woman working behind the register. The look she gives you is one of masked concern, but you just hand over the cash for it and your prescription before heading back out to your car with a sense of hopefulness that your Lieutenant won’t lose his eyesight prematurely if you can help it.

The following day you’re to report in to HQ for a meeting with the team for a pre-op report review, and have the chance to give Ghost your… gift of sorts. You’re walking out of the meeting, purposefully walking beside of him instead of talking to Soap or asking Price some lingering questions you have so your opportunity doesn’t slip by you.

“Hey, uh do you have a minute?” You nudge his arm with your elbow, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye. Ghost’s eyebrows raise, and he silently gives a stiff nod, not caring to elaborate any further.

Instead of peeling off towards his office down the corridor to your left, he keeps following you silently until you get out to your vehicle parked outside. Although he doesn’t say anything about it, you can feel his questioning look burning into your back as you unlock the doors and reach into your passenger seat for a small black bag that rattles with the sound of thick glass knocking up against each other inside. Even when handing it to him, he’s reluctant to uncross his arms and accept the bag from you because he’s much more comfortable just staring at you coldly. No doubt expecting you to do what you’re best at and waste his time for something inconsequential.

“Here… I really don’t want you going blind anytime soon.” You give him a half smile, dropping the gift bag in his hand. With that, you give a small goodbye and go around to the other side of your vehicle, and drive off before the Lieutenant can open the bag or question you about what the fuck you’d just given him thirty small jars of.

Once home you go about getting some clothes washed for the upcoming mission and take some time to make a call to your neighbor to ask if she can look in on your home and plants while you’re away and pay the water and electric bill since you’ll be out of town when the bills will be mailed. You’re halfway through telling the older woman that you’ll go ahead and write a couple of checks that she can take to the bank with her own bills when you feel your phone vibrate against your ear.

Your elderly neighbor gives her happy acceptance of helping out and gets off the phone so she doesn’t miss her nightly show while you check the notification you’ve received. It’s from a number not saved, but it’s not spam text or one of those random kinds of messages you get when someone uses the wrong number. It’s short, sweet, and to the point. The verbiage and almost awkward tone give you all the information you need to know that the Lieutenant had not only opened his gift but asked someone for your private cell so that he could give his… thoughts.

-Dries down a lot quicker. I like that it doesn’t crease.-

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3

[flowerandblood]

The First Impression (Drabble)

[ coffee maker • Aemond x student • female ]

[ warnings: angst, him being a mean bitch ]

[ description: He hates his job and she makes him hate it even more. Or maybe not entirely? A very old request from the anon. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Word count: 700

My other works chapters: Masterlist

_____

He hated his job. He couldn't think of anything worse and more boring than pouring coffee, cutting fucking cheesecakes and signing cups for little hipster girls who then took pictures of themselves with them, grinning like idiots.

However, nothing annoyed him more than those momentary, watchful glances as if someone was under the impression that he was just imagining things, looking at him more closely to make sure that in fact one of his eyes was prosthetic.

He felt like pouring hot coffee in their faces then and asking: anything else?

Of course, he couldn't do that, and that vision remained only in the realm of his dreams. He wanted to support his mother and pay his own rent while studying at the University, and few employers were willing to go along with him when it came to working hours.

He had no choice but to endure it somehow.

He was devastated when it turned out that, according to the fashion, they were supposed to learn how to make different patterns on coffee so that they resembled different shapes or characters. He felt like an idiot when, for the tenth time, he had to repeat the movements that would allow him to create a heart shape out of the liquid, and then he had to do the same thing, only that for the female customers.

For them it was romantic, for him it was pathetic.

One day he saw a girl bending over a cup he handed her – she was sitting at a table taking a picture of the design she had ordered, which was a flower.

He thought she was probably some kind of influencer and rolled his eyes, thinking that at a time when someone had to work hard like he did, others were simply putting their pictures on social media, making a product of their lives.

She surprised him when she approached him, undeterred by his stony face expressing boredom and disapproval.

"Could I ask for that most complicated pattern, with the dragon's head?" She said, and he closed his eyes thinking that this was the worst day of his life.

Why, why did it have to be him?

"You don't like doing this." She muttered finally, trying to make out his answer from his face. He turned involuntarily over his shoulder, not wanting his manager to hear him.

"Not really." He admitted reluctantly, thinking after a moment that he was a moron, that she would write about him on her blog and he would lose his job because of her.

"We study at the same university, so I have to warn you." She finally confessed.

"Your boss hired me as a secret client. This is my last day of work. He wants to know how you talk to your clients. But I won't tell him about it. Just be careful because he might do it again. I wouldn't want you to lose your job over such stupidity." She said quietly, leaning towards him, and he froze, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

"– fuck – I –"

"Don't say anything or he'll see it on the cameras later. Just make me that coffee. By the way, you're very good at it. I even sent a picture of your creation to my mum." She said with amusement and he swallowed hard, tense and nodded, taking a clean mug from the counter.

"Right."

He figured he'd put his whole heart of stone into the design on her coffee as a thank you for warning him, and made out his boss's face with his big glasses and moustache. When he placed her cup in front of her she burst into loud, warm laughter.

"Beautiful. This is better than the previous one. He's even similar. So sad to drink." She sneered, pulling her wallet out of her bag, taking out her credit card.

"Thank you. You know." He said, tapping the amount she should pay into the terminal, handing it to her so she could put her card close to it.

"It's okay. I'm just glad I had the chance to meet you and talk to you for at least a moment. See you at the University?" She asked lightly and he nodded, embarrassed.

"See you."

[justpoliteconversations]

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 5)

You spend more money. And Link becomes a local legend.

I was intending on working on a different piece tonight, but the continuous notifications for Apple Merchant keeps reminding me of how much I want to write on it. And then the self-indulgent whispers start seeping into my brain and here we are. Enjoy your ill-gotten gains, Lurkers.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

Lurelin village. A beautiful little coastal town southwest of Hateno with just the right amount of sun and water to make any would-be visitor green with envy. Except no one ever mentioned the humidity (enough to drown someone in their sleep, you swear by it), the lizalfos infestation (something the game got right in concept, but wrong in scale) and the sand. The Goddess forsaken sand. The damned (neverending, grit in your teeth, tears in your eyes, gravel in your lungs) sand that got into everything.

So, no, Lurelin was beautiful and you'd thought once that maybe you'd get a house there (or maybe just plan a vacation). But you'd quickly been rid of the notion the moment you'd stepped foot onto the warm, picturesque beachfront property. Taken a deep, appreciative breath of the fresh, salty air. And then was promptly tackled out of the way of an oncoming spear by Skims (bless that man) as Adino put a pair of arrows into a lizalfos' hissing, gaping maul.

The face full of sand you'd gotten after being pile-driven into the ground just added to the experience. In the worst way possible. It had taken days for your mouth to feel clean of the unpleasant grit of sand grains and your eyes to stop tearing and burning in irritation. If not for Skim's constant care and Adino forcibly holding your hands away from your face when the pain became too much, you could have walked away with far worse than bad memories and a new distaste for sand.

That was the day you decided Lurelin would not be a place you'd be spending any significant amount of time in. No matter how friendly the locals or tasty the food or beautiful the ocean views. It just wasn't worth it. Not to you, at least. Maybe in another lifetime, it would have been a dream to strive towards. But not here. Not now.

You still had moments of unease when you think of what could have happened had Skim's not been so close (as he's always been, and as you'll hopefully always have him). And those moments were more potent when you were in the small village. Keeping you ever on edge and always within sight of your trusted guards.

So, one might ask why you'd chosen to go to that very village when you could go anywhere in southern Hyrule. In fact, (in those whispering moments of weakness) you'd ask yourself that very same question. Especially as you trudged miserably through the thick, muggy afternoon heat with Adino at your back and Skims on point (who knows where Red went. but it wasn't your business and so you dismissed the thought entirely).

The answer? Shock arrows. An unholy amount of shock arrows. Enough to break the purse of the average merchant three times over. And possibly put their children in debt too. And possibly their horse.

It's a good thing you weren't a common merchant.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Mubs." You called in friendly greeting as you set foot onto the dock, casting away your (unease) irritation and slipping into your business persona effortlessly. "Fair weather on the seas I hope?"

Pleasantries were exchanged, the latest information traded (Adino was feigning irritation as he eavesdropped, but you could see the way his eyes and ears flickered with amusement and surprise at the appropriate times. Skims was window shopping, eyeing some of the more exotic fish with open curiosity) and you ended up selling several thousand rupees worth of product to the woman. Fresh produce mostly, but also quite a few ores. Such things were always in high demand in Lurelin. Ores especially, as most coastal deposits were notoriously difficult to mine with the lizalfos infestation so prominent.

More workers died mining along the beach than to storms out at sea. And that's a very unsettling thought, given the ratio of miners to sailors in a seafaring village (of all places). Crunch the numbers, and becoming a miner in Lurelin was equivalent to a death sentence. And the general population knew that.

(It explained why crime rates were so low in Lurelin, when mining was the manual labor criminals were made to do.)

Passing off the last of Mubs' purchase to her, you waited patiently for the woman to finish storing away her newly acquired goods before speaking. "I have a large order request." You said, letting a small, costumer service smile slip onto your lips. And maybe that kind of smile was something that transcended worlds, or maybe Mubs just knew you, but she immediately looked wary (by the way she narrowed her eyes, it was probably the former. maybe).

She gestured for you to continue, and you did with cool (pained) confidence. "I need as many shock arrows as you can afford to part with." She started to gesture towards her arrow display, but you shook your head and she paused. "I need below deck inventory. Everything you've got."

Her brows shot to her hairline, incredulous as she cautioned. "Quite the order. Surely not even The Apple Merchant would part with so much rupee." You kept your smile (even and blank and you were quietly screaming inside), and she sighed. "'Course you would." She sighed again, harder, wiping the sweat from her brow before gesturing for you to follow. "Come on then. Lets see if we can't break yer infamous smile a bit, ya?"

You kept that smile. All through the walk across the rickety old docks, the bustling harbor and straight down into the musty bowels of a weathered looking ship. One guarded by no less than five full grown men. All through the talks with the big boss you kept your lips steadily pleasant and upturned. Right on through the exchange of rupees (even Mubs looked ill at the quoted amount, casting you a questioning, pitying glance as she clicked her teeth), and all the way back to shore.

Right up until the moment you collapsed into your (extra, super soft, not for you Adino you prickly jerk) inn bed, rolled over so your back was to Adino and Skims (who looked expectant and amused and far too smug for your liking) and stared at the wall with that same smiling, blank expression.

And then, slowly. You put your face into the sinfully soft pillow. And screamed.

"Damnit Link! Why do you cost me so much money when you're not even here?"

Skims laughed with his entire belly at your outburst, and Adino smirked, hiding his face to the side as a few rouge chuckles escaped him.

A wordless, muffled bellow was all they got back in exchange.

---

Link stared at the truly mind-boggling number of shock arrows that'd appeared in his inventory. 6800, to be exact. Which to some may not seem like an especially outrageous number, but to Link (who usually found items in the single digits) it was a truly unfathomable number to comprehend, let alone contend with. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to take full advantage of his (thoughtful, kind, wond-) generous AM's meticulous foresight to destroy the local monster population. With feeling (so much intense, pent up feeling).

He'd take every ounce of his frustration (his blood boiling, fist clenching, teeth grinding anger) and pour it all into destroying his enemies. His worry at AM's absence from his side. His displeasure at Ms. Blue's condescending and secretive (and kind too, for all she was withholding information from him. information he'd bleed for) smiles.

And especially his rage at those Goddess forsaken, Ganon worshipping, traitorous Yiga who ruined his chance to thank AM properly for their presence in his life (because he doesn't know where he'd be if not for them. and honestly, he never wants to find out).

He'd take all those emotions and channel it into something productive. Something beneficially destructive.

So, destroy the monster population he did. And how generous of the Goddesses, to have brought him to a land of eternal rain to begin his crash course in violence-fueled stress relief. With shock arrows.

It is said amongst the general Zora population (the more outspoken poetic ones at least) that when the Returned Hero of Hyrule made his ascendance through the Domain, night became day and the land was cleansed of all things foul that would stand before him. A miracle in the flesh. He who brings the light and sun to the land of rain.

And really, they weren't wrong. For the most part.

But for those who saw this supposed miracle for themselves. They all had but one thought.

'Thank the Goddesses it's not me he's pissed at.'

---

Back to the shadows to rest.

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

In the face of recent news about our beloved Destiny, I think it’s more important than ever for us as a community to come together and support each other in numerous ways.

It’s been a very hard week for all of us, especially those who lost their jobs and outlet for their passion in mass lay offs. Losing a position that allowed you to craft magnificent stories alongside some of the most ambitious people in the gaming industry, especially in worrying economic circumstances, must be excruciating to deal with and I wish the best for all those laid off from Bungie.

For us fans, it hurts more than anything to see the game you care so much for get put in headlines for how little that care is shared amongst the people responsible for making decisions on it. I’ve been into Destiny since it first dropped, making it the love of my life for nearly two-thirds of my whole existence , and to hear about how it’s just another product to be sold when it’s everything and more to me is just despairing. I wanted to become a writer and concept artist to create a game for others that made them feel as cared for as I did when I played Destiny and now I’m sitting here seeing all the people who helped foster that feeling be treated as another expenditure.

It’s awful, a lot of us are feeling really uninspired and betrayed at the moment, not sure we even want to see what will happen to this masterpiece of a game in the hands of the current executives. We are also dearly missing the developers, artists, writers, and more who made Destiny more than a fps looter shooter.

But it is times like these where we are torn and confused that we must uplift one another and not let the bitter taste of Bungie’s actions make us speak with hostility. This is not about decisions on whether to support Bungie or the actual game, but about refocusing on what truly makes Destiny enjoyable to so many.

Its world is immersive with care put into every story and that clearly shows in just how eager fans are to create masterpieces for it. It was never playing the game or the notoriety that kept me coming back for more, but the joy of creation I could share with others.

It stings to see a disinterest in nursing the potential of the Destiny universe from the executives with motivations other than monetary gain, but when the executives won’t care, we can. There are still employees at Bungie who adore their work and we can continue to support them by speaking up against horrible industry practices and show that we won’t abandon their efforts to make Destiny what it is.

Make ocs, write fanfictions, follow the former employees wherever they go, draw til your heart is overflowing, join Discords, roleplay, share headcanons, create aus with friends, do whatever keeps Destiny alive and flourishing for you!

Destiny will never die to me, even when it’s long forgotten and the servers shut down, because Destiny made me who I am and I intend to repay that gift an infinite amount of times over. The characters and universe will be alive and well to me until I die, regardless of the fate of the game and Bungie.

So go out and prove that Destiny’s themes of the power of community and hope are more than just morals behind a screen, that they are life changing messages that we will carry on despite hopeless news!!

Reblog charming artists, message people about ships you enjoy, leave questions and tags that contribute to conservations, write essays about what Destiny means to you!!

My messages and inbox for questions are always open if anyone would like to talk (I’m trying to get better at answering them, even if they are months late)! You are all welcome here and I want to start reblogging and liking more freely even if those things scare me sometimes!

We can decide our fates and we can decide the fate of Destiny’s presence in our lives as well! We can choose to care when others won’t and refuse to make our enjoyment debatable!! In troubling times, we should be able to reach out into the dark and find hands to hold onto tight!!