#i was looking at the blog to see if I wanted to block 'em and saw someone said 'thanks for the message i'll donate what i can' to them

[kindleaf]

sunny that post is making me actually ill frankly. if you like d20 you'll love this group who's best works are the length of the shortest d20 seasons and who's worst works are the long form you're trying to suggest. and who do not operate on nearly the same ideals of inclusivity or basic company policies you'll see in any other major group. dear lord

I JUST COULD NOT BELIEVE IT WHEN I READ IT. if you're looking for serious story telling you're going to LOVE the show where the dm makes a character read detailed gay erotica about his grandfather while everyone cringes and bemoans and screams. you'll love the bald. remember when you guys hated that the ih villainized characters who were products of their situations? yeah the council is just as bad if not worse about that. you'll just love it. remember when jschlatt was there. oh the good times.

[lesenbyan]

i wish tumblr users a very vet blogs before you donate to them

[coulsonlives]

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[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 6)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 5, Part 7

summary: Everything unravels. You teach Miguel a lesson.

warnings: soooo much smut. mutual masturbation, grinding, slight femdom, Miguel is a submissive switch cuz I said so, m! masturbation. very very 18+ Minors DNI (ageless blogs will be blocked, thanks!)

a/n: yeah...so. ya.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in your half-hearted hubris,

Miguel is not a jealous man. Jealousy implies something he thought was shed long ago: a second skin of something green-eyed and crooked. 

One minute, he's watching you kiss someone else. And when you sigh into it; imperceptibly, but he notices because he always sees these things about you; he's biting the inside of his cheek and drawing blood. The guy you danced with, and now your lips are on his. Is… Is that your type? Jun is slender and charming; a pretty boy, through and through . There's a hand on your thigh, he notices, milky white and willowy. It has Miguel looking at his own, rough and tan, the ghost of soft skin and pillowy thighs on his fingertips. The illicit foray of one night, one night with you , and he's second guessing himself. 

Insecure. 

His hands are rough and calloused. He picks at hangnails, the skin is raw from rubber gloves and mystery chemicals, and knuckles creaky because he cracks them too often. Is that what you like? The kind of thing you touch yourself to; his hands, pawing at flesh. Jun cups your chin, slender fingers pulling you closer, and your own come up to wrap around them. You seem desperate for it, panting and pretty lashes fluttering when you separate. 

And you look at Jun like… like he wants you to look at him. 

There's blood in his mouth when you finally do. He looks away, quick and furtive, like you've caught him doing something wrong. It's not right or wrong, he supposes, just tripping over a muddle of thoughts – still stuck on the image of your hand on Jun's.  

He was a late bloomer, awkwardly proportioned and too tall for his limbs. Clumsy, if you can believe it. He's always been a bit of a bull in a China shop; bulldozing and brutish and still growing into a body that pools at his ankles and is tight around his wrists. Like an ill-fitting suit; the kind he wore to Fernanda's quince, skirting the rental hall with a bottle of j2o. In and out of conversations, tripping and stuttering over words in stiff dress shoes and a waistcoat . Gabi took a lot of photos: peace signs and pointer finger looped into coat pockets.

Point is; he's not felt this way in years . Tongue-tied, hot and cold, heart-pounding. Jun decidedly isn't; able to talk to you like a normal person, making you smile and laugh. Curling fingers into the crest of a wide palm, he digs his nails into the flesh: producing a sting that makes it crystal clear. Oh. Oh. 

Fuck.  

One minute, he's nursing a warm beer and trying not to take a chunk out the inside of his mouth. The next, he's on the floor of Lyla's living room, blinking up at bright lights. 

There's soft hands all over him. Holding his own, cupping his cheek, moving his head this way and that as he tries to focus. He's looking at your pretty lips, pert and pressed into the lean line of a frown. There are… people talking over the other; strained and hushed in a quiet corner. 

He recognises Lyla's voice, distinctive despite the ringing in his ears. 

"A-All over a drink…. pushing past 'em, Jess…. he threw the first punch…"

~~~

The drive home is terse, air thick with something. Stewing, you've got your arms crossed and head turned to the windows. You're watching the streaky lights of the city zip past, lips pursed. Head on the glass, you're making a point not to turn back or utter a word to Miguel. 

"You picked a fight." You swipe a finger on the condensation, finally ready to talk. 

He shrugs limply. A beat passes. 

"....this is the part where you explain what happened, Miguel."

"I picked a fight."

"...that's it?" Your brows shoot up. "You just… there was no build up? Why? "

"Wanted to give 'em something to bond over in the morning." He deadpans, glancing over to the passenger seat. "Matching black eyes."

You shake your head slightly. "Don't believe you." 

You see something flash in his gaze, and then it's gone. He smooths over features, and that Miguel is back: lifeless and blank. Steadfast, he doesn't turn to look at you. 

"Okay." He says simply. 

"All that Ophelia shit from a couple of weeks ago, and you still won't –" It's under your breath as you clamp down anger. If Miguel hears, he doesn't indicate. "I just want to understand."

He purses his lips. "Nothing to understand. I'm an insecure piece of shit, and I picked a fight. I ruined Jess' birthday, and fucked it up for everyone else. I know. Can we… Can we speed this bit up? I'm exhausted. "

"No-one… I didn't say that." Your voice is hoarse. He's being mean. He's never been all that nice; sarcastic and smug, for sure, but never cruel. It feels spiteful. You're blinking away a hot tear before you can stop it. And then they become angry tears, ones that sting your cheeks on the way down. 

You're not good with fights. Never have been. And it's not even the confrontation that scares you, it's the apathy. Sifting through your guts and begging someone to care, when they don't. It's like screaming at a brick wall and expecting the mortar to shift; a pointless exercise in delusion. You'd grown sick of it with Jamie; the hand-waving and the what do you want me to do about it of it all. It's the one thing you've grown to like about Miguel, about all your little fights. He's rarely the bigger person, petty, and able to get down in the shit and stink with you; because, on some small level at least, he gives a fuck. He cares . 

You're embarrassed that you even thought he would be any different. Disappointed, but not with him: with yourself for getting caught up in all of this. 

You're sniffling, wiping up and flattening out of sheer spite; refusing to let him see how a stupid thing like this affects you. The tears well up in your eyes, hot and blurry and you're focusing on holding yourself together by the seams before you get home. 

You don't notice him pull into a side road and park the car. It rolls to a stop, and he's reaching over to the backseat; and pulling out a box of tissues. The box is floral and tissues scented; rosy and sweet in a way you wouldn't expect from him. 

When he nudges you with the box, apologetic, you're still not looking at him; not even flicking over to give him a dirty look. 

"Chula. " It rolls off his tongue so softly, but you jut your chin in the air. "Please. I'm sorry." 

You purse your lips. 

"I'm a dick."

"Yep." You manage. 

"I picked a fight. I'm an insecure piece of shit–" 

"No, no." You're turning back, quickly. "Stop saying that. Why are you saying that?" 

He shrugs again, and you flop into your seat. You notice, he's gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. 

"Relax , Miguel." You wrap a hand around his, and watch him visibly melt. His gaze softens. "M'not trying to push, I'm sorry."

You take his hand off the wheel, inspecting the purple and blue that spreads across taught skin. His palm is rough, knuckles bony and bruised. 

"When we get home–" Home. You sigh, bringing it up to the little car lights. "I've got a first aid kit, somewhere. We need to clean this up, or it might get infec–" 

Looking up, you catch Miguel staring , stars in his eyes, and it… it knocks the breath out of your lungs. All of a sudden, you're flustered and letting go of his hand in a hurry. 

All he does is nod, starting the car. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling away with a palm on the flat of the wheel. In the light of street lamps, shadow cutting his cheekbones just so. He's beat up, he's tired, but even then; Miguel is so, so pretty. 

~~~

You end up in the bathroom, first aid kit splayed on the countertop. He insists on standing, despite a slight limp he tries to downplay, and so you're sitting on the faux marble with Miguel between your legs. Your dress rides up but you're too tired to care, ripping open gauze and tapping disinfectant on a little pad. At least he has the decency to be still and quiet, with his palms on the counter top and kissing bare thigh. 

Miguel is tall, still having to bend over when you pat the peak of a split lip; hand on his chin ever so gently. 

"Where'd you get all of this from?" He asks because your first aid kit is comprehensive : micropore, gauze and antiseptic with a name that sounds like sleeping pills. 

You're swatting him gently, trying to keep his jaw still. "My ex was a med student."

He smothers a smile, like he's trying not to laugh. 

"...what?"

"...is he the one that couldn't make you cum?"

You stop tending to his wounds, hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. Never have I ever faked an orgasm – the words start ringing in your head. You're not a blushing virgin, but his crass word choice makes you flush. 

"None of your business." 

He smirks. "So that's a yes. "

"I faked it once or twice , sue me. But… I mean, the sex wasn't bad. It was even good, sometimes."

"Sure." He cringes, and you bat his shoulder. 

"Don't want to hear it."

He hums, pressing a little closer to your front. 

"What was he like, then?" He seems nonchalant; but his tone is unusual, sending shivers down your spine. 

"He was… nice."

"Nice?"

"Yep." Four years, and that's the best you can come up with. It's all you can verbalise, at least. How does one describe the feeling of getting hit by a metaphorical train? One that leaves you on the tracks, thinking of picnic dates and IOUs and diner coffee? They'd describe it as poorly as you do, most likely. A moment passes. "I loved him, I think." 

You don't know why you said that, but the melancholy of the night starts to sink in. 

"Then why'd you break up?" 

You shrug. "Wasn't enough." 

He looks surprised, eyebrows drawn up momentarily, as if that's the last thing he thought you'd say. You strike him as a romantic; ditzy and dopey when you have feelings for someone, a love conquers all type of person. 

The mood sours, air heaving in that little bathroom. You finish up in silence, applying strips to a gash above his brow. It takes some time for him to speak, as if he's been building up the confidence. 

"Is that your type?" He asks, finally puncturing that pressure. 

You shake your head, a little confused. 

"Nice? Like that guy you were talking to."

"...Jun?" You hesitate, sensing something else behind his words. "I mean… I just wanted to get laid."

He doesn't really react, thumb grazing the silk of your slip dress. The skin his hand brushes past feels a little hotter. 

"He's pretty, though." You're careful not to make eye contact, getting to work cleaning the cuts on his knuckles. You smile to yourself. "And yeah, he's nice. More than nice, actually. "

Jun works with computers. Jun is good with his hands. And you really were going to fuck him. Until… until… 

…until Miguel got into a fight. After watching you kiss someone else. The gears turn in your head, creaky and lumbering because you haven't had to navigate a shitty pseudo-situationship in forever. You're wrapping up his hand with gauze, mouth moving quicker than you can think. 

"Are you jealous?" 

He splutters, flashing pearly whites in indignation. 

"No… No . You can fuck whoever you want." He says it too quickly. "I don't care."

He looks a mess; a gash above one eye, a nasty cut glancing the side of his lip, and knuckles bruised. Suspecting more hiding beneath his shirt, you look at him, gaze heavy. You're worried, even when you shouldn't be, even when he doesn't deserve it. 

"Oh my God." You're connecting dots, and your stomach churns with the realisation. "What the fuck ?" 

" M-not -" 

"Just because you don't want to fuck me– " 

"I never said I didn't want to–" 

"You didn't have to, you just refused to acknowledge how we almost did for two weeks. "

"Neither did you!" 

"I wanted to… after. And you said we couldn't, because I had a lecture." 

"You did have a lecture, and you were high! That doesn't mean anything… I need you to mean it when you say it."

"So you resort to sabotage? I was gonna get laid, you fucking asshole."

"You kissed him."

" So? "

"You didn't kiss me."

That one takes the wind out of your sails, and you're stammering with the amount of brainpower it takes to wrap your head around it. You slip off the counter, putting some space between you both. 

"...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not saying you can't kiss him… o-or you're not allowed to, or some crap. I just don't get it. I don't understand."

He's holding your hands in his,

"You just met the guy, and you kiss him on a stupid dare–"

" –he kissed me." You correct him, voice hoarse. 

"He kissed you . Cool. Whatever. You kissed him back.  But when I tried to kiss you, after… " He trails off. 

"I dodged one kiss . Maybe I wasn't feeling it."

"And that's fine. I respect that, and I respect you. But it wasn't just one kiss. It's all the time , around here. I say something, then you say something, and then… we have a moment. Time just stops. Can't you feel it? I-I feel like I'm going crazy."

You keep quiet, only the sound of your heart racing to punctuate thoughts. 

"Miguel… "

He gets even closer, pressing you against the counter, his bandaged hand migrating to your waist, and then the small of your back. Your knees are weak as you swallow roughly, with Miguel; strong, annoyingly handsome, perceptive Miguel; resting his forehead on yours. You come together, intimate, even allowing your eyes to flutter shut, waiting for the press of lips on yours. 

It never comes. Wrenching yourself away at the last minute, you're standing in the doorway; arms folded, because you don't know what to do with your limbs anymore. 

He doesn't look disappointed. Just deflated. 

"Do you want to fuck me?" He asks. Yes , you answer, but he can't hear it. 

"Do you want to kiss me?" Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me? 

This feels different. Not as simple as a yes or no.

Your face must say it all for you, because he sighs. "I just want to know why."

His behaviour has been erratic, to say the least. You've spent a good month and a half terrorising each other, before coming to an uneasy truce – and he fucked it up. All that talk like he knows you, that he sees you, and it all feels for naught. 

"After all the shit you've pulled… what gives you the right? I was so worried about you–" Your voice is barely above a whisper. " Fuck this. M'going to bed."

Slipping into the gloom of the hallway, and then into your room, leaving Miguel there. 

It's different, why can't he see that it's different? A one night stand, with Jun, with someone else; kissing a guy in a dare doesn't have consequences. You get off, you go home. Simple, clinical, no need for niceties. With Miguel, as you've come to realise, there are other things to navigate. Even when high, you knew ; with someone like him, it's too intimate – the possible consequences too dire. He's your roommate, for God's sake. 

You can hear him now, turning off the bathrooms lights and padding into his room. For once, there's nothing to be heard from behind the wall. The dim light spills in, warm yellow pooling around the door. Your window is open, moonlight and the city below to keep you company. 

And you want him to stew in that room, to punish him for all the shit he's put you through in the past week; hell, the past few months you've been here. But you can't. If you're sick of the mind games, you can't keep this game of chicken going – you're both careening towards the edge faster than you can say the words: Yes, Miguel; I want to sit on your face. If you could get rid of the attitude, that would be great, too .

So you're knocking on his door, still in your dress, tugging down its hem when he opens. He's in that shirt and slacks, bloodied front and all.

Deep breath. You straighten your back, and make sure you're heard, loud and clear. 

"I don't like it when you bring over girls to fuck them in your room. The walls are too thin, and I can't sleep because I hear everything. Everything, Miggy."

He's stony-faced, unreadable as ever. Still, you continue. 

"I don't like it when you look at me… like that, and then pretend it never happened. You're inconsistent, sarcastic, you freak out whenever there's a sock out of place and it drives me fucking crazy–" 

" I don't –"

"I'm not finished. You're a prick. You don't tell people you love them enough, when… when you do. You so clearly do. Lyla was worried when you took so long to get to Jess' – just give her a call, sometimes. Let people know what's going on."

His face is stuck somewhere between abject horror and plain old shock. For Miguel, that means his eyebrow is raised a half-inch higher than usual. 

"...you finished?" He strains. 

"One more.. ." Another breath. "...your poker face needs work. Because you look like you need a shit half the time."

His jaw shifts. You maintain eye contact; despite everything screaming that you should run with your tail between your legs. 

"I fucking hate you , Miguel."

"I know." He softens, running a hand through his hair. Leaning against the frame, he steps a little closer; and imperceptibly, you're both pulled by the gravity of the other. All of a sudden, your head is on his chest, blood-spattered cotton that smells like him, arms wrapped around his middle. Hesitant, he pulls you even closer, slotting into the crook of your neck as best he can. 

Wordlessly, you separate. You knit your eyebrows together, looking up at him. With your hand on his cheek, he leans into your touch. You graze a thumb on his lips, eyes fluttering at the broken skin: plump and messy and pretty. 

"Sit down." You say it so softly, he convinces himself he didn't hear it. 

You go again. "Sit down."

Your tone makes him flush, and then he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans back, you step forward; legs brushing his knees splayed atop the sheets. 

"Do you want me?"

He's nodding before he even hears the end of the sentence, eyes locked onto yours. 

You shrug. 

"Prove it. "

And it goes straight to his cock: the way you say it, blasé and casual, like you haven't put words to the way he's been feeling for weeks. Usually, he'd start to spiral, endlessly loop around what you mean. Want , strong and heady; and to him that means a hungering that leaves his throat dry and innards bare. 

Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me? 

And yet, he doesn't quite know the answer. Instead, he shows you; hoping and praying  he hasn't read this wrong. 

Barely breathing, studying your every move, he takes your other hand. You hinge slightly at the hip, coming closer, eyes still locked onto his and he places your little palm onto his crotch. It spans his whole length, quickly hardening. When you don't react, he panics, trying to move your hand away… 

…and then you squeeze . 

Miguel keens, bucking into the pressure you apply with the heel of your palm. He starts a slow roll of hips, other hand wrapped around yours on his cheek; melting into it, in a way that brings heat to that sweet spot between your legs. And then he stutters to a stop, lips parted and panting. 

"Why'd you stop?" 

"G-Got carried away. Sorry ." 

His brows are knitted, shoulders hunched, and when you slide your hand down to the corded muscles of his neck, he tenses. He always seems so stressed, but you've never seen him like this: desperate and falling apart at the seams. 

"You're okay, Miguel. Relax. " 

You shift your wrist, rolling around that growing tent in your palm. He hisses, palms flat by his side and head thrown back. With a little smile, you watch his shoulders melt, satisfied. 

"Does it feel good?" 

"Y-Yes." He groans. Despite your quickening pace, he seems to clamp down instinct; biting his cheek to muffle wanton moans. 

"How about you get more comfortable for me?" 

At first he doesn't understand, grumbling when you take your hand away from his clothed cock. Pulling him upwards, you make a start with his buttons, helping slide the fabric off of his shoulders. He slips his slacks off, and then he's left in black boxers; it's band hanging dangerously low. 

They're tented, sporting a wet patch of precum around the fat tip of his dick. And he is large, its outline clear under the thin fabric. 

You wrap a hand around his waist, other hand tracing up to his chest. 

"What about you, chula? " 

You look up. Miguel looks down at you, eyes low, large hand splayed between your shoulder blades. 

"You don't like what I'm wearing?" Doe eyed, you don't really expect him to take you seriously. 

"N-No, no. " He's stuttering, now. "You look beautiful. Always do. I just… I want to see more ."

You click your tongue with faux disapproval. "Don't be selfish, baby. You wanted my attention, right?" 

He nods, with the self-awareness to be  hesitant at your tone. 

"Then," You start, slipping a hand into his boxers. You wrap a dainty hand around his length; thick and slanted and weeping at the tip. "Learn to be grateful."

"Ayy-" He wraps around you, head bowed to dip into your shoulder. 

You pump his cock, other hand around his neck; eyes sparkling as you force him to look to his side, at you. 

"F-Fuck–" He's breathing heavily, mouth open into a pretty little O , and you clamp a hand down to his jaw. 

"What do you want?" 

"R-Rapido, mas rapido por favor -" 

[Faster, faster, please-] 

Surprisingly vocal, he loses it as you press your thumb onto his slit; flushed and pouring with precum. You rub his wetness along the length of his shaft, squeezing and turning your wrist as you get to his tip. He likes that; hips bucking to fuck into the ring you make with your hand. 

You want to savour this moment: Miguel stripped down to his boxers, beautifully tanned skin pressed up against yours. And of course, that look on his face; a lusty haze, even stronger than the one you were under when high, all those nights ago. 

His lashes flutter, and you watch as his core tenses; watching and waiting for just the right moment to… stop. 

You pull away, and he chases it, bucking into thin air. You're pushing him back onto the bed, with a hand to his chest. Eyes blown , he leans back onto his forearms; unable to tear himself away. There's a certain glow about you, a glint in your eye, one that takes his breath away. Something smug , a little smile as you drag a black thong down your pretty thighs. It's long forgotten when you chuck it onto the bed; Miguel still can't get over the sight of legs and a flash of your cunt, committing it to memory. 

Sidling up to his chest, you kick a leg over and seat yourself onto his lap. Flush against the fabric, you settle onto your knees. The look in Miguel's eyes almost bowls you over; stunning and windswept, as he runs a hand over your thigh. Eyes wide at the way the fabric pools around your body: the swell of tits cupped by silk, how good it looks against your skin. 

He's staring at where you meet, that spot between your thighs when it happens; when you guide his hand to the apex of your pussy. His thumb slots against your clit like it belongs there, rough pads applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Oh f-fuuuck," You sigh into it, pressing your tits to his chest in a way that makes him hump into the pocket left by your body and the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Even in his haze, Miguel is hyperfocused on your pleasure, obsessed with the noises he can pull from you. With a big hand on your waist, he pulls you closer to slot you against his front. It's your turn to moan, the prettiest thing he thinks he's ever heard, slipping his cock between your lower lips with a swirling intensity. 

You're drunk with the pleasure, hands on his shoulders to angle him towards your clit. He thinks you look like an angel, head tilted back to expose the expanse of your neck. Bringing his teeth to that slight vein, he's a killer; sucking rough hickeys to the skin. 

"M'close, fuck –" 

"Damelo, hermosa, " He places two palms at the globes of your ass, squeezing and pressing into you even closer. 

[Give it to me, beautiful.]

"Miguel…shit–b-baby, think I'm–" 

You cum, gushing and clamping down around nothing. Miguel is more interested in the way you transform ; fine lines and deep furrows of your face softening, the pure bliss written into the gentle arch of your body. He did that. It makes his chest warm, it makes his cock swell; and with the feeling of slipping through your pretty folds, he gets so, so close to that biting edge. 

You stop, slipping off of his lap and he whines at the loss of you. Tugging down your dress, you make your way out of the room and he's reeling , clutching at your arm so you don't leave. 

"Chula ," He's babbling, tucked back into his boxers, but on his knees for you. "I'm sorry, please. Do you want me to beg? Because I will , baby, I w–" 

Helping him up, you give him a little smile that he's too pussy-drunk to realise its true nature. Dangerous, you cup his face with both hands, brows pressed together and large, sparkling eyes. Not quite sympathy, but it's enough to make him think you'll wrap a hand around his cock out of pity, press those pretty tits against him and–

On your tiptoes, you give him a chaste kiss between his brows. You flash him a stunning smile, bottom lip hooked under your teeth. 

"Goodnight , Miguel." 

And then you're out the door, down the little hallway and into your bedroom. Miguel runs a shaky hand through his hair, unsure whether to laugh or cry. And he knows, still rock hard, body burning with the memory of you: he's fucked. 

~~~

When morning comes, Miguel wrenches open his eyes, bloodshot and sore. He feels like shit , barely able to sit up without feeling like his chest will collapse. 

It feels like he was ran over in a headfirst collision; and he was, essentially, wincing at the memory of that fight. He can feel strike one and two; between his ribs, to the side of his navel; but the real knockout punch was you – a deadly, calculated assault that he almost hates you for. 

Almost. 

He came harder than he has in months last night; bent over his cock, pumping shakily. It had only taken a couple of rough tugs until he spilled all over himself; embarrassingly quick. He lasted longer the second time, unable to help himself.

In his defence, the black thong you had slipped off was right there ; rumpled amongst the sheets. He had pressed it to his nose and then wrapped them around his shaft; eyes closed as he imagined being buried in your plush pussy. All his fantasies; quickies in the shower spent jerking off to the thought of you, where he'd hold onto the feeling of brushing past you in the kitchen, or little touches on the couch. You've surpassed them, well and truly. 

Now, he stumbles into the shower, stripping on the tiles. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he pokes at flesh; purple bruises stretching over brown and tan muscle. Turning around and craning his head, he follows them all the way to his back and then… oh. He can see them: scratchy-sharp lines, spanning the width of his shoulder blades. You did that, he thinks. 

Fuck . He's hard again, sighing heavily as he clambers into the shower. It sputters to life, ice cold, but he grits his teeth and takes it , trying to free his mind of cotton and cobwebs. As the water warms up, he presses both hands flat on the tile, head down and eyes closed. The water washes over him, down his back, and like a flash of lightning he's imagining you pressed up against him, bent in half over his cock. He'd press a thumb to your clit, slamming into your ass; fucking you hard, like you deserve. You'd like that , he thinks, from what he's heard of you in your room, the filth that spills from your mouth and to his side of the wall. 

"Miguel?" It's a little muffled over the shower, but you get closer to the door. 

"Yes?" He shouts over the rush of water. He shouldn't . He really shouldn't. 

"You've got a call!" 

He hums. With the way you say his name he caves, making a tight ring around his length. 

"It's Lyla, and-" Something clatters. " Fuck , sorry."

Your voice is breathy, little groans as you pick up whatever's dropped to the floor. Miguel feels like a perv, turning the water pressure down to listen to your voice properly. All the while, he keeps a steady pace on his cock. 

"Should I just let it ring? Keep it going?" 

Keep going is what he hears, and then he  speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him. What would it would it take to have you babbling and begging for more? How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length.

"Miguel?" 

Or maybe you'd be on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God , thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

H-Harder, please–

That's how you would ask him, clawing at his back, and he'd capture those pleas in a searing kiss.

"–Miguel!" 

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes onto the tiles. He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool tile. 

"Just take a message," He strains, panting as you say something in response. He doesn't quite catch it, of course, too busy reeling from the aftershock. 

The shower croaks and gurgles, spluttering to a stop. He listens as your footsteps recede beyond the door, moving away. 

Shit. It's going to be a long day. 

~~~

You sleep like a baby. Lulled into blissful sleep, after practically floating into bed. That orgasm does wonders; and you sleep better than you have in months. You dream of cotton candy clouds, flowing green grass, and tanned, muscled men on their knees; in the kind of sleep that wraps around you like a blanket. 

Surprisingly fresh in the morning, you wake up before Miguel does. You're milling about the hallway when he barrels into the bathroom, and on the couch when he leaves. 

"Mig?" You poke your head towards the door, and he almost jumps half a foot into the air. 

Eyes wide, and he can barely manage a weak smile. 

"Lyla called."

"Yeah, you…" He sighs, clutching the towel slung around his waist a little tighter. "You mentioned it."

In the light of the morning, you're able to assess him a lot better. To put it plainly, he looks rough ; blinking at you oddly, shifting when you come closer. You don't touch him, Miguel seems much too antsy for that, but you get closer to inspect the bruises that bloom across his side. It looks even worse than yesterday, purple and blue across taut muscle. You reach for it and he flinches, so you pull away. 

"...you okay?" 

" Yep. " He grits it through a plasticky smile; and the fact that it reaches his eyes is a red flag in of itself for the usual grump. 

The side-eye you respond with isn't quite enough to chip at it, so he continues.

"M'just fine."

" O–kay . Lyla said something about a debrief , earlier." 

"At the usual place?" 

"...uhhh. She said at HQ? In about an hour."

"Okay… okay. Nonono, that's fine… okay." He's muttering to himself and about to turn around when something catches his eye. Your lips; pretty gloss and freshly done. In fact, you're fully dressed to go out; in a display that has him confused. 

You answer the question he posits with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

"She invited me, Mig." 

His eyebrows shoot up. "Of c.. of course she did." 

Distracted and haphazard, Miguel gets dressed; squeezing into the car with a flask of coffee to-go. It scares you; the way he barely flinches while taking sips of the bitter liquid you know must be piping hot. He's acting weird, even weirder than usual; but you let it wash over you and move on. 

Eventually, you pull up to HQ ; a shitty dive bar that is inexplicably serving breakfast and other miscellaneous items at 12pm. At least, that's what it looks like, arriving to see one overcrowded table and a sea of pancakes and coffee. Jess sports a croissant and orange juice, whilst Peter scoffs down a burger almost as big as his face.

"Miguel!" He says it with a mouthful of pickles, beef and patty, slapping the man in question heartily on the back. 

He winces, batting Peter away before sliding into the seat next to you. For barely a second, your legs brush together and he's shifting away. Okay. That's… odd. 

You're sifting through menus when you glance over to the counter and you see her : a pretty woman of about 25, tucking red hair away behind her ear. Your heart stops, and then you're tapping Miguel. 

" Look, " You hiss quietly, nodding towards the counter. " Isn't that…? " 

June McGinnity, the premier main character in the hit tv soap, And Everyday Before The Last; The Final Season. It's the very same show you've been bingeing for the past 6 months. 18 seasons, 3 spinoffs, and a revival currently in the works; you're obsessed with the show that's gotten you through your last breakup – and the one before that, and a couple of rocky moments with your parents. 

She's been a staple for the last couple of seasons, quickly skyrocketing to popularity in her minor role, and now , in The Final Season, she's got her well-deserved spot as a season regular. June is tenacious, smart, absolutely hilarious, and–

" –she's coming over here . Shit, Miggy, she's coming over," You whisper to him and for the first time this morning; he smiles, wide and genuine. It takes you back; not just because he looks so pretty when he smiles, but because you have no idea what's so funny. 

June slips into the seat besides Peter, and your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. She gives him a kiss on the cheek , as Peter brushes away blunt bangs. Frantic, you turn to Miguel, who's trying not to piss himself laughing. 

He's borderline howling, and you put a hand around his arm to get him to keep quiet – to stop embarrassing you in front of June – but he's too busy wiping away tears. 

Peter turns to the scene, clearly confused. He says something to June, and then he's turning to you, saying your name. 

"Hey, I don't think I've introduced you to– Miguel, please shut the fuck up– this is–" 

"MJ." She smiles, brilliant and sparkling, with her hand outstretched and you think you might pass out. 

"I'm–" You're stumbling over your words, grasping her hand before you can overthink it. Maybe it comes off as overzealous, but you're desperately trying to shut out Miguel's laughing. "I'm a massive fan, you're so incredibly talented ; as June – I always cry at that one scene when you meet your long-lost sister... a-and when you find out that Jackie is actually your Mom, I swear, I get chills–" 

The man besides you splutters, hunched over and gripping onto the table for support. It's getting egregious, now, and you make it known as best you can with a dirty look. 

"I'm, oh fuck, no… I'm done, I promise." He clamps down a smile, hands up in surrender. 

"Was that… too much?" You gain some semblance of perspective, and then you're falling over yourself to apologise. " Shit , I'm really, really sor–" 

" – No, no. You're good, it's nice to get recognised for that show! Most of the demographic is old people and pensioners, honestly. Not a lot of IRL interaction with fans, if you know what I mean." She flashes you that smile, again, and you melt. She turns to the man beside you. "Don't be a dick, Miguel." 

"Yeah, Miguel." Peter continues to inhale what you think is his second burger, wagging a sauce covered finger. "What she said."

Miguel rolls his eyes so hard you think they might rattle about in his skull, and you give him a rough shove for good measure. Down the other side of the table, you spot Lyla; downing a brightly coloured drink and massaging her temples. 

"Shit , Lyla. You want to slow it down?" Jess says, and then her eyes are flicking over to yours. She does a double take, giving you a wide smile. " Hey , y'all! When did you get here?" 

"Not long!" You call back, and she gives you a thumbs up in response. Lyla coughs beside her, sporting a nasty grimace; and then she's up and looking around the table, as if taking a headcount. At least, you think she does, as it's hard to see her eyes between pink tinted shades. They slip down her nose and she brings a fork to the empty glass; silencing the rabble. 

"M-Morning…" She stills, hand on her chest like she's got heartburn; throat bobbing as she gags slightly. "Morning, everyone. First off, hope you all feel as shitty as I do." 

And then there's cheers and good-natured elbowing, especially towards Ben and Miguel. Apparently , if you're to believe the whispers and rumour mill; Ben took to bar-hopping across town, ending the night without a shoe and someone else's shirt. He gives a rueful smile, holding up a mug to scattered laughter. And Miguel… well, he's Miguel , sitting back in his seat with folded arms. 

"Second," She pauses, for dramatic effect. "Someone's volunteered to pay for the next round of food to apologise for last night… everyone say Thank you, Miguel."

She starts a limp round of applause with a flourish, and sits down. There's only about a dozen people there: most you recognise, and some you don't. There was no attempt to explain what exactly a debrief was; so you're left disorientated in the mash of voices. Miguel picks at waffles besides you, in his own world. Without a word, you get up, making your way towards neon bathroom signs in the corner. 

It's some peace and quiet, a moment to think as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You look lighter , as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders last night. Your skin looks a little brighter, eyes sharper and even your hair falls differently, today. You feel good, and it seems to translate to the person looking back it you. Wow. You're practically–

" -glowing. Shit , you look good." Lyla calls out from behind you, entering the little bathroom with Jess. 

Jess gives you a warm hug, and Lyla follows before pushing up heart shaped glasses. 

" Damn, girl." Jess gives a low whistle, hands on her shoulders to turn you this way and that. 

They make you giggle, with a warmth that blooms at your chest. 

"Was it that cute guy from last night?" 

Lyla interrupts. " Jun! Did he send you a little something after you got home?" 

"Did you ditch Miguel to get some?" 

"God, did you invite Jun over? " 

Jess gasps, before quickly adding. "No judgement, of course. Once upon a time, we probably would've done the same thing." 

It's a back and forth that gives you whiplash, dodging fastballs that get hit into the tiles. Not trusting yourself to speak, you shake your head, demurely. 

"...are you telling us you didn't have sex last night? Because that glow says something different."

You clamp down any words that might give you away, but Jess' sharp eyes latch onto the cracks: a little smile tugging at the sides of your lips. 

"So not Jun … but someone else? Last night…? " 

The penny drops and then she's grabbing at you and Lyla. When realisation hits the mousy brunette to your side, she's flinging off pink shades to look you in the eye. 

"You fucked Miguel?" 

"No!" You're hissing, trying to calm raucous behaviour. "Technically, not… yet."

"Not yet? " Lyla repeats, astonished. "I mean, I thought you two were already–" 

"It makes sense! Could've sworn I saw his knees shakin' today…"

"Okay, okay…" You're laughing, finally understanding the magnitude of the grenade you've just lobbed at them. "It wasn't like that . It's not a thing."

"...do you want it to be a thing?" 

You tilt your head, pretending to think on it. Yes , you want to ride him till something breaks; but Miguel is a walking red flag. You know, deep down, nothing good can come out of it. 

"Don't… don't say it like that."

"Look, Ly, she wants it to be a thing. "

" Definitely. It's basically already a thing ." Lyla concurs, nodding firmly. 

"Fuck you guys." It's not said with spite, leaving your mouth with a smile. 

"Oh, no. You like 'em tall, and tan, and a little grumpy. You mean: Fuck me, Miguel. "

You're swatting her away, whilst Jess is doubled over in laughter; hand on the ceramic to steady herself. They're good fun; raucous and boisterous and making you feel welcome, when you know they really don't have to. 

The laughter dies down, and they're leading you out of the bathroom to their side of the table, chattering away. Jess digs into another pancake, rock hard, and all of a sudden you're telling her about the waffles at Pam's Diner, and all the interesting characters you've met there. Lyla nurses another sweet cocktail, chattering on about a pre-game she's got in a couple of hours; and then you're exchanging stories about hangovers and missed lectures. 

From their conversation, you slowly learn what a debrief entails: the remnants of a tradition they'd started when 19 and spotty. All of them, friends of friends, roommates, classmates; growing to know each other in the dinky bar across the street from their dorms. Tending to hangovers in the morning from an all night rager, or pre-gaming before the biggest events of the year: it's something that trickled down to every so often later in their adulthoods. It's something else Miguel started, surprising you yet again. 

So absorbed in their heart-to-heart, time flies by; and late breakfast turns to brunch. You're exchanging phone numbers, and left smiling from lots of little tete-a-tetes, before Miguel tries to drag you to the car. One last goodbye had turned into two, which had turned into four; and then he's grumbling alone in the car for a dire couple of minutes. 

You open the door, glowing. Your mood dampens immediately as you sit down; soured by Miguel's own swirling dark cloud. He seems worse than before, somehow. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the air thick with something. Where you would've bit your tongue before, pushed down difficult-to-say words, now, you find a surge of confidence. 

"Miguel," You start, and he turns; key still in the ignition. 

You look around at the parking lot, mostly empty, except for you two. 

"Can we talk?" 

"...sure." His tone seems anything but sure; which feels like a first, for him. 

"About last night."

"Oh." And then he's gone again, eyes flicking around the cab of the car. All of a sudden the mirror needs fixing, and he's fiddling with some buttons on the dash. 

You place a hand on his to still him. He doesn't flinch. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah." He shrugs. You don't believe him. 

"Did you like it?" 

He pauses, chewing his lip. " Yes ."

You believe that . 

"Good." You hum. "I liked it. But you made me feel like shit, too."

He softens. "I did?"

"You did. You only wanted me after you saw me with someone else. After I kissed Jun."

You wait to see if he admits it, and his hand curls into a fist, tight. His grip relaxes, and then his voice comes out in a whisper. 

"Y-Yeah… I was jealous." He seems remorseful, at least. 

You sigh. "I don't want a relationship with you, or anything. But it made me feel like… an object. A conquest, another notch on your belt because you only want me when you can't have me. It made me feel shitty, Miguel."

"I fucked up," He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wasn't really thinking, chula. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Miguel. I like fucking around with you." You say it with a small smile. "I want… more ."

"Me too." He's smiling back, shy, brushing against you with fingers stretched out.  

"That's fine, more than fine. We can do this because I make you feel good, and you make me feel good, and somehow… this works . But we need to keep this," Gently, you push away his hand, gesturing between you both. "...and us separate. My heart can't take the possibility of this blowing up. And… And it's probably going to be me; 'cuz I seem to like getting my heart broken."

You give a watery laugh, but he doesn't laugh with you; instead, boring into your soul with red-brown eyes. 

"If we're going to do this, it means I can't kiss you, properly ; it means no cuddling after sex, or staying the night in your bed." It's why you couldn't kiss him before, and you hope he understands. "You can say no… you probably should say no. But that's what I want, right now. And those are my terms."

It takes a moment before he respond, mulling it over, and you barely breath in the interim. 

"I want you ." He nods slowly, and then more firmly as he turns the key in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life, as Miguel turns to you with as best a smile he can manage. Lip cut, hair smattered across his forehead, and thick brows softening; he says, firmly, " Yeah, I'd like that."

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

[sanjisboyfie]

draken as your attentive boyfriend

requested, thank u for whoever requested this literally felt my heart explode writing this because dear god i love draken sososososoo much. like to be so fr hes my hashtag dream man ! NOT ALL SELFINDULGENT WHAHHTTT

-> draken x ftm reader, sfw & nsfw portions (cw at that part) -> fem alligned, minors, and blank blogs dni !! DNI !! if i see you interact, i will block you

sfw

— draken who lets you play with his hair, enjoys it a lot, actually. the soft black strands are at your mercy. whatever you wanna do to it, even if it's tying it in some pretty bow and making him walk around the shop with it like that, he loves it. when you guys are just chilling in your humble apartment, his head is in your lap and he's almost asleep with the way your fingers gently run over his scalp and through his hair.

"dude, seriously?" one of his customers said, looking at his black hair that had pink ribbons tying them at their ends since you had styled his hair in two simple plaited braids.

"what about 'em?" draken snarled, leaning against the counter and not-so subtly flexing his muscular arms. "my boyfriend did it for me, you got a problem with it?"

cue the customer very nervously shaking their head as your boyfriend continues glaring down at him as if he were nothing but an insect.

— he lets you borrow his clothes whenever you want. considering how large he is, they more often than not end up fitting you pretty oversized or just right. he smiles whenever you greet him in the morning and you're wearing one of his shirts or his sweatpants that are sagging loosely off of your waist (not to mention the bottoms of the pant legs are dragging on the floor). also doesn't care if you wanna borrow his boxers either. he's a clean guy. he washes his underwear, so obviously it's fine if you take some of his to wear.

you had quietly asked if you could use one of his boxers as shorts around the house. he noticed your meek demeanor when asking, as if you were expecting outright rejection.

and he quickly pulled you in by your waist, kissing the top of your head as he said he obviously didn't mind. he kisses your cheek when he hands them to you.

"we can always buy you some of your own too," he comments, then quickly adding in, "not that i mind you wearing mine! it's just, if you ever wanted your own couple pairs, baby, we can always go out and buy some," he assures you, sitting on the bed as you stand in between his legs.

his hands are lovingly caressing the backsides of your thighs, drawing random shapes as he speaks softly to you, "but, next time, don't even ask, alright? what's mine is yours," he waits for you to nod to show that you understand before smiling and pressing a kiss to your lips.

in general, he loves seeing you in his clothes and if he knows that the oversized clothing acts as a simple safe haven, he makes sure you know that he could care less if you steal a couple shirts or hoodies.

"just don't touch my socks, alright? can never keep track of them as it is, if both of us started wearing them, i'd be fucked."

— hovers close in public, always keeping an eye on you no matter where you are. old habits die hard, he guesses, since he's almost always in constant worry mode whenver you guys go out. it's been a long time since his deliquency days, but he's never not going to be paranoid. just let him rest his arm over your shoulder or rest his hand on your waist, it really puts his mind at ease.

the two of you were going grocery shopping to stock up your pantry and fridge. draken was pressing his chest to your back, nonchalant with the close proximity the two of you were in with each other. his hands were even pushing the cart in front of you, playfully scoffing when you told him you could do it.

"make my pretty boy do the work? don't think so," he chuckled when you told him you could do it, kissing the top of your head to get you to forget about it. because there was no way he was going to let you.

he reaches over your head for some things, dropping them into the cart without a second thought. if you motion for him to grab anything, he's got it in his hands in the blink of an eye. really attentive to what you want, in general.

also he likes to boost his own ego by doing this, teasing you that, "i'm just the best boyfriend, right? man, you're a lucky guy to lock me down, huh?" as he's nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you smack him away at how affectionate he was being.

another instance when draken is painfully aware of his surroundings is when you two are walking down the street. the location of your guys' apartment isn't the greatest, but it's also not the worst. he's just really aware of whatever is going on around you two, even if you're just walking around.

it was nighttime and the both of you were getting a craving for some junkfood. so a quick walk to the conveinent store, like two blocks down, was the only answer.

he had your hand tightly gripped in his, listening to you list out all the things that you wanted from the store and nodding every now and then.

"we can also get some dinner there, right? you want some instant ramen, baby?" he asks gently, looking down at you with a smirk, "dare you to get the extra spicy one and eat the whole thing without taking a sip of water!"

just as you're about to scold him for being so ridiculous, a random person jumps out of the alleyway you guys were just about to pass.

draken pulls you behind him faster than you could react and nails the guy right in the balls. the clattering of a metal hitting concrete is the next thing you hear after the guy's groans and you peak over draken's arm to see the state of the random man.

"shit, fuckass cops need to do a better job around here," draken sighs, acting as if that wasn't even a big deal. he still had your hands in his, so he wasn't that phased. as long as you stayed close, he would be as cool as cucumber. "are you alright, [name]?"

his soft eyes settled on you and was pleased to see you were physically fine.

"well, let's get that spicy ramen! you're treating though, since i just saved our lives!" he teases, kicking the guy's face as you both walk past and not looking back once.

once you get rung up at the counter though, he's tapping his card before you can react and kissing your cheek lovingly, "d'ya really think i'd let you pay? c'mon now," he teases, biting your cheek lightly before guiding the both of you to the window seats the conveience store had.

— the "d" in draken actually stands for domesticity !!! loves to wake up next to you, both of you having really messy hair. loves brushing his teeth next to you in the mirror, fuck - he loves when you guys are just in the bathroom at the same time. it's a really intimate thing that he's really, genuinely happy you're that comfortably with each other that you've reached that point together in the relationship. loves to feel you hug him from behind as he prepares you guys breakfast. loves to just laze away on the couch together on his days off. loves loves loves making your small apartment a cute home for the two of you.

draken leans against the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth as he tries to will himself to get excited for the day. you were in the shower, telling him it was one of the mornings you needed a shower to actually get energized. you two were just that tired.

and when you come out of the shower dripping wet, he spits out the toothpaste in his mouth and continues through his routine without wasting a beat. he turns to you as you're drying your naked body, easily maintaining eye contact as he asks, "what you want for breakfast? i'll make it,"

you think for a moment, roughly drying your hair with a towel as you do. and before you can respond, he's coming over with a scowl on his face, taking the towel from your hands.

"seriously? we talked about how bad that is for your hair, idiot," he scolds you, taking the opportunity to do it for you. there's really no need for him to do it, you would have heeded his warning and dried it more gently, but he felt a warmth bloom in his chest as he took care of you.

draken doesn't know it, but he really was made to be a husband. he's just that attentive and caring. (lock him down right now-)

! nsfw, draken x ftm reader

cw: use of the word hole and cunt.

— the thing with draken is that, a lot of people assume he's a hard dom and that's all he is !! not too far from the truth, tbh, but !!! still, he doesn't mind handing you the reins if you ever want to give it a go or if you're just feeling it. he doesn't mind anything. he's a big "go with the flow" type of guy. so if you feel like domming him, say less, just tell him where to stick his dick and he's for it.

— okay, no seriously, though, he's a big listener and believes so heavily in communication (as all good partners should-). tell him your limits / what you liked and what you don't like once and he'll remember it for the entirety of your relationship.

— throughout your relationship and developement of your sexlife, there is one thing about draken that never changes. and it's with how vocal he is. whether it be through the sounds he makes or the words he says to you or under his breath, this man will always be showing you with his voice how good you're making him feel. you get the best of both worlds, praise and degradation (<- depends on the night).

"fuck, my pretty boy, you're so tight," he moans as he grips your hips, slamming into you as his jaw is dropped at the sensation of you around him. he's ducking his head into your neck in a second, placing open mouthed kisses and leaving a couple hickies over your skin.

draken's groans are almost louder than the sounds your cunt is making. it's almost like he wants to drown it out, but really, it's all just him unable to quiet down. you just make him feel so good, how the hell do you expect him to be quiet? not when you're practically sucking him back in each time he shifts his hips backwards. not when your fucked out face is looking up at him.

you're perfect for him, he's convinced of it.

— really into body worship. kisses ever inch of your skin and if it were up to him, he'd make you cum ten times over just by playing with you. he doesn't even have to use his cock to get you there, he's sure of it. (he's got a big ego for a reason, though, trust. draken's got a big dick and knows how to use it).

"so fucking hot," he praises right into your ear as he's fingering your sopping wet hole with his fingers. he was laid up against the headboard of the bed, with you putting your entire weight onto his chest. his arms were draped over your torso, eyes trained on where his fingers were disappearing inside of you. "gonna ruin you, baby, gonna fucking ruin you,"

you moan as his palm rubs against your clit, squirming your hips away at the overwhelming sensation. he clicks his tongue, using his entire arm to wrap around you and hold your hips still.

"you drive me crazy," he curses, nipping at your neck and smirking at the mewl you let out, "get so fucking hard just thinking of you, baby. wish i could just fuck you for the rest of my life, don't need anything else when i got my handsome boy right here,"

spends a lot of time just running his tongue over ever inch of your body. every kiss he places on your body earns you a praise of how perfect you are for him. draken is the definition of a service top, he's there to please you and make you feel good.

it's his favorite thing in the world, making you feel good to the point of no return.

— most annoying part of draken's personality is that he's a fucking tease. if he feels like making you work for it, he will make you work for it. he's rarely ever mean, but when he is mean, he gives you a hardass time. but don't worry, he makes up for it by fucking you stupid <3

draken coos, holding your jaw so easily in his hands, "beg better than that, pup," his other hand is holding the base of his semi-hard cock. you're kneeling in front of him, lips in a perfect pout (the sight of them glistening with a mixture of his and yours saliva makes him hard real quick). he slaps the tip of his dick to your lips, smirking when you instinctively drop your jaw to let him hit your tongue.

"want me to fuck your throat? hm? use your words," he drawls, but doesn't show any sign of pulling his dick out of your mouth when you close your lips around him. the only response you give him is a moan that sends shivers down his spine. his hand buries itself into your hair, controlling the pace you bob your head at.

as the drool drops down to your knees from your chin, he shoves you off of his dick, almost wincing at the cold air that contrasts with the warmth that once surrounded him.

"still haven't heard you beg for it," he reminds you, making you roll your eyes with a newfound pissed off expression on your face. he notices that, quirking his eyebrow, "don't give me that look, brat,"

he tugs on your hair, making you crane your neck backwards to follow the movement, "is that what you are now? a brat? what happened to my good boy that did as he was told?" a cruel grin comes over his face, "or are you just acting out cause you wanna be fucked like one?"

in the blink of an eye, he's so easily picking you up off of your position on the floor and tossing you onto the bed, "always wanted to fuck you dumb. have you remembering nothing but my name," he pulls back from your chest, where he was previously placing wet kisses on, "you want that? want my cock buried inside you?"

and, of course, the answer is obvious.

-

if you want a more focused drabble of nsfw draken instead of just these headcanons lmk <3 and i'll get to it some time muah

[pillow-princess-diaries]

𝙱𝚂𝙳 𝙼𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚍 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚃𝚘 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚘 𝙿𝚎𝚐 ‘𝙴𝚖…

Summary:- how the bsd fellas would react to you asking to peg em

Pairings :- Dazai, Atsushi,Kunikida,Ranpo, Chuuya,Akutagawa,Tachihara, Poe, Jouno,Tecchou x Fem!Reader (seperately)

Tw:- pegging, anal (m receiving), handjobs, mentions of dirty talk (and a single line in poe’s part)

W/C :- 1.2k-ish

A/N :- Thank You to @chuuyassluttychoker and @falloutjuli for givin me their feedback on this before i posted it. And Now Thanks To Yall pegging Kunikida in just floating in my head 😭 Thank U To My Bestie @sapphic-serenade too!

This Could Pass as a Gn! Reader except for one line in jouno’s part and mentions of calling the reader, princess and queen in Tachihara’s part

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DON’T FOLLOW, YOU’LL BE BLOCKED!

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝘿𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝘼𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙮

𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢

doesn’t mind it tbh. He’d honestly love to have you do all the work while he sits back and takes it.isnt opposed to it and he’s so normal abt it it feels like he’s done it before🤨.takes it all in like a champ! And the way he moans your name just makes you wanna stay buried in him.he’s such a wet cat of a man it’s impossible to not enjoy his squirming~ especially when he looks so pretty and pathetic around your cock.face down ass up ofc~

𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢

Definitely caught off guard when you ask!would be very iffy about it but when he sees your excited face and sparkling eyes,he just cant seem to say no!please be gentle with him,lube it up real good and slowly insert it. He’ll be a squirming and mewling mess for just the first inch,but dw he can take it.unless he says otherwise,in which case please pull out and tell him how good he was for you🥺 it’ll motivate him to take more later.what can i say this man is a slut for praise,and in cases like this it really tends to work in your favor~

𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐚

Honestly i dont see him bein pegged…he just doesn’t seem like the type to be down to try it.best case scenario you could ask him to do it on maybe a special occasion like your birthday! That’s when the chances of him saying yes are the highest.so if you somehow dooo get him to agree,know he will nott be still.Kunikida is more sensitive than he looks (in more ways than one iykwim ;} ) so you will definitely need to ease him into it,maybe use your fingers as a little precursor ,and if he gives you the go-ahead,be.gentle. He wont be able to do too much on your first try.Thank Him and tell him it’s alright please 🥲. (Dw he’ll more than make up for it later in the night.)

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨

This man doesn’t give a single solitary fuck.doesnt care if you wanna fuck him in the ass as long as he gets to be your pillow princess~ he can surprisingly take a good amount in and oh Godd the little noises he makes💞 If you thought dazai would sound pathetic nah uh,ranpo takes the cake.he lets out the cutest little mewls as his head hits the pillow.he’s folded in half, your ploughing into him and he’s taking you so Goddam gooddd. He’ll act bratty fs,so maybe plug him up a little to teach him a lesson. Maybe even add a vibrator to the mix~ (he will DEMAND snacks afterwards😭 give em to him pls🥺)

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙈𝙖𝙛𝙞𝙖

𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚

very VERY skeptical.doesnt like the feeling of being penetrated from the rear,but the thought of being at your mercy and under your influence,just…makes him a little more likely to relent.what can i say,he finds you taking the lead hot as Fuck! And while he’s definitely more of a top,i kinda feel like he has moments where he wouldn’t mind being pampered a little~Takes it quite well(surprisingly) and his little whines are the bestt ,if you dirty talk him while you’re pushing in,he’ll break his sentences with little gasps and moans in the middle and they just make you want to keep going.If u jerk him off while you rut into him he’ll definitely be caught off guard but it turns him on tbh.But you’d best believe that once youre done with him,he’s gonna flip you over and RUIN you.You had your fun,now it’s time for him to remind you who’s actually in charge~

𝐀𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚

Nope.nah uh. No matter how much you beg,he’s not lettin you do it. Akutagawa doesn’t get intimate much,(idk i see him like sheldon from The Big BangTheory in this regard) and when he does he is in charge.he obvs wants u to feel good too but he does have a line he doesn’t wanna cross.also he feels like that puts him in a vulnerable position and doesn’t like it…its not that other positions don’t also put him in a vulnerable position,it’s just that this one makes him more uncomfortable…please dont pressure him into it🥹

𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

I honestly believe this bitch would be the most down to try it😭.He’ll be visibly chill when you suggest it,but inside he’s both anxious and excited, Goes with you to pick out a dildo.(if you dont already hv one that is) and gets flabbergasted when he finds out there are ones that actually cum!😭 (you have to convince him to leave it for next time🥲) when actually doing it,hes so verbal. Cussing,moaning,and praising you.wouldnt mind if you were a little rough. If you have him sit on your strap while you jerk him off he will physically fall apart; putty in your hands,if you will. Moves around and when you grip his hips to keep him still, he moans. While he likes to think of himself as a top,he’s a total bottom,but cam def top if you want him to.you’re his queen,princess and he’ll gladly be your good little boy☺️

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙

𝐏𝐨𝐞

Blushes immediately but agrees. Reads up on pegging so he knows what to do,he really wants to do good by you smh🥲.would prefer if you guys did it in missionary so he can see you go at him but wouldnt mind you coming in from the rear either .just a little idea,when youre hittin it from the back,grip his hair and lift his head a little before leaning in and asking him, “who’s my whiny little baby~” watch as he whimpers before answering with a strained “me.” Oh also this man is definitely the most sensitive of the ones on this list. He makes the cutest noises too~ poe’s little whimpers and whines are honestly music to your ears and when you’re done,kiss him and tell him how good he was for you,he’ll physically deflate and give you the cutest fucked out smile🥺

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘿𝙤𝙜𝙨

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐨

Aint no way in hellll youre pegging this man! The mere suggestion has him bending you over to remind you who’s in charge.just because he can,he might just put the tip of the dildo you’d planned on using on him,into your folds while he takes you from behind. will not stop until he has you moaning out how stupid it was for you to even suggest that.fucks you so good youre nothing but a mess of cum and moans.So if you wanna get fucked up harder than usual,just casually suggest pegging him and in no time you’ll be “regretting” your decision.what can i say,he likes being in charge and likes it when you remember☺️

𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐮

When you suggest it to him,he thinks for a bit before nodding. He’d love to help you try new things while also trying something new for himself! He’s perfect like that☺️.isn’t particularly vocal but his breaths are heavy. If he says anything its, “y/n~ hnghhh~youre so~hnuhhh” if you use a vibrating strap, the moment you turn it on,he groans before it turns into a lowly moaned “fuck~” definitely gasps every few seconds when you rub his g-spot. Oh also doesnt mind you pulling his hair a little.Tecchou is a badass in the streets,but your little princess in the sheets and neither of you would change it for the world.

Tag-List : @diagonal-queen , @sapphic-serenade

All rights reserved © 2023 pillow-princess-diaries. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[red5tars]

minors + ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked.

cw; nonconsensual kink -> pet play, kidnapping, drugging, light dehumanization

johnny has always wanted a dog.

his mam never let him have one growing up, always complaining that it would track mud in, ruin her carpets, and just be too much to handle alongside johnny and his sisters. so, he remained dogless, coming home to the shrill voices of his sisters instead of the soft whines of a pup.

every time he comes home from deployment, he frequents the pet shop in the center of town, eying the newest additions. the shopowner is an older man, a retired veterinarian. a nice guy, letting johnny what it feels like to have a furry companion even if it’s just for an hour or two.

after one of his visits, the shopowner asks, “why don’t ya take one of them to your steid, johnny? i bet any of them would be happy to go home with ya.”

johnny hums in thought, stroking a small terrier in his arms.

with a grin, he replies, “finally git a pup o' mah own, cannae overcrowd th' steid.”

and the shopkeeper’s face twists into a puzzled look. last time he checked, johnny was dogless, getting his fix only when he came into the shop. before he could ask anymore questions, johnny checked the clock, letting out a brief sigh as he set the terrier down.

“gottae git home now, pup gets a bit whiny when ah dinnae feed ‘em on time,” he flashes the owner an apologetic smile, the sound of the bell ringing as johnny pushes the door open and makes his exit.

all the shipowner can do is sigh, crossing his arms over his chest, “strange, lad.”

——

the sound of a door closing stirs you from your sleep. memories of last night comes in bits and pieces; grinding on some stranger, chapped lips against your own, someone’s hand slipping down your pants.

vaguely, you remember the man taking you home, and it seems he was a good fuck considering how sore the space between your legs is. you also remember him giving you some water after, something about needing to stay hydrated.

the pounding in your head makes you release a groan, only for the sound to be muffled, buried behind your teeth. the feeling of something in your mouth makes your eyes widen, and you attempt to bring your hand up to your face, to touch whatever is restricting your voice.

though, that becomes the least of your worries when you see your hands are no longer hands, restricted in some sort of leather. they resemble paws more than anything else.

you can feel your heart rate rise at this revelation, so you finally examine your surroundings.

the room is familiar, the bars in front of your face are not.

the man who took you home mentioned that it was for his new puppy before he went down on you and ate you like a man starved. this cage was meant for a dog, so why were you in it?

a billion questions swarm your mind, but the answer for all of them walks into the room and turns on the light.

your head snaps toward the man who took you home. he spares you the same grin he used to lure you back to his place. slowly, he walks forward, crouching down a few feet in front of the crate. fear takes over your senses, making your body vibrate. his grin turns into a sympathetic smile (though you swore it was sadistic).

“dinnae be afraid,” his voice is soft when he speaks, but he gentle baritone does nothing to quell your fear. rather than address it, he just continues, “i hae no plans to harm ye, lass,” his hand runs over the crate, as if he were stroking you. his continued attempts at trying to soothe you are out of touch at best, mocking at worst.

despite the gag in your mouth, you manage a muffled ‘who are you?!’ that is comprehensible. at this, the man raises his eyebrows, surprised to hear you ask such a question.

then, his face breaks out into a warm smile when he gives his answer;

“yer owner, o’course.”

[valscodblog]

Office Workers John Price x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS, BE GONE OR BE BLOCKED! I will be checking the blogs who like this post. THIS IS VERY MDNI! I REPEAT MDNI! Why, you ask? Drinking, smoking, cheater!Simon, Bully!Gaz, Lapdog!Soap, and CEO!Price, SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUT!, cheating (Obvi-Simon), vulgar language, and adult jokes. It legit starts off with you fucking Simon. MINORS BE GONE FOR THIS ONE BRO. Cannot stress it enough. Also, GHOAP!

SUMMONING!!!!: @seconds-over-first @thebunnednun @writing-with-moss @skauni @needa-sum-luvn @m-1-l-0 @staytrueblue and @karlachismylife <333

and Yes. I gave Soap his '09 scar. IT LOOKED SO HOT OKAY? WHAT AM I TO DO? IM JUST A GIRL!!!

"Si-Simon, fuck!" you gasped, your mouth wide open. Simon laughed silently as he looked up at you, he tilited the driver's seat back via the hande bar on the side of the seat, near the base, and smiled up at you. But his smile wasn't at all nice-no no. It was mean and ignorant. He knew what kind of trouble you two would get into, he didn't mind getting into to trouble himself, he always smooth talked himself out of it, but you on the other hand...you never liked trouble. Not unless it was fun trouble. Which, when Price found out about you and Simon, it wouldn't be. And knowing Price, he'd find out. "Can't-Fuck-Can't wait ter see yer pretty arse in trouble!" Simon gloated, for some reason-he always liked seeing other's below him in some sort of trouble. He didn't know why but he just did.

That's was how your night went last night. Crazy-first day on the job and you ended up fucking your manager. Wow. Good job, Me, you scolded yourself, as you sorted through papers on your cubicle's desk. Your neighbor stood up and man was he tall. Simon had called him the Boss' lapdog-he didn't look it...What with the scar in his eye and all 'round rough appearance.

"Aye, Bonnie! 'Ow was the date?" He asked, in his heavy Scottish drawl. You smiled and said, "It was rather nice, truth be told...Simon's a bit brash, but he's pretty good with woman, surprisingly." He smiled and said, "You call the ol' Ghost, Simon, now, aye?" he teased, walking over to you. You nodded and said, "He told me to." he gave you a low whistle and smirked. "But be lucky, Bonnie. The only one allowed ter call 'em that is Me-his Husband."

And that warm smile disappeared. You looked him dead in the eyes and asked, "What?" stupidly. He looked down at you, his lips pressed into a thin white line. "Sure, it's not the first time he's cheated...but it is the first with a Woman...makes me question some things..." he gurmbled as he stared down at you, you, being you, stayed sat in your chair and gulped. "If it makes it better-he told me-"

"That i wuz single. Aye, Love. 'Ello, Y/n," Simon said walking over, her pressed a kiss to his supposed husband's forehead, and you swear you could see tears in your work-partner's eyes. "Wuz jus' sum fun, Soap. 'S all, Baby." "Just some fun? Really, Simon?" Soap, you guessed his nickname was, said through his teeth, you gulped again. "You cheated on may-with a fuckin' rookie! And a Girl nonetheless, ye bastard!"

You stood up and said, "Look, I'm so sorry, Sir. If I had known that-" "Naw, I don't blame ye, Bonnie! I blame tha' ol' Bastard right there." and he jerked his thumb in the direction of Simon. You sighed and then Gaz, the old asstant of the CEO's came out of his room and said, "The boss wants to see you, Y/n. I dunno why, so don't ask."

You swear you and everyone around you could hear your heart drop. You walked over to your CEO's office-the only time you ever saw him was when you were being interviewed by Laswell. He had walked in to ask her something, forgetting that she had you on the schedule. You knocked on the door and it opened so you poked your head in.

"Sir-you called?"

"I did. Come in, Y/n."

"Yes, Sir."

if only you knew how much you affected him. He only ever saw you one time-but fuck you were...captivating. He tensed slightly and then said, "Call me, John." to which you nodded. "Of course...John." Huh...sounded pretty coming from your mouth...wonder what else would.

"So...your new, you don't know much of well...anything, Love, so I'll give you the run down."

you gulped, "If i may ask before we start sir, what did i do wrong?" "Oh its not what you did wrong! It's what one of my...lowers did wrong, more so." "Oh..." "But you too are...semi at fault here-you entertained a certain...thought. Even acted upon it with a certain, Simon Riley?" you quirked a brow up. "Yeah...i went a date-" "Well let me tell you-you missed work with the excuse that you were sick...lying to me isn't a good idea, swee'eart." you gulped. "Uhm...I uhh, didn't call off, Sir-" "Oh really? I hope you know we, for legal reasons, record every phone call we get at this company, Y/n."

you were in huge trouble...You knew it. John looked up at you from where he was sitting and said, "I don't approve of Simon's ungodly habits. Never have-never will. But you, poor you, really...you didn't know he was married. Went to the wedding m'self. Wasn't big but it was nice," he listed off to you, you nodded. "Sit down, sit down! So sorry i havn't asked you before where are my manners?" He joked as he held his hand out to an empty seat across from him. "You aren't being horribly punished-but you will be punished just ever so slightly, Birdie." You nodded.

You deserved to be. You had helped Simon cheat on Soap. His name tag said, "John" you just now recalled. So, two John's at this office, huh? Wow....pay checks must get mixed up. "Are you listening, Y/n?" "Yes, Sir." "Good. So, you will be under strict supervision now, for about three to four weeks. I'll give you Kyle's old office. He's moved up in the chain now, don't worry. He's just a rank above you....same as John, truth be told." You nodded, "Right...so you'll move me into his old office?" "Yeah, that's right. That alright with you, Love?"

You nodded as butterflies flew into your stomach. You always had liked British nicknames. They gave you a sense of comfort-and turned you on a good amount too...but what you forgot is that the English are very smart too. Very observant, very attentive...John, even more so. He could see the gears in your head turning and then getting stuck up on that nickname, and every other one he called you. He could basically Hear the rate of your heart, and the fact you were blushing only confirmed his theory.

"Good to know you approve, My Dear."

and oh lord, your reaction was priceless. Red face, struggling o keep composure...poor thing. One single little nickname sent all of your hormones rushing to your cunt as if it hadn't been fucked the night before.

[wheels-of-despair]

@oneforthemunny's one-derful year The Title: The Big Three The Eddie: Dom!Eddie The Prompt: Revisit The Greatest Horny Hours Ever The Summary: A certain bratty reader finds herself reliving a familiar situation with Dom!Eddie... or three. The Words: 3k Youths and ageless blogs, Do Not Interact. I will block your ass.

It had been a pleasant evening.

After a few hours of shopping at the mall in the next town over, you and Eddie had stopped for dinner at a nice little restaurant nearby. Your waitress was sweet - a grandmotherly type - and the food was great. Eddie didn't even complain when you ordered a salad and proceeded to pick at his "real food".

Until he got up to pay the check, and you saw her.

That bitch Sandy.

The reason you never went to that cute little Woodstock-themed restaurant in Hawkins ever again. She'd practically drooled over Eddie, flirted with him right in front of you, shoved her tits in his face. And he didn't even fucking stop her.

You'd fought about it on the way home, and he'd pulled the van over and pulled off his belt in an embarrassing event that you mentally refer to as The Mel's Parking Lot Incident. Both your face and your ass burned at the memory of it.

And here she is again. Still dressed like a cheap hooker. Tying on an apron that was longer than her slutty little skirt.

"Oh, hey, baby! It's so nice to see you again! Still got that beautiful hair!" She reaches out and runs her glittery talons through Eddie's hair. YOUR Eddie's hair. The asshole smiles and mumbles something that makes her giggle. You rise out of your seat and stomp toward them with your fists and your jaw clenched. You're going to fucking kill her this time.

He hears you coming.

"No."

You keep walking, and he places himself in your path.

"No."

You growl and try to step around him. In any other situation, he might laugh, but in front of his whore, he grabs your arms to hold you still.

"Van. Now." He puts his keys in your hand and marches you to the door and pushes you out of it. He stands there, inside the door, guarding it for a second, until you stamp your foot in defeat and march toward the van, parked just a few steps away.

You unlock the passenger door and climb in and watch through the windshield as he drops a few bills on the table for your waitress and picks up the purse you'd forgotten about. He smiles and says something to that bitch behind the counter on his way out.

You're LIVID.

He steps outside, and his smile drops when his eyes settle on you. He tries to open his door, but you haven't unlocked it yet. He taps on the window. You fix him with a glare and cross your arms.

"Unlock the fucking door."

You roll your eyes and reach across to pull up on the lock. Not because he told you to. Because you're ready to give him a piece of your mind. He hops in and slams the door, dropping your purse on your lap.

"Keys."

You throw them at him.

They hit his arm and drop into the floorboard with a jingle. Instead of reaching for them, he slowly turns to you.

"You remember what happened last time you pitched a fit over her?"

You want to reply with a real zinger, something that'll make his jaw drop. But the memory of The Mel's Parking Lot Incident silences you.

"Pick 'em up."

You seethe.

"Pick 'em up, or I'm gonna come over there and give all these fine people a show."

You look through the diner's windows at all the people eating… and see HER. Staring at you. Bet seeing Eddie punish you because of HER would make that bitch's fucking year. You reach for the keys and drop them in his lap, then face your window with your arms crossed.

Eddie starts the van and backs out of the spot. A few minutes of driving passes in tense silence.

"What's your fucking problem?" he asks after a while.

"You're my fucking problem."

"I'm gonna be if you don't quit acting like a little bitch."

You're the bitch? Your rage bubbles.

"So did you know she was working there? Is that why we went there? Did she blow you when you went to the bathroom? Or did you slip out back and fuck her against the dumpster?"

"What the fuck?!"

"Fuck you! " you yell. "And your ugly whore, too!"

Eddie laughs. LAUGHS.

You pick up your purse and throw it at him. It's the closest thing in reach. He swerves and slams on the brakes. Your seatbelt keeps you from hitting the dash. The things you'd bought at the mall and stashed in the back go flying. A pack of brightly colored bath beads flies by you and spills into the floorboard by your feet. The van comes to a shuddering stop in the middle of the quiet road. Shit.

You look from the mess to Eddie's red face. You can see the vein pulsating in his neck.

"Alright."

Shit.

Eddie changes gears and keeps driving, scanning the side of the road for a place to pull off. You've done it. You're not going to be able to sit for a fucking week. And it's all that fucking whore's fault.

Eddie finds a forgotten driveway that looks like it leads to nowhere and pulls the van into it. How far does this go? Has he been here before? If you run, how long will it take for him to catch you? How much worse will it be? Your thighs clench. Your nails dig into the seat. Finally, the van comes to a stop. You look around, wondering if people can still see you from the road.

Eddie turns off the ignition, gets out, and stomps around the front of the van. His face is red. His jaw is clenched. You're going to get it.

So you lock your door before he can yank it open.

He looks from the handle up to you with fury on his face.

"Unlock. The. Door."

You shake your head.

Eddie glares for a second, then walks back around the front to his side. You reach over and lock that too. The keys are still in the ignition. You'll let him in when he calms down.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little girl," he growls through the glass. His tone makes the heat pool between your legs.

"Are you gonna say the word, or are you just being a fucking brat?"

You know the word he means. But you don't feel like it's the right time to use it. You stick your tongue out at him. What's he gonna do, break his own window?

He disappears. The back? Can he get in the back? No, the back is always locked, because he keeps his band equipment in there.

You frantically look from mirror to mirror, wondering where he'd gone to. Is there a secret Flintstones hole in the bottom he can climb though? What's he doing? You're leaning over to look out the back window when you hear a click coming from your door.

Fuck. The spare key he hides by the back tire.

He's got your door open before you can flee out the driver's side. You slip on one of the bath beads and fall over the seat.

"No you don't," he grunts, grabbing your ankle.

"Eddie, I'm sorry!"

"You're gonna be," he growls, pulling you to him.

Your feet hit the ground, but they're not there for long. He sticks his boot on the edge of the doorframe and props a leg up and tosses you over it, holding you in place with a strong arm around your waist. You dangle helplessly as he flips your dress up and starts smacking.

"Ow!" Slap! "Eddie!" Smack! "I'm sorry!" You kick out in protest, and he responds by shifting you further over his thigh and smacking harder. You try to brace yourself on the side of the van, to get at least some kind of leverage so you're not flopping around helplessly, but it's useless. You can't do anything but flail and cry.

And then, before you know it, you're standing upright again. You bounce back against the door as you get your bearings.

You look at him bashfully. You bat your teary eyes, hoping he'll just tell you to get back in the van.

"Go pick me a switch."

"Eddieeee," you whine.

"Plenty to choose from. Make it a good one."

"It's not my fault!" You stamp your foot again. "It's HERS!"

Eddie starts to roll his eyes, but they land on something in the van.

The new wooden bath brush he'd picked out at Bed Bath & Beyond had fallen out of its bag. Eddie had spotted it on a clearance shelf, picked it up, and smacked it on his hand to test it. The crack echoed through the store and made your thighs clench. He'd smirked and placed it in your basket. You'd had to carry it around for the rest of your shopping trip, wondering if everyone else knew what it was really going to be used for.

It had seemed fun and sexy at the time.

When he reaches for the bath brush with one hand and you with the other, like he knew you would try to run, you quickly change your mind.

He tosses you back over his thigh and starts bringing that big wooden brush down on your ass. You squirm and whine as the burn sets in. Eddie stops for a second, and you think it's over... until he yanks your panties down to your knees. You whine, but he just keeps going. The wood cracks so loudly against your bare skin, you're sure all the wildlife has fled the vicinity in terror. You cry in protest and humiliation at being bared out here in the open, but he doesn't stop spanking until you give in and quiet down.

"You gonna be good now?"

"Yeah," you sniffle, wishing there was more of a cool breeze on your ass right now. Your panties had slid down your legs at some point and landed in a crumple on the ground. You hadn't noticed until just now.

"Yeah?" he asks with another hard smack.

"Yes, sir," you correct yourself.

"Good girl." He puts you back on your feet. "Now go pick me a switch."

"Eddie, I said I'd be good," you whine.

"Then go pick me a fucking switch."

You huff and stomp away and pick a fucking switch, strip it of its leaves, and bring it back to him.

"Hands on the side of the van."

You glare at his stupid van and flatten your hands against it.

"Spread your legs."

You spread your legs.

He steps closer and pulls your short dress up, bunching it up and tucking it in so it won't be in his way.

"Stick that ass out."

You bend over further and give him his target.

SWISH.

The first strike isn't so--

SWISH!

BAD!

The switch swishes through the air so quickly, you're glad you weren't asked to count. You cry and shift your weight and try to avoid the stinging lashes setting your ass on fire until he steps closer and grabs you around the waist.

"Stay still," he orders over his shoulder. He keeps his arm wrapped around your waist, pinning you to his side as the switch keeps flying.

You try to obey, but it's so hard. By the time Eddie's done switching you, he's got his jean-covered leg between yours to keep you from lurching forward to escape the sting, and you're pretty sure there will be a wet spot when he releases you.

He drops the switch and gives your burning rear a rub, and you sigh, thinking it's over.

"Alright, hands back on the van," he orders with a light smack to your right cheek.

"What?" you ask, eyeliner streaming down your face. He reaches for his belt buckle, and you sob. "Eddie, I'm sorryyy."

Eddie unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops, never breaking eye contact with you. He folds the leather in half and holds it up and jerks it with a loud SNAP. You flinch at the sound. He lifts his hand and makes a twirling motion that means "turn around."

You do what he wants. Hands on the van, legs spread, ass out.

"Count."

You take a deep breath and brace for--CRACK.

"One!"

CRACK!

"Two," you cry as the belt lays another stripe.

"Three, four," on your already-tender sit-spots.

"Five!" on the left.

"Six!" on the right.

"Seven, eight!" stripes the tops of your thighs.

"NINE!" and "TEN!" set your whole ass on fire.

You lean your weight on your hands against the van, praying that he won't go to twenty. But through your sobs, you hear him shushing you as he rubs his hand across your sore ass.

"You got somethin' to say to me?" he rumbles in your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being a brat."

"And?"

You want to stomp on his foot, but you know better.

"And being jealous of that whore."

He smacks your exposed rear with his hand.

"Of that GIRL."

"Better. Anything else?"

"I'm sorry for locking you out of the van and not listening and for being a bad girl," you say quickly, hoping that'll cover it all.

Eddie laughs and dips a finger between your still-spread legs.

"Well shit, if I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoyed that. You like being punished? Like it when I have to spank the brat out of you?"

He slides a finger inside of you, and you have no reply but a moan. You arch your back and spread yourself more for him, hoping he'll add another finger or two. He pumps in and out a few times and starts to circle your clit. You're so close, you can almost--

"Shame there's no dumpster out here to fuck you against," he says, pulling his hand away. You whine. He gives your ass another slap with his sticky hand. "Guess you'll just have to blow me. On your knees."

You salivate at the command and turn quickly to drop to your knees on the grass, reaching for his zipper eagerly. He lets you do all the work, not making a move until he's in your mouth. His hand comes to rest on the back of your head, and you respond with a moan around his shaft.

It doesn't take him long to finish.

"Alright, back in the van," he smirks as he zips up.

"Eddieee," you whine, rubbing your thighs together from your position on the ground.

"Oh, did you want to get off too?"

You wrap yourself around his leg and look up at him with the best puppy eyes you can muster. You must be quite a sight; you know your eyes are red and your eyeliner's running. But you want him in you so fucking bad you don't care about anything else. You'll ride his boot if you have to. If you just shift a little--

"Too bad," he says simply, wrapping his fingers around your upper arm and helping you stand. Before you can protest, he guides you back to the passenger door and helps you into your seat. You hiss when your ass makes contact, and he smirks as he leans over to buckle your seatbelt. You glare down at the bath brush in the floorboard instead of at him.

"Is that how bad girls ride home?"

You look down at yourself, wondering what you've done wrong.

Eddie reaches in and tugs your dress out from under you so that your ass makes direct contact with the cracked leather seat. You'd forgotten about this part of The Mel's Parking Lot Incident. How the hard surface adds heat, and the cracks dig into your tender flesh.

When the van rumbles to life and backs out of the bumpy road, it's like being punished all over again. The paved highway is a smoother ride, but still extremely unpleasant.

You know better than to lift up. Last time, you got caned for it. But maybe if you put your hands on the seat and put your weight on them, it would help take the pressure off…

"Get those hands on your head."

"Won't that look weird when people pass us?" you ask hopefully, mad at him for seeing what you were doing immediately, and mad at yourself for even trying.

"Don't care. Do it."

You pout and put your hands up, the full weight of your burning ass pressing down on that cracked seat from hell.

You were so relieved when Eddie pulled into the driveway. You were nearly free. You'd behaved on the way home, so he wouldn't cane you this time; he'd probably take you inside and cool you off with some lotion and bend you over something so he could admire his work as he plowed into you. You unbuckle your seatbelt and carefully climb out, where he's waiting for you.

"Pick up all those bath beads."

You turn around to start picking up those colorful little beads from the floor, quickly and without protest because you want to get inside and get fucked right now. You feel a breeze. He's lifted up your dress and tucked it in again. Your striped, burning ass is on display for the whole neighborhood.

"Eddie!"

"What?"

"People will see!"

"Better hurry up then," he says, unbothered. He stands behind you, partially blocking the view, but making you feel so exposed… and dirty… and so wet, you're seconds away from dripping.

You stuff the bath beads back into the flimsy plastic box they fell out of as quickly as you can. Eddie opens the side door and stands guard as you re-bag all the things that had scattered after he slammed on the brakes.

When everything is finally back in a bag, Eddie reaches out and lets your dress back down. You both grab an armful of shopping bags, he slams the van's doors closed, and he follows you into the house.

Now it's time for the fun part.

[socheckitout-mikey]

heeey these weren't requested, i just thought i'd do a little bit of writing for john, one of my fav pb characters! i'm also new to writing for pb, but i've been a fan for a long time now. i hope you like what i came up with. lemme know what you think. - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

disclaimer: THERE ARE 18+ PARTS IN THIS PIECE SO MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dating John Shelby Hc's:

° John is one charming man. He's cocky as hell and comes into your life like a flirtatious whirlwind. He blunders straight to your heart upon the hearty spirits in glasses and the promises of a good life with him. He surely did not disappoint… in areas where danger doesn't lurk.

° He's wild and reckless with his temper, yet you even him out when he goes too far (even if you're also wild). Where you enjoy having fun with him and stirring up some trouble, you also value the freedom of neither of you being incarcerated. You're his rock and with one look he lays off, - when you're not looking of course -. However he hates the idea of disappointing you.

° His family business is a daunting enterprise to get behind. Whether you were there from the start or further down the line, it seems it has always stirred up rumours and turmoil - only getting worse as the years tick by. You fear for your family's lives regularly, but he promises to always keep you safe (even if he doesn't make it). And he has done a tremendous job of it so far, so why doubt him now? You make do with it and John wants you having no part of it, but sometimes you are needed - though Tommy and Polly both agree to keep it minimal.

° Embracing this part of his life, along with his mad family is certainly not easy, but you have managed it in the only way you know how.

° John is so protective over you that it at times makes you laugh. He doesn't particularly share fondness with the fact that you laugh at him, but it gets him grinning in the end.

"What are you laughin' at, eh?" John hums against your lips just as he's pulled you into his lap on a night out at The Garrison.

"You. Who else?" You murmur with a smile against his lips and a slick eyebrow cocked.

"Arthur. He's the one who fell on his arse earlier." He makes do of reminding you.

"That he did," you nod, fiddling with the collar of his tailored suit, "but you're the sorry git who's worrying about your wife walking your children home on her own."

"Sorry git?" John seems to partly take offence to it, you see it in the way his eyebrows pinch together. "Well excuse my arse for worryin' about you. I thought spouses loved that sentimental sort of shite?" He's somewhat playful, but his tone is deepening.

"Now that's the biggest word I've ever heard come out of your mouth!" You giggle, your eyes dancing with mischief.

John isn't pleased one bit. His palm strikes your ass once as a warning, "I know plenty of big words, dove. I can use 'em on you if you'd like."

"Is that a threat or a promise? And here I thought you were a gentleman." You giggle, leaning in to steal a kiss from him.

"A gentleman. What are you on?" He snorts before letting you steal that kiss from him. It's a bit too seductive for it being in front of others, but John doesn't care. However, as soon as its started, it's over and he's gathered you to your feet with a twirl under his arm. "Right, kids let's go home!" He bellows.

You're forced to roll your eyes in retaliation, "Oh for goodness-sake John! We're in Small Heath, nothing is going to happen to me and the children!"

"You're gettin' mouthier by the second, love." He stares down at you.

"Am I? I hardly noticed." You say innocently, grabbing your eldest daughters small hand in yours. When John doesn't answer you, you continue with, "Are you going to use those big words on me to keep me in line?"

His hot breath fans against your ear as he speaks lowly, "Hmmm, I'm more of an action man. " It's low and laced in seduction.

Your eyes grow dark as you stare up at him, "Should I be fearing for my life Mr. Shelby?"

"You will once I 'ave you all to myself."

° All admirers of you are to be warned because John Shelby doesn't share! He's a jealous man and rather possessive - even a simple look from someone else can be totally misread, especially if he's in a bad mood. John will cut them fresh smiles with his razor blade and give them something truly worth crying about. Nobody touches or tries to get in about with his partner.

° He likes to make a show out of it, to let them know exactly how crazy you are about him. He wants your attention on him, revelling in the notion when they walk in on you both getting busy somewhere risqué. He's got that devilish grin etched into his features as they rush off all flustered. You're just as red as they are, the moment almost ruined, but he dives make in for more with his soft pink lips whispering against the shell of your ear, "I'm not through with you yet, dove."

° John certainly has a dirty mouth and he knows how to use it. He likes to either embarrass or seduce you with it. It depends on the day, but more often than not it's the latter.

° John is softer with you and let's more of his sensitive qualities come to the surface in private. He has a lot of heart behind the funny, charming and cocky man with a lack of filter. Most people see it in the way he interacts with your children. The beast lays down its razor blade for some time to be engulfed in innocence as he plays.

° Other opportunities for his softer moments to come forward are during times where he thinks others aren't looking. It can just be a fleeting moment where he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear or presses a tender kiss on your forehead. Whatever it is, he adores showering you in his affections and to spoil you rotten. That dopey grin etches onto his handsome features, which never fails to make you swoon, as he tells you another dirty joke.

° He knows it'll get him a well deserved smack to the chest or a clip round the ear if someone else hears it, but you're laughing nonetheless.

° That laughter and smile of yours are truly like drugs to him. He wants to be the only one who ever invokes such happiness from you and feels immense pride when he's the source of it.

° Seeing you tend to the kids makes his stomach flutter with butterflies. He's won the jackpot and he can't be any happier because his children from Martha love you just as much as the children that are of your own blood. He makes sure to show you his gratitude.

° Family holidays to Blackpool or the seaside are a must! Riding donkeys on the shoreline and investigating all sorts of fun things bring so much joy to your hearts. Wherever the destination, it always turns out to be so much fun.

° You get along with his family. They quite literally adore you and think you're the perfect match for the likes of John. Arthur loves you the most since he's the closest to John. It's very comforting to know that there's always someone there in your corner when John isn't around.

° You know fine well that Arthur is gentle around you. He does his best to mind his language and when John cannot take you home, Arthur will. He gives you his arm and takes your safety very seriously. He is always complimenting you. You know that deep down, this is truly who Arthur is and are one of the few who nurtures his gentler domineer with kindness.

° When you're worried about John, Arthur always comforts you to the best of his gruff abilities. Often wrapping his arm around your shoulders and giving you a much too hard tight squeeze.

"Don't you worry, love. If I know Johnny-boy, he'd fight right out of Hell to get home to you safe and sound. I promise you that, because I'll be fighting him outta there for ya! Now, where's that pretty smile of yours?" He'd wink.

Good old Arthur.

° Polly and Ada love to go out on the town with you! A bit of fellow girl time is what you need after all. Especially with all of your children wanting your attention constantly. Polly and Ada know how to make you feel confident, taking you to lovely boutiques in town to get new dresses fit for the next special occasion, you name it! Nothing is better than sitting around the fire at the end of the day with your girls, drinking glasses of ice cold brandy whilst filling each other in with the latest gossip!

° Fights with John are often and they can be very passionate on both ends. Screaming matches and foul tempers to match, it usually ends up in two ways: In each other's arms, entangled in bed sheets or with John storming off. You hate the latter with a passion as you feel entrapped to the house and with the children, all whilst John is free to do as he pleases - usually going on a three day bender.

° Yet when he returns home with a killer hangover, under his grouchy domineer is remorse. You can see it from the corner of your eyes rolling off of him in powerful waves when you won't so much as glance at him or speak with him. Even his charm will not undo the hurt he has created. But it's his gruff softness as he engulfs you in his arm from behind. You may fight him, but when he says his signature, "Come off it, dove! No more fighting... I've missed you,"

° That- that is when you wave your white flag and allow him to shower you in all of the love he can muster. It goes beyond what he can ever communicate through his words. He's all about actions in these moments.

° The banter between you two would make outsiders believe you hated one another. But the entire family knows that the playful insults you sling at each other are just that - playful. You're always messing with one another - even when the other gets offended.

"Awe, how charming! I managed to slay one of the Shelby puppies!" You coo at him mockingly.

"Shelby puppies- I'll 'ave you know that with a face like yours, I'm surprised I even married you." He slings back at you.

Now it's your turn to be offended.

° The blood sport you both engage in is that of pranks. They're like full fledged wars if you're not careful. Where you can be sneaky, don't forget that John can be sneakier - he is a criminal after all.

° You know fine well that John intends to marry you - if you're not already married. With his charm and good looks, how can you not want to marry him?

° All in all, love with John never gets boring. Even though you have your many ups and many downs, one thing rings true at the end of each day: You're both absolutely madly in love with one another. You wouldn't have it any other way and neither would he.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: open!

[audioroleplayconfessions]

okay so i want to preface this by saying im not referencing any one person or instance with this, rather a trend in redacted tumblr i've noticed (not exclusively im sure but im most active there than the others soo).

we, as a community, need to learn that we can curate our own online experience fairly easily. especially here. and consuming content that actively makes you angry, for whatever reason, is a strange sort of masochism i really don't understand. if you do not like what someone posts, block and move on. please stop rageturbating on main i beg you.

there is so much bullying, for no reason. explict bullying, implicit bullying. 'callouts'. not only are situations neverr that srs (and like who can acc be bothered lmao) but once topics switch from fictional to involving real people, that's fucked, and i dont like it. we are not influencers and celebrities here guys. when you do stuff like that, odds are you're attacking some random eighteen year old student on max loans with about ten followers or something. like, this is the hill you wanna die on? really? get a hobby bro. knit. crotchet. basketball. learn to play the spoons or something anything please.

unless someone has done something so heinous and unforgiveable that it truly warrants community wide shutting down (and lets be fr now 99% of the time it doesnt) just be a normal person and block them? block em harrrrd. and then youre chill and theyre chill and were all happy? should that even have to be said? no ofc not. but look around. toxicity on all the light touches.

like i dont want to be scrolling through the main tag and seeing 'grr i hate this bitch of the week lets cancel them' only to see that a. the post has nothing to do with the fandom and is incorrectly tagged and b. 9/10 there's never even a real problem anyway. shadow boxing on my mama. we dont care about your beef! leave us alone!!

anyway, i mean all this to say that i love audio rp and i dont want it to become this weird toxic cesspool where we all think were the morality police and start hating. keep it to yourself cause i do not want to hear it. i love pretty pictures and fan theories and not you crying about why person a, b and c pissed you off. weird behaviour. stop it.

(thank you anonymous roleplay confessions i love you and your blog very much)

Big this. Earlier this week I actually had to delete a few "callout" posts where anons from the redacted fandom were making horrible (and unsubstantiated) accusations at other members of the fandom, tagging their accounts, demanding that they be banished from the community for having "problematic" opinions about the characters etc. Just block someone if you have a problem with them, don't call them out and try to rally people against them.

[call-me-chips]

Introduction!

Sup, I'm Chips. I do art, headcanons, and reblogging things I like :)

Please give me asks. About anything. Anytime. It can be a request, an ask, a thought, whatever. I am almost always bored. If you have something on your mind, talk to me :) (Just pls don't be spamming my inbox)

Rules about both sketch and headcanon requests below

More info about me:

What I look like:

(I think the first one is the most accurate, minus eye colour)

Sexuality: Lesbian

Gender: Agender

Pronouns: They/them (Also ok with he/him)

MBTI: INTP-T

Zodiac: Gemini (May 24th)

Fandoms: Bnha/Mha, Kny, Spy x Family, B99, Tadc, Fnaf, Toh, Helluva and Hazbin, Star Wars, Lackadaisy, Sonic, Zelda, Marvel, the Renegades trilogy, Dsmp somewhat, Zeyn_Syre, and I know I'm missing at least one more but oh well

Likes: Women, art, music/singing, cosplay, cats, guns, kpop, photography, formal outfits

Dislikes: Peanut butter, olives, mushrooms, bananas, eggplants, the government, any kind of nuts, iced tea

This is my blog of art stuffs! I post about my own art, as well as others' art and any other interests of mine. I am very gay, so expect what I post/reblog to follow suit.

Some little rules/things to know about my blog:

● BE NICE.

● I don't draw/interact with NSFW stuff, as I know there are minors on here and want this to be a safe place for everyone, so please keep that in mind

● I consider myself to be a christ follower. However, due to personal stuffs, please refrain from talking about God/Jesus/Bible things here

● I may post about religious things tho, but likely not

● I may also post more vent related things that could touch on topics such as toxic family, su1c1dal thoughts, etc., so if you would not like to see that, I will try my best to label all vent things as #chipsvents so you can block it :)

● Sometimes I hide little secrets or fun facts about myself in the tags of some of my my posts 🤭

Rules about sketch requests:

● The sketch requests are to cure my boredom/practice and improve my art skills, so they are free

● Don't request anything too specific. I obv won't be able to recreate the exact pose you have envisioned the character in, so just suggest the character and I'll handle posing

● Anyone can send requests

● Will only do 1-2 characters per page, but I may make an exception if the characters are small

● All characters are allowed, minus characters from adult shows/movies, such as Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss

● I can draw Ocs, so long as 1 or more reference photos are provided

● BEWARE, if you don't want your request to look like crap, I recommend not sending in Sonic characters (or just animals in general). I will still try to draw in Sonic's style if you ask, but you have been warned

● Be prepared for the request to take a few days to complete. I'm slow, sorry lol

Rules about headcanon requests:

● Fandoms I will do headcanons for: Bnha/Mha, Kny, Sxf, B99, Tadc, Fnaf, Toh, Helluva and Hazbin, Lackadaisy, Sonic, Marvel, the Renegades trilogy, Zeyn_Syre

● IF YOU WANT A KNY HEADCANON, please keep in mind that I haven't watched the anime yet, so maybe ask for more common/popular characters

● I will not do headcanons for Tengen Uzui. (I've done him twice already, and both of those were a STRUGGLE. If you wanna see the two I've done, search "kny headcanons" in my blog and scroll till you find it :))

● If you give me a character from a fandom I don't know, it will be a nonsense headcanon, where I will put their name into a random generator and give you the headcanon given

Tags for sorting (might forget to use em tho)

● chipsdraws (Art)

● chipsvents (Vents/sensitive topics)

● askchips (Asks)

● chipsappreciates (Character appreciation posts)

● chipsvsgod (God/bible stuffs)

● I fucking hate my rib (rants/updates on my rib)

● Headcanon reblog (My mha headcanon reblog chain)

● Random shit (Self explanatory)

[paralysnooze]

Woah woah woah- qsmptwt is coming here to Tumblr? Well, I must greet them!

Hello people! I'm not much aware of how it is on that part of the fandom (Twitter), but I heard about scary things. But don't you guys worry, you guys can stay here as long as you want :D!

The name's AB, I've been a resident here for a bit, and I think of it as my little vacation home. It's gonna be a little confusing at first, but I bet you all will get a hang of it :P

There are still discourses here on Tumblr, yes, but it's given already that we shouldn't quickly assume on things without any reliable facts and we shouldn't leave horrible threats to others. Some people have negative feelings, some have hopes, and that's normal! We'll get through this together :>

Some Tumblr tips:

I reccomend reading this post! This is the post that helped me navigate around Tumblr.

You can reblog as much as you can (even your own posts), leave little messages in the tags, and customize your Tumblr's appearance!

The con I do have to warn you guys about is the algorithm. It's not that good.

Just some quick tips from me:

Continue to like and leave notes to the contents you want to continue to see.

Follower counts are not visible; we don't make a big deal on people's followers

Go to your settings and filter some tags and/or words you don't want to see (because I guarantee some nasties are going to eventually show up on your feed. This filter system is actually pretty good!)

Report bots and block em'! Don't get tired on reporting/blocking them.

Go to the visibility on your settings, and enable the prevent third-party sharing thingy so that the Ai won't scrape off your blogs.

Tumblr doesn't have the auto translate feature but NEVER be ashame to speak or to type your mother tongue/ other languages here.

I reccomend cutting (adding a "read more") on longer blogs like this.

Lastly, be NICE, CIVIL, and RESPECTFUL!! Learn to take a few steps back on things you've seen/read, and look on the bigger picture.

ofc, BE SILLY!! Have some fun!

Welcome again!! Just take some deep breaths buddies, because we'll get through this ^_^

[neopronouns]

[if alt text is not accessible for you, every image in this post is a thin dull purple line divider with a slightly darker dull purple bow in the center, resembling a bow tie. end id.]

welcome to my blog!

i'm dexter, and you can find more information about me here. i'm 23 and i mainly use he/him, ey/em, and it/its pronouns, but any other pronouns that are not she or they are good too!

i also run @mogai-headcanons, where i made edits of folks' mogai/liom/etc. headcanons, and @neopornouns, a request blog like this one for 18+ terms, and my main blog is @pierz.

please read my dni before following me and read my general rules and blog rules/open requests before requesting!

if you're interested, you can also read my request whitelist to see what requests i'll be most excited about!

my requests are currently open! here is every request currently in my inbox. my queue currently posts 1 time at noon cst.

here's a quick list of frequently asked questions — i recommend you look through this before asking me a question, since i get a lot of asks and may ignore yours if it's answered here!

q: what program do you use to make your flags/edits and how? a: i use gimp on desktop! here's a simple flag tutorial i made and a basic flag splicing tutorial for multi-flag icons.

q: what's your header/icon? a: my icon is floofty fizzlebean from 'bugsnax' over the rikagender flag and my header is an edit i made of several bugsnax (scoopy, cinnasnail, instabug, charmallow, crystal sweetiefly, chocolant, and kwookie) in a similar format to the 'bugsnax' loading screen!

q: are you alright with requests involving [insert media]? a: if it's not in my general rules linked above, probably yes! if you're concerned for a specific reason (source content, shitty creator, etc.) please let me know in your ask; i don't know what's problematic about every piece of media!

q: i don't see my request in the inbox! can i resend it? a: yes! just resend it and let me know that you sent it previously while requests were open.

q: can i put your terms on [insert wiki] or [insert other social media site]? a: yes, as long as you credit me and do not reword my definitions, add additional definitions, etc.

q: can you tag [insert thing]? a: yes, i'll try my hardest to remember! feel free to remind me if i forget.

q: how long will it take for my request to be posted? how long will it take for you to get to my request? a: i can't definitively say, sorry! i try to make it so the queue has a month's worth or less of posts in it, but as for getting to your request, i don't really know for a number of reasons.

q: [insert post] should be tagged as eyestrain! a: thanks for letting me know! i struggle to determine what is eyestrainy a lot of the time, so i tag things as 'eyestrain' when i'm certain and 'potential eyestrain' when i'm not. if you're photosensitive, i recommend blocking both tags to be safe.

q: can i use one of your edits somewhere? a: yes, and i would strongly prefer if you credit me somewhere if you do.

q: are you alright with spam likes/reblogs? a: yes, and i appreciate your support and enthusiasm!

q: [insert nice thing] a: i cherish you so much and your ask probably will sit in my inbox forever along with all the other incredibly sweet asks i've received over the course of this blog!

q: [discourse] a: please Do Not.

lastly, here's a few resources you may find useful!

my taglist application, for if you want me to tag you in my coining posts/edits

my deviantart for flag templates and symbols

the pride-flags deviantart, which has a ton of high-res flags for mogai terms and more flag templates/symbols

my guide to finding mogai terms by name (and ensuring that you don’t name a new term after a preexisting one)

a guide to how i create names for my terms

an archive of pupyzu’s term suffixes carrd

a list of other mogai blogs i enjoy (hasn't been updated in a while, sorry!)

a beginner’s guide to request etiquette

my redbubble shop, where i’m happy to upload any other flags i’ve personally designed or edits i’ve made

[akookminsupporter]

just to add to one of the last anons, I’ve also seen so many posts talking about the small clips from the travel show teaser saying (example) “it would be so funny to see namjoon and seokjin snorkelling” etc and it just seems only about 2% of army can recognise jimin and jungkook and give them their own space! “Why didn’t X member get to do the travel show?” Well maybe X didn’t want to or had different priorities ??

Jikook clearly wanted to “make some memories” before MS and that seems clear as day, also under the guise of work and making content for whilst they’re serving. It’s the perfect scenario for both of them, esp. as they didn’t know if they would get buddy approved.

Can’t wait for the travel show, and feel lucky that it even exists tbh but online spaces might get toxic and fast, which is truly such a shame and i struggle to understand it. Are they afraid of jikook bc they think it might be more than friends or what? Bc if they adamantly deny they’re tg, what are you so afraid of then? Never seen it like this with other members EVER. Remember to protect your spaces ppl! dont give em attention and don’t let others ruin your enjoyment of things 🫶 jungkook said to look forward to it and enjoy it so i will😌

Ahhh yes, I've seen posts and tweets like that too. Honestly the o7ification of jikook is nothing new to any average jikooker. I mean when the clip with the pictures came out many people claimed that the guys on the bike were Jungkook and Tae. I don't remember anyone o7ifying the show Tae did with his friends, who have nothing to do with the fandom, for example. I definitely don't remember them questioning or lamenting or asking why other members weren't in it. Funny, isn't it? The problem seems to be when it comes to Jimin and Jungkook alone. Same with the dance show hobi did. Everyone understood that it was something they wanted to do with other people but that understanding doesn’t apply to jikook . It just doesn't make sense. If jikook is not real. If we are crazy, why are they always so pressed about it?

Those seven weeks will be tense in the fandom and as you say, it is preferable to take care of your spaces on social media. For my part, I have this blog so that will be my safe place. I don't follow many twitter accounts so I trust I won't see so much nonsense about it and whoever comes up talking sh!t, I will block them and that's it. No one is going to ruin that show for me.

[secretsstash]

Hello~!

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Living somewhere in Europe 🇵🇱

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