#if you want your ask to be anonymous you can say so and i will post the art without sharing the ask itself so only i will know it was you

[i-dared-myself]

Hard to Say

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: happy go lucky older sister figure of a skijigi that reader usually is has faded and reader is going through a ROUGH depressive episode constantly zoning out, isolated, barely eats, she doesn’t really talk to the boys anymore, gets caught crying a couple times, etc and obvi the boys help her out and remind her they’re there n all n just HEAVY angst and HEAVY comfort 

Cw: Reader is depressed and skips a couple meals. Plz plz plz don’t read if it might trigger something.

Being staff is fun. There’s pressure sure but not as much as the idols face.

Plus, you’re faceless. Your face is blurred if you are accidentally caught on camera, and you wear masks most of the time. 

But maybe… Maybe that isn’t the greatest sometimes.

You don’t really get recognized for your work. It’s just brushed aside so that the idols can shine. Which is fine. That’s your job. But it’s frustrating when no one appreciates the effort you put in.

So you work harder, and somehow end up working closely to Stray Kids. You wouldn’t say that you’re best friends with them, but they remember things about you. They remember when your lunch break is and just so happen to take their breaks at the same time.

But they’re just being nice. It’s their job, just as yours is to make them look good.

Although you find that you go on a lot more personal tasks for them. Like helping Hyunjin pick which pictures to use on his Instagram posts. Or listening as Jisung complains about a terrible anime ending.

But the working so hard has led to you being burnt out. You’re fallen into a pit of depression and can’t bring yourself to care.

You’re so immersed in your thoughts that you don’t even notice Minho until he’s settled in the chair next to yours.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously. 

You glance over your phone at him, crossing your legs. “Uh, just looking at some stuff. Do you need something?”

“No,” he says, opening his lunch. You continue to gaze at your phone, avoiding conversation. That’s too much work and you don’t care enough for it.

“Okay,” you reply, just as shortly as him. If you have a reunion of high school friends tomorrow, do you really have to go? You just don’t feel like having to force a smile.

“-I say?” Minho waves his hand in front of your face, scowling fiercely.

You blink at him unsurely. “Sorry?”

Mingi’s eyebrows draw together into an irritated expression you recognize as worry. “That’s what I thought. What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, absently deciding that you would have to go. Maybe it would be what you need to lift your spirits.

“There!” Minho thrusts an accusatory finger in your direction, lips tightening. “You just did it again! You keep zoning out!”

You huff and turn your face away. “No I’m not. I’m fine.”

“Minho!” Seungmin calls from the doorway. “Chan needs you. He wants your opinion on- Oh, hey.”

You force a strained smile at him. “Hi.”

Minho stands, glaring at you. “Eat your lunch. And don’t think that this talk isn’t over!”

You throw your lunch away as soon as he’s gone. Seungmin watches in mild concern, but doesn’t say anything.

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

The rest of your coworkers are going out for drinks. They invited you along, but you politely declined. You didn’t feel like forcing conversation with a bunch of people you don’t really know.

“Taking the bus home?” Changbin gently asks as you search your pockets for your phone.

“Yeah.” You locate your device and check the time before grabbing your non-eaten lunch. Maybe you’ll have it for dinner so you don’t have to cook or find dinner.

“Did you want a ride?” Changbin offers. “I was going that way.”

“No. I’m fine.” You turn and walk away, staring at your phone. You don’t have any texts or anything, but you don’t want to talk. It’s too tiring.

“Are you sure? Because I know that your usual route-“

“I’m fine!” Tears burn at your eyes and you wipe them away before he can see. But they’re spilling out faster than you can catch, and you’re beginning to hyperventilate. “I’m fine!”

“Hey, what’s-“ Changbin reaches out for you before drawing his hand away. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

You shake your head, but follow him to a bench anyways. The air outside the building is chilly, but you don’t care enough to pull the jacket tied on your waist over your shoulders.

“What’s going on?” Changbin softly asks. He ruffles your hair. “Did you have a bad day?”

You sniffle and rub at your eyes, avoiding eye contact. Changbin hums and doesn’t push the matter further.

The two of you sit in silence for a minute, before you see your bus drive by. You cry harder, knowing that you’ll have to wait even longer to crawl into bed.

“I can drive you home,” Changbin suggests again. “But did you want to talk about whatever this is?”

“No,” you say, shivering. “I just- I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, let’s get you home.” Changbin gets to his feet, passing his hands up your arms in an attempt to warm you. “I’m driving Jisung too if that’s okay. If you don’t want to deal with him right now, I can make him walk.”

You laugh. You laugh for the first time in what feels like weeks where you don’t have to force it out.

It feels good.

“No,” you respond, ignoring Changbin’s fond smile. “He can come.”

You only have to wait a little bit for Jisung to come skipping out of the building, grinning widely when he catches sight of you. He waves, and you muster the energy to give one back.

“We’re taking her home,” Changbin informs Jisung. “She gets to sit in the passenger’s seat and you get the back.”

“What? Why?” Jisung whines. He huffs in protest, crossing his arms. 

“No arguing,” Changbin sharply says. “Now get in the car before I leave you here.”

On the ride home, you somehow end up staring out the window in a daze. The conversation goes over your head as you zone out, not even thinking about anything in particular. 

Jisung reaches from the back to poke at your shoulder, startling you out of your state. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, sinking into your seat more. You see Changbin glance over before focusing on the road again. “Just… Nothing.”

“Okay,” Jisung hesitantly says. “But just, like, you can talk to us. We’re cool.”

“The coolest,” Changbin agrees.

“So if there’s anything bothering you, we’re here,” Jisung finishes.

You blink to stop tears from rolling out. “Okay. But I’m fine.”

And that night as you throw yourself into bed, you cry harder. Why is it so hard to tell someone?

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

A night out with old friends, as it turns out, didn’t help you. You’re still in this realm of melancholy and can’t seem to figure out how to tell someone.

People keep offering, and you keep rejecting help. Why? Why is it so hard?

“Hey.” Hyunjin sits next to you, opening his lunch. “What do you have?”

“Oh. I didn’t bring anything.” You stare into your coffee dully. 

“What?” Hyunjin glances over, lips thinning with disapproval. “Why not?”

“Don’t want it,” you murmur, standing up. You walk out of the lunchroom, ending your break early. You just need to keep yourself busy.

“Oh, hi!” Chan says as you push past him. “Isn’t it your lunch?”

“I think it is,” Felix chimes in, smiling widely at you. “Where are you going?”

“Wait, we’re going out for lunch?” Jeongin pokes his head out of a nearby room. 

“She didn’t eat lunch!” Hyunjin shouts, catching up to you. 

“What?” Chan narrows his eyes at you. “Is that true?”

“I don’t want it!” you snap. Then you’re crying in front of them. “I- I want to want it, but I don’t!”

“Hey,” Felix soothes, holding his arms out. “Come here.”

You bury yourself in his embrace, sniffling. Felix pats your head and rubs your back, whispering that you’re okay.

“Whats going on?” Seungmin asks as he wanders closer. “Oh. Um, is she okay?”

“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Chan gently coaxes, peeling you away from Felix so that he can comfort you.

“I- I don’t want to,” you sob, hiding your face against his chest. Before you know it, the entire group has gathered around you, searching for ways to solve whatever it is that’s been bothering you.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself,” Minho says. He sighs heavily, frowning. “I - We, I mean, don’t like seeing you unhappy.”

“Why don’t we all take the day off and go out for boba,” Changbin suggests. “Our treat.”

“She didn’t want to eat, idiot!” Jisung hisses, smacking Changbin’s arm.

“S- Sure,” you hiccup out. You rub at your eyes, feeling exhausted and maybe a little hungry now.

“Nice idea, genius!” Jisung claps Changbin’s shoulder. Changbin shoots him an amused look.

Jeongin burrows his way between you and Chan, blinking at you with wide eyes. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I- I think I’m just burnt out,” you quietly say. It’s hard to admit, and now you’re crying more, but also feeling relieved in a sense.

“Let’s go get boba.” Seungmin grabs your arm and drags you away. “And then we’ll get you some time off work.”

“Seungmin is besties with JYPapi,” Hyunjin jokes, ruffling your hair. “We can make it work.”

“And don’t bottle it up next time,” Minho scolds. 

“What, you’re going to tell her what to do?” Jisung raises an eyebrow. “What would you even do about it?”

Minho cracks his knuckles. “Wanna find out?”

“So tell us the next time something like this happens, okay?” Chan softly says to you as Jisung screams and runs away from Minho. “Even if we can’t help, I want to know. We care, because we’re your friends.”

You nod, taking Seungmin’s hand in yours. “Alright.”

Jisung sprints past, followed closely by a cackling Minho.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @mbioooo0000

[bktempted]

Last train. The bass from the party still thumps dimly in your ears as you stand on the near deserted platform. It's late, much later than you intended, and the chill night air prickles against your skin, a stark contrast to the sweaty crush of bodies you just left. Your ride ditched you, and now, this train is your only option.

You check the schedule again on your phone, screen glaringly bright in the dim station. Yep, the last one. The one the old station attendant just warned you about.

"You sure about this one, miss?" he'd asked, polishing the already gleaming ticket counter. "Got a bit of a... reputation, that last train. Folks say strange things happen on it." He lowered his voice. "Especially for a lone women. Heard whispers... probably just talk, mind you, but..."

You'd waved him off with a smile, buying your ticket. "It's my only way home. Besides," you added, a spark of something reckless igniting within you, "I’m sure I can handle it."

He just shook his head, muttering about foolish youth. But he didn't know the half of it. You had heard the rumors. Vague, dark whispers online, late night forum threads, stories dismissed as urban legends. A train where rules didn't apply, where inhibitions vanished, where... things happened. Things you usually only read about in the anonymous corners of the internet.

Most days, you'd dismiss it too. But tonight... tonight was different. The party, the drinks, the lingering buzz of adrenaline — it all combined into a heady cocktail of boredom and curiosity. A dangerous little voice in the back of your mind whispered, what if it's true?

The distant rumble grows louder, headlights cutting through the darkness. The train slides into the station, brakes hissing. It looks ordinary enough, maybe a bit older, a bit more worn than the usual commuter carriages. The doors slide open with a pneumatic sigh.

You hesitate for only a second. This is it. The point of no return. Turn back, call an expensive cab, wait an hour in the cold? Or step aboard?

A thrill, sharp and illicit, courses through you. You want to know. You want to see if the rumors hold a grain of truth. With a deep breath, you step over the threshold.

The doors hiss shut behind you, the sound unnervingly final. The carriage isn't empty. Far from it. But as your eyes adjust to the low, flickering light, you notice it. Only men. Seated, standing, leaning against the poles – a dozen or so, maybe more. And they're all looking at you.

No one speaks. The air is thick with unspoken tension. It's not overtly threatening, not yet, but it's undeniably... predatory. Eyes trace the lines of your body, lingering. You feel stripped bare, even fully clothed. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels on the tracks.

You expected something, but the reality of being the sole woman, the focus of so many intense, male gazes, is overwhelming. You grip the cold metal pole near the door. You told yourself you wanted this, wanted to tempt fate. Well, here it is.

———

The silence stretches, broken only by the steady clack-clack-clack of the wheels on the tracks. It’s a hypnotic metronome, pulling you deeper into the strange reality of this carriage. Their eyes are still on you, a collective weight you can feel pressing against your skin. There’s no conversation, no pretense of normalcy. It’s raw, stripped down to the base awareness of male and female, predator and… well, you’re not entirely sure you’re prey. Not when you walked into this willingly, a dangerous curiosity burning brighter than any fear.

Your breath hitches as one man detaches himself from the group near the connecting door. He’s tall, dressed in dark clothes, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He doesn’t hurry, his deliberate steps echoing slightly in the tense quiet. He stops a few feet away, simply watching you. Waiting.

You meet his gaze, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. This is it. The moment the fantasy becomes real. You chose this. You wanted to know what happened on the midnight train. You lick your lips, a nervous gesture that feels amplified, almost performative, in this charged space.

His eyes track the movement, a flicker of something dark — hunger — crossing his features. He takes another step, closing the distance. He reaches out, not fast, not threateningly, but with undeniable intent. His fingers brush against the side of your neck, tracing the line of your jaw. You don't pull away. You can’t. You won't. This is the price of admission.

His thumb sweeps across your lower lip, and you gasp softly. The sound seems deafening. Another man moves closer then, from your other side. You feel the heat of his body before he even touches you. A hand settles on your waist, firm and possessive. Your breath stops in your throat. It’s happening.

Slowly, inevitably, others begin to close in. Not rushing, but surrounding you, a tightening circle of male presence. Hands ghost over your arms, your back, your hips. Each touch stripping away layers of inhibition you didn't even realize you still possessed. The air grows thick with the scent of cologne and sweat.

Someone tugs gently at the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the bare skin of your stomach. You shiver, arching slightly into the touch. Another hand slides into your hair, tilting your head back. You find yourself looking up into a pair of intense, dark eyes. He doesn't speak, just searches your face, as if gauging your reaction. He sees the flush rising on your cheeks, the slight parting of your lips, the way your breathing has quickened.

A low murmur ripples through the men, a collective understanding passing between them. The energy shifts, sharpens. The initial tension breaks, replaced by a palpable wave of lust. His mouth descends towards yours. Just before contact, you hear the train horn blow, long and low, a mournful sound swallowed by the night. But the train doesn't slow. It barrels onward, faster now, it seems, deeper into the darkness.

His kiss is demanding. It’s not gentle, not tentative. It’s a claim. And you meet it with equal force. The fear is melting away, consumed by a burgeoning heat pooling low in your belly. This is overwhelming, terrifying, and utterly, intoxicatingly exciting.

More hands are on you now, bolder, more intimate. Sliding under your clothes, exploring curves, eliciting gasps and moans that you barely recognize as your own. You feel yourself being pressed back against the cool metal wall of the carriage, the vibrations of the train mingling with the tremors caused by exploring fingers.

Eyes closed, you give yourself over to the sensations. The scrape of stubble against your cheek, the heat of breath on your neck, the surprising tenderness of one hand cupping your face while another explores more boldly. It's a dizzying kaleidoscope of touch and pressure. You're surrounded, engulfed, the center of a vortex of attention you secretly craved.

Someone lifts you effortlessly, setting you onto one of the worn vinyl seats. Clothes are being pushed aside, buttons undone, zippers lowered. Your own hands become bolder, reaching out, touching firm chests, strong arms. You're no longer just receiving; you're participating, driven by a desperate, rising need. The warnings, the rumors — they didn't prepare you for the sheer intensity of this, the complete surrender of control, the raw, primal energy filling the carriage.

The clatter of the train is the only constant, a driving beat beneath the sounds of heavy breathing, rustling clothes, and your own increasingly vocal pleasure. There's no turning back. The train speeds on, taking you further and further into the night, and deeper into the fantasy you dared to chase.

———

Things are getting rougher now, teeth clashing, tongues demanding entry. It’s a raw claiming, and you meet it head on, a groan vibrating in your chest. Hands are tangled in your hair, holding you steady as another man’s mouth finds the sensitive curve of your neck, sucking a mark onto your skin that you know will bloom dark tomorrow – a souvenir. You gasp, arching into the dual assault on your senses.

Your top is gone now, pulled away impatiently, followed swiftly by your bra. Cool air hits your bare skin for only a moment before warm hands cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples with exquisite pressure. You cry out, the sound swallowed immediately by a kiss. Fingers pinch and pull, sending bolts of pure pleasure straight down to your core, where a frantic heat is building, demanding attention.

You feel hands at the waistband of your jeans, the button popping open, the zipper sliding down with agonizing slowness. Rough denim scrapes against your thighs as they’re pushed down your legs, taking your panties with them. Kicks send them somewhere into the dimly lit carriage. You’re completely exposed now, laid bare on the worn seat, the slightly sticky vinyl presssing against your back.

A hand slides between your legs, fingers finding you slick and ready. You gasp, hips bucking instinctively off the seat. He groans, a low, appreciative sound, as his fingers dip inside you, stretching you, learning your shape. Another man kneels on the floor before you, his face buried between your thighs. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, tracing patterns that make you writhe. The combination is electric – both invasion and worship all at once.

You reach out blindly, hands finding hard muscle, belt buckles, the straining fabric of trousers. You want to touch them, feel them, return some measure of this overwhelming sensory input. Your fingers fumble with a button fly, freeing hot, hard flesh. The man whose cock you now hold groans your name, or maybe it’s just a guttural sound of need, pushing himself into your hand.

The man kissing you pulls back slightly, lips swollen, eyes dark with feral hunger. He looks down at the other man pleasuring you with his mouth, then back to your face, a possessive glint in his eyes. More hands are on you, stroking your legs, your stomach, your arms. You feel utterly consumed, adrift on a sea of sensation. Every nerve ending is on fire, overloaded.

The man kneeling before you increases his tempo, his tongue relentless, driving you higher and higher. Your moans become louder, less inhibited. You hear the rustle of more clothing, the low murmurs of the men watching, waiting. The air is thick with the scent of arousal, yours and theirs.

Just as you feel the first ripples of climax building from the insistent pressure between your legs, the man above you positions himself. You feel the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, nudging past the fingers still buried inside you. He pauses, letting you feel his size, his heat. You meet his gaze, a silent question asked and answered. You nod, almost imperceptibly, lifting your hips to meet him.

He thrusts forward, filling you completely. A sharp cry escapes you, a mixture of pain and overwhelming pleasure. He’s thick, stretching you wide. He stays still for a moment, buried deep inside, letting you adjust, letting the men surrounding you watch. The man at your thighs hasn’t stopped, his tongue now working in rhythm with the pulsing pressure inside you.

Then, the first man begins to move. Slow, deep thrusts that rock your whole body. The rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the train wheels re-emerges, a primal beat driving you both. Another man takes one of your hands, bringing your fingers to his mouth, sucking on them gently. Someone else strokes your hair back from your sweat-damp forehead.

It’s too much, yet not nearly enough. Every touch, every thrust, every lick sends shockwaves through you. The climax that was building before surges back, stronger this time, fueled by the friction inside and the relentless attention above and below. Your vision blurs. The faces around you become indistinct shapes in the flickering light. All that exists is the pounding within you, the slick slide of flesh on flesh, the hot mouths, the grasping hands, and the relentless, driving motion of the train carrying you deeper into the debauchery you craved.

You cry out again as the orgasm hits, intense and shattering, arching your back off the seat, your body convulsing around the man buried deep inside you. But it's far from over. Even as the waves of pleasure begin to recede, you feel him continue to thrust, and you see another man positioning himself, ready to take his place, or maybe even join him. The train shows no signs of stopping. And neither do they.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION, PRINCESS"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH TANGERINE

(With my idea of enemies to lovers with him lol)

I hope you like it!

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

You and Tangerine were coworkers.

Anonymous people paid you to take care of certain jobs that no one else wanted to do.

So there you were, on the bullet train on your way to Tokyo.

This time, you couldn't travel first class, since your contact didn't pay for those seats, but rather for a cabin you had to share. It's worth mentioning that you didn't get along well.

When they told you he would be your partner, you tried your best, but as the days went by, his dislike for you became increasingly evident, as did yours for him.

The two of you tried not to argue over stupid things for more than three fucking minutes, but it was impossible, since you had little patience and Tangerine kept saying stupid things to get you to argue with him.

When you saw the hovel you had to share, you decided to do what you always did: try not to talk too much to get through the trip as best you could without arguments.

As soon as you got in, you asked for the bed next to the door, complete with its nightstand, so he took the other one, which didn't even have room to charge his phone.

You smiled when you saw him sit up in bed, holding his head in his hands while cursing loudly. "I wish it had been faster," you thought, sitting up in bed.

You were dead tired, but you still wanted to do some writing before going to sleep. You turned on the nightlight and placed your computer on your knees so you could type. After exactly 45 minutes, he turned to you.

"Turn off the fucking light," he complained, frowning. "What the hell are you writing?"

"My will, in case you kill me during the night," you blurted out as you continued typing, partially ignoring him.

"I'm serious, whatever you're writing can wait until tomorrow," he growled, pulling the thin blanket up.

"You're an asshole," you blurted out, tired of his comments.

"Fuck! You're…" he gritted his teeth tightly to keep from saying what he was thinking before speaking again. "Look, we're still hours away from our destination, which means we're going to have to share this place for quite some time, which means you need to be fucking reasonable." he looked at his wristwatch. "It's 1 a.m. Now go to sleep already."

You didn't reply, so he opted to get up and pull the bottle of alcohol he'd taken from the dining car out from under the bed. You raised an eyebrow, making him shrug.

"Don't give me that look," he blurted out. "If you insist on keeping me awake at this hour, I'm going to drink to drown my sorrows." He offered you the bottle. "It's vodka, it's strong," he warned. You frowned even more. "Hey, the guy who hired us forced us to share this shitty booth," he said, pointing out the obvious. "The least we can do is lighten the situation by giving him a little joy." He gestured with the bottle again. "Take it."

That's what you did. You held it in your hands and took a long swig before giving it to him again. He drank too and set it aside, shaking his head as the alcohol ran down his throat with force and settled in his stomach.

"See?" "Nothing happened," he snorted. "I'm sure you feel a little lighter now."

"Maybe," you muttered, not entirely agreeing with him. "You did really well at work the other day," he blurted out, surprising you. "I didn't know you could handle katanas like that. It was impressive."

"Was that a compliment?" you questioned. "Wow, it really hit you fast," you said, nodding at the bottle of alcohol.

"I'm not drunk yet, honey," he whispered. "It takes a lot more than that to knock me out."

"Okay," you laughed, taking another sip, not enough to be drunk, but enough to make me feel pleasantly dizzy. "Why are you being such a jerk to me?" you asked. He knew there was no way he could get out of answering, so he did. "I realize I can be a little… critical at times, but I'm the number one jerk at this," he maintained. "No one can do this better than me."

"You didn't answer the question," you observed. "Why are you so irritable?"

"Maybe because someone didn't turn off the fucking light at a normal hour so I could go to sleep," he snarled, boring into you with his blue gaze. He shook his head, as if he'd realized his tone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you," he murmured, his head bowed for a moment before taking another sip of vodka. "The alcohol's helping a lot," he observed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," you blurted out simply, making him smile.

"I guess we both needed to take the edge off a bit," he murmured. "Especially you, you've been very tense since we got on the train," he chuckled at the look on your face. "Although I guess I can't blame you." You're trapped here with me

You felt an electricity, the overwhelming urge that was pulsing between you like a living organism.

You didn't know if it was because the alcohol had begun to take its toll on you, or because you were feeling brave at that moment, but you took a deep breath before speaking.

"Say what you have to say."

"I have nothing to say."

"You're lying," you smiled. "You're fucking asshole at it, I've told you countless times not to."

"You tilted your head at him. "Spit it out."

He thought about it for a few moments, during which he took another sip from the bottle, before resting his elbows on his knees, so that they brushed against yours.

"Okay," he agreed, his gaze fixed on you intensely. "I find you incredibly, ridiculously, distractingly attractive," he confessed.

Of all the things he could have said, that was the one you least expected. You stared at him as if his skin had suddenly turned green.

"And being locked up here with you alone…" he shook his head. "Well, like I said, the alcohol is helping."

You sat up straighter in bed, trying to find a steady position, but to no avail. You raised your arms to stretch, revealing the shape of your breasts beneath the thin pajama top you were wearing.

Tangerine's gaze couldn't help but drop there, before returning to yours.

"Are you trying to make fun of me?" she whispered. "I don't like jokes, baby," he warned. "We've known each other long enough for you not to know." His body betrayed him, and his gaze dropped again. "Look at you, without a bra…" He pressed his lips together tightly. "You have to stop, princess."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like being made fun of, and if you keep doing that, I'm going to have to do something about it," he decreed, his tone making something deep inside you twitch nervously.

"Oh yeah?" you asked playfully. "Tell me what you'd do," you murmured.

He swore softly, making you smile. His deep, intense blue eyes looked down at you before he nodded toward you.

"Take that off, baby. I want to see you," he growled, watching your every move closely.

He didn't have to ask you twice.

He stared at you when you obeyed, patting the edge of his bed with the palm of his hand.

"Come here," he commanded softly.

His hands rested on your hips, possessive yet gentle. You felt the cold of his rings against your skin as he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips covered yours with need and calm, as if he couldn't wait to devour you but at the same time wanted to do it slowly so you could enjoy every minute of it.

He kissed your collarbone and neck before teasing your breasts before pulling away to look at you.

"Did you like that?" he asked. You nodded, unable to answer, overwhelmed by all the sensations you were experiencing.

But that didn't help.

He placed his hand on your throat, not applying any pressure, simply so you could feel his fingers wrapping around the base of your neck.

"Answer the fucking question, princess," he demanded softly.

"Yes, I liked it," you moaned, causing him to remove his hand from your neck.

"Good girl," he smiled, causing you to sigh against his mouth. "Now stand up and take off your pants," he whispered. "I want to know how you taste."

When you got rid of them, he stepped back for a moment to admire the view, making you feel desired, which you enjoyed more than you were willing to admit.

"Shit," he blurted out. "Now how am I supposed to focus on the other jobs, knowing what you were hiding underneath all that?" “Baby, you’ve been wanting me as much as I’ve been wanting you,” he gave an amused smile. “Maybe you’ve been wanting me more, seeing how quickly you’ve taken off your clothes.”

“Even now, you can’t help being an asshole,” you blurted out, making his smile widen.

“Maybe so, but I’m the asshole who’s going to fuck you, gorgeous,” he growled, making you blush violently.

He pulled you onto his lap and kissed you again.

This time, the kiss was more needy as you felt his fingers wrap around your clit, causing you to gasp against his mouth.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” he growled as he kissed you, sliding his fingers deeper and deeper inside you.

You bucked your hips against him, and within seconds, you felt your lower belly tense, warning you that your impending orgasm was about to arrive.

-Please Tangerine… - you gasped - please…

-Ask me nicely, baby - he whispered - ask, and I'll give it to you

-Please Tangerine, make me cum, please…

-It's hard to refuse if you ask so politely - he whispered, tugging at your clit between his fingers - but you're going to cum with my cock, like I know you want to - he said - sit down and spread your legs for me - he ordered, he shook his head - more - he said before nodding - that's it baby, such a good girl for me…

He sank into you gently at first, then began to move his hips against you with pure need.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted you like this, underneath me?” he growled in your ear. “Do you know?”

“I know,” you gasped, scratching his back with each thrust. “Please, Tangerine…”

“I have you, baby,” he said. “Cum for me.”

That’s what you did, unloading against him hard, just as he did moments later.

“Shit,” he took a deep breath, trying to catch his breath, just like you.

“That was very…” he whispered before giving a knowing smile. “Now I guess we can both sleep at a decent hour,” he said. “For once, don’t argue and come here, please.”

He opened his arms and you snuggled against his firm, solid chest.

-Let me hold you while you rest- he whispered in your ear- work doesn't matter now- he said- now I just want to rest with you, we'll deal with work tomorrow, together- he murmured- after all, we get along very well now

[redlenai]

I'll be honest, when I heard these audios the only thing I could imagine was projection, Dylan is really insulting you through what seems to be the very same things that they are doing, sounds like the behavior is theirs.

For a few weeks, I've shared a small server with them that focused on Mouthwashing Ocs, the Server wasn't very active but I remember I felt a bit... odd? When I saw Dylan's character bio, I think it was through their Toy.House or something similar. I remember it struck me as odd the fact they put A LOT of effort in trying to make their Self-Insert's bio to match the Mouthwashing Wiki, I also remember reading the whole thing but noticing there was some... issues connecting certain parts of the backstory, or aspects that weren't mentioned at first but later were. I didn't say anything because well, no one likes unsolicited advice nor I thought it would have been nice to be the only one not complimenting them and especially on some narrative stuff (I ain't a writer so, yeah I just saved it to myself, also don't get me wrong! I admire those that put such effort onto their ocs and fancharacters, I even felt bad I got this feeling specifically with Dylan, unlike others in the MW or even other fandoms)

When the whole incident happen, I wasn't sure about what to do. I've only complimented people there and shared some of my drawings and renders, Dylan wasn't very active there to be honest. And I would say, I also kept my activity to the minimum when I realized the server was 13+, I rather keep my interactions with minors short, I don't mind giving advice, encouraging them on their AUs or creative journey, providing resources or art tools, but that's it. I left the server mostly because I didn't feel safe, yeah, it sounds dumb a 27 years old woman feels unsafe... but having an oc that is being shipped with Jimmy even in a nice AU kind of makes it predictable about the possible outcomes from others, and I also worried a lot for my fellow Anya-shippers friends. At first I wasn't sure if to leave, as I thought that would lead to possible trouble, like giving a "I'm siding with Joetastic" kind of indirect answer. But when the other document dropped, that's when I realized that Dylan left the server, so I deleted everything and did as well. Then I attempted to make a ticket to notify the Wrong Organ server just in case, while I was at it I noticed that Dylan's username went from blue to white, meaning he left.

Something that has been bugging me ever since both your Document and the other one were made public, its the fact that from what it seems Dylan also commited sexual abuse towards one of his ex-partners, besides the emotional and financial abuse, if I'm reading the document correctly as they were subtle about it.

I may be reaching, but considering that they used HE back when they started with their model and all that jazz... like, I feel sorry for those that transition, are still finding themselves and I hope none of them get shoved inside a bag and get generalized, especially today when it is Transgender Day of Visibility, but it seems that Dylan started using she/they as a means to be better seen especially while shipping themselvse with Anya? I mean, by how... twisted they seem to be I think that could be a possibility, Joe didn't misgender them and so didn't other people if we look back at the dates... but now Dylan claimed that Joe misgendered them when in fact Joe apologized when corrected.

Another thing I've been suspecting is the fact that both in Strawpage and Tumblr you can send self-gimmicks/asks. On Strawpage you don't need it, but in Tumblr you'll need to log-in and turn the anonymous filter on if you want to hide your identity while sending yourself an ask, now of course haters would take advantage of being mean towards literally anyone involved. But, it could have been a possibility that either Dylan and/or some of their friends sent anonymous asks as a means to stir more drama, blame Joe and his fans, get pitied, etc... Lying on the internet is easy, typing is easy, especially when cornered.

Like, it kind of adds up if I keep in mind the document and the timing of things. An abuser changing their gender in order to be shipped with a character that is a victim of sexual abuse, someone who shared similar traits to the protagonist of the game; like the hero complex, narcissism, manipulation, lack of accountability, immaturiry, gaslighting, projection and its tremendously jealous at the point of trying to turn people against the person Dylan feels overshawed by via harassement, lies, etc. And in fact the way how Dylan says it in the audio even seems as if they are repeating words without even realizing its depth and meaning.

It's wild to think that he accuses Joe of sexualising a female character, while... they do the same, just that probably under wraps because Dylan cares about his image and trying to manipulate the narrative by being misleading. Funny how during their rant they go around, making jokes and the irony of trying to call Joe Jimmytastic when in fact the one that has a record in 3 different fandoms for having shitty abusive behavior is them...

To be honest, I don't understand much about the whole non-sharing, aggresive, jealous, sould-bonding thing about self-shipping with a fictional character that doesn't belong to you but I do feel bad for the Yumeshippers, selfshippers that don't go out of their way spreading lies and being abusive, aggressive and completely deranged towards other people instead of counting their losses and know that they cannot control everything and everyone or be possesive over something that is not even their property....

And I hope people to not generalize nor prejudge others because of it.

Tho, what matters is that Joe and all those people that fell Victims of Dylan get better, are able to heal and remember they are supported. So please the rest, either try to apologize if you were mislead, it won't be your fault for being deceived, just remember to offer some love to the victims

They might seem like a nice person in public.

But this is who Dylan/ @anyamusumesonlywife really is behind the scenes.

[lurkingshan]

Hi! I really enjoyed your long essay on ThamePo -- I was looking for some commentary on the links between Only Boo! and ThamePo and I stumbled onto your essay. I have tried signing up for Tumblr but I'm still finding my way. I wrote a long essay about Only Boo! and I'd like to post it somewhere; I was going to do it in the comments section of BL Watcher's site but they have never reviewed Only Boo! and a few days ago they stopped posting again after a several month hiatus earlier this year. What do you suggest I do about the essay? I can send it to you if you'd like to read it.

Hi and welcome to tumblr! I’d love to read what you wrote about ThamePo and Only Boo! I was thinking a lot about the connections between them and the big differences in their commentary on idol and fan culture while watching. Here are a few tips for posting meta here (this is what we call essays about media):

Anything you want to post, you do on your own blog. The way to help others find it is to tag it (you’ll see the tags on this post below the main text). On tumblr, we use tags both as an organization and as a sharing tool—people track tags for stuff they’re interested in. So when you post your essay, tag it with relevant show tags and others will find it. For this one, you can use: [#thamepo, #thamepo the series, #only boo, #only boo the series].

If there are certain people you want to make sure see your post, you can also @ them either in the body of the post or in the replies. When you post your essay, you can tag me by adding @lurkingshan and tumblr will send me a notification, ensuring I see the post.

Labeling the post clearly (like with a title that includes the show names) also helps, because once others reblog your post, people will also see it on their dashboards and if they’re interested in the shows the title will catch their eye.

And a few general tips for using tumblr:

You should add a profile pic to your account. Not of yourself—tumblr is an anonymous website so most people just use pictures from media they like or want to discuss (so you might just pick an image from ThamePo). This helps assure people you are a real person and not a bot.

The best way to get folks to see and engage with what you write is to do the same for them. Go into the [#thamepo] tag and interact with other people’s posts. You can like, comment, or reblog on posts, and you can follow blogs whose style or content you like. This will tell people you exist and are interested in the same content.

Reblogging is the most important feature on this site because it’s how we help other people see content we like. Reblogging promotes posts by putting it onto the dashboards of anyone who follows the reblogger. Once you follow a blog, everything they post or reblog will appear on your dashboard. When you reblog you can also add commentary in the tags either addressed to the original poster (that’s what people mean when they say “op”) or just add your own thoughts to whatever they said. This is one of the most common ways tumblr users talk to each other.

Sending asks like this one is always welcome and a good way to get to know people, as well.

I hope this helps! Definitely feel free to tag me when you get your essay posted.

[alphagodith]

sad times when you get an ask and are all excited thinking someone requested a wizard doodle and then it turns out to be a spammer/scammer trying to get you to give them money/tell your followers to give them money.

[crownedwille]

No, I don't expect him to remain unchanged from when he was 18. However, his online demeanor and behavior have undergone a noticeable shift, and it has become rather unappealing. It seems like he is pretending to be edgy to please his very unlikable girlfriend. I listened to her podcast before they even became a couple; she radiates mean-girl energy and thinks she is edgy and cool. They once called Edvin "soft" and "not punk enough". She's trying to change him into a boy she likes, and he seems to be going along with it to please her. In time, he'll probably regret what he has been doing. You probably won't post this, it's OK, but you miss the point of what so many decent fans are saying. We aren't trolls; we have eyes and can understand what is going on. Anyway, have a nice time defending him.

Yep there it is. It boils down to not liking his girlfriend, its the same in every fandom I've been in, misogyny at its finest again

I'm glad you 'decent fans' know him all so much better than he knows himself and can see right through it and of course you know what's best for him and are entitled to comment on his personal life

This was quite funny reading, thank you for making me laugh

I will have a nice time defending him, thank you😘

[cowboy-robooty]

not going to name names bc thats messed up but omfg i was tryna find records of old heta fandom shit to show inu right and i found a hetalia iceberg and I SAW MY 2019 OPP ON THERE. IT WAS SO FUCKING FUNNY LIKE MY EYES BULGED OUT OF MY SKULL BECAUSE IM NOT EVEN JOKING I HATED THIS BITCH SO MUCH WHEN I WAS 14 AND NGL I STILL HATE HER. I DIDNT SAY NOTHING AND KEPT CURTIOUS AND NORMAL OBVIOUSLY BUT ON THE INSIDE I WANTED HER ASS DEAD EVERYDAY AND WELL... you all know im never in the loop with things and had no fucking clue that she was just the antichrist for an entire group of people lol. SHE WAS MY ANTICHRIST THO. I HATED HER AND SHE HATED ME OKAY AND IM LIKE RODF SEEING HOW SHES ON THE FUCKING HETALIA ICEBERG I WAS LIKE OMG.... I THOUGHT ONLY I FUCKING DESPISED HER

[aroaceleovaldez]

Dude I don’t know where you’re getting this information that 13-14 guys can’t be tall at all. Literally every guy in my freshman high school grade (13-15 year olds) were all 5’6-6’0 at the beginning of the school year and they were all actively growing taller as the year went by. Letting people think Nico is average height or tall is not hurting nobody and you are still entitled to your opinion that Nico can be short. I believe all of Nico’s of various heights can coexist peacefully.

I did say "average" height and was only referring to the fact that Nico's canon height is never explicitly stated. Anyways allow me to rephrase:

my grievances only lie with the wiki for being baselessly wrong. tall nico headcanoners i have no beef with you understand i am simply being silly goofy on my blog mwah mwah

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

On tumblr when you post you’re just playing Russian roulette with your post getting attention, but it’ll probably get ignored.

On Reddit any comment you make outside of some very niche community will immediately have someone downvoting you and calling you like, three different insults. Then they will wonder why you only log in every couple months. Like, it’s a very helpful website when you have a question for another community you’re in, but you’ll also get someone being immediately hostile when you make an innocuous post on a garden subreddit 😑

At least on tumblr people have to actually seek out your random ass text posts and go out of their way to start shit, and you don’t have the up and down vote system that feels like playing with my self confidence and worth issues.

Both websites are toxic part of the time (what social media isn’t?) and both are actually more useful for weird people, but holy shit does Reddit feel more aggressive about shit. Maybe it’s just the devil you know, but at least on this mess of a website half your hate will be for the most random shit and misunderstandings that people have to seek out finding if your blog is a normal size. Reddit is either posting on a dead sub or getting immediately thrown to the, well, sharks and wolves aren’t actually super aggressive towards humans under normal circumstances, so something else that could tear you apart instantly for just existing in the same space as them.

[xoxoemynn]

Im sorry in advance if this brings up feelings for you (i think ut was youbat least?you were taking to an anon abt break ups) but i have no one to talk abt this. Being ghosted is truly Insane. Never experienced ny break up, or anything really, quite like this. Im between bewilderment and astonishment tbh. One day hes ill call you tomorrow and its been a week and a half and crickets, an almost 2 year realtionship down the drain. No explanations, nothing at all. One day youre happily in love and the next youre wondering wtf is going on. Another level of insne. Anyway, fuck them

Oh, hello me from two years ago, fancy seeing you here.

It really is awful. It's painful and bewildering and it makes you second guess every interaction you had with them. It destroys your ability to trust -- your memories, yourself, and others. It's cruel and cowardly and ngl, it can take a really long time to get over.

But now that I'm very safely on the other side, I can more understand what my friends were all telling me in the moment: that it's not a reflection of me, or even our relationship. It's on them. If you're ghosting your partner that you've been in a long-term committed relationship with, it's pretty clear there is something that you need to work on, whether it's simple emotional immaturity or something deeper.

I spent a lot of time wondering if there was something I could have done differently, if there was some clue that I had missed, if there was some reason I should have known better, if there was something I could still do to salvage everything... and the answer is no. Because again, it's not about you. It's about your former partner's inability to handle conflict/confrontation/messy emotions in a relationship.

Anyway, sending you lots of love, dear anon. I know it's extremely painful right now but you'll get through it, I promise. 💕

[elegy-if]

how gory is the game going to be?

well... gore isn't my strongest suit, but i don't think i'm awful at it or else i wouldn't be writing a story with such a gory premise (+ i want to get better at it lol). it's not the goriest thing, imo? but i mainly read horror novels so take that with a grain of salt.

[wutheringmights]

what is wars diagnosed with. I know he has them I just don't know which ones.

I would prefer if we didn't pathologize Warriors

[yuwuta]

inuokko.... yuu2... yuwuta do i dare ask you how you feel about okkofushi next?

ofc you can but be prepared for me to be very unnormal about everything mentioned in this ask 😁😁🤒

[taexual]

Do you also read fanfictions? I am writing one but since English is not my mother language, I am afraid to actually post it lmao. Could you read? See if there's any grammar mistakes and if it flows naturally as it should. But if you cant, dont worry. I totally understand

hii, i don't really do beta reading/editing, sorry!! i can suggest some helpful tools, though, such as grammarly or instatext -- i've used both myself, and they're great! instatext requires a subscription, but you get a free trial period and can edit small portions of text for free every day

and if you think you'd prefer a person to read through it for you, you can always make a public post on tumblr, and ask if anyone would be interested!!!

regardless, have confidence, love!!! you're doing great 🤍🤍🤍

[princekirijo]

What is the big difference between regular Riku and black mask Riku? Like what changed in his story to change his motivations and methods?

Thanks for the ask :]

So Black Mask AU (or Black Captain/Dark Captain I haven't entirely settled on a name) is a new game plus AU and that's important to explain the changes in his motivations!

The AU starts exactly the same as Captain, Riku moves to Tokyo, Hatanaka is a piece of shit to him, he meets the thieves and they start investigating her palace. However this time round, something in the palace goes wrong and the thieves end up failing the deadline. And failing the deadline for Hatanaka's palace... results in Riku's death :] (putting it shortly Riku is more useful to her dead than alive so she has him killed)

That should have been the end of him, however he wakes up immediately after getting shot. After being understandably disorientated he realizes he's somehow been transported to 2/3 years prior to the events of Captain (a couple of months before he was due to move to Tokyo) and he has all his memories intact, right up until the point he was shot.

This understandably messes him up a lot because he went through hell and on top of that he remembers everything he learnt during Hatanaka's palace (I won't go into much of that as its spoilers for the main AU). He also decides to go into the Metaverse in Port Island because he still has access to it, and its here he awakens to his black mask persona (Mordred who I ADORE lmao) and where he first kills someone (albeit by accident).

As for his motivations someone put it really well once, spite in general is a huge motivator for Riku in both AUs! Black Mask Riku basically takes the idea of him being motivated by spite to a whole new level, as his main goal in the AU is to get revenge on those who wronged him and who caused his death in the original timeline. He's here and alive in spite of these people and he is sure as hell going to make their life hell.