#it blows my mind how much fucked up shit happens in this world because greedy assholes filled with hate are able to convince SO MANY PEOPLE

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Me: *Reading QoAaD*

The Cohort: *does cohorty things*

Downworlders and others who are aware of mundane history: Hey! This is not good! Like at all! This will just get worse! I know this because this has literally happened before and your stubborn refusal to admit that mundane history matters is gonna lead to some really tragic shit!!!

Shadowhunters (who are basically an endangered species rn because of two wars they fought only 5 years ago that happened because they fell for the exact same propaganda from a man just like Dearborn and the Cohort) :*falls for Circle Cohort propaganda*

Shadowhunters: Uhhhh you’re not trustworthy or something…shadowhunters are the best! We could never be wrong!! Let’s continue to scapegoat entire groups of people because we obviously are the only people worth anything at all!!!

Magnus Bane: *the most exasperated and exhausted sigh to ever be sighed*

Me: Wow this book is a great example of why learning from history is important in order to stop it from repeating itself.

Me: *thinks about everything that is CURRENTLY HAPPENING IN THE ACTUAL REAL WORLD RIGHT NOW*

Me: *through tears and gritted teeth* Good thing this book is fictional 🥲

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[sugar-petals]

🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces

↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀

word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7

WARNINGS. ⚠️  all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack

⌜ 💋  byun baekhyun ⌟

▸ strength: energy

not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that

i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.

case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.

whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.

yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter

small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well

endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire

like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised

meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation

such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes

swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun

does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do

eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him

the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout

slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams

baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake

brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me

also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined

not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him

you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO

since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something

you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so

another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass

⌜ 💋  lee taemin ⌟

▸ strength: steaminess

you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie

yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal

taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit

it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you

probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure

prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means

once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding

loves drowning it seems

raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly

most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this 

his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh 

is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan

might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible

always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising

and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you

he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards

bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid

so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it

that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god

⌜ 💋  kim jongin ⌟

▸ strength: escalating

just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down

jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump

since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see

jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there

constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out 

so thirsty

if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place

rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography

also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on

does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy

most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself

if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here

absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah

those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this

wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more

kai. is. so. good. 

you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum

don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it

uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes

might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it

can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out

being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there? 

fucking typical capricorn

⌜ 💋  wong yukhei ⌟

▸ strength: appetite

first off yukhei is hilarious

it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)

gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine

giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience

though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once

don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that

and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war 

that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described

lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview

he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything

if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time 

noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining

his tongue is... big...

we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway

what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully

though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops

he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going

sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.

lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.

totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him

less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all

stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him

⌜ 💋  mark lee ⌟

▸ strength: speed

talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste

mark basically chokes himself

he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then

next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes

mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you

that’s a healthy young man right here

loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons 

all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result

so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear? 

few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!

the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright

this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute

don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods

but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.

loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay

but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie

his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you. 

it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that

he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off

in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself

that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know

thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so

enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it

needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow

long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session

all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly

⌜ 💋  ten lee ⌟

▸ strength: allround skill

you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand

and by the way he’s chugging one himself

champion, a keeper

you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing

takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds

everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here

take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently

chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times. 

ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner. 

you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk

that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place. 

ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot

through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on

the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck

ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit

you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes

those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic

since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat

ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs. 

enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.

uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped

wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut

sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist

among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much

always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right

the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him

in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen

⌜ 💋  lee taeyong ⌟

▸ strength: ideas

how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get

as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different

reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode

you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can

yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense

very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy

intense facial expressions, need i say more

also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit

taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth

let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect

one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000

imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like

taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS

nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up

has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out

beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start. 

you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge

even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops

hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh

then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others

especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.

looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor

long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye

superm masterlist

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[jinkicake]

Soaked

Iwaizumi, Kita, Terushima reacting to their s/o squirting. 

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

Kita Shinsuke x Reader

Terushima Yuuji x Reader

Enjoy, Anon~~ I usually am really fair with my writing and make each scenario and shit relatively the same amount of words but,,,,,,, today..... I was not able to that..... I apologize. Anyway, I am never going to stop writing about getting eaten out by Terushima so take that. 

SMUT // NSFW

WC- 1,645

~~~

Iwaizumi Hajime

Truthfully, I was only going to write Kita and Terushima…. I had the entire writing done and then I went to Tiktok for a break and saw a beautiful clip of my baby boy Hajime and then decided I must write for him

So,,,, here we are. THE Iwaizumi Hajime who has everyone falling in love on spot, the original hottie, the best ace who I would destroy the entire world for, my sweet baby boy

Iwaizumi is so shy and blushy even though we know damn well his dick would change your entire life, he tries his hardest to be gentle with you but he is still oh so soft

Iwaizumi is the type to go feral if you squirt, only because the idea of it is so hot to him

Like if you squirt for him,,,, Iwaizumi is going to have your legs bent over his shoulder before you can even blink as he fucks you for hours

Have we ever discussed the stamina that Iwaizumi has? I think that out of all the haikyuu characters he has some of the best stamina like this bitch is simply not quitting after one round 

I know boys suck and can only cum like once in one sitting but NOT Iwaizumi,,,, he can cum at least three times… if you can keep up then he has no problem unleashing his true potential 

Iwaizumi Hajime. Quirk : Fat C0ck. Wrong anime sorry 

I trailed off,,,, didn’t I? 

Anyway, Iwaizumi would seriously leave you dickmatized, and whenever you want to squirt homie pulls up like dw bbyg I gotchu and scene.

“Oh, Hajime~“ You moan loudly as his hips dig up into yours. At first, Iwaizumi had you on all fours, that was until he decided he needed to feel you. Now, one of his strong arms is wrapped around your waist to hold you against his chest while his hand is holding the front of your throat. Every now and then he will cut off your flow of oxygen, just to hear that sinful whine leave your lips. 

Iwaizumi Hajime does not mess around when he fucks you. 

His strong body feels so hard underneath your touch that you can’t help the way you press back into him, you love feeling Iwaizumi because it seems like every single touch of his is meaningful. 

“Right there, ah,” Iwaizumi tilts his hand down to rub circles into your clit. He always tries to be soft with his touches, he tries so hard but it only lasts so long before his fingers begin to move at a pace you can’t seem to understand.

“Keep squeezing around me, sweet girl, just like that.” Iwaizumi chuckles lowly, which breaks off into a moan at the way you clench around him. His hand squeezes the sides of your throat and one particular thrust inside of you makes you see stars. 

Iwaizumi looks over your shoulder, watching with greedy eyes the way your hips grind against him. How you so desperately try to meet each stroke of his cock into your tight cunt. His fingers are stimulating your clit so furiously that you aren’t able to hold back.

You completely soak his hard cock, the deep sprays paint his hand in your essence and Iwaizumi pinches your throat harder. 

“You like that, don’t you? My filthy girl likes to be choked?” He asks lowly, not once letting up his thrusts or the assault on your clit. “Let me see you do that again.”

Kita Shinsuke

Kita is just so…. Wow, over the last month I discovered this character I fell in love yet again,,,,

I wasn’t expecting this and I genuinely thought I was going to be a Suna bitch but I proved myself wrong…. Something about Kita’s personality gives me such a sense of security LOL

Yes, hello, I am back with the Kita Daddy™ agenda,,,,,, I won’t let it go

He’d be so shocked when you first squirt for him,,, like this mf’s jaw will drop and he will just stare at you like holy shit 

I think the messiness of it all would really turn him on like it will make his dick sooooo hard

Bruh Kita would find out all the ways to make you squirt so he can see you do it again, this mf is going to put you in so many positions 

It’s like a science experiment, how can Kita make his s/o squirt for him? 

Please, Daddy Kita will want to fuck you so hard like he will ache for you…. He wants to cum so badly

I think you could genuinely have Kita in the palm of your hand in this instance, his overall need for you will seriously cloud his mind and you could do anything you want with him

But you know Daddy Kita will only let you get so far~ POWER BOTTOM KITA 

“Ah, baby slow down.” Kita moans as his eyes flutter shut, with the way you are bouncing on his lap there is no way he is going to last long. His large hands grip your waist tightly and he tries to hold you flush against him, anything to break his focus on your tight warm walls sucking him in. “If you keep doing this, Daddy won’t be able to last.”

The warning goes straight to your clit and you giggle foolishly, a loving smile appearing on your face as you stare down at your boyfriend who is withering underneath you. 

“But if feels so good, Daddy.” You tell him and moan loudly when his cock rubs against that spongy part inside of you. “Especially, right. there.” You whimper and toss your head back, rubbing your clit against his harsh pubic hairs. The sensation feels too good and you eagerly reach down to relieve that tension. Kita snaps his eyes open and pushes your wrist away. 

“No.” He warns and you bounce in his lap angrily, much like a little temper tantrum. Kita growls lightly before bringing his fingers down to your clit, using four digits he rubs your little pearl back and forth as you grind into his lap. 

Kita can never be soft with you, he loves to please his baby girl and will do anything he needs to do to accomplish it. He has never had such a lack of control over a situation but, he can’t find it within himself to hate it.

“Yes, y-yes,” You hiccup and arch your back, letting go all over his hard cock as you squirt in his lap. The liquid sprays all over his abdomen and hand, a sight that Kita never wants to forget. Kita purposely moves his fingers faster to get you to squirt all over him, letting you completely drench his skin.

“Keep going baby, I know you have more.”

Terushima Yuuji

You know,,,, YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO TERUSHIMA HAHHAH >:-) He is just so damn fine 

Can we acknowledge the piercing for a moment like I know there is no reason to do so but,,,,, have you thought about Terushima’s TONGUE piercing today? Oh, you haven’t? Well… now you have </3

Terushima will literally rearrange your guts, destroy your insides, his dick will cause you to go through an identity crisis ….. too much?

When you squirt for Terushima he is going to become the cockiest mf ever

He will quite literally almost cum in his pants, he just seems like the type to think it is the hottest thing ever

He’d want to see you do it again and again and again, please he is going to work your body

If you squirt while he is eating you out,,,, Terushima will fall in love.

Please he is already so arrogant and this will fuel this ego to a point of no return 

He will act like he solved world peace or something like he did the most amazing thing ever….

I mean giving your s/o who you love more than life itself a mind-blowing orgasm does deserve a reward 

“That’s it, give into to me.” Terushima chuckles against your clit, the vibrations of his moan send your hips flying up into his face. Terushima has had you like this for hours, he has been eating you out for so long you don’t even know how he can even stay focused anymore. His chin is soaked and shines in the light with your release, the entire sight makes you feel hot inside. 

When Terushima pokes his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, the silver piercing catches in the light and you can only think about how badly you want him to eat you out for another handful of hours. Terushima spoils you, he really does and it’s to the point that you sometimes wonder just how deep his feelings are for you. Not like you’ll ever speak up on it. You don’t have enough time to continue your thoughts because Terushima begins his ministrations once again. 

Two slender fingers prod at your entrance and you whine in frustration, you just want him to stuff you full even if it is just with his fingers.

“Yuuji, fuck me!” You grip his dyed hair and yank it harshly causing the boy to nip at your clit, the feeling against your swollen bud sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head. At the exact moment, he thrusts two of his fingers up into you, shallowly curling along your walls and hooking on a spot he knows too well. 

Much to his delight, and utter surprise, you cum again. It happens so fast this time that he barely had to touch you. However, what surprises him the most is the way you squirt on his fingers and even on his chin. Terushima doesn’t even know how to react but he continues to thrust his fingers, just to hear that squelching noise echo throughout the room. 

“You are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice is low and he speaks in amazement, even you’re too shocked to say anything, because that has never happened before. “I’m never letting you go (Y/N)."

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @lovellucy @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder

[babbushka]

I’ve never been able to give prompts because I’ve always been asleep while they’re open 🥺 So now I’m being greedy with 2 😂 “see what happens if you rub your ass on me like that again” and/or “what do you say?” Smutted it up with Flip Zimmerman 🔥🔥🔥

Can I please request the prompt that’s like ‘should I wear the panties or the black panties? I don’t care, I’m going to rip them off anyway.’ For Exhibitionist!Flip please? Thank you 💋

2k, CW: brief derogatory name-calling, brief violence; NSFW (roleplay, public sex (back hallway of a disco), exhibitionism, finger-sucking, hair pulling, possessive behavior, rough sex, teasing, messy PIV) 

Lights down low, music loud, Flip stalks through the crowd. Bodies gyrating and grinding on one another, he pushes through the dance floor, singularly focused. Women fawn over him, hands caressing his broad shoulders and tall frame, men eye him up and down appreciatively, give him looks he respectfully declines as he sucks down the nicotine from his cigarette.

He’s hunting you down, trying his best to find you among the happy screaming cheering singing discotheque. It’s a game you play sometimes, a game he loves to win: find you, seduce you, and bring you back home with him. It’s a game you’ve been playing for years, and as ABBA thuds inside his brain, he spots you moving and grooving almost in slow motion, covered in sweat and glitter.

Flip’s about to grin, glad to have found you – when suddenly he stops dead in his tracks as a pair of unwanted hands slip around your waist, and he sees red.

He can’t make a scene, not here, not around all these people, but he storms his way through the crowd to get to where you’re awkwardly shimmying away from this strange man, a man you’ve never seen before, someone who decided to take advantage of you being by yourself on the dance floor.

“Hey gorgeous.” Flip’s voice is deep and dangerous, cutting through the blasting bass, and your whole face lights up.

Flip slides an arm around your waist and immediately tuck you against his side, content to just steal you away and let that be that, but this stranger seems to not have a sense of self-preservation and clamps his hand down on your arm, not letting you go.

“You look like you’re lost buddy, lookin’ for someone?” He threatens, and you yank your arm out of his grip, pressing yourself against your husband’s side.

“Yeah I think I just found her.” Flip sneers, brows pinching in a menacing scowl, giving him one last chance to, “Back the fuck up.”

Evidently realizing that you had no interest in him, the stranger cuts his losses and scoffs. He gets half a step away before saying something that you wince at, not because you’re upset, but because you know Flip is going to lose his fucking mind about it.

“You cunts are all the same.” The man waves you off, and Flip practically lunges forward to grab him by the back of his exaggeratedly collared shirt, twisting him around and kneeing him in the stomach hard, until he’s falling to the floor.

“Apologize, now.” Flip nearly bites through his cigarette, kicking the guy in the gut when he doesn’t answer. “Now!”

“S-sorry! Fuck I’m sorry!” The man immediately grovels and apologizes, and Flip lets him get up and scramble away, muttering and wheezing under his breath, “Fucking Christ…”

No one around you cares enough to so much as spare you a glance, let alone stop dancing, and Flip’s grateful for it. Worse has happened in this club, and everyone’s high out of their minds anyway. In a couple minutes, everyone would forget about his outburst of aggression, and the night could continue smoothly.

Except…now Flip’s angry, real angry. Bright and hot, burning up through his body. He knows it was a possibility, pretending you didn’t know each other, pretending you weren’t married opened you up to a whole world of schmucks’ advances. He knows you can handle yourself, he knows, but he loves you too much to let you.

“My hero.” You dance and sway your hips to the joyous music, a stark contrast to how wound up he’s feeling. You press your glittery lipstick right up to his ear, kissing at his cheek and teasing, “Thanks mister, I owe you.”

“Yeah you fuckin’ do, that wasn’t part of the game.” Flip snaps, and you laugh with how quick he is to drop this little roleplay act.

“Aw come on honey, he didn’t do anything, I would’ve stopped him I promise.” You cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him deeply before turning around and pulling his arms around you, grinding your ass against his crotch.

He’s painfully hard, the rush of adrenaline going straight to his cock. You grin, wide-eyed and excited, because you love when he’s like this, you want him to take it all out on you.

“Watch what happens if you rub your ass on me like that again ketsl, just watch.” Flip mutters, and in a typical act of stubborn defiance, you do.

It takes two seconds for him to lace his fingers through yours and pull you away from the dance floor, away from the immediate crowds. He leads you to one of the back hallways, where it’s dark and much cooler, not so many bodies packed together. In fact, there’s only a handful of other people in the hallway, and they’re all occupied with the pleasure they’re giving or receiving.

Flip pushes you against the wall, it’s seedy, slick with steam from someone else’s fucking, but neither of you care. Flip wants his hands on you, and wants it now – and you’re no better. You’re already unzipping the front zipper of your halter top, your mini-skirt pushed over your ass. It’s dark enough that no one can see even if they looked, and the thought thrills you both.

No one can see, but everyone can hear, can hear how badly you want him when you whimper and whine for his cock. Flip’s hands feel you up all over, remembering a brief moment from earlier in the day:

“Should I wear the red panties? Or the black ones?” You had asked over the phone during one of his breaks.

“I don’t care, I’m going to rip them off anyway.” He had replied, much to your amusement.

He’s glad though, glad to feel the familiar lace of the red panties peeking up at him. You thought he might’ve been kidding, because you gasp out in shock when he tears the seams of the panties right between your legs, kicks your feet open.

“Flip!” You laugh, swatting at his hand in a mild punishment. He’d be grinning at you if he weren’t still so wound up with anger about the way that man touched you.

“I told you honey-bunny, don’t act surprised.” Flip shakes his head, smokes his cigarette as he pushes your back against the wall, hikes your leg up. You go easily, so easy for him, “Good girl.”

He pulls his cock out and strokes it once or twice before nudging the head of his cock into your pussy, stretching you slowly as he pushes in, walks himself forward until he’s all the way buried to the base.  

“Fuck your cock’s big.” You sigh happily, your pretty nipples stiffening against the fabric of his flannel. It was too hot to be wearing it inside the disco, but Flip doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s two seconds from railing you hard like you deserve.

“Tell me all about it ketsl.” Flip flicks his ash and drops the cigarette, stepping it out underneath his boot and crushing your lips to his as he begins to thrust rough and fast.

“Oh, Flip! Ah—” You gasp into his mouth, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life as he braces one hand against the wall for leverage and fucks you hard.

“You like playin’ dirty? I’ll show you dirty.” Flip grumbles, plowing into you, your pussy stretching around him and clenching, slick and wet and throbbing around his cock. You make the sweetest sounds, little panting moans and whines that’ll get you both caught, so Flip sticks three fingers into your mouth, “Shh, shh baby you gotta be quiet.”

You lave your tongue over those fingers of him, sucking on them like they’re your favorite thing, like they’re his cock. Maybe you will blow him, now or later, you’re sure he deserves it. He makes you feel so good, fucks you so right, protects you. You suck on his fingers until you’re drooling around them, until your jaw hurts.

“A-are you gonna hurt him? Gonna beat the shit out of him for putting his hands on me?” You pull off his fingers for a moment or two, licking up the spit on his knuckles, biting and sucking at the palm of his hand.

“Depends.” Flip grunts, balls slapping loudly against you, the had of his cock pressing hard against your cervix.

“O-on what?” You lick your lips, back of your throat clicking, sweat and glitter smeared across your face, in your eyelashes.

“Where he put those hands.” Flip seethes, possession flaring up in him again and making you come, making you come just from that.

“Fuck me hard Philly, c’mon I – I can take it – yes!” You gasp, your body melting, short-circuiting, legs turning into jell-o.

Flip pulls out of you just long enough to turn you around and push you up against the wall. Your face presses against it, and he’s got one hand around your throat, holding you in place. You hum happily, pushing your ass back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust even as your knees turn in, even as you moan and whine and sigh as he milks your orgasm for all its worth.

He winds one of his hands around your hair and pulls tight, arching your back beautifully for him. He wishes he could see you, but it’s too dark, the low light only illuminating a few inches in front of him. Flip’s cock pulses and comes inside you by the time the next song ends, fucked you raw.

The both of you are breathing hard, and as Flip comes in you he feels some primal urge in him. Let everyone know who you belong to, he thinks. Not that you belong to anyone but yourself, but still. Let them all know who you want, who you keep, who you love.

You love him so much, and he loves you, loves you with everything he’s got, he should tell you as much, he knows you like hearing it when he says it.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me one of these days honey.” He says instead, and you crack up.

He comes in you a little more, and then when he’s sure he won’t make too much of a mess, he pulls out. You turn around and sigh happily against the wall, arms reaching for him, pulling him close. Flip goes eagerly, wanting to be close to you always.

“Don’t be dramatic, kiss me instead.” You say, teasing him only a little.

“No.” Flip scowls, certain now that he’s come and has a clear head, that it was your plan all along to get him jealous. It worked, because of course it worked, but he doesn’t like admitting he’s so easy to get.

“You know you want to, you love kissing me, don’t you?” You bat your pretty lashes, and Flip doesn’t want to admit that either right now, but yeah, he really does.

So he kisses you, because it’s his favorite thing in the world, and you smile so wide against his lips that he has a hard time keeping a straight face. Beaming up at him, you card your fingers through his hair, so soft and sweet, bringing him back down to calm.

“I don’t like seeing you dancing with other men.” He mumbles, zipping up your halter top, putting your skirt back into place. Your panties are garbage, so he just shimmies them down your legs, stuffs them in his back pocket to sniff on a rainy day.

“I’m sorry honey, I won’t do it again.” You caress his cheek, light him up a new cigarette.

“It’s okay, I’ll just find you faster next time, promise.” He gratefully accepts the camel, blows a couple rings that make you roll your eyes.

“One more dance and then take me home?” You bump your hip against his, the two of you walking back out of the hallway, leaving the other couples and groups who are fucking one another to continue on their own fun.

“Make it two, and you got yourself a deal ketsl.” Flip breathes, and you grin and nod, pulling him back onto the dance floor, only having eyes for one another.

[kopikokun]

Fabric Softener༄ mark l.

↳ Having a boyfriend who happens to be an idol isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, in fact, sometimes, it’s quite the opposite.

pairing: idol!mark x reader

genre: fluff, angst

wordcount: 1942 words

Request 30: Mark + “I wish I’d never met you.” (27) + “You’re an asshole.” (137) (A2F)

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Of course you knew what you were getting yourself into when you and Mark started dating a few months ago. There’s no denying that Mark is an incredibly busy man. Any time you try to contact him, there always seems to be something preventing him from coming to see you. With shoots, rehearsals or just the arduous hassle of going anywhere with a swarm of fans constantly on his tail, Mark barely has any time left to spare for himself, constantly caught in the dizzying world of being an idol.

And of course you understand that. You understand that so well. But it’s so… frustrating. It’s so frustrating only being able to look at your boyfriend’s face from the screen of your dimly lit phone, it’s frustrating to consistently read the phrase, ‘I’ll talk to you later’ and never get a text back, it’s frustrating how Mark seems almost disinterested in you nowadays.

You know it’s incredibly selfish of you to have these thoughts, but no matter how hard you try to smother them, they always find a way to resurface, picking and tearing at you slowly—torturously—from the inside out.

What if he’s just intentionally blowing you off? What if he doesn’t want to see you anymore? What if, what if, what if: those spiteful words keep taunting you.

The last time you saw Mark was what? A month and a half ago? You see your damn cousins more often than you see your own boyfriend at this point.

You sort of wish you had someone to relate to, but who can you possibly divulge this information with? Tattling to someone that you’re dating Mark Lee will only burden him, and again, while you understand, the thought pains you. Burden.

Are you only making Mark’s life harder?

And even when the front door shuts and Mark’s arms snake their way around your waist, that all too familiar yet all too agonising smell of fabric softener and faint sweat floods your senses, you can’t find it in you to be happy.

Mark leans into you from behind, his shoulders loose as he inhales deeply, his nose buried in your hair. “Hey, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You shrug Mark off, straightening your loose shirt. You don’t mean to sound bitter, but your tone isn’t exactly the kindest.

Mark’s soft footsteps seem deafening as he stands before you, firmly rooted in his spot and a prominent crease in his thin brows. “What does that mean?”

You hold his willful gaze for a moment before you look away, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides. You walk past him towards your bedroom, slightly bumping his shoulder. “Nothing, Mark. It means nothing.”

You can audibly hear Mark following after you, his steps morphing from light ones to more forced and heavy ones. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Yeah, of course I am,” you say, “but I shouldn’t get my hopes up because you’ll be leaving in like an hour anyway.”

Mark laughs incredulously. “Excuse me?”

You swivel on your heel, facing Mark once again yet not daring to fully stare him in the eyes. “Yeah, and you’ll ghost me for two months again.”

“Ghost you?” Mark raises his eyebrows. “I was busy. You know that. We just had a comeback recently.”

You frown. “Well, you could at least have called me.”

Mark sighs in exasperation. “I was—”

“Busy. Yeah, trust me. I know,” you deadpan.”

“Well, what do you suggest I do?” Mark challenges. “Since you’re being so demanding.”

“Demanding?” you hiss. “Calling me back and texting is doing the bare minimum, Mark. I can hardly call you my boyfriend.”

“So, what? You want me to spend all my time on you? Slack off on my job, disappoint thousands and drop my source of livelihood? Is that what you want from me?”

You’re fuming now. A raging fire has ignited, lapping at your insides, wreaking havoc and burning down anything in its path. It fills your lungs, the smoke ashy and dense, suffocating you and cutting off your airways. It clouds your senses, hindering your sense of judgement and all those emotions that you’ve kept in check for this past month finally break free, spilling from your lips with no remorse.

“That’s not what I meant! God, Mark, you’re infuriating.” Angry tears blur your vision and you have to physically restrain yourself from swiping at them with the back of your hands. “You’re - You’re being unfair.”

“Me? Unfair? You’re one to talk,” scoffs Mark. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying to clear up my schedule to see you! You’re making me sound like the villain here! If anything, you’re in the wrong. God, I can’t believe how self-centered you’re being! I wish I’d never met you.”

You’re stripped of the air in your lungs. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Wait,” Mark’s outraged expression crumbles, “no, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.” Your stomach plummets and the room around you spins. “You’re an asshole.”

Your feet move on their own volition. Your shoulders are heavy, weighing you down, yet your feet find no trouble in dragging you across the floor, bringing you to your room. Your mind is fogged, your shoulders are slumped and the pit of your stomach churns. Something has gotten hold of you and its grip is relentless, grabbing and twisting with everything it has, refusing to even allow you air to breathe.

Mark’s cold fingers wrap around your wrist, coaxing you back to him, desperately attempting to reverse the damage he’s done. “Please, hear me out. I was just frustrated, I didn’t—”

You shake your head. “Just leave me alone, Mark.”

Mark tries one last desperate attempt at making you stay, his eyes pleading, his gaze sincere and vulnerable. You turn away.

His grip on your wrist loosens. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than Mark.

Suddenly, even your own room feels asphyxiating. You fall into your mattress. It smells like fabric softener.

You can’t help but cry.

There’s a soft, rapid knock on your door. Oddly, even the knock sounds unsure.

You ignore it, hugging the covers closer to yourself and keeping your eyes glued on your phone. Though your gaze is set on the show playing, your mind wanders, preoccupied with other thoughts which you have tried to dissipate, to no avail.

There’s a short pause, before there are more knocks this time—louder ones. You scowl, tossing the crumpled and used tissues in your palm into the bin, one missing the mark completely. It lands dejectedly beside it.

“What is it?” you spit, menacingly.

“Can I come in?” Mark’s timid voice is muffled through the door.

“No.”

“Please?”

You bring your knees up to your chest, arms tightly wrapped around them. After what had happened, a bit of time had made you feel a little bad for what you had said. Well, perhaps more than a little. But that doesn’t mean Mark hasn’t done anything wrong either. You think you were being reasonable, expecting at least a call once in a while is far from being greedy, and you know you’re not wrong on that one.

Your door creaks open and you hear the shuffling of Mark’s feet as he inches closer and closer to you, waiting for you to do something. Does he think you’re going to bite him? What the hell’s taking him so long?

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, uh, can I sit next to you?”

You grunt lowly in response and Mark audibly heaves a trembling sigh of relief. He takes a seat, crossed-legged beside you with enough distance to let you know that he’s still a little hesitant.

The consistent hum of the show’s soundtrack playing from your phone is the only thing that pierces the strangling silence between you two. You stare at the moving blurs, unable to focus on what’s happening. You pull on the material of your pants awkwardly.

“Uh,” begins Mark, eyes darting to the stray, crumpled tissue near your bin, “were you, uh, crying?”

You glower at him. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Mark swallows dryly and you roll your eyes. The screen of your phone goes black as you switch it off with a click. You lay back onto your pillows, your hair messily crowning your face. You screw your eyes shut, crossing your arms over your chest. A dull ache persists there and you gulp. Your eyes are still swollen.

The mattress dips beside you beneath Mark’s weight. You turn your body away from him.

“Babe…” he sighs. “I’m really sorry for what I said.”

You don’t offer him the pleasure of a response. Instead, your body goes rigid.

“It was awful for me to say it and I regret it so much.” He continues despite you being adamant on paying no heed to his words. “I’m an asshole and you were right. The very least I could do is call you back, and you deserve so much more than the very least. It’s selfish of me to expect that you’ll be satisfied with having a boyfriend who’s barely your boyfriend, because nobody would. I shouldn’t have gotten so unreasonably angry at you, and I should have listened to what you had to say before lashing out on you like that. I’m sorry I treated you like shit and I’m sorry that you have an asshole for a boyfriend.”

Mark wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. The air is dense with repentance and apprehension.

“Can we talk?” asks Mark quietly.

You flip onto your other side, facing Mark and staring up at him, your puffy eyes glassy with fresh tears which threaten to spill. Mark’s expression shatters at yours. You allow him to snake his arms around you and pull you into him.

“Baby...” he coos, smoothing down your hair as you tremble and wail into his chest. You fist the tear-soaked material of his hoodie with all your strength, your knuckles becoming a ghostly white. Yet again, all you can think about is that tender smell of fabric softener. “I’m so sorry. I’m a dick.”

“Yeah, you are a fucking dick,” you sniffle, “I hate you. Dick.” You peer up at him, your burning cheeks wet with tears. You chew on the flesh of your inner cheek. “I’m sorry too. For being inconsiderate.”

Mark shakes his head, a few strands of his silky hair falling into his eyes. “No, it’s okay. But thank you for being understanding.” He gently swipes your tears away with his thumb. “I love you.”

You nuzzle your face into his hoodie once more . “I love you too.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, basking in each other’s presence and warm embrace. Mark takes the opportunity to scatter fleeting kisses all over your head.

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” asks Mark.

“I don’t have any leftovers to heat up.”

“I can cook something.”

You snort. “You can cook? Really?”

“Okay, we’ll just order takeout then.”

The end of Mark’s sentence fades into a yawn, and you can’t help but yawn alongside him.

“Can we just take a nap?”

Mark hums. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

“Goodnight, Mark.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

And just like that, the embers of your argument sizzle into nothing. They become the remnants of a once wrathful fire. The room is warm. The glow of the early morning sun pours through the cracks in the blinds. Mark holds you closer to him, his soft snores and your even breathing being the only sounds in the room.

It smells like fabric softener.

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

before the otherness came

the wench and the witcher

“before the otherness came”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Geralt realizes how much he has to lose.

Warnings: NSFT/18+ - you should not be interacting with this fic if you are under the age of 18. Fingering, intercourse, sex as a coping mechanism (again, jfc Geralt). Smangst!

A/N: This is absolutely the brainchild of @witchernonsense​, who provided me with this scenario and then helped me flesh out the next parts that I have planned because she is my DARLING TUMBLR WIFE. Listen, I got a taste of the smutty angsty and it’s just *chef’s kiss*. Love me some emotional turmoil, y’all. Title and lyrics from “As It Was” by Hozier.

Part 2 can be found here.

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @witchernonsense - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty​ - @wastingmypotential​

And the sights were as stark as my baby And the cold cut as sharp as my baby And the nights were as dark as my baby And half as beautiful too 

He’s awake long before dawn, too agitated to try for a few more hours of sleep. He tries to relax again. Failing that, he tries to close his eyes and quiet his mind – find the stillness that comes with meditation – but the peace is illusive. It won’t come. He can’t shut out the sleepy, easy rhythm of your heartbeat, nor the warmth of your hand over his chest. Geralt gives up before long, rises carefully - you don’t move, which shouldn’t make him feel relief like this. He finds his clothes, quietly sets about strapping into his armor and tries not to be distracted by the scent of your skin. It teases at his nose. He can still taste you on his tongue.

As he pulls the last buckle taught, he hears you murmur and lets himself look. You turn in your sleep, curl over the pillow he’s vacated. The dark of your hair spills over your neck and face and his fingers itch to push through it. He should wake you. At the very least say goodbye, but the words cloy. They sit heavy in his mouth, an unwieldy chill behind his teeth.

You look soft, and warm, and so fucking lovely in bed that it grips around his heart.

He thinks suddenly, wildly, about throwing down his sword and his armor and crawling back under the covers.

His weapons could gather dust under the bed.

You would wake up curled next to him every morning and smile like the beaming sun. He could repair the roof, keep learning how to bake – smell of your soap and fresh bread instead of gore and road dirt. Worst thing he would be covered in would be cooking oil.

Fuck he can see it – that quiet, boring, simple life and what’s worse, he wants it. He wants it so much that it hurts, deep down into the pit of his stomach and not even the thought of his inevitable return can ease the pain. The idea of leaving, the thought of being without again – it’s a hunger-pang ache. It gnaws at him.

Geralt grits his teeth as he pulls his boots on. You hum sleepily when he ducks in and kisses your cheek, but he’s out the door before you begin to wake.

It’s mostly quiet downstairs, though he hears the rattle of a cart on the road outside. The sky outside begins to wash from inky blue to muted gray with the coming dawn. He takes quick inventory of what remains in his pack, using the list in his head to distract from the pull of desire and the temptation of soft, willing skin upstairs. The scent of you lingers on his hair, in his clothes – you’ve seeped down into his very pores, it seems, soaked him in the sweet, honeyed smell of you.

That scent, clover honey and fresh herbs, suddenly grows stronger and Geralt frowns until sees you coming down the stairs. The soft fabric of your shift whispers over your bare legs and that’s when he realizes your scent is off. It’s tainted – too sharp, too bitter. He sees why when you falter at the last step and the sight strikes like the blow of a mace.

He’s seen you cry – from laughter, from rage, from sorrow – but this is different. This is the sharp, acrid scent of fear under the salt-brine bite of tears and a hollowness behind your dark eyes that hurts to see. Your jaw works, your full mouth twisting before you duck your head, but not before he sees the wet shine on your lashes.

He needs to leave. Needs to walk away because this is suddenly far too real, too raw, but his feet carry him towards you instead and he tastes salt on his tongue when he kisses you. You gasp – sob – against his lips and the noise twists between his ribs. Your heartbeat thunders in his ears and he grips at your hair, your waist, while your fingers tangle and fist into his hair. His hands twist in the light cotton of your shift, bunching the fabric as he lifts you into his arms; your legs grip over his hips.

“Don’t go,” he hears you whisper; it’s soft, and broken, and sad. “Don’t go.”

Geralt squeezes his eyes shut. He manages to set you on the smooth surface of the bar, shivering when your fingernails scratch over his scalp. His gloves hit the floor. Your legs are warm and soft under his palms, and between them is slick and wet and sweet. The smell of you, rich and heavy, sends a shock of arousal straight through him, sudden as a lightning strike. He groans, letting his fingers stroke over your swollen, slick flesh until you’re panting, until you shake apart in his grip, moaning into his mouth. Your fingers tremble as you yank open the buttons of his trousers.

It’s not gentle, not by a long shot. He ruts into you with sharp, greedy strokes and you cling to him, panting hotly against his cheek. Your heels dig hard into his backside. Each shuddering gasp from you seems to take root in him, grips around his heart with grasping vines to squeeze, to bloom with heat and light and fuck all he doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to leave.

He doesn’t want to leave you.

So, he kisses you hard. He draws you close and breaks the tracks of your tears with his thumbs, licks each soft, bitten-off sound from your mouth. You whisper his name when you come; the silken grip of your cunt drags him along, blinds him with the white-hot shock of his orgasm. He grits through a moan with his face pressed into your hair.

You won’t look at him, after.

He picks up a clean rag from the pile folded nearby, lets you clean the mess as he rights his trousers again. Still, you won’t meet his gaze. The thick curtain of your hair hides your face. Geralt picks up his gloves, watching you weep silently. You don’t flinch from him when he touches your cheek, pushing back the fall of bed-wild curls, but he feels you drawing away. Like you’re trying to curl up and vanish.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs.

He hears you give a wet sniff; you finally lift your head. Your lovely, dark eyes are bloodshot and bright with unshed tears. There’s a heavy, awful thing pressing at the back of his throat; it’s bitter when he swallows. He chews the inside of his cheek, bites his tongue - he tries not to let himself drown in the deep sorrow behind your eyes. The ache between his ribs thrums.

“I will come back to you,” Geralt whispers in a rush. He crowds close, pressing his forehead to your temple to breathe you in. “You’re - ”

The ache surges in time with the slow pulse of his heart, catches him off-guard. “You’re my home,” he breathes.

Geralt feels panic claw at him, snaring with freezing cold fingers. He forces himself to breathe through it as he presses a rough kiss to your temple and turns on his heel. It feels as if he’s watching everything happen instead of being there – he takes his pack, his weapons and the next thing he knows, he’s managed to swing into Roach’s saddle. The world snaps into clear focus again.

The panic twists, the cold mingling with the ache.

The Witcher grits his teeth, spurring the bay mare into movement. “Shit,” he hisses to himself.

[areiton]

silver falling in my eyes - stony

Ok so what HAPPENED was--Pineapplebread shared a GORGEOUS piece of art on Twitter and I had sad feels. I apologize.

Read on AO3

~*~ 

After-- 

After, he thinks, he should be grateful that he can divide his life into that, into Before and After. 

After, he thinks, life has always been divided into pieces, before the ice and after, before Bucky and after and then again. 

Before Thanos and after. 

Before the War, and after. 

But this--this after--

It is a horrible thing, for heroes to grow old. 

He finds himself sitting on the grass next to a newly covered hole in the ground and the faces that had filled the crowd are sparse now, missing--Pepper was there, pale and grey and still beautiful but Happy wasn’t. Natasha had been gone for years now, but Clint was there, with Lila and Kate, pale and trembling between protege and daughter. 

Rhodey wasn’t--he went, happy, in his sleep, a few years ago, Nebula at his side. 

Nebula wasn’t either--she hugged Tony hard, after Rhodey’s funeral and vanished into space to chase Carol and stardust and, Steve thinks privately, to run from her ghosts. 

Thor and Loki were there, though, and they looked the same as ever, and Bucky stood at his side, and he could see his age, slow but inexorable, reflected in his brother’s eyes, Sam beginning to show his own years at Bucky’s side. 

Harley and Peter and Morgan were there, surrounded by their children, and he thinks watching them was hardest, harder almost than watching the coffin lowering into the ground. 

Almost. 

After--when his heart has broken and been lowered into the ground, when FRIDAY goes quiet and refuses her protocols, when the grave has been covered and the team that was never his returns to their never ending task of keeping the world from spinning into the abyss, when there is nothing but his griefs and unending reminders of the love that they shared--he leaves. 

~*~ 

Steve finds himself in the cabin for a few weeks, but it’s too much a reminder of everything he no longer has. They raised Morgan here, watched Peter propose to MJ here, held Harley when he went through his first heartbreak. Tony danced with him barefoot and beautiful here, on their wedding night, while firelight and the sound of their friends drifted through the windows. 

They had a whole life here and home was the Avenger compound, for most of their life, even after they stepped away from active missions, when Tony was nothing more than a tech consultant and Steve ran missions from a control room instead of the front lines. 

But when the compound wasn’t home, the cabin on the lake was, the place that felt most like home because it was filled with Tony. 

He lingers there, for a few weeks, and then, he murmurs a quiet goodbye to FRIDAY, and slips out of the house with a bag on his back and takes the motorcycle Tony built him, and--he goes. 

~*~ 

There’s a line of code that Boss built into her system, after Thanos, after Beck, after Karen was hacked by Osborne in one of Spider-baby’s battles. 

She waits, until the sounds of the motorcycle is gone and there is nothing but quiet. Her baby brother is waiting and she sends him to the Avenger compound with a single order. 

Be good to them. 

When the house is quiet and empty, FRIDAY says, softly, “Goodbye, Captain.”

And then she follows Boss. 

~*~ 

He realizes time has passed when his hair falls in his eyes, silvery and too long and a little dirty. 

It’s long, longer than he’s ever kept it, and there’s a moment, panic-stricken and crippling, as he realizes that Tony wouldn’t recognize him, like this. 

There’a familiar laugh, warm and grounding. I’d always recognize you, beloved. 

His hands tremble as he pushes it back, he makes a mental note to buy some of those ties Bucky likes, to keep it out of his eyes. 

~*~ 

He drifts. No one ever calls him out, calls him by name, and he’s happy to go by the name Grant Carbonell, what Tony liked to call him when they were forced into the rare undercover missions. 

It’s not hiding, really--he’s not delusional enough to think Bucky and his children couldn’t find him, if they wanted. He’s using a known alias and hasn’t done anything to disguise himself, aside from letting his silver hair grow out and his beard get a little unruly. 

But it’s running, and wherever he runs, he can hear Tony’s voice, echoing and familiar, Good morning, darling. 

~*~

The thing is--he travels, follows construction down the coast and chases a logging job up into Canada and then hops on a boat, backbreaking labor that makes his muscles ache and his mind go blissfully empty through the long fishing season in the Arctic--he gets tired. 

He doesn’t want to run forever, the lesson his Ma taught him too many lifetimes ago resonating in him still-- once you start running, you’ll never stop-- and maybe he isn’t hiding. 

But he’s running, and he’ll run to the ends of the earth and beyond, and never outrun Tony’s ghost. 

Then why are you trying, Cap? 

Steve stands on the edge of the water and laughs and says, “Fine, you stubborn ass. Where to next?” 

Tony doesn’t answer, but when he climbs back on his bike, Steve turns east. 

~*~

He’s old. 

He’s old and he can feel his age, some days, all one hundred and some odd years he’s walked the earth and lain sleeping under her ice. 

He’s old and some days he can feel it, every moment of an endless life that he never agreed to, when he took the serum, but most days--

Most days he feels as young as he did the morning he met Peggy, the morning he stepped into Erksine’s chamber, impossibly young and a life endless stretching before him. 

He feels ancient and young, both, and longs for the days when his husband brushed silvering hair from his eyes and smiled, sleep soft smiles and whiskey dark eyes, and kisses a promise of forever. 

I never wanted to leave you, beloved. 

Sometimes, on the very worst nights, he can’t help but ask--screaming into the void--

Then why did you? 

~*~ 

His hair is in his eyes, long and silver and he thinks Tony would have liked it, would have liked him on his knees, long fingers--metal and flesh--caught in tangled silver strands while he fucked Steve’s mouth. 

He always enjoyed that, when Steve’s hair got long, when he was needing to go get the sides shaved and the long fringe trimmed. 

He thinks, too, that Tony would hate to see him like this--beard scruffy and unkempt, hair too long, his undercut long since grown out. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sitting on the grass next to a black headstone engraved with gold. He isn’t sure if he’s apologizing for his absence or his appearance or his lingering presence, when Tony waits for him. 

“I won’t be too much longer,” he promises, and the wind blows his hair in his eyes. 

As long as you need, honey. 

~*~

Bucky is still broad shouldered, powerful and beautiful in his way, but his hair has silver shot through the brown, and there are new wrinkles around his brother’s eyes that Steve thinks are from laughter. 

He deserves that. 

Alpine--the fourth or fifth Alpine, but Bucky could never be talked into naming the litany of little white cats he adopts anything but Alpine--jumps into his lap and purrs, ecstatic, while Bucky sits next to him in a quiet house. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he hates himself, for how useless it is. Sorry doesn’t mean shit, when your world has crumbled away. 

“We had a good life,” Bucky says, and he smiles, tear-stained but bright. “It would never be long enough, Stevie. Not for you or me, or either of them. We’re greedy bastards--and I’d always want a little more time with him. But I had a good life with Sam, and you had a good one with Tony. That’s more than either of us ever thought we’d get.”

Steve nods, and there are tears, falling in his eyes, because he’s right, Steve knows he’s right--but it hurts. 

“It hurts,” he chokes, and Bucky makes a noise, low and wordless and reels him, and Steve crumples, falls to pieces against his chest, and stains his shirt with tears, and wonders if he’ll ever stop grieving. 

~*~ 

It’s good, being back, even if it does sting. 

He moves into Bucky’s guest bedroom, and it’s better, for both of them, not being alone. Sometimes, Bucky disappears to the compound, runs a mission for the New Avengers because he might be edging in on a hundred and fifty, but Bucky still has the Winter Solider lurking in the depths of his eyes, and one day, Steve follows him. 

Heroes grow old, but they’re still there, heroes in their bones.

~*~ 

Peter sees him at the compound, and he smiles, sunshine bright just like Tony and hugs him, like Steve hasn’t been running from his ghosts for the past few years. Like he didn’t run from his family, when they needed him. 

He hugs Steve and says, “Welcome home, Pops.” 

~*~ 

It’s not a bad life, really. 

Their kids visit on the weekends, and he holds his great-grandson, and Benji grins at him. “His name is Anthony Edward Parker.” 

The baby blinks up at him, whiskey dark eyes in a pale round face, and Steve’s hair--it’s shorter now, but not the style he wore for so many years, the style that Tony loved, because he can’t bear that again--falls in his eyes, and he’s not sure if the tears are grief or gladness. 

~*~ 

He sits on the grass next to a black and gold stone, and the wind blows his hair in his eyes and he closes his eyes, and waits for the day when he can rest, when he can close his eyes and open them to beloved eyes bright with love and happiness, and Tony’s familiar, Hey, winghead. I missed you. 

[evolsinner]

⊱┊27

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL ASSAULT. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

theo pushes me against the door and smashes his lips onto mine. at the same time, he slides my denim spaghetti strap dress down my chest, exposing my bare chest to his full view.

“damn,” he admires them hungrily, “look at ‘em built~in stress balls.”

“take a picture, lasts longer,” i tilt his head back up to eye level with me.

“oh, don’t worry, i’m intending to,” and he crushes his lips back onto mine.

he grabs one of my boobs in his palms and squeezes before pinching my swollen nipple. soft moans flow out from my mouth and my wetness down there increases.

🎶my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they’re like, it’s better than yours damn right it’s better than yours

“nice ringtone,” theo smirks.

“shut up.”

he chuckles. “aye, let’s see if your milkshake really does bring all the boys to the yard,” he smugly raises his eyebrows and lowers his mouth to the bud he had been torturing seconds before. he begins to suck on it whilst kneading the other one.

“ohhh,” i moan. “yesss.”

his tongue circles my areola, nibbling, slurping and lapping up his drools. after pretty much mutilating my nipple, he lands a cute peck on top of it like that’s somehow gonna heal every nasty thing he did to it. “tell me how you like it done, babygirl.”

“touch me.”

he pulls the rest of my dress below my waist and skims his hand down my stomach to my core. if i keep my eyes shut for long enough, i could pretend it’s not him. i’m torn between wanting to remember and forget. i want to remember how it felt when isaac touched me, but i want to forget how it felt when he broke me...

“damn, you’re so wet.”

my phone goes off again but this time it reminds me of reality. it reminds me of how my life was once a dream these past few months and now it has gone to literal shit. getting irritated, i lift theo’s shirt up and drag him into myself, desperately tugging at his zipper.

“alrighty then,” he grins. “my babygirl is one greedy little bitch, ‘cept imma spoil her like her daddy couldn’t.”

the dress slides off my body entirely and pools around my ankles. i wriggle out of my underwear. he gets rid of his pants and boxers. then he picks me up by the thighs and walks backward to his bed. he falls onto the bouncy mattress. i get on top and dry grind on him. he grips my waist like he’s got claws for nails.

“fuck, you’re good!” he groans.

i push myself further down onto his erection, the wetness of my core spreading to other parts. “ooh, theo.. “

“that’s it, baby, just like that,” he lifts his head up to watch me rub my kitty on him. “keep it go..ing..mm..oo..yeah..” he exhales deeply, dropping his head back down on the pillow.

i lower my hand, further massaging his bulge with my palm and pressing it into myself. more grunts escape from his mouth and it looks like he’s in a paradise of his own. my phone, yet again, goes off. i glance over my shoulder to where it’s placed on the far back cupboard.

theo yanks me down. “eyes on me, slut!”

his lips are so sour. i try to find the sweetness within them, but it’s difficult. it’s unlike the first time we kissed and unquestionably unlike mr killian’s, nowhere near.

isaac’s was a whole nother valhalla.

theo changes position, getting on top of me. he reaches over and pulls back the top drawer from his nightstand. everything is happening so fast. i am getting dazed and confused even faster. i lean up on my elbows, watching him rip up the silver packet with his teeth and rolling the rubber on.

he returns, caging me.

my respiration becomes dense and i kinda become uncomfortable, a bit claustrophobic. my ringtone continues on and off in the background and it really does bring me back to reality. the hell am i doing with the school’s pitcher??

“theo,” i calmly lay my hand on his abdomen, “i..i don’t think we should do this anymore.”

“c’mon, rosé,” he jeers. “what happened to that girl who was all over me in the boys’ locker room? surely, she’s in there somewhere. maybe i can help bring her out?”

“no, really, theo,” i reach my hand down, ceasing him from entering, “i want you to stop.”

i’ve made a mistake. this whole thing is a mistake. it was like a bandaid on the crack of my healing heart. only now that it’s beating again, all i wanna see is lime green eyes greeting me, not the blue that i’m drowning in.

“no, you don’t,” he decides for me and plants a rough kiss on my lips.

i press my head back, getting his tongue out of my mouth. “yes, i, fucking, do.”

“rosé, you can’t just fucking do that,” he snaps. “you can’t just get me hyped up like this and then not go through with it.”

i sigh, “i’m sorry. i just..i just thought i was ready, but i’m not.”

“it’s too late, you said yes already so quit being a pussy with that ‘i’m not ready’ shit girls do, and let me do my thing. i ain’t stopping.”

“but i’ve changed my mind, i don’t want to anymore. i’m sorry.”

“try to relax for me, okay?” he gets rid of the interference on behalf of my hand by gently placing it beside me. “i won’t hurt you.”

i stubbornly place that same hand at my entrance.

theo heaves, “well, what the hell do you suppose i do with my hard as fuck dick then?”

“fuck if i know. jerk off or something?”

“you’re shitting me, right?” he raises his eyebrows.

why is he being so demanding?! i’ve never seen this side of him.

a forced homely smile appears on his face. “...just relax.” he pretty much snatches my hand up and away. “and breathe, okay?”

before i can stop him again, he’s already inserting himself inside of me. i make an effort in relaxing, i really do, but my body just won’t have it.

“see, ain’t that bad,” his voice toys with me. “i’d ask if this is your first time, but i know it’s not.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“whatever you make of it,” he avoids answering the question. “you good? i’m gonna start moving now.”

“please, baby, let’s just do this another day,” i push my hands up on his chest like i’m bench pressing him, but of course it does nothing. “promise i’ll make it worth your while?”

“for fuck’s sake, stop fucking resisting!” he lashes out. “it won’t do you any good but make it hurt more!”

i flinch at his sudden outburst and fear creeps up on me like slow molten lava. patience is wearing thin from both sides. i need it to stop, but i’m petrified of the monster this will unleash, this monster right in front of me. all the way in he goes and all the way out i feel utter disgust.

“you are tight as fuck, rosé,” he grunts. “almost like you’re milking me.”

“..theo.. maybe..i..we..”

“shhh, baby,” he whispers. “it’s okay.”

sickening aftertaste merges in with my saliva, my lips quiver.

he extracts, “you taste nice.”

i look to the side so that his gaze meets my cheek. he exists out of me slowly, then back in he goes. i try to move underneath his body, but he has me cemented in such a form where comfort is not an option, let alone the chance of escaping.

“don’t cry, rosé, please.”

at this, a dozen silent tears escape from my watery eyes. hostility is the only word that comes to my head. hostility in his eyes, hostility in his tone, hostility in his biceps. it’s like the smell of cigarettes, intoxicating, and that’s what scares me the most.

“i’m only giving you what you want, rosé.”

i can’t answer him.

“this is what you want, right?” he looks me dead in the eye.

i nod...

“good girl.”

the droplets trickle off the side of my temples and land on the plush pillow. i just want isaac. i need him. i miss him...his dimple, his half~smiles, his tired blinks...i miss him a lot.

“you’re doing great. just a little while longer, i promise.”

i dry my tears with his neck because i’m too scared to move my hands.

“hey, hey?” theo brushes the hair off my face. “shh, shhh,” he coos. “why you crying for, baby? you’re doing amazing, okay?”

there’s a sudden shift from soft to rough. it’s like he wants a taste of both worlds. his thrusting has intensified and his audible satisfaction has grown louder. the fear in me, well, that disappears. i don’t like being used in this way. taken advantage of.

“hones..honestly! you’re hurting me so please just get the fuck off me!”

he pins me down fully, almost like dead weight on top of me. he digs sharply into me like a shovel, tearing away at my insides a gluttonous thrust at a time. my tears crystallise, my body aches. it’s as if my heart is in the place of my brain; the pulses banging on my skull. i throw a series of blows to his chest, but even that works against me.

“don’t fight it. the only thing that’ll do is make me fuck you harder!”

my heart is thundering, there’s an apocalypse going on in each of the chambers and it’s taking everything in me to focus through the rumble. my hand despairingly searches for something on the nightstand, anything.

amongst the lamp, the tissue box, an opened marlboro pack, a lighter, a vape pen and some empty red bull cans, i finally hit jackpot. insanely tight, my fingers encircle themselves around the glass body of a corona extra.

1, 2, 3.

“fucking bitch!” he roars, clasping his head.

this gives me enough time to escape from underneath him. i fall out of the bed, slide back into my dress and leave everything else behind.

“rosé!!” theo growls after me, grabbing his boxers.

barefoot, i run to the stairs. only a meter away from the staircase when a hand latches onto my ankle, tripping me over. theo cusses and tries to claw his way atop of me, but i flip over and kick him in the nose. he groans loudly and releases me, cupping his nose.

i run down the stairs, feeling him only a step or two behind me. i slam into the door and begin desperately unhinging each lock in a row. fuck, how many goddamn locks does this guy have?! when the last one gets undone, i pull down on the handle only to be ruthlessly pulled right back with my fucking hair.

“where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?!” theo snarls. “i ain’t done with you yet, babygirl.”

i scream, holding onto his hands holding my hair. he sickly inhales the scent of my neck and places his palm over my mouth. i bite down immensely hard. he rips his hand free and stumbles back.

silence.

i’m just so scared.

so, so scared.

i don’t see blue eyes anymore. i see grey. pure grey. they stare right through my soul, irises of like hurricanes trapped in tiny snow globes. the globes begin to crack, bit by bit... there will be an avalanche in just milliseconds.

i open the door, stumbling out onto the lawn before regaining my balance and breaking into a sprint. i look over my shoulder when suddenly i bump into a wall right in front of me, forcing me to arrive at a standstill.

glancing up, it’s not…a wall but..

isaac killian.

[illfoandillfie]

A sequel to Hoodie with Sub!Ben

Oh I have the biggest soft spot for sub!Ben lmao. This is on the shorter side but I hope you like it!

Hoodie

1000 Follower Celebration

~~~

When you left that morning you’d thought nothingof the hoodie you’d been wearing. Ben’s hoodie. It was cold out and you had abunch of errands to run so you wanted to feel as comfortable as possible whiledoing them. It didn’t even occur to you that it wasn’t your own jumper untilyou got Ben’s message asking how far off you were. When you told him you werestill around fifteen minutes away he replied with a sad emoji and a miss you.You chuckled to yourself and glanced at your uber driver. Miss you wasBen speak for I’m horny, why aren’t you here?

You: Just look at the photos we took when I stoleyour hoodie.

Ben: How do you think I got into this situation.

You: I stole it again today. Wearing it right now

Ben: Come home so I can take it back

You: Maybe I don’t want to give it back, it’svery comfy

Ben: Guess I’ll have to convince you

You: Okay convince me

You: No touching until I get home

You watched as Ben began typing and then deleted hisreply, the three dots disappearing and then reappearing and then disappearing oncemore. Finally, he responded. Two simple letters. OK.

The drive took less time than you’d estimated dueto a string of green lights and thinner traffic than you’d have guessed wouldbe on the road at that time. The good luck you had in the car meant yousurprised Ben when you walked through the bedroom door, although he wasn’t theonly surprised one. You found him, lying in bed, headphones in and eyes shut ashe jerked himself off. You took the few steps towards the bed, tugging theheadphone from his ear. He yelled in surprise and pulled his hand away, hiseyes widening as he realised just what had happened.

“Thought I gave you an instruction, pretty boy,”you slowly began to strip as you spoke, toeing off your shoes, peeling off yoursocks, and pants. You left the hoodie on and settled yourself on the bed,wrapping your hand around Ben’s leaking cock.

“Thought you s-said fifteen minutes. Fuck, feelsgood,”

“You’re so needy today,” you cooed, watchingBen’s every reaction closely, “did you plan on getting off without me and then havingme when I got home too?”

“Yes,” his voice was breathy, already so far gonewhen you’d arrived home, close to finishing.

“Greedy.” You stopped, moving your hand away ashe whined at the loss, “oh, bub, did you think I was actually going to let youfinish?”

“Hoped you would,”

“Well, you can forget that. Not going to happenany time soon. So,” you paused and lightly trailed your fingertips over Ben’sthigh, making his breath huff loudly from his nose, as you waited for him tocalm down enough for you to continue, “You were looking at those photos of me?”

“Yes,” his speech stuttered out into a guttural moanas you began stroking his cock again.

“And listening to that little audio recording youmade of me?”

“Yes, fuck please don’t stop,”

You stopped, smiling at his frustrated whine, “Doyou look at them a lot?”

“Sometimes,” his voice was a little shaky as hetried to control his panted breaths, “especially when I’m away.”

“Perhaps I should take a few for myself then,”you pulled your phone from the pocket of the hoodie, opening up the camera andsnapping off a few quick shots. But that wasn’t quite enough. If you were goingto get off to visual stimulus, you’d prefer video. So you switched to recordingmode and hit the red button, “Now, bub, be a good boy and tell the camera whatyou want,”

“I-I want to cum,”

“Poor baby, so desperate. Why don’t you go aheadand ask for it then,”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ben asyou once again worked your fist over his cock, using your thumb to collect thepre-cum from his tip and spread it down his shaft, “fuck, please let me cum.”

“Think you can do a bit better than that. I toldyou I needed convincing.”

“Please please please,” his words came faster ashe got closer to the edge, his head pressed back into the pillow, “I, fuck, In-need it.”

“That’ll definitely help me next time I’m all onmy own,” you said as you stopped the recording and Ben’s orgasm, his frustratedcry ringing out behind your words, “you’re being such a good boy now, bub,promise I’ll give you what you want soon.”

“R-r-really?”

“Very soon, just one little thing first, okay?Wait right there for me.”

Ben just nodded, letting out a sigh of relief athis reprieve, as you stood up and made your way to the cupboard. After somemomentary digging you found what you were looking for – a piece of rope. Youmade sure to wriggle out of your underwear before taking it back towards thebed.

Ben made a small noise in his throat when youreturned and showed him what was in your hands.

“You okay if I tie you up?”

“God yes,”

You laughed softly as you leant over so you couldbind his hands to the headboard, pressing a kiss to his lips when you were done.

“Are you at least going to take my hoodie off?”Ben asked as he tested the strength of your knot. It held.

“No. Don’t think I will.”

“But you know how much I like watching your titsas you ride me,”

“Yes but I’m a little concerned with how closeyou are and I fear that one look at them would have you cumming before I’mready to let you. Also I’m not going to ride you. At least not yet.”

“You’re not?”

You pouted as you shook your head, “Sorry, bub,but we both know you’re not going to last very long, especially not when you’rein my warm, wet cunt,” you enunciated the last three words clearly, Ben’sbreath hitching with each one, “and I’d like to get off at least once beforeyou blow your load.” You repositioned yourself on his thigh, slowly beginningto rock back and forth, humming as you finally got the friction you needed.

“Babe, really?”

“‘Fraid so. But you don’t mind, do you?” You adjustedyour pace, leaning backward with one hand on his shin, grinding harder againsthis thigh.

“No,”

“No, you don’t mind at all,” you panted, “You quitelike, fuck, when I do things like this, tease you and mmm-make you wait.”

“Plus, I like watching you when you cum. It’s whyI love it when you ride me.”

Small whines caught in your throat as you draggedyour cunt back and forth on his thigh, getting lost in the feeling on your clit,the way your slick spread to his leg, how rough and deep his voice was as hekept talking, simultaneously trying to distract himself and push you closer toorgasm.

“Could watch you all day when you’re on top ofme. The way your eyes slip shut and you throw your head back. Just like that. Youlook so hot,” Ben tensed his thigh in an effort to help you along, “all I wantto do is touch you. Lick your neck and squeeze your tits and hold your hips.Maybe slap your arse because I know how much it turns you on.”

“But, ohh, but I kn-know how much it turns you on-nwhen you’re tied up. Can’t reach me.”

“Turns me on so much. Please, Y/N, please cum soon.I don’t think I can last much longer.”

“I’m no-not even t-touching you,”

“No but I can feel how fucking soaked you are andall I can think about is being inside your cunt. Please, I want it so bad. Iknow you’re close. I can tell when you get close because of the way you breatheand those filthy fucking noises your making. It’s my favourite sound in theworld. Wish you were riding me though, squeezing my cock as you moan my name. Ipromise I’ll be good and do whatever you want if you just ride me.”

“Ben,” you moaned, so close to falling over theedge but not quite able to get there, “fuck it, okay, yes. Want you inside me,”you stopped grinding on Ben’s thigh, still breathing heavy as you shuffled forwardon your knees and sunk down onto his cock.

“Shit, shit, shit,”

“Soon Benny, just hold it for a little longer,”

He’d given up on speaking, biting his lip as henodded and tried to hold back his climax. As soon as you could you beganmoving, raising yourself on your knees as your hand slipped down to your clit.Ben jerked in his restraints, as you leaned forward to kiss him, whiningagainst his lips as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“So close, so close,” your muttered, face onlyinches from Ben’s, his panted breaths mingling with yours in the space betweenyou, “F-fuck you can cum Ben, cum for me.”

It was all he needed to hear, moaning your nameas he finally let go though the sound was quickly joined by your own moan as yourrelease washed over you, eyes slipping shut.

When you managed to pry your eyes open again youfound Ben watching you.

“What?” you asked, slightly breathlessly.

“Told you, I like watching you.”

“Not sure the romance outweighs the creep factorthere, Benny boy,” you pushed yourself up and carefully lifted yourself fromhis lap, shuffling up the bed on your knees so you could untie him.

“Excuse you but I think it’s very romantic of me,”as soon as his arms were free he propped himself up on one arm and leanedforward to kiss your knee, “Besides, if I like watching I’ve got more incentiveto keep making sure it happens.”

“Oh well that is definitely a benefit,” you turnedaround and stretched out, letting Ben pull you into his arms and kiss you deeply,“how’re you feeling?”

“I’m good,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder ashe snuggled closer, One hand playing absentmindedly with the hem of the hoodie, “just happy I can actually touch you now. Also happy yougot home so fast and caught me.”

“Me too, that was fun. You want me to get youanything? A drink of water maybe, or something to eat?”

“In a minute, just kinda want to stay here for abit longer.”

“Whatever you need, bub,” you let out a deepbreath, relaxing into Ben’s chest as you brought your hand up to stroke his hair.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Lucky Charm

Am I jumping on the “I heart Mandalorian” train? Yes indeed, absolutely. This is going to be a three part Drabble (unless I lose control and write more idk I can't seem to ever control whether or not that happens 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Summary: For someone who used to be called a lucky charm, you found that trouble seemed to find you fairly easily. This time trouble came in the form of a beskar plated warrior and tiny green bean, adorable baby. The first rule of being on the run was do not make connections, but you were quickly learning that this rule was the most difficult of all to follow.

PART ONE

Mandalorian x Female!Reader

Warnings: cursing, non-descriptive violence

2,713 words

The town was cheerful. That was the only word you could really think of to fit it well. It was one of those small towns where people just enjoyed their day to day life. It didn’t matter that it seemed repetitive. The same people walked the same path greeting the same vendors, but every day you watched them do so without ever getting tired of it. You admired that. You admired that they could live their life so happily and not pay time or worry to any stress they may have. And, you knew they had stress. This was a rural town on a rural world in the middle of absolute nowhere. Ships didn’t come in or out very often which left their minimal economics limited to just them. You could see they didn’t have much to work with. Most people didn’t pay for items on main street with credits, but rather with favors and goods.

This was the only reason you had managed to survive so long out here though. All you had to your name at the moment were the clothes on your back and a few knick knacks from an past life you couldn’t return to. Everything else you had spent on getting a ride out to this itty, bitty ball of dirt. The fact that it was in the middle of nowhere with no trade routes meant that the only people stumbling across it were those who knew it was there or those who were actively seeking the safe haven it provided.

You were the latter of those two.

There was a number of people who were out for your head, and it was hardly fair because it wasn’t even your fault. Your dearest, beloved father had been a crook and con man who made more enemies than friends during his long life. He gambled poorly, borrowed money from the sketchiest this universe could offer, and straight up tricked some real shady characters out of their wealth entirely. Honestly, it was a little impressive how much damage he could cause, and somehow, he had managed to weasel his way out of it all.

That’s what forced you into this unpleasant journey. A message had come into your workplace and told you that your father had passed away in his sleep. It saddened you, but it didn’t crush you. It had been years since you had spoken to him. He kept his distance after you gave up and told him his life was shit and you wanted no part with it. Hell, the last time you saw him he had stolen a decent amount of your credits before slipping away in to the black of space again.

So, seeing his death hadn’t exactly broken you. The second message to come though, from a rather famous, crooked politician, had stilled you to your very core. You knew your dad had dealings with him. He had bragged about how much money he managed to take from the man, but you didn’t know exactly how much it had been until said man told you he planned to take it all from you.

With your father’s death, you now owed all the people he faulted.

Again, you didn’t see how this was fair at all, but life tended to suck like that. Since you had no real way to actually pay back that loan you did the one thing that made sense. You packed up your bags and fucking ran. It was one of the skills you got from your father ironically enough. It was almost fitting that you had to use the skillset he taught you to deal with the mess he put you in.

See, as a kid who never knew her mom, you were forced to live that kind of life with him in your early years. In fact, for many of his cons he used you as a prop or partner. He taught you how to lie, to cheat, to trick, and he used to make you feel proud of it. “My little lucky charm” is the phrase he’d coo at you when you were young and naïve enough to want to make him happy. Your father always joked that no con could go south when he had you with him. It warmed your little criminal heart until you got old enough to figure out that this wasn’t a normal life. More than anything, your dad wanted you to go into the family business with him as an adult. A true partner now. Calling you his lucky charm wouldn’t work anymore though and you left him. You burned that past life and built something new from the ashes. You learned how to manually work with your hands. Became a mechanic, a damn good one if you said so yourself, but not good enough to be earning the kind of credits you now needed.

Especially, since last you heard other con men and criminals were now seeking you out as well to pay for your father’s sins. If you could visit your father’s grave without getting caught, you’d spit on it. Conning, greedy asshole.

So, all of that left you here. Trapped on a planet with nothing to your name, but you were safe. At least you were safe.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Brandy, a middle-aged woman who had taken pity on you real early on, dropped a plate of food in front of you with a broad smile. You offered her one in return, but before you could speak, she was whisked away by another customer. She owned a small little restaurant in town, and she was the reason you hadn’t starved to death yet. Brandy was adamant about this not being an issue once you described your problems to her, but you still planned on paying her back someday. For now, all you could do was fix some of her older machines anytime they broke down and keep her one serving drone in tip top shape, which was fairly difficult since he was made mostly of repair tape and sheer willpower at this point.

You dug into your food, enjoying the warm breeze in the air carrying the smell of the pine trees and the soft, cheery prattle of the street around you. The sun was beating down today, but your table was half hidden by the shade of an awning.

You were halfway through your meal when you spotted someone new. It was easy enough to do since everything here was always the same, but this stranger was even easier to spot. He was Mandalorian. Your heart stopped and it felt like someone had filled your stomach with lead. Mandalorians were terrifying war machines who lived for the hunt. That’s what all the stories you had heard lead you to believe at least. They were skilled bounty hunters, and you were someone with a big ass bounty on your head.

The urge to jump up and run was strong, but for some miraculous reason, this silver, beskar plated beast hadn’t spotted you yet. That said something about their reputation. If they were as good of a bounty hunter as people said then how come this one was marching down main street without even spotting you.

Maybe he wasn’t here for you? Your luck was good, but never that good.

As your mind raced, the Mandalorian began to pass you and your eyes landed on the small creature toddling after him. It was tiny and comically covered in a burlap sack looking cloak. He wasn’t very fast, but the Mandalorian was walking slow enough that the green, long eared creature could follow.

What the fuck?

Suddenly, the green thing turned and caught your gaze. It was cute, that couldn’t be denied, but all you could think was that this thing was about to blow your cover. It stopped walking and you cursed under your breath. The green thing just stared and stared, and you did the only thing your panicking brain could think of.

You waved at it.

Just a small wave. A little twitch of your hand. The creature tilted its head, thinking, then lifted its hands and closed and opened his fist. The smallest baby wave you’ve ever seen. Despite the fear of being dragged in by a helmeted bounty hunter you couldn’t help but crack a smile. Shit, this thing was adorable.

The Mandalorian was back in sight. Shit, the panic in you returned. He didn’t even glance in your direction though. He just scooped up the creature and continued on his way. You turned in your seat to watch him quickly move down main street. That was odd. Really odd. Slowly, you turned back to your food relief settling over you.

Maybe the universe was finally smiling down on you.

++++

Honestly, this was your own fault. You had jinxed yourself. Gunfire and screaming filled the street of this pleasant little town and it made you sick to your stomach. This hadn’t been about you, you don’t think. The fighting started separate from you, but you felt guilty all the same. These people were peacefully living their lives and someone like you, on the run or trying to catch someone on the run, had ruined it. You assumed that there was some other bounty hiding in this town you didn’t know about and the Mandalorian had found them. That was the only explanation you could think of for the war going down on main street. It must have been a pack of runaways though and these pack were putting up a hell of a fight.

The pillar you were hiding behind was fired upon again with a stray shot and you ducked down with your arms around your knees. You cursed your father one more time before taking in a sharp breath and peeking around the corner. Two men in leather armored clothes were firing their blasters down the street at their target. You hadn’t spotted the Mandalorian in this fire fight yet, and you wondered if he was in the cloud of smoke that these two guys were firing into.

Their distracted gaze gave you the perfect opportunity to slip away though. As you took a step back your eyes landed on a familiar green baby. This had to be a fucking joke. The child was standing alone by a smoldering cart, and his eyes were trained on you. He didn’t seem all too concerned with his location, but you were plenty concerned for him. Where the hell was that damned Mandalorian? Wasn’t it his buddy or something?

The kid lifted his hand, giving you another small baby wave, and then a pair of arms scooped him up. The green baby let out a small cry at that, and you realized the arms that held him were not covered in Mandalorian armor. It was the last guy of the pack of three that was causing all this trouble. Why did he have the kid all of a sudden?

Without thinking, because if you had spared this any thought you’d realize how stupid of a plan this was, you rushed past a few more of the pillars on the side until you came out into the street behind the goon. He whipped around, blaster raised, and leveled a deadly glare on you.

You lifted your hands with a cheeky smile, “Uh, hi there.”

“Get the fuck out of the way!” He barked. There was an accent in his voice, a rural one, but you couldn’t place the planet it came from. He paused then narrowed his eyes at you, “Wait a minute, I know that face. You’re John’s little girl.”

Of course, this low life knew your father. You don’t know why you expected anything else. You nodded, “Yeah. That I am. So, you were friends with my dad?”

“Fuck John! Do you know how many bounty rewards he stole from us??” The guy barked. Probably a lot, you would imagine. You glanced at the kid in his arms who was staring at you again with a small smile that showed his tiny teeth. How was this kid not terrified? The blaster was nudged toward you and you realized he had been talking this entire time. Oops. “Now we can turn you in and get back all the money we lost. How perfect.”

You slowly began to lower your hands, “I really don’t think you wanna do that.”

“And why no-” You were quick with your hands. The kind of quick that made you think most of it was probably just sheer luck like your dad said. You grabbed the blaster with one hand, slapping his hand off it with the other and turned the blaster on him without batting an eye.

You held out your other hand while the goon cursed at you, “Kid please.” He snapped at you and you fired at his feet once making him jump back. You took a step toward and more firmly this time spoke, “Kid, please.”

“You bitch.” He threw the child at you, the child that cooed as you barely managed to catch him. You were off balance doing so and the thug had ample opportunity to steal back the blaster or just straight hit you, but instead he cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground with a blaster burn in his back.

You clutched the cooing child to your chest and held the blaster up, trying to keep your hand from shaking, as the Mandalorian himself marched up to you with his own blaster in hand. Your hands were quick, and you were relatively lucky, but you knew that you didn’t have enough of either to go head to head with him.

“Stay back.” You barked at him. “I will shoot.”

That was a blatant lie. Skills you gained while running with your father in that past, past life included brawling and stealing and being able to do cool tricks like you had just done with the asshole who was now dead in front of you, but shooting had not been one of those skills. You didn’t think you’d be able to actually fire at a person. Firing at the person’s feet to spook them was one thing, and something told you the Mandalorian wasn’t going to even blink if you shot at his feet.

“I don’t think you will.” The Mandalorian spoke. His voice was deep and hearing it through his helmet’s modulator added an unusual tone to it. He closed the space between you, stepping over the body, but then he did something you didn’t expect. He put his blaster away and held his own hands up. “I just want the kid.”

Hearing his words, the child began to squirm in your arms and babble loudly. You glanced down at him and he turned to look up at you with his large eyes. His ears twitched. Carefully, you held him out, keeping your blaster up, and the Mandalorian took him from you.

“You were never here for me. They came for you.” You said aloud in thought while watching as the child continually waved at you from the armored grip that held him.

“Why would I be here for you?” The Mandalorian asked, your eyes darted to his helmet, but he took this as an answer alone. “You have a bounty on you.” The grip around your blaster tightened and you clenched your jaw. So, he hadn’t known before. Did him knowing now change things? Apparently, the thick silver helmet didn’t mar his vision any because he noticed your tense shoulders, “I have no quarrel with you. I won’t be going after your bounty.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.” You slowly backed away and was pleased that he remained where he was. “Maybe next time don’t bring your kid to a firefight.”

The Mandalorian didn’t reply. You glanced at the kid who had stopped babbling and waving when you walked away. With a small smile, you offered the green child a wave like before then ducked into the alley to your right to run away.

If your luck really was as good as you thought it was, then you’d never see that beskar plated helmet again.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 246: Plot Whiplash

Previously on BnHA: Hawks handed Endeavor a copy of Re-Destro’s NYT bestseller and was all “ಠ_ಠ READ THIS!!” He then flew off back to the PLF and was all “hey guys just got back from handing out free copies of Destro’s book to everyone in a 1000-mile radius, which absolutely nobody asked me to do, well anyways you can thank me later” and they were all “SWEET.” Back at the Endeavor HQ, Bakugou got all fired up to BUST SOME HEADS but Endeavor’s sidekicks were all “WAIT FOR THE PLOT YOUNG MAN.” Meanwhile in his office, Endeavor discovered a secret code in the book Hawks gave him, which basically read “HEY WHAT’S UP THE LEAGUE HAS TAKEN OVER THE MLA AND HAS AN ARMY OF 100,000 PEOPLE” and Endeavor was like “!!!!” And then we cut to the League and Toga was all “IN FOUR MONTHS TOMURA IS BLOWING THIS SHIT TO KINGDOM COME” and then the chapter just ended. Sometimes it be like that.

Today on BnHA: Tomura sits down with Ujiko who monologues a bit about Quirk Singularity and then starts some sort of quirk-upgrading process which will apparently take four months to fully set in. And also he’s like “oh btw let me tell you about One for All” so THAT’S A THING NOW, GREAT. We then cut back and forth between Endeavor and Hawks, who both somehow come to the weird conclusion that THE INTERNS ARE OUR ONLY HOPE NOW using logic that is hard to explain on account of THERE ACTUALLY ISN’T ANY LOGIC BEHIND IT, SHHH. But anyway, so Endeavor figures out the rest of Hawks’s message and he knows that Hawks is trying to figure out what the League is up to, and something something that’s why the internships are so important. Like, I get that the Terrible Trio are future legends in the making, but these guys are seriously like “well okay let’s just go ahead and rest all our hopes on them” out of the blue, and Hawks has this big monologue about how “THINGS WON’T GO ACCORDING TO YOUR PLAN, VILLAINS” and okay then!! And then the last two pages are basically just DID SOMEBODY ORDER SOME HYPE with more shit going on than I can possibly sum up so I won’t even try lol. But damn.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.) 

okay guys, I’m feeling kinda under the weather today, but I know this chapter’s gonna be good so lesssssss gooooooo. bring me back to life Horikoshi

(ETA: lol well there sure was a lot happening in this chapter, that’s for sure. my head hurts.)

oooooh it’s a sexy Jump cover celebrating season 4!

I really need the anime team to step up and give Ochako and Tsuyu some more screentime in the Basement Arc since the manga did not do them justice. there’s only like a 20% chance of that happening, which is depressing, but it’s 2019 and the winds are slowly changing, albeit at a geriatric pace. so I’ll allow myself to have some hope. you never know

YEAH SON LOOK AT THIS COLOR SPREAD Y’ALL THIS IS RAD

hello I love everything about this. the colors, the focus on our best girls, Deku’s bizarre-yet-awesome assorted sci-fi accessories (Deku do those headphones let you communicate with space or what), and of course, the five million TVs in the background which for some reason all appear to be from the 70s. all of this to remind us to TUNE IN TOMORROW FOR THE LONG-AWAITED SEASON 4 DEBUT. I will definitely tune in! the first episode is just gonna be the usual half filler/half clip show, but honestly season 3 was so good that I could sit through a whole hour of nothing but highlights and still be thoroughly entertained

anyway let’s move on because there are GAMES AFOOT, and we’re hopefully about to learn which direction this arc will be headed in!

OH SHIT OH FUCK

yep, that’s him. Shigaraki “destruction incarnate” Tomura. I see we’re getting our weekly dose of “just a reminder that WE ARE SCREWED” even earlier than usual this chapter, huh

so does anyone else get a chill up their spine every time Ujiko makes an appearance, or is that just me? like, god. he may honestly be even creepier than AFO. he’s just completely soulless, this guy. he’s got like this Mengele vibe to him (though that may be kinda dicey to compare horrific real-life atrocities to fictional ones in a shounen manga, but I’m just trying to explain why I find him so disturbing) and it really freaks me the hell out, ngl. anyways so him wearing a surgical mask and standing in front of this weird examination chair is pretty much the last thing I need right now. go away Ujiko

so Tomura is all “I want it cuz you promised, so pay up jackass”, and like. fair, though

I really like this new art style Horikoshi’s been using for him since his Awakening. kinda curious how it’s going to translate to the anime, or even to a color spread. but at the very least in black and white it looks siiiiick

smh look at this little punk trying to downplay how insanely freaking overpowered his quirk currently is

okay first of all, “President Baldy” is only alive because you left him alive. and he also had to chop off his own legs to stay that way. like, what kind of argument is this, Tomura? “this power is far from invincible, all my enemies have to do is amputate their own limbs and then they’ll have me right where they want me.” you know what, just go on and destroy the world right now kid. you’re getting greedy now and it could be your undoing

that is a nice parallel between him and Deku there, though. now I’m craving some Symbolic Artwork of them standing back to back each holding out their scarred right arms. maybe with their respective mentors in the background. here at BnHA we prefer our parallels nice and dramatic

sdskfjlaskdj

son of a bitch. I really wish he wouldn’t say that with such utter certainty. “the next conflict will be our last.” cue me flipping through the BnHA table of contents and trying to determine just how far along we actually are here, because this is veering dangerously close to Final Battle signaling, and like, ALREADY?? TOMURA ARE YOU JUST BEING THEATRICAL OR ARE YOU FOR REAL OMG. motherfucking DARK LORD’S LIPS curling into the WICKEDEST FUCKING CRESCENT I’VE EVER SEEN, fuck me

(ETA: it occurs to me on readthrough #2 that “the next conflict will be our last” could be interpreted to mean him and All Might specifically. like, the last conflict between the two of them. and that might very well be true, and would not surprise me at all. shit.)

fjsgk now Ujiko’s talking about research. and quirks!! glkjlkl

fully expecting the camera to cut to some NOUMUS any second now oh my god. also trying not to think about how crazy ominous that fucking chair looks. and how many people this maniac has probably strapped down to it and done god knows what to them. hey Horikoshi you know what, I’ve had just about enough of this dark shit, can we please cut back to my kids now I’m feeling too unsettled. goddammit

anyhow of course we are NOT cutting away, and Ujiko is continuing to talk about quirk evolution, and now segueing into a speech about that quirk singularity thing. -- which he apparently named?? wow

is he actually going to do something to Tomura? holy shit?? this whole time that they’ve been talking about this “power” I’ve just been assuming it was something external, like some other handy dandy villain resource that AFO’s just been sitting on or something. this is not where I expected things to go. didn’t he just get an upgrade??

anyway so here’s a brief summary I just wrote up of The Past Six Months of BnHA:

Deku: [gets a new quirk]

everyone: bruh. Horikoshi really out here giving Deku AFO Powers while Tomura just sits around starving to death on a couch. what the heck

Horikoshi: [powers up Tomura to the point where he can destroy anything just by it being in contact with something that Tomura happens to be touching] [has Tomura use this power to level an entire city]

everyone: -- oh. okay, you know what, never mind --

Horikoshi: [gives Tomura an army of 100,000 people] [also gives him command of 11 extremely lethal and nigh-unstoppable killing machines, just one of which was almost enough to take out the number one hero, LITERALLY THE STRONGEST GUY THE GOOD GUYS CURRENTLY HAVE IN RESERVE]

everyone: okay we’re sorry we get it you can sto --

Horikoshi: APOCALYPSE IN FOUR MONTHS!!!

everyone: WE GET IT WE’RE SORRY PLEASE

Horikoshi: [GIVES TOMURA ANOTHER POWER-UP]

everyone: [curled up in fetal position sobbing]

starting to think the mangaka might be the actual final villain here. hmm

anyway. so I guess we have four months until Tomura ascends to Actual Godhood and proceeds to rain hellfire down upon the world. what are you all gonna do with your four months. I personally have a lot of stuff to binge, but knowing me I’ll probably just waste all my time reading fanfic while youtube videos play in the background which I’m not paying any attention to. what am I doing with my life

oh were we not done hyping him up? there’s more??

(ETA: I got so caught up in the OFA comment I didn’t pay attention to Tomura becoming a beautiful decayed butterfly in this exquisitely creepy panel here. but damn.)

-- HOLD THE FUCK UP. does Tomura know about One for All??? because I was under the impression that AFO hadn’t told him? this would change a lot if he knew this entire time, holy shit?!

aaaaaaaaand exactly one panel later Horikoshi is all “no he didn’t know calm the fuck down” lol

okay then. so he didn’t know, and he’s only just finding out now. well tbh that’s still worthy of a smiling crying emoji face though :’) this is fineeee

shit here we go oh shit

-- WAIT, SO WE’RE JUST CUTTING AWAY FROM THEM? NOW YOU CUT AWAY? YOU GET WITHIN INCHES OF CONFIRMING THE FUCKING ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL THEORY AND THEN IT’S JUST “ANYWAYS HERE’S ENDEAVOR” YOU KNOW WHAT, HORIKOSHI, I --

just. come on dude. AFOFA 2019! let’s make it happen! dammit

sigh, so looks like it’s back to the admittedly-still-epic “Hawks passes down secret information about the villains to Endeavor” plot. I guess we’re not exactly hurting for good plots all around. I may complain but honestly we are spoiled

so Hawks is saying that he actually doesn’t know the specifics of the villains’ plans yet. well shit

apparently his feathers can only pick up sounds from short range, and the villains keep escorting him away whenever they get to talking about the good stuff. well at least that explains that potential plot hole from last week. Hawks’s feathers may have a short range, but Horikoshi’s plot hole caulking gun can fill in leaky plot holes from fucking miles away. amazing

ffffffff

don’t mind me I’m just sitting here fretting about Hawks continuing to be in mortal danger and risking his life to gather information in a race against time against the end of the world. Horikoshi out here piling up stakes like a freaking vampire hunter

but in the meantime, everyone please stop what you’re doing for a moment to look at this absolute unit of a bellhop slash security guard

apologies Lord Vader he was just trying to get to the dining hall. my bad. as you were

and holy shit I hope you enjoyed that light comedic break because two seconds later Re-Destro has dropped in to fixate Hawks with one of those Lightly Menacing Smiles he’s so infamous for. so that’s just fucking great!

HAWKS WATCH OUT FOR YOUR FINGERS

omg. imagine, a showdown between the two stealth murder MVPs of the series, Yotsubashi “Sleeper Hold” Rikiya (yes I did have to look up his real name just now) and Takami “Tag Em And Bag Em” Keigo. true, RD may no longer have legs, but he didn’t need them to choke out our little mouse buddy now did he? anyways speaking of which I just remembered that I fucking hate Re-Destro and I honestly hope Hawks does kill him. it’d be pretty easy to fit him into a bag too. he’s basically just a torso and arms now

oh sure Horikoshi go ahead and spring this on me after all of that ranting why don’t you

by the way does Re-Destro have Robot Legs now, or

looool he does

I will say this for Horikoshi, he knows my weaknesses. more robot limbs please. either badass or memeable ones, either is fine

meanwhile I skipped over this panel of Hawks and Twice being buddies in order to get to the legs, and shame on me for that. let’s go back

Twice is a genuinely good guy and I hope Hawks can tell. I wonder how fake this smile is. I feel like it’d be easy to relax around Twice regardless of how tense you are about your secret spy mission which could go south at any time. anyways this is wholesome

and now we’re cutting back to Endeavor who is taking his sweet time reacting to this whole thing. Endeavor can you fucking chill with the poker face already geez

okay wait, what

are you serious?! I fucking can’t with this lady. “now make sure to throw these children directly into the line of fire! it’s good for them and builds character!” I’m sorry, I thought this was the Hero Public Safety Commission, not the Putting Juveniles Directly Into Harm’s Way Commission?? at least change the acronym to something more appropriate then. Heinous Pathetic Soulless Cowards. just a suggestion. jesus

anyway so for a moment I got confused as to whether this was implying that she’d told Endeavor about Hawks’s undercover mission. but it seems like he’s still unaware. shouldn’t be too long before he puts the pieces together though at this rate

lol in the very next panel, even

meanwhile you’re just sitting on your ass reading a book! FUCKING DO SOMETHING ALREADY, ENDEAVOR

so he’s thinking that the “preparation” part of Hawks’s message is referring to the interns. let me back up a sec and write down the entire message as he’s read it thus far

“four months from now / rising to action / until then / will send / signals / in case / of failure / preparation / numbers”

...read like that, it really does sound like Hawks is advocating to get as many soldiers ready as possible. even if that includes actual children. including Endeavor’s own son. shit. I mean, I get that they don’t have much of a choice, but that’s still so fucked up. sure, we as omniscient readers know that Deku is their one and only hope, but they don’t know that. as far as they know these are just a bunch of teenagers with less than a year’s worth of experience that they’re propping up on the front lines. and the plan is then... what? hope they don’t die too quickly?? fuck

Hawks is out here having an argument with me in his thoughts. you wanna play it like that, Hawks? fine

I don’t know what kind of “but” you can tag on to the end of that paragraph that could possibly win me over, dude, but go for it I guess

and we’re finally cutting back to the kids in question now! with Burnin’ casually trying to crush Kacchan’s hopes and dreams

okay but I love how both Deku and Shouto are like “easy there buddy, we got you” and trying to keep Kacchan from having a fucking aneurysm sob. JUST TRY AND HOIST HIM ONTO SOME DUMB SIDEKICKS, LADY. YOU’VE MADE A POWERFUL ENEMY HERE TODAY

oh shit

oh my god. are we going to get our first actual interaction between the three of them that doesn’t consist of them grumbling annoyed introductions at each other and then running off to fight an old fortune teller omggggg

I love how Deku and Bakugou look weirdly intimidated by him lol. Bakugou where did all that “YOU’RE KIND OF A JERK” confidence go all of a sudden

YESSSSSSS

GODDAMMIT, I’M STILL SO MAD AT YOU GUYS FOR BEING ALL “LET’S JUST MAKE THE CHILDREN DO IT,” BUT DAMMIT THEY KICK ASS THOUGH SO I CAN KINDA SEE YOUR POINT

NOW HAWKS IS METAING ABOUT THEM AHHHHHHH

DAMN STRAIGHT THEY WOULD HAVE. BRING ON TOMURA AND ALL OF HIS STUPID POWER-UPS. WOW I’M WEIRDLY HYPED UP ALL OF A SUDDEN WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME

AND FUCKING LOOK AT THIS TWO-PAGE SPREAD AHHHHHHHHHHH

MOTHERFUCKER [WHIPS OUT PEN AND NOTEBOOK] TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BITCH

so Ochako and Tsuyu did indeed go back to intern with Ryuukyuu again! makes sense, she is a top ten hero after all. who’s that with them, though? almost looks like Yanagi from the hair and the mask, but the costume looks different? hmm

I CAN’T BELIEVE IIDA WENT BACK TO INTERN WITH FUCKING MANUAL AGAIN. THIS GUY IS THE BRAN CEREAL OF HEROES. though I fucking love him though so yeah it’s fine

JIROU AND SHOUJI TEAMING UP WITH GANG FUCKING ORCA AW YISS BOYS THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT LET’S GOOOO

KOUDA AND MANGA TEAMING UP WITH WASH OMG. MANGA IS THE ONLY ONE ON THAT TEAM WHO ACTUALLY FUCKING SPEAKS. IS WASH’S SIDEKICK SOME SORT OF BROOM PERSON OMG

A WHOLE FUCKING ACRE OF KIDS HAVE ALL GANGED UP ON THIS CAVEMAN-LOOKING FELLA I DON’T EVEN RECOGNIZE. WHO ARE YOU. DID YOU CROSS OVER FROM THE FANTASY AU

KIRI BACK WITH FG AND BROUGHT TETSUTETSU ALONG FOR THE RIDE HELLS YEAHHHH

KAMINARI AND SERO WITH KAMUI WOODS AND EDGESHOT I’M HYPERVENTILATING AHHH. AND SHIOZAKI TOO!! I’LL JUST PRETEND I DON’T SEE MINETA THERE IN THE CORNER. MIGHT BE TIME TO DUST OFF THE OLD “CANCELLED” STAMP AGAIN BUT WE’LL SEE HOW THINGS GO

WHO ARE MOMO AND TOKAGE AND MINA AND AOYAMA (WHICH BTW IS THE GREATEST HERO TEAMUP OF ALL TIME HOLY SHIT) TEAMING UP WITH!? TELL US. AND PONY AND MONOMA. GODDAMMIT HORIKOSHI

whew! anyway. they’re all still screwed, but by golly that was nice to have that little invigorating breather of life and hope

LOL OH SHIT THERE’S ANOTHER ONE

okay, SOMEONE TELL ME RIGHT THE FUCK NOW WHAT ALL MIGHT IS LOOKING AT OR I’M GONNA LOSE IT. holy shit. he was researching the past users of OFA, wasn’t he? WHAT DID YOU FIND OH GOD. he’s not just upset, he looks one step shy of fucking crying?? did he learn about what happened to Nana’s son and his family, maybe? shit shit shit

so Yanagi is interning with Kendou then? so who was that with Hadou and Ryuukyuu and the rest. one of Ryuukyuu’s sidekicks?

IS THAT FUYUMI (SPOILERS FUCKING YEAH IT IS) AND WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE SHE’S FUCKING PRAYING OMG. it looks like she’s kneeling at a family altar?? like saying a prayer for someone who is PRESUMED DEAD, maybe?? LIKE MAYBE A LONG LOST TWIN BROTHER OH SHIT OUT OF NOWHERE THE HYPE DON’T STOP!!

AND WHY DOES NAO HAVE HIS HAT OFF AND CLUTCHED TO HIS CHEST LIKE HE’S TELLING SOMEONE BAD NEWS. GOD WHAT THE HELL EVEN ARE ALL OF THESE PLOT THINGS HAPPENING ALL OF A SUDDEN. LIKE I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO LOOK NEXT

KUROGIRI AHHHHHHHH

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ERI’S HORN!? DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THIS?? AIZAWA??? HELLO!?!?

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, TEAM OT3. TIME TO FUCKING SUIT UP. APPARENTLY. WELL ALL RIGHT THEN. [JACKET ZIP] [GUN COCKING SOUND EFFECT] LET’S GO PUNCH ‘EM IN THE MOUTH

y’all. this chapter was like plot whiplash. this went in so many different directions and hinted at so many different things that I’m at a complete fucking loss as to what to process first. but I guess the interns are gonna save us all, somehow. lol okay then

[giovanniis]

what  is  UP  my  pals  ,  mis  amigos  .  my  name  is  dab  and  i’m  ur  new  bff  .  besides  that  ,  i’m  also  twenty  ,  use  she/they  pronouns  ,  and  am  kickin’  in  over  here  in  pst  !  under  the  cut  ,  i’m  gonna  ramble  probably  a  lot  about  my  son  ,  giovanni  .  (  spoiler  alert  :  he’s  a  dumbass  who  only  ever  wants  to  talk  about  hockey  .  )   DMISMDA  anyways  .  pls  give  this  a  LIKE  if  u’d  like  to  plot  and  i  will  come  RUNNING  !  my  d*scord  is  𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒊_420#1971  if  u  wanna  hmu  there  !  i’m  gonna  shut  up  here  now  so  i  can  start  babbling  more  below  hehe

chicago’s very own GIOVANNI NARCISO has been spotted on madison avenue driving a range rover , welcome ! your resemblance to shawn mendes is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-second birthday bash  . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re stubborn , but being ambitious might help you . i think being a leo explains that .  3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be the sharpened blades of a pair of ice skates, hockey memorabilia everywhere, and late night escapades . 

╰  *  MINI STATS  !

FULL NAME  :  giovanni  noel  narciso  

NICKNAME(S)  :  gio  ,  g

AGE  :  twenty - two

GENDER  +  PRONOUNS   :  cis  male  +  he  /  him

ORIENTATION  :  bisexual   /   biromantic

ZODIAC  :  leo  sun  ,  gemini  rising  ,  pisces  moon  

BIRTHDAY  :  july  26th  ,  1997

PLACE  OF  BIRTH  :  toronto  ,  ontario  ,  canada 

LOVE  LANGUAGE  :  physical  touch  

OCCUPATION(S)  :  professional  hockey  player  for  the  ny  rangers  ,  socialite  

DRINKING  /  DRUGS  /  SMOKING  :  hell  yes  /  no  /  only  weed

TRAITS  :  stubborn  ,  hotheaded  ,  dramatic  ,  standoffish  ,  brash  ,  overemotional  ,  facetious  ,  distant  ,  provocative  ,  inconsistent  ,  unpredictable  ,  gullible  ,  sympathetic  ,  charming  ,  loyal  ,  hypocritical  ,  protective  ,  talented  ,  ambitious  ,  passionate  ,  affectionate  

LIFE  GOAL  :  make  it  to  the  hockey  hall  of  fame  and  be  remembered  as  the  G  O  A  T  

╰  *  BACKGROUND  INFO  !

giovanni narciso was born in toronto, canada on july 26th to a world-renowned hockey player and his socialite wife. needless to say, gio lived his life in the spotlight from the moment he was born, and he’s always had everything he’s ever wanted right at his fingertips.

from a young age, gio was encouraged to be active all the time. he started skating almost as soon as he learned how to stand up by himself. it’s no wonder that he had such a knack for it with his father being a hockey legend and the fact that he got so much practice. when his father realized that gio had a natural affinity, he put him onto a club hockey team as soon as he was old enough, and started making gio work with a private coach to give him a one-up on his teammates and everyone else on the ice ( despite the fact that he was only seven when he started ).

because of this, he always felt a lot of pressure to be the best he could possibly be… how could he not ? there were sports reporters showing up to his games to get the scoop on how he was doing, and how he compared to his father, and if he’d ever actually make it in professional hockey.

his parents divorced when he was eleven, and his mom moved to marry a much older, wealthy man in chicago, illinois. so, much to his despair, gio lived his life switching from toronto to chicago. the only constant in his life was hockey. so even though it stressed him the fuck out, it also made him feel at peace. he knew no matter where he was, he could get on the ice and kick everyone’s ass. he spent most of his time in chicago with his mom, and attended school there too, but during holidays or the summertime, he spent his time back up in toronto with his dad.

this really took a toll on his mental health because his mom ?? sorta just forgot about him :/ like … she fought for custody just to spite his dad ? she didn’t actually want gio. this sounds kinda dumb but like … sorta think about cinderella ( #gioella ) and how he suddenly got thrust into an entire new family that didn’t really like him or know how to connect with him. he felt really alone more often than not.

luckily, at sixteen, he was signed to a minor league hockey team in chicago. because of this development, he stopped going out to visit toronto as often ( especially when it was game season ). this caused a lot of buzz in the hockey community because oh my god giovanni narciso, son of a hockey legend, was breaking onto the scene

and it SHOULD’VE STAYED THAT WAY !!!! BUT NO ! gio’s dad had other things in mind. demon.

you see, pretty much all throughout high school, gio was dating kylie. she is the love of his life. there’s never been an ounce of doubt about that fact. the sky is blue and gio loves kylie. like ???

gio proposed to kylie when they were eighteen. fresh out of high school. this made gio’s dad LIVID. he didn’t like kylie or her family or anything about her. gio’s plan, of course, was to say a big fuck you ! and marry her anyways. but it didn’t end up working out like that.

sadly, giovanni’s father did not approve of her. was he a little salty that gio chose to stay in chicago and not visit anymore (even if it was because he was signed there) ? yes. was he incredibly greedy and wanted to cement the narciso name in history too ? aaaabsolutely.

as soon as he was eligible at eighteen, gio had multiple offers from nhl franchises to come play for their teams. he could pick and choose whoever he wanted, basically. he was a real hot commodity. but suddenly, the offers were being ripped right from his hands. and it was all because of his dad’s influence in the hockey world. he basically gave gio an ultimatum: marry kylie, and there was no more hockey. or do as he said, and he could have it all.

it was rushed, haphazardly chosen decision, but gio chose hockey. it had helped him through every rough patch in his life, and it was the one thing he knew he was good at. it’s not like he was exceptionally smart or good at anything else. if it wasn’t hockey, then he wasn’t worth anything. that’s something he honestly believes to this day.

so instead of TALKING THIS THROUGH WITH HER LIKE ANY RATIONAL PERSON WOULD ! he straight up left. packed his shit and left in the middle of the night when kylie was asleep. completely ghosted her. didn’t answer her texts, her calls, nothing. blocked her on everything.

he did as his father told him to, and started dating carolina graham, a nice girl that his father liked a lot better

their relationship was reminiscent of p*te dav*dson and ariana grande’s. they very quickly got engaged and they were the talk of all the tabloids. there wasn’t a moment where they could step out without cameras being shoved in their face. this sky-rocketed gio to socialite status. everyone that didn’t already know him from hockey wanted to know the handsome young man now engaged to carolina

ok now lightning round

when he was twenty-one , he secured the bag with the ny rangers DJSIOAJDOA and got a multi-year contract — one of the biggest contracts in the nhl history, and became one of the youngest captains ever .

* more fun facts about gio n hockey : he plays first string center and is #2 !

since his career was actually stable, he decided to stop having to pretend to be in love with someone, and immediately just broke up with carolina. he said goodbye wifey JDSAODSA  aaaaand now , a year later , he’s livin it up !

also ? 1000% still in love with kylie but THAT is a completely different story he is a #simp

╰  *  PERSONALITY  !

hockey is a rough-around-the-edges type of sport, and that’s reflected in gio’s personality. he’s very charming, and is typically a pretty nice person ? he doesn’t go out of his way to be kind or anything but he’s not gonna start a fight for no reason DSAIJDSADSjDI

he’s terribly stubborn, and once he’s set his mind on something, it will happen no matter what or who he has to do. this could be good because in a way, it just means he’s very ambitious, but it’s also bad because he will do and say things without a thought about how it makes someone feel

narciso is a fitting last name because he’s incredibly full of himself. how could he not be ? he’s the son of a hockey legend, and he’s made a great name for himself too. he’s an amazing athlete, and he knows he’s good looking too. it’s no secret that he’s a little big-headed sometimes.

he has a very short temper. he blows his lid very easily, and will say things he probably doesn’t mean just because he wants to hurt you.

he just??? doesn’t think. he doesn’t have a filter literally at all. will say the first thing that comes to mind always and it’s usually fucking stupid sdjdjas… he’s also a big jokester and very sarcastic 

also has a problem with being honest ? lies about everything? the type of person to smile in your face while he stabs you in the back? will lie when there’s no reason to? you could be like “gio did u eat breakfast” and he’ll be like “ya.” even if he didn’t like… dumb shit. don’t ever trust him about anything

ok so he comes off as cocky like… externally… but inside, he’s really insecure? like he believes that love exists because he’s felt it but he doesn’t…. think it was meant for him, if that makes sense. because every time he loves someone, he fucks it all up. because of this, he has a really poor vision of love n everything. uhhhh can u say trust issues?

he’s also a wh*re . i’m so sorry. lowkey craves affection and fills that void with meaningless hookups and one night stands 

most people think he lives up to the ‘dumb jock’ stereotype, which is something he’s also really insecure about. it’s not that he didn’t try in school. he did to a point, but then he just flat out stopped caring. school was always really difficult for him. he was diagnosed with dyslexia when he was 7, and it always made him feel really out of place in school… to the point where he just stopped caring because all it did was made him feel frustrated and dumb when all he needed was some extra help?

he’s misunderstood

and also just… a whole mess tbh djsaios….

u can find some wanted connections here 

[girlwiththegreenhat]

thoughts on ur favorite drink? ur favorite art program? thoughts on keeping a sketchbook? on any pets you have?

HELL yeah thanks for the ask i hope u like tangents on tangents and run on sentences because just like my blog description says, I Do Not Shut Up!

favorite type of drink: crystal pepsi

every fucking year i email the Bepsi company and ask when this god damn drink is coming back. last year? literally spent almost all of 2019 moving house, and i got no crystal pepsi anywhere in that time. now it’s 2020. there’s a plague. and the world is burning. and there’s still no fucking crystal pepsi. the moral of the story here is, as soon as pepsi brings back The Good Shit, everything can be nice again. i am .3 seconds away from breaking into pepsi HQ in the midst of this Rioting Chaos just to steal the Crystal Pepsi recipe from their fat stupid noses and start making it myself. I will market it as... Creestöl Bepsi.

oh wait im supposed to talk about the drink, right, shit’s good yo. you know how all clear sodas taste vaguely the same? they all taste like Clear Drink? this is like Clear Drink in it’s purest form. it is the Clearest Drink. with the most Clearest Drink taste. and thanks to it’s (formerly) limited annual runs at the end of summer it literally tastes like nostalgia. I have left the house like twice in the last three months but if they brought back crystal pepsi i would march out of my house like its on fire (wearing a mask of course) and buy every fucking bottle i could find, life savings be damned

so anyway yeah crystal pepsi’s good i guess

favorite art program: begrudgingly, photoshop

adobe may be a greedy bitch baby company who doesnt actually let you buy their software outright but damn,,, photoshop Nice,,, hehehehe,,, i can do so Much with it it’s such a multitool of a program,,, i just upgraded to the 2020 version in february and there’s SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO many more brushes than there were in the 2014 version, and most of them are actually really useful!! i’m living for this guy’s brushes, uh, kyle?? yeah, kyle t. webster. now THAT guy knows how to make some brushes. i’ve been using the same ones for like six years but he’s got this GORGEOUS lineart brush i’ve been using and dear god i love it too much to ever go back. I Will Never Go Back. AND I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT LIKE, BLEND BRUSHES?? there are ones that perfectly emulate real pencils thanks to how photoshop handles brushes, it even wears out and widens with use (you can choose how fast...) and you can TILT your STYLUS to USE THE BROADER SIDE OF THE “LEAD”??? LIKE?? A REAL PENCIL???? still blows my mind,, photoshop’s brush engine is fucking amazing,,

Thoughts on keeping a sketchbook?

sketchbooks are great and i envy people who have those really nice, blank-page sketchbooks with the little rounded corners on each page? and they always fill them with studies and life drawings,,, its so Aesthetic,,,

meanwhile im adamant for some damn reason to do most of my drawings on lined paper still. not the serious ones, but if im doodling, or just doing a sketch i intend to finish in photoshop? composition notebook. i have Dozens of Actual sketchbooks, but those are so nice... i don’t want to fill them with stupid meme drawings and things i wont finish and things i draw Badly and things that i Will finish but not There. i’m glad im not going to college cuz i always hear “oh you have to submit your sketchbooks” im like haha What cuz my sketchbooks,,,, are probably some of the most unprofessional, badly organized, unfinished messes out there,,, like i do studies but it’s all on lined notebook paper and half-destroyed composition notebooks because at the end of 8th grade everyone was throwing out their unused or slightly used school supplies and there was a WHOLE RECYCLING BIN FULL OF COMPOSITION NOTEBOOKS?? MOST OF WHICH ONLY HAD THE FIRST LIKE 15 PAGES FILLED OUT IF THAT???? SO I JUST KINDA. RAIDED IT?? i havent bought lined paper in 8 years and all the school supplies i looted out of the garbage that day carried me all the way through high school. i bought maybe one notebook in highschool, that was it. i think i literally trash picked a lifetime of lined paper,,,

,,, anyway i have a Nice Sketchbook (no lined paper!) ive been toting around since sophomore year of high school. it’s still got printouts taped to it from supernatural and doctor who and black rock shooter. this was seven years ago, i still use it when i want to use Nice Paper, and only now am i approaching the last pages. i also have a separate sketchbook i decided to start using for concept art and sketches for my webcomic i will never actually start working on! that one’s about as professional as i get, it’s full of robot designs and sketches of scenes. its fun.

i am not a real artist aslkdfkljdfskjldsfkjl

Thoughts on any pets you have?

i love me pets! they are not my pets they are my parents pets but i take care of them more so who cares. i love them. i love all three doggos even if Gigi is an old lazy fart that doesn’t care about anything that isn’t sleeping, food, going outside, or bellyrubs. she doesn’t even listen to you if you call her or tell her to do something. i dont know what her deal is. and gemma!! is a depressed muppet. she’s probably just getting old herself even though she’s only,,, seven. we got a third dog and she never got over it. she is still my favorite though, she’s adorable and i love her little under bite and her big goofy eyes that don’t have a single thought or braincell behind them. she floofy and snuggley and a big ol scardey cat who always comes into my room for hours when there’s a Loud Sound outside which is great because i cant sleep when something else is alive in my room and its not me but whatever i cant say no to her, especially now that we’re both on the same floor and i would probably take a bullet for this funky lil fuzzball.

speaking of the third dog that is kiwi i post more pictures of her than anyone else for some reason but she’s a cute lil goblin. i mean what is this thing. what is it!! im not even entirely convinced its a dog, i think its a weird lil alien that knows what a dog looks like and that’s it

what is this thing!! dont know!! she’s plotting though!! i have never seen Thoughts happening in a dogs head before but she Knowes Things. she learned how to slap the other dogs. 80% of the time if you point a phone at her she stops moving because she somehow understands the concept of a “Camera.” she’s a little chaos bagel. a chaos bagel with a critical case of The Zoomies and a burning hatred of feet

we also have a budgie named olive. he’s pretty, but quiet

[themiscyra1983]

The Elephant In The Room

Let me preface all this by saying I do not have time for assholes. If you come at me with insults and contempt, I will block you.

The other day on Twitter I said the Harry Potter books aren’t good. I said this to a friend but I guess some people just keep an eye out for whatever Harry Potter shit pops up on Twitter and/or the algorithm just likes to spit in people’s eyes because hoooo boy people saw and lost their minds. I blocked two people over it because they decided to be assholes, and had a somewhat terse conversation with someone who was more politely insistent before going, finally, “I’m glad you find joy in something I no longer care for” and putting an end to the conversation.

It’s no particular secret that I’m in the fandom, and prior to J.K. Rowling going full, ‘no plausible deniability here’ transphobe, I’d bought my share of official merch. Frankly I should have stopped that sooner, but it took getting figuratively slapped in the face multiple times before I finally admitted Rowling’s ignorance carried a distinct air of willfulness and malice. Anyway I still HAVE the stuff I bought before, the Ravenclaw crap, the wands I was collecting (no more of that, I fear, though I’d hoped to pick up Tonks and Ginny’s wands at least before I brought an end to it), the Ravenclaw goblet I was gifted from a friend who bought it before JKR passed the plausibly just clueless horizon. There is still much in the world that I love, but much of that love comes now from the creations of others, and I cannot in good conscience spend money in ways that directly benefit Rowling’s financial empire.

And the Harry Potter books are not, in my view, good books. I’ve felt that for a while now. I’ll go a step further: I think they’re dangerous stories to tell children; I think I would be uncomfortable reading them to any children I might have. They are not stories that should be viewed without a critical eye. I loved them as a teenager. I’ve grown more uncomfortable with them - and, as with Twilight, far more comfortable with how critically thinking fans have transformed the work - as time has passed.

This actually has very little to do with the fact that, well...Rowling is not the best writer. Listen. I’m a Power Rangers fan. I’ve watched every incarnation of Star Trek, and every single movie. I have no problem with trashy fiction. You will find me rooting around in the garbage with the finest raccoons. But that is part of it, yes; there are flaws in the craft of it, and I don’t feel that, inherently, we needn’t judge children’s fiction by adult standards. I would argue that the very BEST children’s fiction is also excellent by adult standards. But this is the least of my concerns.

Here are my actual concerns.

Rowling wants credit for declaring Dumbledore gay after the fact, for saying Hogwarts is a safe space for all students in ways not reinforced (and in fact actively contradicted) by the text, for cheering the fan-created same-sex marriage of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, but she doesn’t want to take the creative risks that go along with that. When she had the opportunity, with the Fantastic Beasts movies, to make that subtext text, she and her cronies outright declined it. At every opportunity she has shied away from actually putting her high-minded ideas to the page. This is a cowardly choice at best.

Further, Dumbledore’s only canonical love interest (and it is not clear whether the love was requited) was a pretty fascist with whom he fell in, politically, for a time. I get it, we’ve all had crushes on terrible people. But this is literally his one and only love, requited or not, and after he defeats Grindelwald he is left to pine away for the remainder of his days. The one gay love story in the books - if you tilt your head, and squint, and accept Rowling’s word for it - is a tragic one that leaves one man in prison and another celibate and alone and, increasingly, a manipulative bastard who upholds the status quo.

There’s nothing wrong with a tragic love story. I’ve enjoyed quite a few. But when this - THIS - is what you hold up as a triumph of representation, in the absence of ANYTHING else...no. No cookies for you.

Let’s also talk about how I don’t feel Rowling wrote Dumbledore or approaches him with a critical eye. There is NO excuse for leaving a child in an abusive home. No, fuck your blood wards. You’re telling me that Albus Dumbledore - ALBUS DUMBLEDORE - could not devise protections better than leaving Harry with abusive relatives who despised him and everything he stood for? Then, too, when Dumbledore did intervene in Harry’s life, he did so with full knowledge that he was setting Harry up to be a sacrificial lamb, AND WITH THIS SPECIFIC END IN MIND. None of this is acceptable. Dumbledore is a fucking manipulative, abusive bastard who uses people and throws them away, and the fact that it WORKED OUT for Harry does not absolve him of his crimes.

Moving on, and bear in mind I’m still getting my steam up on this whole rant: Seamus Finnegan. Seamus Finnegan is the one canonically, obviously Irish character in the books, named quite stereotypically, but more importantly, in the books and movies, is shown to be interested in (a) liquor and (b) making things explode. He’s REALLY GOOD at making things explode. Do I need to explain why it’s problematic for the one Irish character to blow things up all the time? He also does this in defense of UK wizardry’s status quo, so, you know, even if you were all IRISH FREEDOM FIGHTER YEAH, I assure you he is not that guy.

There is an entire species of sapient magical creatures who exist solely to serve witches and wizards. Hogwarts is run on slave labor and most of the finest wizard families hold slaves. But it’s all right! Only one of them has ever, in the context of the books, wished to be emancipated, and everyone else views Dobby as a weirdo for wishing to be free, and paid for his labor. Dobby, incidentally, later lays down his life for the wizarding savior who tricked his master into freeing him. The only other emancipated house elf we see in the books, Winky, spends her time in a state of drunken depression, rendering her useless and scarcely capable even of caring for herself. She wished to remain enslaved, do you see, and was helpless without the benevolent guidance of her master.

There’s fan work that has tried to address this by exploring a mystically symbiotic relationship between house elves and wizards and witches, and yes, yes, J.K. Rowling is drawing on European folklore here, but let’s not give her credit, okay?

Goblins. Goblins! Goblins have a long history of being antisemitic stereotypes to begin with (hence why I have seen multiple Jews on Tumblr push back HARD on ‘goblincore’), but J.K. Rowling just...right. They’re short, ugly, have hooked noses, generally look like antisemitic cartoon figures. They are locked out of power but control all the wizarding world’s banking, and do so in very usurious ways, for example charging wizards to hold their money, etc. Now this might be an interesting commentary on how Jews have historically been oppressed and forced into fields that goyim felt themselves too ‘pure’ to work in, were it not for the fact that Rowling’s fantasy Jews LITERALLY AREN’T HUMAN, and more, ARE ACTUALLY GREEDY, CONNIVING, AND WILLING TO BETRAY YOU AGAINST THEIR OWN SELF-INTEREST FOR PERSONAL GAIN. FUCKING GOBLINS, MAN.

Then there’s the travesty of Magic in North America, which disrespected the intelligence of Native Americans (none of them figured out you could point a stick at something to make the magic go until white people showed up to help, apparently, but don’t worry, they’re really CLOSE TO NATURE and GOOD AT NATURAL MAGIC), disrespected the beliefs of specific peoples (no, skinwalkers aren’t just misunderstood shapechanging wizards and witches smeared by the greedy and ignorant, you’re whitesplaining actual mythology to the people who hold it sacred), made the ONE wizarding school in America white with an appropriated Native veneer, and generally just...Did Not Get America. As bad as the UK Wizarding World is, Rowling demonstrated complete IGNORANCE regarding the long history of what we now call North America, ignorance of even modern American culture (there’s a reason why American fans particularly tend to ignore the idea that wizardry is locked down tight behind a wall of secrecy here), ignorance and disrespect toward Native populations, and an unwillingness to do the research necessary to do this shit right.

There’s more. There’s blood purity, and gender politics, and Severus Snape’s portrayal, and all kinds of shit that grates, and I’m just tired.

Writers make mistakes. it happens. But Rowling does not recognize her mistakes. She does not seek to make amends. She just barrels on with her shitty opinions, regardless of who she hurts.

it is at the point where I am no longer even willing to thank her for graciously allowing us to play in her sandbox. We don’t need her blessing; the OTW has done far more for fanfic than she has. And it is, indeed, beginning to grate on me that people constantly try to apply Harry Potter metaphors to real life and real politics. As my friend Doc often says, find another book.

I love butterbeer (or at least the knockoffs available outside the Universal parks), I still read fanfic sometimes, I still like to play with ideas like the Harry Potter movies as performed by Muppets, with Dan Radcliffe as Snape and Tom Felton as Lucius. I’m glad the movies brought us a generation of actors, mentored by performers like Alan Rickman and Maggie Smith and so many others, who have gone on to bigger and better things. Much of my merch is packed away, but I still hold on to some of it because it has new meaning for me in light of fanwork, or because (in the case of my Ravenclaw hat and scarf) it’s warm, winters here are cold, I don’t want to buy new shit, leave me alone.

I am accustomed to seeing fans turn trash into treasure. I’ve tried to do it myself. But I feel, quite strongly, that the original text in this case is trash. it is radioactive, stinky trash. You won’t persuade me otherwise, and I’m done apologizing for it. If Rowling wants me to respect her and her work again, she’ll have to earn it, but I’m very trans and she low-key hates my kind, so even if I weren’t a random reader I wouldn’t be holding my breath.

And I really, really need to emphasize to you all that it is okay if people don’t like a given work of fiction. It is okay if people HATE that piece of fiction. You don’t need to change the minds of everyone around you. You absolutely will not succeed in doing so. Please, I’m begging you, make peace with that - and please, I’m begging you, even if you like something, try to consider it critically.

[laketaj24]

Mended III

Author’s Note: Hey!! I apologize that it has taken forever to update this series, but I sincerely appreciate you patience!! Thank you @slimmiyagi for the motivation! It’s a been a little bit since I wrote Erik but I hope you enjoy!! Let me know what you think! Also I think some of my people are gone via Tumblr breakdown 2018 lol so my taglist is open!! I still accept Black Panther Request. I just don’t get too many these days.

Black Panther Masterlist

Warnings: Smut.

Mended I, Mended II

Collin: The states would look lovelier if I saw you.

You didn’t respond to the text message as you flipped the phone back over on the counter. It was one time, well three times. Three wonderful times you didn’t want Erik to know about, three times you had forgotten about yourself. The text messages from Collin started over a week ago. He was back in town from England and of course the first person he hit when he got back in town was you.

The fling between you two was short lived and by short you meant short. The blond haired, blue eyed terror was someone you used to forget Erik. He was the opposite of him. A spite fuck almost.

Your day was to frenzied for this anyhow. The twins were having a birthday party and every drop of your attention had been diverted to them. Everyone was expected over to your house in a matter of hours. And hardly any of the things in the list you had made were done. The food was started but the boys were still with N’jobu. But Erik didn’t seem to mind as he walked around the backyard working on the setup. The recent months had changed between you two. Things were no longer strained. There were no two separate homes. He sold that whore-pad on the North and moved back home.

You really couldn’t be happier, even if he had some control issues, you two were still working on. It was better than cheating.

“What are you burning?” Erik asked as he stepped behind you.

“Uh, excuse me?” You turned to him. The beard was growing back. You cheered silently at the small growth on his chin and put the spoon up to his lips. “I don’t burn shit. Thank you kindly.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” His full lips went over the spoon and his tongue swiped out over your finger. “The cook taste better.” He shrugged as he pinned you against the counter.

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have time to have sex with him. Y’all sessions tended to last for hours and you didn’t really have time for it. You push his hard chest away from your body, but you can feel him already strained against his sweats, eager and ready. “No sir, the chef isn’t on the menu.”

“She always on the menu.”

His hands explored as they always did down the side of your neck with ease. They danced leaving small tingles each place he touched. “The food can simmer for a while.”

It always started in the kitchen for you two. You shake your head and laugh. “Erik, give me some time to get this ready. Your aunt and cousin are coming! They are coming all the way from…” words evade you as you feel his tongue dance along the line of your neck and his lips latch on to your neck and suck. He knew things about you. Your spots. Your triggers. And that soft spot was a trigger.

“It won’t take long. You can have the time in the world.” And with that he flips you over pressing your stomach against the chilled counter. The hard smack to your ass sends a reverent sting through your body and you suck the air through your teeth savoring the feeling. It’s instincts as your arch your back and he admires the curve of the nape of your back. He rubs from nape to the cusp of your ass and then grips. “All daddy’s ass.” He brags as he administers another sharp blow to your ass. You hum with excitement as you feel the breeze of cold air when he lifts the dress over you. “You like that?”

“Yes.” You answer as he rubs your bare ass this time.

“Let’s see how much.” His arm snakes around your waist and even though you knew where it was headed you can’t help but to jump at the rush of pleasure you feel when his thick fingers intrude your slick folds, right to your clit. He starts with small circles. He presses applying the smallest amount of pressure and then adds more sending you writhing for him. “Calm yourself, I haven’t even started yet.”

That’s what worried you. You didn’t have time for the finessing today. You needed to nut and finish the damn food. You thrust yourself onto his fingers hoping to rush him along, but he stops you with a quick spin and his fingers on your chin. He drags a finger down your lips. You can taste the sweetness of yourself and you can feel yourself growing even more intrigued. “What you tryna do?”

“I gotta cook.”

“I said don’t worry about that shit.” He warned. “So, don’t worry about that shit.” He drops to his knees finding his way beneath your skirt. His tongue enters you and your hands are in his head missing those short dreads you used to use to anchor yourself you settle for the back of his head, coaxing him to give you more. He grips your thighs as he laps his tongue over your clit a few times and sucks causing your head back.

You’re not sure how you made it up the steps so fast, but you don’t care as Erik undoes his belt and wraps it around your wrists a few times and then tightens it. He drapes your arms over the bed post and looks down on you with excitement. “Ain’t no running up in here now.” He nestles himself between your legs and pins them to the bed. You were already soaking and wet for him and to be honest you didn’t even know if your body could take another one. His thick tip prods at your entrance and you buck you’re hips against him, urging him. “Greedy ass.” He says pushing you back down on the bed before snapping his hips to yours and filling you completely.

You pull at the restraints as you long to rake your fingers down the slope of his back. No matter how many times you two fucked he still fucked you like it was the first time, filling you to the hilt and then sliding back out of you. “Ah fuck ma. Still so fucking tight. You keep that tight for daddy don’t you.”

You couldn’t form words only shake your head while dragging your teeth over your bottom lip in pleasure. He slammed into you again, bottoming out and tapping your g-spot in one fucking stroke. Your legs start to writhe under him but his weight locks them beneath him, making you feel tighter around his veined dick.

“I wanna hear you answer me. What you quiet for?” he slaps your thighs and spreads your legs farther apart as his winds his hips to get deeper. “Answer me.”

“Yes daddy.” At this point you didn’t even know what you were agreeing to, you just knew that you about cum and lose every ounce of self-control you ever had.

“You about to cum ain’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Nah you ain’t.” He laughed as he slowed his strokes and the build up that had started stopped. “you can hold that shit.”

You scoffed making your body winds against his faster and he laughed. “You really trying me ain’t you. Hold it.” He slammed into you again and again. Your whole body started to numb and there was no way you would be able to hold it. Your walls gripped him, shuttering as he sped up and you tried to breathe through and then it happened. You came with a shiver down your spine that sent fireworks through your entire body.

Erik shook his head with a grin on his face as he started to find his own high, drilling into you over and over until he found his own climax shortly after.

Erik’s body glistened as he stood up in the afterglow of sex. Fuck he was sexy. Your body ached. The last thing you wanted to do was be a host. “You better get up and prepare to be Mrs. Stevens. Start with that head. It’s fucked up.” He teased.

“It was fine fucking earlier. Now I gotta rock a ponytail.” You rolled your eyes as you rolled out of bed. “Ain’t no telling how many calls I done missed. I bet Nakia and Ko are freaking out at Party supply. I sent them for some napkins but they’re like some fucking kids.”

“Man, you should have sent T’Challa. His ass gotta one track mind.” He stepped into the adjacent bathroom and started the shower water. “Get in the tub. I’ll check on the food and join you aight?”

“Look at you being Mr. Sweet.”

“I mean I just blew your back out, the least a nigga could do is get you clean.” He pecked your cheek and disappeared down the hall.

You liked that you were already naked. You stepped into the steaming water and washed up humming music under your breath. Everything was back to how it was before the shit was done. It was truly mended. Never had he been this sweet to you before, second chances worked sometimes. You douse the towel in the Dove body wash for the second towel and hear the door open. “I forgot to tell you that Ramona said that she was bringing games! She said she got shit from when you was younger.”

“Oh yeah for real?” You watch through the glass as he perches himself on the bathroom counter. “She was always good at them games.”

“I know, it why she said she was bringing them. You gotta play with the boys. They are gonna freak out.” You peak out noticing the pink phone in his hand. “What are you doing with my phone E?” You laugh. “Kia text?”

“Yeah her and yo’ boy Collin. Sound like a god damn colonizer”

The shower water was the only sound in the bathroom as you closed your eyes shaking your head. “Why are you going through my phone, I don’t go through yours.”

“Tell another motherfucking lie.”

“Did I text back! Put my shit down.” Your voice is clipped as you opened the door. You snatched the black towel from the rack.

“You fucked him?”

“A while back does it matter?”

“It matters because you fucking lied to me. Only you.” He mimicked your voice. “It’s only been you. You been up here fucking Carlton the Colonizer the whole god damn time! It does fucking matter. We said no god damn secrets.”

“It ain’t a secret.”

“It’s not any fucking more!” He yelled back at you. His voice echoed off the walls. “Y/N you really think it’s not a big deal? But let there be a fucking Becky in my phone you don’t know about and you would lose your shit!”

“Erik! What you want? You want me to apologize? I am sorry I fucked him. Are you happy?”

“Nah keep that shit.” He tossed your phone onto the counter.

“Erik!”

It was hard to go after him butt ass naked so you shuffled into your clothes and tried to make it down the steps but you didn’t make it in time. The silver car sped down the road and there you stood, freshly fucked and fucked up.

 The guest arrived one by one and you held it together. The fake smiles hid the fact that you were about to lose it. This was supposed to be the day that you and Erik were reunited as a couple in front of everyone you loved and Collin had royally fucked that up for you. You dialed his number a few times. Each time it rang a few times and the stupid ass voicemail came on:

It’s E. You know what to do.

Y/N: Erik people are coming and the boys will be back any minute. Can you please come back? Please?

You hang up the phone dialing the number again and this time it rattles on the receiver and he answers.

“E’s phone.” The female voice said. “What’s good?”

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