#literally all of us only cared about them

[consultingfujoshi]

having some barely formed thoughts about the three severed women we know of (excluding o&d) and how they're all sort of experiencing their own misogynist hellscape and how severance not only exacerbates the existing struggles of women but reduces those women down to nothing but their suffering

gabby's innie exists purely to gestate and give birth to children and then is switched off again and never gets to raise or even meet her child until her husband decides it's time for the next one. episode 7 suggests gabby is not the only woman who has done this to herself. how many female innies exist just to be a walking baby incubator?

gemma is quite literally in hell. dozens of versions of her are being subjected to physical or psychological torture at the hands of the same white guy, at least one of which is in an endless performance of housewifery, her body given over to the hands of strangers, and she has to willingly walk into each room knowing anything could be happening to her in there and she will never know what, only that her alternate selves have literally never known anything except suffering. you did it to yourself, you asked for this.

and even when she tries to free herself she is immediately sent back by one of these innies who literally does not know what is going on and why she's here, and doesn’t know enough to question what she's being told. these women she becomes do not have the tools, the knowledge or agency, to fight back. if you'd known better, you'd have stopped it. why didn't you stop it? why weren't you smarter about it? why weren't you more careful?

tell me you love me before you go, sweetheart

and helly. she's more complicated but there's really something to be said about helena, a woman that by all accounts should see her as a sister, and uses that very idea to propagandise herself and inflate her own status, but in reality does not even see helly as human - she is constantly at the mercy of a woman far more affluent and powerful than herself who feigns care for her to the masses whilst happily subjecting her to torture. and then without that support from another woman, without that sense of solidarity, she seeks refuge in the arms of a man who can somewhat understand what she's going through because that feels like her only option, to gain approval or social standing through a man, but even that is hollow and it is soured by the very woman she is at the mercy of competing with her for that same man. she has been forced to place all her bets on the love of a man, like that'll prove she's real and worth something, and even that she can't have for herself

severance is used in all of these cases as a means of further dehumanising, objectifying, and reducing women down to their base biological functions and forces them to subject themselves to the whims of men. all in totally unique ways but all very real experiences that women go through every day, crytallised by having it quite literally be all they exist for. severance as just another tool to exert violence upon women

[goatgoesmbe]

tw : sexual theme, stalking, 141 being a creep

A series : part 2 of Discord shenanigans

AO3

Word count: 2031

rated: E

Poly!141 x f!reader

The New Member

The server wasn’t meant for public in the first place.

It was just something quick Johnny made just to have a little corner to hang out when they were on leave.

They rarely used it at first, finding no reason to communicate outside of work, they were busy with their own life anyway.

That was, until Johnny started sending pictures of literally anything in his daily life. It started with scenery, dogs he saw during walks, and selfies. Soon enough, Simon joined in with his own blurry pictures, then Kyle’s award-worthy photography, and John who sent the most normal pictures of some nice views worth sharing.

Eventually, interacting through the server became so regular that they started using it when they got back on base too– They never talk about something confidential in it of course, they were still professionals after all.

The gaming session was Kyle’s idea (Well, actually it was Johnny but he couldn’t convince them to play among us), they started playing various FPS games before settling for the popular one.

Kyle played casually, Johnny played competitively (and sucked at it compared to the others), John played it rarely but was pretty decent at it, while Simon was effortlessly good at it (Which he was so smug about).

The members consisted of people they knew from their jobs, so imagine their surprise when there was a notification about a new member.

You.

They welcomed you in a friendly manner, showing no suspicion despite John telling Kyle to do a background check immediately. And oh do they like what they see.

Pretty thing that you are, messy hair, pouty lips, dark bags under your eyes that only made you look more adorable rather than off-putting, like a sleepy panda. You always wore comfortable clothes oversized shirts or hoodies on colder days while your legs were bare, sitting crosslegged in your gaming chair with a big plushie in your lap. Johnny wondered if you wore anything underneath which made them go silent. made them think.

Fuck.

It was illegal and immoral, but really– everything they had ever done was all of those things and more, so what’s a bit of hacking into the webcam of a bonnie thing like you? It was done for their own safety after all, keeping their secrets as members of a highly classified military task force. It was only normal for them to check for any individuals that got into their space. Just in case.

Sure, they could just drop it when they found out that you were just a harmless civilian, but they also learned that you were just a sweet thing.. they immediately took a liking to you, adored you, so of course they had to keep an eye on you because they wanted to make sure you were alright. Keeping a civilians safe was part of their job, right?

You live alone, which made sense as to why you have CCTVs around your place. Smart girl, looking after your security seriously. Adorable.

Was it creepy for them to have access to those CCTVs? They just cared about your safety is all, was it wrong?

Well, they didn’t really care if it was, they were in too deep already, addicted to watching you in your own world, from your pretty face looking adorable as you focused on the game you were playing, the chime of your giggle when Johnny sent something stupid, to the way those innocent eyes showed no suspicion when one of them slipped up.

“Not as bonnie as you ;)” Johnny sent one time.

“You don’t even know what i look like XD”

Fortunately, you were oblivious. But still, they need to be more careful in the future. Johnny had a limp the next day and his body was covered in marks that peeked from the t-shirt he wore. But from how he barely covered them and how he still had that smirk on his face, it looked like he would definitely do it again if it would have John sending Simon to punish him.

Watching you had become a group routine. When they weren’t in the same room, they just hopped on the hidden channel Johnny made just to ping each other whenever you were doing something that would pique their interest.

Kyle enjoyed watching you go about with your routine, waking up at noon, cooking up something simple for yourself before you lock into your PC to do your freelance job then hopped into video games. His favorite was when you did your skincare, hand went down to cup the bulge in his pants as he watched you putting on lotion all over your body. His eyes darkened at the thought of him doing it instead, sliding his hand up your legs, lathering them nicely, and perhaps sneaking an opportunity for a feel of your clothed pussy when he reached your inner thighs.

Johnny likes to watch your reaction whenever you two interact, relishing your flustered expression from his relentless flirting. He wondered if you would also be shy under him, squirming as you tried to hide your face while he took off your clothes. He would click his tongue as he pried your hands off your face and gripped both of your wrists in one hand before pinning them above your head, one knee lodged between your legs to prevent you from closing them.

John’s favorite part of your day was when you were working. Tongue peeking out slightly in concentration, your doe eyes shifted and looked sharper when you were focused. He was there when you were in an online meeting with your employer, even though noone noticed. As he watched you talk, he liked to imagine that you were working for him instead. Talking formally unlike how you usually were when you were talking to them, he imagined you calling him sir like how you called your current boss. The bastard that made you uncomfortable with the way he leered at you, making innuendos while you tried your best to keep the conversation professional. You poor thing, don’t worry, John will teach him a lesson or two about respecting you. And yes, he was a hypocrite since he was lazily pumping his shaft under the desk as he watched you doing your job.

Simon rarely said anything about it, but out of everyone in the server, he was a constant presence with how the view count never went below one. He wasn’t picky, he liked watching you doing anything, even when you were just sleeping, he’d fuck his fist messily at the view of you being so vulnerable and oblivious before shooting his cum all over the screen with your face displayed on it. He was the one who would ping the others to notify them when you were doing something he knew they would be interested in.

Like right now.

It had been a long week, you barely had time to do your hobby. Projects after project that got you awake until two am before a quick wink of rest until you had to wake up again at five. When you were looking forward to doing something fun but then finding yourself too tired to even play your favorite game. And then you’d feel bad for neglecting your hobby as you continued to be enslaved under capitalism.

You were tired, sleep-deprived, stressed, and pent-up. At times like this, you were glad that you worked from home. You couldn’t imagine yourself not snapping at people if you work in an office with coworkers. Couldn’t even find the energy to open the server these past few days since you didn’t want to interact with anyone.

So naturally, they would miss you. Naturally, they were very excited when Simon pinged all of them in the hidden channel.

The light in your room was dimmed, but they could see your figure just fine. Panting on the bed on your back, legs spread wide with your hand between them while your other hand was clutching a pillow which you use to hide your face. 

John growled, fingers twitching as he thought of taking it off you so he could see what kind of expression you were making. Instead, he gripped Kyle’s dick as the younger man rolled his hips with the Captain bottoming out in his ass as they were both settled on the couch.

Johnny pulled away from Simon’s cock with a lewd pop. “She could fit mair than that..” he panted before Simon shoved his dick back in the scot’s mouth, gloved hand gripping at his mohawk.

His words got them zeroed in on your cunt which was stuffed with your fingers deep to your knuckles. Wet squelching noises combined with your needy whines echoed around the rec room from the cheap speakers as the stream was displayed on the wall from the projector. Johnny was right, you could take more than that. And from the way you desperately bucked your hips as you moved your fingers that fast, they could tell that you wanted to take more either.

“Does she not have a fucking toy?” Kyle groaned as he jacked off with the same tempo as your fingers as he continued to move in John’s lap.

“No” Simon responded curtly. He would know, he was the one who always kept an eye on you more than anyone else after all.

He knew you didn’t have a partner and never brought anyone home. You rarely go out and when you do, you’ll be back soon enough. A quick trip to the grocery stores or some shops, as shown by the trackers he put in your phone. Low possibility of you seeking out to anyone. Perhaps it was odd for some people but he wasn’t complaining, because he was only willing to share you with the men he trusted his life with.

You rarely pleasure yourself either, which made a moment like this more special. At first, he expected you to whimper out someone’s name, a crush they didn’t know about perhaps. Fortunately, that never happened. You seem content with yourself like this, eyes closed as you focus on the way you curl your fingers and grind your palm against your clit.

But they could tell you wanted more. They agreed that you deserved more. They could give you more.

Your whole body tensed, a shudder rippled through your body as heat built in waves. Breath hitching as you gasped, soft at first before breaking into a moan, raw and unrestrained. Fingers clutching at your pillow, muscles tightening as pleasure peaked, your back arching instinctively.

A flush spread across your skin, a sheen of sweat caught the light. Eyes fluttered to a close, lips parted, as a final tremor coursed through your body before you melted into the afterglow, breathless and trembling.

Yet, your cunt still clenched around your fingers as you pulled them out, like it didn’t want to let them go, because you still wanted more. You whined, and they groaned at the expression on your face. Unsatisfied, but too tired to do anything about it.

After a moment of gathering your jumbled mind, you got up and headed to the bathroom for a shower. And while they knew it was impossible, they wished you had a camera there too.

As the men chased their own pleasures, they thought to themselves about how they could help. You were physically nowhere near them at the moment, and they didn’t want to scare you by being too upfront in the server. Didn’t want you to know what they had been doing behind your back.

The next day, an onslaught of sex toy ads kept popping up when you turned on your PC. It obviously pissed you off at first (especially with how one appeared when you share your screen during a work meeting), but eventually it made you consider getting one. And if you got a transfer to your bank account in the same amount you spent on it right after, if you received four dildos instead of one, they totally had nothing to do with it. Nope, they totally didn’t send you the exact copies of their cocks.

Next (soon)

A/N: I remember someone saying 'How are you gonna get a guy if you never leave your house' and this is my answer to that also, this series was supposed to be fun silly online friends story, so idk what happened here, I swear the story wrote itself I had nothing to do with it

open taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @sweetlike-sugarplum, @mordacioust, @boogeysmoth, @little-mini-me-world, @sxnshinebxcky, @lady-red-night-1234, @theycallmevalen

[ds-angel1]

dealer!rafe x brainwashed!reader

cw: mention of SMUT(18+), drugs and pills, rafe lowkey runs her life (and i need that(so so bad))

a/n: drabble that i literally got from a dream (if anyone has done something like this before and i´ve just forgotten, credits to them(can never trust my dreams))

Dealer!Rafe didn’t meant to keep you. Not at first at least.

The first time he saw you, it was supposed to be nothing. Another night, another party, another girl too pretty for her good. Your denim shorts rode too high on your thighs, a spaghetti strap slipping from your shoulder like an invitation, and you looked at him like you knew exactly what you were doing. Like you had the slightest clue.

You didn’t.

He figured you’d be an easy score, a quick sell, a quicker fuck, someone to forget by morning. But then you pushed through the crowd, all honeyed laughter and half-lidded eyes, and asked him what he had. Not shy, not hesitant, but like you belonged in this world like you’d done this before.

Like you already belonged to him.

He should’ve known then. Should’ve clocked the way his pulse jumped when your fingers brushed his palm, the way his breath caught when you bit your lip, pupils already blown wide. But it wasn’t until you tossed back the pills without a second thought, no caution, no questions, that he realized what you were. Perfect.

It was a game. A pretty girl with a reckless streak, someone eager and pliant beneath him, high off whatever he fed you. But then he started learning things. About the mess you called home, the way you barely scraped by. How you were always searching, always aching for something just out of reach.

That’s when the idea took root.

Rafe could take care of you. Fix you. Own you.

So he reeled you in, slow and deliberate. He made sure you only bought from him, made sure the come-downs hit just hard enough that you came back, eyes wide and desperate. And when you started spending more time in his bed than your own, when your things started showing up at his place, one shirt, then a toothbrush, then a drawer full of clothes, you never even realized it was happening.

Until it was too late.

Until you needed him.

The day you moved in, there was no discussion, no formal agreement. Just a slow suffocation disguised as safety. He watched as you set your bags down, as your fate sealed itself with the quiet click of the door shutting behind you.

That’s when the rules became clear.

"Act up, and you get nothing," he told you, voice smooth, patient. Like he was doing you a favor. "No, ‘m serious, baby. You wanna misbehave? Then no blow. No pills. Nothin’."

And it worked.

Because when you were good, when you melted for him, hazy and pliant, when your lips parted on soft, gasping pleas when you stared up at him so far gone you barely remembered your name. Letting him do whatever his sick mind desired.

He controlled everything about you. Well he called it “takin’ care of my sweet girl.” He chose what you ate, what you wore, where you went. His own little doll.

He’d won. You were his and followed his every order, and he fucking loved it. He could turn you into a pliant free use puddle with only a few pills and puffs of whatever shit he was smoking, letting him fuck you so hard you were either almost sober or almost seizing.

Sure, your quality of life had declined rapidly since you’d met your so called “savour”, but you had structure and you had “love”. A sick, twisted, manipulative version of it, but when you were high off your mind and half naked in his bed you were able to convince yourself it was love.

[mattscoquette]

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

right, so, as someone in an advanced lit class, I can not stop analyzing the fuck out of WOF characters.

especially mother fucking SUNNY.

what does she represent?

UNITY AND POWER

Let me explain. Sunny is quite literally the first ever hybrid in the books. She's written as an outcast, even in her own group, because the others veiw her as weak and incapable. Despite this, she has the ability to subtly push her friends in the right direction, frustratingly though she had to go through others. unwillingly, she is made to be reliant on others.

this is what makes her book so immensely interesting to me. Despite being seen as weak and defenseless, she does what No one else has the (metaphorical) balls to do.

She walks into what is basically the mob to ask strangers for mercy and help, offers to help said murder strangers with an immediate issue (dragonbite viper), then when threatened by a much older dragon who's using basically a 10 year old as leverage she goes with them willingly, instructing the ONE AND ONLY WITNESS to say nothing at all. THEN she survives using nothing but her wit in what has to be the most dangerous dragons lair and then escape with very little aid.

THEN she had the courage to fave said dragon again.

That's POWER. the ability to push through struggles and become loud.

what about unity?

her mother and the outclaws united to find her, she started JMA, she was the first to speak up about a lot of issues, she stepped forward to take care of Aukelts egg without hesitation. She not only physically represents unity through being a hybrid but also through her actions.

Anyway I'm writing an essay on Freedom and Cottonmouth.

k bye

OH also the outclaws are just a bunch of punks SUE ME.

.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan idea: him being married and starting a family with his wife 😍

OMG UGH The way I'm so in love with that man

I actually have two fics related to this in my drafts! One is reading finding out she's pregnant, the other is just a peak into family life with reader and logan. it's gonna be teeth rotting fluff. I hope you'll enjoy them <3

implications of sex below the cut, also pregnancy mentions!

Marriage with Logan:

I mean not to be cheesy but...

it's bliss

you all saw him in origins with kayla (gag)

that man is a total lover boy

hes on his knees for you

he will do anything for you

He didn't think he'd get to do something like this. to experience the whole joy of getting engaged, planning a wedding, getting married

just finding his other half....He considers himself the luckiest man in the world

He takes on the role of a hubby proudly

He'll laugh and pretend the wifey and hubby mugs you got him were cliche but he uses the hubby mug every single day proudly and ignores any comments regarding it

He'll proudly introduce you as his wife (or hubby, or partner, whichever term you prefer!)

everyone sees how so in love you both are

holding hands, your arms around each other

he'll admire the ring he put on your finger all the time.

"this is a nice look for you baby"

if you going through with having a wedding wedding, logan is going to be so damn nervous

he fights all sorts of bad guys. standing in front of family and friends, being vulnerable? thats a different kind of fight

but he finds when he sees you, all prettied up walking down that aisle

well, maybe this isn't so bad

but if you end up having a something small and simple, hes just as happy

either way, he's grinning ear to ear by your side. no ones seen the wolverine happier than when he married you

theres a comfort that settles between you both after marriage. a trust that the other is going to be there. you don't have to worry about a thing with him.

If you're getting or already have your own place, your engagement/marriage kicks off nesting in him. Hes' gotta make sure that his baby is taken care of...

Speaking of babies...

Starting a family!

Oh boy

or girl?

However the conception happens, planned or accident

logan will be thrilled (after he gets over the nerves)

he'll be so supportive to you. he may take a moment and go vomit out in the bins outside but he's happy, truly

hes so supportive

i mean i talked about pregnancy headcanons before but imma go into it again

he hates seeing his love in pain, suffering, etc etc. will hold your hand the entire way.

Hold your hair back during those morning sickness events uggh

will make you tea, slice apples, whatever the hell helps you

will rub your back, feet, shoulders. whatever

he thinks your mood swings are adorable (he won't say that to your face though. he knows you'll just tear him apart)

very handsy. can't help it. you looked good pregnant w his kid

every doctor appointment. hes there.

hes strong for you, god knows you're doing the heavy lifting but he's definitely going to be anxious. worried about every little groan and huff you let out. worried about labor. your safety. the babys safety.

hes so happy to be here but he's also terrified of losing it

yes, if you wake him up at 2 in the morning, he'll go get you those weird things you're craving. he'll do it happily. no you're not bothering him.

loves when you get a burst of hormones and become feral over him. he literally wants to bang you all the time but you're pregnant and not in the mood usually

you give him small kisses at first that end up getting intense and becoming more bc you're both just so happy and your hormones is making everything so intense and he's the only thing you want and need

anyhoo...

When you're big, big, like 8-9 months. He's all over you. You could bite his head off over his clingyness but the most he's gonna do is sit across the room with his tail between his legs

his instinct screams to stay close and to protect. he's not going anywhere

designing the babies room together

SHOPPING

bad bad wolverine is holding up lil jammies with sheep on it. "This is cute" he mumbles.

you can't even bring yourself to tease him over it because he's so damn cute like this. also hes' right. those are cute jammies. put em in the cart

Logan really doesn't care about the babys sex. he's just happy to even.. have all of this. and with you.

he'd be a great boy or girl dad honestly.

they're both gonna have him wrapped around their finger

you buy a plush wolverine animal for the babys crib and logan gets emotional over it

"yknow sweetheart these things are pretty mean in real life." he says as he holds back tears. "don't know if we should..."

he's gonna go into slight shock when they baby comes. like. woah, this is happening? really? actually happening?

Of course when you start reacting to your contractions, hubby mode is going to kick in. He's all over you, talking you through everything as you go the hospital

hes scared, terrified, but hes not gonna worry about himself when you need him more than ever

WILL cry when he meets yalls baby for the first time.

Going to feel like he'd been waiting his whole life to meet them.

He's going to be an amazing dad. hes got all sorts of life experience to share with them

your kid(s) will adore their dad (and you!)

they may have their teenage phase where everyone annoys them

but Logan having memories of how his family/parents were broken apart. he doesn't want that to happen

no ones a perfect person/partner/parent. logan tries pretty damn hard

movie nights

waking up to the kids running into yalls bed

him literally trying to steal ONE private moment with you, but your child is in a "i only want this parent phase!" for one of you and won't leave you alone.

your kid(s) gagging whenever you kiss or get affectionate. it happens often.

"mom and dad are really gross"

Im gonna add adoption in here too

he's gonna be really nervous because he doesn't want to scare whoever you adopt with his mutation, and just his general self. hes big and scary.

but you meet the child you two are meant to raise and he's in love

he adores the kid just as if it was his biological because to him it doesn't matter

thats you and hims child and he's going to do his damn best to take care of you and any child you may raise together

I just love him and I want me and him to build a lil life together on a farm or a cabin and have little ones that look like him running around and just *sobs*

[tetragonia]

A True Love's Kiss

Itadori Yuji x Megumi Fushiguro x Nobara Kugisaki x GN!Reader

summary: The first-years—meaning you, Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi—were in deep trouble because a mission had gone wrong. Gojo had told you to exorcise a Grade 2 curse just outside town, but it didn’t end well. The cursed spirit was exorcised, yes, but before it vanished, it left behind one last curse—a curse that could only be broken by a true love’s kiss. Now, the four of you were contemplating how to break it.

notes: uhhh this is just a silly idea lol. also you're welcome to check another silly fic of mine! here -> JJK fic @ AO3!! enjoy!

words: 2.3k

The mission was supposed to be simple. A grade 2 cursed spirit lurking in an abandoned park—nothing they couldn’t handle. They had faced far worse. So when Megumi, Nobara, Yuji, and you cornered the thing near the rusted remains of a jungle gym, they thought it was over.

Then it cursed them.

"What the hell did it just do?" Nobara asked, rubbing her temples. The spirit had let out this ghastly, wailing screech, and suddenly, an invisible force had passed through them like a gust of wind. The air shimmered, reality bending for just a moment—and then everything felt wrong.

Megumi was the first to feel it.

"Shit," he hissed, clutching his head. His body felt heavy, like he was being dragged down by unseen chains. His limbs were sluggish, his vision slightly blurred.

Yuji groaned, stretching his arms, "Ugh. Why do I feel like I just pulled an all-nighter and got hit by a truck?"

You blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the odd, sinking sensation, "I feel like I’m about to pass out."

"Great. We’re cursed," Nobara, ever the practical one, clicked her tongue. She sighed as she walked away, but she was yanked back. The veil wasn’t lifted yet, but she couldn’t step farther.

“What the hell?” Yuji frowned, as he tried to walk away. But he ended up just like Nobara, it was like there was a giant transparent wall surrounding them.

The spirit laughed, its grotesque mouth curling into a smirk as it started to fade away.

“People can come… but they may not go…” its voice was disgustingly teasing.

“Oh, come on!” you frowned, looking at the spirit’s half-transparent body.

“True love’s kiss… breaks the spell…” it rasped mockingly, before disappearing completely.

Silence.

Dead silence.

You all stood frozen, the cursed spirit’s words settling in like an earthquake cracking through their collective sanity.

Then—

"I’m sorry, WHAT?" Nobara shrieked.

"Did it just say—" Yuji coughed, couldn't believe what he heard.

"Nope. Nope. I refuse," Megumi immediately rejected whatever was about to be suggested.

"You can’t reject it, Megumi, we’re literally cursed!" Nobara snapped.

"True love’s kiss?" you repeated, staring up at the sky like you were having a crisis. "You mean like… fairy tales?"

Yuji, looking both horrified and oddly amused, hesitated, "So… one of us has to… kiss someone?"

Megumi closed his eyes, "I hate this."

"We all hate this!" Nobara shouted. "But if that thing wasn’t lying, then we’re stuck like this until someone kisses their so-called ‘true love’!"

You blinked. Then you squinted.

"Wait. How does it even know what ‘true love’ is?"

"That’s actually a good question," Yuji raised a finger.

"I don’t care! I feel like my soul is rotting inside my body, so someone better start smooching!" Nobara groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

Megumi, in full maximum suffering mode, looked like he was debating whether to just let the curse kill him.

"Absolutely not."

Yuji scratched the back of his head. "Okay, okay, let’s just—hypothetically speaking!—figure this out logically."

"There is no logical way to figure this out!" Megumi snapped.

"Sure there is!" Yuji insisted. "Like… okay, who here has a crush on someone?"

Silence.

Megumi’s eye twitched. Nobara crossed her arms, looking at the others expectantly. You just blinked at Yuji like he was insane. Yuji sighed.

"Okay, fine. Let’s just try kissing someone at random."

"Do you hear yourself?" Megumi asked, voice flat with horror.

You, ever the agent of chaos, suddenly smirked, "Alright, Fushiguro, pucker up."

Megumi stared at you like you had just committed a war crime.

Nobara cackled, grinning wickedly, "Ohhh, yeah, Fushiguro! If it works, then—"

"Over my dead body!" Megumi immediately shut it down.

Yuji, bless his soul, was actually considering it.

"I mean, (Y/N), have you guys ever—"

"Shut up, Itadori!" Megumi barked, palms slamming the table. You snorted.

"Wow, so aggressive. If you keep glaring at me like that, I might actually fall in love."

Megumi looked like he was about to throw himself into traffic.

"Okay!" Nobara interrupted, clapping her hands. "Let’s just get this over with! I’m not sitting here feeling like my soul is corroding. If none of us are romantically interested in each other, then we just gotta go for it."

You exhaled, "I hate that I agree.

Yuji nodded, reluctant but determined, "Alright. Let’s try."

They all looked at each other. Then they realized something.

"Wait," you said, squinting. "There are four of us. What if this curse is, like, super specific and only works for one pair?"

A pause. A horrible pause.

Then Nobara paled, "Oh my god. What if we have to do trial and error?"

Megumi made a sound that was either a groan or the death rattle of his last brain cell. Yuji exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples.

"Okay, okay, we just gotta get this over with. It’s not a big deal, right?"

"It is absolutely a big deal," Megumi’s jaw tightened.

You stretched your arms lazily, "We could just let the curse kill us. Sounds easier than dealing with this."

"Nope!" Nobara shot down that idea immediately, jabbing a finger at your chest. "No one is dying because you’re all too emotionally constipated to kiss someone!"

"Why are we even debating this? It’s simple. If true love’s kiss is the requirement, then it’s already impossible,” Megumi ran a hand down his face.

"Why?" Yuji frowned. Megumi gave him a look.

"Because that means someone here has to be in love with someone else here. And that’s—"

A terrible silence. You blinked, then smirked, "Fushiguro, do you have something to confess?"

Megumi's eye twitched violently, "I swear to—"

"Enough," Nobara clapped her hands. "We’re gonna be scientific about this."

Yuji raised a brow and tilted his head, he looked like a lost puppy, "Scientific?"

Nobara ignored him, rolling up her sleeves.

"We’re going to test every possible combination. First up—Yuji, (Y/N), kiss."

You and Yuji froze.

"Wait, wait, why are we first?!" Yuji panicked.

"Because you’re both dumbasses, and dumbasses should get it over with quickly!"

"That doesn’t even make sense!"

You, still smirking, shrugged, "Alright, alright, let’s get this over with, Itadori. Don’t fall in love with me."

"I—I—don’t phrase it like that!" Yuji made a horrible strangled noise. Nobara grabbed Yuji by the back of his jacket and practically shoved him forward.

"Just do it, I want to go home."

"I—I CAN’T JUST—(Y/N), HELP—" Yuji sputtered.

You, not one to back down from a challenge, grabbed Yuji’s face with both hands, "Shhh, just close your eyes, darling."

"WHAT THE HELL, (Y/N)—"

And then you pecked him right on the lips. The room held its breath. A beat passed.

Two.

Three.

Nothing happened.

Yuji slowly opened one eye, blushing like an idiot, "Did it work?"

"Nope," you popped your lips. "That was a waste."

Yuji, still dazed, touched his mouth, "Huh. That was my first kiss."

"This is the worst mission I’ve ever been on," Megumi groaned into his hands.

"Alright, next pair!"Nobara sighed.

"Oh, let’s do Fushiguro and Itadori next,” you perked up. Megumi snapped his head up.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT."

"I second that!" Yuji held up his hands.

"Cowards,” you shrugged.

Megumi glared daggers, "(Y/N), why are you enjoying this?"

"Because this is the dumbest thing we’ve ever had to do, and I live for chaos."

Yuji wiped his mouth, still recovering, "Can we at least try people who might actually work? Like, Fushiguro, you and Kugisaki—"

Nobara gagged, "I’d rather fight Sukuna one-on-one."

"What the hell?!" Megumi looked genuinely offended.

"Not my fault you have the romantic appeal of a cactus."

"Then you and (Y/N) can go next,” Megumi looked ready to commit murder.

You and Nobara made eye contact. You nodded, "Sure, why not?"

Nobara shrugged, "Whatever."

Yuji’s jaw dropped, "Wait, why are you two so chill about it?!"

Nobara rolled her eyes.

"Because we’re not insecure little boys, Itadori. Pucker up, (Y/N)."

"Try not to fall for me," you smirked. And just like that, you kissed Nobara, and she kissed you back.

A pause.

Nothing happened.

Nobara clicked her tongue.

"Lame."

"Wow, no true love between us? I’m heartbroken,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh, come on. This is stupid,” Nobara huffed as she turned to Yuji. “Oi. Let’s get this over with.”

“Huh?” Yuji blinked.

“You. Me. Let’s kiss.”

“Ooooh,” you whistled at her firm and commanding voice. Megumi rolled his eyes.

“Can we just hurry up and break this already?”

“Uh, alright. But if this doesn’t work, you owe me ten onigiri,” Yuji, still processing, scratched the back of his head.

“You really think this is a fair bet?” Nobara narrowed her eyes.

“Hey, food is food!” Yuji just shrugged.

Nobara sighed sharply, grabbed his collar, and kissed him. A beat of silence. Everyone stared.

The curse did not break.

Yuji pulled back, smacking his lips together, “Huh.”

Nobara frowned, eyes darting around her own body like she expected something to change, “Seriously?”

You snorted, “Damn, Kugisaki. Guess you’re not Itadori’s true love.”

“Gross. That was a waste of time,” Nobara wiped her lips on her sleeve.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘gross’? I brushed my teeth today!” Yuji looked genuinely offended.

“Oh, congrats. You’re so hygienic.”

"More hygienic than you—”

Megumi groaned, “We don’t have time for this. Just go down the list already.”

“Man, you make it sound like we’re checking homework,” Yuji shuddered. "Alright, Fushiguro, pucker up."

Yuji cracked his knuckles, stepping forward. Megumi's entire soul left his body.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, we don’t have all day," Yuji pointed at himself. "I'm true. I got love. So let's do this, man."

Megumi took an instinctive step back, "I think I'd rather die."

"Wow. Wow. That is so messed up," Yuji gasped, looking genuinely offended.

"It's not that I—" Megumi massaged his temples. "I just—maybe I should kiss (Y/N) first.”

The moment he said it, he knew he had made a mistake. Yuji froze. Then, very slowly, his eye twitched.

"You wanna kiss (Y/N) first?" he repeated.

Megumi winced, "I just meant—"

"OH, I SEE HOW IT IS."

Yuji grabbed Megumi’s collar, yanking him forward, "So you'd rather have your first kiss with (Y/N) than me? Your best buddy?"

Megumi sputtered, "Why are you making this about you?!"

"BECAUSE I AM OFFENDED!" Yuji yelled, shaking him. "We've been through so much together! And you'd rather kiss (Y/N)?! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!"

"That’s not—" Megumi tried to pry Yuji’s hands off, but Yuji had freakish strength. "I just—logically—"

"LOGICALLY, YOU SHOULD JUST LET ME KISS YOU!"

"THAT'S NOT LOGIC, ITADORI, THAT'S JUST YOU WANTING TO KISS ME—"

"AND WHAT IF I DO?! WHAT THEN?!"

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?"

Meanwhile, you and Nobara were wheezing. Nobara had collapsed onto your shoulder, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Oh my god," Nobara gasped, gripping your sleeve. "This is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

You grinned at the view, eyes gleaming. "Do you think if I say ‘just kiss already,’ they’ll actually do it?"

"Try it."

"Hey, ItaFushi," you called, grinning. "Just kiss already."

"SHUT UP!"

"NOT HELPING!"

Megumi, still half-dangling from Yuji’s grip, groaned, "This is stupid. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been a part of."

"We both know that’s not true,” Yuji snorted.

"Fair," Megumi looked neutral for a second, but he continued fuming. “But can we wait for help?!”

He wasn’t the one to call for help, he was always the one helping. But this whole situation? Nope.

Yuji, deep in thought, snapped his fingers, "What if we call Gojo?"

Megumi turned to Yuji so fast his neck nearly snapped.

"WHAT?!"

"Oh my god, imagine if Gojo was Megumi’s true love!” you cackled.

Nobara wiped away a tear, "We’d never let him live it down."

Yuji, very serious, pulled out his phone, "Okay, I’m calling him."

Megumi grabbed Yuji’s wrist in a death grip.

"Itadori. I swear. If you call him, I will summon my shikigami and make them maul you."

Yuji gulped.

"Okay. Okay. No Gojo. Got it."

“No me?”

A voice chimed in as its owner walked innocently through the transparent wall. Gojo squatted down, grinning, "What the hell happened to you guys? Why does it took so long?"

Four pair of eyes widened, three from shocks and one from an instant death.

Megumi sighed as he just signed a contract to his own death, "Curse. Wouldn’t break. Stupid condition."

"Huh? What kind of curse?" Gojo raised a brow.

"True love’s kiss."

Gojo froze hearing Yuji’s answer. And then he grinned.

"Oh?" he said, far too delighted. "And? Did you figure it out?"

Nobara grumbled something obscene. You just snorted. Gojo chuckled hearing all the responses, "So that’s a no, huh?"

Then, without missing a beat, he reached out—and kissed Megumi’s forehead.

A soft glow flickered over Megumi’s body, and passed through Yuji, Nobara, you, and eventually the transparent wall surrounding them.

And just like that—the curse lifted.

Silence.

Utter, complete silence.

Yuji slowly lifted his head. Nobara looked up so fast her neck nearly snapped. You blinked blearily at the scene.

Megumi sat there, completely frozen.

Gojo, still grinning, gave him a light pat on the head, "See? Was that so hard?"

"Holy shit," you covered your mouth with your hand.

"It was Gojo-sensei?!" Yuji looked horrified. "All along?"

"YOU MEAN WE WENT THROUGH ALL THAT FOR NOTHING?!" Nobara screeched.

Megumi looked like he was experiencing all seven stages of grief at once while Gojo stood up casually, stretching.

"Man, this brings back memories! I used to do that to you all the time when you were little, Megumi."

Megumi finally snapped out of it, "DON’T SAY THAT."

You, grinning like an idiot, leaned on Megumi’s shoulder as you whispered to his ear, "Fushiguro… is Gojo your true love?"

Megumi shoved you off, "I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU."

"I hate everything,” Yuji just lay back down

Gojo, absolutely thriving, clapped his hands.

"Alright, now that that’s settled—who wants pancakes?"

Megumi wished the ground would swallow him whole.

[teslasucks37]

can u write size kink/size difference with charlie where hes literally just sooo much bigger than reader :33

CW: NSFW under the cut (MDNI), afab!Reader (No pronouns), Short!Reader, Dom!Charlie, Horny!Reader, PainfullyBig!Charlie

A/N: This took way longer than anticipated so sorry 😭😭😭

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Size Kink Hcs!!!

You’d been teased for you height your whole life.

Being 5 foot was not for the week.

Charlie was the only one who didn’t immediately point it out when you’d first met.

But sometimes you can feel his eyes on you, or when he’s standing super close you can feel his presence behind you.

You head barely reaches up to his chin.

He’s nearly an entire foot taller than you.

Like most people he has to look down when he talks to you, but it’s different when it’s him.

His smile is so kind, so caring.

He’s like a gentle giant to you.

You wanna climb him like a fucking tree.

He put his hand on your shoulder one time and you had to try not to moan at how large it was, covering practically your entire shoulder blade.

How dare he be so hot?

With his huge shoulders and ginormous arms…

It just wasn’t fair.

He’d never really given it much thought, the height of people, but ever since he met you, it was the only thing he could think about.

How small you were compared to him.

How easy it would be to toss you around.

One time for a video he did end up tossing you around.

You were fucking soaked after that shoot, and anyone with eyes could see his boner.

So you went up to him after, asking if he wanted to hang out at your place later.

That, of course, leads to the two of you fucking.

“Oh my goddd!” You cry out as he sinks inside you.

He’s so fucking big, the stretch is almost painful.

Charlie struggles to keep his composure, not wanting to hurt you, but needing so badly to pound you.

He manages to hold the line, waiting until you’re wiggling against him, begging him to move.

Then he fucks you.

He fucks you good.

Charlie’s speed is cruel, wild, ravishing, but there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop him.

He’s just too big.

“Char- lieee- Ooohh- hoooh~” You whimper, your voice being cut in half by his thrusts.

His grip shifts to your thighs, pressing them into your chest and folding you in half.

He was through being gentle.

And you definitely weren’t complaining.

His angle made him go deeper inside you, his tip practically punching your cervix with every plunge.

He can’t talk, he can’t even think.

All that’s in his mind is how good your tight walls feel around him.

And how you’re practically screaming his name.

Your joints burn at the strength his big fucking muscular arms are exerting on your legs, stretching them beyond their usual function.

His body leaning over you, encompassing you entirely, makes your head spin and your pussy clench.

All that matters is how deep he is inside you.

His hips slap against your thighs, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

His pelvis bumps against your clit, making you squirm and wiggle.

Then suddenly his grip moves from your thighs to your hips, stopping your movement entirely.

“Stop wiggling.” He grunts out, too lost in pleasure to say it nicely.

Then he uses that grip on your hips to pull you into him, hard and fast and deep.

And that makes you lose it.

“Oh! Charlie~ Cumming- Cumming~ Fuckkk!” You pant out as you squirt around his cock, the pressure actually pushing him out of your pussy.

He chuckles darkly, bringing his cock to rest on your stomach as the final squeezes of your orgasm drip out.

Glancing down, you see his cock, large and wet and throbbing.

You hadn’t noticed it before.

Just how big his cock was.

You didn’t really have the time.

But fuck, that was inside you?”

It was almost as wide as your wrists…

It nearly reached up to your belly button.

Fuck, you would be so destroyed tomorrow.

But you didn’t even care.

Charlie would take care of you.

He was nice like that.

But he isn’t being so nice now as he slips back inside you without warning,

“Oh, fuck yeah~” He groans, setting his brutal pace once again.

He hits that same sweet spot inside you that no one had ever reached before, and you struggle not to cum again.

Moans are practically being pushed out of your lungs by his cock.

Seeing his cock slam in and out of you is probably one of the highlights of his life.

He can feel how he was stretching you, reaching so deep that he physically couldn’t go past a certain point.

Knowing that he completely fills you up floods his senses with pride.

He wants to fill you up for real.

His desperation increases in his thrusts, you can see it on his face too.

Charlie’s brows are scrunched in concentration.

“Cum, Char~” You whimper out, gripping at his large arms.

A grin takes over his face as he plunges inside of you, deep as he can, making you yelp.

He groans out in relief, finally cumming inside that tight pussy.

What he’s been dreaming of doing for practically months.

His hips stutter, twitching as his cock empties itself inside you.

You can see it bulging slightly out of your stomach.

You feverishly press your fingertips to it, making Charlie whimper at the sensitivity.

A satisfied grin curls onto your lips, your fingers trailing down his biceps that are slick with sweat.

He pants above you, his arms trembling under your touch.

You let out a tiny giggle, as much as you can with his massive cock still pressing against your insides.

He slowly slides out of you at that.

You take a deep breath, feeling so empty, but so full as you feel his cum drip out of you.

Charlie lays down next to you on your bed, exhausted, as he pulls you close to him. “Are you okay? Did I… Go too hard?”

You chuckle. “Well, I’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but it was totally worth it.”

He grins as you lean in and press a kiss on his lips.

He kisses you back, and you fall asleep together.

He would be wrecking your insides a lot more often.

[bitter-me]

Hello! could you do Asaba Harumasa with A Loid Forger!Male!Reader who is his Fiancé? (For real not for a misson) And could you do like some general headcanons of it please?

Spy X Executive Officer

Harumasa Asaba | M. Reader as Loid Forger [SpyXFamily]

----------

"You gotta be careful. Because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to you."

----------

General Headcanons

First of all, the moment you two met Harumasa knew you are a spy. Come on now, he's responsible for Section 6's reconnaissance for a reason. In the main story he literally recognized the mercs are closing in on them by their shooting pattern alone. Are you kidding me.

Secrets out and from then on he'll rub it in your face that the Twilight was caught by an Executive Officer and through this process of endless teasing and "accidental meet ups" you two gotten quite close.

Yet despite making teasing the absolute daylight out of you his main mission. Harumasa would always comes to you for help with some missions of his. Come on! He has Twilight on speed dial! What kind of person would he be if he didn't abused use this power? The amount of times you have to pretend to be him for a meeting... too much to even bother counting..

Harumasa seems to have developed a habit since you two got together. One of which is how he looks like a wounded animal whenever you have to "be in a relationship" with someone. He's joking of course. But always seem to jump at the chance whenever Harumasa saw it.

But then again.. you're also using him for your own work as well. HAND has a lot of useful information and Departments. Having an insider on speed dial just make things ten times easier. In short both of you are using each other.. until it became something more as you two craves more with each interactions.

"You're cheating on me! I know I don't have much time, yet you--" "Darling, I am not seeing someone behind your back, it was a mission. We have this conversation before."

Endless teasing. Just endless.

By the way, are you a cat person? Well it doesn't matter you are a cat person now. Say hello to your son/daughter. Harumasa canonically has a cat, so..

Would jokingly as you to teach him some espionage with the excuse that it'll help him be a "more outstanding scout." You didn't, of course. Espionage is your thing. As if you'll let him steal your thunder like that.

Oh no. Harumasa isn't in the office again. He must have taken a sick leave. But how could he get another one? What? He has a doctor's note?

Yes, he would probably, maybe, say "please" a lot, just to get you to write him a doctor's note. Hey! Not his fault that your public image is a Psychiatrist! That just makes your notes 100% legal! And you are this awesome boyfriend of his right? So.. please~ he promise to give you kisses if you do write it~

Although Harumasa seems to know he can't use this trick a lot and uses it sparingly.

The proposal? It's the grenade proposal. I'm sorry but it's cute and it kinda fits ZZZ's world building. Both of you are running from the Ethereals and have gotten cornered. What a bad day it was. You were just about to propose when Harumasa got a call for a mission, since you don't want to waste any time. You decided to help your lover so that you can finally propose when all of these are done. But no, the universe hates you and decided to do this instead and damnit! You lost the ring! Cornered with nowhere else to go you spotted a grenade not to far away. Acting out of instincts you took it, pulling the pin and saying your vow as you put the "ring" on Harumasa's finger.

He ruthlessly tease you about the proposal though. Saying something like "Took you long enough. And here I thought I would die first before knowing the feeling of a ring on my finger." and, "A grenade pin? Seriously? How come those men and women you "marry" for a mission gets an actual ring while I--you're actual lover--only have this? I'm hurt!"

In the end you did get him an actual ring. As he deserved.

----------

Despite usually being seen slacking off. Harumasa works hard on his missions. After all, there's a reason as to why he's a member of Section 6. Naturally.

Yet he's not invincible. Harumasa knows that better than anyone else. Which is why he is now lying in the hospital bed with a sore throat and a heavy chest. It felt as if he were to somehow lie in a wrong way he'll start coughing out a lung. But he doesn't have to worry. He has [Name}. And that man would go full on doctor on him in a heartbeat.

"You're an idiot sometimes." [Name] sighs, sitting on the chair by his lover's bedside. He can't believe Harumasa had willingly injected that thing. Onto him like that. Sure, he understands. Harumasa can't let that thing exist in the world. But seriously?! Did he even think for one second what could have happened to himself if he weren't this lucky?! What if it's a one time thing?!

"You idiot." He whispers underneath his breath.

Harumasa really has to be careful.. because there's someone else back home who'd be heartbroken if anything happened to him.. and that person, is him. [Name] Forger.

For all of his time as a spy. No one had ever made him feel so.. complete. The thought of settling down never crossed his mind. But with Harumasa.. he might just consider it. But..

How is he supposed to settle when the one he loves is constantly on death's door?

[Name] snapped out of his thoughts the moment he registered the warm feeling on his hand. Harumasa's on top of his. Turning his head towards him, [Name] saw Harumasa giving him a reassuring smile. "I know.. but I'm your idiot."

"Don't worry too much. I'm not going anywhere. After all, no one cares more about my life than me."

[zacolyn]

-Steeples fingers- So personal thing and all that, but I am heavily into the story of my WoL and boy howdy did things happen concerning Garlemald.

So my boy Albert is Ala Mhigan, the same age as Lyse and the beginning of his story is starving with his father in Stonesthrow. He grows up to loathe and despise Garleans to the point he’s exactly the kind of Eorzean the Garlean propaganda talks about. He’s practically the poster boy of ‘they think we’re lesser and will oppress us if we don’t oppress them first’. He wants them extinct as a race (oh except for Lucia and Cid, they’re ‘good’ Garleans, you see. Later this will come to include Gaius with severe side eye and only because of Werlyt).

Anyway, with this rampant hatred of most Garleans, the Scions see a bit of a….troubling side of him during Stormblood, in which he is not the sweet, understanding and overall caring WoL they thought he was. Instead they witness an openly bloodthirsty man who delights in the suffering of any Garlean in his sights and he has no kindness for Fordola either. She is a traitor and in his eyes deserves to be tortured for it (yes, even after the Echo shows him her memories).

Shadowbringers was sure something with Emet-Selch, the cause of all his suffering. He eventually sort of forgave him but in a ‘cool motive still murder, and I’ll remember you and your people, but you will not be honored for causing the death of mine’ kind of way.

Anyway, now we get into Endwalker and here I had to actually had to have him possessed by Ardbert for literally up until sometime after we leave Garlemald for a while because if the Scions had thought he was out for blood in Stormblood, at least those were trained soldiers. As much as it had frustrated me when those girls died because the propaganda machine had convinced them Eorzeans were evil, they’d never have had the chance to run from my WoL. Albert would have somehow ensured the twins were away, and he would have killed every single one of those people.

So instead the Garleans get Ardbert. There’s a good plot reason this happens that I won’t get into, but Ardbert can feel and is aware of Albert’s blind and irrational level hatred and he does his best to soothe it. (Albert’s wife also tries to help because she grew up with Albert and knows how bad he is about this, but mostly it’s Ardbert because they’re brain buddies).

All of this to say; it actually made me kind of sick to my stomach to know what my muse would do to these people. It’s in character for him, but he is utterly blind to his hypocrisy and it made that part of Endwalker look interesting to me as well as the evolution of his character thanks to Ardbert.

WRT the Garlemald portion of EW: I'm sure that for a lot of FFXIV's history players have been wondering what it would be like to reach Garlemald proper in-game, and daydreaming of epic battles, maybe a sense of "conquering the conquerers"

And it is so, so genius of EW to not give you that.

You don't get any glory or revenge in defeating the evil empire, they already self-destructed on their own. You can't really revel in it. If you're feeling particularly vindictive you might look at the rubble and silently think "Serves you right!" or "Good riddance to bad rubbish." but no matter how much you may have hated the Empire in the past it's hard not to pity what's left.

See, the thing about Garlemald is that in their prejudice and conquest they treated everyone who isn't them as subhuman. But in the end you are all human beings, and so are they. The Empire isn't a nameless, faceless evil, it's a war machine created by the beliefs of humans who saw other humans as inhuman. By helping the survivors you are not only doing the right thing, the human thing to do, you are also disproving their prejudice in the process by reminding them that you're all human. (I'm using the word "human" in abstract sense here, not to refer just to the Hyuran race of FFXIV, but all the races of sentient beings, all deserving of rights, respect, etc.)

I'm trying to shine a light on the significance of this part of the story because it seems like some people have conflicted feelings about helping citizens of a facist former empire, but it would be sheer Reading Comprehension Stat: None to assume that that means FFXIV is condoning their ideology. In fact, it would be antithetical to FFXIV's optimistic, pro-humanity, love-and-peace, a-better-world-is-possible -type philosophy if we instead left the survivors to starve.

[anpanman95]

Okay so I couldn’t wait for this I’m sorry. I need to talk about it because we might not get any answers any time soon — so I’ll create them.

Bear with me for a little while

Who is behind this?

My first suspect is Boss, for obvious reasons, but let’s think about it a little more.

Aside from the fact Yinwar are not that predictable, Boss has literally no motive to go after Jack/Joke at all, even if he hates them. He shouldn’t have any reason to want to hurt them cause his main desire is power. Money and power. How will he get power and money by kidnapping/keeping Joke hostage?

So here is my other guess. I’m sorry if this ruffles some feathers, but literally anyone could be behind this, knowing what Yinwar are capable of.

Apologies in advance, I’m gonna be brutal.

I suspect Nang and Rose

I know, I know, just hear me out

1. No auspicious date? Tragedy? I stand with Joke when he said “this is simply ridiculous”

Do you remember the last time Yinwar introduced a crazy, ridiculous idea (The Ring and its “power”), that ended up being false? (It was all a game from the Four Horsemen).

“you are also enemies” ?

My friend, they have literally never been enemies. Joke has never seen Jack as his enemy, not once. And Jack had never stopped caring for Joke, either. He had just been driven by anger and pain.

I understand they care a lot about this kind of thing in their culture, but the reasons P’Nang gave were simply not good enough. Telling them their union might become in tragedy? Why? Because they are enemies? They are NOT. They are literally NOT.

(my poor baby Jack fully believing it and Joke being outraged is the most accurate thing)

“You can’t be together” ?!? You’re telling me they’ve been engaged for a YEAR, and you choose this moment to tell them not to do it? Why are you dragging this out? Are you staling, perhaps??

I SAY SUS.

2. Rose not being helpful AT ALL.

I know she doesn’t really have any power, but what the fuck has she done to help them in this episode?

Girl did not lift one single finger except to try and hug Jack (yes that bitchy face did not escape me, Khun Rose)

My girl, I love you, but you could have done SO much more to help them. She didn’t do SHIT. Not ONE single useful thing.

Besides, everyone is talking about their loved ones being invited to this place, and then she casually says:

“It belongs to someone POWERFUL. Scarier and richer than Alice” — why would you say all that? Are you perhaps trying to pull them into a trap?

HUH? This brings me to the next one, actually.

3.How did everyone end up at the casino?

Let’s start with Nang’s scene learning how to drive. This scene irks me. She plants the “death” idea in Hoi, scaring him, unchaining the rest of the events.

Now, the rest of them:

Arun’s connection is his dad

Jack (and ultimately Joke)’s connection is grandma.

Hoi’s (and coincidentally Tattoo’s) connection is Nang.

Hoi is now scared

And loops Joke in to it.

More importantly, Nang gives the invitation to Hoi. Why did she give it to him?

Perhaps so he can show it to the rest? Tattoo, who eventually not only connects the dots for everyone to realize it’s a dangerous place, but also makes duplicates for all of them; to Joke, who realizes this might be the place where the stolen files went to, after Tattoo tells them it’s the same address Save sent them.

Also, did Nang go to this place, though? She was invited. Did Hoi tell her not to go? (I assume Jack stopped his grandmother from going. Arun might have done something similar, but then again, I’m not entirely discrediting boss as guilty)

Or did she actually go and we did not see her? You know, driving herself, as she now knows how to?

And WHY does she need to learn how to drive in the first place? And why didn’t we see where that ended? It felt so random, somehow. Does she need it cause she’ll be driving someone somewhere? Huh? Maybe to a house in the middle of nowhere? huh?

Last but not least,

4. Nang’s reaction to Joke ‘dying’

“If he didn’t die then it would have been you, Hoi” Excuse me, again, but why did anyone have to die? This is what I’m not getting.

How did Jack and Joke’s wedding result in someone dying? Is it because you don’t want this wedding to happen? Why could that be? Hmm?

It makes me wonder.

She also officiated the saddest, most depressing wedding of the century, and girl did not shed a single tear for a tragic dead of a friend. Not one single tear. That’s a biased opinion though.

….

Okay, now, why would they do this?

Well, Rose has a very obvious motive, everybody knows she might still have feelings for Jack.

Nang? Well, Nang will always be there for Rose. She cares for her, and let’s be real. They had a whole year to plan this out. Nang is always there for Rose, that much is clear. Even if that means breaking two people apart in the most horrible way.

Maybe they intended Joke to die and worked with carbon. Maybe they didn’t work with carbon and simply took advantage of the events to their benefit. Maybe they intended to abduct Joke all along.

Remember, it could be as simple as the person behind it being Boss, but Arun lives with him and how would he have not noticed his absence? Arun would have told his friends if his father disappeared or left somewhere.

And it doesn’t feel right. To me it wouldn’t make much sense that boss is the one behind this. I don’t think Yinwar will go down that route as it’d be too obvious. And so far, whenever they were obvious about something in the plot, they put it RIGHT on your face.

And another thing:

Joke’s reaction.

Joke looked both shocked and sad.

It leads me to believe it’s someone he knows and hadn’t expected to be there.

Look, I may be obviously wrong and they might be innocent, but I’m going out of my mind with grief at the moment and I need to analyze this shit to the bottom as a way to cope.

So, I know I might be missing a few things as I only watched properly once, so do let me know what you think. There is A LOT MORE to it, but my brain is all scrambled cause I only got these revelations an hour ago.

Do you guys think it makes a least a little bit of sense? Can you guys think of anyone else that might make sense other than Boss?

We can never be 100% sure, truthfully.

But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that it’d be fucking awesome.

[maxdibert]

Ok, but what about the fact that Snape was a complete hypocrite? He openly looked down on Muggles and Muggle-borns. When his friends cursed someone, he had no problem with it. And he didn’t hold back from making nasty comments about them either. Lily didn’t like the fact that he hung out with them, but he didn’t care—he brushed it off as ‘just a joke.’ Yet he expected Lily to stay away from the Marauders. He showed some pretty nasty tendencies even as a kid.

Oh, so now we’re pretending people aren’t shaped by their environment? That kids don’t absorb the biases of the world they grow up in? That someone who’s been abused, neglected, and ostracized isn’t going to develop warped coping mechanisms, internal contradictions, or, I don’t know, cognitive dissonance?

Let’s break this down like you’re five.

Severus grew up in an abusive household, with a neglectful Muggle father who likely hated everything about magic, and a mother who was a beaten-down, powerless witch. His entire experience with the Muggle world was pain, humiliation, and isolation. Of course he gravitated toward the magical world as an escape. And when the magical world itself was split into factions, he latched onto the side that promised him power, belonging, and a way to finally matter.

Do you think that kind of upbringing magically (pun intended) turns someone into a well-adjusted, morally pristine human being? That he would just wake up one day and unlearn all the resentment and bitterness that had been drilled into him since childhood? That he, a literal outcast, would immediately reject the ideology of the only people who accepted him? Because news flash—that's not how human psychology works.

And yes, cognitive dissonance exists. People hold contradictory beliefs all the time, especially when those beliefs are shaped by pain, trauma, and survival instincts. Snape genuinely loved Lily, yet he still harbored prejudice. He despised the Marauders for tormenting him, yet he didn’t think twice when his own friends tormented others. Because people—brace yourself—are not consistent. They rationalize, they compartmentalize, they act on emotion rather than reason.

And this is where the real irony kicks in: you whine about Snape being a hypocrite, but fail to see that this very hypocrisy is what makes him a well-written, deeply human character. You act like contradictions in a person’s mindset invalidate them, when in reality, they’re what define us. People change, people regret, people make mistakes. The difference between a shallow, black-and-white character and a rich, layered one is that the latter struggles with these contradictions instead of magically overcoming them in a neat little redemption arc that makes you feel comfortable.

So yes, Snape was prejudiced. He was bitter. He was deeply, tragically flawed. But he was also capable of love, remorse, and change. He spent decades working against the ideology he once clung to, sacrificing everything—including his dignity, his safety, and ultimately his life—because he realized he had been wrong.

And that? That’s what makes him more compelling than any of the one-dimensional "good guys" who never had to fight their own demons. That’s what makes him more interesting than the people who had privilege, support, and love, yet still acted like assholes just for fun.

So go ahead and clutch your pearls over "hypocrisy," but just know that all you’re doing is proving that you have a painfully shallow understanding of human nature, storytelling, and, frankly, reality itself.

[foxnikki]

*enters breaking everything*

Resquests are open!!

Nikki, Nikki... Could I ask for Izo and Killer (separately) with a gn/nb s/o who clearly has a bias towards them?

Like, some crew member gets hurt and s/o scolds them for being careless, but with Izo/Killer, s/o is like "my love, are you okay?? 🥺🤜🏻🩹" (the fist is supposed to be a hand holding the band-aid 💀)

Maybe you don't even realize that they CLEARLY have favoritism??

Headcanons pls <3

It's totally fine if you don't wanna write it!!! 💗

— XOXØ, Meli

𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚

They never really understood your behavior at times: the only thing they were sure of was that you took care of them without complaints. Ah, if only they knew they had favoritism!

Pairing: Izou x gn!reader, Killer x gn!reader [separately] Genre: fluff a/n: this is a really cute idea for a story, thanks for the request ♡

izou

Oh, to say that he was scared at the idea of ​​you taking care of him at first was an understatement. Or rather, it would have annoyed him quite a bit, on the other hand he had heard that you had a particular way of taking care of the wounded, and saying taking care seemed like a funny way of saying that while you were taking care of them you repeatedly complained that they had to be more careful. Izo didn't want to hear any complaints.

He had once injured his arm during a battle, but Marco was already busy treating the others, so he had to go to you even though he didn't want to. You disinfected his wound, stitched it up and bandaged it, all this in silence. The only thing you said was at the end, when you gave him a pat. “Here you go" you told him.

It was a pretty calm situation, though maybe it was just because it was the first time he'd come to you, he thought. Oh, how wrong he was.

The next time the wound reopened and he had to return. That time you talked more. “You should be more careful, you know?” you told him, and your voice sounded worried rather than annoyed. "I care about your health..." Izo started to think that the others were exaggerating and said that you were quite aggressive in your ways. How could I be, if you were nice to him?

Sometimes he would even just show up to talk, and you seemed more than happy to listen to him. Of course, he didn't pay attention to the fact that he was probably the only person in the crew who was given that treatment.

Seriously, if he finds out he has favoritism he might find an excuse to get hurt more often.

killer

He was already used to Kid and his outbursts, so when he learned that the crew's new doctor was a rather aggressive guy he didn't pay much attention to it at first. Then one day he saw you with his friend and, oh my god, you were literally scolding him for getting hurt. It was definitely worse than he thought.

The first time he came to you he had a similar if not lighter treatment, you muttered annoyed about how your companions weren't paying attention to what they were doing. Well, at least you didn't yell at him.

One time he saw you bandaging up Bubblegum and, he would say, you were literally crushing his arm. For once he felt lucky.

The second time was a quieter visit, you simply disinfected his wound and put a band-aid on him while humming under your breath. When you finished you said your goodbyes and you gave a smile. He didn't know why but he felt reassured by this gesture, maybe after all you could be kind. Then, you were the doctor, and you just wanted your companions to be well, even if you had your own ways of doing so. Well, maybe he was an exception.

Yet he doesn't pay much attention to the fact that he has a favourite, and perhaps it's for the best. If he found out, he might tell you to treat others the same way because, as he says, he doesn't like favoritism... even though he probably does it himself by giving you the plate with the biggest meal.

© ꜰᴏxɴɪᴋᴋɪ on tumblr - do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform. Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

[judenostopwaitkeepgoing]

A Class Analysis of the Crown Villains

Analyzing all of the EN-released Villains from who would be the most to least wealthy in 1890s Victorian England.

A/N: This is just for fun! These characters/stories are not that deep, and I don’t want them to be! I just find it fun and silly to think through what this world would actually look like in history, and maybe you do too! 😊 Spoilers for pretty much every villain on the EN server, so read at your own risk! Also I am not a historian or economist, just a gal with a computer, so take all of this with a grain of salt.

Also, I’m assuming that Ikémen Villains takes place sometime in the 1890s in London, England—the tail end of Queen Victoria’s rule. This estimated time frame is based mostly on Harry’s love of Arthur Conan Doyle and passing mentions of when “he has a new novel coming out.” Doyle was a prolific writer and wrote for a long time, but I wanted to keep the time period specific enough to really think through what the economics would be like.

Wealthiest - Jude Jazza

Originally I was going to put the villains who belong to the gentry (Elbert and William and ... Victor??? Maybe?? haha) at the top of the list, but the more I thought it through, the more it became clear that in order for Jude to realistically carry out some of the actions in his route (which I haven’t finished!) or various story events/collection events, he would need to be so fucking rich. Like stupid wealthy. Like not quite at Jeff Bezos level of wealth, but pretty up there.

And baby started from the bottom now he’s here, okay! The fact that Jude grew up in abject poverty then became a successful CEO of a trading company originally struck me as one of the more unrealistic things in the game (which I do not care about, he’s still daddy), but the more I looked into it, the more I got on board with it. The writers were smart to add a rich benefactor to his backstory, because in 1890s London, that was probably the only way for a poor kid from the slums to receive an education. Wealth disparity was bad in the 1890s, and people were mad about it! Jude’s hatred of the rich and powerful is in keeping with working class (and even some middle class) attitudes at the time. And with the rapid development and expansion of the Port of London (from the completion of the Royal Victoria Dock in 1855 to the Port of Tilbury in 1886), trading was the business to be in at the time. So it’s not impossible that Jude could have just lucked out in a few key ways and worked extremely hard to get to where he is (although he would still probably be considered a unicorn in this time period).

As for Raven Co.’s annual profit: who knows. I’m guessing it’s in the billions in today’s money. I’m unsure what Jude’s salary would be, he is explicitly characterized in his route as a fair boss who pays his workers a living wage, but he’s also like randomly really generous with like Ellis or Kate (i.e. giving Ellis a blank check for Xmas, giving Kate more than enough money to get a dress, etc.) so he’s probably taking home plenty. And considering how smart Jude is, he’s probably pretty savvy about saving and investing his money. He also makes a lot of deals and has a lot of involvement overseas, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he has bank accounts in several countries. The man is committed to building his rocket, okay! I’d say his annual income is in the hundred millions of dollars (in today’s money). But his net worth is probably in the billions.

Lord Elbert Greetia

Okay, now on to our first landed-gentry boy: Lord Elbert. Lord Elbert is most likely the wealthiest member of Crown in terms of generational wealth, with William coming in a close second.

Elbert is a member of the landed gentry or “peerage” and uses the title of “Lord,” which he inherited from his father. Being in this class means that he not only has significant wealth (in literal pounds and assets), but it also means that he has a rock-solid social standing and owns land. Land ownership is a big deal here because it means that Lord Elbert has the power to control anyone who might be living/working on property that he owns. And I’m not just talking servants/staff at his estate, I’m talking residents of any townships or villages on the likely acres and acres of land that he's in control of. So he has a passive income via taxing residents and laborers on his land(s)... forever! Being in this class also makes his wealth a lot more stable and immutable than say, Jude, who is a great businessman but whose income and assets are at the mercy of the market/demand.

Elbert’s character in the game is very stoic (until Kate shows up!), and he has deep trauma from his childhood home, so he doesn’t seem to exercise a ton of the privileges that would be available to him in terms of controlling the people who live on his properties. But, if we’re talking the 1890s here, he would probably have entire villages or even small towns under his economic purview. I think of him as a Mr. Darcy type, probably bringing in about £10,000 a year, or a little over £1.5 million/$2 million in today’s money. This combined with the cost of all of his assets or “beautiful things” that he compulsively collects (artwork, fine furniture, jewels, real estate, etc.) means I’d estimate his net worth to be about $70-100 million in today’s money.

Lord William Rex

I’m only putting William after Elbert because I do think Elbert has more non-cash assets, simply from the nature of his curse which causes him to be greedy. But let’s be clear: Lord William is also loaded. He, like Elbert, is a member of the peerage of the time and owns lots of land/real estate. He probably receives a pretty substantial passive income from all of his properties like Elbert.

I do think there’s one key difference between them: I have a feeling that William would either redistribute some of the income that he gets from any taxed residents/workers on his properties or lower their taxes—he just seems like the type to be about that. So that’s another reason why I think Elbert might have a higher net worth. Still, we find out that William paid for the construction of a hospital in his route, and for a man to do that in the 1890s, he’d have to be pretty freaking rich. I’d say that his net worth is probably somewhere between $50-100 million in today’s money.

Victor???

Big question mark around Victor! I’m putting him here just because he is so connected to the Queen, and unless we learn something different from his route, I’m pretty sure that means he’s at least upper class, if not a (former) member of the gentry/peerage. Or perhaps comes from a wealthier family. He also receives a salary and lodging from the Queen (as do all the members of Crown I think) so he’s certainly getting all of his needs met. He’s also the oldest member of Crown, which just makes me assume he’s had more time to accrue savings. But couldn’t tell you what his net worth is even if you held a gun to my head, this is all just vibes haha.

Liam Evans

Liam grew up comfortably upper class, basically wealthy despite not being a member of the landed gentry. His father owns an estate, or at least did when Liam was a child, and had staff and servants. Because of his mental illness and disfigurement, Liam’s father probably relied entirely on family money after a certain point.

As an adult, and considering he is a successful and popular leading actor at a major theater in London at the time, Liam is doing well for himself! He is now much better off than his father! Good riddance! Actors at the major theaters at the time were typically paid anywhere between 2-25 pounds per week, and Liam was likely on the upper end of that spectrum. Let’s say he takes home 20 pounds a week, which in today’s money would be about 3,200 pounds, or about 4,000 dollars. That’s 208,000 dollars a year before tax! Not bad at all! But, it’s worth noting, that at the time actors were definitely not seen as contributing members to society (especially women/actresses—they were essentially thrown into the same category as sex workers), so Liam’s social standing in the grand scheme of things is definitely lower as an actor than it was probably growing up in an upper-middle class house.

Ellis Twilight + Alfons Sylvatica

I’m throwing these two in here together because they are probably doing well for themselves, but only because they are attached to a super-rich person haha. Who knows what their salaries/wages are or what kind of deal they have with their respective sugar daddies (hehe) but suffice to say they don’t have to worry about money. Alfons is probably more irresponsible with his money, only because of his lifestyle, but even so he’s nowhere near as big of a spender as Elbert so it probably all ends up a wash. And I’m assuming that Jude pays Ellis pretty well because he loves him lol.

Harrison Gray

Okay, this one took some digging! Harry’s dad was a police officer, which in today’s world would mean that his family was pretty well-off and Harry had a comfortable upbringing. Not a member of the upper classes/gentry, but probably solidly middle class. This is also implied in the game, or at least Harry isn’t one of the characters that we know grew up poor.

But, it turns out, police officers weren’t paid super well in mid/late 1800s London! Harry’s dad would probably be on the better-paid side of the spectrum because he was a chief/high-ranking, but the police were a relatively new-ish phenomenon and weren’t considered “high-value” professionals. Harry’s dad likely only took home about 10 guineas a week, which in today’s money is about £1,400 or $1,700, so he was making about $88,000 a year in today’s money (before taxes). Which would be relatively comfortable for a single person today, but for a family in the 1800s would be pretty much living paycheck to paycheck with maybe a couple splurge purchases a year (like for Christmas or birthdays). So Harry’s family wasn’t anywhere near as poor as Jude or Alfons were growing up, but they likely lived quite modestly!

As an adult, Harry probably makes a healthy salary as an editor/proofreader. Publishing was booming in the 1890s, and writers were most often serialized in weekly publications, which meant a steady income for both writers and publishers. I’d say Harry is probably taking home a couple hundred pounds at the least per week, so something in the thousands of dollars in today’s terms. It’s unclear to me what the rules of living in Crown castle are. Like do they pay rent? I don’t think so? Let’s say they don’t, which means Harry gets to save/keep all his wages and only spends on personal stuff. He doesn’t seem like the biggest spender, if anything he reads as very sensible with money to me, haha. So he’s likely got a cozy little net worth building up but nothing crazy. Since wealth stratification is so extreme in this time period (the rich were very rich and the poor were very poor), Harry would probably be making enough to still be looked down on by the upper classes and enough to still be the object of contempt for the lower classes.

Poorest ? - Roger Barel

Doctors today are very well paid, but this was not the case in the late 1800s! Growing up, Roger’s dad probably had an annual salary of about 300-500 pounds a year, or roughly $45k-$80k in today’s money. Not a lot to live on for a whole family now, but this probably went further in the 1870s/80s when Roger was growing up. It’s implied that his family lived relatively comfortably, so I’m guessing that his dad had a good reputation and was sought after for his surgical expertise. He may have even gotten paid to teach in surgery ‘theatres’ of the time. (I haven’t read or looked much into Roger’s route so this might be wrong!)

I’m only ranking him last because he seems to not be formally employed haha. Since Roger is not a publicly practicing surgeon, he is relying on his income (?) and lodging from Crown for his day-to-day expenses. This could be any amount it seems, haha, depending on what he asks Victor/the Queen for. He doesn’t seem like a crazy spender, so he’s probably not complaining. I have no idea what his salary would be, though. It doesn’t seem like Crown bothers with all that, haha.

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 12

˗ˏˋ vanilla coffee ˎˊ˗

"There's a science to making perfect coffee, he says. But there's no science to explain why watching him make it—shirtless and sleep-rumpled—makes you forget every reason you shouldn't want him."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 7,4k

rating: explicit (sex)

content: jungkook literally has a vanilla kink at this point i'm sorry that wasn't even planned he's just got free will, coffee lessons that are somehow hot, tiny shorts being instigators, verbal sparring as foreplay, protected sex, titty play, titty worship, penetrative vaginal sex, him fingering her

✧ author's note ✧

Listen. LISTEN. I don’t know what kind of demonic possession took over me while writing this chapter, but I had zero control over my own hands. Like, the coffee scene? The mug sharing? The delicious moment??? I AM IN HELL. (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

I started this chapter with the intention of them being petty little gremlins about vanilla-scented products, and somehow it ended with Jungkook making a whole latte just to flex on Y/N. A LATTE. And don’t even get me started on the mug proximity crimes. The way Y/N is actively short-circuiting over his hands and forearms like a Victorian woman seeing ankle for the first time?? We are ALL in trouble. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

And then—oh, god—the sweatpants menace. If you know, you know.

As always, please send thoughts, screams, and existential crises to the comment box. Love you, stay hydrated, and if a man ever offers to elevate your coffee… RUN. (Or sit in his lap. Your call.) (¬‿¬)

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Good tired is still tired.

Your bag hits the dining table with a thud that perfectly matches how your brain feels right now—heavy and slightly bruised. 

7PM. 

You gave him way more than forty minutes. Actually gave him two whole hours, not that you're counting. 

Not that you care. You're just... observant.

But then you catch it—that familiar scent hanging in the air. Vanilla. Your mind immediately goes to that specific vanilla body wash that costs way too much but is the only thing that doesn't make your skin break out.

Oh, he fucking didn't.

Your fist connects with his door maybe a bit harder than necessary. There's a loud thud from inside, followed by what sounds like someone falling off a bed, then a muffled "shit” before footsteps approach.

The door swings open and—oh.

Oh no.

He's shirtless, because of course he is. Hair a disaster, eyes heavy with sleep, that stupid silver ring catching the light as he runs a hand down his face. There's a pillow crease on his cheek and he looks... soft. Which is absolutely not what you need right now when you're trying to be angry.

"What," he growls, voice rough with sleep, "is your problem?"

Right. Anger. Focus on that.

"My problem?" You gesture vaguely at the air between you. "My problem is you letting random hookups use my shit!"

His brow furrows, like he's trying to process your words through a fog of interrupted sleep. Then his expression does this complicated thing—confusion to understanding to something else you can't quite read.

He presses his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Phoenix, I didn't." When he looks at you again, he seems more awake. "I told her your stuff was off limits."

"Then why does it smell like—"

He brushes past you, heading toward the bathroom, and you absolutely do not notice how warm he is when he passes. Or how he still smells like rain under the vanilla.

"Are you seriously walking away while I'm—"

He stops so suddenly you almost run into him. Turns. Points at the coffee table.

"It's your candle."

You follow his finger and... oh.

There's one of your vanilla candles burning quietly on the table, nearly at its end. Which means it's been lit for...

He groans, running a hand down his face again. "You said to open the windows, and I just..." He waves vaguely at the candle. "Whatever."

"You..." The words aren't quite computing. "You lit my candle?"

"You told me to air out the apartment."

"So you used my candle to get cozy with some random—"

"For fuck's sake, Phoenix." He looks like he's regretting every life choice that led him here. "I lit it because you like these stupid vanilla things, okay? Thought it'd make the place smell nice when you got back."

Oh.

Something warm and uncomfortable squirms in your chest. Because that's... that's actually kind of...

"Well." You cross your arms, refusing to acknowledge the weird feeling. "Maybe ask next time before using my stuff."

"Maybe don't ghost me for two hours when I asked for forty minutes."

"I was studying!"

"With your phone on silent?"

"Some of us have actual academic responsibilities, Rogue."

His mouth twitches. "Some of us have other responsibilities."

"Yeah, bet ‘pussy eating’ looks great on a résumé.”

“Didn’t eat her pussy. Just fucked it.”

You grimace. “TMI.”

He shrugs. “You brought it up.”

“You were the one bragging about responsibilities like it’s a noble calling.”

“Hey, takes dedication. Skill. Stamina.” A smirk. “Not my fault you’re fixated on it.”

Fixated—

“Right. Just like I’m fixated on your four-hour recovery nap.”

“Wasn’t napping the whole time.”

“Gross.”

“You asked.”

“I literally didn’t.”

He's fighting a smile now, you can tell. Which is annoying because you're trying to be mad about your candle. Or your body wash. Or... something.

"Whatever." You turn toward your room, because this conversation needs to end before you do something stupid like thank him for thinking about the smell. "Just ask next time."

"Before lighting your pretentious vanilla candles?"

"They're not pretentious."

"They're thirty dollars each."

"How do you know how much they—" You spin back around. "Have you been looking up my candles?"

"No."

"Oh my god, you totally have."

"I was curious why they cost so much when they all smell the same!"

"They do not all smell the same, you absolute heathen."

He raises an eyebrow. "French Vanilla and Vanilla Bean are literally the same thing."

"I'm not having this conversation with someone who probably thinks Old Spice is a personality trait."

"At least I don't need a PhD to buy soap."

"No, you just need—" You stop, narrowing your eyes. "Wait. How do you know what's in my shower?"

"You know what?" He stretches, and you absolutely do not track the movement with your eyes. "All this talk about vanilla is making me crave coffee. Specifically..." He grins, slow and deliberate. "Those vanilla capsules you hide in the back of the cabinet."

"Don't you dare—"

"The ones behind the protein powder?"

"Those are mine." You follow him as he saunters toward the kitchen, still annoyingly shirtless. "I specifically said they weren't for you."

"Come on, Phoenix." He's already moving toward the kitchen, all loose limbs and bare chest like putting on a shirt is beneath him. "Let me show you how to actually make coffee. Teach you some culture. Some technique."

You swat at him as he passes. "I know how to use a coffee maker."

"Sure you do." His laugh is rough with sleep, and you hate that you notice. "That's why you murdered a perfectly good espresso shot this morning."

"I did not—"

"The beans were crying, Phoenix. I heard them."

But you're already following him to the kitchen because apparently you hate yourself. 

He's wearing those stupid gray sweatpants that hang just low enough to be illegal in at least three states, and his hair is still a disaster from sleep, curling at the nape of his neck.

"First rule," he says, running his hands over the coffee maker like it's something precious, "is respecting the machine."

"It's a coffee maker, not royalty."

"See? No respect." His fingers dance over the settings with practiced ease. "That's why your coffee tastes like sad bean water."

You lean against the counter, watching as he measures grounds with ridiculous precision. 

"My coffee tastes fine."

"Your coffee tastes like betrayal and broken dreams." He adjusts the grind size, movements quick and sure. "You probably think instant coffee is acceptable."

"Only when I'm feeling particularly spiteful."

His horrified gasp is so dramatic it actually makes you laugh. "You're a monster."

"Guilty."

He shakes his head, tamping down the grounds with absolutely unnecessary focus. The muscles in his forearms flex with the movement, and you definitely don't notice. Just like you don't notice how his hands look wrapping around the portafilter, or how his ring catches the kitchen light when he locks it into place.

"Watch," he says, flipping switches with the confidence of someone who definitely spent too much time watching barista tutorials on YouTube. "This is where the magic happens."

"It's coffee, not alchemy."

"Shh. You're ruining the moment."

The machine hums to life, and okay—maybe you can kind of see why he's so precious about it. There's something almost hypnotic about the way the espresso streams out, dark and perfect.

"See how it's not running too fast?" He's fully in teacher mode now, gesturing at the flow. "That's what you want. Nice and steady. Not that waterfall disaster you created this morning."

"Are you done being pretentious yet?"

"Never." He grabs your vanilla capsules—the ones you specifically told him not to touch—and starts steaming milk. "But I'll make it worth your while."

"By stealing my coffee?"

"By elevating your coffee." The milk pitcher moves in his hand like it's an extension of his arm. "You'll never want that chain store stuff again."

"Bold of you to assume I want anything you make."

His smile is all trouble. "Liar."

And okay, maybe he has a point. Because the drink he slides across the counter a few minutes later looks... kind of perfect. The foam is glossy and smooth, and the vanilla smell hits just right.

"Well?" He raises an eyebrow, waiting.

You take a sip and—fuck.

Fuck.

"It's..." 

No. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.

But he's already grinning, the bastard. "Say it."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Phoenix." He leans forward, elbows on the counter. "Admit it. I made your vanilla whatever-the-fuck better than you ever could."

"I will literally die first."

"That good, huh?"

You flip him off, taking another sip instead of answering. But then he's there, right there, and when did he get so close? His fingers brush yours as he takes the mug, gentle but deliberate, and your throat goes dry.

He holds your gaze, something dark and playful dancing in his eyes. Doesn't ask permission with words—just tilts his head slightly, the question clear in the quirk of his mouth. And you should say something. Should stop him. Should—

The mug touches his lips. Your lips were just there. Three seconds ago, your mouth was exactly where his is now, and that shouldn't make your stomach clench but it does.

His eyes are too much. Too dark, too intense, too fucking knowing as he takes a slow sip. Have they always been this brown? This smoky? Like whiskey in low light, like trouble wrapped in honey. 

The kind of eyes that should come with a warning label: Danger. Side effects may include stupid decisions and ruined underwear.

His tongue darts out, catching a stray drop on his lower lip. Slow. Deliberate. The silver ring on his hand catches the light as he lowers the mug, and his voice drops to something husky.

"Delicious."

Nope. Absolutely not.

You snatch the mug back, ignoring how your fingers tingle where they brush his. "Make your own, you coffee nerd."

Retreat. Strategic retreat to the couch is definitely the smart play here. Because your brain is currently short-circuiting, trying to process how one word—one stupid, fucking word—in that voice can make your thighs press together.

His laugh follows you, low and knowing. The sound wraps around you like smoke, like the way he smelled that thunderstorm night, like—

Griffin chooses that exact moment to slink into the living room, green eyes judging you both as he hops onto the windowsill. He stretches, impossibly long, before curling into a perfect orange circle, pointedly turning his back to you both. 

At least someone in this apartment has standards.

Focus. You're focusing.

But then you hear him moving behind you. The quiet rhythm of his breathing, the soft appreciative hums as he works the coffee maker. The whisper of fabric as his sweatpants shift with his movements. Each sound feels magnified, like your brain has decided to process everything in HD surround sound.

Don't look back. Don't do it. Don't—

Fuck.

You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret every decision that led to this moment. Because his back is a work of art, all broad shoulders and defined muscle, and it's not fair. It's not fucking fair that even from behind he's attractive enough to make your mouth water. The way his shoulder blades move as he works the machine, the dip of his spine disappearing into those low-hanging sweats, the unruly hairs curling at his nape...

Snap your head forward. Drink your coffee. Stop being a horny disaster for five consecutive minutes.

But you can still hear him. Still feel his presence behind you like a looming cloud. Still taste the ghost of his lips where they touched the same spot yours did on the mug.

This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just tired and touch-starved and maybe a little worked up from your stupid assignments—

"Want another taste, Phoenix?"

His voice is closer now, right behind you, and you absolutely do not shiver. "Didn't anyone teach you to drink your own coffee?"

"Didn't anyone teach you that stealing tastes better?"

You refuse to turn around. Refuse to acknowledge how his words squeeze your chest. "You're impossible."

"You like impossible."

And that's... that's not something you're equipped to handle right now. Not with him standing there all sleep-warm and shirtless, voice rough like gravel, smelling like rain and coffee and sin.

"I like peace and quiet," you lie, taking another sip of your rapidly cooling drink.

His laugh is soft, dangerous. "Liar."

The couch dips as he drops down next to you, thigh pressed against yours like he owns the space. Like personal boundaries are just suggestions. He has a mug in hand now, and his coffee smells kind of amazing and you hate him for it.

You shift away, but his hand lands on your thigh—warm, heavy, there. His fingers span the width of it easily, and your brain helpfully supplies memories of those same fingers in other contexts. 

It doesn’t escape your notice, how his eyes linger on where your shorts have ridden up your thighs from your hours in the library. 

"No," you manage, swatting his thigh with yours.

"No what?" His voice is still rough from sleep, and it's doing things to you. Unfair things.

"No manspreading next to me." You try to sound annoyed instead of affected. "Keep your sweaty balls to yourself."

He squeezes your thigh, just once. Just enough to make you want to throw the mug at him. Or yourself. "My balls aren't sweaty."

"Bet they are.”

"Want to check?"

"You're actually the worst." But you don't move his hand. Why aren't you moving his hand?

"That's not what you said last time."

And fuck him for bringing up last time. Fuck him for smelling like rain and coffee and sleep-warm skin. Fuck him for the way his thumb is drawing absent circles on your thigh, like he's not even aware he's doing it.

"Lapse in judgment."

His laugh rumbles through you, too close, too much. "Which time?"

"Pick one."

"I'd rather pick you up."

You turn to tell him exactly where he can shove that line, but it's a mistake. Because he's right there, all heavy-lidded eyes and sleep-soft mouth, and your brain fizzles. His hair is still a mess, curling at his temples, and you want to grab it. Want to find out if it's as soft as it looks. Want to—

"You're staring, Phoenix."

"Untrue."

His fingers flex on your thigh. "Big word for someone who can't stop looking at my mouth."

"I'm not—" But you are. You absolutely are. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Always those two damn words. Always saying ‘make me’, like he knows how it riles you up. Like he likes how it riles you up. His eyes are dark, dangerous, and you can feel his pulse through his fingers on your thigh. Or maybe that's your pulse. Everything feels too hot, too close, too—

"Your coffee's getting cold," you manage, voice embarrassingly breathy.

His smile is slow, knowing. "Yeah?”

His eyes drop to your shorts—the ones you've been wearing all day, the ones that rode up your thighs during your study session. And okay, maybe they're a little too short. Maybe you felt Jimin's concerned glance when you stretched in the library. But it's not your fault the AC in your car is temperamental at best.

"These can't be comfortable after sitting in the library all day," he murmurs, fingers playing with the hem. “Could help you out of them."

"Thought you were tired from your afternoon activities."

"Second wind." His thumb traces the seam where it cuts into your thigh. "Come here."

You raise an eyebrow, ignoring how your body wants to lean into his touch. "I am here."

"No," and his voice drops lower, rougher. "Here." He pats his lap, and the casual confidence of it irritating. Hot. Irritatingly hot. "Unless you're scared."

"Of what? Your ego?"

"Of how bad you want it." His eyes flick to your chest, where your shirt dips just low enough to be interesting. "Been thinking about these shorts all day. Since you drove me to class."

"Didn't realize my driving skills were such a turn on."

"Your driving skills are terrible." His hand slides higher, testing. "But watching you grip the steering wheel..."

You swallow. "That's kind of pathetic."

"Yeah?" His fingers find the spot where your shorts meet skin. "Then why are you breathing so hard?"

"Because you're annoying me."

He laughs, low and dangerous. "Hop on, Phoenix. Let me annoy you properly."

"That's your big move? 'Hop on'?"

“As long as it gets you on top of me...” He smiles now, actually smiles. “I’d say it’s working.”

And fuck him for being right. Fuck him for the way his eyes are all pupil now, for how his skin is still warm, for how he smells like everything you want to taste.

"You're awful," you breathe, but you're already shifting closer.

"Show me how awful."

His fingers hook through your belt loop and suddenly you're being yanked forward with zero warning. The squeak that leaves your mouth is embarrassing.

"Rude," you swat at him, but he catches your wrist easily. His hand is so warm around your cold skin.

"C'mere," he breathes, and before you can process it, you're straddling him. 

His hands slide down to grab your ass, fingers digging into the flesh and pulling you closer until you fall forward, catching yourself with hands on either side of his head.

He hums, the sound vibrating through you where you're pressed against him. And—yeah. Well. That's definitely not his phone in his sweats.

"Ride me?" The way he says it is almost lazy, but his eyes are dark, hungry. That half-lidded look that means tarnation.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Phoenix." His fingers flex on your ass, making you rock against him. "Don't be mean."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how good he feels under you. "Mean?"

"Been hard since I saw you in these fucking shorts this morning." He bites his lip, looking up at you through his lashes. "Just thinking about your thighs spread over my lap like this..."

"That sounds like a you problem."

His laugh is breathless, a little wild. "I’ll make it an us problem."

"Thought you were tired from earlier."

"Different kind of tired." His hands guide you into a slow grind against him. "This is more... inspiration."

"You're actually insane."

"Yeah?" He rocks up, making you gasp. "Feeling pretty sane right now. Feeling like I really want you to—fuck—" 

You'd rolled your hips, just to shut him up. Just to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. But now he's looking at you like you’re his favorite dessert, and his hands are everywhere, and—

"That's it," he breathes, voice gone raspy. "Just like that, come on..."

He guides your hips into another roll, watching you with that hungry, hazy look. His thumbs dig into your hipbones, controlling the pressure, the pace.

"Been thinking about this," he breathes, voice rough. "How you'd look bouncing on my cock. How your tits would—fuck—" You grind down harder, feeling him twitch against you. "Haven't even gotten to see them properly yet."

"Poor you," but your voice shakes when his hands slide up under your shirt, spanning your ribs.

"Poor me," he agrees, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. "All I got was that quick fuck against the window. Then you cumming on my tongue." His eyes are dark, pupils blown. "But this? Getting to watch you ride me? See these bounce while you—"

"You talk too much." You're trying for annoyed but it comes out breathy.

"Make me shut up then." His hips snap up. "Come on, Phoenix. Show me how well you can take it, yeah?"

"That's your big plan? Get me all worked up in the living room?"

“Getting worked up anywhere you’ll let me.” His fingers find your nipples through your bra, rolling them until you arch. “Been waiting to get you like this. Spread out on top of me, swallowing me deep in this greedy pussy…”

You let out a breathy laugh, grinding down just to spite him. “Yeah?” Your voice is pure teasing, but the heat is real. “She didn’t wring you out completely?”

His grip tightens on your waist, nails pressing in just enough to make you feel it. “Seems like she didn’t.”

You hum, dragging your hips forward again, slow and deliberate. “Mm. That’s a shame.”

“Yeah?” His voice dips, rough and taunting, but his hands—his fucking hands—are already shoving your shirt up, fingers tracing up your spine before yanking your bra down just enough to expose you. His thumb drags over one nipple, his breath warm against your throat. “You wanna fix that?”

You pretend to consider, rolling your hips again, dragging your pussy right over the thick ridge of him. Fuck. He’s not even inside you, and it’s already so good.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Wouldn’t want to overwork you.”

His laugh is sharp, incredulous. “Nix.” His voice is wrecked—the kind of hoarse, hungry sound that goes straight to your cunt. “You feel what you’re doing to me?” He thrusts up, slow but deep, and you suck in a breath. “Think I’m fucking tired?”

And yeah, okay. He’s still hard as fucking steel beneath you. Still needy. Still looking at you like he’s seconds from losing what little patience he has left.

“It’s these fucking shorts,” he mutters, grabbing a handful of your ass like he wants to leave bruises. “Oh my god, this fucking ass.”

You hold back a laugh, rolling your hips again, enjoying the way his breath stutters. “That easy, huh?”

His hands tighten on you. “You know what you do to me.” His mouth finds your throat, teeth scraping just enough to make you quiver. “S’why you wore these, right?”

You don’t answer, just reach between you to shove down his sweatpants, dragging them low enough to free his cock. And—fuck. He’s so hard it’s almost obscene, thick and flushed and already leaking. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, running a teasing finger up his shaft, watching his stomach tense. “Didn’t even get a full reset, did you?”

His jaw flexes. “No.” A muscle in his cheek jumps as he watches you wrap your hand around him. “The fuck do you expect when you walk around in these little fucking—” His breath hitches when you thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there. “Shit—shorts. The second I saw you, I knew—”

“You knew what?” You press the question into his skin, lips just beneath his jaw, hand still working him slow.

His grip on your ass tightens, grounding, punishing. “Knew I was gonna end up inside you tonight.”

And fuck. That sends a fresh wave of heat through you, has your thighs squeezing around him. Because yeah, okay, maybe you had the same thought the second you walked in and saw him standing there in nothing but those damn sweatpants.

But there’s still one thing gnawing at you. One thing that makes your brain fight for a fraction of control through the heat.

“Did you use condoms?”

His head snaps up, brow furrowing like you just asked if water is wet. “Of course I did. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

You exhale, relief flooding through you faster than the heat pooling low in your stomach. 

“Okay, fuck. Okay.” You swallow. “Where are they?”

And Jungkook—fucking Jungkook—instead of answering, he grabs your tits. Both hands, rough and impatient, unclasping you bra like it personally offended him.

“Jesus—wait—” You barely manage to lift your arms before he’s yanking it over your head, flinging it somewhere behind him.

“You on the pill?” he murmurs, barely pausing his focus on your tits.

“No.” You don’t even hesitate.

And to his credit, he doesn’t either. “Okay. Condoms it is.”

Respectful. A menace, but respectful.

You barely have time to process that before his fingers are pressing into the small of your back, guiding you forward, making you press flush against him as he leans toward the coffee table.

And you—because apparently you’re both equally insane—just let him.

His other hand reaches forward, jerking open the small drawer in the coffee table, fishing out a foil packet with practiced ease.

“You keep condoms in the living room?”

Jungkook doesn’t even blink. “Yeah. Just in case.”

“In case?” Your eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t you fuck in your room like normal people?”

“Yeah?” He grabs the foil packet, tossing it onto the couch beside him before his hands are right back on your waist, thumbs sliding under the waistband of your shorts. “But, y’know… just in case you wanted it.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Me?”

“You, Phoenix.” He squeezes your hips like he’s grounding himself, like he has to touch you while he says it. “I usually fuck in my room. But you and me—we already did it against the window, so I figured…” He shrugs, casual as ever. “Might as well be prepared.”

“I—” You blink, processing, trying to form actual thoughts. “That’s crazy.”

He shrugs, so fucking nonchalant it’s unfair. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Think about it.” His mouth curls, eyes flicking from your mouth to your bare chest and back again. “Imagine I had to stop and go all the way to my room right now.” He pauses, letting the implication settle. “Wouldn’t that just kill the mood?”

And okay. You do snort at that.

Because this is ridiculous.

Because this is actually thoughtful.

Because he’s still hard as a rock under you, talking about condom logistics while casually groping your ass, like he’s planning for a fire drill and not fucking you senseless on the couch.

“No, like. You’re a complete nut case,” you murmur, shaking your head.

“Quick access,” he corrects, and then—fuck.

His mouth is on your tits again.

No hesitation, no teasing buildup, just his tongue dragging over one nipple, warm and slick before closing his lips around it.

Your breath catches, fingers twitching where they brace on his shoulders. “Jesus—”

He hums against your skin, like this is just an extension of the conversation. Like he can talk about fucking you and have his tongue on your tits in the same breath.

And then, because he’s Jungkook and apparently completely fucking obsessed with your chest, he moves to the other one, sucking deep and slow, like he’s savoring it.

“Can’t help it,” he mutters against you, voice rough. “Tits too fucking perfect.”

Which—okay. You shouldn’t preen at that, but his mouth is so fucking warm, and his hands are so fucking big—

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and his breath stutters.

And then he’s leaning back just enough to look up at you, lips slick, pupils blown. “You gonna let me fuck you cowgirl now, or you wanna keep pretending we’re still talking?”

You poke at his dick playfully, watching with satisfaction as it twitches immediately.

His breath stutters, eyes flicking up to yours, but he doesn’t say a word. Just watches—completely absorbed—as you pluck the condom from the side and roll it down over him, slow and deliberate.

His jaw flexes, lips parting slightly, and when you glance up, you catch it—his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice all low and wrecked.

You smirk, dragging your fingers back up his shaft just because you can, because you like making him twitch, like how he watches you like he’s seconds from losing his mind.

His hands are already on your thighs when you lift up, finally removing those tiny ass shorts—but when your fingers hook into your panties, he stops you.

“Keep them.”

You blink, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” His hands skim up, palms rough against your bare skin. “They’re red and lacy and fucking beautiful—” His voice breaks off into a sharp exhale as he shifts under you, cock nudging against the damp lace between your legs. “Just shove them to the side and let me fuck you like this.”

Heat licks down your spine, and fuck, maybe it is kind of hot—his voice raw, gaze locked where you’re already so wet for him.

“Yeah?” You drag the fabric aside, slow and teasing, letting him see what he’s about to have. “You want me to ride you like this?”

“Nix.” His voice is all smoke and gravel. “Fucking sit on it.”

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders.

And then, in one swift motion, you sink down onto him.

“Fuck—”

Jungkook shudders, breath breaking apart as he bottoms out inside you, hands clamping down on your hips so hard it’s murderous. His fingers dig deep into your skin, like he’s fighting the urge to slam you down harder, deeper, but he doesn’t—he just grips, holds, feels.

And fucking watches.

Because this—this—is his favorite.

The way you stretch around him, the way he can see it, can watch himself disappear inside you from this angle. The lace of your panties bunched to the side, the way your slick coats his cock, the slow, obscene drag as he throbs inside you.

His jaw clenches, his head falling back, but his eyes stay locked on where your bodies meet. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You suck in a breath, thighs trembling slightly, trying to adjust to the stretch, the pressure, the way he fills you completely. You brace your hands on his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle shift beneath your palms as he groans deep in his throat.

“You feel that, Nix?” His voice is rough, wrecked. “Feel how deep you’re taking me?”

You bite your lip, trying not to squirm at the way that sounds coming from him, the way his cock pulses inside you like he can feel every little squeeze.

His grip on your hips flexes. “Come on, let me hear you.”

You swallow hard, already feeling too fucking warm. “I—”

“I what?” His hands slide down, palms rough and greedy as they find your ass, grabbing handfuls, spreading you just to push inside you deeper. “Fuck, Phoenix, you feel so fucking good.”

Your thighs twitch, heat licking up your spine, and okay—okay, maybe that makes something inside you tighten. The way he wants you to feel it. The way he sounds like he’s barely holding on.

“Look at you. Sitting so fucking pretty on my cock like this.”

Your breath stutters.

“Fuck—” His fingers flex again, grip punishing, possessive. “Knew you’d look good like this. In this position. Been dreaming ‘bout it.”

You exhale shakily, pressing your palms harder against his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath your hands.

“Yeah?” The word slips out before you can stop it, quiet, breathless, barely more than an exhale. 

And then, even as much as you convince yourself you hate dirty talk—his dirty talk—how you tell yourself it’s cringe… You find yourself engaging. You find yourself slipping. 

“You wanted me in this position, Ro? Riding you?”

And Jungkook? He fucking relishes on it.

“Yeah,” he rasps, dark eyes flicking up to yours, mouth curling slow, dirty. “Getting bold on me, Phee?”

Heat rushes up your throat, your pulse pounding, but you don’t look away. You can’t—not with the way he’s looking at you, not with how deep he is inside you.

“God,” he groans, hands gripping your ass again, spreading you wider just to watch himself sink into you even more. “You should see how you look right now.”

His voice is wrecked—half-growl, half-moan—and you have to fight the way your thighs want to squeeze around him, hold him there.

But he notices.

And grins.

“Fucking knew it,” he mutters, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “You like hearing it, don’t you?”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers twitching on his chest. “Shut up.”

“Nah.” He tilts his head, thumbs digging into your skin, grounding, teasing. “Think I finally got you to like it.”

And fuck—fuck—you can’t even argue, because his cock twitches inside you and your whole body reacts, a shiver running up your spine.

His smirk widens. “See?”

You exhale sharply. “Rogue.”

“Phoenix.” His hands tighten again, his voice a slow, taunting drawl. “C’mon, yeah? Ride me.”

Your thighs flex as you lift yourself up, the slow drag of him leaving you just enough to make you whimper, then you sink back down, faster this time, harder.

Jungkook’s jaw goes slack, hands gripping your ass like he’s barely holding himself together. “Christ—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You move again, rising and dropping, setting a pace that has his breath coming out in ragged exhales, his nails biting into your skin. Every inch of him stretches you open, fills you up, makes your stomach coil tighter and tighter.

And then—

His right hand moves.

Fingers slipping lower, rough against your skin, then lower, lower—

Until he’s spreading you.

His fingers part your folds, stretching you open wider just so he can watch himself disappear inside you.

“For fuck’s sake Ro—”

“Shit,” he exhales, low and wrecked, eyes locked on where his cock is sliding in and out of you, the obscene wetness coating both of you. “Look at that. Fucking dripping for me, Phoenix. Can’t help it.”

Your thighs shake, breath shuddering, and you want to tell him to shut the fuck up—but you can’t, because you may not see it, but you feel it. The way your body takes him, how slick and messy it is, how deep he’s buried every time you drop back down.

It’s filthy. He’s filthy.

“You’re so nasty,” you gasp, nails digging into his chest for balance.

He laughs, dark and smug. “And you fucking love it.”

Before you can snap back, he finally—finally—looks up at you.

And his breath stutters.

Because, of course, in this position, your tits are bouncing.

His pupils blow wide, throat working through a hard swallow, and then—his hands fly up immediately.

Grabbing. Palming. Squeezing.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice breaking apart, gaze flicking between your tits and your face like he doesn’t know where to look first. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His grip on your waist tightens, nails digging in, and then—his head falls back. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, breath coming in sharp, desperate pants.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he gasps, voice wrecked, low and so needy you almost mewl, because you’ve never heard him like that. “Gonna cum so fucking bad—”

Your rhythm stutters. “Don’t you dare finish before me.”

“Fucking—” He grunts, muscles tensing beneath you as his hands clamp down harder, like he’s fighting it, trying to hold on, but— “Oh my fucking god, Phoenix—”

You can feel him struggling—his thighs trembling beneath you, abs flexing tight, his cock twitching inside you, buried so deep.

“How the fffffuck—” his breath shudders, “do you expect me—Jesus Christ—to hold b-back when your tits—god—”

His hands are everywhere—palming, grabbing, fucking worshiping your chest like he’s possessed—and then his mouth is there again, latching onto your right tit, tongue flicking over your nipple, sucking deep and wet.

“Shit,” you whimper, back arching.

“Fuck—fuck—” 

He suddenly leans back, dragging you down hard onto his cock as he thrusts up to meet you, hips snapping with short, frantic rolls.

Your breath shatters, thighs burning, your whole body jolting with every desperate slam of his hips. 

And his eyes.

Jesus.

His eyes are locked on you, wide and hungry, flicking between your parted lips and your chest.

And then—

“Grab ‘em,” he pants, voice rough, ruined. “Fuck—grab those titties for me, Phee.”

Your stomach flips.

“Grab’em while you ride me—” His breath catches, his abs flexing. “Fucking—God, I need to see it—”

Heat floods your spine, your pulse pounding as you do what he says—palms sliding up, gripping the soft weight of your tits, squeezing just enough to lift, to move, to give him exactly what he wants.

And his reaction—

“Jesus fucking—” His head falls back hard against the couch before snapping back up, completely fucking wrecked. “Oh my god—look at them—look at you—fuck, fuck—”

His fingers dig into your hips, forcing you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you as he thrusts up, trying to get deeper, trying to burn this into his brain.

“Oh god, oh god, Phoenix— I swear to fucking God—” His hands slide down, gripping your ass. “Fucking dripping— so messy for me—”

His voice breaks on a groan, hips slamming up, chasing it, his body seizing up as he loses it.

“Shit—shit—I’m—oh my god—fuck—I’m cumming—”

And then—he snaps.

His grip on your waist locks, his whole body tensing beneath you, and his head tips back, mouth falling open as he moans—a deep, raw sound from the bottom of his fucking chest.

He creams inside the condom, hips jerking up in short, shallow thrusts, pulsing thick and hot as he spills into it.

His hands shake as they guide your hips down, grinding you onto him, milking every last drop, needing to feel every second of it.

And you—

You’re about to sigh, about to roll your eyes, because seriously? He just came? You haven’t even—

But before the frustration can even fully settle, he moves.

One second, he’s slumped against the couch, breathless, spent. 

The next—he’s flipping you onto your back.

Your gasp barely leaves your lips before his hands are on your thighs, gripping, spreading you open like it’s his fucking right, pushing your knees toward your chest.

And then—no hesitation.

No questions asked, no smug teasing, no half-assed effort—just his fingers shoving your panties back to the side, replacing his cock with two thick fingers, burying them inside you like he already fucking knows you can taste it.

Your breath shatters. “Jesus—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, focused, dark eyes locked on your pussy as his fingers curl, stretching you open, pressing deep. “Not leaving you hanging.”

And fuck—fuck—his thumb.

Right there, dragging over your clit, pressing just right with slow, deliberate circles.

Your thighs twitch, your hands clenching in the couch cushions as your body jolts from the sudden shock of pleasure. “Oh—fuck—”

“That’s it,” he groans, gaze flicking up to watch your face, your wrecked fucking expression as he fingers you open. “Gimme that pretty little shake—know you’re close.”

You barely process your own whimper before he’s pressing in harder, thrusting his fingers faster, his thumb working you like he owns your orgasm.

“You think I’d leave you like that?” His voice is low, hushed, wrecked, pressing filthy into the space between you. “Think I’d fucking cum and not make you lose your mind, too?”

“Ro—”

“Nah, Phoenix.” His fingers drive into you, slick and obscene, thumb relentless. “You’re gonna cum all over my hand—” he leans in, breath warm against your throat, “and I’m gonna watch every fucking second of it.”

His fingers pump into you, wet and filthy, every slick thrust echoing between you. And god, the sounds are just so fucking obscene it makes you want to die a little.

“Come on, give it to me, Phee,” Jungkook rasps.

You can barely breathe. His thumb keeps dragging over your clit in these slow, devastating circles, the pressure just right, and your whole body is trembling, your thighs twitching where he holds them open.

“Listen to that,” he groans, gaze flicking down, mesmerized. “So fucking wet for me. Making a mess all over my hand.”

And then his mouth is on you again.

He latches onto your tit, sucking deep, tongue flicking over your nipple before pulling off just to groan against your skin. 

“God, your vanilla shit Phoenix. Makes you taste so good. Could suck on these all fucking day—”

“Jungkook—”

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” 

Your back arches, hands flying to grip his arms because—fuck—fuck. The pressure is too much, his fingers so deep, his mouth so hot, and you’re right there—right fucking there—

“That’s it,” he groans, hand drenched, your walls pulsing around his fingers. “Come on, give it to me.”

And then—

It hits.

Pleasure rips through you, fast and all-consuming.

And Jungkook—fucking Jungkook—just groans, watching you fall apart.

“Mm, yeah that’s it,” he mutters, fixated on the way you shake, the way your pussy flutters around his fingers, soaking his palm. “So fucking good, huh?”

His name slips out in a wrecked, shattered moan, and he loves it, enjoying every sound, drinking in every twitch and tremble.

He finally slows his movements as you shudder through the aftershocks, his fingers still deep, thumb pressing lazy circles to wring out every last second of it.

“Shit,” he murmurs, voice a little breathless, and when you manage to blink down at him, he’s staring at his own hand—glistening, messy, coated in you.

His throat works.

And then—his eyes flick back to yours.

And he fucking grins.

Jungkook collapses on top of you.

Full weight. No warning. Just dead fucking weight pressing you into the couch, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Oh my—get off!” You yelp, struggling beneath him, but he doesn’t budge.

“Nnngghh,” he groans into your neck, voice muffled, completely ignoring you. “Shut the fuck up and let me rest for five minutes.”

You blink up at the ceiling, absolutely fucking done. “Weren’t you sleeping, like, thirty minutes ago?”

“Your point?” His breath is warm against your skin, his body solid and heavy, still way too fucking hot from everything that just happened.

“My point,” you grumble, wiggling under him, “is that you’ve done literally nothing today except nut and nap, so why are you tired?”

“Because,” he mutters, arms tightening around your waist, “I’m a growing boy.”

You snort, smacking his bare back. “You’re a menace.”

He just hums, pressing his face into your neck like he’s about to fall asleep right there, and for a second, you let it happen—just breathing, the two of you still wrecked, bodies cooling down, silence stretching.

But then—

“Oh, shit—”

Jungkook jumps, suddenly wide awake, jolting upright so fast he nearly knocks you off the couch.

You blink up at him, still catching your breath. “What the fuck is wrong with you—”

“Wait—” He leans over you, hands on either side of your head, eyes huge and excited. “Do you have any toys?”

You stare at him. “What?”

“Toys,” he repeats, fully invested now. “Sex toys, Nix. I didn’t even think about it, but—fuck—I could’ve made you finish with one.”

You blink again, brain scrambling to catch up. “No?”

His brows furrow. “Why not?”

“Why would I—” You sit up slightly, pushing at his chest. “Do I look like I came here with a full-ass sex kit?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, genuinely baffled, “don’t you girls have dildos and shit?”

“Oh my fucking—” You shove his shoulder. “Do you really think when I was packing my shit to move in, I was like, ‘mmm, yeah, definitely need to bring my dildo’?”

His eyes narrow. “So you had one?”

“No—”

“So you’ve never had one?”

“No, Ro, my parents would’ve killed me.”

He pauses, frowning like he’s actually considering that for a second. Then, with absolutely zero hesitation—

“Okay, then we’re going toy shopping.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, no, fuck that.” He waves a hand, like this is a done deal, like you don’t even get a say. “You’re getting something. I refuse to believe you’ve gone your whole life without at least a vibrator. That’s a crime.”

“A crime?”

“Yes.” His face is serious, like this is a personal offense to him. “You deserve to cum even when I’m not here.”

“I don’t need you to cum.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Oh my fucking—” You drop your head back against the couch, groaning. “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m being a good friend.” He grins, smug as hell. “And an amazing fuck buddy.”

“We are not friends.”

He blinks. “What?”

“We’re not friends.” You cross your arms, looking him dead in the eye. “Fuck buddies. No friends.”

Jungkook gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you just deeply wounded him. “That hurts.”

“You’ll live.”

“Aren’t we, like, friends with benefits or something?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Fuck buddies. No friends. Just the benefits.”

“That’s the stupidest logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Coming from Mr. Stupid himself? Woah.”

“Pft. Right.” He stretches, cracking his neck, still grinning like an idiot. “Then we’re going this weekend.”

“To what?”

“Buy you a vibrator.”

“Fuck you.”

“Bet.”

You swat at him, grin still on his face and all. 

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[atheostic]

@ray-moo

1. Okay, let's assume for the sake of argument that we all agree that embryos are humans.

What about the rights of the pregnant human to decide who can have access to their body? Why do their rights cease to matter?

Why does the embryo have special rights a born human doesn't? A born human does not have the right to use another human's body without their consent. Even if it's a life or death situation. Even parents can't be compelled to give organs or blood to their child if they don't want to.

Even corpses have to have previous authorization to be used. So by taking away a person's right to an abortion you're literally giving people with uteruses less rights than a corpse.

2. Basic math is on the side of abortions being legal being a net positive, even if you're pro-life.

a) Less people die when abortion is legal.

We know for a fact, based on both modern and historical stats, that abortions will happen regardless of legality. The only difference is that, when illegal, people getting abortions are far more likely to die (and die in horrifically painful ways at that).

Illegal abortions are so deadly that in Zambia  69% of the respondents of a study on the topic knew one or more women who had died from an unsafe illegal abortion.

Leading causes of death are haemorrhage, infection, and poisoning from substances used to induce abortion.

In contrast, modern legal abortion is one of the safest procedures in contemporary medical practice, with case-fatality rates less than one patient death per 100,000 procedures.

So if we assume an embryo is a person and knowing abortions will happen, the choice is between two people dying or one person dying.

If you're pro-life, the choice where less people die should be a no-brainer.

But let's say you don't care about the people getting abortions because they're "murderers"...

b) Studies find that abortion numbers go down when abortion is legalized.

So if even if we were to agree that embryos are babies, infant death numbers go down when abortion is legalized.

In fact, maternal mortality rates also go down significantly when abortion is legalized. The year after abortion was legalized in New York State, the maternal-mortality rate there dropped by 45%. This is likely because people who are too young to safely carry a baby to term or who have medical issues that make pregnancy dangerous can get an abortion instead of being forced to become a parent, meaning that dangerous pregnancies aren't forced to continue.

3. If people truly cared about the would-be babies they'd be pro things that help make children thrive, like free school lunches.

Yet most of them aren't.

I think all pro-lifers should be raped, forced to have the baby (no exceptions), and become forced to raise it for 18-20 years just to see how it feels