#literally there is something wrong with you what the fuck is your goddamn problem

[ociels]

genuinely how petty can you be

[ivysprophecy]

slim pickins

warnings; bad date? mentions of sex, cursing underage drinking and yes i meant for it to be written poorly i was trying to keep the humor of the album in the writing

masterlist | p. 2

no pressure tags; @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake

word count; 1911

summary; youre tired of not finding a decent guy who will treat you right and lay you right. at least not one you've known since you were kids. however you just cant help yourself. besides its slim pickins out here you take what you can get.

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

i wanna make one thing clear, when i say there are no good guys left i do not wanna hear about you and your boyfriend of three years that can cook and loves your mom.

thats exactly what im talking about maddie!!! i dont give two fucks that he took you to barnes and noble and bought you every book you wanted.

they are all taken. its plain and simple.

which is why even with a full roster, im stuck taking fucking zander, yes with a z, to my friends' kegger.

i mean yea hes cute. hes tall, built but not that gross kind of muscly. but if were being real i shouldve known better when he was joking about being a male stripper when hes a ginger.

and i can tell kie is judging me, rightfully so. her side eye is lethal. when i introduced him to everyone she asked him about his greta van fleet tee and he said he didn't even know it was a band.

needless to say pope had to drag her away.

after that incident i decided it was best if we tried to talk away from the rest of the group. boy was i wrong.

"so what do you like to drink? ill go grab us something," i offer trying to start the conversation, also avoiding the usual problem with taking a drink from men.

"im good with whatever"

i like to think im not a violent person, but im about to be.

"does a beer sound okay?" i ask him grabbing a twisted tea for me from the cooler.

"sure thing." god why is he acting like such a bitch? i should ask him if he's on his period.

i hand him the can, our fingers brush and its my final clue for the night that i am definitely not going home with him. no spark at all. hes done just about everything else to piss me off.

he did the thing where he licks his lips exaggeratingly looking me up and down, making a point to make sure i saw.

he walks so slow for being 6'3.

and finally he tried to mansplain my career to me. i'd had just enough when he opens his mouth again

"ew, you like twisted tea? who likes sweet tea?" his face contorted in disgust, it was about to contort from my fist breaking his goddamn nose if he keeps talking to me like this.

"we literally live in the south dude." my face could not make it any clearer i am so done with this guy.

"still, sweet tea is disgusting. im not kissing anyone that drinks that nasty shit."

"who said i wanted to kiss your nasty fucking mou-" i was interrupted by the sound of a very familiar giggle behind me as his arm wrapped around my shoulder, the smell of his deodorant and sea salt that cover his skin start to put you at ease.

jj was always there when you needed him, sometimes even when you didnt but right now you couldn't be more grateful. "im glad you found those mama i got em just for you. remembered theyre your favorite. right?"

and you wanna know the best part? zander is shaking already pissed off that jj is at my side. territorial i guess.

"you mind?" he asks him nodding his head at me like im not even there.

jj cant help but laugh at him "yea bud i do mind. she's hanging out with me tonight. have fun with your ipa dick." and with that he steers us off to where the rest of the pogues are.

but not before i can look over my shoulder and give the ginger an innocent smile and a shrug as if i had no control over the situation, when really id pick jj over anyone else.

"you owe me a big fat kiss mama," jj whispers in my ear walking us over to where our friends are standing, drinks in their hands laughing and chatting up a storm.

"in your dreams honey."

"every night all night," he quips back before i shove him off me.

now before you give me shit, jj and i have had our fair share of fun, but unfortunately im starting to look for something more serious.

watching john b and sarah be disgusting together is getting to my head. popes got something going on with cleo and im starting to recognize the pattern. and before i know it everyone will be in love if i don't start making an effort in that department.

random casual hook ups aren't doing it anymore, especially considering they aren't even that good.

unless theyre with jj.

but hes not an option, theres too much drama. too much history. too much too much too much. im not what he needs and i know for a fact he doesn't want me in that sense.

is that a bit dramatic? probably.

i mean hes a great lay, he's hilarious, he's got that blue collar kind of muscle, and he genuinely cares about me.

so of course im not going to date him, why would i?

what do you mean make good decisions? id rather do things in the most difficult way possible!

"y/n youve gotta stop giving those guys a chance, im starting to feel bad for you."

"you try finding a decent guy in a ten mile radius." i glare at him, obviously not wanting to joke about this right now.

he sticks his hand out in front of me, "fine i will. let me see your phone."

curious to see what he will do i hand it too him unlocked, he swipes and taps for a few moments, smiling down at the phone before handing it back to you.

when you look back down at the screen all you see is your instagram open with his stupid fucking smiley face on the screen.

he took a picture of himself and posted to my story. written on the screen in bubble letters in my favorite colored heart 'my favorite guy <3'

"i think he's your best bet." that same smile facing back at me now, cockier than ever. so smug i wanna kiss it off his face

i cant help but roll my eyes. "jj im serious! at this rate im going to die alone. every decent guy is taken or unavailable. all i want is someone funny, kind, and attractive is that too much to ask for?"

"im right in front of you mama you dont gotta look far."

"jj we both know we're not the serious kind of relationship im talking about."

"you can think what you want too but ill be here waiting for that kiss you owe me."

"i think all that tequila youve been sipping has gone to your head maybank."

he stands in front of me, taking his signature red cap off his head and putting it on mine smiling down at me, "what do they say in those books you read? you wear the hat you ride the cowboy?"

"this no ten gallon hat and you are no cowboy."

we laugh at each other, its always been easier to do that then actually talk about our feelings. so i put his hat back on his head, backwards the way he i likes it.

"cmon y/n/n, have a few more drinks, relax and hang out and ill make you feel all better later yea? its what im best at, you know."

"its gonna take more than a few more teas to convince me jj"

"what about that thing you like that i do with my tongue, huh mama? doesnt that sound pretty good right now? i think it does."

"i give you one fucking compliment and it goes straight to your head."

"technically its about my head so that makes perfect sense," he hands me another can with that stupid signature smirk of his and his stupid sexy hat backwards. i hate to admit it's working on me.

just like it does every other time.

i squint my eyes at him taking the can, rolling the idea around in my head. "fuck it. its not like anyone else is offering," i take a big sip of my drink.

jj pumps his fist in the air like a victorious idiot giving a few woots and hollars before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder despite my wishes.

"jb!!" he shouts turning around to face him, "we're headed out!"

john b looks at the two of us shaking his head at how im kicking my feet to wiggle out of jjs oddly strong grip. "make sure you change the sheets when youre done!"

oh my god he did not just say that. "fuck both of you!"

jj just laughs carrying you back to the chateau like a kid who's excited to use a brand new birthday present.

"what happened to letting me have a few more drinks before we left??"

"youre just too irresistable mama, gotta have you now,' he gives my ass a light slap for good measure causing me to roll my eyes for the 600th time tonight.

"are you gonna put me down now?"

he pretends to look like hes thinking about it, "i guess. only so i can watch you walk away," he does as he says helping me get my feet on the ground.

"youre a pervert."

"no im flirtatious, and you love it, you know it makes you blush i see it. now go on and give me a lil walk yea?"

oh im gonna kill him...

oh wait! im gonna kill him!

"okay... fine. but no touching until we get home," i smile walking away exactly like he asked, but i know behind me he is a puddle of mud. standing still, about to start begging me to let him.

he finally catches up after a few seconds "mama please- cmon thats not fair. you look too good in those shorts you know i cant wait that long. just wanna feel you."

i cant help but giggle at his words, its honestly adorable how mopey he gets. like i just kicked his puppy or something.

"hands of jj i mean it... not until that door shuts behind us."

it didn't really matter that i can see the chateau or that ill be there in literally a minute.

its actually painful for jj to not be able to touch me as he pleases.

i turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. "you want me maybank?"

and of course he nods so hard it looks like his head is going to fall right off.

"come and get me," running towards the house, i can see the moment when his reflexes kick in, his boots thudding against the ground as he gains on me.

just before i can make it to the poarch jj wraps his arms around me, lifting me a few inches off the ground and spinning me around in a fit of laughter.

"okay! okay okay okay you win- you got me."

"oh ive got you mama, and im havin you for the rest of the fucking night," he presses a kiss to my neck hauling me inside, the screen door slamming shut after us.

am i gonna regret this tomorrow? most likely.

but what can i say? its slim pickins in this part of town.

[angelsforthenight]

MRS. AND MRS. SMITH — abby anderson x fem!reader

ways you can help gaza 🇵🇸

do not buy tlou2 remastered!

a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why they’re wives :3

you’re an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, you’re pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know it’ll get under abby’s skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.

cw: mdni, owen feature🤮🤮, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.

“short brown hair, rugged beard. got that?” abby’s murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece you’ve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.

see, any other day, you would’ve loved to hear your wife’s pretty little voice guiding you — her praises when you’d do something right or her degrades if you’d do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.

but not today. today you’re over it. so what do you respond with?

“yeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.” you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so that’s exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.

that’s right, you two are at a charity gala event. it’s fancy. too fancy to the point where it’s intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that you’re complaining. you’re sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever you’d get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.

your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.

you’re planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe you’re going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.

“found him yet?” abby sighs.

“please don’t distract me.” there’s way too many people and it’s beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.

“i’m getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.” she complains.

“not my goddamn problem.” you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if there’s not enough time, worrying if he’s even here in the first place.

“literally what is your problem? acting extra fuckin’ snobby tonight...”

your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.

“let’s not fucking start—“ you’re about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!

“oh shit. sorry, i didn’t mean that.” you hear a man’s voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.

despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.

“it’s okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?” you bat your eyelashes, hoping you don’t look silly.

“and what’s that?” owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. he’s already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.

with a few drinks, owen’s already tipsy and you’re leading him to the vast room. you make him believe you’re just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade — feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, it’s also never not exhilarating.

you’re about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.

“woah.” you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. “we go at my pace.”

“aww… please?” he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but he’s now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.

“come on… don’t play hard to get.” he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebody’s arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.

“what—“ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abby’s arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. it’s unnerving.

it doesn’t take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.

“what the fuck, abby…” you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“there’s doors.” she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadn’t even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget you’re supposed to be mad at her.

the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. “you starin’? assumed pussy boys were more your type.”

“real fucking mature.” you snarl. “i had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.”

“you were taking too long.” abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.

“jealousy? really? grow up.”

“at least i watch where i’m going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.” she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didn’t offend you.

“you’re a fucking child. help me with the body.”

you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend that’s had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.

for now, you’re sat on the passenger’s seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abby’s driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. she’s obviously fuming.

“can you slow down?” you glare at her.

“you owe me… i mean, who even says that?” abby grumbles, ignoring your request.

“a lot of people do. now slow down, we don’t wanna attract attention from police knowing there’s a dead body back there.”

“not to mention that you’ve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.”

abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. “owen.” you correct, “you’re so self absorbed!” you continue to beg for her to slow down.

“he’s, like, the embodiment of revolting too. don’t even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i should’ve put a bullet in his brain.” abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.

“you were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.” she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.

“abby. abby!” you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.

“fuck.” abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.

“just what the hell is the matter with you?” you scold, “all this shit over a mission? are you serious?” abby’s lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.

“of course we’re going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known you’d be acting like this then i would’ve never—“

“why didn’t you kiss him?” abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.

“i…” you look away. you’re not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldn’t kiss him because of her. “where even are we anyway?”

“nice try. since you’re so professional, why didn’t you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you could’ve easily killed him then.” the corner of abby’s lips arch up into a smirk — the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.

“for someone who’s had so much to say just a second ago…” she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, “…you’re awfully quiet.” her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear you’re beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“look, abby, you’re my wife… so…” you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.

“don’t play dumb and pretend as if the agency didn’t arrange that.” her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?” her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too — reminding you that she’s got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abby’s car, pretty fucking hot.

“let’s face it…” abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.

“you want me so bad it hurts.” her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. it’s beginning to ache down there and it seems like abby’s aware of that. you can’t help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that it’s suffocating.

you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.

“maybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.” you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.

“maybe you need to fix your attitude.” abby retorts, “like, seriously, pipe down… you’re probably soaking down there.” she snickers, right on the money.

“fuck you.” you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe you’re saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know that’s not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abby’s skin. it’s what you’ve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.

you wipe the pleased look off of abby’s face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.

abby’s eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. you’re quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent can’t even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.

desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.

“hurry… with your slow-ass.” you whine.

“watch your fucking mouth. c’mere.” abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress — not without making sure to go deliberately slow.

“why do you have to be so mean?” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“oh, trust me… i’m only gonna be meaner.” she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. you’ve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel she’s going to treat you in a second.

once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. it’s her favourite thing in the entire world.

“turn around.” abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.

“what?”

“just do it.”

you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.

“now… bend over.” she coos, clearly poking fun.

you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. “what am i, your dog?”

“don’t piss me off.”

you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.

“arching that back and everything… wooow.” abby teases, “and to think i haven’t even touched you yet.”

“oh, just fuck off, abby…” you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.

“what was that?”

“i said fuck—“ but you’re cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.

“mm? didn’t quite hear you. repeat yourself.” abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abby’s humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? you’re enjoying this way more than you should be.

“i’m not kidding. speak.” abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, it’s a fucking party down there.

“abby…” you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.

“go on babe… finish what you were saying before.” abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. you’re trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.

see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.

another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.

“you wanna get fucked?” abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.

“use your words.”

“y-yes…” tears begin to stream down your face. you’re desperate, yearning for her touch as if it’s a life or death situation.

“so finish what you were saying.” her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.

“i-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didn’t… haa… mean it.” you splutter. the you a while ago would’ve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.

“where’d all your attitude go?” the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. she’s touching you but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough: abby knows that.

“don’t do this to me, abby…” you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if you’ve been dumbed down.

abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. “you look stupid.”

“shut up and fuck me.” you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what you’ve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.

before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal, if it wasn’t for abby’s hand still clenched on your cheeks.

“this what you wanted?” abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.

“oh! riiiiight, you can’t speak.” she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how she’s handling you like a doll.

abby’s finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.

“suck.” you mindlessly do as she says, as if you’re brainwashed. you can see abby’s cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.

abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didn’t think you’d actually do it.

“you’re shy.” you point out. you triumph over the fact that now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.

“shut the fuck up.” abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.

that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.

“nothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.” and she’s right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what she’s seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.

“i’m cumming…” you manage to choke out.

“i know.” abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.

“i’ll decide to be nice and let you finish.”

and that’s your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. you’re panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.

“so cute…” she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you — this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.

so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how you’re in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how you’re gonna clean up the mess you’ve left all over the chair and dashboard.

a/n: you made it !!! thought it’d be funny if the target was owen😭😭 hope u enjoyed reading <3

[hencheri]

I can't think of any members but who do you think would like to do daddykink/ddlg from wayv?

a member who loves to take care of their partner in every way and will not care if there is an age difference

18+ minors dni.

pairing: kun/ten/hendery x fem!reader

warnings: age gap, manipulation, humiliation, daddy kink (no ddlg sorry), noncon for dery, loss of virginity.

kun

not mentioning him would be madness, so i'm doing it. he'd love being called gege, and it especially hits different when it's a girl 6-7 years younger than him because he does feel a little guilty for liking it so much. at first, you call him gege because he's your elder but it's never too innocent. what business does kun have for thinking about you — a 21 year old — like that?

but kun gets over the shame pretty fast once he gets a taste of your pussy. one thing he still can't get over is the nickname — which will never not be inappropriate coming out of your whiny little mouth. you're his little princess, his most precious thing in the world. the age doesn't matter, and if he has to be honest, it's what makes it exciting. thrilling. it's what makes his cock so fucking stiff because goddamn, the thought of destroying a tiny, inexperienced cunt like yours will always be his guilty pleasure.

he doesn't expect the others to understand, they have no say in his relationship anyway. if he loves you, what's the problem? he'll care for you, provide and protect, he doesn't need a reason, it's what he's meant to do.

kun maybe has perverted intentions regarding you when he demands to be called gege no matter where you are, manipulating you by saying you should always refer to him as such, he's your elder. "well behaved girls know this, they listen to their older boyfriend and don't refuse them what they want."

ten

ofc ten is on this list. why wouldn't he be? he's the kind to make jokes about it, call himself "ten daddy" until he really can't fuck anyone without being referred as such. "what's my name? no, wrong answer, love," he'd tease you because he loves how flustered you become. he's so incredibly teasing about it and that's probably the aspect he likes the most about being called daddy. him being much older than you, much experienced and mature, he finds it adorable and almost laughable to have you call him daddy.

ten is a dom i just think daddy kink is something he'll dive into naturally. he likes being domineering, and he's a huge tease at the same time, he'd probably make you call him daddy in public in front of everyone just because it makes him laugh. acting oblivious of the small calls of his name, pretending he doesn't hear you until you address him as ten daddy. the others can't help but laugh of course, making you extremely embarrassed, exactly the result ten wanted.

he really doesn't see your relationship the same way kun would, but the age gap he doesn't care about it at all. it's amusing to him to have a younger girlfriend because he just can plant any thoughts he wants in your pretty head and you won't even question it. you're so gullible he finds it sweet and he doesn't even hide how big of a manipulator he is.

hendery

i don't think he would want to be called daddy or have a young girlfriend, however... you would coerce him into it. sorry. "come on, dery, it's only 5 years... what are you so afraid of? i'm a big girl," you'd say to him while literally humping his bulge, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, trying so hard to resist the temptation to fuck the shit out of you.

hendery's dick has a mind of its own, but he still has some morals, rules he can't cross — even though it's becoming very difficult to respect them when he has you grinding on him like a deprived little slut. he can't just indulge in sex with someone like you, you're too damn young, what would the others think? what if he regrets it? what if you regret it? but something tells him you wouldn't. not once.

when you attempt to kiss him once again, expecting him to move him head away, he finally loses it and pins your body down. at this right moment he thinks that young or not, you fucking deserved his cock defiling your stupidly tiny cunt. so when you cry to him you're a virgin does he stop? no. you begged for him, you begged for this exactly, and he didn't imagine any of it. you were dry-humping him and trying to kiss him, so you will own up to the consequences of your actions.

but let's be honest, that's what you wanted and you're more than pleased of the turn of events. "thought you were a big girl. what happened to her, huh?" you're quite proud of the crocodile tears dripping from your eyes, mumbling "i'm sorry," as your pussy is totally creaming hendery's cock. he doesn't stop when "daddy" slips out of your lips, he wants to ignore it the first couple of times you cry it, but the more he hears you calling him daddy, the harder he cums into you.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[lucystark12]

milevens are insane

warning now - i get extremely heated in this so if you're going to tell me to calm down leave. before any of you weird bitches tell me to go do something more productive or to touch grass- no. i'm fifteen, it's summer, and i'm a highly involved high school student. i'm not here because i have nothing better to do, i'm here because i understand good writing and am able to have hobbies ❤️

anyways

was on the mileven endgame hashtag just now and because i don't choose violence i wont be addressing any of them directly, but i will be addressing some of the ridiculous bullshit on there. term bullshit used intentionally

the love confession came as a result of mike "gaining the confidence" to tell el how much he loves her because he was afraid that he loved her more than she loved him.

are you listening to the words that are coming out of your mouth right now? i want to sit down and get a coffee with you and dissect what the fuck you meant by that. sure, right, yeah, he gained so much PRODUCTIVE confidence from his conversation he had with will where will was using eleven to mask his own feelings for mike. it makes so much sense narratively that this end all be all mileven event is sparked from will's feelings and not mikes! sure! right! this is such an idiotic piece of reasoning. you are literally saying that you are okay with your endgame ship only being endgame based on faulty communication and lies. are you joking? "you just gotta improve your motivation" ass piece of evidence

also, mike being insecure about loving her more than she loves him is complete, total, utter bullshit. el frequently expresses her love to mike via letters and youre here to say that mike would have any problem with doing the same thing if he were insecure about her love for him? that literally makes no sense. i wouldn't be afraid of loving somebody more than they love me if they are actively putting more effort into insuring me that they love me than i am to them. like, what does that even mean?

“Will Byers is a pathetic loser annoying character and contributed little to the plot of ST. "

yes that is a direct quote. no i'm not kidding.

what kind of fucking neanderthal watches stranger fucking things- a show about a kid who disappears- and thinks the kid who disappears isn't a central part of the narrative? the first episode of the goddamn show is called "the vanishing of will byers"! maybe this is hard for you and your confused brain to get your head around, but el and mike met when mike was out looking FOR WILL. mike and el are still together because mike gained courage from WILL'S LOVE FOR HIM. what a fucking idiot you must be. i would try to explain to you the myriad of other reasons why will is absolutely central to the plot of the show, but since the show itself has clearly gone in one ear and out the other, i probably wont be able to get through to you either.

“what if we learned to cope with world that doesn’t accept us as individuals by embracing each other completely?” said about mileven

um.. what. that's literally byler. closeted gay guys in the 80s. but sure, the ones that aren't being accepted are the two white and allegedly heterosexual individuals. the "world that doesn't accept us" in question is a few high school bullies in comparison with the stigmatization, violence, and ostracization that has longstanding been a part of what it means to be queer. be so serious right now. mileven is not important for being non conformist, the GAY SHIP IN THE 80S IS!!

“The only people who queerbaited, was byler fans themselves lmao.”

even if we're ignoring the horrible grammar there are still SO many things wrong with everything that was just said. what they're saying above for anybody who can't decipher the weird medieval english code this person is using is that bylers actively queerbaited themselves which inherently makes no sense at all.

below i have included the oxford dictionary definition of queerbaiting: "the incorporation of apparently gay characters or same-sex relationships into a film, television show, etc. as a means of appealing to gay and bisexual audiences while maintaining ambiguity about the characters' sexuality."

how is it possible that byler shippers themselves are the ones doing the queerbaiting? are we running the show? nope! before you come on and post something as offensive as this- which i will get into- at least make sure you know what you're saying. xoxo

to insinuate for even a second that mike wheeler not being gay would be anything other than deliberate queerbaiting is insane. there is something wrong with you. aside from the parts of the show where his queerness is deliberately alluded to like music, costuming, analogies, allegories, and set design, netflix has been, weather you like it or not, actively marketing in favor of byler and mike not being straight. all below come from official netflix accounts-

how is this not queerbaiting? genuinely what are you on about. this is literally textbook.

“will is fruity but mike didn't like the fruit on his pizza”

you seriously are basing your argument about mike not being gay on him not liking fruit on pizza? you seriously think that some of the most commended and celebrated writers of the last decade would use symbolism involving a word that can literally be interpreted as a slur when their show has two characters who are canonically a part of the group affected said slur? are you fucking stupid? that was harmless banter used to communicate the differences in habitual action across the country. it wasn't the duffers trying to do for you what they do for us in deliberate, straightforward NON-OFFENSIVE symbolism.

i saw somebody claim that mike's character arc in season four was inherently about not believing in his self worth nor in his competency to be in a relationship with el

while i do for the most part agree with you, i'm going to ask you a question- mike was never anxious about his identity and self worth involving el before season four. why do you think that just came up now if not for the fact that he's been having insecurities involving his sexuality and romantic attraction to women as a whole? in my opinion, mike realized that he might not like girls in that way circa the end of season three- a realization that only festered and grew through the absence of not only the boy he loves that is causing this insecurity but the girl whom he is using as a way to say hey, i can't be gay, i have a girlfriend! mike was clearly going through some serious emotional struggles as we can immediately see in this scene with how suddenly awkward he is with will and the immediate emphasis that's put on the "from mike" on the flowers.

i agree that his season four and part of his season five arc are about his feelings of insecurity about being in a relationship with el, however, i don't think he's insecure because he thinks she's better than him in the sense that she's some superhero, i think he thinks she's better than him because he knows that he'll never be able to love her the way she deserves to be loved. he's not going to outright come and say to will that he doesn't think that he can love her in the way she deserves to be loved. he's closeted. what he says in the van scene is the only way he knows to express his feelings. it's very similar to what will does in the same scene. it makes no sense for this insecurity to randomly manifest in him if it wasn't for an external factor that doesn't involve el, because nothing has really changed with the dynamic of their relationship other than the move. one could argue that mike is feeling insecure over el's supposed popularity she claims to have in her letters, but mike's arc has never been about caring about popularity in school. that's not something on his mind so much as the grand scheme of the world is. lets not forget that he joins hellfire in season four.

“When Mike didn’t say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative. When Mike did say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative.”

you literally sound like trump going on about the democrats. listen to what your saying right now. also, it's a ship name. there's no need to censor it you fucking weirdo.

wasted time building up mileven

i'm sorry, what build up? i'm confused. there's no "build up". THIS is build up:

above is will, possessed by a monster who feeds off of those lacking love in their lives, only being able to be broken out of possession by a heartfelt monologue by the PERSON HE LOVES detailing how the best decision he ever made was to befriend him.

above is will claiming he will never fall in love, then his love for one of the other main characters becomes a central plot point of the two seasons to come. joyce and i see through will and all of you weird milevens

mike telling will how it's not his fault will doesn't like girls only after he loses the person he's been using to cover up his own insecurity about the same thing- not liking girls. suspicious.

will's LOVE FOR MIKE being the thing to give him the confidence to help el SAVE THE WORLD, only episodes after we establish that mike is bound to be pissed that he was lied to. and theres no buildup? THERE'S REALLY NO BUILDUP?

if you don't see buildup i fear you are literally just a lost cause because it is so painfully obvious to anybody who made it past seventh grade english class that there is something deeper and more intimate than friendship going on between will byers and mike wheeler.

“Women can be independent while being in a relationship guys😭!!”

OBVIOUSLY! i am literally the biggest feminist on the entire western seaboard. i couldn't agree more with this, which is why we have arcs like nancy's where she actively becomes more independent while still maintaining a relationship with jonathan. the difference is that mike and el have been together since they were like thirteen. when el was immersed into the real world for the first time in season two she immediately leaned on mike for support in that. it's not that she can only be independent on her own, it's that mike is directly symbolic to her of a time when she was stumbling around the world with naivete and not quite knowing how to navigate that. by spreading her wings away from that relationship, it will not only give her independence, but also a way to see beyond the barriers of hawkins and a life where she was valued mostly for the qualities she brings to the supernatural equation. el's arc is one of my favorites. i would never claim such a thing and discredit the essence of what makes the emotions behind her character so interesting. she's somebody who was literally raised in a lab. she shouldn't be held back by somebody she is quite literally dependent on.

last but not least, i saw a post that said milevens always win.

"are you sure about that?" i ask, noah schnapp's most recent instagram post open on my phone, finn wolfhard's spotify playlist in my headphones, my mike holding will's painting funko on the desk in front of me, wearing a yellow shirt with a blue sweater over it.

thank u for listening to my ted talk 💙💛

[marvelnatr]

Mistaken 18+

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Smut, strap on use, fingering, oral r receiving, mocking, praising, spanking, dacyrphilia, sub!reader, dom!Nat, daddy kink, friends with benefits.

Background: You and Yelena are friends with benefits, you decided to spend the night at her house

Your POV:

“f-fuck what’s gotten into you? Y-You’re fucking me so much harder than usual”. My hands gripped onto my best friends shoulders. Her hips continuing to thrust into me. I had slipped into her bed a little under an hour ago. It was two am at the time and the house was pitch black. After feeling my way through the room I had pulled at her, begging her to fuck me. Moaning into the darkness of the room I leaned over her, riding her strap “s-shit youre gonna make me cum”. Her thrusts quickened as her grip on my hips tightened. The coil in my belly snapping while I screamed out “f-fuck Yel!”. My orgasm washed over me as my body shook. Immediately I felt her hips still. Her body was damn near frozen. Before I could open my mouth to ask what the problem is the light was flipped on. My eyes adjusting to the new found brightness in the room. My brain almost failed to process the person in front of me. Almost…..I fucked the wrong person.

Natasha’s emerald green eyes stared at mine as panic washed over my body. I fucked my best friends sister. Smirking at me she teased “you’re soaking my sisters bed”. Stuttering a little I began to get up, trying to collect the last bit of my dignity “I-I thought you were Yelena”. Rolling her eyes Natasha sat up on her elbows “fucking relax would you? You’d think the goddamn orgasm would loosen you up.”. My face flushed an unmistakable shade of red at the thought. The orgasm she gave me was fucking mind blowing. Watching me she sighed. Sitting herself up she placed her hand on my thigh “you’re okay, I’m sorry Y/N. I seriously thought you knew it was me”. Shaking my head no I watched her. Her hand lightly ran up and down my thigh “what can I do for your aftercare?”.

Natasha’s POV:

A small mumble fell from Y/N’s mouth, barely audible as she asked for water. Getting up I grabbed it for her and watched her. Y/N’s lips wrapped around the bottle as she drank. After a few moments of awkward silence she placed the bottle on the nightstand and watched me “what now?”, putting my hair up I whispered “well I have to change the sheets we made a mess of, and I wanna make sure you’re okay”. Nodding she played with the corner of the blanket, thinking of a response “I’m okay, just a little sore”. Smirking a bit I nodded “a good sore I assume?”. Y/N shyly nodded, a smile pulling at the corners of my lips as I helped her up “good, I’m glad. Sit here while I change the sheets okay?” Y/N nodded “okie”

By the time I finished changing the sheets Y/N had fallen asleep. Her form curled up into the chair. I’ve always liked Y/N, she just had something different about her. I gently picked her up and laid her in the bed, covering her with the blanket and turning off the lights. I decided to stay in the room and do some work while she slept. I didn’t wanna leave her but I didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable by laying in bed with her.

- Time Skip -

It had been two months since Y/N’s and I’s little encounter. On several occasions I would catch her staring at me. Studying my lips. My hands. My figure. As time went on sexual tension grew. Her eyes followed me throughout the room whatever the occasion. It was another night of Tonys parties. I swear this man throws a party for literally anything. I preferred to be behind the bar. I enjoyed making the drinks and having a barrier between me and all the other people. Y/N approached the counter. Sometime during the evening she had taken off her blazer, her maroon button up was buttoned up to all but one, revealing a bit of cleavage. “What can I get you detka?” A small smile painted her face “a rum and coke please” nodding I watched her “when have you last had water?”. Y/N’s teeth caught the bottom of her lip, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought. Sighing I put down the rum and began filling the glass with water and holding it out for her to take “if you have to think about it it’s been too long, take it”. Shaking her head she politely declined “no thank you I’m okay” tilting my head I placed the glass in front of her “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it sounded like a suggestion. Drink the water Y/N”.

After a few moments she began to drink. Taking small sips as she watched me. After drinking about half she slid the glass to me, signaling she was done. Shaking my head I nodded to it “nope. Finish it” rolling her eyes a little in annoyance she picked up the glass, downing the liquid and staring at me. Clenching my jaw I watched her “drop the attitude”. Raising her eyebrows at me she countered “make me”. A proud smirk fell along her face. Happy with her witty little comeback. I for one did not find it funny. Coming around the bar I stood in front of her. “Say it again darling”, Y/N’s eyes fell to the ground, her cheeks heating up. Grabbing her jaw I brought her chin up, a small shaky breath left her lips as I challenged her again “go on, say it again pretty girl”. Shaking her head a bit Y/N whispered “no thank you”. Nodding I narrowed my eyes at her, rubbing the side of her chin “then what do we say?”. Blushing hard she whispered “I’m sorry for being rude”. Smiling I rubbed her cheek “good girl”

I watched as she rubbed her legs together. A smirk tugging at my lips “what’s wrong darling?”. Embarrassment flooded her face as she whispered “I-I’m wet”. Nodding I rubbed her jaw “is that so? I can help you with that. I know you want it love, you cant keep your eyes off me”. Melting a little in front of me she squirmed “I-I” chuckling I held her jaw, mocking her slightly “I-I. Oh what baby? You know I’m right hm?” Nodding she whispered “p-please help me”.

Picking her up I brought her to my room, her back made contact with the bed accompanied by a small squeak. Leaning over her I watched her “are you sure Y/N?” catching her breath she nodded “p-please fuck me”. Smirking a little I rubbed her thighs “please? Are you begging pretty girl” whimpering a bit she squirmed, strained forearms reached for me, the desperation flooding her eyes “p-please don’t tease me”. Lifting her dress gently I rubbed her legs “you’re beautiful my darling, I’m going to take my time with you”. Tearing up her hips bucked “b-but”. Pulling Y/N close to me I watched her eyes “ah ah ah, I am going to take my time. Cry all you want love, I find your tears so pretty”. Her cheeks flushed red as she continued to squirm.

After a few more minutes of teasing I flipped her on her stomach. By this point her panties had come off and tears of desperation were steadily flowing. bringing my fingers back up to trace her inner thighs I smiled at her “hi pretty girl”. A whimper fell from her lips “p-please Nat” chuckling a little I teased “please what princess?”. A cry fell from her lips “p-please daddy fuck me”. A satisfied smile pulled at the corners of my mouth “daddy hm?”. Blushing red she nodded. I wrapped her hair in my fist and pulled her up flush against my chest, a small whimper escaped her throat. She sounded so pretty with the little noises she made. Gripping her neck I whispered quietly in her ear “say it again”. Gasping a little she spoke again, her voice slightly strained from the pressure on her neck “p-please daddy”. Smiling I let her back down as I landed a harsh smack to her ass, dragging out the words I used to praise her “good girl”.

My hand made its way to between her thighs. Her ass propped up from the pillow I had slid under her hips. Grabbing a handful of each of her thighs I held them open, my fingertips making small indents in her flesh. Y/N’s pussy glistened with arousal, her juices leaking from her untouched and desperate hole. Licking one long strip her taste flooded my mouth. And my fucking god she tasted divine, like strawberries. A moan escaped her lips as my mouth latched around her sensitive bud, sucking slightly as she moaned and squirmed. Digging my fingers in a little I held her still while I slid my tongue into her cunt. “f-fuck daddy”, smirking I started tongue fucking her. Y/N’s breathing quickened as she got closer to the edge. I pulled my tongue out right before she fell over it, earning another cry from her “n-no! p-please stop teasing”. Chuckling I rubbed her ass “oh detka”, Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration as she turned to get up to look at me, mu hand stopping her efforts as I pushed her back into the mattress “stay down. I didn’t tell you you could get up”. Squeaking out she squirmed “y-yes daddy” nodding I ran my fingers along her slit “good girl. Look at you, obeying commands so well”.

Before she could say thank you I pushed two of my fingers into her cunt. Her velvety walls clenched around my digits “oh my, you’re so tight detka”. Her mouth closed from her silent moan and turned into a whimper “p-please”, smiling I rubbed her thigh “don’t worry love, daddy will fix it”. Opening my fingers a little I began to stretch her out, a string of moans fell from her lips as her hips bucked up into the air from the stimulation “f-fucking hell”. Smiling I began to stroke her g-spot with my fingertips. Her soft moans quickly turning into cries and screams of pleasure “h-holy shit”, chuckling I started fucking her faster “yeah? You like that baby? You’re taking me so well”. Her walls tightened around my fingers as her breathing picked up. Strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead “p-please”. Leaning over her I went faster “please what darling?”. Whimpering Y/N watched me “c-cum”. Taking my thumb I rolled it over her clit “cum for me baby”

Arching her back she came hard. Her body shaking and riding through her orgasm “shhhhh good girl, you did so well”, her breathing slowed as her cum ran down my forearm, the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Gently pulling my fingers out I sucked the liquid off my fingers. Moaning at her taste as she panted under me. After a few minutes she calmed down, my hand rubbed her hip gently as I turned her over, brushing the strands of hair from her sweaty forehead “good girl princess, I’ve got you”. Pulling her small form into me I pet the side of her head and let her rest.

[hungharrington]

Could you write some smut of Steve with a girl who’s insecure about her thick thighs and he’s like obsessed with them

thank u for the request honey! hope this is okay <3 1.3k. warnings: afab!reader, steve eating r out, fingering, r is very critical of her own body image so beware!) remember babies, every body is a good body <3 ur all hot as fuck

By the time Steve’s kisses reach your stomach, you’re beginning to squirm.

Not for the reason’s one might hope for though.

Somehow, Steve notices as well — which is a surprise considering you’re focused entirely on trying not to show this part of you, literally and figuratively. Maybe you should be endeared that he’s so keyed onto you that he can tell the moment a concern worms into your head. It’s all love, after all.

“Uh oh,” Steve says, mouth still hovering just above your belly. He presses one more quick kiss and moves up a bit more so he can see your face clearer. His own brows knit together as he says, “You got that little wrinkle between your brows—”

He pokes between your eyebrows with his finger lightly and you realise he’s right, your face smoothing as you try to school it. Too late.

“Something’s wrong.” He states obviously. His next words are softer, kinder. “You not in the mood anymore?”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence, sitting up a bit straighter. “No, no, it’s not that.”

Steve relaxes a bit at you words, more of his weight resting back on the cradle of your hips. You can feel the hairs of his happy trail press against your tummy, the bend of his arms pressed against your sides. He ducks his head low and plants another kiss to your ribcage.

“Mm, what is it then?” He hums lowly. Another kiss, his bottom lip scraping as he drags his mouth along your skin lovingly. They drop from his mouth easily, one after the other, leaving a mess of wet kisses across your midriff.

You sigh softly, desire churning up inside your belly, fiery hot. Steve trails down, hands slipping to pinch at the edges of your panties and he begins working them down. You let him, breathes turning to pants as Steve’s kisses turn a little meaner. He nips and nibbles as he travels down.

Pulling back for a moment, Steve grins as you kick out your ankle and send your panties flying— his hands settling back on your knees and gliding down to hold your thighs tenderly. You can’t help it— you squirm again.

“There!” Steve says, about to lean back down to kiss you but pausing when he notices it again. “What are you- why’re squirming, honey?”

And oh, he’s figured you out completely.

You fight the urge to pout and find it hard to meet Steve’s brown eyes when he’s doing that goddamn sweet look that makes you want to tell him everything. It’s stupid. It’s stupid.

Steve tries to give you a comforting squeeze but he doesn’t seem to realise he’s squeezing the very problem; your thighs. You squirm again.

“C’mon, what is—”

“I just don’t… like my thighs that much.” You admit, swallowing back your embarrassment. You stare at the ceiling, a little annoyed that you’ve interrupted sex so you can talk about this. “And when you touch them too much… it just draws attention to them and— ugh! Can we not talk about this right now?”

Your try to press your thighs closed, feeling too exposed, but Steve doesn’t let you. His hands are gentle but firm and you look back down at him, wilting a bit at his sad and confused expression.

“What’s wrong with your thighs?” Steve asks earnestly. He sounds genuinely a bit devastated.

“Steve.”

“No, I wanna know.” He insists, hands still on your thighs, fingers pressing in. “What’s wrong with your thighs?”

You feel like you might cry — in frustration, in your own freakin’ self pity. Your voice is a weak whisper when you say, “Steve, they’re huge.”

Your eyes crush close so you don’t have to see Steve’s face, sighing to yourself and the ugly emotion wrestling with your chest. You wait for the touch on your thighs to retreat but… it doesn’t.

“And?” Steve says finally. He seems to remember his hands, fingers moving deftly to start massaging the flesh of your thighs. All the moves of a well-learned lover, devoted.

“And you don’t think that I love that?”

He bends and peppers kisses along the inside of your thigh, slow and purposeful. You can’t help how you squirm under the touch but this time Steve is expecting it. He doesn’t let up, just switches to the other thigh and murmurs against your skin, “You think that I don’t love that there’s more of you I can love on?”

You feel like, maybe, you want to cry again for a whole ‘nother reason this time. He’s so fucking nice to you.

Steve’s kisses grow more fervent, his teeth nipping at the skin — his hands slide down to your hips, grabbing at the doughy flesh appreciatively.

“Can’t believe,” he murmurs between his kisses. “You don’t think I love these— that these aren’t one of my favorite things about you.”

His kisses are so far down your inner thighs, it sets your arousal spiking high, you’re slick just inches from his hungry mouth. This time when your say his name, it’s in a whiny keen.

“Steve.”

“I got you, honey,” He assures you, his fingers gliding along the softness of your inner thighs, finding the well of slick building at your entrance. He teases at it, fingers gathering your slick and spreading it through your folds.

His kisses resume where you thigh meets your hip, easing his finger into your cunt and this time, when you start to squirm and write, it’s because of the blazing lust that aches deep in your gut. You can’t help but moan.

“Shhh, I got you.” Steve whispers, his finger fucking slowly in and slowly out. Every movement is paired with a dozen kisses along your thighs, dropping little reminders of his love. Your heart blazes nearly as hot as your cunt, especially as Steve’s murmurs continue. “Yeah, that’s it, I got you, sweet girl.”

You mewl pitifully at his words, torn between the urge to squirm at how he grips your thighs again, fingers spread wide and grip hungry — but it’s devoured up instantly when he leans down and puts his mouth on you.

His tongue is warm, poking around your clit almost experimentally. He hums, a deep nearly growling noise of content, and dives in. His lips wrap around your clit and he flicks his tongue expertly, in time with his finger pumping in and out of you, making your back arch and another whimper of his name leave your mouth.

“Steve, fuck— Steve,” you pant. One of your hand begs to be holding his but he’s too enraptured by doting on you and your particular insecurity.

Steve pulls off, reaching his thumb up to roll your clit beneath it tantalising well. He nuzzles into your v-line adoringly, planting even more kisses. “My pretty girl, mmm,” He says, voice raspy. “So good, letting me make her feel good, yeah? Letting me love on her thighs.”

You nod without thinking, just agreeing with whatever comes out his mouth. You’re getting warmer and warmer, wound tighter and tighter. This time when you go searching for his hand across the sheets, Steve spots it right away and his free hand lurches out to intertwine with yours. He gives it a quick squeeze.

“You squeeze real hard to tell me how good m’doing, okay?” He says, not really asking — because then his mouth is back on your clit, his finger in your cunt joined by another and moving with renewed vigour. A moan warbles out your throat, hips rolling in your pleasure as he plays with your body in that perfect way only he seems to know. Pleasure mounts, close to blooming. Your thighs start to tremble.

Your hold his hand is so tight, you must leave indent marks, half moons on his skin — and you don’t let up the whole entire time. Testament to how good he is, at loving you and making you feel good.

[atopvisenyashill]

okay fuck avoiding the dance how do we get ned out of the capital alive.

i think his main obstacle here is actually littlefinger and that’s hard to get around because ned has no real reason to distrust him besides littlefinger being skeezy, and catelyn trusts littlefinger

still, if i’m ned, and i get a letter saying there’s a conspiracy against my bestie and my wife is telling me i have to get involved, i’m contacting the closest thing to a southerner i know aka wyman manderly and going “hey can i have like. some spies. actually can you just come to the capital with me” and i’m telling varys that respectfully he’s fired. if i can’t fire him - why SHOULDNT i be able to but maybe robert is being annoying - i’m having manderly at every council meeting regardless.

it's probably harder to fire renly but i still think i'm bringing someone else i trust - a riverlander maybe, someone more In Tune With The South, like Jason Mallister perhaps - to at least shadow him and see if he's doing his job.

i get why he doesn’t want to tell sansa straight up not to trust the lannisters because what if she gives something away but not telling her anything is clearly a mistake. tbh i think even at the capital is slightly too late, he needs to tell her before they leave winterfell that they can’t be trusted. getting cat to do this is probably helpful, i do imagine she would listen more to her mother than her father about something like marriage and southron politics.

i feel the same about lady, i understand he doesn’t just try to sneak her back north because that would be difficult as fuck but if he just straight up says to robert’s face “if you want me to kill that wolf for you i’m taking my entire family back north and i’m coming back south to be your hand without my kids.” like call that man's bluff right away. i think robert shows in canon that he'll yell and scream at ned but he ultimately won't actually arrest ned for shit and ned should really push his luck here when it comes to lady because if robert can't back him up over a pet, well that says something you know.

but really - just avoid leaving sansa alone with joffrey and you can avoid this? actually wait - call up a mormont to be sansa’s sworn shield. i think alysane is pregnant at this point right, so call up dacey (or lyra? is lyra a warrior too?) and be like "STICK TO SANSA LIKE WESTEROS VERSION OF GLUE." handing sansa off is maybe not the best move parenting wise but it's one i think ned would realisticaly take - give her a peer or two that understand the danger and can explain it to her in a way she understands easier. but also - have CATELYN explain to sansa literally anything.

also, get her the harp tutor she wants so she has something to focus on besides joffrey.

send someone you trust, like jory or even the blackfish (someone stannis would respect) to stannis to be like "why did you cut and run you fuck???? get your ass back here i need some goddamn help." if he refuses, pull rank because why is this man disappearing so suspiciously and not telling anyone???

the MOMENT there's a problem - something goes wrong on the trident, something is even vaguely fishy at the capital - tell robb and cat to call the banners in the north and riverlands. i'm dead ass here. maybe it's not subtle - can you do this subtlely? if you can, do it that way - but i just think it's better to not fuck around here when all you have is a letter from lysa saying "something's fucky."

DON'T TELL CERSEI YOU KNOW ABOUT THE INCEST BEFORE YOU GRAB HOLD OF THE CAPITAL. I would honestly grab her kids, force them onto a boat, and tell her "get on the boat right now or robert will kill you all and i won't be able to stop him." don't give her a choice, don't give her a chance to regroup.

[third-generation-female-warrior]

Okay, so, fair warning, this is an anti-Reylo, anti-Kylo Ren, long analysis of The Acolyte, so if you choose to read this and get mad at me for bashing Kylo Ren, that's called a you problem.

Basically, seeing people compare the "situationship" between Quimir and Osha with whatever the fuck Reylo was and putting them on equal pedestals gives me the ick and I think I figured out why.

For clarity, I can't fucking stand Reylo for a lot of reasons, but for the sake of my analysis, I'll keep it condensed for why I can't stand Kylo Ren.

He is the warm mayonnaise of characters.

Don't get me wrong, he was generally interesting in The Force Awakens, when he was framed as the monster with a human face, and that's because the narration in TFA treated him like the goddamn villain he was supposed to be.

And then the pants were shat and the spine was broken when the narrative with The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker was doing backflips on a trampoline trying to give him pathos, trying to make him empathetic, while also decimating literally every other character to put him on a pedestal he didn't deserve on his spit-washed "redemption" arc.

To me, it was like they didn't know what to do with him. Those movies might have been okay if they just stuck with making him the villain and continued to treat him as such. But they didn't, even when he was making bad choices and did nothing but make BAD choices up until the actual last fight, and instead, framed all of this BAD CHOICES as "he's complicated~~ <3" and that's where it all fell apart because the narration didn't like, punish him AT ALL for making these bad and barely even framed these as objectively bad choices.

Now, the Acolyte is different.

In the middle of lavishing us with the eye candy that is Manny Jacinto, and Qimir's apparent lack of threat and honesty to Osha, the narrative did something interesting and brilliant that I hope they continue to lean into.

While showing us how non-threatening Qimir can be, we are given a very rude awakening.

When we cut back to Khofar, it is a very long, very uncomfortable lingering shot of Jekki's dead body, as she is positioned towards the audience with open eyes, not quite looking at the camera, but forcing us to look into the eyes of Jekki all the same.

It is a rude awakening, a reminder that Qimir is a deceiver, and, most importantly THE VILLAIN OF THE SHOW!!!!

Under the facade of the hapless sidekick to Mae was the Sith Master waiting to strike her down should she fail.

A reminder that, through his honesty and intentions with not harming Osha, he is a murderer who could remorselessly justify his own slaughter of an actual child.

We look on as it shows Yord in the dirt, and the pile of dead Jedi bodies and we see that what Qimir has done was terrible and devastating he does not care, even if we do.

And THEN, ohohoh!!! AND THEN! We see how his dark deeds were not solely committed on Khofar, but he is continuing to do terrible things on Ahch-To the Unknown Planet.

Oh, we thought, we thought Osha was safe because she could pin him with his own lightsaber, she could kill him, she could leave!

But it becomes very evident in the last 30 seconds that Osha was never safe as she puts on his helmet, surrounds herself in dark, and symbolically succumbs to it as she closes her eyes.

He has been corrupting her this whole time and that's treated AS A BAD THING, and THAT'S where The Acolyte succeeds and The Sequels failed!

Qimir for his apparent defensiveness, is still treated as the villain, his act of corruption and seducing Osha to the dark side is treated as a scary thing, where you shake your head at the t.v. and beg her to not do it even if you know she's going to anyways.

And then you realize the answer to his riddle to Mae.

You realize this is how you kill a Jedi without a weapon.

And it's all very very wrong.

And, better yet, to finish this off, even though the narration establishes MOTIVE for his anti-Jedi stance, with his scar leading to his supposed backstory of betrayal (that we have to take at face-value for now, even if I think there's more to reveal), the motivation is just narratively justifying him or his actions, and he is STILL THE VILLAIN WHO MUST BE STOPPED!!

[theloganator101]

The Great BNHA Review: How do you fuck up teaching a moral THIS badly!?

Ah themes and morals... not every story or show needs to have these kind of things. Not every story needs to be deep or thought provoking, but for stories that do, it's important to have them correlate well with the story so we can understand what it's trying to say.

Like Ratatouille's moral of "Anyone can cook" or even the first Spongebob Movie's message of "You are who you are" is told really well.

And what is the moral BNHA tries to convey to it's audience?

"Anyone can be a hero!"

Okay, fine, that can be a good message to tie into a story about heroes. And how does this message get conveyed into the story?

"Oh the main character starts off quirkless but obtains the Number One hero's power."

... So literally by making him like everyone else around him? Wouldn't it make the message hit harder if he strived to be a quirkless hero to prove everyone that called him weak or worthless wrong?

"Oh but if he stayed quirkless then he wouldn't be able to partake in the final fight!"

Oh is THAT why All Might came in to fight AFO with a mecha suit!? If technology is SO advanced to where this kind of thing can exist, then why can't Izuku have the same courtesy huh?

For real I blame the narrative for making people believe a quirkless hero is impossible to be in this show when it's clear that it can be a thing! For whenever I bring up this idea, I ALWAYS get hit with the same quote of:

"Well the plot wouldn't be the same if Izuku stayed quirkless! Izuku can't go up against AFO or Shigaraki that way!"

And that's the thing! I'm not asking for the same plot but with Quirkless!Izuku, I'm asking for a story where the main character proves he can keep up with his classmates with quirks! You can't exactly tell that kind of story when you make the main character like everyone else!

And on top of that, it also twists the message of:

"Anyone can be a hero...! But only if you fit in with the majority!"

Which is kind of fucked up when being quirkless can be compared to having a disability in real life... so the story is basically saying you won't amount to anything worthwhile if you're not like everyone else.

But enough about the whole quirkless thing, let's move on to another thing the series tried to shove down our throats and treat it like a meaningful message...

"Win to save, save to win"

A saying that you and I have grown familiar with, something that was only created for the sole purpose of bringing Izuku down to Bakugou's level and solidify them as rivals... Even if the saying fucking sucks and SHOULDN'T be hero material.

I mean SERIOUSLY!? Winning isn't everything, and while it could be somewhat true... it's seriously a bad message considering that this is supposed to be a series where the main character teaches that there's more to being a hero than winning and getting fame and glory all the time.

Ah yes, and that one moral I keep saying...

"If your abusers are sorry, you should forgive them and keep them in your life! And if you refuse their apology then you're just as bad if not worse than them when they hurt you."

This moral... this goddamn moral is what stood out to me the most throughout BNHA. It is flat-out terrible and I'm honestly surprised NO ONE on the writing or illustrating team caught on to this and brought it to Hori's attention. It's enforced with Izuku and Bakugou, it's enforced Shoto and Endeavor, and it's somewhat enforced when Overhaul was begging to see Eri but luckily the other characters were like "No."

And the thing is none of this would be a problem if it didn't have the victims forgiving them and instead tells them to fuck off because they screwed up enough of their lives already. Why would you ever give the person who hurt you a second chance? Why would you risk letting them repeat the same mistakes?

I just wanna say one thing regarding all this...

You are NOT responsible for your abuser's actions or things they choose to do, it is NOT your job to "make them better" nor should it fall on your shoulders to keep them in check, you do NOT owe them your time, your efforts, your patience and kindness...

You 👏 Do 👏 Not 👏 owe 👏 them 👏 SHIT!!

So for the next part I'm actually gonna go off track and talk about the other characters in BNHA and just how utterly wasted they really were in this story, and hopefully it won't take as long as this one!

[thousandyearphantombunker]

"we want more mentally ill/disabled characters with ugly symptoms!"

You guys can't handle lapis lazuli tony stark or hank pym! You guys can barely contain your ableism toward the hulk! You guys hate the good doctor for all the wrong reasons! You made fun of his speech patterns and his meltdowns wtf like I'm sorry the only autistic person you've supported have been the perfect non annoying type- but too many of especially as children are like shawn- they talk weird and don't understand what's so offensive about what they said

You guys keep saying Lapis should just be rewritten into a villain! I don't like how the show handled her but like your really gonna make the girl who shows ugly bad symptoms of ptsd into villain? You guys keep trying to make hank into a villain or rewrite his past- god forbid a character have really sevre ugly symptoms that causes them to make decisions that permanently effect the story but have them still be heroes! God forbid Ironman have npd and be a hero! Let's shame MCU Bruce for his mental illness for being unable to do things because of it! God as soon as a character with a mental illness or developmental disorder or low IQ shows actual symptoms and behaviors (ei: acts like how someone with the disorder in question acts- you know the main part of having a fucking disorder) you get pissy and pile on the shame- yeah jen you do control your anger better than bruce- you can also stand better than Charles fucking Xavier! Yeah your smarter than a guy with a low IQ want a cookie?

I'm never gonna be one of those people who tell others to stop writing disabled villains or that writing a character that deals with internalized ableism (disabled people like any group of people can be total prices of shit, and I'm sorry not everyone is content and accepting of their disabilities and some of us take comfort in characters that struggle with being angry because of their problems) but Jesus Christ when a heroic character with ugly symptoms who makes cruel decisions or has 'bratty' or 'immature' moments can we let them stay heroes? Can we let them have a disorder without piling on the shame that we are inferior because we can't do something everyone else can- because that's literally what a disability is! Can they still be heroes?

Do we have to use intellectual/developmental disability as a shorthand for anti intellectualism and being a gross annoying psycho

Do we have to make every heroic character with aspd or npd into a villain or change their disability to autism because it's 'more sympathetic' as if lack of empathy isn't a goddamned symptom of many disabilities like PTSD and autism- You can headcanon tony as having autism- that's cool by me but it's clear some of y'all do it to make him a 'woobie'- which is infantalizing btw but also it's because some of y'all are ableist toward people with npd

I hate that the only acceptable 'ugly symptoms' are things like forgetting to shower or brush your teeth every once in a while or being a bit irritable and not stuff like burning bridges or having explosive outburts

Also it's not a mental illness unless it effects your behavior?

Im not saying that we should just accept and allow mentally ill/intellectually disabled people/characters to get away with bad behaviors unpunished but can they stay heroes? Can they still be respectable?

"we want more characters with ugly symptoms"

Yet

You people get offended by low functioning autistic people existing! You get mad at them for being incontinent or nonverbal/making strange noises or having scary anger issues or IQs low enough that they will never be independent you get mad at them for not showing the 'appropriate' reactions to things they may or may not fully understand- you hate people with sensory issues -

You don't want mentally ill/disabled characters- you want characters with the labels of mental disabilities without any of the ugly strange or off putting behaviors mental/intellectual deficiencies/issues cause- you want a romantic tragedy!

You shame people with Alzheimer's for FORGETTING stuff and LOSING SKILLS 'yeah yeah you are superior to your uncle because you can remember stuff but can you remember it's a fucking disease! you people are cruel

Yes you are technically superior to disabled people because you are capable of things we aren't and you have better character and you can control yourself but guess what? Those people you hate for being incapable of that shit have disabilities it's not our faults! It's the fucking definition of a disability! Like yeah it is a skill issue and we're just 'worse' than nondisabled with us lacking self control and having lower IQs and bad mental processing- yeah it is because we're lacking in some capacity that's like the definition disability you can't say you support disabled people and then turn around and say shit about how your better than these people because you can talk or take care of yourself

Hank Pym and Lapis Lazuli should get called out for acting like assholes and pieces of shit but I am firmly against turning one of few heroic characters who actively struggle with psychosis and delusions into another 'psycho' villain and I'm firmly against saying Lapis is just as bad as Jasper and using symptoms of her PTSD as signs she should be rewritten into a villain- I want them to be held accountable not turned into straight up evil guys or dear god washing out their problematic qualities until they're palatable/relatable to a neurotypical audience to make them good guys when they are already good guys!

Can people who do bad things because of their disabilities still be heroes? Can they be allowed to get better or do they have to accept that having ugly symptoms means being the bad guy? Fucking hell this is why I side eye anyone who acts like mental illness/developmental/cognitive or mental etc disabilities are more destigmatized than physical disabilities (trust me they aren't)

Tldr let characters with ugly symptoms be heroes let your characters with mental disorders act like they have a disorder and let said characters be heroes inspite of it!

[hazbin-critique-place]

THINGS I HATE ABOUT THE THE APOLOGY TOUR (part 1)

Blitzo just randomly walks in. AND DON'T GET ME WRONG, I LOVE HIM, HE'S LITERALLY THE CLOSES THING TO MY COPING MECHANISMS IRL AND PEOPLE HAVE DESCRIBED ME THE SAME WAY AS HIM, I'M NOT SHITTING ON HIM, but rather the storytelling... Like... What??? Like, make it make sense.

So he just randomly comes and goes, as he wishes??? And we saw he didn't have any problems with stealing (maybe just felt bad a bit but come on he kills ppl for living and we see how sadistic he can be he's NOT gonna have problem with that) why doesn't just steal from Stolas' house and sell that shit????? Like - he could fucking quit his job or find a better one!!!

And then he wouldn't need the grimoire, and... Boom.

Then, why is he even there??? Like - did he use his brains at all?? Like - bruv, you got rhe crystal already, so if you wanna act like you don't give a shit... Just don't come pleading to him (bird dick guy) and basically annoy the shit out of him for next 10 minutes even if you're right. Trust me, that's not how you feign nonshalance. I would know.

Stolas being sassy at him, then??? Like - if you have the guts to be sassy, why don't even have the whole conversation wuth him and sit and talk the relationship out with each other already??? Are you THAT stubborn?! That's not normal.

Also, if you really don't want him there, Stolas, just teleport him out. Or yourself. Just - fucking make it make sense. You HAVE the powers, and I KNOW that in Good Omens Crowley and Az would in this situation probably forget that, Neil even speaks about it in some interview or idk, but... Come on. HE'S SMART. STOLAS LITERALLY READS. (I know this is stereotyping but there IS a reason for the stereotype - literally a majority of people who'd read in their free time (and c'mon, even I, an ao3 monster, wouldn't read after such a fight like Sto and Blitz had - my anxiety would be making scenarios and pacing through the garden already -) ARE smart.) Don't make him look all educated and priviledged and informated and shit just to act like this mean asshole, like - does he ENJOY annoying Blitzo back??? (Also, pls shut, you twitter users who "dOn'T dEaDnAmE hiM!!!1!" all over reasonable posts when you lack better arguments. It literally IS his legal name, and if he had such a problem with it, he could change it easily... Take Anthony to Angel Dust, after all. Or just nicknames could work.) Bcs I at this point honestly think he does.

Also, you dumb, dumb, hypocritical bird, why would you show him a fucking invite when you could just repeatedly tell him to at least 'go away' or just act objectively reasonable????

And if you're trying to be so polite bro, just magic him a cup of tea, or something, to match the yours. It would nicely fit to the scene and aesthetic, also it would make you seem more nice and classy... At least I could like you.

Also, are you ignoring Blitzo or fuck¥ng talking to him???

Because at the same time, you want to have an alone time, but you still throw baits to elarge the conversation at him.

He's all sassy and makes comments and aaahhh - so you're like satisfied with the situation now or what???

I mean, poor Blitzo -

Like-

If you hate him, just tell it to him already. Poor boy.

Oh god, we aren't even 3 minutes in and I have already writen a goddamn novel.

Also, I know it's supposed to be funny, but the whole party idea is honestly just dumb. Like... I would be so bored and not even excited to even go to a place designated to constantly talk about a person I hate? Lol

Like I love a good gossip but not as a theme for a goddamn concert-having function!

Also, you know that happy people live longer, right? This is kinda unhealthy - I mean, that's just basic, no? Like don't support and feed your hatred towards an individual just to feel better about yourself, or at least don't force it.

Bcs I get the guy who broke down crying at that one shot after he tried to hit the blitzi plush so much. And the other dude was hyping him up. I'd be so much confused, like him. Like - he's going through some hard stiff, like some facking serious character development right now, just let him be!

About Martha... Ehhh, I love her new design and character, but it just seems boring and soul sucking now that every character, after they're denonised, they just happened to be the same, most generic, and shitty snappy, constantly angry and always frustrated (and frustrating) characters ever. Like - does hell really that much brainwash people??? I mean, it would be interesting, but honestly I don't think that Vivzie did this intentionally at all.

Also, why would you even sleep with your nemesys... 😭 I'm a number one enemies to lovers fan and I don't ship it if they don't bite rach other but this, especially so unexplored and just randomly thrown in, does NOT make and sense.

It was funny though lol. I want more of these just to see how much Viv's one-dimensional view of her own fucking characters transforming to hell changes.

Part 2 soon.

[alexanderwales]

The second chapter of Save the Cat! is about genre, titled "Give me the same thing ... only different!". The general principle is one that I strongly agree with, even if I don't always practice it in my writing: you must know how and why things work in fiction, you must be a student of the realms you're writing in, you must give your own twists on clichés if you think you might be writing them, and must be familiar with clichés so that you don't end up boring people. Study things that are like the thing you're trying to create. Analyze them, take them apart, understand how they work or don't work.

But then a lot of the chapter is taken up with Snyder's own system of ten genres, and when I was reading it I wanted to just stop him and say "hey, what the fuck, did you even watch that movie?"

Also I laughed for like five minutes at him putting Schindler's List in the "Dude with a Problem" genre, even though I agree that according to his typology it completely fits.

I'm a huge fan of making up arbitrary categories and then stuffing things into them. I don't think it's often very useful, no, but it's fun, and when you're done shoving things into boxes, you can pull them back out, find a new set of boxes, and repeat the process. I'm not going to repeat Snyder's categories here, but I think they kind of suck, and don't accurately reflect genre as we understand them, and the whole thing would have been better off is it was taking story archetypes and saying why they work and then what the usual deviations from them were.

Here are two examples that I take issue with, among others. First, by his accounting Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is a "Golden Fleece" movie, the kind of film centered around a hero's journey where what he ends up finding is, ultimately, himself, and every set piece along the way is important only in the way it relates to the hero's self-acceptance or whatever.

No. Wrong. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is very very clearly a "Buddy Love" under this system. Look at this fucking image:

Could this DVD cover make this any more obvious? Literally all the promotional material is like this. It even says in the book that most "Buddy Love" movies start with the "buddies" disliking each other, and that their relationship is central to the movie. And if Snyder is getting this wrong, what else is he getting wrong about his own system?

Example two. I'm just going to quote it in full:

Now look at The Matrix and compare and contrast it with the Disney/Pixar hit Monsters, Inc. Yup. Same movie.

Fucking what do you mean.

Under this system of genres, Monsters, Inc. is very clearly another "Buddy Love" movie. There's a kid they have to deal with, but most of the movie is grounded in the relationship between Mike and Sulley. Like, what's the low point of the whole movie? They get banished to the Himalayas and then have a big fight! It's about their relationship to each other!

(I looked this up on the savethecat website and found an article claiming that it's an example of "Monster in the House", which is fucking stupid, because what's the monster and what's the house? Just does not apply. The child is takes the role of the "monster" for such a small amount of the movie, then they're looking after her and trying to return her home, and even before that it's not relatable as a monster to the audience. Blake Snyder didn't write the article, so maybe he had something different in mind.)

Meanwhile, The Matrix most closely falls into either "Dude with a Problem" (ordinary man thrust into extraordinary circumstances) or "Superhero" (extraordinary man in ordinary circumstances) and I would argue that it's actually neither of those because it's a goddamned hero's journey and those are their own thing and it makes no sense to try to split them into two parts because you don't get more explanatory power of what's working and what's not. His analysis of what he calls "Superhero" films also sucks for that reason and just totally misses the mark about what makes them tick.

So how are these the same movie? I don't know, it probably made sense to Blake Snyder. I have done my due diligence and searched for answers online, but haven't found much, just some weak ass defenses.

Also, I really hated that he says Chinatown and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? are basically the same movie because no shit. Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is a parody of noir, and was adapted from the script for a never-produced third film in what was supposed to be a Chinatown trilogy. But even then, I don't get how you can say they're the same movie without pointing out the strong "Buddy Love" through line in Roger Rabbit!

This whole chapter was a total miss for me. Decent advice at the start that I've been hearing and preaching for a long time, but this typology sucks and he doesn't even seem to understand it (or the movies he's putting in it) very well. And since the typology sucks, it's a bad lens for understanding the underlying rules of writing, of story structure, the components of story, etc.

[therobotmonster]

So... Shapeways is going bankrupt.

This is particularly irksome for me, as that's a good 1/3rd of my monthly income, so I'm crossing my fingers while I start setting up a new store on cults. I have literally thousands of items so getting them all up is going to take ages.

But why did this happen?

Well I'll fucking tell you what I think happened.

It was a company run on arrogance and cowardice.

Shapeways made its mark as the cafepress of 3d printing. The weight of this was their marketplace that let people sell prints directly to customers without having to do the printing themselves. At its peak, I made more from Shapeways than from my day job.

The problem was that Shapeways put zero effort into the marketplace. They'd send some of us to a con to promote the idea of 3d printing game minis a couple of times, sure, but when it came to actual site maintenance and design every suggestion and request by sellers was roundly ignored. We asked for better search and categorization options. We asked to be able to name variants in our stores. We asked for better communication from the print techs. We asked for accurate subcategories that actually reflected how customers looked for items. None of it was done.

As such, the site was baffling to customers and difficult to understand. This was made worse by Shapeways' continual renaming of their materials. So after a couple of years Shapeways announces that they're not going to do anything for the marketplace because it's underperforming, and are going to focus on B2B, and in doing so they buried the marketplace in a tiny little link on the front page.

Overnight sales plummeted. We complained again, nothing was done. We asked for a different URL that went straight to the marketplace (something that would literally cost them $80 to do) that we could direct customers to, we were ignored.

The marketplace is underperforming, so we won't put in the effort needed to make the marketplace perform. Makes perfect sense.

Prices go up. Shipping goes up substantially, and then it was a thousand little cuts. The auto-checks were altered to make it impossible to verify anything manually with any accuracy, so it became harder to design for the limitations of their printers.

The site slowed down substantially so every click had a several second pause, making shopping and maintaining frustrating and unpleasant. Shipping costs to many areas of the world became insanely high, effectively cutting off entire markets.

Want to not be Shapeways? Then remember this:

Your users know more about your site experience and their own needs than you do.

If you have a sales site, and the people selling through it say "this isn't working, we need this" then maybe you should listen to them and not just say 'you're wrong' to their faces.

Oh, and also, if goddamn Rolls-Royce comes in filing false DMCA claims over the use of the word "Phantom" in any context on your site, you don't take every item through a multiple day review for every edit and say "LOL, we can't do anything"

You take them to court for abusing the system on behalf of your user base, you fucking bootlicking cowards.

OH, AND I ALMOST FORGOT!

I HAD TO FIND OUT ABOUT THIS FROM A DM ON TWITTER.

They've sent me a check every month for half a decade and they don't even send a "We're closing shop" email.

Look upon my prints, ye mighty, and despair.

If you want to help me though the meantime, here's my paypal.me and my gofundme.

[juyeonszn]

I LOOK BETTER UNDER YOU

PAIRING choi chanhee x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.62k

GENRES smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, TW: LEWIS STRUCTURES/CHEMISTRY TERMS 🤢🤢🤢, academic rivals to something idk, kev and jichang appearances, chanhee is a cocky little shit, vaginal fingering, edging, exhibitionism lowkey, there’s not p in v action but they are in a public space so…. take with that what u will

SUMMARY aside from excelling at literally everything else, choi chanhee was also really fucking good at getting on your last nerve.

MORE my brain hurts LOL anyway fawntober day???? 7 holy fuck that is actually insane… ANYWAY shout out reese for being my beta as always <3 and also shout out @sungbeam for the idea <3 laurv u bestie!!! pls reblog if u enjoyed :)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

You felt stupid. Never in your life had you ever struggled to learn a concept, usually understanding on the first go around. This was the case for a majority of your courses. However, for some reason you just couldn’t quite grasp Lewis Structures in your Chemistry class.

Everything else seemed simple enough, your professor explaining them in a way that made them sound easy. They were anything but. You found yourself stressing over whether or not you could fully comprehend the bonds between atoms in time for your midterm. With the way it was going for you, that hope appeared to get less and less realistic.

“Have you thought about going to tutoring?” Your friend, Kevin, asks as you sit across from each other in one of the library’s study rooms, your chemistry textbook opened up to the section on Lewis Structures.

“I mean, no, I haven’t. I just think they’d judge me, considering I have the second highest GPA in our department.” You huff, scribbling down even more notes on the concept, as if you didn’t already have everything you needed to know. God, being a woman in STEM was so hard.

“That’s your problem,” Kevin rolls his eyes, working on his communications homework simultaneously. “Your ego is too damn big. Maybe if you toned it down a notch and set aside your pride, you’d be able to grow the balls to actually ask for help.”

You’re offended, honestly. Because as much as he was right, he was simultaneously very wrong. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the courage to ask for assistance. It was the fact that your biggest rival was the person in charge of the science department’s tutoring lab. He had the highest GPA in your year and you couldn’t stand the thought of losing to him. Let alone showing your weak side.

Aside from excelling at literally everything else, Choi Chanhee was also really fucking good at getting on your last nerve. You were thankful that he wasn’t in your Chemistry lecture, lest he made fun of you for all the questions you asked pertaining to your struggles. He had a knack for crawling under your skin like a goddamn parasite, doing everything in his power to make sure you never felt a moment of peace as long as he was around.

You hated him. You hated him so much for all of the unnecessary competition and constant need to one-up you in every mutual category possible. You hated his overall overachievement to be better than you, to be above you at all costs. You hated his dumb pretty face.

So how could you turn to tutoring after all of that? It just wasn’t feasible. Kevin wouldn’t get it. He didn’t have an arch nemesis holding him back from success.

“That’s not it at all, Kev. But it’s whatever, I’ll figure this shit out myself.”

You could not figure that shit out by yourself. Midterms were a week and a half away, and you were still ripping your hair out over which structures were more dominant and other things of that nature. This was absolutely humiliating. Perhaps growing up as a gifted kid was the worst thing that could’ve happened to you.

With a frown permanently etched on your face, you glance over at your tablemate’s notes. He had messily scrawled examples of those damn Lewis Structures covering the sheet, eyes flickering back and forth between his notebook and the projector at the front of the lecture hall. Oh how badly you wished to be in his shoes, to decipher everything and anything to do with the dot structures presented to you.

Ji Changmin was by no means a genius. His intelligence levels were above average, but that was still below you. How could he understand this better than you? It made no sense. Then again, he was close friends with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. That had to be the reason why. His friend was practically the Einstein reincarnate.

This meant that you couldn’t even express your difficulties with him either. Chanhee no doubtedly knew that you sat beside his friend. If you asked for his help, it would obviously circle back to him and you’d never hear the end of it. You’d never unhear the taunting voice of Choi Chanhee teasing you for asking Ji Changmin for assistance with fucking Lewis Structures. There really was no winning here.

As the lecture draws to a close and your professor reminds you to study for the fast approaching midterm, Changmin clears his throat beside you with a raised eyebrow. You look at him with thinly concealed surprise. So much for being subtle.

“I saw you looking at my notes,” he snorts. “You know, if you’re having a hard time with this chapter, you should just go to the tutoring lab. I’m assuming you haven’t because Chanhee hasn’t gloated about it yet. But if you were curious, he won’t be there today. He has to go to some meeting for the newspaper. You know that guy’s got like ten different clubs he’s a part of.”

You’re not sure why Ji Changmin would be on your side with this. In fact, it kind of makes you skeptical. You didn’t know how credible he was, so why would you trust this information? For all you knew, he could’ve been attempting to lure you right into a trap. However, despite the bit of laughter he exhibited, he didn’t appear to be lying. You were usually a pretty good judge of character.

That’s how you found yourself showing up to the tutoring lab later that evening.

It was located inside of the STEM building on the fourth floor, along with some of the offices belonging to several professors. You chose to go later at night with the knowledge that most students would be gone by that time. The lab was available for use until 9 PM on weekdays, and it was currently 8 PM.

Your grip on the strap of your bag tightens as you push open the see-through glass door of the lab, grateful for the evident emptiness. Though it also worries you, because there were no tutors around either. Maybe the slowness of a Thursday evening encouraged them to head home early. You decide to wait a few minutes anyway, just in case someone shows up.

That was, unfortunately, a very big mistake. As you’re pulling out your notes and textbook, you hear the low creak of the door opening. You think you might keel over and die when you’re suddenly face to face with The Choi Chanhee.

His lips curl up almost menacingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.”

“Shut the fuck up,” your teeth grit together. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting or something? Why are you here?”

“Ended early,” he shrugs. “The tutors have a habit of leaving prematurely when I’m not around, so I wanted to see if there was anyone here. Guess it’s my lucky day, huh?”

This dude was a walking headache for real. You were seriously going to walk out of the lab with a migraine if he kept talking like he was so fucking smart. He was, but he didn’t need to know that you thought that. His own ego was large enough without you inflating it even more.

“I’m going home.” You state simply, mouth drawn in a straight line. You didn’t have the patience for his aggravating ass tonight.

“Am I really that horrible that you won’t accept my aid? I heard that you’ve been having problems with Lewis Structures. I may like to joke around, but I’m not really a masochist who likes to watch people suffer,” Chanhee chuckles with a shake of his head. “You’re just so easy to rile up.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, avoiding his piercing gaze. “But fine. If you’re actually gonna help me, I’ll let you just this once. I can’t afford to have this cost me a perfect midterm grade.”

He grins, something that looks conniving. You hate how much more attractive it makes him. You were thankful again for the fact that there were no other students present. It was embarrassing enough to be seen being civil with the worst person in the world.

Chanhee takes the seat beside you, turning it so he’s facing you. You keep your body squared to the table, flipping your textbook to the page on Lewis Structures and preparing a fresh sheet in your notebook. You feel your cheeks warm up with the attention on you, his arms still folded in front of him.

“S-So I don’t get the— um— I don’t— uh— I don’t understand the dominant— the dominant bonds,” your eyes squeeze shut, mortified by the amount of stuttering and fumbling over your words. “How do you— um— how do you determine them?”

He smiles at how cute you are, a shy side of you he’s never seen before. He was so used to you constantly arguing with him, used to you standing your ground and competing with him even when you knew he’d come out on top. He places an arm on the back of your chair, leaning in to read what was in your textbook although he didn’t need to. He just wanted an excuse to get closer to you.

“So you’re gonna want your formal charge to be as close to zero as possible. In order to calculate that, you’ll have to subtract the number of bonds divided by two and the number of electron pairs from the total number of valence electrons per individual atom,” Chanhee explains, pointing at the formula on the page. “How about I give you a couple examples to work on?”

You nod slowly, afraid your voice might betray you again. He jots down a few molecular examples on your notebook, pausing for a moment to nip at his lip and examine you. You blink, a little confused by the action.

“What are you doing?” There’s a slight crack in your tone.

“I have an idea,” he licks his lips. “To make this more rewarding for us both.”

Your brows furrow, his response further perplexing you. One of his hands situates itself on your thigh, your eyes widening. Of all days to wear a skirt, why did you have to choose today? You glance between his face and his hand, lips parted.

“Ch-Chanhee?”

“Yes, pretty?”

You don’t know why the nickname has your upper and lower heartbeats skipping, sweat forming on your palms. You’d always been too preoccupied despising him for being so much better at everything than you were. But right now, his fingers creeping beneath the denim of your skirt, all of that seemed to fly out of the window. You gasp as his fingertips reach the lace of your panties.

“I can make you feel good,” he says into your ear, thumb massaging your thigh. “I can make this worth your while if you do well for me.”

He was giving you fucking whiplash. One second he was teasing you for coming to the tutoring lab, and the next he was trying to coax you into coming quite literally. You think you’re the insane one, however, because you can’t conjure a logical reason to say no.

“Okay,” you breathe, shakily picking up your mechanical pencil. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

You begin to work on the first molecule he wrote out, trying to ignore his slender fingers pushing aside your underwear and rubbing your clit gently. Your bottom lip quivers when his lips make contact with your neck, kissing up and down softly with each circle of his phalanges on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Chanhee presses two fingers inside of your cunt, smiling against your skin when you whimper, nearly dropping your pencil. You fight back tears threatening to spill from your eyes due to lack of reaction, his digits so skilled at working your pussy and looping that knot in your abdomen. Your legs spread wider as you attempt to finish the first example as quickly as possible, so he can knock you over that edge that seems so close now.

“D-Done,” you shiver, lids almost fluttering shut from pure bliss.

Chanhee judges your answer, fingers halting their movements when he recognizes an error. You whine, that taste of sweet release pulled right from under you like a rug. He tsks, kissing your temple as if he hadn’t just denied you an orgasm.

“That’s not the dominant structure. Try again.” He instructs, not continuing until you’ve picked up the pencil and rewrote the Lewis Structure.

You ignore his palm applying pressure to your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of your drooling cunt, lips sucking at the exposed base of your neck, where it meets your shoulder. Your focus zeroes in on completing this structure correctly, rearranging the electron bonds until they’re right. You feel your climax returning when he praises you for getting it this time.

“Such a smart girl,” he murmurs into your collarbone. “Now do the other one.”

He doesn’t stop his assault, increasing the pace of his fingers while you scribble out numbers and draw electron pairs. Your orgasm inches towards you, like a freight train going at full speed. Chanhee curls his middle finger, tripping you up and causing you to write down a wrong number on accident. Ever the perceptive, he relaxes his wrist and retracts his hand, the band in your stomach loosening along with it.

“Please, Chanhee,” you cry, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. “Need to cum so bad.”

“Mm-mm,” he scolds. “Not until you finish the structure properly. C’mon, I know you can be a good girl for me.”

You force yourself to persevere, bottom lip between your teeth when he slips his fingers back into your pussy. Pretending like you weren’t on the cusp of euphoria was making you dizzy, but it was necessary if you wanted to reach it completely. You couldn’t handle a third denial.

Chanhee speeds up his fingers, adding his thumb on your clit for extra stimulation. It was like he did enjoy watching you suffer. Perhaps he really was a masochist. You scrawl the last electron bond of the structure, releasing the pencil from your grasp and throwing your head back with a low whine. He hums in appreciation at a job well done.

“Oh my god,” you moan softly, looking down at where his hand disappears in your skirt. “Feels s-so good.”

“Yeah?” Chanhee goads, peppering kisses on your jaw and nibbling at your pulse point. “Ready to cum for me, pretty? Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You can’t even reply, his cocky voice filling your head as he finally permits your orgasm, walls convulsing and clenching around his digits with a wail. It hasn’t even occurred to you that you’re in a very public, very open space, where anyone could walk in at any given moment. Your brain is too foggy from your overstimulated cunt and the comprehension that Choi Chanhee just fucking fingered you to even consider the consequences of the location.

It only takes a few seconds for you to come to, your body catching up with your head. You look at Chanhee with eyes resembling those of a prey cornered by its predator.

“Why is your hand still inside my skirt?”

“‘S warm down there,” he shrugs with a sly smile. “Besides, I’m not really done with you yet.”

“What are you talking about…?” You trail off, throat dry from how winded this guy was making you.

“You still need some practice before your midterm, no? And I kinda wanna see how pretty you look under me.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.