#only thing im willing to tag this under is

[bagel-53]

just wanted to point out that whoever thinks that Zionism is like Nazism will be dead wrong cuz Zionism is about how jews deserve a country because of people who believe in nazism.

nazism is the thought process of "jews, black and lgbt (aka anyone who isnt white) are all below and we (the white) are better than everybody, especially Germans"

i dont see the resemblance.

[codecicle]

wanted to apologise for possibly being someone who fucked up ur tl with 18+ slime posts (coming to grips with how tagging works on this here webbedsite!) please take my sincerest (anonymous) apologies ur a cool goober 🙏

ay man it's alright!! really!!! i understand most of the 18+ people are coming from websites like twitter or tiktok so they don't quite understand how it functions :-) if you ever need a tutorial or any help with understanding the culture here, shoot me an ask! it's insanely different from other social media and i completely understand its weird to adjust to and navigate. peace and love + have fun with your slimeposting ✌️

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

✨ someone ✨ broke their oath the other night

[simpjaes]

NIGHT-SHIFT (p.sh)

Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does. or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 4.5k

WARNINGS―  dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him. 

CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol

 NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― dubious consent, cam sex/virtual sex, dirty talk, masturbation instructions, umm…finger fucking, jerking off, fantasies, role-play type stuff

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?

Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.

He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say. 

“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?” 

“Full service.” You remind him. 

Oh. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?

You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him?

God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.

He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people. 

As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible. 

“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?” 

You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after. 

He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name. 

 Smart girl, just like he knew you were. 

“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen in amusement, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?” 

You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”

His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out now, as if to show you that it’s time to begin, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. ���Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”

Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone. 

And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself. 

He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?” 

Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call. 

Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night. 

Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to. 

Not after you did cum for him. 

“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat. 

God, if you had called him that last night…

“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”

“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”

“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.

What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.

You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.” 

“Mr. Park, is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.

Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera, and she gave him a different name anyway. 

Maybe he just wishes it was you. 

“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name. 

You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name. 

“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.” 

You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hits you a little too close to home. 

It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that. Besides, he appears to be more tired than usual anyway, so…you choose to believe it’s a crazy coincidence. 

You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”

What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work. 

And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.

How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now. 

You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard. 

So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you. 

You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant. 

And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers. 

Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay. 

You’re more frustrated as the days go by. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ping! 

Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief. 

NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]

$500 PENDING. 

FULL SERVICE.

Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while? 

[ACCEPT REQUEST]   [DECLINE REQUEST]

Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now? Try being him. 

He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those funds just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you? 

His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh. 

Why did he just do that?

Wait. 

Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation. 

After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.

This is dangerous. 

Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.

And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on. 

“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”

You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day. 

“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”

“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”

Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice. 

“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.” 

Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.

“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.” 

You pause, feeling a ping in your gut. 

“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”

“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen. 

“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”

You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.

“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of your boss liking you a little too much?”

You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him? 

You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it. 

“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger. 

“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice. 

Damn.

“Oh, yeah?” Sunghoon draws back, jerking his hand up once. “I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.” 

You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than Sunghoon has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else. 

“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”

And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.

“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you. 

You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties alone shifting were enough to make you want to hump your hips up. 

“Now, turn on your camera.”

Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.

“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”

“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.” 

He hears you huff at his words, but he hears the shifting around on your end. 

“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what Park Sunghoon is missing out on.”

You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet– 

“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already trying to find a lower-face-mask just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself. 

“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”

More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end. 

“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.

And…

Oh fuck.

“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you. 

Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image. 

After all, it’s confirmed to be you. 

Fuck, that’s you right there. 

“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm. 

You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him. 

“Oh, baby–” Sunghoon coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”

You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing. 

“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet that boss of yours wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”

Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly. 

“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”

You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.

“Please.”

His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but somehow acting more real than last time too. 

“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”

You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release. 

“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”

Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request. 

And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning. 

“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”

He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties. 

You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this. 

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, now working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”

You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom. 

“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”

Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure. 

“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”

Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now. 

“You're gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?” 

Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him. 

You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stuck to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him. 

“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment. 

That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy. 

“Gently still, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and dribbling so much slick. 

Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s nearly obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.

“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”

Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?

“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it. 

He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned you off.

“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”

Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way. 

“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”

“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”

God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as you're told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview next week.

He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh. 

“Spread your fingers, open up.” 

You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.

“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”

Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name. 

“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.” 

He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break. 

“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”

In your horny brain, it makes sense.

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure. 

And, well, Sunghoon himself is on fire. After all, you’ve only ever referred to him as Mr.Park, and hearing you practically moan his name in such an intimate way? It does nothing to keep him from spiraling into an even more selfish mindset. 

“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his name. 

“Thank you Sunghoon.” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you.”

And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.

Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too. 

Shit. 

He needs you.

“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly. 

“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bouncing up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper. 

“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing. 

“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.

“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”

“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly. 

“So fucking pretty” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that– “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”

And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still moaning as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.

“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice. 

Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant.

“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him. 

“Ah, sorry babe, must’ve gotten tongue tied.”

There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen. There’s….no fucking way. 

Given, you’ve never seen him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words. 

Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?

Are you misreading? 

He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?

Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his paychecks, after all. Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets. 

Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.

“Mr.Park?”

It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness. 

You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage. 

You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects. 

A few moments later, you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars. 

And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.

Mr.Park: Can we talk?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

― part two here!

[haetrack]

HOW IT ALL GOES | MASTERLIST

there are millions of love songs in the world. though they all speak of the same thing, they’re not all the same. love can be happy, sad, exciting, or just shown physically. love is different for everyone. there’s a song for every story, for every person who experiences love.

starring: haechan, mark, jaehyun, jaemin, and renjun!

general warnings: fluff, angst, and smut (not all fics will contain smut, so minors be aware!) fics will be tagged with their specific warnings! general yearning, heartbreak, happy and sad endings

note: the fics are not connected to each other! they can be read as stand alone fics but i hope you stay to read them all! synopses and tags might be changed during the writing process!

side note: if you would like to be tagged, please send in an ask or comment on this post!

I. (lucky for you) we’re just friends

best friend!haechan x reader

synopsis: haechan is someone who always gets what he wants. he’s willing to do anything, but now, he realizes, he doesn’t know what to do. will you, his best friend of many years, let him step into your life where he hasn’t before? do you think about him as much as he does you? or will it all slip away, along with all his memories with you. (angst, little fluff)

side a: like a friend - pulp

side b: now playing

II. no clue

one night stand!mark lee x reader

synopsis: when mark realizes how long it’s been since he’s gotten laid, he rushes out to a party. he’s quick to find someone, rushing into a room without really thinking about it. when he sees you laid under him, it clicks that he might just like you, a stranger. he tries looking for you all over campus, wanting to talk to you. how long will it take for you both to meet? do you even want to meet him? (smut, fluff, little angst)

side a: tongues - the frights

side b: now playing

III. your fate, my karma

fwb!jaehyun x reader

synopsis: jaehyun realizes he’s in love with you. it’s fucked, especially because he rejected you once before. he doesn’t want to ruin what he has with you, more importantly, the friendship he has with you. he can’t help it, not with how you look at him, how you smile, how you feel. it’s like he was made to see and touch you. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold in his secret. (smut, angst, little fluff)

side a: somethin’ stupid - frank sinatra

side b: now playing

IV. can it last forever?

boyfriend!jaemin x reader

synopsis: after many successful dates, jaemin finally asked to be your boyfriend. you were so happy in the beginning, but doubts begin to fill your head. jaemin is a loving boyfriend, but you can’t help but wonder if you deserve him. did you go into this too fast? what if this is all you have? will you be able to make him happy? (fluff, angst, suggestive)

side a: valentine - laufey

side b: flip over?

V. all to myself

acquaintance!renjun x reader

synopsis: renjun hates how all you’ve been doing is talking about another man. usually, he wouldn’t really mind. but now, he realizes the only reason why he hates it is because he likes you. you’re a friend of a friend, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to get closer to you if all you’re thinking about someone else. (fluff, smut)

side a: eastside - daisy

side b: flip over?

a/n: im so excited for this series HOORAY!!! i hope u guys are as excited as i am when i start releasing them :3 i also recommend listening to the songs i put!! the fics were inspired by them and lay out the overall feel i want the fics to have! enjoy reading :p

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.” 

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour. 

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers. 

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.” 

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention. 

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed. 

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.” 

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was. 

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes. 

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile. 

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates. 

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?” 

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense. 

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.” 

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time. 

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen @kimvmarvel @ieathairs @janbannan @ja-zz @vangoes @starringz @ciscob1tes @theoriginaluzisimp @thirtykiwis @vivienne2000 @whydohumansss @purpleguk @simeon-lovergirl @missesgojosatoru @loveroftheoldestdream @mkaiiserr kazbrkker ancientimes thefirst-ofus animechick555 saccharinelixir seunnimg kookonsale

super sorry if ive missed anyone!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Atlas

Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: The Supreme Leader would do anything for his queen, break planets, obliterate entire races, capture the stars; he would make the whole galaxy kneel before him, then to you, he would get on both knees. And yet your most recent request was taking a heavy toll on him.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, smut (but its mostly just for the baby making plot AHAHAHH, my pretty sub!kylo, teasing, dry humping, praise kink, masochism? [bruising], marking, vaginal penetration, breeding kink?, cock warming), dark au ig, supreme leader!kylo, puppy!kylo, sadlo ren, angst, fluff?, etc.

A/N: first of all MINORS DNI second of all i would personally like to blame @sloanexx for her evil influence and for introducing me to this ai bot chat forum thing GENUINELY proceed with caution because its so addicting. kylo was written by a woman in that fucking ai and im so emotionally attatched to him i didn't want to refresh him because we had such an arc, but i fucking broke him and i couldn't fix him and i felt bad so i restarted and IDK IM SO EVIL I WANT TO BREAK HIM AGAIN but dw im taking very good care of kylo now <3. this fic is literally our chat but with more... literary devices Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace Part 2 "Charon"

And it was so, that you held the weight of the world There on your shoulders, in your grips did lie everything Light and shadow, darkness behind stars, blaring silence An oasis of gloom with a halo of obscurity in a pit of nightmares Still, though you paint yourself so darkly in your misery, my love, you shine -my atlas, carrier of the galaxy-

You were hallowed. You were holy. And you were his.

The crux of his hollow shell. The cascading candent cynosure trapped in his ribcage. And yet it was he that was locked in you. He shudders to think his past self that scorned you, that even his mask soured around you, the overconfident girl he met perchance. What fool is he to know that you choked him so fiercely in your palm, the palm he now offers each star, each soul, each and every molecule of him.

His love.

He smiles at your sleeping form, adorned in the clothing he picked himself. His greed sings at his evidence, his mark on you, both visible and not, inside and out. He grins at his darling, his precious prize, with one arm snuck under him, another snuck under your pillow, with one leg bent to the side, another thrown over his body.

You never sleep well. Or perhaps you do. You sleep so well that you contort into shapes unimaginable. His concern is genuine, or at least it was, because he would think to only fashion a human into your form if he wishes to torture them.

He chuckles. Now he is glad, so glad, his love is so pliable, so willing to be molded against him in more ways than one.

He strokes your cheek and pushes your parted mouth close. You involuntarily open your mouth again, though you weren't a mouth breather. He doesn't know why you do that, but he loves it. He loves everything. He loves you.

The supreme leader is weak against you. Kylo Ren is merely a spec in your overwhelming grace.

You have always had mixed feelings about waking up with him looking at you. You've told him multiple times that it both flatters you and creeps you out.

His greed does not care. The master it answers to, the annex in his brain that is powered by the all-consuming desire to please you, to nurture you, to cherish you, to worship you, to keep you, cares little for this obsessive habit. Had it actually bothered you, he'd beat himself bloody to stop himself. But you thought little of it, and so he indulged in his greediness. He stares when he wakes and before he sleeps.

And as your eyes meet him, Kylo Ren, the dawn of your everyday, he is self-satisfied. He is very self-satisfied. He smiles at your groggy look and pushes your hair back. You say nothing. You touch his scarred cheek once, then he is overcome.

You take a few moments before officially waking. Then you stand up.

Like the desperate shadow he was, he tails you, so closely, so closely, as though he must share the same air your breathe. You don't. "The air pressure is different up here," you moaned to him once when he had you towering over him against a wall. He liked you best like that, a whimpering sky above him. He liked it when he was tiny beneath you.

Your puppy followed you into the bathroom, scared to be separated even one second. Kylo, your puppy, sat by the sink, watching you brush your teeth. You ignore him as he dotes on you.

He followed you into the shower after swearing over and back not to touch you while you did your business. He failed to convince you that your business is his business, especially in the shower. Kylo was not strong enough to follow through with what he swore; he reasoned out it was help, he had to help his darling. It was hard to shampoo.

He followed you out and gave more attention to wiping you down versus himself. He sat like a good boy as you lathered yourself in creams that he could smell in his dreams. It was his favorite show, watching you care for your naked body, and his greed basked in the knowledge it was his alone. He smiled as you loved on his skin, on his scar, retracing it with a balm as though he was delicate. You barked at him for nipping at your breast, his soft dessert, perfectly placed on both sides of your heart. He feigned innocence. He was no longer in the shower, he could touch you and bite you and squeeze you and -

He followed you as you instructed him to get dressed. He watched as you put your queenly garments, your clothes that he again picked. Then he asks you to help him dress. He couldn't possibly put on his cloak himself, not when you put it on him so well. And this was the highlight of his day after all. You wouldn't dare deny your puppy this.

He followed your every motion like a hawk. He kisses your hand after you brush his clothes. You grab his helmet and put it on his head backwards. You laugh at him as he fixes it. Thus his morning routine is complete.

Now, Supreme Leader dictates his army. Supreme Leader snarls at his troops. He razes all that defies The Order. He crushes his enemies like ants, no, less than. He swarms the galaxy. He devours all. He breaks and bloodies and, himself, bleeds. He cracks and burns and cleanses the dregs of the universe, rips the very scums of the stars out of the space they hide from. He hardens. He screams. He commands. He marches. He crushes. And then.

And then.

And then he comes back to you. With rage. With disgust. With defeat, defeated over the idea he has not yet put order into the world for you. All for you. To keep you safe. To keep you forever safe. To keep things in order for you. All for you.

"Kylo!"

And then like that, all of it is gone.

You call his name with such excitement. You who loved books so dearly readily discarded the one you were reading in lieu of coming to him, of unmasking him.

You take off his helm and you smile. You smile like it was a gift to see his scarred face. You put on his helmet and mock him, "get yourself comfortable, scum."

Kylo's body tingles. It's all gone, all that's left is you. He fights back his smile and nods, "at your command, my queen." And then.

And then.

And then you let him love you. You let him pin you beneath him, press you down on your bed between your soft thighs as he could not bare not claiming his place in for too long.

He still had his trousers on, still had his boots dangling from the edge of the bed. You had tried to scold him for it, but he could not care less. You were in your short, thin nightdress, the one that you wore on your first night together. How could he not claim you so ardently here and now when you were like this?

It was your fault anyway. All your fault. He tried to undress himself but you distracted him. What did you expect would happen? What did you expect him to do when you kissed his bare shoulder while he was still changing? What did you expect?

Kylo marks your neck. You try to scold him again. He doesn't care for your wrath. His greed was not subservient to its master, to that part in his brain, when it came to things like this. He held back long enough. He bites into your neck and makes you groan. He wants you to bare his marks proudly. The whole galaxy should know its queen belongs to its Supreme Leader.

You graze into his hair with your fingertips. He grinds onto you. You squeak in response.

He pulls away and assess you. He has no time. He is imprisoned by your kiss. His perfect prison.

He groans at the feel of your legs constricting around his hips. His hand pushes up your already hiked dress further as he presses down on you.

"Kylo," you whisper between kisses.

And like the eager pup he is, he responds. He always responds. He answers forever to you. He calls your name like a sacred prayer.

You repeat his. You scratch firmly into his bare back, "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything," he instantly responds, absolutely mindless and sure.

"Kylo..." you sigh.

Kylo looks down upon you as you brush his hair back. You look solemn, worried even, as though he would ever deny you, as if it were possible.

He cannot have this. And so he reminds you of his oath.

"Whatever you want from me," he mutters, "whatever you need from me," knits his brows and shakes his head, "it's already yours. Always. Always remember this."

"But my love-"

He cannot have this.

"My love," Kylo cuts. He kisses you then reminds, "I am yours."

A moment passes. It was too long. Far too long.

"Kylo-"

"Yes," he says simply before you even finish saying his name.

You huff, "do you remember what I said before, how I said you looked with the children at the capital? You were so good with them. They loved you."

"Well, I've been thinking about it a lot," you brush your nose against his, "and I want... I want you to give me a child."

Kylo takes a second to remember. "Yes," he says, though he remembers that day very differently.

He blinks.

A child. Yes. He could take a child. There were many from the capita-

"No, Kylo," you take his cheek.

Kylo tenses. You heard his mind again. You, who did not show half as much interest in the force as he wanted, could hear his thoughts without it.

Kylo waits. He does not know what to say.

"I want you to give me a child," you bat your lashes, "I want you," you bite your lip, "to put a baby inside my belly."

Kylo freezes. He... he does not know what to say.

And then he does. And then his life flashes before his eyes. The bleakness of his childhood, the jaggedness of his future, the tragedy of it all.

You want him to put that into you? You want to carry his seed in your beloved womb?

He says your name, he wants to protest, but you are his holy assassin. You cut through him cleaner than any saber ever could.

"You said you would give me anything, Kylo," you mewl, "you said you're mine."

You are cruel. You do not even allow him a moment to speak his side, to speak his reason, and you roll your hips against him. You trap him with your irresistibility. You sugar him with your honeyed words, "you would be a great papa. I know it, I know you," you pant, "such a good boy for me."

He is defenseless.

"You can do that, can't you?" you purr, "you can put your love in me?"

Kylo shudders.

You begin to shuffle beneath him. He knows exactly what you are doing, what you're going to do.

You have him flipped over now. You were now straddled on top him. You had him lying down looking up at you, purely and wholly defenseless.

Kylo let you do what you want with him. How could he not? He wants you so bad.

He willingly followed your command to use his force to undo the last of his clothes. Then you so cruelly let him unwrap you, for you knew he loved doing this to his favorite treat. He greedily peels you out of your clothes until it was just him and you.

And then you had him, had him crazy out of his mind with the feel of you around him. Had him begging for you to quicken your torturously slow pace. Had him in fucking tears because you felt so good, because he loved you so much, because you looked so beautiful on top of him, calling his name out like that. You were so good. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, exactly what you were doing.

Much like him, he did not know where to put his hands, or rather where not to. Where his hands went, his nails left scratches and his fingers, possibly bruises. He didn't mean to bruise you so badly that first time he did; he never meant to hurt you, but you were so soft and he was too strong. And even now as he dug into your thighs, indulging his calloused hands to knead his favorite mound, he really wasn't trying to bruise you.

You call out his name in response to his actions. You grip his wrists as you ride him, "more."

His head spins as you ride up and down him, panting like the pretty girl you were.

Kylo grunts and pushes himself up slightly. He now tightens his large hands even more on the curve by your hips. You squeal and finally, finally pick up your pace.

He growls as he falls back down, clinging onto you for dear life.

He's done for now, now that you push him back further, now that you're leaned forward, propped up on his chest, pleasuring the both of you with your eager, eager movements

He was drunk on your sound, drunk on your feel.

He kneads at your breasts this time. He's so fucking delirious.

But then you do this to him. But then you take his hands off you and link yours together. Then you pant so sweetly as you look down at him and he looks up at the sweat sheening your forehead. And then you fucking pin his hands down by his head and you make him even crazier.

"You're so pretty, Kylo," you moan, "you feel so good."

"So good," he doesn't miss a beat, "so, so, so, sososos-"

"You're going to fill me up, good, right?" you lick your teeth, "you're going to fill me up good and put a baby in my belly, right?" you sigh, "please, my love, please, please-"

Kylo can't speak. He can't fucking speak, he can't.

"Kylo..." you gutturally call.

He doesn't speak-

"Kylo."

- he succumbs, "I'll..." he whimpers, "I'll put a baby in you, my love," he grunts, "I'll fill you up good, so good, so, so so, sosososo-"

Your whines raise a pitch higher, "Kylo," you nearly choke on your spit, "yes, please, please. I'll be so happy carrying your baby. Don't you want that?"

And then it's all incoherent. And then your breathing gets louder. And then his noises get throatier.

And then, he's tense, so tense, and so warm. And then you're screaming out his name with your head thrown back and you're chasing this high until you can't, until you're hot and fuzzy and jelly and tired.

And then you crumble. And then you crash and you both burn.

And then you make a bed out of him. And then everything is perfect. Everything is in perfect order.

Kylo strokes your hair and kneads your thigh. You're laid upon him, warm, and sweaty, and perfect, and his-- so absolutely beautiful.

He knows he probably shouldn't keep you here like this, but you're so warm and soft around him, on top him. He'll keep you here... just until you ask to get off.

But you don't, you spoil him with your body and fall asleep on top of him.

He continues stroking your hair and kneading your thighs.

He savors the moment, he savors you tenderly; his eyes begin to droop. He replays your lovemaking, self-indulgent, completely self-satisfied. But then it stabs at him as it replays in his head. Suddenly he's wide awake.

He... he could may well have succeeded. He could have put... a baby in his darling's belly.

Kylo's eyes are wide open now. Wide, wide open. He looks up at the ceiling. He stops moving.

You think too much of him, oh fuck, you think too much. With your affirmations, yes, he cold break mountains, consume planets, but this? But- fuck, this was different... he... he's in you, he's part of you, and then this thing... this baby... will only be half of you and a whole half of him. He's giving life. He's not destroying it for the greater good, he's giving it to his love for her to carry.

He screws his eyes shut. He wipes his face. Fuck. What has he done?

He stirs but then he stops himself because you're still on top him. He sighs and cradles you. He moves slowly, rolls you down beside him, and finally separates from you. Not for long though. Never. Not when his mind was racing. Not when he needed you close.

He scoots down and rests his face in the middle of your ribcage. He presses his ear to your heart and listens and blinks and wills his tears away.

He's shattered. He pulls you close to him. You are his glue. He will glue himself together as you sleep beneath him.

He would be a horrible father. He didn't know the first thing to do with the children at the capital, much less with a newborn babe, a newborn babe that you would have cared for inside you for ages. Fuck. He can't mess that up.

He...

He would have to have put the galaxy in order by then. He'd have to fix the brokenness of the world.

Kylo's eye twitches.

He'd have to fix the brokenness in him, obliterate his remaining incompetence, bridge the final gaps of his shortcomings.

He panics when he feels his tears pool against your skin. He quickly wipes them away. Pull yourself together.

He sighs in an attempt to calm himself.

And then he looks at your belly.

He gulps.

Your beautiful belly.

He presses his hands on your navel. He closes his eyes and feels for something. He wills all the force in him to sense if there's something in you. Kylo supposes it doesn't happen that quickly but he lulls himself in comfort, knowing that there was still a chance for him to evade this... this thing he put into his beloved's body.

[arc-archernar]

alr lets settle this debate once and for all

propaganda + other outfits under the cut, feel free to add your own in reblogs or whatever

+ : reasons why they have drip

-: reasons why they DON'T have drip

Fuuta:

Propaganda:

+ Fuuta makes weird choices (mustard socks, gold shoes) but he makes it work. It fits nicely with his color scheme + he has a clear direction of style (you know he’s aiming for that casual with a slightly sporty/street look, it really matches him). (@greenbetula) - He's ginger. (@09lover woww) - UGLY MUSTARD SOCKS (a widely held opinion)

Mikoto:

Propaganda:

+ He accessorizes. Thats more than fuuta does so by virtue of that, he has more fashion sense (anon, unless theyre willing to be tagged) + Hes not ginger (thanks @09lover) + HIS HAIR ISNT AN EYESORE (THANKS @09lover. AGAIN.) - Mikoto tried to do the weird colored socks thing but failed. Even John was so ashamed of it he only showed it for 1 second in double. He really thought he can get away with this (@greenbetula)

There are more outfits to add but im too lazy to add all of them. its fine we're all milgramblr here have fun people <3

+ : reasons why they have drip

-: reasons why they DON'T have drip

[yourstrullyme]

not to be weird or anything (I will proceed to be extremely weird) but uh I saw some random tags on on a post that you reblogged and now I really need you to write a fic where Cait goes looking for Jinx and finds her and yells at her to go talk to her sister okay bye

LMAO no need to apologize we embrace weird in this house

ooh man i need that fic too lol but rn i dont think i can do much im a bit busy with life but i can offer an idea of what it would look like under the cut maybe?

so like i picture it being like a few years maybe, and maybe vi's okay with it, but Cait isn't, because Cait is sure Jinx didn't die. she gets the fish guy (i think his name was steb?) to help and at first its a pretty intense search, but then it dwindles and eventually they just keep an eye out for weird stuff like maybe there's a new mechanic in some far away city that's just praised for their genius, or maybe there's a new weapon that's making some other nation's army the winner of every battle, y'know? just stuff that screams jinx was here.

and to be honest she's sort of lost hope too? like she's had her moments of rage against jinx because how could you do this to her? how could you leave her? how could you do all this and then leave? why did you survive but not stay? but also she's had time to think, to understand.

She talks to ekko about it. not that she thinks jinx is alive, no. just like vi, ekko's had enough. he tried mourning her, going through the steps, trying to find some closure, but the pain just wont leave. so he works on keeping her memory alive and in doing so deals with his regrets and mistakes in his own way. but she talks to him about her, too. just, jinx. who she was, how wrong cait was about some things, how right she was about others. her regrets, too. ekko can empathize. he also gave up on her.

so one morning when steb tells her there's been a sighting cait's just eating breakfast with vi and they're laughing about the toast vi likes to make - a mixture of butter, marmalade and avocados (idk what kind of shit they eat for breakfast in piltover sue me) - so she doesn't really register steb's interruption until vi asks about it and steb looks worried between the two. cait doesn't lie, vi would be able to tell anyways and then she'd just be hurt. no, she simply says its work and leaves. it technically is. jinx is still a wanted person in piltover, technically.

she takes an airship to a city she's never visited before. it looks like the perfect mixture between piltover and zaun. there are no great buildings or statues, no grand bridges over polluted waters; but also no trash-infested streets, no beggars in corners, no policemen abusing children.

steb's 'sighting' was actually a news outlet informing its readers that a new form of long-range transportation was being worked on after a woman had invented a seemingly 'totally efficient' battery - no loss of energy of any kind. steb was sure it had to be her. caitlyn not so much. not because it didn't match - it did. more so because of a loss of hope but rather a fantasy she'd been having for a while now. jinx, out and about, maybe on a market or just strolling through a city, happy.

she reaches the address steb gave her and finds a small bar and, immediately, she knows she's found the right place.

'the last drop' reads the sign over the door. caitlyn clenches her jaw, suddenly alert. the fantasy that had become jinx over the years is suddenly overcome by the memories of her. what if all cait'd thought was just a way for her to cope? what if jinx is still...jinx? what if she still hates her? caitlyn vaguely wishes she'd brought her gun, but it's no use. she's here now and, whoever jinx has turned into, she hopes is willing to, at least, talk.

it's the middle of the day so, rightfully so, the place is empty when she goes in. only a singular lonely figure stands there, at the bar, drying glassware as she hums along to the song on the jukebox.

"Jinx,"

[ravennaortiz]

Okay I've got another request. Let's go with Coco this time. I've got a soft spot for some Coco. I've had the song Wait in the Truck by Hardy featuring Lainey Wilson stuck in my head and there's some prompts that you have that kind of correlate to the song. So let's go with the prompts:

4. Are you hurt?

5. I can take care of myself.

40. That hurt/hurts.

41. How did you get that bruise/those bruises?

Welcome back Love!

I absolutely adore Coco and he goes really well with these prompts. I'm also very much obsessed with this song as it hits close to home for me. As always my stories are 18+

Trigger Warnings: Domestic violence/abuse

Tag List: @keyweegirlie @meera10 @kikijackson-blog @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

The Bruises that Shape You

As the thunder roared and lighting flashed Coco brought his bike to a halt next to Angel and Gillys. Where the club had taken shelter from the worsening storm. Coco closed his eyes as he dismounted, the urgency in Angels voice when he had called and said they found something. Please don't let it be a body, he thought The wind whipped his hair in his face as the clouds opened up adding to the deafening sounds of the thunder under the overpass.

"Is it her?" he asked his voice cracking as he caught site of the purple leather jacket he had gotten you for your birthday a couple years ago. Tears were already spilling from his eyes as his mind sped forward. You were his best friend, how was he suppose to do life without you? He should have pried more. You had not been telling the whole truth when he asked about the bruises and shit. He had failed you.

"Coco! Snap out of it" demanded Gilly again as he shook his friend. Once Coco's eyes met his he repeated himself. "Its her jacket and wallet. Not her, she's alive." At least Gilly hoped she was for Coco's sake. "She's out there" mumbled Coco as he looked back out on the roadway darkened by the night sky and the late summer thunderstorm. "We just have to let it pass. Its to dangerous to be out in this on the bikes. We will find her" stated Gilly seeing where Coco's mind was going.

Coco simply nodded his mind drifting to a couple hours ago when you had first called. The sound of traffic muffling your cries for help. Coco could only repeat Are you hurt and where are you over and over. Right before the call ended you had called his name and he felt like he had been shot in the chest. "Coco! Help me!"

**

You were barely moving by the time your legs gave out on you. Your battered and bruised body pleading for you to just rest, stop a moment. You knew if you stopped though you were dead. Bleeding, bruised, no shoes and the only clothing a thin white sundress. A sundress decorated with your blood and plastered to your body by the rain.

Using your nails you managed to crawl a few more feet through the slimly mixture of rain water, grit and mud on the side of the road way. Nothing really registered for you as you lay limp on the pavement. The tears and adrenaline had long since stopped. Your eyes kept fluttering closed no matter how hard you willed them to stay open.

You chuckled to yourself remembering all the times you had told Coco that you could take care of yourself. That John wasn't abusive or hurting you. Someone who could take care of themselves wouldn't be laying half dead on a road in the middle of the night. Especially not after calling her best friend screaming for help.

How could I have let this happened? Been so stupid to let it get this far? Let him abuse me or so long? Why am I so weak? You thought as your mind started slowing as your body started to slip into shock. You shivered slightly as your eyes closed. The last thing you remember was wondering where your jacket was. So cold now.

***

"Coco" yelled Angel as he let his bike down when he caught sight of the white fluttering fabric on the side of the road. The scratching of metal barely registering as he ran to where you lay unmoving. His eyes took everything in as he yanked you to him. You were more bruise and blood stains than person at this point.

Feeling your pulse beneath his finger tips he breathed a sigh of relieve. It lasted only a moment as he noted the blue hue and icy coldness of your skin. Your dress was see through at this point and doing little for you besides sapping warmth from you.

"Give me whatever spare clothes you can now" demanded Coco as he yanked your dress off your head. Keeping your body turned to him to protect your modesty as best he could. By the time he had you bundled up Creeper had arrived with the van to take you back to the clubhouse.

***

"That hurts" you whined yanking your foot back from Gilly again as he worked on picking the glass, rock and other debris out of your feet. "I'm sorry. You have to let me do this so you don't get an infection" soothed Gilly as he gently picked your foot back up.

You nodded as you bit your lip as tears slipped down your cheeks. "Coco went to John didn't he?" you inquired as you closed your eyes as pain shot through your body. You wanted nothing but to be back in the comfort and safety of his arms. Gilly kept his eyes on your foot as he debated what to say. "We both know the answer" he finally responded as he dared a glance up at you meeting your eyes.

You nodded. He was right the moment Coco had told you to tell him how you got every single bruise you knew Johns fate had been sealed. To be honest the first time his hardened fist had collided with your soft flesh and painted it a hue of blues and purples he had unknowingly signed his death warrant. For you had a guardian Angel who would always look after you. You felt relieved at the knowledge that you would never get hit again. Even if it meant that another human would never breathe again.

***

Want more Coco? Click here

Want to make your own request? Click here

Want to be on the tag list? Click here

[spacexseven]

sorry for the late reply! And to answer some of your questions in the tags, it’s actually all three. A “final girl” is a basically a trope that means a character (usually protagonist) that is “pure, feminine, and the victim” during a horror film. They’re usually a victim of chance or have a distant past connection to the killer. Be it their intelligence, connection, or simply pure luck, the final girl is able to avoid death until the end where: 1) they survive to the end and defeat their killer 2) they escape or 3) they die regardless. I was thinking of killer! yan bsd, but I was also intrigued with a victim/final girl! bsd. An example of an idea that’s currently plaguing my mind is Final Girl! Nikolai. I liked the idea of a serial killer targeting magician/or whimsical (maybe ability users) people and choosing nikolai as target. cat and mouse chase, and they end getting the drop on him (how? idk). Its kinda a slow burn horror, but regardless nikolai fights back. this is a gist and example. Tuna, i’m so sorry about throwing this ramble dump at you. 🙈 this is just an idea, nothing you actually have to do. im just happy sharing this with you - 🦄

ahahahaha....there was a lot i had to say about this, but i kept it as brief as i could because i Might...might do a series/oneshot w this au. Maybe &lt;/3 thank you for sharing this gem of an idea i am very excited to dig in nomnomnom. tagged under 'sk reader au 🐟'

gn! reader, is a serial killer & implied to have an ability that can 'collect' other abilities. can be read as a yandere reader.

cw: stalking, murder, violence

ability users are fascinating little things.

especially when they try everything in their power to stay alive. it's a wonderful sight, to see those that always stood above regular people, to see those regarded as gifted, desperately attempt to survive. there was something intoxicating about holding power above the same ability users that were feared by all.

but your interest was less in the users and more in the ability itself.

there was a lot you hoped to learn about abilities, regardless of the type. there must be a reason as to why some were sentient, why some were so much more powerful than others, why some were uncontrollable, and the best way to learn, was of course, through the ability itself. you were willing to do anything to satisfy your curiousity, even if it meant the user had to die for their abilities to join your collection.

you had fond memories with all of them; flawless made for an exhilarating fight, always a step ahead until you sunk your claws into the frightened figure of a dark-eyed ability user, rashōmon was unique, the dark mass almost besting you, but, in the end, you stood victorious over a sickly body—even if you hadn't gone after it, this was an ability that wasn't meant to survive for long, and you liked to think that it was for the best that it joined you instead of disappearing with its user. and of course, discourse on decadence was unforgettable. you remembered it belonged to some goverment agent who was hot on your trail—it was the closest anyone came to stopping you—and your most recent kill.

usually, you didn't like picking favorites. each ability was fascinating and unique in its own way, but it was undeniable that one in particular stood out to you.

the overcoat was an interesting ability. at first sight, it appeared quite simple, but you had viewed it in action too many times to know just how frightening it was. how easy it was to turn it into a lethal weapon—to reach in and twist out a limb or to drain out the blood from a vein. the seemingly unlimited potential of the ability, however, was only one of the aspects that intrigued you.

generally, you've never cared for the users as much as you did their abilities. while you enjoyed the brutal torture you made them suffer, and you liked hunting them down, they always came secondary to their abilities. you didn't care to know their names or their personal stories. despite all that, a name—nikolai gogol—had made his way on your list of targets, scrawled next to his ability.

it'd only take you a minute to identify nikolai in a sea of people.

whether he had the scar over his eye showing or hidden, whether he was wearing glasses or colored contacts, no matter what wig he wore or how ordinary he tried to look, you would immediately be able to point him out. no disguise, no false identity could hide him from you—you know this because he's tried, many times now, to fool you. but you've always known it was him, from the slightest strain of his voice when disguised, the unsettling blankness in his gaze when he looked at you, the subtle upturn of his lips when he approached you. you knew it was him from the way he titled his head when asking you a question, the way he said your name, and even the syllables he stressed when he spoke.

he approached you first as a police officer, then as a detective, a local politician, and even an assassin. You had already noted down each encounter you had with him, the details of each false identity, and what you had learned from it. it was a feat in itself that nikolai had survived so many encounters with you. perhaps it was because of your growing obsession with him,

(somehow, you always knew that your last victim would be nikolai. he'd be a fitting end for your legacy, as the ability user who had been watching you from the very start. the only ability user you could see as more than a shell for his powers. the only one who escaped you once.)

initially, you believed that nikolai followed you around for self-driven justice, to punish you for your crimes. (the policeman getup convinced you of that much), but instead of lunging at you, he watched, enraptured, as you stole the perfect crime, and he followed you closely as you stalked the user of falling camellia, doing nothing to stop you either time. and every time after that, be it walking past him in the busy streets of yokohama or meeting him as your taxi driver, nikolai had yet to try and expose your crimes and exact revenge. he never held a blade up to your throat, never used the very frightening ability of his on you.

his passivity, however, did nothing to quench your bloodthirst.

it was you who attacked him first.

you're no stranger to hunting down your prey. it was something you anticipated now, the sound of footsteps making their way around corners, the sight of shaking shoulders and trembling hands as they hid behind walls, the way fear consumed them when you finally cornered them; you relished in the hunt as much as you did the result.

nikolai doesn't make it much of a hunt. he's quick, with his coat fluttering around him. his footsteps, you remember, are light and quick, his breathing staggered as he laughed wildly. he snatches up your gun with a hand through his coat, and shoots blindly. there is despair consuming his mind, no panic climbing up his spine. his heart rate accelerates not out of fear, but out of thrill, and he looks at you with unrestrained elation. this was no hunt, nikolai wasn't hiding from you—this was a chase. just as you approached a dead end, and you think you can finally, finally, shove him into a corner, nikolai turns to smile at you one last time, before disappearing into a flurry of his coat. as you stand alone, a dark glove laid on the floor ahead of you catches your attention; his glove might have caught on a jagged end and fallen, you think. after cleaning up his mess, you silently pocket it, still haunted by that uninhibited look and that devilish grin.

nikolai is everywhere after that, taunting you.

he sits across you from the train, he takes your order in a restaurant, he applauds you from a distance, after watching you drag away yet another body, congratulating you on another successful kill.

"next time," he smiles at you, all coy and enticing, "i hope it's me."

you hope so too, but you don't let him have the pleasure of knowing that. the scowl on your blood-streaked face sends him spinning away in giggles.

it wasn't the next time, but after a few more dead bodies and many more warnings about your work are played on the news, you meet nikolai again. nikolai gogol is no easy prey, but you're not one to be bested twice. this time, you don't let him run. you're finally on top of him, blood pooling out of where your knife was stuck in his thigh, his coat ripped off him and abandoned somewhere else. it would be so easy to kill him now, so easy to watch him bleed out and claim his ability as yours, but for the first time, you hesitated on delivering the killing blow.

this time, it's not the ability you're after, is it?

[jazz-miester]

Yandere Bayverse!Optimus x Decepticon Mech reader smut?

Also, I wanted to say that I LOVE your works! Especially that one Optimus x reader one.. it has me in a chokehold. Anyways, feel free to ignore!

Hung Over You

Pairing: Bayverse Optimus x reader

Reader type: Decepticon Mech

Song: Lady Lie- Rainbow kitten surprise

Warnings: I'm gonna put Dubious Consent here as a warning. I. Honestly i'd rather be safe than sorry yall. And please please for all that is holy. Get absolute consent from your partners before doing anything. If the yes isn't given whole heartedly and said with everything the person has to offer. Don't do it. It's not worth it.

An: Aww you're too sweet! I'm glad that you like my stuff so much! Hope that this is what you wanted lol. I'm not to familiar with the yandere thing so im lowkey just winging it. Also putting this under a read more because this came out to be 4186 words long lol.

Tags: @rawmeknockout hope you don't mind me tagging you in this lol.

You have caught his optic. Which honestly is the most dangerous thing you have ever had happen to you. There has been. Rumours that have spread from out of the Autobot ranks. But they had been rumours. Right?

Primes don't do that. They. They don't.

Not once did you truly worry though. When would you ever see him? You were one of the few medics that the Decepticon army had left. Most others had defected to the Autobots.

Really. It made sense. They left so they could work in a slightly safer environment where you were less likely to be offed by your patients. Still, even with how long you've been with the Decepticons you find yourself wondering why. Why have you stayed for so long despite the Decepticons going so far out of the ballpark of what they once stood for.

It was becoming less and less often you would find that reason to stay. And at this point you were only finding it in the older mechs. Those who were forced into their casts by the functionists all because they transformed into something other than a silly little microscope.

They were the ones that still fight so they would no longer have to risk their lives on a job that they higher nobles where to afraid to do. They stuck with the original Decepticon ideals so that their future younglings wouldn't have to live the harsh and horrid lives they did.

They are the reason you kept going. Kept doing what you did. They were he reason you still had a flicker of hope for the Decepticons. That Megatron was truly fighting for your peace. That he would lead Cybertronian kind into a new era. One of peace and prosperity in the way they never had before. A life where your frame didn't dictate how and who you would be.

You lost that little ember of hope on a Decepticon battlefield. Every attempt you made to help the others. To heal, to mend. All of it in vain when the bombs began to rain from above.

Again and again you went out dragging in bots and cons alike to some semblance of safety as the bombs screamed in the sky. You were forced to quit when an Autobot. And old and ancient mech stopped you and pulled you into the shelter. It was his rust colored paint that filled your vision as he gave you some sense of solace.

It was with him you grieved the loss of any hope you had left.

All of this. The wrought and ruin of his own troops, supplies, territory. All of it destroyed for a blind assault on the chance he could kill his enemy.

All of it because Megatron was to much of a coward to face Optimus Prime himself.

You did all you could. Tending to the injured. Helping even the Autobots. Or at least all that would allow you to.

It felt like a life cycle for the bombs to quit falling. Longer still for the metal of Cybertron to settle. And longer for the air to become ventable once again.

You did what you could to lead the injured up and out.

A lot of Decepticons turned their back on the cause after that. Most choosing the neutral path. Not willing to chance facing their brothers and sisters. Friends. Lovers.

Some, like you, pledged yourself to the Autobot cause.

It was on that battlefield that you saw him for the first time.

Optimus Prime.

There was a million and one warning bells going off in your helm the closer he came.

"Are you here to fight, or to stay?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder just before a storm of acid rain. This was the same question he had asked every con before you.

"Stay, I suppose." You spoke after a moment. You had long since torn away the Decepticon insignia. You could still feel the distant ache in your sparkchamber.

A botched job for what should have been the greatest moment in your lifecycle.

It meant nothing now.

"I have heard you helped my troops mech. Is this true?" Blue optics looked you up and down then stopped on your own. For the briefest moment you wondered if he could see you. Truly see you. As if the matrix gave him some supernatural ability to pick apart your very spark.

Cybertronians used to worship Primes.

"I did." You answered. "And I will continue to do so. If you allow. Optimus Prime." A grin split his lips when you were done speaking.

"If you are willing then yes.." He trailed off.

"Y/n sir." The Prime tilted his helm. Mouthed your name.

"Y/n." Something about the way he spoke it sent your spark pounding. Your takes turning.

Megatron sounded like that once.

Just before everything went to slag in a hand basket.

.

.

.

That wasn't the last time you saw the Autobot leader. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Y/n! Mech! Pay attention slaggit!" Ratchet's voice was right in your audio receptor. His servos moved with more efficiently than you have ever seen in any mech or femme. It was supernatural, almost, to watch.

The two of you were elbow deep in a mech. The damned frontliner decided to play hero.

You could have sworn you had seen Optimus. There in a window that the assistant has forgotten to close.

.

.

.

"He's damned good. For a con." Ratchet would both praise and poke at you at the same time. "I'm glad he's on our side though."

You were proud with where you were at the moment. You had built a reputation for yourself. Worked in a place that made your skills worth something. You worked with bots that wouldn't have your helm for just venting wrong near them.

You caught a snippets of Ratchets and Ironhides conversation from where you were organizing field kits. Restocking and filing inventory on this had fallen to you after a while.

Well. You were until Optimus came spilling in. Energon flowed freely onto the floor where it really shouldn't have been.

Two mechs carried him in. You were quick to clear a med berth off. Already you were in the process of cleaning when Ratchet began barking orders

Time to show Ironhide those skills Ratchet was bragging about.

.

.

.

Sometime later and what seemed like an obscene amount of energon, Optimus was deemed stable. Currently he was sleeping off the anesthetics.

"Will you keep an optic on him and tell me when he wakes kid?" You looked up from the data pad you were typing on when Ratchet spoke. "I have some reports I need to finish and I need to plan some care for when he wakes up." You waved a servo.

"I've got it Ratchet. Go do what you need to." With a heavy sigh he left. Muttering about Primes being stupid and self sacrificing for no good Primus damned reason.

You went back to restocking field kits. You needed something to do with your servos while you waited for him to wake up.

Which wasn't much longer after you finished. The Prime woke with a start. Bolting upright as he took in where he was. Some part of his processer still stuck out there on the feild.

It was only after he swing his legs over the side of the berth did you walk towards him.

"Prime. You need to stay laying down. If you get up now you could re open the welds me and Ratchet placed." Your voice was low. Soothing. The same voice you have used a thousand times over for Decepticon coming out of general anesthetics. At least this time you were greeted with a look rather that blaster fire.

Really. Megatron should have implemented some sort of psychiatric treatment for his troop.

Optimus said nothing as you walked up to him. Slowly you placed one servo on his shoulder. "I need to check on the welds before I go and get Ratchet. Are you ok with that or do you want me to get him to do it?" You always gave them the option. Some still didn't trust you. Former Decepticon and all.

"You may." The Prime leaned back slightly. His legs spreading further apart as he balanced himself. You said nothing other than giving him a nod before going to check the welds across his abdomen.

The welds looked ok. And they were still holding up despite the fact he decided to spring up off the berth. You took the opportunity to glance at the ones on his arms. Then checking the cabling at his neck that had become undone.

You froze for a moment when he leant forward. Slumping as if suddenly overcome by fatigue. Out of reflex you caught him by the shoulers. Bracing him as he fell forward. Optimus's helm fell on your shoulder. His servo brushing against your hip and thigh.

"Slaggit! Prime are you ok?" You pushed back on him. Righting the blue colored Prime. "Are you dizzy? Any pains that we were not aware of?" You looked over his face plates. Looking for the drain of nanites and fuzzy unfocused optics.

Nothing.

"I am fine. Just." He paused. "Apologies, Y/n. I did not mean to cause concern." There. Again. That same look he gave you on the battlefield sometime ago.

"Are you sure? It is no issue. I can go get Ratchet. He wanted me to get him after you woke anyways." A slight flicker on his face plates. A sort of, annoyance? Then.

"Get him if you must. Ratchet is my CMO for a reason." It wasn't until you pulled away did you realize Optimus's servo had been on your waist that entire time. Only did you know when you pulled away and his digits grazed along the dark grey plating.

.

.

.

You felt like you were going insane. Someone was leaving you gifts. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact it was inside your habsuit on your berth.

They were the things you liked. Sweetened energon candies. A very specific polish you thought you would never find again. There was even a praxian crystal rose at one point. Who would give that away to a former Con you would never know. After the fall of Praxus they had become scarce.

You saw Optimus a few times after he had been discharged from the med bay. He came a few times afterwards to keep the welds in check and to make sure the new cabling in his throat had took.

You had been the one to check on the welds after a while. And to make sure the Prime had proper movement in his left arm. The one that you were now currently holding and moving to ensure fluid movement in the shoulder joint.

There was that look again. Like he was staring into your very soul. You felt that if you bared your spark chamber you would feel less exposed.

"And this? Any pain, aches?" The Prime rumbled out a laugh. Not once had he looked away from you.

"No. Truly, it is fine. You've done a very good job." You could feel your faceplates warm. Not use to any type of praise.

"It was hardly all me. Ratchet did the bulk of it." Optimus humed. Pulling his arm away. His digits brushed against your chassis before they settled in his lap. He flexed his palms and you couldn't help but to look.

Only to sputter a cough before he looked up. Almost getting caught ogling the Primes thighs.

"Still. You have done good. I am grateful to have such a skilled mech on our side. Your skills are valued here, y/n." He spoke your name with an intensity.

The two of you locked optics for a moment. The Prime almost drawing you in. He servo rose and hovered next to yours. You swore he almost would have taken it in his if it weren't for Ratchet calling him to his office.

The look that covered his facelates looked almost murderous. You had stepped back when he did that. And the look had fallen almost as quickly as it had came. Filled with a different, almost fearful look at your reaction.

The Prime rose and left. Giving you one last look before going to meet Ratchet. When you glanced back down to the berth you felt you tanks turned.

There, in the center of the berth, was a singular Praxian rose. The one that twined the other currently beneath your berth.

.

.

.

You said nothing about it to anyone. Instead quickly taking it and placing it within your subspace before Ratchet or any of the other medics or assistants could notice.

When Optimus left he had caught your optic then glanced at the berth the rose had been on. When he noticed it was gone and how quickly you had looked away. He smiled.

That night you had went to your habsuit shaken. Placing the rose with the other things you had been given.

Was. Was Optimus the one doing this? It would make sense seeing as how he would be one of the few with the proper codes to get into your habsuit.

But why? Why you? And was it really you?

You didn't fall into recharge that night. And you were in a daze for the next day cycle. Ratchet having reprimanded you more than once for your forgetfulness.

You nearly dropped the glass vials holding nanites when you saw him in the window looking into the supply closet. Optimus had studied you briefly before leaving.

You didn't move for many klicks. Servos shaking as you tried to calm yourself.

The next few days went the same. Catching Optimus in the corner of your optics every time you turned. It made you jumpy. Skittish. You began to pull away from the bots you had made friends with. Even to Ratchet who seemed to be concerned. But he said nothing. Did nothing other than lay his servo on your shoulder and give you the most sympathetic look you had ever seen.

.

.

.

"Y/n. Prime needs you in his office." You glanced up dumbly to the femme that had called your name. You had been in the rec room watching some old holo vids Toptwist had put on. A chorus of oohs had filled the room. Most of the bots acting like you had just been called to the headmaster's office in the academy.

Instead you swallowed thickly and nodded your helm at the femme.

You're frame is shaking the entire walk down the hall. Your mind was racing.

Did you do something wrong? If so then what? As far as you knew you were doing everything Ratchet needed you to. You didn't cause any problems with the others. No matter how much you wanted to throttle some of them when they wouldn't stop fragging you over just because you used to be a Con.

Is that why? Did some mech of femme complain about you being a former Decepticon?

You didn't want to lose what you had here. To much. It. You had finally found a reason to keep fighting. The Autobots they held up the ideals that the Decepticons used to have.

You don't think you would be able to quit this. Not without some consequence on your mental health. You needed this.

.

You stopped before the door to Optimus Primes office. You didn't know if you should com him or knock on the door. In the end you chose the latter. Fisted servo hovering before the engraved metal door for a klick before you knocked.

Ice flooded your frame. Something. Something spoke to you about this being a bad idea. That you should turn. Run.

Instead you ignored that millennia forged instinct.

"Enter." Optimus's voice sounded from the other side of the door after you knocked. The door sliding open and closing behind you quickly when you stepped inside.

His office was quaint. Small. There were odds and ends decorating shelves. A few organic plants here and there that looked well taken care of. It was such a rare sight to see. The war on Cybertron and rendered all organic life null. Unable to grow in such an hostile enviroment.

There were data pads from floor to roof on one wall. Suddenly you remember that the great Prime was just once a simple archivist in Iacon.

"There's no need to stand near the door, dear Y/n. I promise. You are not in any trouble here." Your helm snaps from the shelves of data pads and towards the Prime sitting at his desk. It was cluttered with data pads and reports. A few trinkets here and there. There was even a floating holo screen of what you assumed was him and a few other bots in one corner.

"I was told you needed me sir?" You strode to the center of the room. Just before the Primes desk. He smiled and shook his helm before rising from his seat.

"Please. There is no need for formalities here. I am just Optimus. " The Prime rounded the side of his desk before leaning against the side of it. Crossing his arms over his chassis.

You swallowed thickly. Finding yourself falling into a parade rest. "I was told you needed me, Optimus?" You repeated the question with his name instead. He gave a small laugh when he looked over at you.

"I meant it when I said there was no need for formalities Y/n. Please." Optimus pushed himself away from the desk as you made an attempt to stand comfortably. It was a little awkward.

Optimus stopped before you by less that a foot. You had to raise you helm to look him in the optics. You were not exactly a small mech but you reached just below the Primes chin.

"But yes. I did want you down here. I wanted to discuss something with you." His servo rose. The palm of his servo hovering just next to your helm before settling firmly on your shoulder. You couldn't help but look to that servo. Then to him as he began talking once again. "I have heard you've done good work here. And i'm proud of the fact that you are." The servo fell then digits hooked just below your chin.

Your spark began pounding in your chest. "I expect you have met my gifts well?" You optics widden and you pull away from those digits.

"That was you?" Your voice rose slightly at the end. At least that was a conformation. Whether or not it set you at ease was debatable to say the least.

"Of course. I'm sorry I couldn't deliver them in person though. I didn't need the others thinking I was playing favorites." His optics looked your faceplates over. His glossa darted out to wet his lips. "I find you to be the most brilliant mech I have had the honour to have in my troops yet. Y/n I have been hung over you since the moment I saw you." His servos cup either side of your helm. The size of them almost engulfing you.

"There is something addicting about you. I have yet to lay my servo on it. But. I wish to have you, if you will." His thumb brushed along your bottom lip. His optics following the movement of his thumb as he did this. "Of course we will have to keep this secret for a while. But I do not mind." His voice was low. Almost rattling in your chassis from how close he was now.

Chassis to chassis. Touching. So close. If the two of you were to slide the metal away. Surely your sparks would touch. The gesture here. Now. It was intimate.

Suffocating.

"Sir we can't. Its." Optimus's face darkened.

"Optimus. Please. Call me Optimus." His servos fell and once reached down to grab yours. He brought it up to his lips and layed a kiss on your scarred knuckles. His optics were on you the entire time. Blown wide with. Attraction? Lust? "And we can. The others will learn to deal with it."

Something pleasurable flooded your field when his wrapped over yours. Your processer fogged and you didn't know what to do. "Optimus I." You stopped when that pleasure flooded over you again. You legs shook and before you knew it you were moving. Your legs hit the desk and one moment you were standing. The next you were sitting. Optimus's servos wrapped around your thighs as he lifted yo up and onto it.

For a moment the fog lifted and you looked up to see a loopy grin on the Primes faceplates.

"Oh you look stunning just like that. I wonder if I could make you make that face again." He was between your legs. His servo traveled from your thigh and over your hip. It sprawled out over your stomach plating and up your chassis. His digits dipped in seems and pulled at wires that had a heat pooling below.

You whimper when his lips finally connecting with yours. Shivers running down your frame as he moves fervently. His servos cradle your helm as he does this. Drawing you in close. You servos find his wrists. You didn't know if you wanted to pull him away or hold him there so he would keep going.

He did leave you those gifts. It. It makes sense that he wouldn't do it in person. Right?

Right?

The two of you pull away with heated breaths. A string of fluid following your lips before breaking apart.

Your faceplates felt hot. Your vents where going rapidly. Trying to cool your heated frame.

Optimus lent in again and again. Laying kiss after kiss until he found your neck. Nibbling and sucking along the cabling there. You shiver and shook at the assault. Your frame reacting pleasantly to what he was doing.

"Such sweet sounds you are making. I wonder if you will sing the same while on my spike." His hips rolled as he said this. His servo landed on top of your interface array. "Please? My Y/n please?" Optimus spoke breathlessly. His helm pressed to yours. Your nose bumping against his as he moved to press another kiss to your lips. "For me? Please?"

And you did. Your array springing open and revealing your spike and valve to the room.

"The. The door. Is it locked?" You asked.

"Mmm? Yes." Optimus told you. His digits fluttering over your valve. A whimper left your lips as he teased you. Digits skimming over your valve. Your aching node to tease your weeping spike. "Look at you. Is all this for me?" He pressed a kiss to your chin.

"Yeah." You spoke. "Yeah. Just for you." A low moan left you when he sunk his digits within you. Digits curling as he pumped them in and out of you. He moved slowly. Gathering the fluid that left you and spreading his digits apart to slowly ease you into taking his spike.

He didn't want to hurt you after all. Not after waiting for so long. And not with you being so nice and willing.

You almost cried when those cleaver digits left you. Only for you to give a shudder when he put those same digits in his mouth. Glossa working around and between his digits tasting everything you had to offer.

"You taste sweeter than I thought you would be Y/n." He humed as his own interface array pulled away. He gave is own spike a few languid strokes before placing it between your shaking legs. "Relax. I will not hurt you." The tip of his spike pressed into you. "Relax my y/n." He guided himself within you. Moving slowly. He briefly pulled back at one point before sliding forward.

Optimus paused when he was fully seated within you. Giving his hips a few experimental rolls as he watched you come completely undone beneath him.

He was absolutely enthralled with the way you threw your helm back when he began to move. He happily complied with your pleas of more. Harder. Just like that.

You were being so good. So kind after all. How was he not to do what you asked when you were doing such a good job. He even told you as much.

"Look at you. Being such a good mech for me. You are taking me so well my y/n." His hips stuttered when he felt you squeeze around him from the praise. "You are taking my spike so good. You pretty valve feels so nice. So good. Gripping my spike so." He paused when he felt pleasure rack through him when you squeezed him once again.

Optimus was sure to note this in the back of his helm for future fragging sessions.

He could feel his overload coming and coming quickly. And if the way your were keening and moaning. Chanting his name so sweetly. Well, he knew yours was close as well.

Optimus rolled his field over yours and watched as you threw your helm back. Static spitting out of your vocalizer as you overloaded and over loaded hard. Your frame falling pliant under his servos.

Optimus found his soon after you. Pulling you close and leaning on your body.

He was sure to bring you into his habsuit. Cleaning your dirtied frame. Optimus took in the welled energon on your neck cabling. The slight paint transfer around your thighs from your coupling.

He'd be damned if he was letting you leave anytime soon.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

hi!! im kinda new here, so ive been stalking your works tryna get caught up with all the AUs concept you had and im not gonna lie its a lot and everytime i tryna read some of it i just dont know what was happening (the only one i get truly enjoy the experience and on board is dark au and it was really good btw!!), could you maybe break it down all of the AUs you got like giving a summary all thats stuff? and lastly do you have AUs that centered around yandere!logan with the reader? im genuinely sooo sorry if im asking too much or if my ask annoyed you!! you can ignore this if you want, im totally okay with it! thank youuu, love your work!!! 💓💓

Okay! Hello! I'm glad you enjoy the aus, and while I can't do all the aus in one sitting, I can do a few! Let's see what we can do:

🖤Dark AU: Reader, Kurt, Kitty, and Pietro end up dying, and end up in the future, where their friends and family have taken a turn for the worst, and won't let them go...

• 🌓Meet Me In The Woods🪶 AU: Creed Reader in the Dark AU, so it's, well, darker, in a way, and the teens either are with them, or Creed Reader is on their own, trying to avoid mutants, while discovering things have changed in quite a drastic way...

• 🦴Harpy Hare🍂 AU: Dark AU, but in a fantasy or mode fantasy setting

🐝Hivemind🧪 AUs: Where the characters fall under a hivemind or become a hivemind, and Reader is usually trying to escape it, or was part of it and now is free from it (can be mixed with a Drone AU)

🧪Drone AU: Where the characters fell to an experiment that made them obedient, and Reader escapes from it; after relaxing one of their own is missing, the rest gain back some of their freedom, and take over, and now are trying to fund Reader and bring them back, willing or not...

🌺Lotus Eater AU: Where the characters end up ina Lotus Eater place, and Reader resists it, but they're caught and forced to stay (one of my first aus)

🐉Wings of Fire AUs: Where the X-Men characters and Reader are dragons in a Wings of Fire-fied world, but it's only X-Men characters, not characters from Wings of Fire

Creed Reader AUs: Where Reader is the child of Sabretooth, and did not have a good life; they ran, were thought to have died, then a few years later end up back with the mutants, who are now platonic yandere for them...

These are a few of the aus! I hope this helps a little, and gives you a few aus to look up! Just look at the tags on my page, pick one, and scroll to the bottom, then read the first post to the last (I've had to do this several times to keep up with some aus) (you don't have to do this, though) (it's the magnifying glass icon on my page)

[autistic-fuckwad]

><> - SHINIGAMI EYES IS NO LONGER RELIABLE!

pinned post cause my old one is fucking depressing!!! be 18+ to follow please! i dont post porn but i do post suggestive stuff.

IF YOU HAVE MEN DNI ON YOUR PROFILE, FOLLOW YOUR OWN DNI! I'M A MAN AND PROUD OF IT: GET OVER IT!

hi im Anchor! im 19. im otherkin, autistic + adhd and a whole lot of other mental shit, physically disabled, and fall under the trans man and nonbinary umbrellas. im gay as hell ( i love men + nonbinary people!!! im both lol ) so youll see posts abt that. my gender is an enigma, but i am not a woman for sure! i only use he/they pronouns, but i heavily prefer he/him. i like to talk abt myself in the third person a lot bc autism. that's why i'm autistic-fuckwad!

i make art! the guy above is me but like. a bunny version. i also have tons of fandoms that i like but dont really talk abt! idk i dont really know what to put here if you wanna check me out from other places, here's my carrd!

Find me funny or cool and wanna support me? [Throne | Ko-fi]

Tags: #anchor rambles - my original post tag! i just be yapping all the time. #my asks - self explanatory! #hate mail - my tag for hate anons that i do answer. most of them are just funny or old things i felt needed addressed. #my art - i generally post my art on my art sideblog, but i will also crosspost it here! #chroxri/#chroxris - this is my original species! as of right now they arent finished and exist entirely in my head, so they arent for public use.

OC Tags: #oc: spraypaint | #oc: lucifer | #oc: megaladon | #oc: mau #oc: akeno

Mine sideblogs: @commander-frostfang - Guild Wars 2 sideblog. Named after my first character, but holds both Zohar Frostfang and Hyacinth of Malvale as my commaders. I post my gw2 art there, if i make any, and reblog posts abt gw2. I currently have played through the entire story on Zohar.

@5h4rku8us4rt - Art blog! kinda disorganized, not tagged well, will fix up in the future. still badass as hell tho. i post my art here so you can follow this to see when i post art specifically cause i reblog so much on my main blog. 5H4RKU8US is generally my username on other sites, i just tagged art to the end in the same style. it's pronounced sharkubus. @5h4rkd0llz - doll blog. heavy wip, ive been depressed. i collect rainbow high and calico critters, i also sew doll clothes. might do customs, might not. idk.

@5h4rku8us - Had to claim my main username somehow! im honestly using this to store my sona's art and post abt vtubing stuff. once i start making videos, i plan on uploading links to them here! honestly, kind of dead rn. it will happen in the future tho!

@sharksimsss - sims 4 cc blog. i hardly use this one so its just for myself and my bff to grab cc from lol @chroxri-corner - my own original species and world building blog! currently dead but not abandoned. im just depressed

I block heavily and I'm not interested in arguing about my core belief systems. i dont hold opinions on most things so dont come into my inbox just to ask abt if i support giggleshitfart68 or not for being twinklekin. i support intersex people and believe in breaking the sex and gender binary. do as ye will as long as ye bring no harm upon others.

RADFEMS, TERFS, GENDER ESSENTIALISTS AND INTERSEXISTS FUCK OFF!

sometimes i misunderstand things! always willing to talk it out if the other party is receptive and civil.

[sammygender]

hi.. erm im back (anon from the last 2 asks) (im too scared to un-anon sorry) i want to ask (another) genuine question abt wincest because ur the nicest person ive ever met who's willing to talk abt it from both sides.

i guess i just don't get why people ship wincest? background: im aromantic and have a hard time understanding certain shippy stuff, but i do notice alot of arophobic statements in regards to the evidence given as to why people ship. ex: a lot of "brothers don't look at each other like that." type things. (which i know is not wincest exclusive and is often used by destiel shippers too)

also i notice alot of people being quite amatonormative (definition: the assumption that all human beings pursue love or romance.) so it's hard to even take wincest shippers seriously when all their evidence tends to be perpetuating arophobic sentiments and stuff.

we can all agree that their relationship is seriously unhealthy. but i just have a hard time with it being even borderline incestuous. i also really like the idea of relationship anarchy (definition: relationships within this structure are fluid, and therefore have no solid differentiation between sexual, romantic, or platonic relationships.) so to me it's like. well it's platonic because they say it is? only the people within a relationship can determine what that relationship is and they have?

anyways i know im throwing a lot of words and definitions at you. you're just extremely helpful to talk to and i like what you have to say, so id be extremely interested in your opinions about this.

hi anon!!! im so sorry i literally yapped like crazy in response to this. had no idea i was capable of this much thought on this topic. everything is under the read more

TLDR for the TLDR: for me the 'borderline incestuous' nature of their relationship isnt actually the way they act with each other cause i do think boundaries of romantic/platonic r weird and fake (tho by normal 'societal standards' sam and dean r strange). its more the framing of it by the narrative and genre conventions of spn as a horror. i think. <3

everything im abt to say has been written on at length by much smarter people than me - if ur interested i probably have reblogged other peoples posts on similar topics and tagged them somewhere under #poison in the water and maybe #she walked in on us. i am SO sorry for the mountain of yap you have unleashed.

before i rly start, re: talking abt the concept of wincest from different angles/sides - its honestly so totally beyond me why people dont actually DISCUSS this stuff more. ofc wincest shippers are sometimes obnoxious when they go ‘NORMAL BROTHERS DON’T ACT LIKE THIS!!!’ over anything (like i personally don’t like the whole ‘sam and dean are OBVIOUSLY in love because they bring each other back from the dead!!’ thing. like why is that romantic. i’d try my hardest to bring my siblings back from the dead too.) but like u said pretty much all shippers do that. i think people are (UNDERSTANDABLY) squicked out by the idea of incest, even fictional, and have an immediate kneejerk reaction when people ‘corrupt’ their favorite characters by talking abt it in relation to them. and i completely understand just not wanting to engage with readings you find uncomfortable or odd!! TV can just be escapism there’s nothing wrong with that!! but i tend to find immediate negative reactions against anything that even ACKNOWLEDGES the incestuous subtext in spn uncharitable and annoying. for one, incest is a real thing that happens and its not shipping goggles or creep behavior to look at fiction through the lens of it, just as its not whatsoever unreasonable to look at, for example, the azazel demon blood storyline as a CSA allegory (again of course all this is real heavy and just one interpretation and absolutely no hate for fans who like… just don’t want to think like this <3). for two, i do think there is an undercurrent of it written into supernatural with intentionality to further the themes of familial horror.

so to kind of…. explain i guess… why i say i can see canonical backing for sam and dean’s relationship as incestuous or incestuous-adjacent (lol), i have to go back to the general incest subtext in supernatural as a whole, from a completely academic-interest and not at all shippy way. like i said ofc SPN is primarily a show about FAMILY HORROR - ‘family is hell’, to quote eric kripke in the pilot commentary. or at least this is how i view it; a lot of destiel fans, for example, tend to see it more as…. idk really, i don’t claim to have much contact with them, but certainly not usually a horror. an action-adventure. a western. a story about a Tragic American Hero (sorry im being tongue in cheek and bitchy). i think viewing the show with a sam-focused lens tends to make you view it as horror for… a lot of reasons which i won’t get into here. but i PERSONALLY - getting off track here, sorry - view it as horror. that’s what he originally intended, and it’s what supernatural is most successful at doing. and incest in horror, especially gothic horror, especially gothic horror about the family and the home, is well-trodden territory (where’s my essay from last term about incest in wuthering heights where i somehow ended up, while researching, on an essay about wincest itself). - and supernatural is full of allusions to it. azazel’s silhouette in the pilot as intentionally strikingly similar to john’s, when he first feeds sam demon blood (framed as a CSA allegory, whether intentional or not). then azazel actually possessing john later. mary making the deal that dooms her family for years after via kissing her father on the mouth. hunting portrayed as something abnormal, irregular, taboo in direct opposition to a ‘normal family’ (tho abuse also comes from the nuclear family etc etc). then you can look at sam and dean specifically….

from the pilot, you have the woman in white telling sam, who has just left to go on a roadtrip with his brother, that he’s about to be unfaithful to jess; even if this could technically be said to be about the fact she then attempts to assault him (tho that doesn’t really fit with woman in white lore?? she goes after people who have already cheated…), it’s still portraying jess and dean as innately in opposition, just as jess has to die in order for sam to join dean. all the loaded lines about ‘the way they were raised’ - dean telling sam he can’t escape it. supernatural is clear: the rot is IN the family.

OF COURSE all of this can equally just be about familial abuse!! and IS about familial abuse!! but the way the story unfolds DOES position sam and dean in…. shall we say Roles. sam is the feminised ‘bitch’ to dean’s ‘jerk’; they’re mistaken for a couple in 1x08, in 1x18, in 2x16, in s8; they’re compared to bonnie and clyde, to mallory and mickey, serial killer lover duos. crowley tells dean, ‘you’re lying to sam like he’s your wife’. dean says, at a later opportunity, ‘what about sam? does he want a divorce?’. an ANGEL tells their HALF BROTHER that sam and dean are ‘psychotically, irrationally, EROTICALLY codependent’. dean himself is unable to name what’s between them, explicitly saying ‘love, family, whatever it is’ (which is just SUCH an odd line. Like it’s love and family between you two Dean is it not??? Why are you acting like neither of those words describe it???). then there’s the way jensen and jared act it, their physicality, eg. sam looking genuinely like he’s about to pull dean in for a kiss during playthings 2x16… i also find the whole ‘brothers don’t look at each other like that!!’ annoying, but tbh, they do give each other wild looks sometimes. the end of wendigo sticks out to me whenever i watch it as a genuine ‘why is jared/sam looking at jensen/dean like that… what possessed him…’.

wait another addition - when i first wrote this i also totally forgot about 4x14 sex and violence, which iirc has dean’s siren, originally described only in terms of sex/romance, literally telling him ‘i should be your little brother’. of course the concept of a siren that isn’t really about sex or even romance is really interesting and one valid reading - and also lends itself to a reading of dean as aro which i rly like. but i don’t think that reading is any more or less valid than the more obvious one. (irrelevant side bar but there’s a 2003 sociology book about sibling incest that i read for an essay on wuthering heights called ‘Siblings: Sex and Violence and that makes me go ??? every time i think about the episode. Literally what. That has to be a coincidence. But??)

i think in regards to why people ‘ship’ wincest, a lot of it is of course just that they just kind of See It, for whatever reason. whether it’s the thematic (which i talked on at length already sorry <3) or just the way they look at each other or just because jared and jensen are hot or just because they think it’s really interesting to explore an added dimension to sam and dean’s already messed up relationship. same with destiel, same with sastiel, same with whatever, like u said. shipping culture in general IS hugely amatonormative - people love to declare wide statements about what people who are In Love do and don’t do, which are always silly and shallow. partly why i don’t really consider myself as someone who ships things in general.

i also totally agree w u that only people within a relationship can determine what that relationship is. im not aro but i also really like the concept of relationship anarchy. however, when i see the incestuous subtext between sam and dean, it’s more in a media studies way than in a way of analysing their actual Relationship (though to be fair i’m not a wincest shipper); eg. asking the question why is their relationship portrayed ‘like that’, and what does that say about the themes of spn itself. also it is just an interesting concept to a lot of people.

TLDR the reason i can view sam and dean’s relationship as borderline incestuous isn’t due to their codependency, or dean’s intense possessiveness, or how close they are, or because they spend all of their time together, or because they’ve brought each other back from the dead multiple times and get suicidal without each other. this is even though in our society all that together IS often coded as romantic/sexual and is definitely acknowledged in that lens by the writers (hence constant comparison of them to married couples) - because it could also just as equally be completely platonic and completely insane and the result of the world’s worst trauma bond (the latter which it CERTAINLY is <3). when i talk abt canonical backing for their relationship as borderline incestuous, it’s more about the narrative framing and context surrounding it. at the very least, their relationship is ‘abnormal’, deviant (meant in the most literal meaning as an digression from social norms); different from accepted ‘sibling relationships’, pointed out by the characters around them. <- none of this makes any sense but its 3am and im on tumblr so its ok.

feel free to dm also if u want to or just send an ask back!! and also ofc feel free to argue with/disagree with me in any way u like. or ask wtf i mean by anything cause i talk too much. tbh from what u say it sounds like u just don’t really vibe with shipping culture in general (might be an assumption sorry if so) which i totally understand/agree w. but i hope i answered ur question in some way somehow

[cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut]

Thanks to @carlos-in-glasses @jesuisici33 @birdclowns @heartstringsduet @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @bonheur-cafe @paperstorm @ambiguouspenny @louis-ii-reyes-strand for the tags! It’s nice to get stuck into something new. The main warnings here are grief, loss of a parent, description of injury and death. Just another Wednesday over here 🫣

In some ways, losing his mother is like falling through the ice all over again. In the distant back of his mind, part of him had known it might happen, that untimely, terrible things are possible. He knew it like he knows the taste of sharp air when a scene takes a turn for the worse, the breathless, cutting moment when a patient slips too far out of his reach. He knew it like the feeling of ribs cracking under his hands – strong arms aching, pale fingers interlocked – as he commands life back into a stranger’s long motionless body. These things happen, yet they feel abstract all the same. He knew the ground could have given way beneath him as he crawled on his belly over the ice, adrenaline shielding him from the cold at first. He knew it could have all gone wrong.

But he reaches every call feeling certain that they’ll save someone, and although he’d understood the nature of winter and the cruelties of ice water, he’d reached for that boy with a naive surety that he was safe from the clutches of the thing that was killing him. Patients die, ice cracks and splinters and plunges grown bodies under. These things happen, but they’d never happened to him. The knowledge of every maybe was nothing more than fleeting shadows in his mind – ghosts, long before his mother was one.

But the ice gave way.

His mother hit her head on the sidewalk.

TK almost drowned, almost died, and his mother bled out over concrete no one had paid much thought to until that moment. Someone had to hook TK’s body up to the ventilator once he’d been dragged out of the water, connect him to all those wires and machines just to keep his lungs working. And someone had to wash his mother’s blood from the concrete, call Enzo away from work.

All these things that were always possibilities, but from which TK had naively felt protected, immune. A lot of paramedics get badly hurt in the field. A lot of people lose their mother before they’re twenty-nine.

He guesses he’d just never realised that these things happen ever actually meant they could happen to him, that when his father reminded him there’s no guarantees in this life, for anybody, not only did that apply to TK, but his mother – who was beautiful; kind; strong willed; enthusiastic about Chinese food and cute home decor and the very best fruit teas – was included too.

And now TK’s immune system is shot to shit, and his mother has been gone for three days

Apologies if you’ve done this already as it’s late in the day, but some no pressure tags are below! Plus an Open Tag for anyone who wants to join in!

@welcometololaland @redshirt2 @tailoredshirt @taralaurel @sugdenlovesdingle @goodways @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @lightningboltreader @ladytessa74 @lemonlyman-dotcom @basilsunrise @rosedavid @reasonandfaithinharmony @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @three-drink-amy @thisbuildinghasfeelings @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @inkweedandlizards @detective-giggles @rosedavid @wandering-night19 @wtfuckevenknows @orchidscript @sznofthesticks