#the logic here never makes sense so I think y'all need to come up with better material or shut the fuck up lmao

[redysetdare]

"Aro and Ace people aren't LGBTQ+ because they're cishet!" "the A in LGBTQIA stands for ALLY!!!!"

Ally.... as in the cishet people who support the community.... the cishet people are LGBTQIA.... but Aros and aces can't be because they are....cishet....

[zhongliologist]

Research Hazards | 30 Nights Series

Pairing: Alhaitham x afab!reader x Kaveh

Genre: SMUT

Content Warning: threesome, double penetration, blowjob, cunnilingus, anal, creampie, trapped

Words: 5.7k

A/N: Happy Holidays! This is my present to y'all who're still here lmao Anyways, this is part of a series that I barely started, so I won't promise I'll post regularly. Consider this an advance ksksksks Also please ignore genshin lore stuff in this fic, i took all the liberties i had so it's not accurate lmaooo

Tagging: @yostresswritinggirl i know you've been waiting for this lmaooo

Warning: THIS IS AN 18+ FIC, SO MINORS OUT THERE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

There are three types of people in the world when faced with a life or death situation.

The first one tends to be a little too overdramatic.

“This can’t be the end! I have so many projects to do, so many masterpieces to make! Al-haitham, you take responsibility for this! If you didn’t insist that we take this route, we could have been out by now!”

The second prefers to be more logical; the problem solver.

“Don’t be so pathetic, Kaveh. How about you use that brain of yours to find a way out instead? Out of us three here, you’re the most knowledgeable with machinery. You should know at least one loophole.”

And the last one is what people would call an “opportunist”.

“Take your flirting somewhere else, you two. I’m in the cusp of an academic breakthrough. This room is like no other! Completely unique from all the ruins attributed to the god of time! So exciting!”

“We are not flirting!” “Your imagination knows no boundaries, YN.”

You shrugged, crouching near an impression on the wall. “Hm. Whatever you say.”

This unique arrangement, or whatever it was, simply formed out of necessity.

As students of the Akademiya, it was required to submit a final research paper before graduating—a cumulative opus of all the learnings and skills one has acquired through their time as a student. You never had any trouble in writing your own paper, but the subject you chose was a behemoth, a wide gap in the tree of knowledge that has yet to be studied thoroughly. Despite your brilliance however, you only had one brain and that was hardly enough to tackle the mystery of the god of time. Besides, you needed the expertise from the other Darshans to make full sense of any discovery, and they probably need your expertise as well—a win-win situation, in your honest opinion.

And that was how you ended up with Al-haitham and Kaveh—geniuses, yes, but probably the most insufferable pair in the entire Akademiya.

“Al-haitham, Kaveh,” you called out as you stood up from your position and walked towards the two with notebook in hand. Al-haitham was standing front of a wall, trying to decipher what was written, while Kaveh was busy studying the walls of the room.

“Have you figured it out?” Al-haitham asked, looking up. He was always the sensible one between the two, but only when it comes to intellectual pursuits.

“No, not yet, but I do need a sounding board,” you replied, standing beside him. “An alternative assessment, if you will.”

“Fine by me. We’ll listen to your ideas first before we share our own thoughts,” Kaveh said as he stood before the both of you.

“So our current predicament is that we’re trapped in this room, which was triggered when we stepped on that platform, causing the walls to cave in on us. If we want to get out, we have to at least understand what had trapped us and why.”

Both men nodded at you. Al-haitham glanced at you, his stare a little too long than normal.

“Makes sense. Go on.”

You cleared your throat to divert your attention to the subject at hand. “Well, here’s the thing. Previous research claim that these ruins are dedicated to the god of time, yet now that I’m here seeing it with my own two eyes, touching it with my two hands, I have to disagree. And I believe the both of you think the same way.”

Kaveh and Al-haitham exchanged glances, yet it was Kaveh who first spoke. “While it is important not to jump into conclusions right away, I do agree with YN. The architectural style, the motifs…they do look similar to Istaroth-attributed ruins yet not quite. The flower motifs on the wall could easily be mistaken as triquetras. If we reexamine previous papers and note our recent findings, a trove of new discoveries is possible.”

Nodding in agreement, you listened to what Kaveh had to say, until you were distracted by how his lips moved. Soft, pink and plump…would it feel as delectable as it appeared to be, you wondered. Wait. This is not what you should be thinking in this situation YN!

“We should be careful here,” Al-haitham interrupted your thoughts. “Refuting previously recognized research is already an endeavor in and of itself. While it is disappointing that these ruins are not related to the ruins of Dahri, we can get enough data here to write an additional paper, alongside our main research subject. With that said, figuring out who this place is for should be the first and foremost priority, for the paper and for our safety as well.”

“I’ve seen you look through the writings on the wall earlier. Did it leave any clues?” you asked, gazing up at him. For some reason you felt hot and uncomfortable all of the sudden. Perhaps it was just the jungle humidity finally getting to you.

“Ah yes. It was also the reason why I had to agree with your assessment. The writings sing of praises for the goddess of flowers, as well as of hopes and wishes for ‘new seed’ to sprout and ‘new buds’ to bloom. It was also in a language which emerged at the same time as scripts from King Deshret’s empire and from ancient Sumeru. If these were ruins attributed to the god of time, Khaenri'ahn script should have been used and there should be no mention of the goddess of flowers.”

“How interesting,” you exclaimed, trying to rid of unnecessary thoughts forming in your head. “What you both have noted all points to the goddess of flowers. I assumed the same case as well. Yet there are no records of buildings dedicated to the goddess, so what makes this one different? What does the writings on the wall allude to? What is this place for? Why are we trapped here?”

“Alright!” Kaveh exclaimed, making you yelp when he suddenly placed his hands on your shoulders. They were heavy and big. “Let’s take a break for a while. I, for one, would like to rest on a comfortable place.”

The ‘comfortable place’ Kaveh was referring to was of course, another invention of his. Both you and Al-haitham watched the blond unfurl his portable chaise lounge with jaded eyes, all too familiar with Kaveh’s tactic of showing off. If he wasn’t a master craftsman and architect, you would’ve deemed him a simple man.

“Of course, the both of you are free to take a seat. Don’t be shy now,” he smirked, and at that point you understood why Al-haitham was ceaselessly cruel to him.

“Al-haitham if you’re not going to punch him sooner or later, I will do it.”

The Haravatat scholar simply shrugged at you; indicating that you should get used to it. “If I were you, just humor him to keep the peace and quiet. The archons know we need some silence to think in this situation.”

“Fine,” you retorted back and marched towards Kaveh. In a huff, you ungracefully plopped yourself on the chaise, surprising even Kaveh himself.

“You’re…” sitting so close to me, was what he wanted to say yet it was suddenly so difficult to get the words out of his throat.

“What is it?” you asked, wondering why Kaveh covered half of his face with his hand all of a sudden.  

“No, I just…” he couldn’t say it. There was no way he could tell you that you smelled so sweet and delectable, enough to remind him of baklavas drizzled with honey. Drizzled with honey…he could lick it off of you—

“What’s gotten into you, Kaveh? You wouldn’t be thinking of anything inappropriate, would you?” you asked in the midst of a laughing fit. You just couldn’t help but giggle at the way his face morphed into an expression of horror.

“O-of course not! I…” he stammered but eventually composed himself. “Don’t you think it’s a bit warm in this room?”

“Well, there are no windows. It could also be the combined body heat of us three,” you shrugged. “I’m more concerned if we’re gonna run out of air before we can get out of here.”

“Oh, about that. There is a draft coming from the gaps on the walls, so there’s no chance of suffocation.”

“Well, at least we have that. But I do agree, it’s been warm for a while now, it’s making my skin stick to my clothes. I should at least remove one layer.”

“What…?”

Kaveh stared at you in panic, wide-eyed and flushed. He was already having inappropriate thoughts of you; your bare skin would do massive damage to his self-control.

“Wait…!” he reached out to you, hand on your arm. You gazed at him curiously, mulling over at the weird mood the both of you were in. If you were a little more honest, you could feel a haze creeping around you and Kaveh. You were just too scared to acknowledge it.

“Oh, come on! I’m just removing a jacket, no big deal!” You shrugged him off, finally getting rid of the stuffy outerwear required of students while on field, and went back to your place beside the blond man.

Kaveh had to train his eyes somewhere else to avoid looking at your shoulders and neck. Yet even if his eyes found purchase on a nearby rock, his imagination was betraying him with images of you flushed and ready underneath him, calling out his name in sweet and illicit whispers. There is no way he wouldn’t get hard right now. Get a hold of yourself, Kaveh!

Unbeknownst to the blond beside you, you weren’t in the best of shape either. It took all your mental prowess not to get overwhelmed by lewd thoughts—thoughts which involved the blond and the ash-haired scholar. All the intellectual talk from earlier had you weak and bothered, weirdly turned on from how Al-haitham discussed his thoughts while Kaveh shared his. For some reason, the desire to be pressed between both men was clawing at you. You wanted to feel their bodies against yours, touching and caressing all your sensitive spots until the three of you were one incoherent mess.

“What are you two even doing?”

The sound of Al-haitham’s stern voice brought you back down to Teyvat. You were thankful he was still sane, otherwise you might’ve not been able to come back. Kaveh, on the other hand, was still stubbornly looking at the distant wall.

“YN, scoot over,” Al-haitham ordered. He didn’t wait for you to move however, instead, you were forced to make room for him on the now crowded chaise, making you bump against Kaveh, who was definitely not pleased.

“You could at least wait, you know?” you remarked irately. “It’s already so hot and humid as it is…”

Removing his beret, Al-haitham kept his gaze on the wall in front of him much like Kaveh. “It’s not my fault this chaise lounge could barely fit three people.”

“Do you have a problem with it Al-haitham?” Kaveh interrupted, a lilt of frustration present in his voice which wasn’t there before. “You should be thankful you’re not sitting on the stone floor.”

In your position, the two of them looked rather silly bickering at the walls they were facing, as they avoided getting a glimpse of you and of each other. It wasn’t hard to guess that Al-haitham was feeling the same way both you and Kaveh did, and he was trying his best not to succumb to it.

“Did this room smelled particularly sweet when we went in?” you asked, interrupting the both of them.

“Hm? Oh no, I don’t think so. It was just like any other ruins we previously visited,” Kaveh replied, instinctively looking at you. That proved to be quite a mistake however, as his eyes began to ogle at your bare shoulders, neck and arms. The temptation to touch you was all too real and difficult to resist. Any time now, the tightly-wound thread holding his self-control would eventually snap.

“I’ve noticed it as well…the room does smell faintly of sweet flowers and padisarahs.” Al-haitham added as he glanced down at you, imagining all the things your mouth can do for him. Like slow-moving poison, illicit thoughts were invading his mind, pillaging all that is logical and reasonable until all he could think about is you. You being violated by him and Kaveh; you crying out their names as they fill both your holes; you laying on the chaise stuffed to the brim with their seed.

You watched Al-haitham as his mind wandered. You could tell he was losing his own battles, overcome by intrusive thoughts. If Al-haitham himself had succumbed to these thoughts, then forget about finding a way out. Your minds were too preoccupied to do any analysis at that point. The question now became clear to you—for how long are you three able to maintain self-control? If that wasn’t possible, what will happen to the three of you?

“A conclusion seemed to have crossed your mind, YN.”

It was Al-haitham, who had met your eyes directly. Peridot orbs on yours, you noticed the ferocity of his gaze, as if a fire was smoldering deep within him which he could barely contain. He was at his limit, and you were nearing yours too. You could only withstand so much mental battles, especially not against old leyline energy.

“This was a miscalculation in our part. Who would have thought we’d encounter something like this deep in the forest?” you replied, voice becoming low, body becoming pliant. “The flower motifs, the inscription on the wall, all the scattered decorations. It makes sense for this place to have that kind of purpose.”

“So what now?” Kaveh asked, leaning against the back rest of the chaise. “I don’t think I have the energy to resist whatever is happening.”

“Let’s just see where it goes,” you shrugged, allowing Al-haitham’s hands to cup your cheeks and Kaveh’s arms to wrap around your waist. “We are already too far gone.”

The next few moments were difficult for you to follow. After allowing your carnal urges to took hold of your actions, all you could remember was how everything felt so good.

The two men slowly ravished your body. You remember Al-haitham pressing his lips against yours, nibbling your lower lip until you allowed him to explore your mouth and play with your tongue. Kaveh, on the other hand, had monopoly over your body, lazily embracing your waist with one arm as he fondled your chest with his hand. He liked to bury his nose on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving his marks all over your skin. Suffice to say, their ministrations left you bare and naked.

There were no words exchanged at that moment, just pure and unbridled lust.

You delighted at the sensation of having both men caressing you, making you feel good. In the haste of it all, the blond had you sitting on his lap, his hands cupping your breasts and rubbing your nipples, while Al-haitham’s lips travelled down from collarbones to your stomach; leaving nips and splotches of color in his wake. Your hands could only do so much; wrapped around Al-haitham’s shoulders as you accepted it all.

Kaveh couldn’t believe he finally had a taste of you—his deepest desires finally coming into fruition after years of longing. Although he had to share with Al-haitham, there was no other opportunity like this. He could finally touch you, caress you, tease you as he pleased. There were no eyes to stop him, no boorish ego to tell him he was being unprofessional for liking you as your senior. Maybe this was what he needed after all.

“…Kaveh…” you moaned, looking up to him for a kiss which he easily obliged. He went immediately for a French kiss, sliding his tongue against yours in a soft and needy kiss. Kaveh groaned into your lips as you pressed your butt against the tent in his pants, reminding him to remove his clothes as soon as possible.

Al-haitham watched the exchange with half-lidded eyes and lips ajar. It was turning him on in all the right ways. As a man of rationality, he had never thought he’d enjoy a voyeuristic view of you making out with another man, much less Kaveh. But the sight only made his dick harder, prompting him to bite hard on your inner thigh.

 “—!!”

“Come on now, YN. Don’t tell me you forgot about me,” he growled as he lapped on the bite mark he had just left on your skin. “Let’s hear you moan.”

With those words, the man completely ravished your thighs—leaving nips and bites but altogether avoiding the place where you needed him the most. You were trembling, keening in pleasure, mind numbed by the sensations both men had put you through. With hands tightly digging into Al-haitham’s hair, you collapsed against Kaveh’s chest as you begged the other for more.

Annoyed at the attention you gave to Al-haitham, Kaveh had his hand under your chin and turned your head to face him. Meeting his scarlet eyes, you melted under his gaze—once again joining lips in one sloppy kiss. He easily drowned out your moans with his tongue, delving deeper into your mouth until all you could feel were his soft plump lips.

Aware of how quiet you had been, Al-haitham pushed your legs up and dove right at your center; sucking your sensitive nub without any warning. Your body shook immediately, pulling away from Kaveh’s lips as you reveled at the way Al-haitham was lapping your juices which had been spilling out since earlier.

“…Al-haitham…! Wait—!”

All your pleading went to deaf ears as he continued eating you out, even to the point of inserting his tongue into your hole. It didn’t help when Kaveh suddenly pinched your nipples, flicking them until they were raw and sensitive. He was back on marking your shoulders and neck; his bites now more intense and feral. You could only grasp on thin air as both men drove you to your climax. Tears welled up on the sides of your eyes as the pleasure became so unbearable, with no choice but to take it all in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….! I’m…!”

As Al-haitham sucked hard on your clit; as Kaveh bit hard on your shoulder, you instantly fell to your climax—body shaking and trembling as the pain and pleasure mixed into something indescribably intense and rendering your mind completely blank. You screamed at the overwhelming stimulation, squirting juices into Al-haitham’s mouth which he gladly licked.

The two men gently laid you down on the chaise as they stood in front of you, breathless and horny with cocks painfully hard. Silently, they undressed as you watched—your eyes tracing the contours of their muscles and biceps, their beautiful skin riddled with beads of sweat and bodily fluids. Desire bubbles up from the pits of your stomach once again.

Finally, you saw a glimpse of their erect members, both glistening with pre-cum. Head overridden with lust, you almost salivate at the sight—Kaveh’s was pretty, pink and rather long and slightly girthy, while Al-haitham was thick and veiny; almost as muscular as his toned body. Both men smirked at how you were ogling at them.

“Seems like you want more, YN,” Kaveh remarked as he sat at the end of the chaise, spreading your legs apart. “Surely, we can give you more. Isn’t that right, Al-haitham?”

Normally, this would prompt more bickering from the two, yet they have different priorities right now, and they can set aside their differences for later.

Al-haitham scoffed, hands giving his cock a few pumps before placing it near your lips.

“How about we start with a blowjob? I’m sure you know how to do it, don’t you YN?” There was a mocking lilt to his tone that normally irritated you, yet at that situation, it turned you on for some fucking reason.

At first, you gave the head tentative licks, lapping at the beads of pre-cum spilling from the tip. You then began swirling your tongue around the head and sucking it. Eventually, you licked the underside of his cock, thoroughly covering his member with saliva and pre-cum which earned a deep growl from the man. Locking gazes with Al-haitham, you finally took him in, mouth stretching at his girth. If you weren’t drowning in lust, you would’ve complained at the pain, but at that point, all you could think about was how you were sucking his large cock while Kaveh was rubbing his on your drenched slit.

And speaking of Kaveh, he was busy pleasuring himself—pressing your thighs together around his dick which was brushing against your sensitive clit. If you hadn’t had Al-haitham’s cock in your mouth, you would’ve moaned every time Kaveh would rub on your sensitive bud; yet you could only roll your eyes to the back of your head; seeing stars on the process. It was a delightful distraction, and both men seemed to have made it somewhat of a contest of who could maintain your attention.

All of the sudden, Al-haitham shoved his dick into your throat, making you gag. Holding your head, he was effectively fucking your mouth, as you took it all in. It was painful, but fortunately Kaveh was there to distract you, pressing his thumb on your clit as he continued sliding his cock on your wet cunt. You could no longer tell which was which, allowing your body to feel everything.

“Fuck, YN….I’m going to come in your mouth…” Al-haitham muttered through gritted teeth.

“Wouldn’t you like that, YN?” Kaveh cooed, face flushed as he continued to fuck your thighs. “We’re gonna cover you with our cum…”

With a few strokes, Al-haitham stilled in your mouth and pumped his cum into your throat, while Kaveh spilled his seed on your stomach, almost reaching your breasts. Not able to swallow of Al-haitham’s essence, you allowed the mess to drip from your lips and down to your body. The image of you covered with their seed was enough to keep both men hard even outside the influence of the room. Even after coming once, it wasn’t enough. They had to have you.

Lifting your chin up, Kaveh captured your lips for the nth time, tasting Al-haitham on your tongue. The thought seemed to drive him crazy, as he probed deeper into your mouth, groaning, sucking your tongue and biting your lips. Lifting you up, Kaveh met eye to eye with Al-haitham, both seemingly agreeing on something.

Smirking as he devoured your lips, Kaveh had you on his lap again, his cock now lined up on your cunt. Without saying anything, the blond lowered you to his dick, grunting at the novel sensation of your walls wrapped around him. His lips kept any of your moans from escaping, as he allowed you to feel the shape of his cock in your pussy.

All you could think of at that moment was how good Kaveh filled you up. He was prodding you at the right places, his size making you stop to adjust to him before he can plow into your cunt. The way he was kissing you didn’t help either. The constant stimulation had made your body so sensitive that even a brush of Al-haitham’s hand on your neck or Kaveh’s low growls was enough to make your body spasm.

“…Kaveh…more…”

You begged for him to move, but the blond could only smirk at you as he laid the both of you flat on the chaise with you above him.

“Oh no, we’re not done here, YN. Al-haitham has to prepare you.”

With those words, you suddenly felt cold wet fingers prodding your other hole, prompting you to turn around. You were greeted by a grinning Al-haitham who pressed a few kisses on your back.

“We don’t have any lube right now, but I’ll make sure you’re ready for the both of us.”

As Al-haitham kneeled down, you could feel his tongue rimming your hole, licking and prodding until you were crying out at the strange sensations.

“Wait…no…! That’s…!”

“Relax, YN,” Kaveh assured you as he nipped on your ear. “It’ll feel good later on. Just let Al-haitham pleasure you.”

You could no longer tell how long Al-haitham took to make you feel good, but you could tell that your rigid body was gradually becoming pliant to his touch. Perhaps you already came several times, you weren’t sure as the pleasure seemed to have overlapped each other with no end in sight. By the time you noticed, he already had four digits pumping in and out of you as he lapped on your juices, while you moaned against Kaveh’s shoulders.

“Look how well you can take my fingers, YN,” Al-haitham whispered to your ear as he continued to pound his fingers into your ass. “You think you can take my cock now?”

“A-Al-haitham…please…I—!”

As the ash-haired man flicked a particular spot inside, you could only cling to Kaveh for support, yet the blond himself was also struggling, trying his best not to come even after your walls keep tightening around him.

“Al-haitham…” Kaveh grunted, beads of sweat falling from his temples. “Hurry up…I don’t think I can last much longer…”

Al-haitham clicked his tongue as he shoved his fingers deep into you, making both you and Kaveh groan. “So impatient…perhaps you both need a lesson or two.”

“Well, how about we switch places instead?” the older man asked, his irritation evident.

Yet the other man only smirked, “Maybe later then.”

Finally pulling out his fingers, Al-haitham coated his member with your essence, rubbing it against your hole until he lined it up. Noticing what he was about to do, Kaveh pulled your now swollen lips once more for a kiss, effectively distracting you.

Gradually, Al-haitham pushed his fat cock into your ass, stretching you out in proportions you had never considered before. Having both Al-haitham and Kaveh inside of you had your eyes rolling to the bank of your head, the intensity enough to make you faint. But you were intoxicated with whatever energy was in the room, so instead of actually fainting, you were flooded with pain that was so good that it had your body shaking uncontrollably.

“Breathe slowly, love. Take it easy,” Kaveh whispered sweetly to you, noticing your heavy breaths. He made carefully placed kisses on your jaw and down to the crook of your neck to soothe you. He knew Al-haitham would definitely abuse your hole, and he had to at least make sure that you’d come out sane after this. His ministrations seemed to have worked though, as you collapsed into his embrace, whimpering while taking in both cocks in you.

It didn’t take a while for both men to begin moving. The contrast of Al-haitham’s sharp and harsh thrusts to Kaveh’s slow but long-drawn pace left you an incoherent mess, no longer able to perceive everything that was happening to you. You felt as if you were one big bundle of nerves, drooling and screaming every time their cocks pushed against a particularly sweet spot in you.

Yet you were not the only one on the brink of losing their sanity. Both Al-haitham and Kaveh were acting on complete impulse and desire—with their hands on your waist, plunging into you as deep as they could, relentlessly chasing after their high. They wanted to fuck you over and over again and spill into you, marking you as theirs inside and out. Then rinse and repeat.

“Hey, can you feel it?” Al-haitham asked Kaveh in a breathy voice, grinning as he continued to pound into you.

“Feel what?”

“My dick—“

In one huff, Al-haitham shoved deep and hard into you, which made your walls contract around Kaveh’s.

“Oh fuck…!” The other groaned out, gripping your waist tight as he threw his head up. That was incredible, if he was being honest.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” the younger man smirked as he bent over your back and took a handful of your hair. “YN seemed to have liked it as well.”

“Shut up,” the other simply glared even though his face was completely flushed.

“You should learn from YN, Kaveh. At least, they’re being honest.”

Al-haitham only chuckled as he continued to drive into you, completely mesmerized at how you were clamping around him, how your hips would bounce every time he would thrust sharply, how you were moaning his name on Kaveh’s lips. In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have imagined himself desiring you so intensely like this. Unlike Kaveh who obviously had a crush on you, you were more like a like-minded individual to Al-haitham; someone who he could match wavelengths with. He could spend the whole day everyday with you without worrying about anything, and he would feel rather lonely if you weren’t there. Was it different from what Kaveh was feeling about you? He thought it was, but now he wasn’t sure anymore.

Al-haitham felt you tighten around him once more, probably prompted by Kaveh playing with your chest. He could feel himself slowly climbing into his climax, his dick twitching inside of you.

“I can’t…no more…I’m…” you managed to croak out, voice hoarse and dry from all the screaming.

“It’s okay...” Kaveh cooed as he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “we’re cutting it close too…”

“Cum with us, YN,” Al-haitham encouraged.

This was the moment you waited for, feeling both their dicks plunging in and out of you. You reveled at how full you felt, at how you were drowning in so much pleasure that your mind just turned off on its own. This moment where you were all in the brink of your climax was something you chased after—it was the height of all anticipation, of all the build-up. Soon, it will spill over into waves of ecstasy; devouring the three of you whole.

With their erratic paces and their ragged breaths, both men ravished both your holes as they try to reach their peak. You yourself was feeling the brunt of their thrusts, with knuckles white from gripping tightly on Kaveh’s shoulders and eyes rolling to the back of your head. A single hard thrust from both men had you collapsing on your orgasm, walls tightening as your body shook intensely. Following after you, Kaveh painted your walls white, spilling his seed deep into you with a loud growl. Al-haitham finished last, pumping his cum into your ass until it spilt over your hole.

Losing strength, Al-haitham slumped beside you and Kaveh as he tried to catch his breath. You could’ve passed out at the moment, if only the both of them weren’t still hard and ready to go. You yourself weren’t as satisfied as you ought to be, now beginning to miss their deep and sharp thrusts.

“Seems like we’ll have to satisfy this place before it would let us stop,” Al-haitham remarked, pulling out from you with his cum spilling out.

Helping you sit up, Kaveh also pulled out from you, groaning in the process. He wouldn’t want to admit it but he was as eager as you started; evident from how hard he still was despite coming twice.

“You can still take more, can’t you YN?”

“We’ll help you, so don’t worry about anything.”

Climbing back on the chaise, Kaveh pulled you to his lap while Al-haitham captured your lips with a grunt escaping his mouth. That all led you to Kaveh pounding your ass this time while Al-haitham shoved his cock into your pussy—your juices mixing and staining your skin. Imprisoned in the room, the three of you had no perception of time, thus it felt like you were fucking for eternity with no chance of calming down.

The three of you tried every position possible in order to satiate the brewing desire ever-present in the pits of your stomachs. One time you were riding Kaveh while you had Al-haitham on your mouth. Another time you were held by Al-haitham, wrapping your legs around his waist as he fucked your sore cunt raw, while Kaveh was pressed behind you, cock plunging deep in your ass. Both your two holes were full of their cum, spilling out on your thighs and legs.

At that point, the three of you were unbothered where this was going. If this was where you meet your end, you could just imagine Al-haitham’s look of disappointment and disgust. That was hilarious in and of itself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. You just wanted to have them both by your side, filling you with their seed over and over again.

By the time you came to notice, you had already awoken yourself from sleep. Both men were lying close, bodies splayed over you as if you three had passed out from fucking too much.

But there, on the periphery of your vision, you saw a door, which wasn’t there before. You rubbed your eyes to check if you weren’t imagining things, but fortunately enough, you weren’t. It was there.

“Kaveh! Al-haitham! Wake up!” you exclaimed, pinching their noses to wake them up.

“Wha…? What happened…?” Kaveh asked, groaning at how heavy both you and Al-haitham were.

“Could you tone it down please?” the younger man scolded, still planning to go back to resting.

But as you were about to move, all the activity you did came crashing on you.

“Oww my fucking back!”

EPILOGUE

“And so, that is the conclusion of our research on Ruin No. 255b. While our paper is far from conclusive, we would like to take another look at it for more study.”

Al-haitham ended your presentation with a resounding applause from the panel of sages. They were more or less satisfied, saying how the three of you always produced great research which definitely warranted high honors upon graduation.

“But still, I’m curious,” the sage from the Amurta Darshan began. “This section here…on how leyline energy affects an individual’s libido. It’s so incredibly detailed that I have to ask how you were able to get this data.”

You smiled nervously, as you exchanged looks with the two men. “Well, we just had a few volunteers…”

[lovemyromance]

ACOTAR FANDOM RANT incoming:

Y'all will never see me commenting on a properly tagged anti-Elriel post just to start a fight or even point out something the OP misconstrued or concluded (however incorrectly).

Ok I've done it maybe like three times, and it was probably back from when I was brand spankin new to this fandom's insanity and didn't understand the rules (learned Very quickly as a result of a bad encounter with the you know who's), or because someone copy pasted my post to "prove me wrong" (they didn't)

I've only been active in this fandom since like February 2024, and I have yet to block anyone, block any tags, or even follow any tags.

I see just as many anti-Elriel posts as I see Elriel posts.

Let that sink in.

I don't "go looking" through the anti-elriel tags, but when you don't follow anything - you get a whole lot of everything in your "for you" page.

I see so many flat out wrong interpretations of canon text or people posting about how during "Gwyn & Azriel's dagger lesson, he let her use Truthteller" or "Elain is secretly so in love with Lucien that she self harms instead of using his gifts"

and you know what I do? I exercise my self-control, and scroll. None of my business.

Clearly, I am not someone who is interested or even out lurking in anti Elriel posts for a fight. And yet, I have so many antis commenting on my posts - getting mad - then blocking ME.

Does that make sense? They came onto my page, to tell me I was wrong, and then got mad when I very logically pointed out the flaws in their logic, and then blocked me.

Facts:

I don't go out and start fights on anti-Elriel posts.

When someone comes to my posts, and starts a fight, I am very respectful of that person. You'll see me calling their interpretation wrong - but you won't see me saying anything about them personally, or calling them names or slurs or anything of that nature.

I do not belittle others

I do not dismiss anyone's trauma

I do not diminish anyone's accomplishments

I am respectful of real people's boundaries

I have never brought up tasteless and crude arguments just to "win a fight"

And if anyone thinks otherwise, then go ahead, feel free to prove me wrong. Receipts are all up there. To this day, I haven't deleted a comment, post, or reblog. I have like 80 posts a day, surely if I have behaved poorly in any way, I would've slipped up by now and you'd be able to find it.

But I know I haven't.

Even when people didn't read my post or understand anything I was saying before coming into my comments to fight with me. Even when someone said my trauma doesn't matter. Even when someone said I was "anti SA victims" (which is really funny, because that was after I reluctantly pointed out that I was unfortunately ALSO an SA victim)

I have never, ever, said anything like that to anyone in this fandom. That's just not who I am.

So then why - WHY - do people think it's okay to send me anons that threaten to find me and get me to "stfu about elriel you fucking c*nt" and tell me to go off myself and if I ship Elriel I'm an abuser?

Genuinely - why is that necessary? Why does someone feel the need to type that out, read it back, nod to themselves like "oh yeah that's good". And then send it to a real person??

What do they think I'm going to do? What purpose does that serve? It's very clearly a troll or some Elucien/Gwynriel that doesn't like what I have to say - but why is this the reaction?

Having a preference for a fictional ship does not make you a bad person. I have not once engaged with ANY EL/GA and called them "anti - SA" or "pro - r*pe culture" if they were fighting with me on my post. I think they're crazy sometimes - don't get me wrong - but I'm not out here thinking someone who ships Elucien is anti-women.

That is crazy. If you think having any preference for a ship makes some a "BAD PERSON", respectfully please log off. Get out of this fandom because you are part of the reason it's gotten so bad.

Stop attacking real people over fucking fictional characters. It's not okay, in any context. And I'm tired of it.

Turning off my anons for at least a little bit, sorry to the ones I haven't gotten around to.

[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 4 - Joel Miller

Strawberry Wine

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags/Warnings: none really, pure fluff, Joel needs a hug, reader has anxiety, Ellie playing matchmaker, fluffiest fluff I've ever written, no physical description of reader, soft Joel, not betad

Summary: Ellie convinces you to make an appearance at the community Christmas dance. Luckily for you, she dragged Joel along too.

A/N: Y'all. This is actually so fucking fluffy like I had no idea I could do that. I wrote this mostly listening to "Strawberry Wine" by Deana Carter and I highly recommend you listen to it as you read. I actually imagined the reader to be somewhere in their thirty's and Joel somewhere in his fifty's, but none of that is really mentioned so you can imagine however you would like. Can also be pictured as either Joel :)

***

You don’t recognize the song playing as you step into the barn. It sounds like it could be George Strait, but you can’t be sure. 

You take a look around at how the building’s been decorated for the holidays. Garland, bows, and wreaths hang from the walls and windows, and there are white Christmas lights swooping from beams at the ceiling. 

The entire ambiance is warm and cozy, the lighting just right, the heat at the perfect temperature, and the music playing at just the right volume. It makes you want to stay a while, which was not what you had expected when Ellie invited you to come. 

Although you’re a good bit older than she is, you have a general anxiety that she understands. You had been timid about her coming around at first, but she didn’t give it up even after you expressed your problem, and you figured you might as well give her a chance if she was giving you one in return. 

Now, you see Ellie on a regular basis and really appreciate her kindness and friendship. Though you’re not quite sure how exactly she convinced you to come to the community Christmas dance. 

People you know smile at you as you walk through the crowd, and it makes you feel a little more welcome. You realize, as you do every now and again, that nobody is judging you. These people are your friends, and they’re glad you’re here. The thought makes you relax further. 

Still, you peer over heads as much as you can in search of Ellie. You make it all the way to the bar by the time you realize she must not be here yet. 

No, that doesn’t make sense, because just as you come to that conclusion, you spot Joel Miller sitting at the corner of the bar, his forearms resting on the top. Your stomach flutters and you silently scold yourself. 

Maybe you should ask him where Ellie might be, you think to yourself. Even if that may sound like the most logical thing to do, you know that you’re just using it as an excuse to finally talk to him.

You can tell that he’s the same way as you. Reclusive, hesitant. You see him for that and you respect him. He probably got dragged here the same exact way you did. 

He looks slightly uncomfortable, looking down at the whiskey in front of him and then around the room every couple of minutes. Hell, you probably look just as out of place right now. 

You need to find Ellie; she’ll help you blend in. You need to ask Joel. You nod slightly to yourself and take a step toward him, your heartbeat suddenly in your throat.

No, you decide as you start walking his way. You should ask him to dance with you. You’re already out of your comfort zone as it is, why now venture further? What could it hurt? 

Realistically, you know that’s a dumb way of thinking, but it doesn’t mean you’re going to acknowledge that fact. 

You know that he’s caught you looking at him, he probably knows how you feel about him, and he’s never said anything. You’re not dumb either, he’s sent some looks of his own your way. You don’t think you imagined it. At the very least, he doesn’t dislike you. 

You take a deep breath and lift yourself into the seat next to him.

“Hey,” you say in the least awkward way you can manage. “Come here with Ellie?” you ask as you put your forearms on the bar, mimicking his stance. 

He looks you up and down, his brows furrowed with slight confusion. You two never really interact, and you definitely don’t ever show any kind of sign that you might want to other than your stolen glances. While you see that as shyness and fear of giving yourself away, he sees it as plain disinterest. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, his deep southern drawl warming you to a melting point. “What’s goin’ on?” 

You don’t answer at first, too busy admiring how beautiful he looks up close. His brown eyes are deep but warm, his lips just plump enough to make you want to lean in and kiss him. He looks inviting but guarded at the same time, and you have no idea how he manages. 

It’s not often you get to see him like this. Usually it’s only in passing if you’re hanging out with Ellie and he happens to be around. Unfortunately, that’s never stopped you from having a stupid big crush on him.

Joel clears his throat and turns back to his drink when you say nothing, obviously not in the mood for games. “I just wanted–,” you panic and blurt a little too loudly. Joel flinches at the unexpected outburst and you grimace. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly as he turns back to face you. You can see a ghost of an amused smile on his face now, and it makes your stomach do a backflip. 

He nods slowly and subtly, taking you in as he seemingly contemplates whether or not he wants to entertain whatever you want from him. The blush creeping up your cheeks makes you seem disarming enough for him to decide he might as well. 

“I was just wondering if, um,” you suddenly find yourself more nervous than you had anticipated. You swear it’s those eyes, the way they bore into you so attentively, like he can see your every thought. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you to do the same. 

“C’mon now, darlin,” he says, not impatiently, but amused. “Spit it out.” 

You almost choke at the pet name which does nothing to help your stuttering or your blush. 

“I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to, uh–and you really don’t have to if you don’t feel like it, so please don’t feel pressured or anything–but I just saw you over here alone and thought that you could–wow, I’m sorry I’m just kind of noticing that this is a dumb question, like of course you don’t want to–”

You get cut off from your rambling when Joel places a hand on your shoulder, a look of concern on his face. 

“Woah, sweetheart, why don’t you just slow down a bit. Have a sip of water or somethin,” he suggests and waves to the bartender to order you a glass. 

You must be the shade of a tomato at this point. 

“Sorry,” you say, determined to just fucking get it out. You steel yourself and look up at him.

“I was wondering if you would like to dance with me,” you say with a surprisingly smooth confidence that contradicts your every action from the last five minutes.

Joel looks taken aback but the smile that creeps onto his face settles your nerves. 

“You sure that’s what you want, darlin?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve danced in damn near twenty-five years. Probably be trippin’ over my feet more than anythin’.” 

He’s surprised you would want such a thing, and not entirely convinced that you mean it. Why on God’s green earth would you even waste time talking to him? 

You laugh and shake your head. 

“Of course I’m sure,” you say reassuringly. “To tell you the truth: I’m not much of a dancer either,” you admit in a whisper, as if it’s some big secret you don’t want to get out. 

He laughs quietly a bit as the bartender slides a water over. He takes it and pushes it your way. 

“Alright darlin’, guess we’ll just have to figure it out together, huh?” he asks with a chuckle. 

You ignore the blood rushing to your cheeks again as you nod at him. If you’re being honest, you hadn’t expected him to really take you up on your offer. He almost seems surprised himself that he did. 

You take a sip of your water before reaching your hand out. He takes it and lets you drag him slowly toward the crowd. 

Just as you step onto the floor, the lights dim and “Strawberry Wine” By Deana Carter starts to play. You smile at Joel and he smiles right back. In this moment, every ounce of nervousness and insecurity leaves your body. 

You find a relatively empty spot on the crowded floor and throw your arms around his neck. He grins down at you and pulls you closer to him with his hands interlocked on your lower back. 

The two of you find a rhythm almost immediately. You sway slowly and comfortably to the music, resting your head on his chest. You close your eyes and breath in his scent. Sandalwood, fresh linen, an earthy spice. You can’t imagine anything suiting him better. 

He slowly moves his hands so that one is placed on your hip, and the other is cupping the back of your head, holding you close to him as if you could disappear into thin air. 

There’s a gentle press of something on the top of your head, and you smile as you realize that he just planted a kiss there. He then rests his chin where his lips had touched, breathing out a sigh and closing his eyes. 

The two of you rock back and forth together, completely enamored in the closeness and comfort of each other. The fact that Joel is able to make you relax so completely with just his presence is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You don’t remember the last time you felt so completely safe. 

Your eyes open and you stare off to the wooden floorboards beneath your feel, focusing on Joel’s soothing heartbeat against your ear. Being in his arms brings you a sense of belonging that makes you never want to leave his grasp. He breathes deeply in a fashion that brings you to believe he’s thinking the same thing.

As the song is ending, the two of you pull away just enough to gaze into each other’s eyes, both pairs watery. You had both forgotten how wondrous it feels to be in another’s warm embrace. 

He sees the want in your eyes that mirrors his so greatly and he takes it as permission to lean down for you to meet him halfway. You reach up to lock your lips with his just as the song fades out.

The kiss is hesitant and slow, but filled with desire and yearning at the same time. He cups the back of your head more firmly and slides his hand enough to let his thumb brush along your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. 

You have a feeling that this won’t be your last dance with Joel Miller. 

***

Honestly not sure how I feel about this. Please let me know if y'all liked it and/or you would like to see more like it. Thank you for reading <3

Another big, fat, juicy thanks to @mandoalorian for hosting this challenge and also to @planet-marz1 for this post and to @iknowisoundcrazy for commenting on said post which gave me the ultimate inspiration for today’s prompt. (Sorry that was a mouthful 😭)

Link to prompt list

[flyingpurplepeopleprogrammer]

Let's talk about thoughtlessness and brainlessness:

It's a broad topic, so I want to be clear that I'm not lumping the blissfully mindless in with mushin or the wannabe brainless bimbos, but there is a common thread.

See, so many of y'all aim for those spaces and then - like the dog that caught the car - have no idea what to do when you get there. You get that fleeting moment of peaceful, free, empty, or dumb and then... Whoops. Where'd that thought come from? It's a tragedy.

Now don't get me wrong, you can play with that: degradation for not even being able to not think or fractionation in the form of rapidly switching between here and nowhere - there's no shortage of options.

But think about what you're actually doing for a moment. Your brain is a finely tuned noise generator, a veritable idea generating machine that's evolved and sophisticated over a bazillion years and you're trying to make it not do, like, it's Thing. It's not trivial. Is it distracting thinking about how terribly affected you'd have be to be able to just stop thinking like that?

If you really want to be mindless and stay that way, then you've got to look at things a little differently.

People who are mindless don't just have their brains turn off. They're just doing a different kind of thing - experiencing a different kind of focus. Some folks get it through exercise or meditation. Others chase spirals. If you want to float in mindlessness then you need to give that lovely and clever brain of yours another way to be.

And since the intelligence play crowd will feel left out otherwise - I should say that that's how you get to be a silly little puddle, too, but to address that I need to put on my wholesome educator hat for a second:

People our society calls stupid or dumb are very, very seldom so. They've got the same kind of clever brains as everyone else! Most of the time - and that's the "most" of a person who habitually never says always - they're just caught up in what we decide are the wrong kind of thoughts. Maybe they missed some vital prerequisites. Maybe they really, really confidently believe that this or that line if reasoning is off limits to them. (Looking at you, shitty sexist math teachers.) Whatever the reason, even the most vapid creature is going to show you that they're quite clever and quite able to learn if you put them in an appropriate environment, and if you listen to "stupid" long enough to understand then you'll usually find they make perfect logical sense. It's just that their logic might be missing some vital pieces of information.

But how did that help you, dear reader, be a silly, giggly object? I'll tell you: you want to learn from them. Silly enlightenment isn't not having a brain; it's letting your brain wander over to play with things that don't matter. The version of that you dream up well be your own, of course: you might picture your ideal silly self replacing serious smartness with lustful daydreams and 47 palettes of makeup. Or you might see yourself fixated on what's really, truly, blissfully important to you - less valley girl, more devoted thrall. Or, well- the options are endless, as are the ways to keep yourself wherever you want to end up.

Some folks don't really have a problem with any of that, mind. They just slip into whatever headspace they wanted and their clever brains keep entertained in the background - possibly even by delighting in watching themselves tumble face first into decadence.

For the rest of us, though, what's important is that you don't despair if your first brushes with an empty head are fleeting. There's a set of skills to be learned, and if you spend a little time exploring where you want to end up and what it looks like to stay there then it can be a lot easier.

[primaviva]

'Writes minors in unsafe situations'

But didn't you write Gwen as a serial killer?? Is that not an unsafe situation? Or does that not apply to you for some reason? Didn't Talia write a fic where she aged up Miles and made him have a baby?

Are you seriously mad at her writing a damn fanfiction? Y'all didn't seem to have issues with her before so it seems you just want to be mad about something. Stop with the picking and choosing

Don't be a hypocrite

“don’t be a hypocrite” don’t be senile bree…

let’s tackle this real quick. if you follow me you know most of my fics are based on COMIC gwen unless specifically said otherwise to the plot or the description, meaning she ages from 17-21 in my writings which is appropriate. that’s why most characters are randy, avril, harry, etc because i go off the comics that have more information and world building. and if we wanna keep going off your lopsided logic let’s bring up the actual scream movie since you’re bringing up ghostface gwen… baby billy was 17. stu was 18. do you know that this is because they were in their senior year and were legally becoming adults?? so it’s not crazy or unsafe considering they are gonna be damn near adults?? you tried, next!

now talia, let’s add some context. she never aged up miles so let’s start there. she also never made him and reader have a baby. what you are tryna do is spin the narrative, try to rationalize and reap together any last bit on brain fell to hit her with a “gotcha” moment and it’s not gonna work. and baby girl what’s w the inconsistency of not double checking your shit?? cus i stand on my business and who i associate with so i asked talia myself and also investigated which took two clicks.

let’s show you the fic, which literally summarizes the plot in the first two paragraphs.

notice here how…. it says they are in visions academy?? notice how…. it says that it’s the robotic baby project that most high schoolers get if their school offers a home ec?? it’s a cute, creative, well written, and completely wholesome concept.

yk what’s not safe tho? writing a fic of miles smoking and not aging him up which multiple people have come to talk to me about since they feel more comfortable to say how questionable the content you spit out is. the smoking thing wouldn’t even be justified with an age up, but at pests it would’ve showed some moral effort! whats not safe is writing a fic about reader indulging in drinking which is a clear self insert and making her go see miles while drunk. you know what else not safe? probably the most outrageous one sent to me but ITS NOT CUTE TO WRITE AN AGED UP MILES FIC WHERE THE READER IS A YANDERE, STABS HIS GIRLFRIEND NECK THEN SLASHES HER FACE, THEN ON TOP OF THAT KILLS MILES BY SLITTING HIS THROAT. take that in and reread the insanity.

context: reader finds out miles has a girlfriend, so she breaks into their place with a balaclava and knife. i don’t even need to tell you why it’s wrong and weird jus skim😭😭😭😭😭

stop picking and choosing when to apply common sense and critical thinking 🙏 especially on my page cus this shit is WEIRD. just accept your situation instead of tryna rationalize it with deducted views that aren’t even fact checked.

[tobiasdrake]

The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, Episode 16

Final episode. It's now or never, Yuki. If you don't pull that trigger this time then you'll never have another--

Well, actually, I think I heard the manga goes farther than the anime does? So. Maybe not. But I want my catharsis after all the time and feels I've invested in her emotional journey!

My dude, it is 2015. You need to sit down with Itsuki for a coffee and ask him about climate change.

Oh this ship is fucked. I don't know how you come back from jerking your hand away from her touch like she's infected with plague.

Pretty sure you're at "Fake my death and move to the next town over" territory at this point.

Like. I get where he's coming from. Factory Settings confessed her love to him and then immediately dropped dead. Anyone would be freaked out over that.

I'm just saying, poor Yuki. She does not know the context of this moment. Minus that, I would be super offended.

Look at her trying not to cry while she apologizes for holding hands with the boy she likes, like it was a grievous personal transgression. The boy who, I should note, grabbed her hand in the first place rather than the other way around.

Yuki. Sweetheart. I'm so sorry this is your life right now.

I can't even be like, "Tell him, Yuki," because boy is grieving so that would not help. Things just suck for everyone in this moment.

Oh my god.

We are actually doing a ninth episode of Eternal Eight.

I mean. In a sense, we've been doing a ninth episode of Eternal Eight since the previous episode. Still.

The audacity. I'm not even mad. I've been complaining about recycling material for the last two episodes but part of me admires the brazenness in going full stop, "Fuck all-a y'all, IT'S ETERNAL EIGHT AGAIN ASSHOLES." XD

Like. There is a logic to ending the series by revisiting the arc that caused Yuki to malfunction and eat Haruhi in the first place. I just. the context of it being this arc specifically.

They had seven years to make new Haruhi material. Seven years to think about the reception to the existing material, and make decisions for what they'd want to do in the new spinoff show. And somebody actually had the nerve to go, "You know what the fans really want? More Eternal Eight."

That is such a Fuck You move that I'm kinda here for it.

Mikuru and Tsuruya aren't here because the timey-wimey shenanigans put Ryoko here instead. That means we're probably not going goldfish scooping.

I do believe I said earlier that I hope everyone died in any cycle where we deprived Mikuru of the one thing she wanted. Sorry, gang, but you're all going under the nearest bus.

Look on the bright side. It might bring Factory Settings back.

Took you 594 years to figure your shit out last time. Try and break your record, Kyon!

Itsuki's branching out into subtle metaphor. Kyon never retains anything Itsuki tells him directly so maybe giving him a puzzle to solve will make him internalize the knowledge better.

Or it will fly over his head. One of the two.

Will Yuki remember to buy a mask? And will they go goldfish scooping so they don't all have to die in a wildfire moments after the credits roll? These are the important questions of Festival Trip 9.

OH MY HARUHI she got distracted by a live performance of Will It Blend. FELT THOUGH. Holy shit, I miss those shameless commercials barely masquerading as an entertainment web show.

You know what? I can accept this. As long as she's having the time of her life, I can forgive a lack of goldfish scooping.

Get fucked, Tsuruya. It is Blender Time.

This is officially one of the best scenes in the franchise. Up there with the time she punched Kyon in the face. Mikuru is getting to enjoy life with no strings attached and got to violently assault one of her abusers. Just like punching Kyon, I could watch her backhand Tsuruya on loop for hours.

Now we just need a scene of her pushing Haruhi in front of a bus and she'll have a hat trick of retaliations.

Also, I still demand they animate the scene of her hurling Kyon down a flight of stairs. I need it.

Okay so we're still going goldfish scooping, we're just doing it without Mikuru.

Not sure if that makes me vindictive again or not. Because on the one hand, this was Mikuru's activity. We were only doing it because she wanted it.

But she's having a really good time watching Will It Blend. If anyone went over to fetch her for scooping, they'd go in the blender.

Dooooo ittttttttttt

And also buy her a mask while you're at it. Failing to acquire a mask for Yuki may or may not also be a death-by-wildfire offense.

Legit thought she was going to be like, "If Yuki and Kyon are officially a thing now then that means you're up for grabs, right? 'Cause I call dibs."

But no. She is going to sort out her feelings with physical violence against inanimate objects.

This is way more believable than her OOC talk with Kyon earlier.

Also, by helping Ryoko sort her feelings with physical violence, Haruhi is nonetheless kinda calling dibs.

(In seriousness, I stand by what I said before regarding how, it may not seem like it, but the fracturing of their emotional codependency doesn't have to mean the end of Ryoko's relationship with Yuki. In time, it may even be stronger than ever for it.

Haruhi's definitely fucked, though. But. Y'know. Fuck her. She is my character and I say this with love but... get fucked, Haruhi. She will be better off in the long run for having learned to process disappointment, as opposed to the spoiled and entitled goddess who drugged Mikuru. This is the kind of thing she desperately needs in the original series.)

Now, all Kyon has to do is be open and honest with his feelings. Specifically, the feelings that I have decided on his behalf that he has, because he's never actually expressed romantic interest towards this version of Yuki but I NEED HIM TO IF THE SHIP IS GOING TO BE FULFILLED.

Which is how Melancholy handles him too. So it's fair.

Aww, Factory Settings came back for this. ^_^ Squee!

So. Confusing. For Escapist Yuki who's passively receiving a love confession meant for a different version of her, though. I feel like she just became a replacement goldfish for herself. So many complicated feelings about this.

Oh. Never mind. I guess Yuki lost the Yuki -> Kyon -> Factory Settings love triangle. Sorry, gurl. But at least you still have Spacetime.

Just. Not right now because you will go in that blender.

(Also Ryoko!)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

He is flirting with you.

In seriousness, it makes sense that they don't clinch the romance here. Like I said earlier, Kyon is grieving. This episode is his opportunity to finally sort out his feelings towards Factory Settings, which he needs to do before he'll be emotionally available for anyone.

This is about Kyon getting closure. I'm sure there's probably much more manga to come before Yuki finally gets what she wants, if she ever does - I keep thinking back to the way her wishes are never, "I want to be with Kyon" but rather "I want to stay friends with everyone."

Still. I want nice things for her, dammit!

Being adopted as Haruhi's mom is agony. Ryoko will be thrilled to know she remains employed at the Nagato residence.

She got something better than a goldfish this time around. She is armed and dangerous. Nobody will ever mess with Mikuru again.

She'll blend your phone. Your personal belongings. The clothes off your back. You. She is a deadly blending warrior now and don't you forget it.

Look at Tsuruya's face. Feel how the power dynamic has shifted.

I'm mad that we end on status quo.

But also happy for Yuki because she got what she wished for all the same.

Complicated feelings.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Post-credits joke is top fucking tier HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

This makes no sense but it doesn't have to because this is the end of the road for the show, so it's not going to be followed up on. It's just. An amazing punchline to cap off the revisit of Eternal Eight.

[rin-and-jade]

would y'all happen to know how to handle a persecutor-gatekeeper? our system has one who can force dormancy & switches and trying to find resources on what to do about them hasn't been fruitful. it's not a regular persecutor situation due to their executive control over other alters, and even if it were they're too emotionally closed off to attempt the "appeal to emotions" route. any advice?

(this is rather lengthy but i promise everything i wrote here is important,, as surface leveled, short answers will not cover everything i want to convey)

I'd consider myself a gatekeeper with persecutive tendencies (its the better way to say keeper + persc role for my comfy-ness) and anger issues/holder. As a logical keeper (ISTJ) and ex persc who is also not easily appealed by my own people's 'puppy eyes' and begs, though can be influenced by rage,, I feel qualified enough to tell you my story from how i came up with persecution, what i did in that moment of life, and how i overcame and changed my overall view which renders myself as docile, where i pursuit functionality and etc which made me open this blog for the better of others.

Back then i was a really rude person, though not necessarily causing harm to anyone,, till something sets off the fuse and made me go wrecking some havoc (for short, i've seen how badly my people are doing/coping and as i was never exposed to healthy ways to fix things back then, i resorted to this in order to 'fix' things). I'd hog all the time i had outside at front and never let any friends see my other people, they can beg me how many times they want to and i never let it happen but if i was being nice i'd only give a whole day and back at it again. It's as easy as not doing what i say to push someone to dormancy, creating an environment where there are no such thing as mercy until i achieve the 'ideal' results that's wanted.. or is that what i actually wanted?

Slowly yet surely i begin to notice that my strict and forceful actions did not grow any results,, on this section i don't remember much but got the gist where this is the time i actually tried to loosen the 'ropes' i invincibly tied to my people because i was curious enough if that will generate results. It did. I also shunned down anything they say to me but at that same time i actually took it to consideration. Things are going smoothly because i decided to stop adding unnecessary pressure and ACTUALLY telling what i find troubling and talking it out instead of just bashing their head without a word, not even telling what they did wrong. It took me months to regain everyone's trust because i did an unbelieveable amount of damage that was irreversible,, thankfully i was forgiven. From that period on i dedicate myself to unlearn some nasty ways of doing things, then you can guess the rest from here.

IN CONCLUSION.. If using emotional ways don't work, then opt for logical reasoning. We all have something we care about that contributes to why someone does this or that, the good or bad way. The last thing i wanted to be is being wrong so factual proofs and basic common sense (that punishment doesn't breed better results, things like that) might help. There's one thing that could change me sooner at the past, possibly by asking "why are you doing this?" because i was villainized right off the bat (which was fair) even though i had good intentions. I think showing friendlier ways to achieve the same thing would help putting a stop to the current actions too,, but i want to emphasize that your keeper can't be forced and need to make it's own decision, pushing it is also counterintuitive. This work requires you (your people) and the keeper in need of change, this does not work in one direction/way/party.

If you feel like needing extra help/guidance and get in touch with me to do this step by step, come to the DMs and i'll be happy to provide you with anything, i assume you can take matters in your own hands as i don't want to meddle unless consented, hope it was a-ok day for you!

- j

[silktherambler]

Hello hello, so I'm here to talk about how I don't want to be famous.

I am considering maybe not making music my life's work, like don't get me wrong it would be my life's work as in I will always make music and put it out and if I get small popularity because of it as in like my musical stuff, or my artist stuff, that's great but I'm not looking to like make a name off of it I'm not looking to make it make me famous but I would love it if it brought in some money

I am genuinely scared of fame and it's because I see the way that our generation and our society treats these musical artists they never used to treat them like this before

If you had to wait a while for you know one of your favorite artists to put out something even though it was high in demand you know you want fire ass pieces like nobody was going to see here and rush Chaka Khan on on her projects or rush Whitney Houston on her projects except for like their companies and and the people that they signed to which makes sense because that's how the companies work

They need a certain amount of tracks or sounds from you by a certain point that makes sense that's just how the industry works, but when it gets to the point that fins are continuously demanding things from you and they haven't even set to fully appreciate the body of art that you have already put out is very frustrating and I think not to bring him up but like lol logic had talked about this before

He was like I just dropped a project and they asking for more he said it in a song and It was a good way, but on a real ass note, your favorite are just dropped a body of work, and you're asking for another body of work. They sat there and damn near begged Rihanna every minute to please drop a song please drop a song please drop a song, years later she drops a song and tribute to Chadwick Boseman (R.I.P) And y'all are all focused on how it sounds and the layers and it's like appreciate the art that was given this is a tribute to somebody who passed away somebody who was a great actor himself somebody who the whole movie was tributed to, and people are mad about how it sounds?

Know what gets me the most tight, other than the Megan the stallion situation, I find myself being most upset when it comes to Normani and Beyoncé.

Normani hasn't made anything in a while and I've seen a lot of people talking about she's falling off she is plummeting in the industry she's not going to make it and I'm like yo y'all are so selfish, you don't even know what this girl might have going on at all in her life as to why she hasn't put out anything yet, and it just sucks because it's like as soon as she drops another song yeah they're going to come ride it like y'all acting like you're just going to push it to the side, especially if you're able to hear a really good snippet of the song you're all are going to bump it

Like SZA, everybody's been trying to get her to drop music without music do this and that since she dropped CRTL, and it took some time but she was able to drop SOS and I bet, give it three to five months, and they're going to be asking her for another project even though she already said this is probably going to be her last album

You know who's another great example before I get back into my two examples I just said there, Frank Ocean. Frank lost his 18-year-old little brother...

And niggas was STILL asking him for new music I think that should say a lot about what our priorities are and where are morals are this person just lost somebody that was real to them like for y'all and to y'all y'all know him as Frank y'all know him as Frank Ocean or Lonnie Breaux, or however else you know Frank but that's the bottom line y'all know him as Frank, but his brother knew him as Christopher his brother knew him as Chris before the official name change. That was a real person to him that was somebody that really knew him and y'all are asking him to drop more music when he just lost somebody that had piece of his heart

Now let me get into Beyoncé real quick, woman makes a fantabulous album right, and ever since she has made the album people have been repeatedly begging her, can you please drop a visual, can you please drop hot ones or do a interview or do this or do that or all these things that she did not say she was going to do right now she never promised y'all jack shit,

When did she tell you all y'all I was going to get a music video? When did she tell you all y'all was going to get an interview? When did she say that she was going to drop a visual? When did she say she was going to go on any platform to talk about the project? She hardly promoted her damn self, she put it out and y'all did all the work for her, as it should be, and I love the fact that she's at the place in her life where y'all can demand demand demand and she don't have to supply because you're going to rock with it anyway

After Beychella, That woman was literally unstoppable and still is, you can't tell her anything after them ticket prices, who knows how this tour is about to go, from lemonade to Coachella, this is only going to go up from here, y'all should be happy if she decides to put out another project and announce that she has another project out, but y'all are going to find it and bump it anyway and this is my whole point

The problem with this generation is that y'all love to rush art and you don't even appreciate it once you get it, You don't even appreciate it for what it is and it's sad

I rather make my music for me and me only than to put it out here and have people just demand more for me just so they can have something to keep them entertained instead of actually appreciating what I'm putting my blood sweat heart and time into

[wtftarot]

PAC: Temperance

Where Justice's balance is all logic and laws, Temperance talks about the kind of fluid balance that works better for emotions and spirituality. Temperance talks about seeing things in shades of gray. Temperance is the calm surety of intuition. The balance of nature: mild and gentle but also unflinching and ruthless. Temperance is inner peace and strength. The balance between the material and the spiritual. Where do you need more harmony? Where do you need a more balanced perspective? Maybe you need to ruthlessly make your peace a priority? Let's fuck around and find out.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes only and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember: use common sense and don't be a dumbass.

Pick the Cups, the Irises, or the Sun and Mountains, and head to your reading.

The Cups

Ok, before I even got all the cards pulled I got a vibe that a lot of people who pick this group may be currently in the closet? And I was kinda confused about what that had to do with the reading, but when I finished pulling the cards it all made sense. Sweetheart, you will have a place and time to be free and safe. There is peace in your future. You are not any less valid than someone who's out. I'm getting that some of you may be even be feeling guilty or bad for being lgbtqia? Listen to me, babe: You have nothing to be guilty for. You are good. You are whole. You are strong and badass and so, so, fucking worthy of love. And that goes for all y'all, not just those of y'all struggling with sexual/gender identity (but especially those who are).

The message for all of y'all is about balance in your relationships and prioritizing yourself. Y'all may be giving too much to the people around you and not keeping anything for yourself? Blessings are trying to come your way but every time you receive something good, you immediately give it away. Did y'all know that being generous to a fault is ACTUALLY a problem? Not even in a humble-brag way but in a giving-to-the-point-that-it-hurts-you-financially,-emotionally,-or-physically way. Or in a you're-uncomfortable-with-receiving-things way. Or maybe even a feel-your-worth-is-based-on-how-much-you-give-or-do-for-others way. The blessings are being held back because what's the point if you're going to give them away? They're for you. Not the people around you. Sometimes the point of something IS to make you happy and that's fuckin it. You can have nice things just because you like them. Not only that but you DESERVE nice things. You don't need a reason to be happy. Fighting for your happiness isn't silly or naive. You don't need to justify it or prove you deserve it. More than that: you can make your own happiness a priority in your life. Hard to believe, right? But it's true. It's your life and contrary to popular belief, you are supposed to be the main focus of your life. I mean, it's your life who else should be the focus? The blessings coming your way won't look how you think they will. Or they won't show up the way you think they will. They will come when you stop trying to give them away. When you stop trying to be everything and do everything for everyone else and take care of yourself first. You can't pour from an empty cup, babe. No matter how hard you try. You are super powerful as hell but you keep using that power for everyone else. Then you wonder why you never seem to get anywhere. You got the Death card representing what you don't see. That tells me that you have no fucking clue how much you're life will shift once you start prioritizing yourself. You may not even realize how much energy you've been giving away. Temperance is here, feels like demanding you make choices with your best interest in mind. With your happiness in mind and doing so ruthlessly. Demand rest. Demand joy. Demand your life to be your own.

One other thing, if any of y'all have a shitty ass boss. One who acts like you owe them or acts like they own you? First of all: they're a dick. Second: They don't own you and you don't owe them jack shit. So, they gave you a job, big fucking deal. People are hired all the damn time, they ain't a saint for doing their job. I'm not going to advise you to do anything that could fuck you over but it may be good for you to find ways to regain some control over your working life. Whatever that means for you.

random ass vibes: 88, yellow, origami, paper cranes, wings, birds, blue eyes, Capricorn, frayed blankets, oreos, the wizard of oz,

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The Irises

Before I pulled any cards I heard 'take off the crown' or 'time to take off the crown'. And looking at your cards, I get it. Y'all have presented the world with this persona to hide who you really are and you're sick of it. It looks exhausting, tbh. It'll be different for all of y'all but it looks like y'all are way softer, gentler than you let on. You put on this mask of apathy and logic but you've got a shit ton of love to give. My chest/ heart space are physically aching with it right now. For some of you, this 'mask' is very cutthroat or ruthless. I think all of y'all feel like this persona is stronger than the 'real' you and you don't want to lose that strength? Being more genuine would mean admitting to the parts of yourself that are vulnerable and I'm hearing squishy? Y'all may have even received praise at one point for how tough and unbothered you seemed. I just heard 'low maintainance'. Lemme just say people being low maintenance is a fucking lie. We all have emotional, physical, and spiritual needs that should be met and when they're not it doesn't build up some sort of tolerance, it creates a deficit. Think about it, you can't build up a tolerance for dehydration, and people who drink enough regularly can go longer without water IF they have to because they're fully hydrated. They may feel the lack of water before someone who's chronically dehydrated but that's just because they're not used to the symptoms. Emotional needs are the same way, even if we refuse to recognize that. Y'all are worried that if you show your softer side, you'll fall off of that 'low maintainance' pedestal that others have put you on. Is that really a bad thing though? If people are only around you because you're not getting your needs met? Because here's the thing: the ONLY thing that will happen is you fall off that pedestal, or you take off that 'unbothered' crown. You are as strong as you think you're pretending to be. Yeah, you maybe secretly crying in the shower but crying is a human expression. No different than laughing when you're happy or yelling when you're pissed, are those expressions weak too? You can be soft and sensitive and care and still kick ass. Yeah, you'll lose the title of unbothered who the fuck cares though? Be bothered about shit. If someone's treating you like shit be fucking bothered, bothered enough to tell them off. You don't deserve that. Do you think people who created awesome changes in our society, did it by being the most 'unbothered'? Hell no! They got good and rightly pissed off and they set out to fix shit. Fuck apathy, sweetheart. Aim for passion. You have such a big heart and you care deeply about the world. Caring is a good thing, but it doesn't help anyone if you don't show it.

There's a second smaller message for some of you who are exploring more spiritual things: This attitude is blocking your intuition and it's through your softer side that your gifts will truly shine.

random ass vibes: turtles, plaid, goats, cowboys, goldfish, iced coffee or tea, grocery shopping after midnight, slurpy

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The Sun and Mountains

First off, y'all need to give yourselves a pat on the back. I'm seeing that y'all have just finished up or are on the tail end of a really fuckin rough cycle in your life. This cycle was one of self-growth and learning your own depths. (I'm getting that some of you may be in the middle of this cycle and if that's you this is a message of encouragement that you're kickin' ass and it won't be much longer now.) Some of y'all have been unlearning family patterns and trauma. Damn, sweetheart. That's a rough one. I'm getting this really strong defiant vibe from this group. Like I'm hearing 'this ends with me'. This group has looked their shadow or their family's shadow in the eye and not backed down. This is some POWERFUL fucking energy y'all got here. This was mostly internal work for most of you and you've been going through a lot that no one else could see. But sweetheart, I see it, the universe sees it, your guides see it. You need to see it. I think that because you don't have much materially to show for it, you dismiss all the work you've done. but babe. YOU DID THAT. YOU ARE DOING IT. LOOK AT YOU FUCKIN GO! OWN THAT SHIT. This journey has been rough, babe. Let yourself act like it. Take a day and breath. Now that this part is over (or will be over soon) there's some leftover shit you got to let go of from this cycle. The way it's being shown to me is like when you're building something or working on a project and you get it done but now you have to throw away the scraps and shit. It could be some mementos you still have from a shitty time in your life that you need to let go of. Or you may still be doing some of the habits from the last cycle and need to start putting what you learned into action. Maybe you just need to clear the energy from this cycle now that it's over, take a cleansing bath or shower and focus on washing it away, take a dip in a natural body of water, or stand in the rain (my personal favorite). Once you clear the last of this out y'all are going to feel so much lighter and freer. There are definitely some blessings coming your way, it's going to be like a breath of fresh air. Especially if while you were going through this cycle, things were very stagnate or you felt stuck. Things are going to be moving again, it may even take you by surprise. I am seeing a sort of heads-up for some of y'all if this was family shit you were working through, there may be some people who are jealous of the blessings you're getting. They may even try to guilt you for it? Like, make you feel bad for having good things happen? I'm getting that for a few of you someone will try and get you to give your blessings to them. Or talk down about the good things that are happening for you. Only a lil sorry, but this energy is kinda shitty, honestly. It's like when things start going your way they can't stand it and try to pull you down and I don't like that. Be careful who you talk to about your blessings. Don't worry though, this ain't nothing like that cycle you just went through. You got this, easy.

random ass vibes: The Hobbit, LOTR, 44, Here comes the sun, maps, crooked teeth, scuba diving, black cats, a metallic smell??,

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[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 11: Playing the Game

AN: I hope y'all enjoy this non-stop flirt-a-thon, chapter count got increased again, so we'll get back to the plot in the next chapter!

At first, Marinette didn’t know how to act. This was the last route she expected Damian to take. The shock of Damian’s lips against hers turned her body rigid; hands splayed out to the sides, unsure of where to touch. After a second of floundering, she gained enough bearing to place her hands firmly on Damian’s arms. Her once still lips hesitantly moving against his. The closed-mouth kiss stayed chaste, but Marinette found herself fluttering her eyes closed, sinking into the warmth.

Damian stood taller than her, bending into the kiss while she craned her neck. Marinette pushed herself upward, arching onto the tips of her toes, and Damian’s hands wrapped tighter around her waist, deepening the kiss. She readjusted her mouth for a second grabbing a quick gasp of air before diving in again with more fervor. Damian responded in kind, pushing her back fully against the wall, one hand migrating from her waist to cup her cheek.

Damn. Damian was a good kisser.

“What the- Hey, customers are not allowed to be in here!”

Oh, right. The employee. That’s why they were kissing.

Why would kissing be helpful in this situation?

Not that Marinette was complaining, but-

Damian pulled away from her, and Marinette held back a pitiful whine when he turned away and faced the employee.

‘Bad thoughts, Marinette,’ she chided herself. ‘Focus on the mission, not Damian, or his lips, or his eyes, or-’

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” said Damian with a bashful smile.

Wait…

Blink.

What?

Marinette dragged herself out of the kiss-induced bliss, focusing on her co-conspirator, and had she been less in control of herself her jaw would have dropped.

Damian’s whole demeanor had markedly changed. His normal sharp posture sunk into a causal slouch; the emotions on his face, generally a mix of sharp observation or practiced disdain, now a mix of charming elegance and, yes, bashfulness. He flashed a wide grin at the oncoming employee, a person in their early twenties, who froze when they saw them.

Or rather, Damian.

Rapidly blinking bright blue eyes gazed at them. “Oh, oh you- you’re-”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know who I am,” said Damian, rubbing the back of his neck. Even the way he spoke changed; careful pronunciation and formality thrown out the window for a lax New Jersian drawl. “What’s your name?” He asked with such a genuine smile, had Marinette not been versed in people lying through their teeth, she would have bought it.

Not for the first time, Marinette wondered how famous Damian’s family was – obviously rich enough, and high profile enough - to be recognized on the spot.

The person paused for a moment, fiddling with a strand of curly blond hair. “I’m- I’m ah… Fey, nice to meet you Mr.-”

Damian cut them off with a laugh. “Oh please, any name with a mister makes me think of my father or my older brother. Call me Dami.” He offered a hand to the flustered Fey. They limply shook it.

“Oh… ah- alright Dami.”

Damian encircled a hand around Marinette’s waist dragging her out of the weirdness induced fugue state she’d fallen into. “And this… well,” he lowered his eyes, catching her attention and winked. “This is my girlfriend Marinette.”

Fuck, this is what he meant by play along.

Fey dropped open their mouth before closing it quickly.

“Oh, I hadn’t read-”

Damian cut the flustered employee off again.

“We’ve kept it quiet.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The papers would devour a story like this,” he said, with a sense of vapid annoyance, although a trace of his normal calculated disdain accented his words.

Note to self; Damian didn’t like the media. Good, Marinette didn’t much like the invasive vultures either.

Fey nodded along, twirling a lock of hair on their finger. “Oh yeah, that totally makes sense.” They paused shaking their head to clear away an emotion… awe? Fear? Marinette couldn’t tell. “But uh, why are you here? Like in the stairwell, not in the store. Because of course celebrities would still shop, right? I mean-” Poor Fey was a stuttering mess. Marinette almost felt bad for them.

She felt like an absolute stuttering mess too, but she would be damned if Damian would carry this lie all by himself.

She was fucking Ladybug; savior of Paris, Guardian of the Miraculous.

She could act like a lovestruck fool.

“It iz so sweet,” she said, emphasizing her accent to add a little more pageantry to this entire scheme. “I just arrived back from Paris, and wanted to decorate my new apartment with ze ah-” she waved her hands around, “Oh, how you Americans put it? Fairy lights?”

Fey nodded quickly. “Yeah, we have a couple of good selections, but-” Marinette continued before they could logic their way out of the made-up cover story.

“I planned to go by myself, but Dami-” at this she moved forward to wrap her arms around his, leaning into his side. The warmth of his body bleeding through his clothes. “He insisted on ‘companying me even though he dozen’t like ze crowds.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “He gets grumpy,” she divulged with a girlish giggle. Why Damian did a 180 on his personality was a complete mystery, but if he dropped the act, this would make Fey less suspicious.

Fey nodded right along like Marinette’s comment made total sense. “Yeah, I don’t read too many magazines, but damn they must pin you all wrong,” they said to Damian. From Marinette’s position at his side, she felt his body tense the slightest amount. “Gotham’s Ice Prince, yeah right.”

Marinette inwardly quirked an eyebrow. ‘Ice Prince, huh?’ The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on where she’d heard it before.

Damian nervously chuckled again, sounding more authentic this time. “Oh no, I’m a grump when it comes to the media, I fully admit. My, ah,” he looked at her again, an apology flashing in his green eyes. “Angel here puts me in a better mood.”

A rushing noise filled Marinette’s ears, and her heart quickened. She vaguely registered a squeal of delight coming from Fey, but it sounded far away compared to her blood pounding at a thunderous level. Heat flushed in her cheeks, and the confident smile she plastered on her face almost dropped at the pet name.

Angel.

He called her angel.

What level of utter insanity had she dropped into?

“A few disguises later,” Damian continued, adjusting the glasses on his face, and oblivious of the turmoil he’d created in Marinette’s mind. “I thought we’d be able to stay under the radar, I just wanted a day out with my girlfriend,” he said with a put-upon sigh. The emotional, charming actions stood in complete opposite to Damian’s normal demeanor.

Marinette found herself desperately torn between breaking down laughing hysterically or clapping at Damian’s masterful performance.

“You got noticed?” asked Fey.

“We got noticed.” Damian sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Marinette regretted not touching it while she and Damian kissed; was it as fluffy as it looked? “And Marinette, the sweet angel she is, isn’t used to the whole utter insanity of… you know, dating a celebrity.” He glanced at her, teasing her with a fonder smirk than his usual. Marinette wanted to roll her eyes. Damian had no clue she knew very well the consequences of dating a celebrity.

Never mind she’d only dated Adrian a month before they broke up because his dad turned out to be a psychopathic supervillain intent on plunging the whole of France into an apocalyptic hellscape in an attempt to upset the universes’ balance, and was fully okay with killing the both of them to make it happen.

Being friends after that little debacle was the better option. For both their sanities.

‘Focus Marinette.’ She dragged her attention back to the conversation.

“We kinda ducked in here when nobody was paying attention. I want to keep this away from the media as long as possible, for my angel’s privacy.” Marinette wanted to scoff at how Damian leaned into that nickname. He certainly was laying it on thick. Marinette wouldn’t have bought the act, but that was due to her years of lying and deceiving in the name of super-heroics.

Fey, with their eager demeanor and bright blue eyes, didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh, that’s awful people wouldn’t leave you alone. I bet most celebrities would be familiar with the attention, but for you to look out for Marinette too?” They whistled. “Damn girl, he’s a keeper for sure.”

The blush gracing Marinette’s cheeks was 100% real. “Oh, well, ah, zank you. I know.”

“Well, no one will hear a word from me,” Fey promised. They fiddled with their hands and sent a shy smile at Damian. Marinette’s stomach clenched at the sight, and without her permission, her traitorous hands tightened their grip on Damian’s arm. “Without your family’s scholarship, my sister never would have graduated med school. She would kill me if I even thought of ratting you out to the papers.”

“Oh…” said Damian, his outward appearance of shock mirroring Marinette’s own internal emotions.

‘His family is rich enough to fund medical scholarships?’

“Well, that’s not on me directly, you know,” he commented. “All my father’s doing. I hope- ah… I hope she’s doing well?” Although his face portrayed a bashful and relaxed air, his body language screamed uncomfortableness. Marinette released one hand from his arm and brought it to rest on the small of his back, circling her thumb around. He relaxed, slightly, and Marinette smiled.

“Yeah, actually she is,” said Fey beaming. “She’s working at the new pediatric clinic that opened in Crime Alley.”

“Good for her,” said Damian honestly. “We need more people willing to work to make the city a better place. Money can only do so much.”

“Money definitely helps though,” Fey replied, wryly. Marinette agreed. Long-buried memories of her early years arose. Living above her parents’ shop, where every month they spread their bills across the kitchen table and talked in hushed tones while Marinette sat on the steps to her attic room and worried, even if at five and six she didn’t know what she was worried about.

Those days were long gone. Her parents and their creations internationally famous, with three separate locations across the greater Paris metro alone. But that worry never really went away.

Fey shifted on their feet reading their watch. “Well, you guys stay here if you want until whatever crowd out there loses interest.” They gestured to the door Marinette and Damian entered through. “Or you can come with me if you want?” Pointing to the other locked door. “I’m heading out to the atrium to deal with a problem, but you can continue on with your shopping.”

“Zank you so much,” Marinette replied. “We will go with you if you do not mind?”

“Of course not,” said Fey, walking to the door and pulling out a security key. They opened the door, but Damian held it allowing Marinette and Fey to walk through before he followed. Placing a hand once more around Marinette’s waist.

“What problem in the atrium, if you don’t mind me asking?” he prodded, sharing a look with Marinette.

It could be nothing, but it could also have something to do with his brothers.

Considering their luck today, Marinette would be shocked if it wasn’t the latter option.

“Oh, well it started with the children’s center shutting down. Apparently, the kids got it in their minds to start a dodge ball fight with the workers. Which, you know, totally fair,” confided Fey, as they walked through the back corridors. “Sounded like it was a blast to watch. I was such a shit when I was a kid, I would have joined them in a heartbeat. It wrapped up fairly quickly, but they can’t convince the main instigator to descend from the jungle gym. I think they’re still hunting down her parents.”

Marinette pursed her lips trying to hold back a smile. ‘Oh, Abby,’ she thought, ‘you absolute gem.’

“I only heard about it from Lisa when I got back because I was dealing with a security issue in the back lot.” Fey glanced at them nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong, we’re perfectly safe.”

Marinette and Damian shared a look.

Jason.

“Of course,” said Marinette.

Followed by a quick, “Absolutely,” from Damian.

Fey relaxed. “So this is, apparently, a whole bunch of workers on strike? They walked out of the back warehouse and congregated in the atrium, spouting on about living wages and corrupt big business, and the effects of verbal abuse in the workplace.” Fey said with a wave of their arms. “And it’s not like I don’t agree, because I do. Jerry, the warehouse general manager, is an asshole.” Marinette and Damian exchange worried glances at the rotund angry man’s name, who they last saw dragging a singed Tim into an office.

“…but it makes my job hard,” whined Fey, oblivious to their compatriot’s inner panic. “And the Starbucks baristas joined them, so their kiosk closed too.” Fey chuckled, “I would avoid the whole area if I were you, especially if you don’t want anyone finding out you’re together.”

“I wonder how zat ended up happening?” Marinette asked hopefully her high-pitched voice conveyed confusion instead of slowly settling in panic.

“They called in saying some guy lead the charge, he’s worked the crowd into a fervor. I’m there to be the HR rep while security tries to remove him. You know, normally my job involves sitting at a desk all day listening to bitchy customers on the phone. I’ve dealt with more in-store problems today since last Black Friday.” Fey chuckled. “What a day, ya’ know?”

Marinette glanced at Damian, his casual mask still firmly in place, although his left eye twitched, and the hand he wrapped around her waist, tightened at Fey’s words.

Fey finally reached another door, pulling out their pass and lead them out into the store’s main section.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Marinette, Dami,” Fey chirped. “Nobody will hear from me about any of this.” They mimed zipping their lips.

Marinette smiled, hoping the strain wasn’t too noticeable. “It waz nice to meet you too Fey.”

“Good luck with whatever is happening in the atrium,” said Damian. They stood at the door and watched them move out of sight. When Fey finally disappeared around a corner, Damian turned to Marinette his casual persona rippling away as if it never existed at all. His hand slipped off her waist.

She did not, absolutely not, want to grab it and put it back thank you very much.

“How much do you wish to wager on Drake’s involvement in whatever is occurring in the atrium?” he asked. Marinette smiled, reassured at the return of his clipped and formal tone. The informal speech felt wrong coming from Damian’s mouth.

“Oh, I don’t know Dami?” she teased. Then again, she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by her. “I don’t think I have enough money for that bet with you.”

Damian closed his eyes with a grimace and sigh. “Do not call me that.” He opened his eyes, an expression just short of pleading radiated from them “Please.”

“I would rather gag, and it sounds so would you.” Marinette covered her grin with her hand, unable to stop a slight giggle at the man’s long-suffering tone. “You pulled off vapid lovesick celebrity well, but why the need to act at all?”

“I have plenty of reference to draw from,” he grumbled, piquing Marinette’s interest; every half aside comment enticing her to dig further at Damian’s life. “I needed whoever descended those steps on our side and my normal... demeanor tends to put people off.” He folded his hands behind his back, a perfect picture of casualness, but the tightness around his eyes and the twitch of his mouth was all Marinette needed to note his self-consciousness.

“Well, I for one find your usual self charming,” Marinette admitted, pleased when Damian relaxed at her words. “You freaked me out acting that weird.”

“It is not an option I use often,” Damian admitted. “My brothers tend to make big productions of themselves. I prefer a far subtler approach, but this required more theatrics to make it believable.” He glanced at her. “I hope…” he paused. She watched his hand flutter and turn into a fist at his side. “I hope I did not overstep your bounds, that is, I mean violate your...” Damian refused to look at her, his gaze firmly planted on a far wall.

Marinette could let the poor man continue but ended up taking pity on him before he dug an even deeper hole. She placed a hand on his arm. “You were fine. If I didn’t want you… kissing me,” she said the words out loud for the first time, reigning in a pleasurable shudder at the memory. “I would have pushed you off, and if I felt violated, which I didn’t, you would have found yourself on the ground in plenty of pain.”

Damian dragged his gaze back to hers, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “Undoubtedly, yes, you easily could have done so.”

Marinette smirked again, not willing to let the entire debacle slip away quite yet though. “Although I have to ask, where in the world did angel come from? And what on earth made you think it would be a good nickname for our fake relationship?”

Damian lifted his nose haughtily. “It is a perfectly acceptable name of affection for a significant other. What, did you wish for ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’?” he asked, drawing out those names with the earlier casual New Jersian accent. Marinette withheld a shiver at his low tone of voice curling those words around his tongue. She may prefer his normal speech, but damn he still sounded unbearably attractive when he dropped that low.

‘Focus, Marinette. FOCUS!’ she inwardly screamed at herself.

“Goodness no,” said Marinette, forcing a pretend shudder. “Something with more class perhaps? Darling, or beloved?”

Damian pursed his lips. “Not beloved. That’s what my mother refers to my father with.” Marinette winced, yeah, that could be awkward. Not that this whole conversation wasn’t a disaster plucked out of a fever dream. Why, why was she debating Damian on the finer points of affectionate nickname giving?

But her mouth continued talking. “Alright, I suppose angel isn’t bad in comparison. Still, it’s a bit cliché. What does that make you? A demon?”

Damian tilted his head with a shrug. “Tt. My brothers do call me that on occasion, yes.” Oh right, Jason called him demon-spawn a few times during their confrontation. With the way Damian rolled his eyes in annoyance, Marinette figured a story lurked behind that particular nickname.

“Regardless, we have strayed dangerously off-topic here. We should head towards the pandemonium in the atrium, yes?” Damian pushed off the wall he’d leaned against, and Marinette followed.

“I thought it was Panic at the Disco?” Marinette teased with a grin.

Damian pointed a finger at her, trying for a stern expression, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “You think yourself terribly clever, don’t you?”

“I think I’m adorable,” she shot back. “But I also think you’re right. It sounds like Tim managed to involve himself. If he’s making a scene, I bet he’ll draw the rest of your brothers there too.”

“You think Grayson will escape the clutches of that ravenous she-wolf?”

Marinette scoffed. “Damian, you’ll insult wolves with that comparison. I thought she resembled more of a hyena myself.” The woman certainly shrieked enough for it. “From what I saw, your brother probably ducked out at the first opportunity available to him.”

“True. Which leaves Todd, and nothing attracts his attention more than a spectacle. Especially when Drake stands chance to make a fool of himself.” Turning a corner they found themselves several yards away from the open-aired atrium. A crowd of people lingered around the railing looking into the courtyard below. Clapping and cheers fill the air.

“Shall we?” asked Marinette, excitement brewing in her chest.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” grumbled Damian. “But I suppose we must.”

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[missinghan]

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 6

So I'm thinking next chapter will be... a big one.

You cannot know how happy I am to see all your comments and reblogs and messages and general kind words about how this story is making you feel. Love y'all. Keep asking! Keep messaging! I want to talk about this all day lmao.

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Angst, slow-burn, yearning, 18+ language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Next Part Playlist

--------------

Age: 20

“Why did you even ask me out Frankie? Do you even like me?” She was embarrassed, walking towards the door.

“Yes of course, I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.” He tried to walk it back but she was incensed, her cheeks burning bright with anger. She rounded on him when she got to the door, making him step back slightly from her onslaught.

“When you invited me over to meet your friends I didn’t expect to be ignored so you could flirt with her. Get your shit together Frankie, I’m not gonna go out with someone who’s too busy pining over someone else to notice me.” Her eyes were bright with un-shed tears, if she expected some sort of answer or explanation - he had none.

He watched her go.

“Everything okay Francis?” Spills had come looking for him.

“Yes, everything’s good. She had to go.” He had a big smile for her when he turned around.

“Will she be back?” Thankfully she hadn’t heard them.

“I doubt it.” He couldn’t be too sad about it though, not when she looked up at him like that.

——————

**Present Day**

He could still feel her wrapped around him as he walked to the shore. Could feel her moulded to his back, her legs on his waist. He had meant every word he’d said to her, he would gladly stay there with her forever.

“How was the water babe?” Claudia kissed him when he lay on the towel next to her to dry off, wrinkling her nose slightly at the water that trickled from his hair onto her face.

“Beautiful.” His eyes were on Spills, floating in the water. “You should take a dip.”

“No thanks, I’m perfectly happy here. Can you get my back babe?” She smiled up at him but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were trained on the water. “Francisco?” She had to tap him to get his attention. He tore his gaze away to face her.

“Sorry babe, yes of course.”

You can’t keep doing this Francisco. Get your fucking shit together and focus.

“You okay fish?” Pope's voice startled him slightly and when he turned to look at him his expression was serious. “You seem a little… distracted.” His eyes quickly flashed towards Spills floating in the water.

I never should have told him.

“I’m fine.” His voice was clipped, he really didn’t need this right now and he hoped his tone was warning enough. Pope didn’t say anything but he had a feeling he’d hear about this later.

“I wanna ask her out.” Benny had sat down beside Frankie and was staring out at Spills.

“You should! You guys would look cute together, wouldn’t they babe? We could double date or something.” Claudia was happy at the prospect but Frankie's stomach dropped. He felt the anger crawling in his gut, tensing his muscles at the prospect of Benny with her.

This isn’t normal, I shouldn’t feel like this.

“I think you should, Benny.” Pope clapped him on the back. “Fish - I think you should put in a good word for our boy.” It was hard for Frankie not to lash out but why would he? He was engaged and Spills was free. What reason could he possibly have to not want this to happen?

There’s only one reason why, and I can’t fucking help it.

“Yeah of course. I’ll talk to her.” It took everything in him to keep his voice neutral.

“Only ask her out if you’re serious, don’t bother if you’re going to fuck around because that’s his friend, she’s not a random.” Will chimed in, ever the voice of reason and Frankie was thankful.

“I know that.” Benny smiled, and Frankie had to keep quiet.

----

Everything was quiet. Your ears were submerged as you floated peacefully in the water, eyes closed. The ocean always managed to make you feel safe despite its size. Maybe that was what appealed to you, it was so vast and unknowable, you could get lost in it.

You saw the shadow obscure the light despite having your eyes closed. Pope was in the water with you and you smiled at him. Of all the army friends Frankie had introduced you to, Pope was the most mysterious. He guarded his words and you had the sense that he knew way more than he let on.

“Did you have anything planned for the bachelor party yet?” His question dropped a boulder into your stomach.

Fuck, I forgot about that.

“Nope - hadn't even remembered until you said it. I have no idea how the hell to plan one.” Your eyes widened at the thought of it and he laughed, not unkindly.

“I figured, I can help you out. He’s a simple guy - but I'm guessing you already know that. I’m guessing you know much more about him than we do in a lot of respects.” He was smiling at you but there was something underneath his words, a tone you couldn’t discern.

“Probably - known him a long time.” It felt like you were under the microscope.

“Years worth of stuff that Claudia doesn’t even know.” His eyes were burning into you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was gauging your reaction.

“In all likelihood, but she’ll learn eventually I imagine.” Your voice sounded a lot calmer than you felt.

“Obviously no strip clubs, that’s not his thing. Just get all his friends together and get him drunk.” He was watching you closely but your eyes were focused on Frankie, he was laughing and happy - talking animatedly with Will about something and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I can see how much you love him.” Your eyes flashed towards him. “Like a brother, right?” He raised his eyebrows at you and you felt the colour drain from your face.

Am I that fucking obvious?

“Yeah… like a brother.” You were lying, even when you were younger you knew you’d always loved him, but it never felt brotherly. He knew. “See ya.” As much as you wanted to be in the water, you couldn't handle the scrutiny anymore and you made your way back to shore.

---

The rest of the day was spent mostly in your head, you tried to focus on the conversations you had. You tried to focus on the water and the sunshine but it seemed like Pope’s words and his implications followed you.

“You okay Spills? You’ve been distracted all day.” You’d been on the road for almost half an hour and you’d barely said anything.

“Yeah - sorry, just tired. Need a shower.” You smiled at him weakly.

“You sure? Seems like you have something else on your mind.” He glanced over to you and your heart swelled. His curls were defined from the salt water, his face was a little pink from the sun and he looked so warm and soft. You ran your fingers through his hair seemingly without thought. It was so soft and you had to fight the urge to keep touching it.

“I’m okay Francis - gotta plan your bachelor party.” You couldn’t keep the sadness out of your voice, hoping it came across as tired. You were both silent the whole ride home.

--------

You never would have thought it, but you were glad to be back at work. It was the one place that had no memory of Francis. You could come in, completely focus your energy and forget everything for most of the day. In all the time you worked there - you’d never been this productive but with the wedding slowly approaching, the anxiety was slowly creeping in.

Nowhere was safe now.

[unknown contact]: hey Spills! It’s Claudia - I got your number from Frankie. I was hoping you’d be able to come with me tomorrow to the bridal store. We have to make sure you match everyone on the big day!

Really fucking wish you wouldn’t call me that.

[you:] hey Claudia! Uh yeah sure what time?

[claudia😒]: great! Appointment is for 10am - I’ll send you the address, see you then! 🙂

[you]: sounds great - see you then!

Well that’s just great.

It had been a week since the beach trip and the peace couldn’t last.

—-

There was something about Claudia that got under your skin.

She’s marrying the love of your life, obviously she gets under your skin.

She was friendly enough, and she loved Francis - you could see that in her excitement; but there was something underneath. You got a sense that she was trying to pull a fast one on him.

“Spills, if Frankie and I move, would you come visit us? I think you’re holding him back a little bit.” She was standing as they made adjustments on the dress which thankfully had made it in time to be altered.

“What? What do you mean?” Where was this question coming from?

“Well, he wants to stay here. He wants to live close to his mom and you, but I’m trying to convince him to live back home with me. Maybe if you told him it would be okay and that you’d visit he’d give in.” Your blood was boiling. Give in? His wants and needs had to mean more to her than that?

I have to calm down, I’m overreacting.

“He already told you he doesn’t want to leave? Maybe you guys should compromise? Middle-ground?” You had to put your diplomatic hat on, couldn’t just tear into this girl. The logical part of your brain told you that this was normal - couples disagree about things all the time and it made sense that she’d want to be close to her family and her home.

“Yes he’s set in his ways. It’s frustrating.” She laughed lightly. “I just think that if you gave him your blessing he’d be more open to leaving with me.”

But you don’t have my blessing, I’m the wrong person to come to with this.

“I really think you should talk to him about this - he’s never been the kind of guy to be swayed. Won’t matter what I say.” You were being honest as well as telling her it wasn’t your problem in a roundabout way. She didn’t say anything else and you could tell she wasn’t happy with your answer. You left it alone.

---

You couldn’t put it off any more, as much as you were dreading this wedding you still had responsibilities as his best-person. You had to get everything together and throw this stupid fucking bachelor party.

You messaged all of the friends you knew he kept in touch with, telling them about the outing. They had things planned the whole week up until the wedding so it had to be the Friday before the wedding. Which means you had little less than a week to get it together.

[you]: Hey Francis - can you give me Popes number? Trying to plan your party!

[Francis]: Sure - sending it now. Hopefully it’s nothing too crazy?

[you]: Shit… you mean you don’t want your own parade? Should I cancel the army of exotic dancers?

[Francis]: You’re hilarious, honestly.

[you]: just taking you to a bar you fool, just want to coordinate with him because I don’t have everyone's contact info.

[Francis]: Sounds good, thanks for this - I never got a chance to ask but how did it go at the bridal store?

[you]: Went well

You thought about everything Claudia had said and debated on telling him. Would he want you to? Would she want you to? Somehow you didn’t think she’d be too happy unless you were on her side. Which you decidedly weren’t.

[you]: Think you should talk to her, she’s not happy with you wanting to stay here, after the wedding I mean. I support you whatever you decide but she seemed to think that you needed my blessing in order to leave with her. I told her she needed to talk to you - and I’m telling you the same thing.

Being honest and supportive was the best course of action and you hoped that neither of them (him more so than her) would be upset with how you went about it.

It worried you though when he didn’t answer and you had to trust that they would both understand that you didn’t actually want to influence anyones decision.

Liar, I want him to stay. Even if it’s not with me. I want him to stay.

You pushed the thought away and messaged Pope, the both of you came together and planned a dinner for everyone on the Friday before the wedding, which would turn into the bachelor party after. In five days, he’d be married and if Claudia got her way - far far away from you.

------

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[vannybarber]

Put Some Respect On My Name!

Summary: As a wife and a mother to the kids of this asshole, respect is the one thing you better be recieving from him...after some good 🍆 of course. That's number one right there.😏

Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

BIG ASS PLOT

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Pregnant¡Reader, swearing, insults, angst, mentions of cheating, SMUT, breeding kink, spanking, oral (female receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of religion, threats of violence (nothing extreme).

So here your are. Sitting on you and Ransom's shared California King bed looking at his friend, Derek's Instagram story, disappointed and angry. But mostly angry. Some nasty ass trick is sitting on your baby daddy's lap. Her loppy floppy tits out with a drink in hand and him drinking a Moscato, the one beverage he loved to order everytime he went out.

Last year for New Year's, you had to stop him from ordering more or else you were going to be cleaning him up after puking everywhere at midnight instead of getting a kiss to start off another year.

Your two year old daughter was in her playroom across the hall making a mess with her toys. Usually you'd be down there playing with her but your swollen stomach done prohibited you from doing a lot of things now. But it most definitely ain't stop you from getting what you want from Ransom every day and night. Nothing could ever stop you guys from getting yo freak on. Nothing.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale is most definitely an asshole and you're not gonna sit here and lie, acting like he completely changed when you guys came together. That boy still has his moments, but of course, it would be a chilly ass day in hell before you sit there and take his bullshit. He been learned that.

At this point ,you were thinking of ways to get on his ass about it when he comes home. Should you get the bat and wait at the door on some Beyonce shit ? Or put some bleach in his Fruit Loops like Cardi the next day ? Those sounded a lot better than what you decided to do. You were gonna wait till he got back home and calmly confront him on it, regardless of what your hormones wanted. 6 months pregnant and anger do not go together. You're WAAAAY more vulnerable and bound to do anything now. So you just watch your daughter brush her baby doll, hitting her on the head cause she won't sit still, rubbing your bump and wait for him to come home.

You hear shuffling downstairs and keys hitting the bowl by the front door. His big head home now and you're beyond ready.

You check the time and it's 2:46 am. You been put your child to sleep hours ago. You were just watching Wild N' Out to pass the time, thinking of how you were gonna start off without making yourself even more mad. The baby nor you need any of that. You were internally praying he was gonna get his ass over here soon cause your ass knocked out for a little bit. You were sleepy as hell right now.

Hearing those expensive ass Chelsea boots hit the sleek stairs and up to the second floor, you woke the fuck up real quick. You stay quiet and watch him walk in your daughters room and check on her. You can see with the nightlight him smile and rub her brown cheek with the back of his forefinger, whispering inaudible words to her. Fuck him and his adorable ass.

He bends back up straight and walks out her room closing the door a little and make his way across the hall to your room. He sees you and your pregnant state in your white tube top and grey booty shorts. Simple yet the baddest bitch he's ever laid eyes on and ever will. He smiles while locking eyes with you and all you do is narrow yours back at him getting upset all over again, regardless of the sweet previous moment shared with your baby girl.

He gives you a 'what the hell ?' look and comes over to give you a kiss but you jerk your head back with the stank face and a 'boy move out my face' quietly leaving your mouth. Now he's REALLY confused.

"Mama, what's wrong with you?"

You look at him like he just asked you to get on your knees and bark like a dog.

"What's wrong with me? You really asking that?" raising your voice on the second question.

Technically, he has the right to ask, being that he doesn't know what you know. He probably doesn't even know that Derek was recording him and that broad. Nor does he know that you texted Derek to keep recording him so you know nothing escalates.

Call it what you want, but you know how your man is. He's immature and irresponsible as HELL. If something had popped off that really threatened y'all's relationship, you would've been in that bar with your child on your right hip, earphones in her ear and tablet in hand, cussing him and that girl out.

"You wanna tell me how your night went?" You tilt your head asking sweetly, with a drop of sarcasm. You truly are a petty ass piece of work. And you love it.

"Just get to the point Y/N. The fuck did I do this time ?" At this point he's now visibly annoyed. But you ain't care. This situation is on his part. Y'all could've had a nice night, fucking while Big City Greens playing in the background on the T.V. eventually waking your child up cause you loud as hell, but nooooo. That ain't happening now.

You grab your phone and open back up Instagram, Marta popping up on your feed with Harlan reading a book. You like it and search up Derek's @ then click his story. You flip through countless tabs until you see the man-child standing in front of you, on the screen. You motion him over to the bed.

"Come here, asswipe."

He rolls his eyes, but moves them feets anyway. You turn your phone to him and let the video play. You watched it about a thousand times so you know exactly when it ends. After it does you pull the phone back in your lap and give him a questioning look.

Sometimes it's hard to read his expressions and this was one. It was a mix of slight guilt and double the annoyance. He backs up and stands back at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

"Really? This why you're upset?"

You swear you almost slapped him. And this time you couldn't blame the hormones because it was gonna be ALL YOU. You take a deep breath and lean your back against the cushion headboard.

"I KNOW you did not just ask me that as if I ain't supposed to be bothered by the fact that my husband got some random woman on his lap while I'm at home with his daughter and his growing child."

You deadass don't believe him right now. He really pressing you as if he don't know how you get when you're angry, especially while pregnant.

"My feet hurt. I am TIRED. I can't even move for more than 5 minutes without getting sick and having to sit down. The you come at me with this bullshit" you continue. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

He just deadpans you. And you stare at his ass right back. You not playing right now.

"Y/N, you never get upset when I go out with my buddies and get hammered." He's flapping his arms around raising his voice at every word.

"What is the big deal now? It's fucking late and you're doing all this right now. What the hell?"

You gather the strength and get out the bed to close the bedroom door cause you about to go AWF.

Getting back on the bed fully sitting up and supporting your own weight, you tie your butterfly braids up in ponytail.

"Listen, you raggedy shitball,"

It's about to go down. You adjust yourself, ready to release the wrath.

"I don't give a damn how late it is. You know better than to go out and let some bitch get close up on you like that. Were you even thinking about me or your kids while she was on you? The fuck was going through your mind? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't fucking think. You have to actually have a damn brain."

"Raggedy shitball? Real mature, babe. Real fucking mature." He says rolling his eyes, finally getting his shoes off and putting them under the chair were his scarf and coat are draped over.

You continue with your rant.

"Ironic for you to comment on maturity, Hugh."

Yep, that's right. You said it. You called him by his ugly ass first name. Linda and Richard must've been out they damn mind naming him that shit. He whipped his head around, any sense of expression just completely wiping from his face. Perfect. Just the reaction you wanted.

"Don't call me that." He stated, pure disgust in his words. To be honest, you don't even blame him. But like stated before, you petty as hell.

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. Your name is fucking Hugh" you say in a sing songy voice. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now. And back to what I said before. Why you let that girl in your lap like that ?"

"It was completely harmless. We were just having fun. Like you said before, you aren't a jealous person. Stuff like that shouldn't even be affecting you like this." He gets on the bed beside you and your face tore back up again. He's really getting in this fucking bed beside you like nothing.

But he was right though. You aren't a jealous person. A girl can come up to him at a party and flirt right in your face, but you'd never be bothered. Cause at the end of the day, her ass is getting rejected and he's gonna be inside you later the same night. He's yours and you're his. Simple.

"Ransom, just because I'm not a jealous person doesn't mean I'm gonna keep my mouth if our relationship is threatened." This man is actually delusional.

"You never entertain other girls when I'm around and here you are with a girl on your lap and I'm not there to say or do nothing. And you know your shitty friends will just encourage it. "

At this point, you started to get really insecure. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just your logic. But your mind started racing like NASCAR. What really happens when he's out and you're at home? He wouldn't put your marriage and family at risk over a bitch...right? He hasn't cheated on you, has he? These thoughts really weren't good for your right now.

But he must've read your expressions. You were zoned out and he knows you're an over thinker so he had to stop you real quick. He puts his large left hand over your thigh, rubbing it and his right around your ass, leaning his head against your arm, trying to get you to chill. It almost worked, him knowing you liked your thighs rubbed, especially in your state.

But you caught that shit right away. You moved out of his hold and turn your body completely towards him. And then you ask him.

"Have you ever cheated on me?"

He freezes, you swear for at least 2.4 milliseconds and whips his head around to look at you. You turn your head away, somewhat regretting you even asked. You know this fucker loved you and your family with everything. He even said in his vows he would give his all into you. And you believed him. But fuck that right now. You need to know.

"Are you GODDAMN serious right now?!"

Okay, you paused for two things; he used God's name in vain, which you HATED, due to you growing up religious. Even though you don't practice it very often, it still bothered you. And two, he yelled, completely disregarding the fact that your kid is across the hall sleeping.

You snap your head around, braids hitting your face with super saiyan speed and kick him in his hip.

"What the shit, Y/N?"

"First of all, you know how I feel about that fucking word. STOP USING IT. And two, your daughter is sleeping so you need to keep your damn voice down!"

He's rubbing his side with a distorted look, but you could care less. You were fed up. This imbecile wasn't showing you any respect and your weren't gonna wait for him to get it right.

"How the hell would you feel if I went out, sat on some random dude's lap and entertained him while you were at home with our kid? Matter a fact, I'll do one even better. How about while I'm PREGNANT with YOUR baby, that YOU put in me, I sit on him and letting him rub my belly?"

Ransom has a big ass breeding kink. When you told him you were pregnant he was ecstatic. The though of him knocking you up, his seed growing inside of you just gave him pure ecstacy. And don't even get started on when your bump started to form. He was fucking every chance he got. He was in a theme park and you were his favorite ride.

You know you were playing with fire, but that shit felt AMAZING. He was really feeling how you were feeling right now. Them veins were popping out his neck and his face was slightly turning red. Baby boy was LIVID.

"Y/N, cut that shit out. I'm not doing this with your ass tonight." He looked at you with these eyes you've only seen when his family pissed him off at those gatherings he dragged both of you to. Before you had your first child of course. You went to them less after your daughter's birth because he didn't want her around his shitty family. You completely understood.

"Nah, baby boy. Since you want to be so inconsiderate and a triple asshole tonight, you can lay here by yourself and bathe in it." You got your big ass out the bed after minutes of struggling. Grabbing your black Betty Boop pillow with her cute afro, your charger, phone and your Hot Cheetos out the night stand and slipped on your slides, you waddle across the room, heading into the guest bedroom.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, especially since he refuses to admit he's in the wrong. If you stay in there, you're just going to get even more frustrated and you don't want to harm your baby.

"Y/N, baby. What are you doing? Come back in here" he called you from the bedroom.

You shut the door and lock it. You'll be damned if you're gonna come running back cause he aSkEd you to. You settle in the bed, plug your phone up, grab your chips and turn When They See Us on the T.V.

Ransom just lays back on the bed in defeat. He didn't even make an effort to get you back in the room because you're stubborn as a mule. But he takes this time to go over what just happened.

He truly didn't think you would make a big deal. Like you said before, you're not a jealous person, so he didn't think he'd have to worry. Boy, was he all the way wrong. And you did have a point about you entertaining another man. That had his blood boiling. He gets at most irritated when you come with him to events, like the Oakley Country Club in Watertown and you're everyone's distraction.

It was your first appearance with him there and you being a sight to see, had all eyes on you and your body. Hell, even the women were checking you out, no envy or jealousy in sight. He knew then, he was gonna keep you close. You don't remember ever leaving his side that evening. He even volunteered to go into the bathroom with you. He didn't want to take a chance with the females either.

But in all seriousness, he couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Especially now that you're married and have two kids together. But he really couldn't believe that you'd even suggest that he had been unfaithful to you. Your reasons were plausible, yes, but he was honestly...hurt. He knows what kind of guy he is comes off as, but he'd never intentionally ruin what you guys have built. You were the only one he truly let close.

He knew what he had to do, even though he dreaded it. He had to go apologize. He hates when you're upset with him. Absolutely hates it. Plus you were looking sexy as hell tonight and he need some of that round brown ASAP, no rocky.

Ransom got up and opened the door, making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom, but not before checking his baby's room. She was still fast asleep, little snores leaving her body. Exiting her room, he knew your door would be locked but tried to open it anyway. When it didn't budge, he knocked a couple of times. But you was knocked out.

Then he remembered. Lifting his hand to the top of the door frame, he searched for the thin key that unlocked the bedroom doors. Once he felt it, he grabbed it and inserted it in the door knob. Click. He pushed the door open and looked around to see the T.V. screen on, but paused, and you lying on your side with the Cheeto bag still open like a damn fool.

He shut the door quietly and made his way around the bed. He closed the loud ass bag, which caused you to stir and reposition your legs. He set the bag on the nightstand and crawled into the bed with you. He stared at you for a moment. Looking at your full lips and your wide nose.

Your afrocentric features were always so mesmerizing to him because they were different from all the other women. They were unique and he understood why you took so much pride in them. You had the damn right, especially looking that good. You were never afraid to embrace them. No person of color should ever be afraid to. Ever.

After what felt like an hour of weird ass staring, Ransom started to shake your arm, trying to wake you. You're a heavy ass sleeper, so it took him a while. You opened your eyes, squinting trying to figure what the fuck just woke your ass up. Feeling a dip in the bed and a presence next to you, Ransom comes into sight.

Even though this man is finer than a MOTHERFUCKER, you still turned your nose up when you looked at him. Your ass was still mad and it was ridiculous. Understandable, but ridiculous as hell. You could only imagine what he wanted now. You roll your eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still pissed at me and whatever, but I just came in here to.... apologize."

He averted his gaze to the T.V. You know how difficult it is for your baby to apologize for anything because even though he clearly in the wrong, he will never ever accept it nor admit it. And damn sure never apologize.

"I realize how you felt when you saw that video", he continued. "I would be even more pissed if you were the one in someone else's lap and I couldn't kick their ass as soon as I saw it."

You chuckled a little bit because it's true. He would be angry as shit. Although, you'd never be in that position because you love and respect him too much. But you let him finish before you spoke.

"With that being said, I'm sorry for my actions. Believe it or not, I'm still getting adjusted to being a husband and a father. I'm still struggling to give up my old habits and the shit I'm so used to doing. It's not easy, baby."

You grab is strong jaw and make him face you. He hasn't made eye contact with you this entire time. You almost felt bad, but he needed to understand. Understand where you were coming from and understand how it made you feel.

"Ransom, I'm not asking you to completely change who you are. I just want to know that you're in this for good. Because you can't turn back now. We've come too damn far. And I'll be damned if you decide to give up your responsibilities. Your ass gon' be grass."

He smiled a teeny bit, because what can you say? You're a natural born comedian. You can turn any situation in to some funny ass shit. But you get back to your point.

"I want you to be able to go out and have fun, but also come back and be a husband and a father. I value my independence just as much as you, so I get it. Just remember what you have. Don't fuck it up for some pussy, alright? That's all I'm saying."

You look him in his sea blue eyes. Damn, them thangs are hypnotic as hell. But you search for something that tells you he understands. That's all you fucking want. Him to understand. But you definitely got your answer.

Just as you were about to ask him, he shoots his face towards you and attacks your mouth like a damn wild ass pig. You were thrown all the way off, but you checked back into reality and kissed him back. You guys had this amazing ass way of getting in sync when you kissed. No matter who initiates it, you flow amazingly.

After a few mintues of saliva attack, you pull away tryna breathe cause he was about to take all your fucking oxygen. He laughs at the look on your face. You end up cracking up too. You can't help it. And he knows it.

"I completely understand, mama. I've definitely taken this into consideration. I learned my lesson." He smiles down at you. Internally you're proud as fuck because it's like you raised a bad ass kid into a well behaved one. The power your ass holds is amazing.

Then you look at the door trying to figure out how the hell he got in the room. "The key." You nod in realization. He rubs your thigh again, and this time, you don't stop him. Instead he stops himself. You look at him confused as fuck.

"But I'm gonna let you sleep in here, since you seem to be so cozy." He was messing with you. Fuck him. He gets up off the bed and head towards the door, but not before looking back to catch your reaction. You had a 'get your ass back over here' look on your face. But he just smirked. That signature smirk.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He really out here testing you right now. The balls on this motherfucker...

"Ransom, get your ass over here and give me what I want." You look down at his crotch, imagining him without his wool Reiss pants. He follows your eyes, still holding that smirk, but not forgetting to widen it. You lusting after his fLeSh turned him on bad. And it felt so good.

You already know you're to hard to resist. Everyone loves chocolate. Even Ransom's lactose intolerant ass.

You start to rub your belly, purposely drawing his attention, really making him turned on for you. You can feel that that tropical rain storm in your Fenty underwear.

And that boy was ready to start swimming. He expediTiously got back on the bed and in between your legs. You give him that look and that's all he needed. Connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect sync like always, he starts rubbing up and down the side of your full belly.

"So fucking perfect and all of it's for me."

You pause.

"And who said all of this was for you, Mr. Drysdale?"

Not amused by your comment, he slaps your ass louder than a bitch and you shut your ass up real quick. Not before letting out a little giggle though.

He lifts your heavy ass and pulls the tube top over your head, letting your swole breasteses fall into position. Your areolas widened since having your daughter and Ransom LIVED for it. You were definitely enjoying them massages and those lips treatments he gave you when they were sore, just like now.

He starts kneading the left breast and continues to make out with your face like an animal. His left arm is holding your ass up. He eventually lays you back down, knowing damn well his ass is tired of holding you. You ain't blaming him either.

He hooks his lips on the nipple of the same breast, twirling his deadly tongue all around it. You moan with your head thrown back cause it feels good as hell. He lets go and replaces his mouth with his hands and twirls the nipple with his mouth on the other.

All you could do was mumble cuss words and grab his hair. He was really fucking you up and the real fucking didn't even start yet.

Trailing kisses all the way down your beautiful bump, down all the stretch marks till he reaches your shorts. He wasted no time getting them off and disposing them on the clean floor. Whatever he throw on the floor HE'S picking that shit up, not you. You'll make sure of that.

He looks directly at your covered pussy with excitement in his eyes. More excited than you were, if that's even possible. He takes his thick index finger and rubs you through your panties, completely soaking them. You just watch him, lust dialating your pupils.

He yanks them off, almost taking you off the damn bed at the same time, so you had to re-adjust yourself. He spreads your legs on their sides of his wide shoulders and licks from your core to the hood that covered your clit. You jerked a little cause you were in your second trimester, the horny trimester. You were 🌃 sensitive 🌃.

Then his annoying ass starts lapping in circles in super saiyan speed. You cry out and grab your left breast, squeezing and rubbing it. He stretches his left hand out and takes the right one, doing the same thing. Your back was continuously arching. You know your baby was fed up.

After a couple of more laps, your body finally can't take anymore and you cum all over his mouth. He has the audacity to keep going, even when your clit is hypersensitive, making you literally whimper, so you have to slap his head to get him to stop.

He pulls away with that stupid famous smirk.

"All that shit you're always talking, but you couldn't take a little sensitivity?" He teases you. But that's alright, cause you gon' remember that next time you're on your knees for him. When he comes, you not taking your mouth off him until you feel like it.

"Just fuck me already before I change my mind." You don't know why you even said that shit. He can tease you all you want. You'll never not have your legs or mouth open, ready for him to stick his dick wherever he feels.

He just chuckles, cause he knows that too.

Taking your body, he flips you on your left side and settles behind you, dick right against your ass. Its one of your favorite positions because he could hit your sweet spot perfectly this way. And he could rub your bump at the same time. Beneficial for the both of your greedy asses.

He was taking way to long so you grab his dick and line it up with your pussy and push the tip in slowly, playing with your own arousal. Ransom just watched. He loved seeing you desperate for his stupid ass, but you gave zero fucks at the moment.

Finally you slip his huge ass girth inside you and you moan out loud as hell. You really just be turned on by anything at this point. He then takes back the lead and pushes further till he bottoms out inside you. He's heavily breathing his hot ass breath on your neck like a weirdo, but fuck it.

Once both of you are adjusted, he starts moving in and out of you. The position made your walls hella tighter and he was already hitting your spot. His tight arm is wrapped around your stomach now. You constantly moan his name and he's just encouraging it.

"Ransom, fuck, baby just like that"

"You love when I fuck you like this, don't you pretty girl?"

You hated when he called you "pretty girl, sweet girl, or good girl" because you become a straight whore for him right away. He's such an asshole.

"Yes, Daddy- please don't stop"

"Tell me how bad you want it baby"

There he go with these fucking games. Always wanting to hear you beg.

"I want it so bad, Daddy ! pleASe give it to mE"

Happy Ransom?

He starts to pick up the pace and you feel the pleasure in your toes. It just travel from there all around your body and you can't say anything but "don't stop" and moan uncontrollably.

You start getting close and he can tell by the way you pick up the moans. So he starts going faster. But never forgetting to add a little nasty dialogue.

"I can feel you ready to come sweet girl. Keep clenching around me baby" That shit just made you even more whore-knee. If you weren't already pregnant, he was definitely gonna put a baby in you that night.

"Baby I'm close- fill me up Ransom please "

You're begging for this man to cum inside you, but he always wanna play a damn game.

"Hmmm do you truly deserve to cum baby? I don't know if you do.."

You wanted to hit him so bad, but he wouldn't let you come if you did. So you go along with it.

"Yes Daddy I'll do anything- Please just let me cum !" You screamed.

At this point you were loud as 🌃fuck🌃 .

After more begging he finally let you come.

"Oh shit Ransom- FUCK" You come all over his dick and shortly after, he came right behind you. Filling you up just like you wanted. He slumped against your back and you lowered your shaky leg.

"You always take me so well baby girl." He starts kissing your neck. You could literally hear that loppy ass smile he has on his face everytime y'all get done. But you get all tingly inside because you love when he praises you. Makes you feel proud of yourself.

"Well there's not much to take so...it's whatever." What are you without a teasing remark after every other sentence? But he always has a clapback.

"Its funny you say that because the other day you were practically in tears because my dick was "too much for one woman to take" and that I was practically torturing you." At this point you're turned over facing him grinning like a Cheshire cat and him smiling right back at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up, with your annoying ass." You snap back at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You love me, my chocolate bunny." He let's out an audible yelp when you kick him in his leg. You hate when he calls you that. "Cut it out Ransom, or you're not touching me for a week."

There you go again saying the dumb shit. You both know that YOU could never go through with that.

"Fine by me", he states unphased. Cause he knows you could never.

You roll your eyes for the 50thousanth time.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

"I love you too pretty girl" he winks.

Just as you were about to get up, you hear something jiggle the doorknob and someone huffing and puffing outside the door. That little girl over here jumping up and down tryna to open the damn door. You're literally hollering at her struggle. Truly sick in the fucking head.

"Mama! Where Papa ?" Ransom grins as he throws you his blue sweater so you can cover up and gets up to let your baby girl in.

You truly cannot stand this guy.

This all came to me so fast 😭 I hope y'all like it lmaoo

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

Loki’s Line About Betraying Everyone

I need to talk about this line (spoiler: I’m not happy about it). I was going to just include this in the full episode response post I’m working on, but it got long enough that I decided to make it its own.

First of all, here’s the full quote: "I betrayed everyone who ever loved me. I betrayed my father, my brother, my home. I know what I did. And I know why I did it. And that's not who I am anymore."

Y'all, I'm less emotional about it now but this line fucked me up when I first heard it. It hit me like a ton of bricks while watching the episode for the first time because I was actually doing fine and wasn't significantly bothered by anything up until that point, and then came that line and I suddenly almost felt physically ill. I actually wrote up a post about it that night but never posted it because it was essentially just a lot of screaming, so I've now taken pieces of that and formed a hopefully more coherent post (though it still contains a good amount of screaming). So, I get that the idea that Loki’s betrayed Thor over and over is a Commonly Accepted Thing. It's really a lot more complicated than that, and there are a lot of gray areas involved, but fine, I'll give them that one. But - when did Loki betray his father? When did Loki betray his home?? I’m not just mad about it, this is...a legitimate question. I mean with the father thing, I guess the only thing could be the nursing home in Ragnarok/taking the throne from him? Which is irrelevant anyway because this Loki didn’t do that and doesn't even know it happened in the main timeline?? And besides, it PALES, like, hilariously, in comparison to any one of multiple things Odin did to him before that (not counting any fanon here - just the canon things that we know of!) I am just so confused, especially about the betraying Asgard thing. WHEN? LITERALLY WHEN? Guys, there is no film in which that took place.

If I trusted the narrative, I would say the most logical thing to conclude - at least about the betraying Asgard part - is that this is a setup for Loki to later realize he actually saved Asgard by causing Ragnarok (because that's the closest thing I can think of to "betraying his home"), which could even tie into something about, idk, helping him realize he’s capable of being a hero? (or something) and it would be a good follow-up to the moment he found out about Ragnarok in episode 2, but...fuck, the way these lines were framed it really doesn't feel like anything like that is going to happen. I could be wrong, but these just didn't strike me as lines that are at any point going to be contradicted or even revisited.

And moving onto another part of the quote - "I know why I did it." Uh, I guess good for Loki for apparently knowing that...but the audience sure doesn't?? This is something we're just now being told and have not been shown at all?? I have a feeling Loki thinks he knows why but it unfortunately doesn't have anything to do with some of the biggest actual reasons, which are the abuses done to him that helped make him who he is. Even more unfortunately, I also have a feeling the creators are on roughly the same page as Loki here. So yeah, that's a real shame.

The core problem here seems to be where the writers are coming from, and @iamanartichoke worded it really well here, so I’m just going to quote her: “either the writing is being lazy by oversimplifying Loki’s motives, or it’s being deliberately misleading in order to retcon the character, or the writers genuinely believe that’s what happened, which implies a misunderstanding of Loki’s character kinda from the get-go - at least on what drives his villainy and what fuels his anger, which are pretty significant things.” I do think there’s a slight chance they were using Loki as an unreliable narrator here and the audience was supposed to pick up on the subtext (more on that at the end of this post), but I doubt it, and I think it’s very likely one or more of the options listed in the quote. 

Honestly, I can explain Loki's line about betrayal (and his general lack of acknowledgement of his own trauma/legit grievances against his family) pretty easily in-universe. It makes sense that Loki himself would frame things as him betraying everyone who's ever loved him as if they never did anything to wrong him first, or that he would try to ignore what Thanos did to him in favor of putting all the blame on himself (coping with his trauma and loss of control by denying it). Or hell, maybe he would even straight up subconsciously invent a betrayal that never even happened, like the one about his home. I can totally understand Loki seeing the events of his life that way! That all lines up with his complete lack of self-worth, and to have him 1) recognize his mistakes and take responsibility for them (which has happened at this point in the show), but then progress on to 2) realize he isn't solely to blame for literally everything, and 3) recognize the role of his family and others in understanding why he is the way he is - that would be a very satisfying arc and is the natural direction that the story should take in episode 6. The problem is, I don't think the show is going that way. I think we're either supposed to take it at face value that Loki did in fact betray everybody who ever loved him (as if Loki is a reliable narrator when he's most certainly an unreliable one), or the audience is supposed to figure out that Loki's an unreliable narrator here - but the latter won't work, because the creators have to follow through on that subtext at some point and actually do something to indicate that what Loki said wasn't 100% true, and it doesn't feel like they're going to. You can't expect your audience to put any weight on subtext or even pick up on it in the first place if you never actually confirm anything, and your audience won't know your narrator is unreliable unless you tell them. If Loki being an unreliable narrator in that specific moment was their intention, only a small subset of fans are going to pick up on it. So the way they're framing it so far, the audience is simply going to see it the same way Loki does and not realize it's incorrect. 

Unfortunately, as stated earlier, I think the most likely explanation is that the writers either don’t understand Loki, are being lazy, or are deliberately retconning. So while I take a degree of comfort in the in-universe explanation, it’s pretty damn infuriating to consider where the writer’s minds were probably at in reality, and how this set of lines is presenting Loki to the casual audience. 

Tagging @iamanartichoke and @delyth88 if you guys have any thoughts?

[spencerhotchner]

Alternative {spencer reid}

Chapter 2

summary: Since quarentine was announced, Y/N decided to rewatch all seasons of Criminal Minds. On a lonely night she wished she could be in that universe instead of this. What happens when she wakes up in 2008 in Quantico?

warnings: angst, a very confused reader, regular cm stuff and my grammar (if you find anything else pls lmk) 

word count: 2.1k

a/n: ok, i am really excited about this series. and really thankful that y'all are liking it. also, i hope you will enjoy this chapter as much as y'all did the last one! it didn't end up as long as i wanted it it but ig its ok right.

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2

You could hear some familiar voices on the background as you began to regain conciseness, voices you could identify anywhere. You kept your eye shut for a while, feeling the tiredness and dizziness your body was screaming at you despite the fact that you have been unconscious, and on the floor apparently. Even though you're head was still too slow to think straight, you noticed that your face mask wasn't on you anymore. 

“Who is she?” you heard the familiar voice of Shamar, or Morgan, given the circumstances. 

“Apparently she knows me.” that was Spencer’s turn to speak. 

“I met her this morning.” JJ states, you could only imagine the faces they would be making at her, wondering how and why. “I bumped into her walking on the street, she seemed pretty confused but yet she still knew who I was.” 

“Well, that’s weird.” Emily said.

When you finally decided to open them, you felt like you were still dream. Once again you found yourself asking what was going on. Why was the whole cast of Criminal Minds standing there simple staring at you and why were they acting like their characters? Out of the two explanations that came to your mind at the moment, only one made any sense. I was a tv prank, it could only be. There would be no other logical reason to it, other wise. 

“Are you ok?” Hotch asks, offering a hand. 

You stared at him trying to figure out what to say, but without saying a word you took his hands and got up. The whole team was looking at you, with weird expressions. You felt almost like you were an unsub, you hated being stared. 

“Yes, I mean, no!” you say. “Is this a prank of something? Because, damn, you guys went too far down with it. Fuck!” you say, finally snapping. 

“I’m afraid I don't know what you are talking about.” Rossi said. 

You tried not to but as soon as you realized you already had a big sarcastic expression on your face. How wouldn't they? They were tv stars and they were clearly acting, you've seen it. 

“Oh, you're not?” you said, as sarcastic as you could be. “Ok, let me enlighten you all, since you ‘don’t know what i’m talking about?’. I woke up in this freaking random apartment by myself wearing the exact same thing I was wearing the night before.” 

“...and where is the part we fit in there?” he replies. 

You ignored him, sighing and trying to push your anxiety down. 

“As I was saying, I was wearing the exact same thing and I was in Bellevue, in Washington state. I have no idea who decided to pull this off but as much as I love the show, I am not enjoying this.” you say, looking around trying to find cameras. 

They all kept staring at you, Rossi was the only one who didn't seem worried about, it was like he thought you were on drugs or just delusional. You were even starting to believe in that. JJ and Spencer kept staring at each other, possibly trying to figure out what was going on, and how you knew them. 

“You believe you were abducted, then?” Hotch finally says something. 

You sigh again, trying to be patience. All you wanted was to go home, when you said you wanted to meet the cast - all the hundreds of times you said it, you didn’t mean this. You closed your eyes, because suddenly all you wanted to do was cry. You couldn't count how many times you imagined this happening and it was being just awful. You hated being confused, lost and being pictured as crazy. 

“No, Agent Hotchner” you spilled his name, sarcastically. “I am sure.”

He looked at you without much expression - as usual, but you could tell he was superseded you knew him, just as much as the team. Morgan step forward, walking towards you. You stared at him, trying to remain calm. 

“Listen, we can't help you if you don't let us.” he said. “Can you tell us your name?”

God, don't they realize this is funny? I do not wanna be acting, some pictures would do the job just as fine. 

“Y/N Y/L/N” you say as you watch Rossi give Garcia a look making her nod and direct herself to her ‘cave’, certainly to search you up. 

“Alright, you have someone we can contact with?” JJ asks. 

You nodded, yes you did. But they wouldn't pick up the phone, as you tried multiple times this morning on the old cellphone. What if something happened to them? This was all so confusing. 

“But she won’t pick up the phone, I tried.” you said.

Once again, you caught yourself wondering what was going on. And that was the moment you kind of got what was happening. Would it be possible that you shifted to this universe? Maybe this wasn't all a prank and your wish had just became true. You probably should've thought about it before asking for it. At once it hit you, what you said to your friend just last night. 

“What is something you would want to do right now?” your best friend asked you, leaning a bit towards you, laughing drunkly.

“Um, I’d really like to be in Criminal Minds right now.” you say laughing as you best friend rolled her eyes. “No, listen! I’d love to meet Spencer Reid and I don't know, it just sounds better than quarantine.”

“Yeah, sure, because serial killers are just not bad at all, huh?” she laughed. 

Maybe this was true, maybe you did shifted. And if you did, you sure sounded like a crazy person, and probably a stalker. You looked around trying to figure out if you could sit somewhere, it all became took much for you mind at that moment. 

“Can I sit... Can I sit somewhere?” you asked, probably looking as ill as you sounded.

You watched as Reid rushed to bring the chair. You set down trying to figure out how you'd leave there, and how you'd shift back. Staring at them you felt your heart warm a little, you dreamed about this for so long - as it was all it was, a dream, until now, at least. 

Before you could say a word you watched Penelope come back and whisper in Rossi’s ear, probably what she found out about you. Which, maybe was everything, since you had no reasons to hide a thing about your life, which was quite boring, in fact. 

“Who are you?” Rossi says, like he’s ready to arrest you.

“I-I already told you.” you answer. “I’m Y/N.”

If you needed any proof about what was going on that was it. It was like you did not even exist, like you weren't real. She probably didn’t find anything because you’re not from this universe.

“Alright. What can we do for you, Y/N?” Morgan asks.

“I need to go home.” you let it out. “I don't know how I ended up here in Quantico.”

Garcia stares ate you, almost like she felt pity about your situation while the rest of them kept a suspicious look at you. It’s not like you blame them, anyways, you would think it’s weird for somebody to come out of nowhere knowing your name and claiming to be pranked. 

While you were sitting there, with all those eyes at you, you thought that maybe giving up and trying to figure it all out by yourself maybe would be better. How would they help you, anyways? It is not like they could send you back. And it is also not like you didn't actually wish for this. 

There are some wishes that are entirely rhetorical. 

“You know what? I’m good.” you fake a smile, obviously. “I’m just gonna go.” 

You stoop up fast, not giving them much time to contest you. Spencer looked confused, more than any of the others, for some reason. Maybe he was just curious on how you knew him, or JJ. Either way, you wouldn't know. 

Hotch looked at you, wondering your action. Why were you so desperate at one time and tried to pull off as if it was ok? It was definitely not ok. Your smile looked fake, your body seemed tense and your eyes looked as lost as he could think someone could be, as he has seen a lot of lost eyes. 

“Thank you, for your attention, though.�� you say. “I’m sorry for taking your time agents.” 

You stormed out of there, not even realizing that you left your jacket in there. How could you? Not when you ran out of there as if your live depended on it. You let a sigh out as you got out of the building, not even noticing when the tears started to come down at your cheeks. 

At that moment you didn't care at all about where you were, you set on the floor, letting the tears roll down and the sobs come out. You never wished to be away from your reality, it only seemed nice in your dreams. Right now, all you wanted was to go home and hug your parents, or even just see them. You felt lost, as lost as a five year old who can't find his mommy at the park. 

You got scared as you felt a big hand touch your shoulders. As your turn, to see who was it, Spencer looked as nice as you could ever picture him to, or see on the screens. His face resembles worry, like he was actually wondering what happened to you and why where you there. 

“I believe this is yours.” he hands you your jacket. 

You stare at him before.

“Yes, thank you.” you wipe the tears away. 

“No- No problem.” he said, sitting by your side. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.” you answered looking away. 

“You don't have to lie to me.” he said, as you looked back at him. “I wanna help you, but I can only do that if you cooperate with me.”

Why would he?

“I don't know where I am. I mean, I do know but I don't know how I ended up here. I understand what is going on, I did after a while but I don't know how to change this situation. I don't know how to go back home.” you said. 

Not like he’ll understand, anyways.

"Maybe... Maybe me and my team could help you figure it out?” he tries. 

“I doubt it.” you shake your shoulders. “I know that you guys are awesome at your job, don't get me wrong, to be honest I’m quite the big fan.” you laughed a bit. “But it’s just out of hand.” 

He stops, looking at you. Gave up offering help, you were not accepting he felt it. No, he knew it. It was his job to know what body language was telling him, anyways. He didn't want to stare at you, but he felt like he needed to. He was stuck at your looks, so pretty, yet so lost. 

“If we can't help you, is there anything I can do for you?” he asks. 

You looked right into his eyes. Thinking, if you should say it. Maybe so, it wouldn't kill you, it was not like it was the real world of something, well maybe it was but you couldn't care less. All you wanted was somewhere to stay this night and figure out how to get back.

“I do need a place to stay tonight.” you say, smiling little at him. 

He had a weird look on his face when you said that, like he wasn't expecting it. Because he wasn't. That moment he considered himself a crazy man, because he knew the risks and yet was up for it.

“Uh, ok.” 

Taglist: @feverdreamreid @andromedasstarship @paulaern @theetherealbloom @thatsonezesty13 @reidsalvez​ @pieceofreid @nymeria-targaryen​ @greeny-kitten​ @peppermintnight @notebookgirl30​ @2sarvinem @holding-on-to-my-youth​ @mggsprettygirl​ @iifloweringnightsii​ @iidontgiveafuckuniverse​ @mcntsee​