#the more online bullshit i start to notice

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

this man is killin me

[peachsukii]

A rage room is the last place Bakugo ever thought he’d end up with you.

When you bring up the idea to him after seeing one online, he scoffs at the thought of it. Working out and training is more than enough for him to let off metaphorical steam, and he’s been seeing a therapist since senior year of UA. He doesn’t need to smash shit to feel something.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Bakugo agrees to go with you, begrudgingly at first, but ultimately to keep you company, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself or be alone. There were only two rules: No quirk usage and no harming others in the room, everything else is fair game. You both sign the waivers and gear up to head inside. The room is overwhelming at first, full to the brim of freshly smash-able objects - a broken down car with the doors barely on their hinges, light bulbs, glass jars of all sizes, old stop lights, and other breakable trinkets.

“Start smashin’, sweets. It ain’t gonna break itself,” Bakugo jokes, patting you on the back to let you take the first swing. You pick up the bat the facility has supplied and turn to face him, setting it on your shoulder like a sword.

“You’re not gonna try it?”

He’s here and suited up, might as well let loose. What’s the worst that could happen?

Bakugo swings the bat a few times around the room, adrenaline trickling through his veins as glass continuously shatters around him. Suddenly, he’s lost in thought and caught in a slow emotional build up, like an ocean’s tide retreating before the giant swell of waves begin to crash against the shore. Memories begin flooding to the forefront of his mind, things he’d worked through in therapy - anger, frustration, fear, guilt, coursing through him. Bakugo doesn’t notice when you lower your bat, watching him curiously as he starts swinging harder, viciously picking up the pace and breathing heavily with each passing hit.

“Kats, you alright?” You call - he doesn’t hear you in his tunnel visioned state. In between swings, you can see the bat quaking in his grip as if it’s too heavy to hold.

“Katsuki!” you try again with no response. Bakugo sounds like he’s about to have a panic attack with the way his breath is labored. You toss your bat to the floor and rush over to him, gently grabbing at his shoulder to get his attention. He flinches at your touch, shaken up by his sudden visceral reaction with a tinge of embarrassment, hiding his face from you by tucking it against his opposite shoulder.

“Breathe, babe,” you sooth, rubbing calming circles in between his shoulder blades. “Do you need a minute?”

“I—” Bakugo stutters, his throat strained by his effort to hold in the onslaught of tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. He clears his throat and bites his lip in a desperate attempt to stop his emotions from overflowing, but he loses the battle.

“We can stop if—”

He snatches your breath away when Bakugo swings around and pulls you into his chest, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck awkwardly. The protective goggles are becoming foggy and wet with discarded tears, a hiccup strangled in his throat. One of your hands slides tenderly against his nape, fingers entangled with the soft blonde strands while the other lays against his back.

"It's okay, I've got you. It's just you and me here."

Turns out smashing shit gave him an outlet he didn’t know he needed. His therapist has preached to him about bodies holding onto stress and trauma throughout our lives - Bakugo thought it was utter bullshit.

He was proven dreadfully wrong. But one things for sure, he’s sincerely grateful you knew him better than himself, how badly he needed this release without verbalizing it.

[xiaq]

I don't know if anyone else in Texas/the US is dealing with this right now, but just a PSA: over the last year my primary doctor and my dermatologist both suddenly had a "suggested pharmacy" that would "conveniently deliver your medication for free" rather than just sending it to whatever pharmacy location was closest to me. I was like, sure? Sounds great?

I don't have regular prescriptions, but I noticed that the occasional prescriptions I needed for eczema flare-ups or when I had the flu, seemed like they cost more than they should.

My dermatologist prescribed me Tretinoin last week, which I've never used before. From research online, it looked like it should cost less than $20 with my insurance. When it came time to virtually "check out" for the suggested pharmacy, they wanted me to pay $55. I called my derm and was like, can I opt out of this suggested pharmacy and just get my script sent to the place by my house? And they pushed back a bit (supposedly, their prices were competitive and should be similar to those at any other pharmacy. Sure, Jan.) but eventually did transfer it. Turns out, Tretinoin is $10 at my normal pharmacy. So, I don't know exactly what this bullshit is but watch out for it if your doc suddenly starts suggesting a handy dandy pharmacy with "free" delivery.

[lvnleah]

Hi!! I said about lotte earlier, I’d love some kind of lotte x reader maybe early in relationship and reader has a fight with her family which she ends up spilling to the team in changing room/ team night. lotte instinctively gets really protective/ angry which puts their relationship to the group? or maybe something to do with a creepy fan at a match, lotte gets protective and their relationship is shared online? feel free to make any changes ❤️❤️

Under Pressure | Lotte Wubben-Moy

thank you so much for this request <33

word count: 900 a little short one!

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The hum of the changing room settled as you took a deep breath, peeling your training top off. The atmosphere was filled with the usual banter, chatter about the training session, weekend plans, and who got the most nutmegs that day. You had kept quiet for most of the day, a smile here and there, nodding along to your teammates’ chatter. But your mind was still spinning, replaying the argument with your family earlier that day.

You had walked out of that conversation, your head pounding, feeling like you had been run over by a truck. You couldn’t shake the hurtful words, the way their disbelief in your relationship with Lotte had made you feel so small. It was one thing for them to disapprove of your career in football, but to disapprove of her, of something that made you so happy, was a punch to the gut.

You and Lotte had been together for three months now, after being friends for so long you both decided it was time to try something new. Your family had never approved of you being a footballer let alone you being in a relationship with a woman.

“You okay?” Leah nudged you, bringing you back to reality instead of being inside of your head.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

She didn’t seem convinced but thankfully didn’t push further. You were grateful for that, not sure if you’d be able to keep up the fake smile much longer. You wanted to scream, to vent, to let it all out, but you were also terrified of breaking down in front of everyone.

Later that night, the team decided to head to a local pub. A night out with the team was meant to be a distraction. The usual post-training hangout was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and friendly teasing. But the mask you wore all day was starting to crack. Lotte, sitting across from you, noticed too. Her eyes flickered with concern, and she reached out under the table, her hand squeezing yours. It was a simple gesture, but it almost made you crumble.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered, leaning in close so only you could hear. Her voice was gentle, her thumb brushing against your knuckles.

You nodded, but the lump in your throat only grew. “Yeah, just family stuff.”

You could see the flicker of anger in her eyes, her jaw tightening slightly. She hated that you were hurting and hated even more that it was because of them. You loved her protective side, but right now, you needed her to stay calm. The last thing you wanted was to drag the team into this.

But the dam broke when someone asked innocently about your family. “They still giving you grief about football?” Viv asked, her tone light but laced with genuine concern.

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “Not just about football,” you muttered, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. “They… they don’t understand why I’m with Lotte. They don’t think it’s serious, and they don’t think she’s… right for me.”

Silence settled over the group. You looked up to find everyone staring at you, the concern and sympathy evident in their faces. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and you wished you could take the words back, shove them down where they wouldn’t see the light of day.

Lotte’s hand tightened around yours, “That’s bullshit,” she said, “You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes widened, and you tried to give her a look, something to tell her to calm down, but she was on a roll now, her anger radiating off her in waves. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see that, then screw them. You don’t need their approval.”

The room was silent, everyone watching the two of you with wide eyes. It dawned on you then that she had said all this in front of the entire team. It wasn’t like you were hiding your relationship, but you hadn’t exactly put it out there either. You had wanted to keep it private, to let it grow naturally, without the pressure of everyone knowing. But now, there it was, out in the open.

You swallowed hard, glancing around the table. Leah was looking at you with a small, knowing smile, Viv and Beth exchanged a look, and the rest of the team seemed to be processing this new information.

“Uh, well, I guess that’s out now,” you said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lotte turned to you, her anger melting away, replaced by a soft, almost apologetic expression. “Sorry, I just… I hate seeing you like this. I didn’t mean to…”

You shook your head, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay. I just hate that they get to me so much.”

She smiled softly. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

A collective “awww” went around the table, and you could feel your cheeks burning as you pulled away, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe it wasn’t how you planned to reveal your relationship, but looking around at the team’s warm, accepting smiles, you realised it didn’t matter.

[listentoace]

Screw those people who answer the question "What superpower would you want to have?" with flying, reading minds, and whatever mainstream bullshit. I want to be able to make any person across any distance gain any amount of fat I want. I want to be able to just think about you and put 100lbs onto you instantly, maybe 500lbs, maybe even more.

Imagine some concert where the singer millions of fans gush over just suddenly gains 200lbs, rips through their clothes, exposes their now fat body on a stage in front of tens of thousands of people, is immediately out of breath, maybe even collapses under the weight — that's just them now. There won't be any going back. Imagine having posted a single picture of yourself on Tumblr, having a feedee blog, and just suddenly starting to gain 1lbs per minute. You might not notice at first, but after 10-15 minutes your heart will be racing and you'll be so fucking horny. All those "reblog to gain x pounds" posts would become reality.

Think about all those hot Instagram models all turning into gluttenous blobs, setting an example for what beauty truly is. Greedy, fattened, blubbery pigs. Anyone who'd dare to share a picture of them online with a skinny body would be fat within minutes. Average weight and BMI would skyrocket and feederism would become a mainstream kink. Soon, we would forget what skinny people look like, because almost anybody is fat. There will just be an elite of a few feeders, fattening the world through telepathic command, working with my at my side, looking for new targets. If they don't deliver enough, they'll meet the same fate and are turned into pigs.

See, that's a good choice for a superpower! And now eat before I make you a blob myself. That way you at least get to enjoy some delicious food!

[yusuke-of-valla]

So, Video Game Voice Actors Are On Strike: A Quick and Dirty Guide for Tumblr Users

Starting on July 26th, SAG-AFTRA members that are part of the Interactive Media Agreement (so mostly voice actors for video games) will be on strike. If you're a member of SAG-AFTRA with questions, I would speak to them.

Most of this information is coming from the SAG-AFTRA website, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong about anything or ask if you need anything.

If you are a random tumblr user who wants to know what's going on, here we go.

Why are video game voice actors striking?

AI, as one could expect. From the union's statement:

Although agreements have been reached on many issues important to SAG-AFTRA members, the employers refuse to plainly affirm, in clear and enforceable language, that they will protect all performers covered by this contract in their A.I. language.

Which Games Are Being Struck?

Games from: Activision Productions Inc., Blindlight LLC, Disney Character Voices Inc., Electronic Arts Productions Inc., Formosa Interactive LLC, Insomniac Games Inc., Llama Productions LLC, Take 2 Productions Inc., VoiceWorks Productions Inc., and WB Games Inc. are all being struck.

There is also a website to confirm which union projects are being struck but you'd need to be a member actively working on it to use it.

Ok so I'm not a voice actor, union or otherwise, I just like games. What should I do.

I can NOT stress this enough. Do NOT stop playing games. The union has not asked for this, and is instead asking for people to amplify our messages online using #LevelUpTheContract, #VideoGameStrike and #SagAftraStrong."

You can also sign this petition in support of voice actors getting a fair deal.

I'm not a union representative but if a game you're looking forward to is being covered by the struck companies, I'd blow up your social media and their mentions with how much you love the voice acting and the actors deserve a fair contract, but other than that you are not being asked to boycott any games or not cosplay or attend events.

A Streamer is playing a struck game! Is that crossing the picket line?

No, SAG-AFTRA explicitly says that is fine, and in fact encourages it.

An actor is promoting/promoted a struck work at SDCC, is that crossing the picket line?

No, the statement explicitly says those attending SDCC can still do work there because of the short notice, they are also fine.

Wait didn't SAG-AFTRA already do some weird bullshit regarding video game voice actors and AI?

Yes, at the Consumer Electronics Show in January, SAG-AFTRA signed a deal with Replica AI to allow their members to create digital replicas, it was a whole thing and many voice actors were pissed.

So they're hypocrites?

Ok it's more complicated than that. Their logic for the Replica AI thing is rather than allow companies to do whatever they want, it was better to have a system in place to be able to clearly say when a company was breaking the rules and ensure that talent got some compensation.

We can debate the efficacy of that strategy all day and voice actors at the time were not happy, BUT the companies being struck here refuse to even rise to THAT standard and will not agree to the most basic protections for actors, which is worse.

People and organizations contain multitudes and it is not a betrayal or hypocritical to disagree with SAG-AFTRA leadership on the Replica AI situation and side with them, and more importantly their members in this case.

Why aren't game devs striking/ It's not devs on strike so I don't care

The Screen Actors Guild covers actors, so it would not be in everyone's best interest if they were to try and negotiate on behalf of people in different fields with different needs.

However, one way to build support for the various movements to unionize at places like Activision-Blizzard and Bethesda is to support labor movements everywhere and show solidarity whenever it comes up.

Why are the actors striking when the developers should be paid more.

They should be paid more! And they should not be laid off as much. One way to help with that is to be able to point to voice actors and say, hey they got a raise, I want one too.

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Useful 🔞🔞🔞 (Jimin x Reader)

Summary: You’ve stretched yourself thin lately and you know it, and so does your boyfriend Jimin. As Jimin always takes good care of you, you decide to give him a treat to thank him—and as always, Jimin gives you back your love tenfold. 

Tags: Dom!Jimin, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, massages, kneeling, collars, Y/N calls Jimin sir, sub space, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, breeding, cock drunk Y/N, multiple orgasms (f.), protective!jimin (��🥵🥵🥵🥵), aftercare!!!!!!

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that LOL)

W/C: 3055 (3k)

A/N: Guess who’s back on their bullshit? ME. Sorry I kind of disappeared again LOL being a functioning adult is the worst. Anyway, here's some massage-turned-unprotected-sex. <33

Sometimes, you get in moods like this. Moods where everything is irritating and stupid and simultaneously upsetting. You know yourself well enough to know it has to do with you stretching yourself too thin. Work? Of course you can do that task. Family? Absolutely you can attend that event. Friends? Yes, you’d love to go out tonight. 

Jimin also knows you well enough to know when you’re getting like this. You know he’s noticed, from the way he puts in a bit more effort lately to keep you happy. He buys your favourite takeout dinner and bath bombs and even a new matching scarf and gloves set to keep you warm. That’s the way Jimin is—a natural giver with a considerate, purposeful mind. He never so much as says a word to you about your little gifts, but you know he notices when you give him a few more kisses than usual to silently show your affection. 

But you’re getting to a point now where two things become obvious: you need a break before you burn out, and Jimin needs to be shown that you appreciate him before he starts to feel burned out himself. 

The solution comes in the form of an at-home spa kit you buy online. It’s not much, a little warmer and a bottle of lavender scented oil, along with some candles and little hand towels. But knowing Jimin—and knowing you—you don’t stop there. Instead, you hop in the shower as soon as you come home. You wash up and dress in only panties and one of Jimin’s oversized sweaters, light candles and then warm up the oil. 

As your shared bedroom is filled with romantic lighting and the sweet lavender smell, your mind wanders. You think of Jimin’s face when he sees you like this, how his eyes will darken and a smirk will spread on his lips. You think of taking care of him and thanking him for all he does for you with both words and your hands on his body. And naturally, you think of how Jimin will return the favour—with firm words and strong arms around you. A perfect balance of sweetness, teasing, and protectiveness: that’s Park Jimin. 

Your eyes flicker to the collar you set on the nightstand, a black leather collar with plush inner lining and a custom silver J embroidered on the front. You press your thighs together, waiting. 

“Baby?” Your heart leaps as you hear Jimin’s voice down the hallway. Your boyfriend emerges from the hall, curious eyes peeking into the dimly lit room. Then, he sees you, scantily dressed in front of the bed. Jimin smiles, but there’s that familiar edge. “Oh, what’s this?” He asks. 

You lick your lips as Jimin draws closer, loosening his tie. “A surprise.” You whisper. 

Jimin laughs, taking a seat on the bed. “I can see that.” He says, glancing at the massage oil. Your boyfriend brings you to stand between his spread legs with both hands on your wrists. You swallow as he looks up at you with darkness in his eyes. “What kind of surprise, exactly?”

“A massage.” You reply, pressing your thighs together again. Jimin notices, but he’s not strict with you today—he knows you’re too worked up to be teased today. Instead, the man leans in, pressing kisses against your belly over your sweater. You shiver—his lips are still cold from outside, even through the soft material.

“That will be fun.” Jimin says. “Thank you for doing this, baby.”

“No, thank you.” You say, and to anyone else, you would sound like strangers. But only you know the way Jimin’s simple words and touches make you want to obey him, show him how grateful you are, how well you can take care of him. Jimin knows it, too, which is why he lets go of your wrists and runs his hands—which are warm, likely from wearing mittens—up and down the backs of your thighs. “You’ve been so nice to me. I-I want to take care of you.”

Jimin hums, and it’s more beautiful than any melody you’ve ever heard. “Mmhm.” He says, and one hand brushes over your clothed core. You shiver. “Want to submit to me?” He asks, then begins kneading your ass. His touch is firm, reminding you of your place even as you tower over him. 

“Please.” You gasp. “Please, sir.”

“Go get your collar.” Jimin answers, letting go of you. He leans back on his hands as you scurry to the nightstand and back. You kneel on the plush rug by Jimin’s feet, then present your collar to him with both hands. The dom accepts it from you, and you elongate your neck for his ease of access. Jimin plants his elbows on his knees, bending over you to fix the collar in place. “What’s your colour, baby?” The dom asks even though you both know how desperate you are already.

“Green, sir.” 

“Good girl.” Jimin says, then stands up. You look up at him, face a few inches below his clothed cock. Jimin’s eyes darken. He knows what you want, and you both know he’s never denied it to you within limits. You wait patiently as the dom removes his pants, then his boxers and discards them on the floor. When Jimin sits down, you grab the warmed bottle of massage oil off the bed. 

“May I begin, sir?”

“Yes.” Jimin answers, and even he sounds slightly breathless now.

You begin on his right leg, massaging his thigh dutifully. You work away at the knots caused by long hours, then down to his calf. “You have a talent for this.” Jimin praises you, carding a hand through your hair. Your face burns as you sit between his legs and serve him, but you feel so good, so useful. And Jimin is nothing if not vocal about it. “Such a quick learner. My good, smart girl.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as you finish massaging the right leg, then move to his left leg. You repeat your motions, slow and dutiful. As you work at one particular knot in the back of Jimin’s left calf, he sighs in relief. You smile and Jimin catches it. 

“Feel good that you’re helping me?” He asks, and you look up at him. Jimin cups your face with one hand, looking down at you with love. It makes you want to cry in joy, but it also makes your vagina throb as you want to give yourself to him. But you tell yourself to be patient. You want to make Jimin feel good, and you know Jimin will return it tenfold to you in due time. “Massage my hips for me, baby. They’re a bit sore.”

You nod, putting a bit more oil on your hands. You place your hands on Jimin’s hips, running your thumbs along the groove of his V-line and pressing your fingers into his hips. You work at his hips until you end up down at his mons pubis and then lower, where a hard, heavy cock hangs between his legs. “C-Can I help you with that, too, sir?” You ask, and you surprise yourself with how whiny it comes out. 

Jimin laughs at your politeness. “Of course, beautiful.”

You lick your lips, running your slicked hands over Jimin’s cock. You run your hands up and down the shaft, collecting pre-come to lubricate him further. You take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. Jimin groans above you, spilling praise from his lips. “Oh, that’s right. Just like that. So good, so perfect for me.”

His praise urges you to take him deeper until your nose presses against his mons pubis. You use your hands to cup his balls, massaging them gently. You work your way up and down the shaft, with Jimin’s ever-louder sighs and curses egging you on. You can feel the tightness in Jimin’s abdomen, the way he wants to come in your mouth. And you’d let him, oh how you’d let him. 

But before he can come, Jimin pulls you off him. You look at him, confused. “Come here.” Jimin says, and you climb up into the bed. You eye his cock, but Jimin gives you a breathless chuckle. “You haven’t massaged my back yet, remember?” He reminds you. You blush, and Jimin beckons you closer with two fingers. You position yourself behind him, sitting with your thighs on either side of Jimin’s hips, and add more oil to your hands before massaging his shoulders. 

Jimin sighs as you work away the tension, and his hands find your calves, stroking small circles into your skin. You’re halfway down Jimin’s back when he wraps his arms around your calves and pulls. You gasp as you end up with your clothed vagina against his bare ass. Jimin chuckles, and you know he can feel how wet you are. Flushing in embarrassment, you try to shuffle back, but your boyfriend holds you in place. “I think that’s enough for my back. Why don’t you come over to the front?” Jimin purrs, glancing at you over his shoulder. You gasp as he presses himself back against your soaked panties.

“Y-Yes sir.” You say, and Jimin releases your calves. 

You crawl around Jimin, and the dom lays down. He folds his arms up behind his head, looking comfortable like he’s laying on a sunbed somewhere warm. “Get on my lap.” He says. “And take everything off.”

You remove the two articles you’re wearing in a heartbeat, then straddle your boyfriend’s hips. It’s a struggle to not push yourself down on the leaking cock tucked just behind your ass, since Jimin hasn’t given you permission to ride him yet. 

You run your oiled hands up and down Jimin’s abdomen, over the hard ridges of his ribs and the plushness of his belly. Jimin looks at you for a moment, then grins. “You know, I’m not a big fan of this oil. Can we try something else for wetness?” 

“L-Like?” You ask, but Jimin just holds his hands out to you. You flush, knowing what he wants.

You crawl closer, until you’re straddling Jimin’s face. “Oh, that’s much better.” He says, then breathes cool air onto your already throbbing clit. “Such a useful, useful girl I have.” Jimin says. Before you can thank him, he presses his tongue past the opening of your sopping wet hole. You whimper, almost collapsing but JImin holds you up with his strong grip. “So busy being useful you forgot you’re supposed to feel good, too, didn’t you?” He asks, looking up at you darkly. “But you’re always like that. Always thinking you have to do it all alone, even though I’m right here—” He says, then swirls his tongue around inside you. You cry out. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry, sir!” You beg.

Jimin licks a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Then, he sucks at the bud until you’re shaking above him. “Are you? Are you going to let me put you in your place?”

“Yes, yes, sir!” You chant.

Jimin releases one hand from your hips, sliding it down the curve of your ass until it finds your hole. He presses two digits inside you, and you accommodate them easily. “Good girl.” He praises you, and you’re almost crying by now. You cry out his title. “Count.” He orders.

“T-Ten…N-Nine…” You count, trembling from the force of not coming from Jimin’s skillful lips against your most sensitive lips. “Eight…s-seven, oh—” You moan as Jimin nips at your inner fold, then releases it. Then, Jimin begins pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. “S-Six, five, four—” You continue as Jimin eggs you on. 

“T-Three, oh, two, one—” You pant heavily.

“Now.” Jimin orders and tears fall from your eyes and you shake so hard from your orgasm that he has to hold you up. “Good girl. That’s my girl.” He praises you, turning you so you can lay down against the bed.

“Yours. Yours.” You repeat hazily as Jimin arranges himself above you. He plants his hands on either side of your waist, then kisses you long and deep. 

“Colour?” He checks. 

“Green, please, sir.” You say, guiding his hand up to your collar. “Yours, please, sir.” You all but babble. Jimin beams with pride. 

“That’s right. All mine.” Jimin says, kissing at your hardened nipples, then down to your belly. With one hand, he begins rubbing at your clit again. He works you back up until you’re whiny and grinding against him for another orgasm. “Would my good girl like my cock?” Jimin asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes!” You answer immediately. 

“Where?” Jimin teases. You reach down and spread your outer folds, not caring how messy you look right now. Jimin’s gaze darkens. “Right here? In your pretty hole?” He asks, sliding two fingers back into you. You whine as he wiggles the fingers inside you until the room is full of wet sounds. 

“Yes, please. W-Want your cock, sir.” You beg, clenching around his fingers.

Jimin withdraws his fingers, then lines himself up to your entrance. You both moan as he bottoms out within seconds from how soaked and loose you are. “Where do you feel that, baby?” Jimin asks, more for his pride than any other reason. 

You place a hand on your belly. “Right here.” You say. “All full.”

“Yeah?” Jimin says, gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart. He thrusts in and you have to fight not to come right then and there. 

“Yeah.” You whimper. “W-Want your come right there.”

“I know.” Jimin coos at you. “You need your hole nice and full, don’t you? Need to fill up your pretty belly with my seed so you remember who you belong to. So you can quit. Trying. To do. Everything. By yourself.” Jimin says, punctuating his words with long and deep strokes that have your back arching off the bed.

“P-Please sir.” You whine. “Your seed. Please.”

“Gonna come again already?” Jimin asks, knowing your body well. When you reply yes and plead him for permission, Jimin leans down and kisses your forehead. “Hold on a bit more, you can do it.”

“Y-Yes. Yes. Anything you say!” You say, feeling cock drunk. It doesn’t take more than that, only a few more pumps until Jimin’s hips are stuttering from the way you clench him desperately—even as he’s moving. 

“Rub your clit.” Jimin orders, and you reach down, rubbing hard and fast. Within seconds, Jimin is slamming into you one last time, filling you with his hot seed. You come hard around him a second time, but Jimin isn’t done there. He pulls you up, making you squeal. You whine as your positions reverse, with you on top and Jimin laying down. “You can come around me one more time, since you were such a good, good girl.” He praises, entangling a hand in your hair. His grip is firm but not painful. 

“Thank you, sir.” You reply gratefully, running your fingers over your clit. There’s something exhilarating about being stuffed full of come and getting to put yourself on display with it. You make a show of pushing yourself to a third orgasm around Jimin, his seed making both of your thighs sticky and gooey. 

“Show yourself to me again.” Jimin demands, and you spread your folds to him again. The dom growls. “Such a pretty cunt. Who owns that?”

“You, sir!”

“That’s right.” Jimin replies. “Gonna come again for me? My good girl, making a mess with my seed?”

“Yes, please!” You all but scream.

“What a pretty fucking girl. I want to give you my come again and again, until you can feel a baby growing where I put my seed. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Being shown off to everyone as the pretty, obedient girl I got to knock up and to take care of?”

“Yes, oh, please—” You’re crying again, almost insane with the thought of being protected and taken care of by Jimin. You’re so deep into your subspace by now all you can think of is how safe and good you feel right now. “Please, all yours—”

“Come.”

The single word sends you over the edge, and you tremble around him a third time. You lay down on top of Jimin with his cock still inside you. The dom wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “So sweet. My perfect baby.” He praises you, peppering kisses on your temple and forehead. 

“Thank you. Thank you sir.” You repeat over and over, and Jimin holds you tight. 

Once you’re ready, Jimin slides out of you. You roll onto the sheets, but Jimin doesn’t give you time to get lazy. “Come on, we need to shower.” He says, pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You squeal, tucking your chin over his shoulder. 

Jimin helps you shower, particularly gentle with your hips and legs as he knows they’re sore now. He helps you dress in your pyjamas. Then, he lifts you onto the counter, insisting on doing your skincare routine for you. You giggle but let him help you, knowing he likes to spoil you like this. Once you’re done, you hold your arms out to be carried back to bed. Jimin laughs, kissing you again. 

“Oh, you’re a real menace.” Jimin complains dramatically, setting you down in the armchair a few paces from the bed. You grin up at him, and Jimin strokes a hand down the side of your face lovingly. “I’ll be right back.” He says. 

You watch him leave the room, then return with two granola bars and a bottle of water. “I know you ate, but just in case.” Jimin says, watching you open the snacks. While you eat and drink water, your boyfriend changes the bedsheets and blows out the candles. Once he’s done with that, you join him in bed. Jimin envelopes you in his arms, kissing your forehead softly. 

“That wasn’t too much for you, was it?” He checks. 

“No, not at all.” You say, feeling shy when Jimin looks at you with that intense look—like he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and safe. “Thank you.” You add.

Jimin smiles. “You’re welcome, my love.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, my baby.”

[mimimui]

okay bllk boys as your not so bf was so good BUT IF you are willing to, could you do a sequel where reader either distances themselves or something along those lines

distance (doesn't) make the heart grow fonder (blue lock)

[ first part ] wherein you distance yourself from (character).

includes: isagi, bachira, chigiri, nagi, reo, rin

tags: one-sided, use of profanity, angst if you squint hard enough, boys annoyingly oblivious to reader's feelings, not proofread

a/n: (again) inspired by my not-so bf. i know the longing and mixed signals all too well :p this request has been collecting dust in my ask box but living rent-free in my head so .. enjoy !

you were always the one initiating conversations with isagi. not like you minded though, as long as you got to talk to him, you were happy. you can remember the first conversation you had with him as clear as day—you asked him which page the assignment was. you thought it was an absolutely brilliant plan to start talking to him regularly. it worked, obviously.

but then you noticed how dry his messages were. when you sent him three or four, he would reply back with one. isagi wasn't usually like this, no, he would return your energy all the time. it didn't bother you at first because you know he's busy with his sports, but his disinterest was getting more apparent.

you thought you were a bother to him; you thought you were annoying him, so you slowly stopped talking to him until neither of you spoke to each other at all. you stopped greeting him when you saw him, and you always saw his indifferent facial expression. uncaring, unconcerned.

it's like he forgot all about the conversations you shared. had he suddenly forgotten how close you two were? had he never cared about you? bullshit.

you waited for bachira to put his arm over your shoulders like he usually does, but he didn't today. you brushed it off, maybe he just wasn't feeling clingy yet. bachira always is touching you one way or another when you're together, but he suddenly stopped doing it.

you found it weird when he quickly retracted his hand from you when yours brushed against his. you also found it weird when he was suddenly leaning away from you in class, rather than leaning towards you. it was really weird when he was purposely standing far away from you. no matter how much you tried to get close, he would just move.

saying this only hurt you a bit was an understatement. of course it hurt you a lot, why was bachira suddenly ignoring you? you don't recall doing anything wrong or making anything awkward, so it's uncharacterisitc for him to be so... distant from you.

you decided to do the same. ignore him, distance yourself from him, and stop talking to him. you don't even know if he still considers you a friend.

chigiri slowly stopped asking to borrow your things. you didn't see anything wrong with it, but when you see him borrow things from other people, you feel a bit off about it. you thought it was stupid to feel this way—why is your heart sinking when you see him go up to someone else when he needs something?

you always gave him what he needed. you were always there when he needed something, and you were always happy to help. you loved helping him, actually. the smile he gives you when you let him borrow something is something you treasure.

it shouldn't hurt to see him borrow things from other people, it feels stupid to act this way. but you can't help it. you wouldn't be bothered by it, but the way he also stopped talking to you is what irks you the most. 'okay, you don't need to borrow my things anymore, but at least talk to me?' you think.

chigiri always gave back the things he borrowed from you safe and sound. the only thing he's ever stolen was your heart, and you're afraid he'll return it broken.

you sigh once again as you wait for nagi to go online on the game you two agreed to play together. he said he was going to go on soon, but it's been an hour, and you're bored out of your mind. you message him once more, hoping he'll reply this time. your smile drops as soon as you see his message: "can we play next time? im tired"

there was in fact no 'next time', because you haven't played a game with nagi in forever. every time you ask him to play with you, he will always reject you. he isn't the kind of person to decline a game invite, so you thought it was weird for him to suddenly be tired of playing video games.

games aren't as fun to play when you're alone. but nagi isn't joining you, so you just don't play at all. you were only ever excited to play because he was with you. when you see him online, you're quick to open the in-game chat, but then you notice he's playing with someone else.

it shouldn't bother you, really, but it's funny that you closed your game and went offline. you haven't played that game since.

you understand that reo was a busy person, but you never thought he'd get busy to the point where he no longer has time to spend with you. before, he'd always put in the effort to make time for you, no matter what. but it seems he's forgotten about your planned hangout again because he didn't show up.

the barista gave you a free drink and tried to give you words of encouragement, but you were quick to thank and dismiss them. you left the cafe that day wondering if you meant anything special to reo. he's always treated you differently than others, that's for sure. but did it ever actually mean anything?

you stare at the opened delivery app on your phone, debating on whether or not you should disconnect his online payment from your account. i mean, it's not like you mean anything to him anymore, so it's wrong to use his money.

you sighed as you reconnected your own account, ordering your usual. that was the last connection you had to reo.

you knew rin didn't prioritize relationships. hell, it wasn't on his priority list at all. but you had a glimmer of hope inside that maybe, just maybe, he thinks about you in that way. that maybe because of you, he'll consider being in a relationship.

you knew you and rin were not just friends. friends don't do the things you two do. so when you two flirt, you feel giddy. you thought that rin meant something more with his flirtatious actions, but when he calls you 'just a friend', your stomach drops.

he shares with you that he enjoys flirting for fun, and meaning nothing of it. of course he doesn't talk about you directly, but that's what it feels like. rin says it as if he's sharing a fun fact about himself, even feeling proud of it.

he notices your expression and asks why you look like that. you say it's nothing. nothing, just like what you are to him.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[yxtubers]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝

matt sturniolo x reader (angst/fluff)

summary: after a huge misunderstanding, matt has to find a way to fix things

warnings/notes: mild argument, mentions of cheating

requested?: yes!

> > >

Ever since you and Matt started dating, you made an oath to never believe the things said online. People posted nasty comments about you and your relationship - so the deal was struck that you guys would advise each other should anything worrying come up.

This notion was quickly thrown out the window however once Matt witnessed something that made his stomach drop.

It was a picture of you and some guy. Shamelessly hugging at a café near town. He saw a huge grin plastered onto your face. He didn’t like jumping to conclusions, but when he saw another picture pop up on his timeline of you guys having a coffee together, his blood began to run cold.

Could this be?

He trusted you with everything he had, but something about this struck him as odd. You had told him you were just going to the post office - plus, he had never seen or heard of this ‘friend’ before.

Trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, his mind came to the conclusion that perhaps you had just run into an old friend and decided to catch up.

However when you came home and failed to mention your early morning rendezvous with this new friend of yours, he began to panic. He had specifically asked you what you did today in the hopes that you would ease his worries - but when you completely and blatantly lied to his face? He lost it.

“I saw you,” he blurted out.

You turned around to face him, confusion settling on your features. You set your keys behind you quickly and walked up to Matt.

“Saw me where?”

He huffed in annoyance. He hated that you were pretending to act clueless.

“With that guy,” he said. When you didn’t budge he kept going. “You were at a café. You’re lying to me - you said you went to the post office!”

He didn’t like accusing you of anything, but what was he supposed to think?

To be fair, it was true that you had been at the post office that day - but it was also true that you had been at that café. What Matt didn’t know was that what he saw was not an example of you being unfaithful, and when you tried to explain this, he wasn’t having any of it.

“No - you lied to me. And for what? To go see some guy? I trusted you!”

You could see the hurt on his face as he finished his sentence, his breathing picking up.

“He’s not just some guy!” you yelled back.

Matt was taken aback, involuntarily stepping backwards from you. He felt betrayed, and even more - angry. How could you be defending this man when he was trying to confront you for what you did?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you trailed off, sighing.

You took a few steps towards Matt, but he backed away again, tears brimming at his eyes.

“He’s my brother.”

Matt scoffed, rolling his eyes. The audacity of you to come up with this bullshit shocked him completely.

“I’m not lying - look,” you said as you pulled out your phone and showed him some old pictures.

Sure enough, there was the café guy with you. Except you were both younger. Your mother could be seen behind you both, her arms wrapped around your shoulders.

The memory made your eyes sting, and before you could stop yourself you let out a huge sob, dropping your phone into Matt’s hands.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t ready yet - I haven’t seen him in years… I- I wanted to meet him first and-“ you said as you tried to keep the trembling in your voice to a minimum. “I’m not even sure if he’s gonna stick around this time.”

Matt furrowed his brows, looking intently at the images on your phone. Now that he noticed it, you guys did look alike - and now he felt horrible for assuming the worst of you.

Taking your phone back from him, you placed it in your pocket.

“I’ll explain everything another time. I think I just want to be alone right now,” you mumbled, your head throbbing from all the sudden crying. Sniffling and wiping away your tears, you grabbed your car keys off the table.

Before Matt could come to his senses and stop you, you were already out the door, reversing out of his driveway.

- - -

You made quick work getting home. Attempting to keep your tears at bay could only last so long, so you drove as fast as possible. Rain pattered against your windscreen and the squeaking of the wipers was all you could focus on to help calm your breathing down.

Seeing your brother for the first time in years made you extremely emotional. You were happy, of course - but the hurt that he caused you and your family still lingered whenever you saw his face. What hurt even more was that Matt thought you would ever betray his trust.

You didn’t blame him. The evidence seemed pretty convincing. Yet you wished you didn’t have to reveal this secret to him so soon. You wished you had more time to prepare - your brother had always been a sensitive topic to you. It was just easier to not mention him around Matt and his brothers. That would cause too many buried emotions to come up, and you really never felt like explaining your family drama.

How well that worked out, you thought to yourself.

What you didn’t know was that Matt had ran out of the house almost immediately. Chris and Nick had been out somewhere with the minivan, so he opted to run after you since your house wasn’t too far.

He tried to think of what he would say once he saw you. Nothing seemed good enough. How could he even begin to convey how sorry he was?

He was at your door in less than 10 minutes.

Seeing your car parked out front, he jogged up to your door, knocking desperately.

“Matt?” you said as you opened the door.

There he was on your front doorstep, soaking wet and shivering in the cold. His hair was dripping water onto the ground, and his tears were masked by the raindrops trickling down his cheeks.

“What are you doing?”

Grabbing his arm you pulled him inside, immediately grabbing a towel and wrapping him up.

You sat him down on your couch and turned on the heater, hoping to prevent him from catching a cold. Once Matt’s teeth stopped chattering, he began to speak.

“I can’t even tell you how sorry I am,” he whispered, his puppy-dog eyes welling up with tears once again.

“Matt-“ you began.

“Let me finish. I should have never accused you of cheating - I know you had your reasons for hiding this from me. I just want you to know that you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’ll be here to listen whenever you’re ready, no rush.”

You pulled his head to your chest, hugging him tightly. Matt’s tears soaked your t-shirt but you didn’t care. All you were worried about now was him and how cold he probably was.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to lie to you,” you said as you toyed with the wet strands of hair on his head.

“And I hope you know I would never cheat on you. I’m sorry that you thought that.”

He raised his head, smiling at you.

“I know,” he said.

Grabbing your hands in his, he peppered kisses all over your fingers and palms, giving love to each individual finger and inch of skin.

“Last time I believe pictures from the internet,” he joked as he intertwined your hands, laying his head back on your shoulder.

“I thought that’s always been the deal, goofball.”

After a few moments of silence you pulled Matt off the couch, bringing him to your bedroom where you dried his hair off with your dryer.

His hands rested on your hips, playing with the hem of your shirt as he sat on your bed. You stood above him, making sure to get every strand of hair water-free for him.

“I love you,” he said as you unplugged the hairdryer from the wall, his eyes trailing across your features adoringly.

Resting it on the floor, your feet padded up towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his forehead which was nice and dry now.

“I love you too, baby.”

He pulled you on top of him, falling backwards onto the bed as he gripped your waist tightly. With your legs straddling him and Matt’s hold unwavering, you both fell asleep, happy as ever.

[aromanticannibal]

yeah so if you genuinely don't know how to write an email instead of using chatgpt and getting something that 1: has a chance to just fucking suck (and potentially be noticeably AI) and 2: uses stolen content, ruins the environment and indicates to the gen-AI companies that you want more gen-AI bullshit that will steal things and ruin the environment, you can look up how to write an email or look up email examples. here's a website, here's another, here's the wikihow page (it's a bit shit but it does its job), here's a good one for formal emails, and here's an email I sent today (more examples under the cut):

something that's really annoying right now is that most websites are desperately trying to sell you their cool funky AI friend that can write the email for you, and look at me: you have to tell it to go fuck itself (in your head, don't use it). this isn't about you being a moron for not being about to write an email, I struggled with it for a while too, I still do sometimes, writing emails notoriously sucks. gen-AI sucks more.

also, this might not be the case for everyone, but please at least try to learn how to write the email before using chatgpt, it will help you forever. if you have a question about emails or if you're not sure how to write one specific email, you can send an ask: I'm not all-knowing but I'll do my best to help.

I can mostly help for college/high school levels and I am studying in a French school, so the codes may not be exactly the same, but I am in fact being taught by English speakers, sometimes native ones.

I'll give more general advice at the end, but here are a few examples of emails I would send.

If there's even a small chance of your teacher not recognizing you, write at the top something like "I am Name Last name, I am in your X-Y-Z class on Mondays from 8AM to 9AM". This isn't too useful in high school because your teachers likely know you, but in college your teachers might not. This will give them context.

Do your best to avoid typos or grammar errors. Reread your email, especially if the teacher is a language teacher.

Be polite, always, unless the teacher explicitly specified they don't care.

You do not need to beg for anything, don't debase yourself, and if a teacher makes you debase yourself, report them. You shouldn't have to beg for something that you ask for in an email. (so no more than one please per email, and avoid this one please if possible).

If it's possible and safe for you, prefer discussing important matters IRL.

Remember who you're talking to. Is the teacher strict or chill? Younger or older? Are they a white abled man or a Black disabled woman? Are they very into "respect the teacher!!" or do they put themselves at your level? Are you a 15 y/o high school student or a 20 something college student? Is this teacher familiar with you? Have they been understanding in the past? etc.

Generally, despite all my warnings above, a simple polite email will be fine with most teachers. If you're not sure how to identify the above possibilities or how to alter your emails depending on them, just write a formal, polite email (like seen above).

Some universities have online courses that teach you how to write emails. If there is a web-type course in your university and you can take it, take it.

Mine has one. I hate it. They defined a tweet as a "post on a blogging platform". I have to complete it or I don't pass. It still has a good tutorial for writing emails. You are lucky in the sense that emails are like the basic thing that even the boomer teachers know how to do (even if they don't like doing it), so there are a lot of resources for people who haven't written emails yet and need to learn.

If possible, ask your teacher at the start of the year what email to contact them with - if you're lucky, they'll say things about what kinds of emails they want.

If you're lucky still, someone else will send a shit email and the teacher will make a point during the class to remind how to write a proper email.

I put "Dear name" everywhere, but if it's not an extremely formal setting, some teachers will be fine with a "Hello". If you're not sure of the receiver's gender, use their title (Dr. etc).

For the extension: sometimes teachers aren't allowed to give you an extension or are assholes who don't want to give you an extension. In that case, don't bother writing another email (again: don't beg. + it will make them dislike you which you don't want).

This works more in work settings, but I read once that it's good to say "I will be taking a day off" rather than "May I take a day off/is it possible to take a day off". Just say that it's going to happen.

Know your rights. I can't know them for you. Figure out what the teacher can and cannot do through legal documents on your school's website or whatever. Know your rights depending on your state or country.

If you have a bad memory and don't want to have to look up how to write an email everytime, open your notes app or your blocknote or any preferred place to take notes and write down the important. I'd advise to note common greetings, subjects, opening and closing lines. Same for your teachers, if you need to remember which one is a bitch and which one is chill, write their name down with a description.

[rhondafromhr]

I normally don’t like social media/youtuber AUs but I just came up with a really unhinged one that I feel compelled to subject y’all to.

So, Stephanie’s a podcast girlie. She started one to rebel against the constant pressure to stay out of the public eye and not do anything to make her dad look bad by saying a bunch of things she know will enrage the public (like “peanuts the pocket squirrel is overrated”) and having controversial guests. As it took off, she really started to enjoy the financial independence and attention/validation it brought her, eventually moving to LA to do it full-time.

Grace has a fundamentalist channel (not unlike Girl Defined) where she basically just spouts purity culture bullshit. She’s controversial and while she does have a decent amount of people following her unironically, most of her views are hate watches and she gets a lot of her engagement from commentary channels dunking on her. One of those channels is run by none other than Peter Spankoffski - most of his content is nerdy/science based stuff and that’s his real passion, but he needs to make rent and the videos about Grace are what get views and money.

Stephanie decides that having them both on her podcast would make for one hell of an episode and they agree to do it. She asks questions she knows will get them riled up and cause arguments. It escalates to an all-out screaming match at some points, but the second the cameras are off Grace completely switches up, just totally calm and unbothered. Then she hits on Stephanie, which really confuses the other two. It turns out she’s a grifter - she hasn’t bought into the things she preaches on her channel in a long time, but she keeps it up for the money and because she’s been doing it for so long she doesn’t know what else she would do. Steph and Pete both get it so they’re just like “oh, cool, respect.” Pete invites them to a party hosted by his friend Ruth - an aspiring actress and popular lifestyle vlogger. Her real dream is live theater, but she has a lot of anxiety and she’s way more comfortable talking to a camera and posting online than performing in front of a crowd. The few roles she has gotten have been less about her talent and more about using her following to sell tickets, which is a big insecurity of hers.

At the party, they run into Max, who has one of those awful prank channels where he’s an absolute menace to the public and Richie, his camera man (they met and became unlikely friends in college. They started the channel when Max got an injury that kept him from playing football and had a crisis over what to do with his life). Richie can’t believe this is what he’s using his film degree for and he constantly tries to get Max to pivot to more serious content. The six all get to talking and realize they all grew up in Hatchetfield (Max went to Sycamore in this universe. He was still a literal monster and bullied everyone there, but Hatchetfield High was safe). They talk for hours about all the strange occurrences they noticed back home and the fact that they all suspect some sinister, supernatural forces are at work there. Eventually, they decide to travel back there, investigate and exploit their findings for content in the most epic collab the world’s ever seen.

[rubra-wav]

Why So Blue? Vox x Reader

[ Part 1 - A Like Morning Unlike Others ]

A/N: I have a kind of loose idea of where I'm maybe taking this one, but I am very much open to any suggestions.

People asked to be tagged in what was going to be part 2 to the oneshot. My ideas changed a bit with this tho, and it's being rewritten as a fic from the start - sorry if this isn't what you really had in mind w that request 😭

[ Taglist ] @gigglesandshits @serendipitous-fernweh @valentinosbabycakes @ seriouslyaverage (won't let me @ ???)

[ part 2 ] >>

Cw: SFW, Gn!Reader, slight staticmoth reference

The morning you first showed up was like any other for the Video Star.

As always, Vox awoke at 7:00 am on the dot, staring at the ceiling for a couple of seconds as his system warmed up properly for the day ahead.

After the 'sleep' cleared from his mind, he sat up and then climbed from his bed to quickly change before swiping his phone off his nightstand as he walked to the personal kitchen in his part of the building (he had it installed so he didnt have to see his colleagues before his persona was up to snuff) and began scrolling through his emails.

He opted for those from Carmine rather than Velvette or Valentino.

It was frankly too fucking early to deal with whatever bullshit they were yelling about on seemingly all of his socials in his mind. (a decision he'd come to regret rather soon)

Last night's hangover still clung to him, but he pushed through it. He was rather happy all things considered. Carmine's email confirmed that she was on board with partnering up for personal surveillance systems without much questioning, thankfully.

He was about to get even fucking richer.

He grinned widely at the prospect as he leisurely made his coffee - black, naturally - fantasising about how he'd be able to spy on hell's citizens even more with them literally installing surveillance cameras into their own homes for security purposes.

Those poor, desperate idiots practically exploit themselves!

Vox chuckled at the thought, humming as he walked in the direction of his broadcast room, scrolling to look over the email Carmine sent once again to fully understand all agreements. To try to see what he'd be able to push her into doing potentially.

The hatch to his lair broadcast room opened loudly and closed just as loudly behind him as his footfalls echoed in the silent room against the cold tiles.

Vox didn't look up once as he made his way to his seat.

He didn't need to.

He knew where everything was in here as nobody else was ever in here. And if they were?

Well, those demons wouldn't be 'employed' much longer, we'll say that.

His seat squeaked as he sat on it, sipping his coffee as he swiped through some more notifications.

He glanced at his monitor momentarily as he took a deep sip of coffee that would gross anyone else out, then promptly choked on it, gracelessly spitting some onto his keyboard and lap.

He felt truly chilled to the bone for the first time in a long while.

Wide, red eyes watched in horror as a very drunk version of himself from last night met him. In the video, he was shaking his hips from where he stood on a bar while singing (he assumed) shittily if his memory served right.

The video was muted from where it played on the screen of every monitor in his room, but he expected it.

His frozen present self watched himself in the video as drunk Vox stumbled and then proceeded to topple off-camera to the ground.

His instant assumption was that Valentino or Velvette had posted it online, but that was quickly off the cards when he noticed that not only were both of them watching him while laughing with no phones in their hands, but it was posted from his own fucking Sinstagram account.

It already had over a million likes, and it'd been up for only an hour at this point. His colleagues wrote surprised comments underneath, asking if he meant to post it. Valentino adding that Vox looked cute in it either way.

He could feel his fear and anger rising, loud zaps of electricity emitting from him already as his claws dug into either armrest of his desk chair, leaving long scratch marks on them which exposed the padding within.

Then he read the bottom caption of the looped post of himself and fully lost it.

'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here.'

Vox lets out a loud, enraged yell, slamming his fist on his desk, promptly causing himself to Bluescreen and knocking out much of Pentagram's electricity in the process despite not being plugged into his set-up.

-

On the other side of the city, you laugh loudly as you watch the press conference where the Tech demon overlord fought to clean up his image.

It began just a few minutes after you were exposed to Vox's rage in the form of your lights shutting off.

It didn't affect your setup, of course. A certain someone you knew had helped you craft it, and it ran on a different server.

While others were still waiting for their shit to get back in order after Vox stopped plastering his rather strained grin on every screen, you were watching the press conference in one window while admiring how quickly his men raced to try and patch up the code you'd gotten through last time in another.

Of course, it hardly would do anything for you the next time around you decided to clown on him.

You shifted into a cross-legged position on the floor, glancing between the mess of old and new monitors surrounding you all interlocking with equally messy and tangled cables.

You passively wondered if anyone had been killed during all this, expecting yes, but not paying much attention to it. You couldn't do anything about what he decided to pull in response to your attacks.

Anything for your entertainment.

You cracked your fingers loudly as you began to prepare for the next bag of shit you'd be leaving on his doorstep.

Snickering with a smile, you watched his hypnosis ability activate, manipulating everyone watching outside of your own eyes.

They would forget this, but you wouldn't. And neither would Vox. You'd make sure all of them remembered you eventually.

Snorts and giggles echoed out in the silence of your small, shitty apartment as you mulled over all the things you had planned for the next few months.

Jesus christ, this would be fun.

Yeah, this reader isn't a good person either. They just wanna fuck around with Vox as much as they can and don't care much who becomes cannon fodder in the process.

I was considering also writing pt. 2 into this as well, but I figured that I would do this as just a taster for this series starting for the first post. Pt. 2 will be soon 🙏

Why So blue Masterlist (not much here yet obv)

Main Masterlist

[gabessquishytum]

Ive been lurking for a long time just eating other peoples ideas but i cant get over sleazy pickup artist hob having this religious pussy experience from this weird goth he met at a bar just standing there silently like a mannequin. I would love it if dream was only this unearthly beauty to HOB. Literally NOBODY ELSE gets why this crying wet cat bewitched him body and soul... hob is a total conman on the internet manosphere bc he looks like Alpha Male and he just says some bullshit he makes up on the fly and starts pyramid schemes. He stumbles out of that hookup dazed and confused but feeling like he needs to buy a ring and perhaps commission a golden statue. Hes Different after. Like his accounts drop off activity for a good long while as he tries so desperately to find this Weird Fucking Guy hes not quite sure was human at this point and when people start noticing what hes doing hes an absolute laughing stock but hes too busy pulling all nighters red strings on the corkboard to care hes like an obsessed mad scientist in a monster movie. He goes to that bar EVERY NIGHT. For 100 days. Then his magnificent stranger walks back in and orders a glass of milk at the bar and hob is ready to simp for the rest of his fucking LIFE. Morpheus is this guys Actual Name and hob realizes he could have just like,, looked him up online if he believed morpheus when he told him the next morning then left while hob was in the shower. But dream shares that he doesn't have social media. Or a computer. Or a phone. He pulls out this ancient flip phone held together with scotch tape and willpower so hob can enter his number. He types with one index finger on hobs screen to enter his own. Hob is gifted his presence for another night of insane sex where he almost dies like twice and comes more times in a row than he has in his life. Dream is completely unaffected by literally any media attention and No One Gets The Appeal. Hes like a cryptid and everyone knows who HOB is seemingly BUT dream and he really doesnt care about any of the questions he gets. Usually just responds with some shit like "you could be learning a new hobby right now. Try oil painting, perhaps the clarinet." Its not even beer goggles bc hob is following after this freak like a puppy in the middle of the afternoon wearing all black and a long jacket in August while he picks out the specific peanuts from a big barrel he would like to feed the birds at the park today.

-🔪

Yeah I absolutely love the idea that Dream is a weird skinny gremlin to EVERYONE. Except for Hob. Hob thinks he's an angel, a beautiful ethereal creature, Dream has literally saved Hob’s soul from the torments of cringey redpill internet content. Hob walks around with heart eyes 24/7, basically waits on Dream hand and foot. He doesn't give a shit if he gets ripped on online - he doesn't go online anymore, he's way too busy staring at the way the light filters into Dream’s eyes.

He's so down bad for Dream’s pussy it's almost comedic. He'll get on his knees and bed to be allowed just a sniff, just a moment with his nose between Dream’s legs. He'd buy Dream’s bath water but he's so lucky he doesn't even have to!!! He gets it for free!!!

All this to say: they're both freaks, no body gets why they're Like That but true love finds a way!

[mayasaurusss]

being brought into lottie’s intentional community as a dance teacher to give her acolytes expressive arts therapy but noticing she never participates in the classes…so you get her alone and try to convince her to let go and dance with you

"Why do you never attend my dance classes?"

A gasp leaves Lottie and she puts a hand on her heart after you almost give her a heart attack. Lottie feels her blod run cold at your words, the shame of begin found out running through her veins, "I...uhm".

Months passed since you've been hired at Lottie's wellness centre. She had emailed you late at night, having seen your announcment online for your dance course. "Everyone needs to loose up a bit here" she wrote, "and I am sure this would be a great opportuinty for you too". Lottie had offered a great deal to you, paying you more than the course ever could and gave you a roof to sleep under. The lessons had started with the coming of spring and many had attended them. The first time the room in which you taught was overcrowded with people and you had to ask Lottie permission to teach outside. The dances ranged from quick to slow, from energetic to calm.

Many had loved your approach to teaching and came to attend your lessons regularly, hoping to blow off some steam or aimed to occupy their minds with joy. But not Lottie.

You adore Lottie. She's nice, calm, lovley and funny and you always love to spend time with her. But as the months grew colder so did her affection towards you. No matter how many times you asked, Lottie never came to your lessons. "It will be fun!" you say, but she quickly denies with the most unreasonables of excuses, "N-No I need to go buy heliotrope paint. For uhm, painting the crates...".

It's obvious that Lottie is avoiding you. You don't know why, you don't know how, but you sure as hell will find out.

You approached her at the end of the day. She had just ended one of her seminars and you had finished teaching hours ago. The room is dark except for a single light that shines down on where Lottie is gathering her things before heading out.

"So, why don't you?" Lottie gets increasly more uncomfortable as you repeat yourself, a thin tear of sweat falling from her temple. "Uh, I, you know I have been so busy recently...".

"Bullshit!" you shout at her, making her ears hurt and reel back, "I know you aren't! 'I need to go buy heliotrope paint for painting the crates' my ass! Those things have been left to rot for months now and just as I ask you to join my classess, you've suddenly got interested in them?!".

What you don't know is that for the last months, Lottie's been falling in love with you. It wasn't like that at first. She simply saw you as an employer, as a coworker, as a person and now as someone she falled deeply in love with. Her feelings were small at first, as they usually are. A little nod here, a small smile there and a little ache in her heart, as if it was pierced by a spine.

Then that wound got bigger: as the smiles and looks grew so did that warm feeling in her heart, so much that it pained her. When Lottie understood where her feelings came from, she got scared. She hadn't allowed herself to truly feel anything ever since she got back and to do so now would be childish. So she hides it.

She doesn't look at you, she doesn't talk to you, both in fear that wound of hers gets bigger and to see the hurt in your eyes. That is until you personally confront her.

"So, Lottie? Has the cat eaten your tongue?" that accusatory tone of yours only serves to make her blood run colder and colder. "Or do you simply not like me?" she can feel how hurt you are and an instinct inside her screams to confort you, to held you in her arms, to kis-.

"No, no! I swear it's not what it looks like" she begs for you to listen to her, for you to just let her-. "Then what is the problem, Lottie?" she can't find the right words, can't find the stenght to be thrutful to herself and you. So she lies, "I..." "I can't dance" she knows that the words come out wrong, a hint in her voice suggests that she's lying.

"What?" both you and her know that the conversation you're about to have is fake, built on her lie, but you let her speak. "I can't dance and I am embarassed to do so" she looks away from you so she can't see the doubt in your eyes. Lottie is about to walk away when you give your hand to hers.

"Take my hand" she looks at your palm for a moment, before asking, "W-What?" it's like her brain can't understand what's happening.

You try to send the message by moving your hand in front of her eyes, then sigh and taking it yourself. "Just...just shut up and take it" Lottie moves and now you grip at both her hands. Despite her towering over you, she's putty in your hands.

"So just follow my example, alright?" it takes Lottie a moment to understand what you mean, but once she feels you move she copies you, unsure of how to.

"One foot in front of the other" she is clumsy, hands shivering and feet twitching, the emotion of begin so close to you getting to her heart. "Alright, you're doing good" you try to reassure her but Lottie is lost in that world of hers, the one where nothing is real and it is still with her. She tries to remember what her therapist once said: 'You have to br-'

'There is nothing else besides you' your voice calls from the end of the room, people surrounding and listening to you. 'There is just you and your human emotions. Let go of anything that scares and worries you' for a moment Lottie's eyes look into yours and it's just the two of you alone. 'Be yourself'.

Something moves in Lottie's heart and all the worry and fear is washed away. Now she's the one leading the dance, strong but fair hands guiding you through the space. There is only you and her, dancing to a silent waltz in an empty room. The dance gets more heated by the minute, everything moves and sings and suddenly, it all stops.

Lottie arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your hand in hers. During the dance your bodies moved closer and closer, until you can feel her breath on your lips. "Lottie, I..." she interrupts you abruptly, harsh brown eyes staring into yours, "I lied".

"Y-you do seem to know how to dance after all..." but your joke doesn't reach her ears, "I think... I didn't want you to know". Words don't come out easy and a small feeling of panic rises in her heart, but she remembers your words 'Be yourself'.

"I think I am in love with you" you smile gently at her, enough to make everything else fade, "I know".

[killerpancakeburger]

Peace of mind // Miguel O'Hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x female reader

Summary: After a long day of tending to the multiverse, Miguel goes to you for some comfort.

Warnings: swearing.

Tags : fluff. That's it.

Words: 733.

A/N: Inspired by @/the-cat-and-the-birdie's post about Miguel's cooking.

You blindly reach inside the bag of chips on your desk without taking your eyes off your computer screen, grab one and eat it. Tonight’s your weekly online meeting with your friends on your favourite online game. You can’t afford to miss a single kill. You have your noise cancelling headphones on and are completely occupied by the things your companions are yelling are at each other and where your aim is.

It’s probably why, despite your usually sharp instincts, you don’t hear the interdimensional portal who opens in your living room. You don’t notice the imposing – yet looking like he’s buckling under an invisible weight – man in a faintly glowing suit who crosses it. You don’t spot him either when he gets behind you.

However you certainly can’t ignore his presence when he bends over your chair, closes his arms around you and lets his forehead fall on your shoulder.

“FUCK! Miguel! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!” you shout in shock.

He mumbles something unintelligible, his mouth pressed to your back. Your surprise has been clearly noticed by your friends as they don’t miss the opportunity to tease you for it. You grumble and mute your microphone.

You ruffle Miguel’s hair, taking the opportunity to mess it up a bit.

“So? Did something happen?”

He sighs and his warm breath tickles your skin.

“Can you please…?” He starts, but never finishes.

“Uh-Uh?”

You’re still playing your game, but way more casually, and even though you’re pretending to still be busy, you’re actually taking in Miguel’s every word.

“You know…”

“No, I don’t. Still can’t read your thoughts.”

“Urgh.”

There’s a part of you that finds this way of speech endearing but there’s an even bigger part of you that enjoys making Miguel works for it.

“…lay down with me for a bit?”

You pat his head in congratulations.

“There we go! Knew you could do it!”

“Stop it.”

He grunts. You turn your mic back on.

“Alright, game’s over for today. See you later”, you announce before logging off and taking off your headphone.

“Can you have a look at the code I wrote for Gizmo n° 564 before we do that?” you ask.

You pull up said code on your screen. Miguel doesn’t raise his head.

“It’s great”, he says.

“You didn’t even look at it”, you retort, slightly annoyed.

“I don’t need to.” He replies with that unsufferable indubitable arrogance of his.

“Oh really now?”

Your voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“You made it so it’s good.”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help being moved.

“I think I prefer when you’re brutally honest.” You mumble to yourself. “Did you eat today?”

His stomach grumbles loud enough for both of you to hear, effectively stopping him from bullshitting you. You chuckle.

“Should I order food?”

He grunts something that you know means no.

“Oh so you want my cooking? I’m so flattered”, you laugh, the both of you pertinently knowing that while he’s great at cooking, you… are not.

He finally gets up.

“Just do as I say.”

You get up, give him the chips from your desk, and head to the kitchen. Since your relationship with Miguel got more serious, aka him crashing at your place whenever he felt like it, there is always tortillas, sour cream and salsa verde in your fridge. You stop halfway realizing Miguel isn’t following and remember he moves like a zombie in this kind of situation, the situation being “I just spent 24 hours non-stop monitoring the multiverse without eating nor sleeping so now I am on the cusp of a breakdown”.  You turn back to grab his hand and bring him with you.

He leans against the counter as you take out of the fridge and cupboards what you need. You put on some music and make conversation as you tackle your tasks. Once you’re both fed, you go lay down with him on your bed. You hug him against your chest, delicately stroking his hair. He closes his eyes and looks relaxed for the first time since he arrived. You feel his chest raising and decreasing and listen to his steady breathing while contemplating your ceiling. When you know for certain that he’s deeply asleep, you get up as discreetly as you can, leave a kiss on his forehead and go back to your nightly occupations.

[dee-the-red-witch]

how did you get past “just being gnc”? asking for me, i’ve been in that mindset on and off for years. if you don’t mind sharing

I... okay, look, that's like a question with two other subtextual ones rolled up into it in a donut all at once. And I have an all-day road trip tomorrow, so I don't have a ton of spoons to spare, but I'm still gonna try and tackle all three. And I'm gonna hit the subtext questions first, because they're important and play into it. 1. What's a good way to come out as trans?

There fucking isn't one. For anyone of any gender. There is no perfect way for anyone to come out. It will always be awkward, there's always going to be some kind of price to pay, and you are never going to know that full price up front. It's also just about always less than the price of NOT coming out, though. 2. What's a good way for *ME* to come out as trans?

Okay, this one ties into my own story some, but the shorter version? I don't know. I can't tell you. Because I don't know your details and what's going to work for you or how. What I can tell you is that nobody is going to magically guess it for you, no one's going to give you permission to do it, and you're gonna have to start it yourself. There's folks that will absolutely help later down the line, but you have to initiate and start things, even if it's babysteps. Case in point... 3. ENOUGH SUBTEXT, DENICE, how'd YOU get past just being a guy?

It's complicated. I'd been in denial since the late 90's. so there was a LOT of personal bullshit, and art, and other work, and everything, packed up in and around my gender like mad. Like a wad of gum with a bunch of other stuff stuck to it- and sometimes when a piece finally got pulled free, part of the gum came up with it. Bad analogy, probably. Still. When I finished writing, and laying out, and publishing my first book (and practically screaming HI! IT ME! AM TRANS! in the afterword and other bits, because that's what happens when I write a historical horror novel with a GNC-transmasc-ish protag) I felt empty. Hollow. For months. I was trying and struggling to get a second book off the ground, and having this weight start settling over my head. Only it was like three months early for my usual denial ideation episode. Meanwhile, on facebook, my friend J who was dealing with the tail end aftershocks of a nasty divorce from an even nastier asshole. And of course she was going off about a very rational distrust and dislike of Men and some of their behaviors in particular, and I just had that goddamn black wave of ideation set in on me in full and was mentally internally screaming "But I'm not a fucking man!" and I did the one thing I'd never done in twenty plus years of dysphoria, denial and ideation. I said it out loud. Nobody in the apartment to even hear me. But I said it. And repeated it. And so help me, that depression/denial/ideation wave that I knew was going to end with me hurting myself or worse started immediately fading. I started switching my pronouns over to they/them on my social medias almost immediately. Like I said. Baby steps. But it was enough- one of my partners noticed the update and flat out asked me about it the next time she was over, and that's how I ended up coming out as nonbinary to both her and the rest of my immediate family. And a few days later online all over as well. Realizing I was a girl took a bit, because enby felt right, but not all the way right. I'd started t-blockers already because I knew I had dysphoria issues (just no idea how serious they were) and then started E. All of which was made easier by being in an informed-consent state and having a doctor who had zero issues with prescribing them, and more than a little bit of a mad scientist nature. Three days into Estrogen I just had this one weird moment of driving and hitting a sunny patch of road and suddenly I was happy and laughing in a way I'd NEVER been. That's when it started really clicking for me. When I realized that what had been holding me back was a lot of internalized shame and conditioning that I needed to unpack and get rid of. That's all where I started. (and yes, it meant a whole extra round of comings out and updates and everything, but well, here I am.) I hope that wall of text helps some? But yeah. Take baby steps. Things move from there as you figure it out. But you can't figure it out while you're holding yourself back.