#this was supposed to be a little psa about requests what am i doing here SHDKDKSK

[innielove]

I've been very busy for the past week and a half, but im going to start making the requested sets this week 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[starsofjewels]

GREETINGS!! was wondering if you feel up for it if you could do a tyrion x autistic reader? idk how you could make autism fit into the GoT world but I always feel like an outsider even in the real world and i feel tyrion would be one of the few who'd actually be accepting and not judgemental

A Kitty Cat in the Lion’s Den

Tyrion Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

(Feat.) Tywin Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Autistic meltdown, small! Mention of blood/ injury, self-deprecation, the Lannisters are their own warning

Word count: 1.5k (lil pookie bear)

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hi, beautiful. I absolutely loved this request !! This was only semi triggering to write, and I hope you like it. <3

I’ve just started back at college, so the drip might be dry (not that it wasn’t to begin with). I may or may not have published this during a Free Study period…

This is proof I don’t just write Gregor Clegane fics. But I do love big squishy man and his cock.

I think I probably need to make a masterlist..

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

(A teeny PSA before we begin- I, unsurprisingly given the shit I upload on here, am autistic. I’ve struggled with it my whole life, and this is an interpretation of my own experience with autism. ASD is, as the name suggests, a spectrum, so this can’t really be a generalised fic. I put my own personal experiences with my condition into this, so if you’re also autistic/ otherwise neurodivergent and this doesn’t fit your vibes, that’s why. I can’t really explain it any other way, so yeah, here you go.)

Your entire life has served as a reminder that, whether by your own fault or some cruel will of the Gods, you are not wanted. You are the outsider, the youngest Lannister, not beautiful enough to marry off young and, decidedly, not male. Lord Tywin is consistently busy with his duties as the Hand, Tyrion hides with his wines and his whores, and Jaime has his own place in the Red Keep. You are forced to sit with your sister and her ladies, who talk too loudly and prattle on about nonsense.

Cersei, you have long established, does not like you. You aren’t really sure anyone likes you, in the traditional sense, but you know that your sister only keeps you around for fear of Tywin’s wrath. There is something in the back of your mind that remembers a younger, softer Cersei putting you in her lap, of brushing your hair and putting it in gold bows. But, that was before. Before you could walk or talk properly, before you spouted random facts on unasked for topics, before she realised you were different.

Everyone knows you are different, and no one can explain why. Not even you. All they know is to stay away from you, all they know is they’ll never understand how your little mind works.

So, you sit as nicely as you can on the outside of Cersei’s circle of ladies, and you try to focus on your sewing. You don’t like sewing, but it’s what all of the noblewomen do to pass the time, and all you want is to fit in.

“Your sewing is coming on well, my lady.”

The septa tilts your sewing slightly to look at it just a little more. It’s supposed to be a gift for your father, and it is not good. You see every uneven stitch, all of the oddities and bumps in your work that make it so you can hardly look at it. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t even sew properly.

“The stitching is all wrong…”

She takes your hands as you try, again, to pick out your newest stitch, a learned behaviour with you. Despite being with you near your whole life, since you weaned off of your nurse, you aren’t sure the septa completely understands your fascination of perfection,

“It is fine,” Her voice is soft, but you can feel her disappointment, “you are still learning, my lady, some mistakes are natural. You do not need to pull it apart- again.”

You jump when Cersei’s ladies giggle at some joke you haven’t heard, the woman beside you takes your hand, and you are reminded why you keep her so close. At least, in some way, she understands what you like and what upsets you.

Tea is served for the ladies. They give you what Cersei likes, what her ladies eat, green and red things that squish and squelch in your mouth and taste like you’ve eaten rags. And the queen sees you push them around your plate, and scoffs.

“At least try it, sister,” She sips from her wine. You feel each of her noblewomen shift, in turn, to look at you, “a Lannister lady can’t just survive off of the children’s food you eat, we can’t all eat nothing but cakes and plain bread all day.”

But you don’t, and you starve. Tywin will get you something later, you’re sure of it, as he sighs, and gently suggests you’ll need a more varied diet if you’re to marry a good husband.

The women’s giggles practically turn to cackles, which do not stop for what feels like hours. You wish they’d stop, or that you could understand what they find so utterly hilarious, so at least you may join their hysteria. You’ve put your sewing down in your lap, and you fiddle with your hair. The sept doesn’t like that, she guides your work back into your hands.

“Your father doesn’t like it if you mess your hair, sweet girl, you know that,” Her hands find your hair, carefully untangling the knots you’ve made, “try a few more stitches.”

And then, inevitably, it happens. You prick your finger on your needle, and a soft ruby comes from your noble, incomprehensible skin.

Throwing your project to the ground, you rush off as fast as your legs can manage. No one comes to find you.

You are long practised with the subtle art of trying not to cry. You pace back and forth, away from anything and everything, your hands in your hair as you do. The tears in your eyes hurt, they make you tired, and only add to your humiliation. You can do nothing right, why can you do nothing right?

You think of your sister, of perfect, beautiful, poised Cersei- She has a gaggle of women to do her bidding she is loved, and desires and you doubt she paces the halls trying not to cry. She is the lion queen, and you are her kitty-cat of a sister.

And then, you hear your name called. Followed by hurried footsteps toward you. Tyrion takes your hands in his, but you cannot even look at him.

“Has someone upset you? Cersei?”

All you can do is give him whines in response. You feel a sob bubbling in your throat, and you cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Tell me.”

So you look down, you watch his eyes change from confusion, to the pity you are so used to seeing. But he is your older brother, and you know he won’t run back to Cersei, like Jaime would.

It comes in one, huge splurge, as tears fall against your skin and ruin the pretty powders your maids spent so long putting on you this morning,

“I- Was making a gift for Father-” You gasp, “And they didn’t give me anything to eat, and- and the sewing was terrible, but Septa is lying and saying it’s good and-” Another. “And I cut myself!”

His arms wrap around you, and he puts his head against you. Though much smaller than you, it offers greater comfort than he knows it does. All you can do is sob. You feel like a child.

No words are spoken as he takes you down to the kitchens, and puts you at the staff table. You are given something you eat with relish, and get a plate of pudding for your effort. There is no need for you to have any medical attention for your injury, but he has it wrapped anyway. A psychological comfort, if nothing else.

Tyrion helps you into bed, letting you reach out for the rag dolls your sister claims you’re too old for. You want your father, you want him to go and tell off Cersei, but you have your brother instead, and he at least semi-understands what it’s like to be different.

“I’m sorry,” you turn and look up at him,

“Sorry?”

He stands, walking to your window to look out at the courtyard below.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

Tyrion is going somewhere with this, you know that much, but what, you are left wondering,

“I see… my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But the world? What does the world see? They see a drunk, lustful little man with a lion on his chest he doesn’t deserve.”

Something in you knows that it’s true. Tyrion is nothing more than his condition to the eyes of most in the Keep, most of the kingdom.

“You, you look like a Lannister. Your brokenness is inside. And I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s alright-” You sit up, clutching your doll, “It’s just… what it is. I have you, I have Father.”

Tyrion almost scoffs, he comes back from the window, passing you your water,

“Yes, you get Father, but that’s because you are utterly adorable.”

“I am adorable, aren’t I?”

“And humble, it appears.”

When Tyrion leaves, he kisses your forehead, and you know he is going to tell Father. You are the one thing they share something of a common interest in, and you suspect Tywin will make an appearance at some point. You’re right, of course.

It is Tywin’s heartbeat you listen to to calm yourself down for sleep. Your father strokes your hair, half-dozing himself. A soft, sweet moment that you are reminded Tyrion doesn’t have the privilege of.

Cersei is no longer allowed to be your main caretaker, you spend your afternoons out in the gardens, or sit entertaining yourself in Tywin’s solar. Tyrion takes you on walks, and there is something of a peaceful normality brought about.

You are still terribly disappointed in how Tywin’s gift turns out, it looks like a child made it, and when you become obviously quite upset over the manner, you have the Old Lion and his younger son to calm you. He loves it, he assures you, and Tyrion is so enamoured by it he requests his own. You know they are simply making you feel better, but you let it happen anyway.

And, perhaps, life is not so bad after all.

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

I posted 1,399 times in 2022

That's 1,051 more posts than 2021!

620 posts created (44%)

779 posts reblogged (56%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@karamelcoveredolicity

@troubleinapinksuit

@dearaustinbutler

@sagesolsticewrites

@austinbutlerr

I tagged 1,365 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#elvis - 427 posts

#answered - 411 posts

#elvis 2022 - 329 posts

#austin butler - 208 posts

#elvis gifs - 157 posts

#dirty deeds - 114 posts

#milasthings - 78 posts

#milas thirsty thursday - 74 posts

#fic recs - 49 posts

#milaselviscontent - 49 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#also a psa to everyone whether youre into dudes or not there is nothing more comfortable than sleeping in an extra large men's tshirt

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

🍁 Autumn & Halloween Prompt List 🎃

It's about to get spoopy up in here. We wanted to do something special not only to celebrate everyone's favorite season but also to honor the amazing writers and creators on Tumblr.

Most of us are creators of some kind — whether that be writers, gifmakers, or artists — and this time of year is hard. We start running into fatigue + the scariest thing during the whole Halloween season: creator's block.

✨ Cue the prompt list ✨

This prompt list is split into three groups: dialogue, scenario, and NSFW prompts. Each section has 31 prompts which are sorted with more general autumn themes first and Halloween-specific prompts after that.

A HUGE HUGE thank you to Shawni (@austin-butlers-gf), Sage (@fangirlwithasweettooth), Kenzie (@fangirl-imagines), & Gabby (@dontbesussis) for helping to create this lovely list!

Feel free to reblog + use for whatever it is that you create and post here on Tumblr! Happy Halloween and enjoy 👻 ♥️

DIALOGUE

[ prompts with / indicate that both characters A + B have lines ]

“You have a leaf in your hair.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Why don’t you take off that mask? I’d like to see your face.”

“You’re scared of that, really?”

“That’s your favorite candy? You have shit taste.”

“Promise not to laugh at me if I scream.”

“My friend abandoned me at this Halloween party and I don’t know anyone. But you look as miserable as I feel.”

“If you can’t summon flames directly from hell, store-bought is fine.”

“It says take one, love.”

“Well…you grabbed my hand first.”

“Oh, I see. Is someone a little scared?”

“I spent so long in the darkness I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.”

“You’re the devil in disguise.”

“Nice try. You’ll have to work harder to scare me.”

“I know you’re trying to be scary, but you’re just way too cute.”

“I couldn’t find a costume, so I just decided to go as your [partner/bf/gf].”

“You’re a scaredy cat.” / “I am not!”

“Boo!” / “You were scarier with the mask off.”

“What are you supposed to be?” / “It isn’t obvious?”

“Ew candy corn?” / “What? This candy is hated for no reason. It’s good!”

“That kind of scared me.” / “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

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514 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

#4

My Bestest Girl

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: No

Prompt: You have a nightmare but your husband is always there to comfort you when you need him. Feat. a spicy ending. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: mentions of sex

Rating: Pg-13     ||     Word Count: 1030

A/N: I swear this morphed into like 3 different things as I was writing it. Part 2...maybe? Smut is coming cause i can't control myself, i just don't know when 😂

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You’re running like you’ve never run before. One foot replaces the other faster than you can even think and you feel a pain from somewhere, but you can’t place it exactly. Your chest heaves and you feel panic spreading throughout your body. The darkness around you starts to cave in. There are no walls, but you feel them crushing down on you anyway. Although you try to push them back, they only come faster. The horrific, distorted face of someone you don’t recognize appears floating in the darkness, and your heart lurches as-

Suddenly, you’re awake, sweating and shaking a little in the bed. It takes a moment for you to return to reality and remember where you are and that you’re safe.

“Baby?” Elvis’ deep, smooth voice comes out raspier than usual. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You curl your arms around your knees, and your husband leans up. The bed shifts under his weight as he scoots toward you and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“What’s the matter, baby girl?” he asks again, rubbing your shoulder and tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

You look at him in the dark. His blue eyes peer tenderly back, his eyebrows knitted in concern. Although his hair is disheveled, he still looks as handsome as the day you married him. Something in the way he’s gazing so intently at you draws your tears out. You fall back into his arms and start to sob. The cold air in the bedroom freezes your tears as they trickle down your cheeks. His grip loosens and then retightens to bring you all the way into his lap, and you bury your face into his shoulder. His skin is warm and smooth, and you feel terribly guilty for wetting his beautiful chest with your ugly tears.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “Come ‘ere and let me hold ya. Everything’s gonna be aright. Shhh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

You let your body go limp in his strong embrace, and you feel completely supported. The way he rubs your back and squeezes you just a little too tightly makes you feel like nothing in the world would dare try to hurt you. He presses a few kisses to your sweaty forehead. As you heave to a normal breath, Elvis leans back and moves your hair out of your face so he can see your eyes.

“You’re my bestest girl, you know that?”

“I thought your mama was your bestest girl,�� you sniffle with a small smile.

Elvis smiles back, wipes a stray tear from your cheek, and then shakes his head.

“She’ll always be my first girl, but you became my bestest girl the day I married ya,” he says, and you smile so hard it hurts. “Now, tell me what’s goin on. D’ya have a nightmare?”

You nod.

“What about, baby girl?”

“I was trying to run away from something and it wasn’t working,” you say, feeling tears well up again. “I couldn’t see exactly what it was but I just know I was terrified of it. As I was running, the hallways started to get smaller and smaller like they were squeezing me to death.”

“Well that don’t sound like fun, baby. But hey, look,” he responds, taking your hand in his. He flips your palm so that it’s facing the ceiling and curls his own fingers over yours. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for ya. Ain’t nothing gonna hurt you while I’m here.”

He squeezes your fingers and smiles down at you. You glance up at him in the moonlight and gently touch his cheek. He leans into your hand, and you brush the lines around his smiling mouth with your thumb. You pull him toward you and press your lips to his. As you kiss him, his arm snakes around your back and pulls you against his chest. You wind your hands around his neck and back, spreading your fingers to absorb as much of his warmth as possible.

He pulls back for a moment to gaze into your eyes before kissing your cheek and your neck. He brings you into a big bear hug. Your legs reposition to hug his waist, and you throw your arms over his shoulders. As you squeeze out your stress, he peppers kisses all over your neck and shoulders.

You feel him kiss the top of the strap of your nightgown and then pause. You turn to look at him. He stares at the strap with an angry expression for a moment before quickly moving it out of the way, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, and putting it back. He nods as if he’s pleased with the job he’s done. You throw your head back to laugh, but he takes the opportunity to assault your undefended neck with kisses. His breath tickles your skin, and you giggle, playfully trying to push him away. After a few moments, he stops, kisses your jaw sweetly, and meets your eyes.

“You feelin any better?” he asks, and you nod enthusiastically.

“Much. Thank you. I love you,” you respond in a whisper.

See the full post

545 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

#3

ASG - Part Two: Burnin' Love

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: Yeah, by me 💀

Prompt: Elvis sweeps Bird outside to the lake to cool down on a hot day. Spoiler, she doesn't cool off, but it’s not the temperature that has her sweating. [ Fem!OC ]

TW: Nothing tbh? this is vanilla af

Rating: M     ||     Word Count: 4442

A/N: this might be my favorite smut that i've ever written...

This is Part 2 of ASG. Find the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

She happens to be passing through the living room when a knock on the door comes. She's suddenly very pleased to be the one who opens it since Elvis is standing on the other side. It's been a week or so since their little walk and they've managed to see each other a couple of times. Mostly, he would walk her home after work. Paranoid that someone would see her and tell her father, Bird hasn't let anything happen that would have been too scandalous. Elvis respects her wishes and she appreciates it.

“Elvis?”

“Hi baby, how ya doin’?” he asks, smiling and stepping inside the house.

She curls her fingers into her palms and then grabs him by the shirt sleeve.

“This a nice house ya got he-”

He cuts off when she harshly drags him into a corner of the room, behind a bookcase.

“Thank you, but I’d appreciate it if ya didn’t alert my daddy your presence,” she responds, glancing out from behind a stack of books to see if her father is anywhere near. When she swivels back around, she jumps back at how close Elvis is to her face.

“Why not, baby girl?”

His arms wind around her waist and start to pull her toward him. She sucks in a breath and clenches her jaw, trying to keep his hands off her.

“Because he’ll probably kill ya,” she responds, glancing around again. “He don't like greasers or singers. Or anyone who ain't a devout Christian.”

“Well good news for ya daddy, I am a devout Christian.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not nearly devout enough for my daddy. ”

“Well if we ain’t gonna have any fun in this house, let’s get outta here then,” he says, nuzzling his face into her neck. She stifles a giggle.

“Stop that! What would we even do?” she asks.

“We could go for a walk,” he says, kissing her jaw, “or look at the record store,” he kisses her neck, “I don’t care where we go as long as I’m with you.”

She finally manages to release him from her neck and smile.

“It’s too damn hot for all that,” she replies, feeling a streak of bold lust. “We could go down to the lake? That oughta cool us off.”

“Ain’t nothing in the world that could cool you off, mama.”

“Just go,” she says, flushing. She pushes him toward the door. “Before daddy sees you. Or worse, sees me with you.”

See the full post

563 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

#2

ASG - Part Four: All Shook Up

Character/Fandom: Elvis - ELVIS (2022)

Requested: yes! - anons

Prompt: When Gladys Presley invited Bird up to Graceland to work as a cook in the house, she had mixed feelings. But in order to support herself and your daddy, she moved up to Memphis anyway. Things have been awkward between her and Elvis, but strange things are happening every day and, not surprisingly, Elvis has her all shook up again. [ Fem!OC ]

TW: Angst, smut, cursing, a little physical aggressiveness + i think that's it!

Rating:  M, this is good stuff baby  ||     Word Count: 16,293 🥴

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE!! I have never worked harder on a fic tbh, and the dialogue in this one hits so hard. Yes, the one part is inspired by that scene in Dirty Dancing — you know the one. Sorry for taking FOREVER, but I really hope y'all enjoy it!

This is Part 4 of ASG. FInd the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

This is a BIG boi + it’s special, so pls read these notes:

This is super long, so I put little PAGE BREAKS in places where you can pause reading. Please take advantage of them!

Deadass made a PLAYLIST to enhance your reading experience. It's in order + should flow with the plot. But depending on reading speed, it might be off, and that's totally okay! If you want the true experience, I've written where to jump + play certain songs in the fic. This is obvi totally optional!!!

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“I jus don’t know what to do bout it,” Gladys says, running a hand over her face. “They’re makin fun of my baby all over town. And probably all over the country, too.”

“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Presley,” Bird responds, taking a bowl of something warm from her fingers. “I can always go back home if this is a bad time.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, honey,” she replies in her thick southern drawl. “We love havin you over. You don’t know how nice it is to have another woman in this damn house.”

Bird smiles painfully as she watches Gladys reach for a beer.

A lot has happened since Elvis had broken Bird's heart and left her sobbing on the floor of her house in Louisiana. It was almost five months later when she received a call from Gladys Presley. She had been shocked to hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line. She’d called to ask if Bird wanted to come up to Memphis and move in with the family. One of their cooks had quit and Gladys couldn’t find anyone who cooked southern-style food the way she liked it. Bird knows she'd taken quite a liking to her. Whenever Elvis had brought her home for dinner, just a handful of times, Bird was always willing to help.

Anyway, she did always have a knack for cooking, especially those delicious southern-style comfort dishes. She had originally refused, but when Gladys called twice more and offered to pay Bird handsomely, it wasn’t really a conversation anymore. She and daddy were struggling after he turned to alcohol for comfort and wasn't working as much as usual. Bird had picked up an extra job at the diner in town while still working at the hayride. She'd been working herself to death, but with the Presley’s money she can help support herself and her father without having to break her back.

Plus, she’d offered.

Bird is always incredibly nervous about seeing Elvis, especially after everything that has happened. But she didn't know what else to do. It was too good of a deal for her. So, she'd packed up some of her belongings and moved up to Memphis, leaving daddy at home by himself.

Mr. and Mrs. Peachtree, the Presley’s neighbors, welcomed her into a small guest house in their backyard. Gladys had offered for her to stay at Graceland, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Being so close to him and not being able to have him. It was all too painful, too regretful. And she knew Elvis wouldn’t want her there, anyway.

It really hasn’t been all that bad. The money is good, the amenities are nice, Mr. and Mrs. Peachtree are always warm and welcoming toward her. Gladys has been surprisingly like a surrogate mother in many ways. She’s been protective over her, frequently asking how Bird's getting on at the house and whether the Peachtrees are treating her right. She's even asked how bird's father is a time or two, even though Bird get the feeling Gladys doesn’t like him much. You can’t blame her. She’d even let Bird have a few sips of beer, despite the fact that she was still underage. That’s something her father would never allow her to do, even if you were of legal age.

“I just hope he’s doin aright,” Gladys continues. “That damn Colonel is always tellin him what to do.”

Bird keeps her mouth shut but raises her eyebrows in agreeance. Despite sympathizing with her, Bird doesn't feel like it’s her place to say anything about the family. Not to mention this entire conversation is still a sore spot since she's convinced that the Colonel is the reason for her breakup with Elvis.

“Oh lord they’re home! My poor baby!” Gladys shouts, glancing out the windows.

Speak of the devil, himself. Bird joins Gladys at the window, watching the familiar dark purple 1956 Cadillac Eldorado drive slowly up the path to the house. There has been a crowd outside for hours now, and the noise is driving her crazy.

The dinner isn’t even finished cooking yet, but Elvis and Mr. Presley would be bursting through the front door any minute now. They’re coming back from New York where Elvis had been on the Steve Allen show. Long story short, the performance was a disaster. He’d been put onstage in full-length tailcoats and forced to sing to a hound dog. An actual hound dog.

Bird watched at home with the Peachtrees, squeezing a pillow tightly. She'd felt especially awkward in recent days. She likes the Peachtrees very much, but they are made of old money and she knows they have mixed feelings about the Presleys. Mrs. Peachtree has been adamant that Elvis isn’t the type of boy young girls should be looking up to. And she used his “Hound Dog” performance as ammunition to prove her point. Bird bites her tongue whenever the Peachtrees begin to badmouth him. And she pretends not to know about all of the rude things the other neighbors whisper about the Presleys behind their backs.

Just as the car parks, Bird quietly dips back into the kitchen to help Alberta, the other cook, with the rest of the food. But mostly to avoid Elvis. She does that a lot nowadays, avoiding, and she doesn't even want to think about the first time he’d discovered her at the house. Apparently, Gladys had neglected to tell her son that his ex-sweetheart would be coming up to work in the house.

See the full post

645 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ASG - Part One: A Southern Gentleman

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: No, but it is deserved

Prompt: Bird's old friend, Elvis, looks a lot different than she remembers - a lot hotter, that is. Can she control herself as he walks her home like a good southern gentleman? [ Fem!OC ]

TW: None!

Rating: Pg-13     ||     Word Count: 1484

A/N: He's obviously not dating Dixie in this version. Damn...I really don't know what to do with myself. I used to have a crush on Austin a long time ago, but it's been rekindled like 2 million times stronger. Austin w/ dark hair just hits different 😩

This is Part 1 of ASG. Find the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

She’s folding an extra towel in the wings of the stage when a flash of pink silk catches her attention. She glances up just long enough to see a guitar and a pair of fancy black and white shoes. She shrugs, going back to finish her work and thinking nothing of it for the time being.

“He’s a young singer from Memphis, Tennessee,” the announcer’s voice booms around the building. “Give a warm hayride welcome to a Mr. Elvis Presley.”

Her head snaps up when she hears the name. Elvis?? She had gone to elementary school down in Mississippi with a boy named Elvis. It couldn’t possibly be the same boy…could it? She hurriedly finishes folding up the towels she’s working on and quietly sneaks behind the edge of the stage curtains. As she peers out at the tall young man standing at the microphone, she’s sure it can’t be him. The little boy she had known was blonde, skinny, and bony.

“It goes something like this…” the singer mumbles into the microphone. He continues to mutter a little bit of a song.

“Get a haircut, buttercup!” yells a man from the crowd.

Before she gets a chance to think again, he begins to sing. Like…really sing. His voice is strong and forceful, like nothing she’s ever heard before. She watches from the wings and can’t help but smile as he wiggles, dances, and moves around on the stage. His voice is incredible, deep and smooth. But the way his body moves, she has never seen anything like it before. Some girls in the crowd begin to holler, scream, and yelp. she bites her own lip and holds back a smile as she watches the silky pink fabric dance along his body.

Not before long, the entire crowd of women is leaning toward the stage and shrieking. As he reaches back into the crowd, some of the girls even pull at his clothes and the pink suit jacket lifts off his frame. As he stumbles back behind the curtains, a woman yells from the crowd. Bird peers around the curtain and catches a second’s glimpse of her: an older lady with dark hair. She knows this woman. She’s seen her before...

The sound of laughter near her catches Bird’s attention and her eyes land on the back of the singer’s frame as he walks away. Before she can stop herself, she speaks up.

“Elvis??” she asks, gripping the curtain tightly.

The tall figure pauses for a moment before a handsome face emerges from the shadows. She can’t help but smile. The moment she meets his sea blue eyes, the recognition spreads across his face. He lets out a breathy chuckle and smiles sweetly.

“It really is you…” she mumbles.

“Bird?? It can’t be…” he asks in a voice deeper than she expects. She releases her death grip on the curtain and reaches down to smooth her skirt.

He hands his guitar off to a bandmate and walks toward her. As he comes closer, she can smell him – a mix of sweat, musk, and something sweet like cinnamon. It’s almost intoxicating. She reaches out to steady herself on a table.

“What the hell are you doin’ up here?” he asks.

“Daddy got transferred up ‘ere, so we moved. I work 'ere,” she responds. “What are you doin up here? I almost didn’t recognize ya. You were blonde last I saw.”

“Yeah,” he replies, dropping his head to rub the back of his neck. A few strands of dark black hair fall over his forehead, and she has the urge to brush them away but she resists. “Well, how bout you, I mean, you’re all grown up now. Look at ya…”

She flushes as he gestures at her body. He leans on the wall near her, positioning his body diagonally. She takes a deep breath, quickly glancing at his flexing bicep. He tilts his head to look at her, and she catches his eyes tracing her figure up and down.

“You’d better get going, Bird,” one of her coworkers says as they pass by. “Your daddy won’t be happy if you get home late again.

“Oh damn,” she mutters, glaring through the cracked glass of her old wristwatch. “Well…I’d better start back. You 'member how daddy is.”

As she turns to reach for her sweater, his hand catches her wrist.

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647 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

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[your-daily-biaswrecking]

I wanna say that namjoons dad bestfriend drabble was so freaking hot….🥵🥵🥵 maybe part 2? 🙏 when they make out in family house of yn? And her dad is next room 👀 i am so dirty pls forgive me😂

can't believe it took me so long to answer this... okay, so, my requests are not open but i decided to clear up my inbox a bit, starting with this one. as for this part 2... i know it could have been just a short scene with pure smut, but i wanted the drama of the plot, okay? also i'm not doing another psa: this is wrong and pls don't do this, it's just fiction

part 1

Namjoon knew he had to stop this. This... Whatever it was the two of you had. He had found excuses to come see you multiple times throughout the winter, always missing you too much and being unable to stay away for too long. But when you surprised him, secretly coming back to your hometown to be with just him for a week, he wasn't as happy. It was the first reminder of how different your worlds were; he was a grown man minding his career, at an age where he should be seeking marriage and kids. And you? You were skipping school to see your crush.

"I think my daughter has a boyfriend," his best friend casually told him one day soon after that. Namjoon froze, his heart the only thing reacting to those words. But his friend went on nonchalantly, pointing to his ignorance. "I don't mind, of course. I've only told her one thing, and it's not to get pregnant. I don't want her to go through what her mother and I went through, you know? She's at this age... you know? She needs to enjoy her age."

Namjoon... The grown man who should be seeking marriage and kids was fucking this girl. All those times he came inside you, filling you up a little too aggressively– as if deep down he wished he'd knock you up and keep you to himself forever.

He had to end this.

When he told you those same words –you need to enjoy your age, you need to be with a peer– you seemed more mad than hurt. But perhaps you understood. You weren't stupid, you too knew this was wrong. Perhaps you were just waiting for it to happen, waiting for the excitement of doing something against the rules to die out and the realization of the responsibility to hit him. You didn't blame him. But you were still annoyed. Stopped talking altogether, the only news he got from you now came from your father. You did get a boyfriend, or so he was told. And you were doing well with your studies and you were generally living a great student's life.

Summertime and you were here again. Along with your so-called boyfriend. Namjoon was so pissed off when he saw the skinny, mussy, sweaty boy that seemed to either be very slow or high off his ass all the time. And you seemed pleased with yourself.

"You really had to bring him here?"

You chuckled– an evil laugh, he thought. "I thought you'd be happy to see me dating someone my age." When your eyes met his, you made him feel like your positions were switched. So confident while he was almost throwing a tantrum. "What about you?" you asked. "Dating anyone your age?"

On that topic, Namjoon had more than enough women showing interest. And your father, for some reason, was dead set on finding him a wife. All those blind dates he had to escape from! He was simply not interested. He didn't want to admit it was because he was still thinking about you; that no one else would ever be a good replacement for you. He didn't want to because he didn't plan on coming back to you; he had to be the adult, the mature one, and stay away. It was the logical and the right thing to do. He didn't want to admit that, despite all of his intelligence and reason, he still thought about you... Because if he did this would no longer be just some attraction, just some fucking around. If he admitted it was more, what would happen then?

No... this was good. You had already moved on. Enjoying your life the way you were supposed to, a life he had no room to be in. All he had to do now was follow your example.

"Namjoon..."

That text was sent past 2 am on a rainy night in October. The only text he had gotten from you in months. That was all it said yet it made his stomach tight as if you had moaned his name in his ear. As if he knew exactly why you had texted him; needy in the middle of the night, that measly boy surely unable to satisfy you, knowing exactly who could help you at that moment. Fuck... Perhaps if he replied right then things would go back to how they were a year ago. He didn't. And you didn't text him again.

"Joon! You are staying for the holidays, right? You should spend Christmas with us." Your father was more than happy to share that day meant to be with family, with his best friend. Namjoon was like family anyway, wasn't he? When he tried to come up with an excuse, the other insisted. "See? If you were married now you would have someone to spend Christmas with, but you're not, so you'll come to spend it with our family. My daughter's coming home tomorrow, too. Ah. Could you pick her up 'cause–"

"No. I can't. Too busy."

The man laughed. "It's okay. But I am expecting you for dinner on Christmas!" he said with a pointing finger. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

And so there he was. Sitting right across from you at the table. In the months that had passed, you had gained some weight and he thought you had never looked better. Your face a little fuller, your jeans straining against your round thighs and hips, your breasts fitting your curves just right. The body of a grown woman. All Namjoon could think about was feeling you against him again. And he was mad again... Did your stupid boyfriend have the chance to fuck you like that? He didn't deserve you.

"You didn't bring that boy with you this time..." he commented.

"What, Eric?" your mother answered for you. "They broke up."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, eyes never leaving yours. "Really? How come?"

The corner of your lips turned upwards. "He was just... Too much of a kid."

He hated the way he sighed in relief, the way excitement bubbled in his stomach. He shouldn't be as happy to hear that as he was... He glanced at you again, your hair that had grown longer pushed back to expose your neck. It was getting harder and harder for Namjoon to keep his mind from wandering off to inappropriate things. Along with other parts getting hard.

And then your father spoke. "Joon. You know she's graduating next month, right?" His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead because no– no, he didn't know that. "She's looking for an internship and I thought–"

"Dad..."

"–you could help her get in your company? Maybe you could put in a good word for her?"

"Dad!" Your tone and the way your eyes widened towards your father's way betrayed the fact that the topic hadn't been new, and that you were clearly against the idea.

He looked at you until you finally turned back to face him. And surprising both himself and you, he said: "Yes, of course."

"I'm going to sleep," you announced after the dinner was over and you had helped clean up the table. You gave Namjoon a long glance before you disappeared down the hallway. Your parents had moved to the couch, TV on for some music and a game of cards keeping them busy when their friend asked to go to the bathroom. And you heard a soft knock on your door. "I'm assuming you know that's the wrong door you're knocking at," you spoke before you opened. Already in your sleeping outfit that consisted of an oversized t-shirt and just your panties.

"You knew it was me?" Namjoon whispered, eyes still stuck on your thighs.

"My parents don't knock."

You let him in, closing the door behind you and leaning on it as you looked up at him through your lashes. You both stayed silent for a moment, your breaths the only thing filling the empty, badly lit room. You noticed how he wet his plump lips and bit them while he was examining your face. So close you could smell his aroma, the one you never forgot.

“You don’t have to… you know,” you spoke, referring to your father’s idea. “I know you want to avoid me.”

Namjoon exhaled from his nose as if he was annoyed. “I- It’s not that I want to…”

“I know.” You gulped, finding your mouth wetting too much at the wish of kissing him, along with other parts getting wet. “You don’t want to— you have to.” You dared place your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling away, he leaned into your touch. Feeling his heart beat fast under your fingertips like the way he was breathing. He was slowly losing his mind but he knew he wasn’t the only one. “You don’t have to push me away,” you continued in a low tone. “I know what I’m doing. I’m the one coming to you.”

“Little one…” he rasped, and it had you catching a moan in the back of your throat. Oh, how you longed for his pet names, his voice calling to you lovingly. He stepped even closer. He knew he shouldn’t be there, he shouldn’t be doing this right now… But how could he stop? He wanted you so bad. His hands cupped your cheeks, lips just a breath away from yours, brushing against you as he whispered: “Come work with me… I wanna see you every day.”

The fabric of his shirt pooled in your palms as you grabbed him, closing the tiny gap between you. Both of you sighing in a mixture of relief and impatience as your lips crushed together. The softness only lasted a few seconds before you were moaning and Namjoon was pinning you on the door, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue in like he was trying to devour you. Your arms wrapped around him while his hands traveled down your body, groping you like you were his stress relief toy. Your hips, your ass… He broke the kiss and buried his face in your neck.

“Ah- daddy,” you whined, grinding on him.

Namjoon felt like he was about to cry. “I missed you so much!” he choked out right before latching his teeth on your skin. Your naughty fingers were struggling to unzip his pants quickly and it made him chuckle instead of sob. “Fuck—” he growled. And he pulled back to stare at you with dark eyes. “Such a little slut, so desperate for my cock.” There he was; the Namjoon you knew so well. His words made you shiver.

“Please, daddy. I need you right now.”

He placed a hand on the door right next to your head, while he freed his dick with the other. “Your parents are right outside.”

Ignoring his words, you discarded your panties and took him in your hand, biting your lip. “I can’t wait any longer, need you to fuck me right now, plea-ase!” you whined a little too loud and Namjoon growled, grabbing your legs and lifting you until you straddled his waist, back on the door.

“Gosh, you’ll get daddy in big trouble, baby.” Tip of his cock brushing your wet folds, making your mouth drop. “They might come looking for me.”

“Quick,” you sobbed. “Be quick, please, just— ah!”

He slipped inside and you both gasped. Your legs were shaking at the feeling, eyes rolling back and a moan as quiet as you could manage rumbled through your neck. He got as deep as he could, face scrunching as if he was in pain. You kissed him.

“I’ve missed you, daddy. I’ve missed this so much.”

His head was spinning as he was trying to find the right words, the words that could describe exactly how he felt about you. “I- I-”

Laughter echoed through the house— your mother. You both froze. Namjoon glanced at the doorknob, and then he grabbed it; your parents could walk in at any moment. He didn’t stop though, nothing could stop him now. He angled his hips and started thrusting into you; fast and sloppy because the clock was ticking.

“Daddy…” you mewled, unable to do or say anything else.

Namjoon clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh,” he demanded. “You better not start screaming like the little whore you are, or they’ll hear us.”

His words had the opposite effect of what he wanted; making you moan harder. And the fact that he had his big hand over your mouth made you not care to keep quiet. Your choked whines along with the wet sounds of his dick slipping in and out of you could definitely be heard from the other side of the door, perhaps even from that couch your father was on had it not been for the music.

“Shit, you—” he growled. He finally dropped his hand from your mouth, wanting to grab your ass to lift you higher, fuck you better.

Your head fell on his shoulder before you decided to bite down on it to stop yourself from screaming as Namjoon’s thick dick drilled into you with no mercy. “So-o good…”

“Yeah?” He sounded out of breath already, yet cocky. “Did you forget what it’s like to have a real man fuck your pussy, baby? That little boy didn’t do shit, did he? He can’t fuck you as good as daddy, right?”

Your nails dug in his back and you felt your brain so rotten like he was about to fuck you to sleep. “I… don’t know…” you mumbled.

Namjoon stopped. He pulled his head slightly back but he couldn’t see your face. “What?” Your body squirmed, trying to chase that high he had just denied you. “What do you mean—”

“I don’t know what he was like,” you whined. “I only thought of you.”

Another laughter, loud voices coming from that couch. It didn’t scare him that much this time, his heart was already racing and he only gave that direction a glance before he was pulling your head back to look into your eyes. Only then did he notice the tear stains on your cheeks, and you sobbed, choked as he thrust into you again.

“I only thought of you, daddy…” you repeated with a whimper. And it had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, pumping into you a couple more times, hard, before he spilled his seed deep inside.

A whisper. “Fuck…” Panting and groaning as he was trying to come to, and you watching his glistening face as he grimaced and bit his lip. He let you down, resting his forehead on the door while he still struggled to collect himself, and you basked in the pride it gave you. You tucked him back in his underwear and zipped him up with a smirk on your lips, seeing how he finally started to be able to focus his eyes on you.

You opened the door slightly and peeked out; your parents were still playing cards on the couch, they didn’t notice you just like they probably hadn’t noticed how long Namjoon was gone for.

“You should go back,” you whispered as you came back into the room. Namjoon kissed you quickly like he was trying to catch you off guard. And then he grabbed your chin, staring down at you, breaths still coming out too hard.

“Don’t fall asleep, baby. I’ll come back to finish what I started when your father goes to bed.”

You smiled, pushing him slightly back yet he wasn’t budging. “Go…” you prompted as you started feeling his cum sipping out of your cunt and slowly running down your thighs.

Namjoon smiled too. “Really. I’ll eat you out till you pass out, baby, I promise.”

In the dark of the room and the rush of the moment, you decided you had no reason not to let your thoughts slip out. “I wish you could just come to sleep in my arms.”

He got a little serious. And he kissed you again, slower than before. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He left through that door, meeting your parents that were happy to see him yet didn’t even bother to point out his long absence. Sitting next to his best friend while his breathing was still shaky from fucking his daughter.

Shit… That girl will get him in so much trouble…

Masterlist

[an-ambivalent]

WARNING: This post contains yandere and violent themes (mentions of murder and brainwashing) and other toxic and creepy behaviours that can be triggering and uncomfortable to read. So read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional. I do not condone this toxic behaviour irl. 

Fandom: Naruto 

Pairings: Itachi x Reader | Shisui x Reader | Sasuke x Reader

Status: Headcanons and scenarios mixed hybrid, requested. 

Ask:  Scenario where Yandere!Itachi, Yandere!Shisui, Yandere!Sasuke and Yandere!Obito realizes that they all have feelings for you and since they're family, they decided that they are going to share.

A/N:   I’m didn’t add Obito to this scenario because I don’t see this dynamic working with him in the mix. Although Obito is an Uchiha, frankly speaking, Itachi didn’t ever trust him. Sasuke used him for his own means didn’t care about him other than that either way. As far as Shisui is concerned, he never really interacted with Obito. 

Itachi and Shisui are best friends, and Itachi and Sasuke are siblings (who do care for each other). Sasuke is stubborn about his own ideals but he can still be persuaded by Itachi, and given that Itachi and the Uchiha clan respected Shisui a lot, Sasuke would do too. So, a dynamic with these three choosing to co-operate is plausible. But with Obito.... not really. I just don’t see how he would fit in this scenario.  So, hopefully this explanation clarifies why Obito wasn’t added to the scenario.

No beta, we die like men. I wrote this at like 2 am so idgaf about grammar errors atm ^.< 

Your background: To be in a position where you can interact with all these three simultaneously, you would have to be part of the Uchiha clan yourself. The only other way might be that you’re Itachi’s classmate and progressed exactly like he did. But then, it just feels like copying and pasting Itachi’s character and that’s no fun.

No ‘duplicate version of another character’ in this household. So there’s two choices for your background that can nonetheless lead to the same scenario. Thus, you can choose whatever floats your boat: 1) you’re the first daughter of the main branch of another clan of your choice, and for some time now, your clan and the Uchiha clan have been planning to form an alliance together. What better way to do that than to arrange a marriage between the two first children of the main branch from both clans that “coincidentally” have to be the same age?

2) You’re an Uchiha child, born to parents who are from one of the side branches of the clan. There isn’t many other kids to interact with, and despite being a side branch member, your father is one of the most respected shinobi in the clan. So, your future as a ninja is given, and with his interactions and meetings  with Fugaku, he takes you along with him. As a result, your introduction with Itachi is inevitable. And so by extension, you will also meet Shisui and Sasuke. And given your father’s good relationship with Fugaku, mayhaps your parents went ahead and arranged your marriage with Itachi behind your back and not notifying you yet.

PSA: For the age balance, you are Itachi’s age in this scenario. Shisui is 2-4 years older than Itachi and Itachi is 4 years older than Sasuke. Having a maximum of 8 years age gap if you were Sasuke’s age, or Shisui’s age, would be a lot LOL. Besides, Itachi would be the mediator between Sasuke and Shisui, so you building a relationship with him first makes the most sense.

Introduction / Meeting

Itachi

You and Itachi are forced to spend time together as ‘playmates’ while your parents discuss ‘official business’ (the arrange marriage) with Fugaku and Mikoto. Itachi is overly polite but there’s an icy coldness underlining his polite greetings and one-word answers he gives to your questions when you try to start a conversation.

You aren’t dumb. You were raised with high expectations placed on your shoulders so although you’re not a prodigy at his level, you have more than enough intelligence to know that he’s patronizing you. And unlike him, you aren’t an immature coward who hides behind their passive-aggressive remarks. Whatever you have to say, you communicate it bluntly. So, you don’t hesitate to spew out what you really think of him (a coward who takes his frustrations out on others aka you, who is also in the same situation, instead of facing his problems), and leave his pretty boy face behind in shock.

You were five when this happened.

Sasuke: Overtime, your ‘playdates’ with Itachi became a norm. You were forced to visit him many times and spend time with him given that he is your future husband. (You don’t know that yet, but at this point, Itachi has his suspicions that something is up).

His baby brother is his entire life. Sasuke makes him smile in the way no one else does, so its no wonder you met him eventually.

You were first held Sasuke was he was about fourteen months old. He was a small, chubby, innocent little thing with his already haughty attitude. He had no problem crying in the arms of the people he didn’t like, which was almost everyone outside of his immediate family. But when you held him, despite Itachi’s warnings that “he doesn’t like everyone” but he instantly liked you (much to his displeasure), you instantly became attached to him. Then in the following years, you babysat him a lot. He was the cute little younger sibling you wanted but never had, so you spoiled him to bits. And with the attention and love you gave him, Sasuke loved you too. Not to mention, unlike everyone else in his family, who picked Itachi over him, you picked him over Itachi.

How can he not fall in love with you?

Shisui: More often than not these days, Shisui would silently watch and observe Itachi. For a six years old, it was terrifying for him how he was already adapting to the shinobi lifestyle is so easily; being an emotionless robot and extremely talented.

But, over the past few days, gone were the seemingly emotionless robot. Instead, he had changed into a boy who acted like how a six year old was supposed to act: whiny, pouty, and frustrated (to an extent), but happy at the same time. It was entertaining for him to watch Itachi’s expressions shift from one to another every moment as he grumbled about you underneath his breath. Shisui was ready to tease him about it, but you had beat him to it.

You had appeared out of nowhere and were hosting the two-years-old Sasuke on your shoulders for a piggy back ride. No one was given any time to react, before rude remarks were slipping out your lips that just humiliated his precious friend into a fumbling mess.

Itachi had tried to get back at you, he really did. But your mouth ran like a sailor and you had a witty remark prepared for everything. It was such a contrast to the “perfect princess” show you put on before your and his parents. And each time, your response was more embarrassing which eventually made him lose his cool. Seeing him flustered, despite how much he loved you, little Sasuke tried to  jump to his nii-san’s aid. Shisui was prepared to snicker and chuckle to himself, if he it wasn’t for the most beautiful sound he had ever heard: your laughter. It was so raw, pure, genuine and innocent, he was instantly immersed. Barely anyone from shinobi clans, and given how they were raised, acted so open. And you brought out a different side to Itachi -- it was intriguing for him to witness.

He wanted to get to know you more. He wanted to hear your life more. He wanted you to share your secrets with him on how to bully Itachi so easily. So immediately, he put out his hand and gave you a wide grin.

“I’m Shisui. What’s your name?”

Realising their feelings

Shisui: Shisui knew he loved you ever since your first laugh. It was love at first sound. However, with the respect to you belonging to his best friend, he would never make a move on you.

Maybe, there might be some lingering touches here and there that lasted a bit too long between ‘friends.’ Maybe sometimes he was harsher on you during your training spars so he would have an excuse to touch you and help you bandage up your injuries. Maybe sometimes, he ‘jokingly’ wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek to ‘get a rise out of Itachi’ and not because he wanted to touch you.

But he never made a move on you because he knew you were Itachi’s. And as long as you were still his friend and spent time with him, he didn’t care too much.

But he should’ve known better. Just as how he can understand Itachi and cares for him like he is his brother, Itachi is the same towards Shisui. He knew how Shisui felt about you, and although one part of him just wanted to you have all to himself, it didn’t feel right that Shisui had to hold himself back when he needed you too. If only, it wasn’t for your clan, and the Uchiha, and their damn village that believed in monogamous relationships, then he would happily share you with Shisui.

Itachi: There were many rules and obligations Itachi has to adhere to due to his clan. Although he did them, he didn’t want to. He hated it. His thoughts were different from his actions so he was constantly experiencing cognitive dissonance. But, you weren’t part of that. For some reason, when he was eleven and his suspicions were confirmed by his parents and the clan elders that you were set up to wed him when you both turn thirteen, that was one thing he didn’t hate or didn’t want to do. In fact, it was alarming for everyone in the meeting how easily he obliged.

Confirming how he felt towards you, it honestly did not surprise him. He had assumed this was the case for a while. Ever since you called him a coward due to his habit of upholding a facade, he tried to be more honest. Not in front of his clan, evidently, but to the people that mattered. Shisui, Sasuke, you, and himself.

The old Itachi, had he not met you and fell in love with someone, would have buried his feelings without a care. But for you.... it was a different story. He acknowledged his feelings and never tried to get rid off them. How could he? You were the perfect lover for him. You got along swimmingly with Shisui. You took good care of Sasuke, and his younger brother was so attached to you. You were an exceptional kunoichi, put up the perfect facade before your own parents and his, and weren’t afraid to challenge him and speak your mind.

And best of all? You were already promised to him. So, he saw no reason to bury his feelings for you.

Sasuke: Sasuke always knew he loved you.

Ever since he can remember, you had always been by his side no matter what.

His father didn’t pay attention to him. His mother did, but she scolded him too when he just wanted to spend time with Itachi.

Itachi spent time with him but lately, he has been ignoring him. It’s not the same. And him and Shisui always leave him behind to get things done that they say he’s “not mature enough to know.”

But Sasuke does know.

He knows what they talk about his and your back because thinks of those things too. It’s everywhere: princesses, their prince, their love story and happily ever after.

He wants to kiss you to show you how he loves you like the couples in fairy tales. He does. Despite his nerves that are causing fluttering butterflies in his tummy, he builds up the courage to have his first kiss with you.

But you’re faster than him. You just move your head so he kisses your cheek instead, and then laugh out loud before ruffling his hair and telling him, “you’re adorable. But you should save your first kiss for your true love.”

He likes being adorable for you, but why won’t you understand?! You are his first and only love.

There will be a day when you finally understand that.

Sharing You:

ok.... listen.... Uchiha clan massacre (and yours too for scenario A) but both Itachi and Shisui. And although its mission issued by the damn village, that’s not why they’re doing it. It just so happens that its the perfect solution to all their problems because they get rid off the obstacles in their way, and they will have to leave the village. They can take you away far, away from everything, so you only have them left.

Obviously, they will take Sasuke with them too. Except this time, there’s no also hurting and torturing him and enticing him to seek revenge. If anything, when Sasuke is horrified, Itachi tells him the truth. There’s lies as well, but, they would need to brainwash him to some extent so he willingly stays with them. Itachi tells him of how if the clan lived, then he would never get to be with you, or see you again because they were going to hurt you.

“Do you want that foolish little brother? You made big claims to make [Name] yours and protect her, so are you really going to mourn those who were going to take her away from you? She’s my bride, and because I care about you, I will share her. But for that to happen, you need to listen to me and Shisui and not be pathetic as to get in our way.”

Itachi had a way with his words, and it was terrifying how much they could influence Sasuke. And now that they had, and no one else was going to be in the way -- not any clans, the village -- nothing.

It is just going to be you and them for the rest of your life.

[with-love-anu]

Some tips to start a fandom blog (for writers)

Okay, before I begin I will like to say that I am no expert or am 100% sure these are bound to work. But these are some things I learnt over time that might help you out! 

1. Tagging posts.

This one is one of the most important points! You must tag everything properly for your content to actually reach as many people as possible. 

Do your research! Search up common/popular tags people use for the content you want to post and use them wisely. 

Use no more than 20 tags because tumblr will not show them up. When you post something, make a quick search of any of the tags you used and go to the recent section to see whether your post actually showed up. If not, try posting again.  

For new blogs- don’t start posting as soon as you make a blog. Your posts will not show up. Instead, reblog some content (gifs / moodboards / fanfiction etc) for a week or two along with tags! 

Tags I use for my fanfiction**:   #character full name   #character first name   #character full name fanfiction   #character full name x reader   #character full name x you   #character full name x y/n   #character first name x reader   #character first name x you   #fandom name   #side character full names (excluding oc)

**I’m currently writing for HP, Marvel etc. 

2. Taglists.

Now this is a tricky topic because there’s never a straight answer to this. I’ll just list down the some things I’ve learnt about taglists.

A long taglist does not equate to more number of notes. While taglists help your readers to be notified about your content, I know for a fact that it doesn’t mean everyone mentioned will interact with the post. Some might do, some might just leave a like while some might not read at all. 

Taglists work only when the people you tag, read and reblog and are actually active. Otherwise not so much. 

Tagging will take at least 10-15 minutes, copy pasting a taglist doesn’t work. You have to click on each individual user so tumblr tags them. While tumblr has updated by adding the filtering activity option, there is still a good chance that the person might not get the notification at all. 

Is there an alternative? Well, what I’ve done is that I’ve made a side blog. Whenever I post some new content- I reblog it over there. If people have the notifications on for that blog, they get notified whenever I post. It technically works the same way as taglists. 

Another thing you can do is submit the link to your post to @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts to be promoted to a large number of readers. PSA: Only for HP fandom.

3. Posting time.

Yes, this is important. Search up the time tumblr or the specific fandom is most active. Post during that time or a little later, so that people could see your works on their dashes. 

Schedule your timezone reblogs strategically. 

4. Interact.

Interact with your mutuals, with other writers. Comment and reblog their works and talk to them. Don’t be afraid to seek help or ask something if they welcome that- you are always free to send me asks. It’s better when people know you because that way it’s more likely that they’ll read and see your work. 

I am not telling you that anyone is bound to reblog your work because you do the same or the fact that they are your friends. I’m trying to say that sometimes a little support goes a long way. I wouldn’t be here if my mutuals didn’t help me out in the beginning.

5. Post format.

Okay so what I’ve found while searching and reading up fanfiction is that I personally was more likely to read a fanfiction with a summary and mentioned word count. 

Use a keep reading option or tag it with #long post. If your fanfiction is more than 1K words and/or contains nsfw/smut content- use that, it’s monotonous to see a wall of text on your dash. It’s the three dot box on a new line  adjacent to the insert gif in case you’re using the website. If you’re using the app, type :readmore: on a new line and press enter.

Use warnings. It is essential- mention it if there are none. 

6. Miscellaneous.

Participate in challenges. Enter in different challenges while making new content because one, it will give you exposure and two it will be great way to promote your work. 

If you’re starting a completely new blog, it’s better to have content made up in advance. Because firstly you need time so that tumblr recognizes that you’re not a bot so you’ll have to reblog posts for a week or two with appropriate tags. Then posting content consistently does give you a boost because more content (maybe at a gap of 3 days) means more followers, more people who read your works. 

When to make masterlists? People are usually quicker to follow when they see a masterlist made so it’s an advantage to make one when you’ve posted about 3-4 works. But if you make a masterlist later- after posting about 10-15 works, it will give you a boost in the activity because new users will be able to see your works and binge. The choice is upto you.

There are users who would say that it’s good to take as many requests as possible because it helps you grow. While it is true to some extend, I don’t find it to be useful. Because when I first begun, taking in all types of requests burnt me out and lowered my motivation because there were scenarios I didn’t relate with at all but still wrote them. The quality of my content decreased too. Again, it’s up to you.

I used to write headcanons during writing blocks. Headcanons are usually easier to deal with and not to mention the fact that they are fun. That way I could provide for more content and still not stress out.

Most of all, take it easy. It’s not your job- you are not supposed to create content every time. You, your health and happiness comes first. People will adore and love you even if you stop posting for months straight. Have fun, okay?

[fanfictionfansmiction]

I Said Your Name

It’s been awhile! Here’s a Fred Weasley X Reader that’s a modern AU where you love him and plan to tell him about it but chicken out and the story follows you at a party. I’m not the best at summaries but I hope you guys enjoy! Also PSA if you have any requests feel free to ask!

Word Count: 1885

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“I’m leaving.” I whisper to anyone who can hear me. Large tears run down my face and blur my vision.

Using all the strength left in my shaking arms I push myself off the fabric sofa knocking into Hermione as I do. She doesn’t notice for once, too invested in what Ron was saying. Her nose pink and her large teeth biting down on her lip in anticipation for climax of the story she’s already heard hundreds of times. I hear Neville say goodbye. I don’t bother to respond pushing myself through the crowd that’s gathered around the entryway. Too frustrated and focused on getting out of there I realise I’ve left my coat in the kitchen. I stop in my tracks because I can’t leave without my coat, but I really don’t want to go into the kitchen where he is.

To be fair I’m not sure he knows what he’s doing. I suppose my anger would seem more justified if I told Fred. If he knew that every time he recommends an old film, I go home and watch it. I should tell him. I really did mean to tell him when he picked me up tonight. Hermione and I planned it out. I was going to invite him in because ‘I just wasn’t ready yet’. We’d be alone in my house and then I’d tell him. That it didn’t matter to me if he didn’t feel the same way but if I didn’t tell him it was going to ruin me. A little dramatic in the wording I know but a feeling like this requires dramatics. A man like Fred is someone I want to be dramatic with. But no. I couldn’t tell him. Tonight, when I opened the door and looked up at him hair damp from the rain and face red from the cold. He took my hands and said, “It’s so bloody cold out there! Feel how cold I am.” I rubbed his red hands in mine trying to warm them up. We just stood there, door wide open laughing. So how did the night end up like this?

Before we left, I made sure that all the windows and doors were locked, more focused on the notes stuffed in my coat pocket than whatever Fred was talking about.

“And then she kissed me!” Fred exclaimed breathless.

I turned my head not realising how wide my eyes had gotten. For a moment I thought Fred looked guilty.

“Don’t looked so surprised,” he laughed my name throwing a toned arm over my shoulder, “I really didn’t expect it though. I always thought she was into someone else.” He said looking down at me. Before he could continue, I asked if we were ready to go. A lopsided grin took over his pink face, “Yeah I think we are.”

The house party was only a few streets away, but the walk felt wrong. Too much tension for a walk with my Fred. I think he could feel it too.

“Someone said everyone from the old days were going to be there.” Fred said bumping into me.

“Well, you know Lily and James go all out with these things. It’s so great that Harry still gets to do these things at their house.” I replied.

“Could you imagine if I asked mum to do something like this.” Fred barked with laughter.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought.

When we entered the warmth of the house hit us. Filled with happy faces and the golden light I always associated with the Potters. A wave of ‘heys’ hit us as we entered. Lily and James weaved their way through the crowd to greet us. Hugging us and informing us of all the free booze in the kitchen. Sending us off with a wink.

“I love it here.” Fred spoke leaning down so I could hear him over the steady thud of music.

When we reached the kitchen, Fred told me he’s sort out the drinks, so I leant against the kitchen counter listening to a work story he was telling me when Oliver Wood sauntered into the room and placed himself by me. Fred attention followed Oliver all the way to empty space next he now filled.

“Here, I made you your favourite.” Fred said handing me the glass and snaking his arm around my waist tugging me a little closer toward him. “How’s it going Wood?” Fred asked arching his brow.

“Oh, you know, the Rugby’s worked out for me I actually just signed my new contract. I did however just break up with my girl,” Oliver looked at me, “you know we just wanted different things. I wanted to settle down get serious. She didn’t.” He said, thinking a moment before continuing, “So when did you two finally get together?” He asked cocking his brow. Fred’s arm suddenly retracted from my waist and a gap began to form between us.

Fred’s face a violent red, he cleared his throat before he started “No mate, we aren’t together. Just friends. I’m actually sort of dating this other girl. She’s actually coming here tonight.” He chugged the rest of his drink actively avoiding my glare. “I need a refill what about you two?”

Before I could answer Oliver slid closer to me and asked, “So does that mean you’re single?”

My mouth fell open, “Um, uh, yeah. Yes, I am single. Actually, I haven’t been on a date in forever.” I said ignoring the burning feeling in the back of my head. Oliver smiled at me like he’d just gotten good news. I felt Fred about to interrupt when the kitchen door opened.

“Freddie!” A voice rang.

“Oh, hey there.” Fred said preoccupied.

Oliver cleared his throat, “Let’s leave these two alone, I think they’re playing drinking games in the other room.” He took my hand in his rough ones gently guiding me away into the dining room.

I played drinking games with Oliver with a few hours until he got called away for some emergency. That’s how I ended up a little too drunk sat on that sofa rethinking everything.

I was sat there for about an hour. At first, I was joining in with the conversation laughing with the others but then on my way to the toilet I caught a glimpse of Fred and his sort of girlfriend. Her face buried in his neck, him laughing holding her close. I locked myself in the bathroom. My heart beating a little too loud. I slump down onto the toilet seat trying to catch my breath. This is not how my night was supposed to go.

After staying in the bathroom for twenty minutes I returned to my seat hoping that it wasn’t too obvious that I’d been crying. I think they noticed. No one said anything but I could tell. The worried glances exchanged by those sober enough to care.

So here I am. Standing in the middle of the entryway. Red faced and a little too drunk. Why should I feel weird? He’s the one who was being weird! Why should I cry over him?

“Everything alright love?” Lily asked softly. I turn to look at her intending to answer before I can she says. “Go tell him.”

I nod at her. If I were sober, I’d feel ridiculous but right now it almost feels like an under reaction.

I storm back through the house the crowd parting slightly as I do. Pushing my way through the kitchen door I see Fred leant against the kitchen island his head hanging down covering his face with his hands. I stomp my way through and snatch my coat from the space next to Fred which causes him to look up.

He says my name quietly. The fury in my veins almost disperses at once. I don’t let it.

“Fred, I need to tell you something.” My voice is a little shaky. I try to continue but Fred tries to stop me.

The kitchen door slams open and Fred’s sort of girlfriend is stood there with red eyes fuelled with recognisable rage.

“Is this her?” She spits eyeing me like I’m prey. She then mockingly moans my name which completely throws me. Suddenly I’m confused what I’m still doing here with the feeling that I should leave immediately.

“You are pathetic Fred. I cannot believe you. Don’t try to contact me we are done.” She declares with venom before gracefully exiting the room. I almost follow her wanting to ask her what happened. My feet move before my mind does, I’m only stopped by Fred tugging at my arm.

“I don’t think she’s going to want to talk to you.” He says with his head down still.

“Why not?” I ask looking up at him trying to catch his eye.

“You don’t want to know.”

“If I didn’t want to know I wouldn’t have asked Fred.” The anger re-enters my body as I yank my arm out of his grasp.

“Not you too.” He whines.

“Yes, me too. You have ruined my entire night! And apparently, I’m not the only one. Look I came back here to get my coat and tell you how I feel but quite frankly I don’t think that’s a conversation I want to have with you right now. I’m leaving. Goodnight Fred.” I declare following the exit of the girl before me.

On my way out I quickly thank Lily for hosting as I walk away, I hear them laugh and the words “He’s such an idiot.”

I stomped the entire walk home trying to shake the foul mood out of me. As I reached the top of my road, I hear Fred call after me.

“What Fred?” I shout back pulling my keys out of my pocket.

“Please wait! I just need to talk to you.” He yelled after me sprinting the small distance between us.

“Can we do this tomorrow Fred?” I ask opening my front door.

“No, we need to do this now.” He announces.

“Fine, come inside.” I tell him.

Before he begins, he says my name softly, “Earlier when I was telling you about the kiss I had more to say. You cut me off.” He says closing the gap between us. He brushes a piece of hair out of my face, from this small action I feel a warmth grow inside me “What I was going to say was that it didn’t feel right. When I was kissing her all I could think about was you. About your lips. About the way you smell. And the way she wasn’t you. When Oliver showed up, I acted like an idiot. Then she showed up and I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her how I felt. Then I drank a little too much and said your name when I was kissing her. Look I have loved you before I really knew what it meant. I still don’t really know what it means but I don’t want to lose you over a dumb mistake like the ones I made tonight. I love you.” He says softly with tears forming in his eyes.

“Fred.” I say, “I love you too.” I touch my hand to his face.

“Your hands are so cold.” He laughs.

[peach-pops]

Huwaaa. I just read your noya hc with kageyama's older sister and I am going to say that IM TRULY IN LOVE WITH NOYAA 😔❤ But here's the thing, can I request a hc where kageyama (or ushijima) crushing on oikawa's younger sister that also goes to karasuno (or shiratorizawa) ? you can do both or one of em if you want 👉🏻👈🏻

I did Kageyama cause I love him and he deserves love PERIOD! Also, I love Oikawa, he’s my baby I just like being mean to him so that’s a PSA. 

Kageyama Crushing on Oikawa’s Younger Sister HC

Kageyama doesn’t really ever have the time to think about girls. No girl has ever really caught his attention and he’s pretty content with not having a girlfriend since it would only distract him

Or so he thought

Because when he sees you in the gym one day doing a playful 3 v 2 match with his teammates, his lil milk carton slips out of his hands and spills all over the floor 

 ohmygodwhyismyheartbeatingsofast

Hinata shouts over to Kageyama to come play and Kageyama feels his stomach twist and turn as he stands on the opposite side of the net 

You give him a friendly smile and he curses at himself because he doesn’t want his teammates to see how flushed his face is 

It doesn’t really matter but just in case yall are curious the teams are:

Team one: Kageyama, Hinata, and Tanaka

Team two: mystery girl, Noya, and Tsuki 

He also almost has a heart attack because you’re a setter too and you’re so frickin good like he can only describe your style of playing to be similar to Oikawa’s but screw that guy why would he be thinking of him??? 

After the playful game, you shake his hand cause duh sportsmanship and Kageyama is so nervous because he knows that he has a definitive crush on you now 

All he can think about is how your hand is surprisingly soft for a volleyball player

Come to think of it he’s never actually held hands with a girl 

“ Wow, you really gave me a run for my money, I’m impressed. Did you play volleyball in junior high?” 

He couldn’t believe you were actually talking to him but he swallowed down any nerves before speaking 

“ Yes, I was a setter at Kitagawa Daiichi.” 

When he saw you smile, that’s what instantly killed him because you checked all the boxes for him

Likes and plays volleyball ✓

Friendly and Sweet ✓

AND PRETTY?!?!  ✓ ✓ ✓ CHECK CHECK CHECK 

Literally what could go wrong?

“ No way, my brother was the captain for Kitagawa! He goes to Aoba Johsai now!”

Kageyama felt his heart drop as he thought of Oikawa but maybe, just maybe you were talking about someone else

“.....Who’s your brother?” 

“ Toru Oikawa, do you know him?” 

WAR FLASHBACKS THIS BOY HAS FRICKIN PTSD CAUSE GOD DAMN IT, OF COURSE, THE FIRST GIRL HE LIKES IS RELATED TO OIKAWA 

His brain can’t even comprehend how someone so nice is related to that bastard 

“ No”

“ Oh that’s probably for the best, he’s kinda an ass.”

Kageyama thought it would be rude to agree so all he did was shrug nervously before you broke the awkward tension 

“ I have to get back to class, I only stopped by to talk to your captain for a second but it was nice meeting you Kageyama-kun.” 

You waved goodbye to everyone else and walked out of the gym, being careful to step over the spot where Kageyama had spilled his milk

Kageyama was still in shock because not only did he feel like he completely messed up his shot with you, but his brain was going crazy because he actually wanted to see you again 

He always kept an eye out for you in the hallways but it seemed like every time he caught a glimpse of you, you were gone which only made him like you even more

For weeks, all he could think about was the chance to see you again and he would even practice in the mirror on how he would talk to you because he really didn’t want to mess things up with you

He even tried to ask Tanaka and Noya for advice because he thought they had the most experience with girls but Kageyama started to feel too overwhelmed with how much information he was supposed to remember so he just decided that it would be better if he figured it out on his own 

Kags thought he would have enough time to figure out how to talk to you right?

Wrong HAHA

 the thought of you showing up to the Spring High Preliminaries didn’t even cross his mind so when he saw you sitting outside the gym doors, his hands got extra sweaty and his heartbeat was all over the place

Cause duh, of course, you would show up since Aoba Johsai was playing

He thought you looked even prettier than the first time he met you in the gym and even though you were wearing an Aoba Johsai jersey to support your brother, he still wouldn’t change anything about the way you looked at this moment 

All of that courage he was building up over the past couple of weeks was long gone but Tanaka and Noya being the best wingmen they could be each grabbed Kageyama’s shoulders and shoved him over to you 

“ Please don’t do this-”

“ Aw come on Kags, it’s not everyday you get the chance to make a move on a smokin babe! We’re only here to make your life easier right Tanaka?”

“ Yep! Come on, we’re not going to just stand by and watch the love of your life slip away! Go and make your senpais proud!”

You looked up from your phone right as Tanaka and Noya gave Kags one last push, sending him falling over into the seat next to you

“ Kageyama-Kun! Are you okay?” 

“ IMFINE!” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at how nervous he was being, this was a totally different side to Kageyama than the one on the court but you didn’t mind at all 

“ Are you excited? I saw the bracket and you guys have a really good shot to go to nationals.”

Kageyama’s stomach shifted as he hesitantly took a seat next to you and did his best to ignore the stares coming from his teammates

Luckily Daichi and Kiyoko shooed off the rest of the team so you guys could get some privacy 

“ We’re going to have to beat Aoba Johsai if we want to win.”

“ Well it might not seem like it but I’m rooting for you to win- look!” 

Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows together as you lifted up the bottom of your pants and showed him your Karasuno black and orange socks 

“ I would’ve worn a Karasuno jersey but my brother gets kinda superstitious. The socks are like a secret weapon to support you guys without getting my head ripped off by Toru.”

Kageyama knew that it was just a pair of socks but he couldn’t even wrap his head around the fact that you were ‘rooting for him to win’ instead of your own blood

“Maybe one day I’ll give you my jersey to wear on game day”

Holycrapdidhejustsaythatoutloudwhywouldhesaythatoutloudohmygod

He couldn’t help himself it just came out of his mouth so fast and he meant for it to be in his head but the socks made him think about you in his jersey. He tried so hard to calm himself down and his face was flushed a deep red at this point 

Kageyama didn’t even know what to say he just sat there with his hand covering his mouth in shock

“ Really? I would love to wear your jersey!” You smiled as Kageyama stopped breathing,” I mean I can’t wear it now but if you guys win, I’ll definitely wear it to all of your games.”

 Hold up, did you just AGREE TO WEAR HIS JERSEY?!?!?!

Before he could even process what was going on, he felt his heart sink to the floor when he saw Oikawa walking over to the two of you

“ Tobio-chan with my Y/N-chan? I gotta say little sis, if you’re trying to dig up dirt against Karasuno by getting cozy with Tobio-chan, you’re already too late. I can read him like a book. Maybe you should try Shiratorizawa, I could use a spy to get in close with Ushiwaka.”

The thought of you getting close to him just for information stung Kageyama but you were quick to roll your eyes at the accusation 

“ First off, Ushijima terrified me and second, I have better things to do with my time than to pretend to be interested in someone Shittykawa. Unlike you, people actually enjoy my company.” 

“ You’re so vulgar, you’re spending too much time with Iwa-chan,” Oikawa huffed as he turned to face Kageyama 

Kageyama mentally braced himself because anytime he ever interacted with Oikawa, it always ended badly 

“ And you-”

“ Nope, Toru if you’re going to say some snarky ass comment, keep it to yourself,” You interrupted which startled both Oikawa and Kageyama,” focus more on the match than worrying about Kageyama, that’s my job.” 

Kageyama was SHOCKED you would speak to your older brother like that, ESPECIALLY since you were going out of your way to defend him

Truth be told he was falling for you even harder than before

Oikawa stuck his tongue out at the two of you but walked away with whatever dignity he had left 

Kageyama felt a new rush of confidence; if you could stand up to your older brother for him than damn it, he was going to man up and ask you out

“ Do you want to go on a date? With me?” 

When you smiled at Kageyama, his heart was beating so loud against his ribcage he could’ve sworn everyone around him could hear it 

“ I thought you would never ask.”

[ilovefandoms102]

Endless Love

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Plus Size Reader

Summary: JJ has a surprise for you...

Taglist:

@drewswannabegirl @velyssaraptor @kaitieskidmore1 @jiaraendgame @teamnick @jeyramarie @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @baby-pogue​ @ma10427​ @judayyyw​ @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @agirlwholovescoffee​ @justcallmesams​ @lasnaro​ @lonely-kermit​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @ifilwtmfc​ @gviosca​ @fernweh-fangirl​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @eb15​ @tangledinsparkles​ @hurricane-abigail​ @outerbongs​ @jaxandcomet​

Note: This is another request I hope I did you justice! Also just wanted to throw a quick psa that I DO NOT condone body shaming or anything of the sort. I am a plus size female and the words used in my writings are words that not only myself but others I know have heard said about their size. Body shaming is still happening today and I want to shed light on the fact that no matter your size YOU ARE WORTHY, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, YOU DESERVE LOVE! There is not enough representation for plus size queens on this app and I created this series so that whoever reads it feels inclusive since most reader inserts are assumed to be a cute, short, skinny female. Not saying there is anything wrong with that, but there is never any stories that females are described in various shapes and sizes which is why I created this series. If you are triggered by anything in these fics then please do not read these and hurt yourself. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

=======================================

After a long day at work, there was nothing more satisfying then seeing JJ. The way his beautiful baby blue eyes sparkled every time he saw me, and the way his whole face would light up. He was the light I needed in the darkness of my mind. He made me feel beautiful despite what others, and myself think. He made me feel like I deserved more than what I let myself believe. 

======================================

It was a busy day at The Wreck, Kie and I were flying around the restaurant serving customers. Just as it had slowed down, the guys came in. I was cleaning a table, so my back was turned to them. I felt a pair of arms around me and jumped. I turned to see JJ, his signature goofy grin adorning his features. 

“Hi,” I whispered, still clutching the rag I was using.

“I wish I would have known you were planning on looking so sexy today. I would have stopped and got a picture.” he grinned, I rolled my eyes.

“You saw me before I left J, I haven’t changed any.” I laughed.

“Maybe it’s seeing you hard at work that has me going gorgeous.” he chuckled, kissing my cheek. He lived to see me blush, he thought it was adorable. 

“You’re so dumb.” I giggled, trying to escape his hold so I could go back to work. He tightened his hold, his eyes full of mischief. 

“What’s your hurry babe?” he asked, mock confusion tinting his features. His hands started to roam, from my waist, down to my love handles, and further to my ass.

“JJ stop, I’m at work!” I whisper yelled. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” he said, his hands still roaming.

“Quit!” I laughed, grabbing his hands in mine. 

“When are you leaving? I have plans for us.” he smiled, wriggling his brows at me. 

“As soon as Kie’s dad says so, what are we doing?” I grinned, excitement coursing through me. 

“It’s a surprise.” he whispered, lips ghosting over mine.

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I sighed, my eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips that were brushing against mine. 

“I know babygirl, but I really think you’ll like this one.” he smirked.

“I need to go back to work before Kie comes and yells at us.” I chuckled, giving him a quick kiss before breaking from his hold. 

“My hard working woman, makin’ me horny just by wiping down some tables.” he winked. 

I slapped him with my rag, shooing him away so I could get out of here faster. I was a little way from the bar, turning my back to my friends. I was hoping they would talk about whatever this surprise JJ has for me. I was dying to know so I could mentally prepare myself. Surprises gave me extremely bad anxiety, but not as bad if it’s JJ.

“Can you not harass y/n while she’s working? I’d like to go home today.” Kie sighed, smiling at how sweet JJ was to me. 

“You’re just mad I get to take her sexy ass home, and you get stuck with this” JJ said, pointing to Pope. I chuckled, shaking my head at his antics. 

“Hey!” Pope exclaimed.

“Sarah and I got everything set up, text me right before you get there so we can bring out the food.” John B. tried, and failed, to whisper to JJ.

“Guys, what if she doesn’t like it?” JJ asked, I could picture a worried look on his face. 

“She will love it, I know y/n.” Kie said, I’m sure she was rolling her eyes at the blonde.

==============================

I practically sprinted to the back as soon as Kie’s dad gave us the ok to head out for the night. I was excited to spend some alone time with JJ. Both of us basically lived with John B, so we were never really alone. We really had never gone on a date either, we were always with the other Pogues getting into something. Of course I loved them, but it would be nice for one night to just be JJ and I. 

As soon as I walked to the front where JJ was waiting for me, he grabbed me up in his arms. We were both smiling like idiots, basking in our love. He leaned down and planted a sweet, tender kiss on my lips. I smiled into the kiss, making it hard for him to actually kiss me.

“Baby, stop I’m trying to get my kiss I was denied earlier.” he laughed, his lids heavy as he pulled back to look at me. 

“I can’t help it!” I giggled, grabbing his face to kiss him properly.

“Are you ready for the best surprise of your life?” he winked, pulling me out to the van.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grinned, thanking him as he opened my door for me. JJ jumped in the driver seat, throwing on his aviators

“I love you,” he said, gripping my hand.

“I love you J,” I whispered, smiling softly at him.

==================================

I was very confused when we arrived at The Boneyard, not expecting the surprise to be here....

“Why are we at the beach?” I asked.

“You’ll see, patience baby.” he said, tipping his sunglasses down to wink.

“You irritate me,” I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“I promise you’ll love it.” he said, leaning over to kiss me quickly. 

JJ grabbed some stuff out of the back, opening my door when he was finished. He grabbed my hand once I jumped out of the van, taking us down the little walk way. I gasped, not believing the sight in front of me. A table was set up with a white table cloth, candles, and a vase of roses. Next to the table, a bed sheet was laid out with lots of pillows and blankets. On closer inspection, the plates on the table had my favorite meal along with a bottle of my favorite wine.

“JJ,” I whispered, tears gathering in my eyes.

“Do you like it?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“I love it, I love you.” I laughed, hugging him tight to me. I kissed him hard, hoping to show my appreciation for him.

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold.” he grinned, kissing my nose.

========================================

We talked, all evening long. Reminiscing on our most embarrassing moments of childhood, sometimes laughing so hard one of us almost choked. The best part of our relationship was the both of us having the same sense of humor, never a dull moment between us. I loved this boy so much, sometimes thinking about it made me want to cry. He was so kind, generous, and funny. He cared so deeply for me it left me stunned sometimes. I had known this boy my whole life, and he still was full of surprises. Kie and John B love to tease that they had never seen JJ look at a girl the way he looks at me.

“Want to go swimming?” he winked. Another great thing about JJ is that I didn’t have to worry about being embarrassed to be in a bathing suit, I mostly had to worry about him trying to tear it off of me.

“Where am I supposed to change? I didn’t even bring a bathing suit.” I chuckled.

“What if I didn’t want us to change?” he asked, his eyes clouding with an emotion I had never seen before.

“JJ, I’m not swimming in my clothes.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“Didn’t say we were wearing our clothes baby.” he said, eyeing me up and down.

“So you want-you...you want to go skinny dipping?” I asked, my face turning red. 

“Mhm,” he nodded, his tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“I-I...I don’t know J.” I stammered. I had never been naked in front of JJ before, we hadn’t sealed the deal yet. I was nervous to say the least. He got up from his chair, coming to squat in front of me.

“If you don’t want to we don’t have to baby, it’s just something I’ve always wanted to do....with you.” he said, staring deep into my eyes. 

I really wanted to, but I was hesitant. I had never shared anything intimate with anyone before, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t absolutely terrify me. But this was JJ, and I knew he loved me with all my flaws. I knew I could trust him with my insecurities. 

“I just...I’m a little nervous. I-I’ve never been ya know, in the nude in front of anyone before.” I mumbled, not able to meet his gaze.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world y/n, you know you don’t have to hide from me. I love you...how about, if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll go out first with my back turned, and you can meet me in the water.” he said, his eyes shining with hope.

“Ok,” I whispered, my cheeks flushing as he kissed me. 

He stripped, winking at me before running out to the water. I sat stunned, my eyes wide as saucers. The boy had to be sculpted by God himself, there was not a single flaw on his body. I got up from my chair, slowly removing my clothing. The wind was a tad chilly, so I wrapped a towel around me.

I walked out to the ocean, my nerves starting to skyrocket. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest, I was afraid it would jump out any second. I removed my towel just as the dry sand met the wet, letting my hair down as well. I was thankful the waves were calm, making it easier for me to reach JJ. I ducked down in the water, swimming closer to him. I grabbed his bicep, and he turned to face me. He got down in the water with me, pulling me closer to him. I leaned my forehead on his, nuzzling his nose.His ringed hands found my thighs, pulling my legs around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his strong arms caged me to him.

“Not so bad is it?” he grinned, tipping his nose to mine.

“I guess not,” I chuckled, leaning back to look at the sky. “It’s so pretty, look at the stars.” I said in awe.

“I don’t need to look, I have you in front of me.” he said, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his cheesy line.

“That was cheesy even for you” I laughed, my stomach hurting from how hard I laughed.

“Well I thought it was romantic.” he huffed, pouting his lips. 

I pulled myself away from him, a mischievous look in my eyes. His eyes narrowed, knowing I was up to something. I jumped, dunking him underwater. I giggled at my childish ways, squealing moments later when JJ yanked me with him. We both resurfaced, his hand came to push his hair out of his face. He stood to his full height, stalking up to me. I backed away, the look in his eye was as if he were an animal, and I was his prey. I was so turned on I started feeling pulsations all over my body. My breathing became short, my eyes wide with anticipation. 

He snatched a hold of my wrist, I gasped as he yanked to to him. Our chests were touching, my hard nipples brushing his abdomen. I stared into his eyes that had grown darker with lust. My other hand brushed against his thigh, I got a burst of confidence and started to trail my hand up his thigh. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath on my lips. I came in contact with his hard member, JJ groaned deep in his throat. 

I tested the waters, sliding my hand up and down to see what made him make that sound again. I slid my thumb over his tip, causing a shudder to run through JJ. He was starting to pant the faster I moved my hand, his whole body becoming more twitchy. His rings were digging into my skin, his grip on my waist insanely tight, but I didn’t mind. I was so overwhelmed with pleasure from watching JJ get off from just my hand took over my senses.

“Baby, please...you’re torturing me.” he moaned, thrusting his hips into my hand.

I hummed, leaning my cheek against his. I kissed down his neck, moving my hand slightly faster. His panting breaths were hitting my neck, he leaned down and bit my shoulder. I moaned loudly in his ear, the pain mixed with the pleasure had me rubbing my thighs to seek some kind of friction. He sucked on my skin, leaving his mark behind. I jerked my hand faster, stopping to rub my thumb over his slit. He cursed into my shoulder, biting down harder on it. 

“Fuck, shit...I-I’m gonna cum baby.” JJ groaned.

He only lasted a few more seconds before he was yelling curses, his member twitched in my hand. I was in awe of this man in front of me, the pure beauty of his face in absolute pleasure was astonishing. Once he came down, he smashed his lips to mine. I moaned in his mouth, tongues and teeth fighting in a passionate battle. 

JJ started to pull me towards shore, my heart clenched. He would see me fully naked before him, but I was so turned on I didn’t pay any mind to it. I had come to the realization that no matter what I thought about myself, JJ would love me no matter what I looked like. He loved me for the person I was, and he loved every inch of me. I wasn’t scared anymore, I wanted to be with him, and I wanted him to see me at my most vulnerable state. 

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling me to the sheet that was laid out with pillows and blankets.

We both laid down, JJ coming over me. I stared at how his arm muscles bulged as he held himself up, the veins in his arms coming to the surface. His shark tooth necklace dangled from his neck, I grabbed a hold of it and pulled him to me. Our lips met for a breif second before JJ pulled away, smirking at me. I grinned as his lips moved down my neck, stopping to make little love bites along the way.

“Our friends are going to make fun of me if you don’t stop marking me J,” I laughed.

“They’ll just know we had a good time princess, I think it’s a good look on you.” he smirked into my skin. 

He moved lower, my giggle turning into a moan as he took my nipple into his mouth. He nibbled lightly on it, sending tingles all the way down to my lower regions. His other hand came to play with my other nipple, his cold rings making me shiver. My hips shifted under him, the need to feel him in my most private area becoming almost too much. JJ finally began to move, kissing the valley between my breasts and lower. He kissed all around my stomach, knowing it was one of the areas on my body I was most insecure about.

“I love you here, and here, and here.” he kissed my stomach, my waist, and my hips. Eventually kissing all over my body, a huge smile played on my features. My cheeks began to hurt from how big my smile was. My heart soared with love for this boy in front of me.

“I love you J,” I whispered, waving my hand through his drying blonde locks. 

JJ got down between my legs, propping himself on his elbows. My breath hitched in my throat as I felt his breath near my heat. I choked on a moan as he took a long lick all the way up my heat, my hips bucked into his face. His strong arms came around to hold my hips down as he licked and sucked all over my heat. My hand got tighter in his hair, yanking him closer to me. He shook his head to get as deep as possible, a long moan forcing itself from my throat. He dipped his fingers all over my wetness and his saliva before entering a finger inside me. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but I relaxed myself. When I got used to the feeling, JJ entered another finger, and bean scissoring them inside me. He sucked on my clit as his fingers began to move faster, curling inside of me. His fingers hit that special spot inside me, stars forming in my vision.

“JJ, baby, please!” I begged, squirming underneath his hold. 

“Don’t interrupt me while I’m eating babygirl or you won’t get your treat.” he smirked, I groaned and threw my head back against the pillow. 

He moved his fingers faster, pounding them inside of me at this point. His head shaking to get his tongue as far as it could go, alternating to sucking my clit. I could feel the knot in my stomach ready to snap, the obscene noises from JJ’s fingers inside me was like music to my ears. 

I let go, screaming JJ’s name over and over again. My hips tried to move off the sheet, but JJ threw his arm across me to hold me down. Sucking and licking until I started to twitch. He sat up, a proud smile on his face. I could see his chin glistening with a mix of me and his saliva, he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen him do, I looked down and saw that he had become hard again. The need to feel him inside of me taking over.

“I want you inside of me JJ,” I whispered, the sultriness of my voice surprising me.  

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning down to kiss my cheeks.

“Yes,,I want you.” I said, sliding my hands down his sides.

“You tell me if you want me to stop ok? Do I need a condom?” he asked, raising a brow at me.

“Yes, and no. I’m covered.” I said, pulling his mouth to mine. 

He poked his member where the wetness seeping out of me was, slicking it up before slowly entering inside me. I could feel the sting, my nails dug into his biceps. He stopped for a moment watching my face. I relaxed myself, giving JJ a nod to continue. He slid all the way in, stopping to let me get used to being full of him. We were both panting at this point, JJ’s pupils were blown wide with pleasure. 

After a few moments, JJ started thrusting slowly. The uncomfortable feeling started to fizzle away and I began to feel nothing but pure ecstasy. I gasped when JJ started moving faster. His eyes were glued to where we were becoming one, his breathing becoming short. I grabbed a hold of his hair, yanking his lips to mine. Our tongues moved in sync as we both moaned into each other’s mouths. JJ tilted our hips, the new angle causing him to hit somewhere inside me that made me yelp. I threw my head back, moaning his name as a feeling of pure bliss sky rocketed through me. I could imagine him smirking at me, loving the way he made me say his name. He was pounding into me at this point, an animalistic growl leaving his throat as he chased his high. He brought one hand down to my clit, adding to the exceeding pleasure.

“Are you there baby?” he asked, his breath hitting my lips.

“Yes, fuck.” I squeaked as he hit that spot again.

He started to move faster, the sloshing sounds becoming more obscene from where we were one. His thumb on my clit moved impossibly swift, my legs starting to shake as I was almost to my peak. Both of us let go at the same time, JJ’s head fell to my neck, moaning loudly in my ear. I screamed his name, my legs twitching and shaking as I clenched on his member. My nails scratched hard down his back, a hiss coming from JJ as I’m sure I left welts behind. We both came down from our highs, JJ leaned to plant a soft kiss on my lips. He reached over to get a towel to clean ourselves off, pulling a blanket over us.

“You’re amazing, I’ve never came so hard in my life.” he sighed, flopping down on the sheet.

“You’re lying” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him.

“No I’m serious, I felt like I was having an out of body experience. Rest up my love because we’re doing that again.” he smirked, his hand traveling down to squeeze my ass.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to go again, I think I might have wore you out J.” I giggled, tracing my fingers over his abs.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, quirking a brow at me.

“Maybe..” I mumbled, biting my bottom lip as I stared into his eyes.

He rolled on top of me, his tongue poking out to lick his lips. He leaned down close to me, our lips just brushing together. I breathed out shakily, my eyes wide with anticipation. 

“I love you baby, thank you for giving me you.” he said sweetly, his eyes holding so much love I could have cried.

“You’re the man of my dreams J, there’s no one else I would rather have shared this with.” I grinned.

“And I’ll be the last, that I’m sure of.” he smirked, earning an eye roll from me.

“You’re so full of yourself,” I giggled.

“I plan on keeping you for a long time, so buckle in princess.” he smiled wide, leaning down to kiss me before I could let out my witty reply.

“Love you,” he said against my lips.

“I love you,” I whispered, caressing his cheeks.

[oftenderweapons]

The Studio — Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 9.6k words

Genre: (lots of) smut, angst, final fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello cuties! Welcome back! I had assumed I would be done with Hobi’s piece in the studio quite soon, however it took me some extra hours. Writing it was extremely difficult! Let me remind you that this is NSFW, so minors, please do not read or interact.

PSA — If you’re interested, I was thinking of making a taglist, so you’ll receive a note on your activity feed whenever I publish a new piece (since I know sometimes app notifications do not work). Also, in the next two or three weeks I’ll be busy with university, so I don’t think I’ll be able to write full one-shots. This means I’ll be posting small drabbles that will help me lay the groundwork for all the filth I’ve been storing away from you (and that I’ve hinted in the masterlist). The polls will stay open and you’ll be able to vote for next prompt, however it will take me a while before I start writing again according to your requests.

This piece is a one shot and it takes place in some indefinite future in the official timeline, shortly after him and Giggles have moved in together (quick reminder, Giggles is the nickname he has given the reader, however if you want to know how I imagined her, you can find her headcanons here). 

Synopsis: Giggles has been a little uncomfortable after she has moved into his apartment, mostly because his job has kept him from going back home. After a week of struggle, she heads to Hoseok’s studio to grab her man with the help of special weapons.

DESCRIPTION AND TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst at the beginning, reader is upset and cries. Other than that, this is filthy. NSFW, contains several BDSM themes, such as domination (Dom!reader, Switch!Hoseok and a fluffy dose of vanilla sex because I needed to cleanse my soul), rope bondage (wrists), blindfold, sensation play and mild impact play (flogger, hinted riding crop and tickler), pretty intense edging, teasing, oral sex and masturbation (both male and female receiving), squirting, MULTIPLE ROUNDS (it’s Hoseok, come on!). Emotionally challenging: Hoseok feels guilty as hell, reader is quite angry, but they’re both lovesick puppies by the end of it. Special warning: one bratty Jimin appears at the end of the piece.

Word count: 9.6k

Here is my masterlist! Enjoy!!!

——————————————————

A lowfi mix came from behind Hoseok’s door. He was probably just chilling as he worked on something else. It wasn’t uncommon for him to listen to random stuff as he looked for inspiration, especially since he was currently trying to work with a more old school R’n’B vibe. He had a new artist he wanted to collaborate with and this new genre was becoming increasingly challenging, especially since he wanted it to have that early Two-thousand flow, reminding him of that time he had started venturing into Western hip hop, thinking about dates and girls and teenage crushes.

The bag felt a bit heavier on your shoulder now that the music showed you his mindset. This could turn into a very one-of-a-kind type of night.

You knocked at the door. The music turned down a notch, as if he wasn’t quite sure he had heard right.

Hesitantly, shutting your eyes tight, you knocked harder before pressing your hand to your chest, curling around it in fear. Hoseok could be harsh when interrupted: though he usually realised and apologised, seeing him mildly disappointed always gave you a chill down your spine, and not the good one.

His shadow appeared from behind the opaque glass door.

The door unlocked and opened. “Hey, hello there.” His expression was blank for a second before he realised you were quite neutral, as if trying to square yourself before seeing him.

Something caved in your chest. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes. “Hi.”

“Are you coming in?” He asked.

“I only wanted to ask when you’re coming back home.” You said, your lip slightly trembling.

He blinked.

“I’ve texted you and called you, but you didn’t reply.”

He blinked twice. “What time is it?”

You exhaled and made to turn around and walk away.

“Giggles.” He called, chasing after you and catching you in his arms, backhugging you. “Baby.”

“No. I’m done with baby and all of that. I’m fucking done.” Tears started falling. Your plan had gone to hell. All your mental briefings and getting yourself in the right mindset were useless by now. The bag made you feel twice as frustrated. “I am tired, Hoseok.”

That made him feel like a scolded puppy. You had never uses that tone with him, never used his full name while scolding him.

“I am tired.” Now that your first tear was spilled, all the others came out without any control. “I am exhausted.”

He pressed you harder into him. “I promise it will end soon.” He smiled as he saw you turn and hide into him.

“I am tired of your promises. You made me move in and then disappeared for a week straight. I don’t know where I can put my stuff, I had to handle transport, to talk with my landlord, to do everything by myself. And I’ve been doing double shifts all week. I am raw with exhaustion and I’ve had absolutely zero support.” You sobbed, pressing your pointer finger into his chest, before laying your punch against his breastbone, angry and tired and accusing. “You were supposed to be my certainty but you gave me fucking nothing.” He flinched when he heard you swore. You never swear at him. The fact that you’ve done it twice in the same argument spoke volumes about how angry you were. “You were supposed to give me certainties. But you don’t even answer to my texts.” You punched him weakly. “I hate you so much.”

Now he was worried. Heavily worried. Anxious. “Let’s get in the studio, ____. Come on, love.”

“I don’t want to come in.”

He shook his head, tipping your chin back. “I said, come in.”

“You don’t get to order me around, Hoseok. Not like this. I’ve been doing everything you’ve asked me. I’ve been saying ‘yes, sir’ to every single one of your requests and look where that brought me.” You shoved your face away, out of his grasp.

He cupped your face with both hands. “Look at me.” He ordered. He tried again, softening his voice, panicking as you strongly opposed. “Look at me, little bird.”

You obeyed. It was the fucking nickname’s fault.

“Come in with me. I want to talk about this, make up for my mistakes.” He dried your tears with his thumbs. “I want you to tell me how to fix this. What you want me to do.” He combed your hair back with gentle fingers. “You say I keep ordering you around, and that has made you unhappy. I want to turn the tables. Let you order me what to do.” He started taking tiny steps backwards, toward his door, waddling with you in your arms. “This is the last time I beg you to do what I’ve asked you, for tonight. After this you’re absolutely free, Giggles. It’s all up to you, but please, let’s talk it out in my studio.”

You sniffled. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He smiled weakly.

You followed him.

The studio was clad in soft lights, the bass of the song making the air in the room feel like a warm, inviting, sultry cocoon. He moved to the desk, making the music nothing but a quiet whisper. “Let’s sit on the sofa over there, yeah?” He sat down and patted the cushion beside him.

Reluctantly, you sat down, removing your jacket and placing the bag beside you, on the floor.

“I made a mistake. I didn’t support you. I am sorry. I’ve been busy with my job but that is not an excuse, nor a good reason to disappear while you’re struggling.” He admitted.

“I’ve been sleeping in that bed alone for a week. It was heartbreaking.” You said with a furrowed brow and a pout. “It hurt so much that sadness became anger.”

He combed his hair with his hands. “I fucked up.”

“You did.” You confirmed. “I can handle a bit of loneliness. I’ve been alone for a long time. But that hurts inside your house.”

“It’s our house now.” He argued, deeply unhappy.

“Is it now?” You accused.

You saw his expression turn hurtful. “Are you going to leave?” He said, afraid that that would be his punishment. He knew there would be a price to pay, he just hoped it wouldn’t cost him his whole happiness with you.

“I can’t handle it now. Plus I don’t have much choice. It’s either there or my parents but I can’t move out of the city and do double shifts at work.” You said. “I’m stuck here because I trusted you. Because I gave up all my alternatives for you. You told me to trust you, that I could count on you. What am I going to do now?”

You looked so broken. He felt his eyes well with tears. His voice came out shaky. “Tell me what to do. Anything.”

“You’re gonna do what you want anyways.” You said, a bit hostile.

“No. Please, can you tell me what to do?” He tried to hold your hand. You let him.

“I want you home tonight.” You said, naming your price.

“Okay.” He felt ready to do anything. If you asked him to fly all the way to Paris and bring a box of macarons, champagne and fresh red roses, he would simply whip his phone out and look for the next flight. Fuck, he would teach himself how to fly a plane if need be.

“I want you home every night for the next week. I want dinner together.” You said, punching your index finger into your thigh. “You can use your home studio after dinner, I don’t care, you can stay up all night, but I swear if I have to fall asleep one more night alone in that damn bed, I’m going to gut you.”

“Okay.” He hadn’t come back home because he knew that having you around would mean getting no work done, as he much preferred giving you attention and laying down with you, watching a movie or putting to good use that big bed of his.

“And I want cuddles.”

“Yes, love.”

“Daily cuddles.”

He smiled as you contested like a child. “Yes, little bird.”

“And I want sex at least once a week for the next month.” You said, knowing that you could have much better than that, but you were aiming at the bare minimum.

“Once a week?” He asked, a bit dumbfounded.

“At least.”

That had him nodding. “Can do.”

“Pinkie promise.”

He smiled wider, hooking his pinkie with yours. “Pinkie promise.” As you pressed your thumbs together, sealing the deal, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “What now? Can I hug you?”

“No. Go lock the door.” He looked at you dubious.

“Lock it.” You repeated.

He stood up and obeyed. “Now what?”

The negotiation had set you back into your original path. You had come for revenge and you were ready to execute it. “On your chair.” He was going to see how it feels to be powerless. Lost. Alone.

His heartbeat started increasing. He wanted to see where your plan was going to take him. He sat on his chair. “Here.”

“Close your eyes.” Your voice shook a little. You cleared it and said again: “Close your eyes, now.”

He bit his lip. He was getting turned on. A part of himself asked him how sick he must be for this, but he followed your lead, closing his eyes and laying his hands on the armrests. “Are you going to punish me?”

You shook your head before realising that he couldn’t see your movements. “I am going to do as I please.”

He snickered.

“Quiet.” You warned quietly.

He licked his lips and regained his composure. “Sorry.”

You bent and opened the bag. You found your first bundle and started unraveling it, walking back and forth in front of the sofa, stopping with your back to him.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Really?” He asked, incredulous.

“Do I look like I am joking?” You replied from over your shoulder.

“Okay.” He undressed quickly, letting his clothes fall to the floor. “Do you want me to...”

“Quiet.” You repeated. 

He closed his eyes and bent his head down. He was naked on the chair, unsurprised by his own erection.

You took a few steps towards him. As soon as you reached him, you gave him further instructions. “Do not open your eyes. I am going to touch you but if you open your eyes, you won’t like the consequences.”

“Wait.” Hoseok murmured. “How are you feeling now?”

You stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Are you angry at me?” Hoseok asked, his voice meek, hesitant, unhappy. “I’ve never seen you like this. I’m worried.”

You couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t tie him up and torture him to tears, break him like that. Even though you really wanted to.

“I’m angry a bit, yes.” You replied. You exhaled, waiting in silence.

“I don’t think we should be doing this, then.” He suggested quietly. “I’ll be honest. You’re scaring me a little.”

You placed the rope on top of the desk, out of his angle of vision. “Open your eyes”, you said, placing your hands on his cheeks. His stare met yours. “What if I tell you my plans and you tell me if you’re okay with it?”

He pressed his face against your belly, kissing it. “I’m so sorry.” He nuzzled into your shirt. “I feel so bad.”

You moved your hands from his cheeks to his hair. “This is how I’m helping you with your guilt.” You massaged his shoulders. “I want to take care of you. You must have been so stressed here.”

“I’m the one at fault. I should be the one taking care of you.” He said with big puppy eyes. He looked up at you with his chin propped against your stomach.

“You can take care of me by letting me take the lead. Right now I need to feel like I can control something.” You traced his lips with your thumb, your index finger tracing the ridge of his nose with its lovely curve.

“Then control me.” He said, puckering his lips around your thumb.

“Are you still scared of me?” You asked.

“I’m scared of you going too far or pushing myself too far to please you.” He confessed. “But it’s something unconscious. I know I can trust you.”

“Still, I could tell you my plans.” You suggested sweetly.

“I trust you.”

“You don’t have to do stuff you don’t feel like doing just to please me.” You reminded him politely.

“That’s why we have safewords. When I don’t feel good I’ll use them.” He said, matter-of-factly. “They’re not there only for you.” He smiled.

You were quite curious about how his nakedness seemed to unfaze him. But then again, after more than a year together, at this point nakedness in front of each other felt natural.

“Don’t push yourself just to please me.” You scolded him.

“I won’t. If I don’t feel good, we stop and I’ll make love to you.” He stated plainly.

You thought about it. After all this time you knew Hoseok’s limits and insecurities. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He settled back into his chair, his hands gripping the armrests. He closed his eyes. “I’m ready.”

His chest was so skinny. It felt like staring at a hummingbird. “Are you keeping your eyes closed or would you like a blindfold?”

He smiled. “Kinky.” He breathed out. He paused. “Blindfold.”

You smirked and grabbed it from your backpocket. You already knew he would have chosen to wear it. “I will touch you now Hoseok. Let’s see if you can recognise it.” You stretched towards the rope on his table, keeping it rolled up and brushing it gently against his face.

“Oh.” He rubbed his cheek against it, pressing his lips and then parting them to use his tongue. “I’m getting tied up, aren’t I?” He asked.

“Would you like to?” You asked. Blindfolded and tied up was always a daring combination. You had first done it for his birthday, but back then you hadn’t intended to overstimulate him to tears. That time you had simply used your advantage to give him the ride of his life, physically restraining him from taking control and straining himself to please you. The bondage technique had helped you keep him still long enough to relax. After almost literally sucking him dry, you had managed to ride him, watch him come apart for the fourth time and see him fall asleep like a kid at your side, not a care in the world. It had been a wildly satisfying experience.

“Are you going to use me like last time?” He asked, eyes still closed but his hands reaching out for you.

“Not really.” You commented. “I was thinking of something… softer? So to say.” You bit your lip. He couldn’t see your devious smile anyway.

“I’m interested.” He said, blindly running his hands down your thighs. “Tell me what to do.”

Clutching the rope between your thighs, you used one hand to comb his hair and trace the lovely lines of his face. “I’ll put the blindfold on you now, Hoseok. Is that okay, handsome?”

“Yes.” He said, his cheeks twitching with a small smile.

Putting a blindfold on someone else is a lot more difficult than it seems, however you managed to press the wide silken mask against his eyes, hooking the elastic band with your fingers and slipping it behind his head. “Is it safe?”

“Yes, Giggles.” He replied, turning his head in an attempt to kiss your wrist. You noticed the gesture and offered him your hand, brushing the back of it against his cheek. He managed to press his lips to your knuckles. “I love you.”

You bent down and let your lips hover over his. “Can you feel me?”

“So close.” He whispered. Sometimes he had this sixth sense, like his body — so used to perceive himself in time and space while dancing — had this special sensibility to closeness. Depriving him of sight made it look even more supernatural. It made you feel like he could perceive you spiritually. It felt religious. Metaphysical. You had missed this connection and you had been craving it for a while.

“Can you kiss me, Hoseok?”

He licked your lips in reply, his mouth hanging open, his lower lip brushing against yours so sensually that you envelopped it in yours, sucking.

He moaned, your eyes closing as you felt your body reach another level of arousal. It felt extraordinary. It felt like you were making love to your own body through his nakedness and arousal. Feeling this wanted, exploiting this bond between the two of you, the way your body mirrored his sensations, it was stronger than anything you had ever experienced.

You let go of his lip. “I’m gonna start tying you up now. This is the right moment to stop me, bub.”

“Keep going.” He said, his voice slightly gravelly.

“Okay.” You moved around the chair, studying how to use your prop smartly.

You noticed two thin metal tubes connecting the headrest to the back of the chair. Interesting. You unravelled your bundle of rope and found the middle quickly thanks to the mark placed there.

You remembered Hoseok coming back home with a big box, placing it on top of the coffee table as you were chilling on the sofa. “I want it cut, marked and hemmed by nine o’ clock.” He had said, voice dark, as he offered you a sewing kit and a fabric meter. “You’ll find instructions in the box.” He kissed your head as you sat on the floor and opened the box, dumbfounded. “I can’t use it tonight, but I’ll reward you if you do a good job.” Inside there was one entire spool of rope: the tag read “a hundred meters - pure cotton”. You spent the rest of the evening attending to your chore. Once you were done, you went knocking at Hoseok’s door. He spent the rest of the night repaying you for your fine accomplishment.

“Can you place your hands on your nape” You asked, noticing that he did so immediately.

“Thank you.” You chirped as you started tying him up, placing two fingers between his skin and the rope to make sure you didn't tighten too much. The position was delicate since his blood circulation could be affected by his forearms being upside down, tying the knot too tight would inevitably mean worsening the situation.

Once his wrists were safely secured to the small steel tube, you checked on him. “Is it good, bubs? Too tight?”

“I'm good, thank you, Giggles.” He replied.

“I’m going to grab my bag quickly. I’ll be a few steps away for a couple seconds, bubs.” You said, making sure that he didn’t panic as you stepped away.

A sultry, suggestive song came on, a slow Nineties hip hop track. It was inspirational, especially as you picked up your bag and placed it on top of his desk, near you and his chair, making sure that you wouldn’t need to leave him alone for longer than a couple seconds. Any person with a sliver of common sense would understand it is an awfully bad idea to leave someone bound, blindfolded and unguarded.

You stood in front of him with your hands behind your back and bent to his ear. “I’m here.” You murmured before standing up and dragging your nails down his neck and chest, stopping right at his stomach without neglecting his nipples, circling around them a couple times. He looked delicious, his cock hard and leaking on his lower abs. You observed the twitching of his slim shaft, the lovely curve of it, the taunting pink of his tip glimmering with wetness.

Teasingly, biting your lip, you gathered some of his precum on your fingertip, his lips parting with a purring sound.

“Giggles, please.” He whined.

You smiled as he exhaled, his mouth hanging open, and you deviously slipped your fingertip past his lips.

“Can you taste how turned on you are, Hobi?” You murmured, pressing your digit against his tongue.

He bit down playfully before twirling the tip of his tongue around your finger.

Giggling, you removed it.

“Does it tickle?” He asked.

You licked your lip. “Maybe.”

He shook his head just as you punished his disrespect with a gentle slap on his cheek. “You’re in no position to play games, Hoseok.”

He regained his composure. “Sorry.”

You shook your head yourself, standing up and moving behind him. His sides were vulnerable with his hands tied up and behind his head. You started thinking how you could use this against him. For now you simply decided that his inner forearms were normally sensitive enough to be a good starting point. He always started from your inner forearms. Drawing lines and twirls with your nails, you saw him shiver, his mouth gaping.

“You’ve moved.” He murmured, his fingers wiggling as he searched for contact, giving up once he noticed there was no chance. Daring and playful, you tickled his palms, moving so quickly that he didn’t manage to grab you.

His inner upper arm was even more sensitive, however touching it would mean that he would probably be able to touch you back. You could use something to reach out. You stood back, circling around the chair. It was a lot more complicated now. You had thought that seeing him like this would immediately tell you what you wanted to do to him. You had packed a variety of supplies in case sudden inspiration struck you, but now your lack of planning and your excess of toys confused you even more.

You had him naked and tied up to a quite limiting armchair. You knew your goal was to stimulate him as much as possible, listen to his pretty whines and watch him grow more and more desperate. Get him turned on out of his mind. Surprise him.

Kneeling, you patted his knees with your palms. “Open up.”

He inched his hips forward, his torso slouching against the back of the chair, his thighs parting further. “More?” He asked.

“Perfect.” You said, kissing his knees.

“Oh, you’re gonna do it like the other time?” He asked, bucking his hips up and slouching further. “You wanna blow me?”

You smiled, sending a cold breath running up his inner thigh.

His moan followed like a tide, like sunlight chasing the horizon at sunset.

You mirrored the gesture on the other leg, satisfied with the effect you had just elicited. “Do you want me to?” You asked, referring to his proposition.

“Your choice, Giggles.” He murmured, his reply melting into a ‘fuck, yeah’ as you licked up his thigh.

He could imagine your bubblegum pink tongue against the pale skin of his inner leg, your eyelids fluttering closed as you brought your tongue closer to his cock.

He had the softest baby hair on his inner leg. You wondered how it could be so thin and soft. Once you reached his crotch, you parted your mouth from his skin, your hot breath fanning on the sensitive head of his cock. Making sure that your hair was out of the way, you kissed the skin of his abdomen following the shadow that his sex projected on his belly. The point was that of being that close but not touching him.

It turned a bit more difficult when his hips jerked in an attempt to connect his cock with your lips while you sucked a love bite right on top of where his tip was laying. You moved back. “Stay still, Hoseok. Don’t make me tie up your legs too.” You warned. He huffed out a strained breath and shivered as you continued your trip down the other side with small kisses, finally licking down the other thigh, sitting back on your heels and placing a sweet peck on his knee. Now that his whole crotch area, thighs and abs were wet, blowing cold air all over him was even more fun, your lips directing your breath on different parts, making him try to escape your evil attentions.

“Giggles, you’re so bad.” He mewled, a tiny, desperate laugh underlining his sentence.

Your hands reached the base of his feet, your nails dragging against the natural crease at the center of his foot.

“It tickles.” He said, his legs jumping up as he tried to escape that sensorial torture.

“No touching you there?” You asked, eyebrows curving upwards in wonder. “Okay.”

He planted his feet firmly on the base of his office chair. “Please.” He said.

“It’s okay, Hobi.” You replied sweetly. His dancer feet were too sensitive for that and you’d rather avoid him moving too much and possibly falling from the chair. “How are you feeling?” You asked, standing up. You were at a crossroad. From his answer depended the rest of the evening.

“I’m doing great. This feels incredible, Giggles.” He smiled, complimenting you.

“Are you down for a level up?” You asked.

He nodded. “I’m curious.”

“Choose a number from one to three.” You asked him, your voice bubbly.

“What is it?” He asked. He was afraid of the consequences. Was it going to be the number of times he was allowed to cum? Or maybe something else?

“Just a game, Hobi. Choose a number.” You repeated.

A bit hesitant he said: “Two.” He said. Like us, he thought. He kept the idea to himself, thinking it cheesy. Plus two was halfway. Nothing bad can happen if you stay halfway, right?

You raised your eyebrows and considered cheating. He would never know. You had really prepared three toys and numbered them, however, out of the three objects you had prepared, number two was the one that scared you the most, convincing yourself to pack it just in case he flipped and took the lead. Hoseok could be extremely powerful with that tool in hand and it was probably your favourite accessory for him to use on you.

Unfortunately — or maybe very fortunately — it was you who had to control it tonight.

With quite some courage, you pushed your hand into the bag, finding the handle and gripping it tight as you extracted the black leather device from the bag. The tails of the flogger met your skin gently, caressing it with their delicate, velvety touch. Each tail was made of suede, giving a special feel to the touch. He had never openly admitted how expensive it was, but you knew it was a lot.

As your dominant hand held the handle, the other toyed with the tails, gripping them and wrapping them around your fist; looking at Hoseok, you started thinking where to start.

Easy.

His inner arms were there, pale, slender and so sensitive. “Can you feel me?” You asked, bending down, your breath tickling the free skin of his wrists.

“Yes.” He commented. “Behind my back. You’re so close but I can’t reach you.” He whined, struggling a little against the rope.

“Are your hands okay? Is the knot too tight?” You checked.

He breathed out. “Yes, I’m okay. Thank you.” He stilled on the chair since he realised he couldn’t touch you.

“My pleasure, Hoseok.” You replied, spurring him on a little. “Would you like me to tell you what’s the number you chose?”

He thought about it, but he realised that most of the arousal he was experiencing was because of the complete unexpectedness of each sensation. “Surprise me.”

You smiled, running the butt of the handle against his upper arm, teasing the top of his armpit. He shivered adorably, the sensation making his arm tingle with goosebumps.

“How does it feel?” You asked, curious.

“Wicked. But also interesting.” He replied, shivering again as you repeated the gesture on the other side. “Very sensitive.”

“Can you guess what it is?” You asked, gripping the flogger from where the tails met the handle, leaving the underside of the shaft free to press against his lips. He sniffed it. “Leather.” He sniffed some more. “Your hand lotion. Is it the handle of something?” He asked, dragging his cheek against it.

In the meanwhile you made sure that the tails were wrapped tight around your fist so that they wouldn’t give you away. “Maybe.” You replied, removing the object from his face and unwrapping the suede straps from your other palm, keeping the toy away from him. You trapped all the tails back, leaving only one out. That’s how to start.

Hoseok, momentarily blinded, kept thinking of what the object could possibly be. “Is the number connected to what you’re using now?”

“Yes. Each number meant a toy. I’m using number two right now.” You said, letting that single string drag from the small hollow between his collarbones down to his belly button. Your small hand struggled around the instrument, however your nerves helped you keep a tight grip.

“You have more than one?” He asked, moaning as the tail tickled the base of his cock. “What the hell is it?” He said, thrusting his hips upward. “Fuck, please.” He murmured, as you teased his balls. You grinned. “It’s the riding crop, uh? You love that one.” He murmured, just as you moved your hand far from his body, letting the tails fall free before snapping your wrist, making the strings swish.

Hoseok listened to the noise attentively, however the background music kept him from properly identifying the sound. “Is it something we have used before?”

You hit your palm again, softly, knowing that the hip hop track was going to make the toy unrecognisable. As you stood in front of his face, you leaned down and snapped it once more, making sure that he would feel the air move as the tails slapped your hand. Doing it this delicately made it feel almost pleasurable against your skin.

“Yes, we’ve used it before.”

You stood up again, letting the tails hang low. Noticing his length dripping in wetness, you snapped the toy once more against your palm, still far from his skin, simply producing an air current.

“Dammit, please, I just wanna cum.” He cried out.

“Guess my toy and I’ll reward you.” You teased.

He whimpered. “Come on, we’ve tried at least twenty together.” He lamented. “And you’ve given me so little.”

“Then let me give you more.” You giggled, This time you took a deep breath. Courage. You wanted him to hear it for real, not the caressing sweeps, but the harsh, punishing ones he usually delivered. Maybe those would sound more familiar. Exhaling, you hit your clothed thigh. You moaned: it could feel so sweet in your own hand, when you could control it and with the barrier of your jeans.

“It’s leather, I’m sure.” He commented.

You snapped once more, your cunt clenching, wetness making you feel uncomfortable between your thighs as you noticed him flinch at the sound. “Are you sure it’s leather, Hoseok?”

When he heard the third smack, he went insane. It felt unreal to be there, to wait for a hit that wouldn’t come, or even worse to be deep in thought, so close to the answer, but to be brought back to reality with the swishing and clicking sound of whatever it was you were holding. “If you say it like that, I’m not sure.”

Grinning, you let the tails hover over his skin, tickling the air around them, charging his skin with goosebumps. He felt electric. “Is this helping you?” You asked, letting the suede skim his skin.

“Oh. So you’re using my weapons against me...” He wondered just as your free hand cupped his balls, squeezing them gently. He was being too cocky anyway. His following moan decisively toned down his arrogance.

“Sorry.” He whined. “Please.” He moaned while your hand pushed the flogger away, your torso bending forward as you stretched to lick the tip of his cock, collecting the hot droplet of cum he had just spilled. “____, I’m begging, please.”

“Please what?” You murmured against his abdomen.

As he began talking you sucked the smooth head of his dick into your mouth, listening to him stammering and moaning in an attempt to speak. With a sweet stutter he cried out. “Wanna cum. Please.”

You released his sex. “You know the rules. Guess the toy and I’ll let you cum. Don’t make me say it again.” You stood straight and moved the flogger back between his legs, the tails teasing his inner thighs. “How come you haven’t recognised it yet?” You teased.

“It’s a tickler.” He moaned. “The one with the feathers.” He huffed out, just as you caught once more the tails in your palm, wrapping them around your hand and moving your grip, freeing the butt of the handle.

“No, love. I’m sorry.” You said, feigning discontent, but secretly grinning.

He cried out. “Oh, come on, what is it!” He growled, his voice sliding into a whimper as you sucked one of his balls into your mouth.

“Fuck it, Giggles. Please.”

He had said ‘please’ at least four times tonight, that you remembered. Maybe even more. You sucked harder.

“Love your mouth, baby,” he rambled, his sanity long forgotten in the unpredictable events of the evening. He felt his guts tightening, his abs clenching. “So good. Shit.”

As you spotted the telltale pulsing in your mouth, you let go of him.

“No, please. Please.” He begged. It was your favourite word on your lips. When he begged. When he begged to lick you, to let him make you squirt, to slap your delicate breasts, to fuck your mouth, to change position ‘just one more time’, to let him ram into you for the third, fourth ride even if you were tired and overstimulated, your brains only capable of telling him yes because you were too fucked out, too greedy, too in love with him to ever deny him.

“You made a dumb guess, Hobi. How can a tickler make that sound? You heard the smack, before, didn’t you.” You pressed the butt of the toy against his shaft, delicately, dragging it up and down in a very upsetting imitation of a handjob.

He keened as several drops of cum bubbled up from his slit and dribbled down his cock.

“You’re so turned on, uh?” You snickered, teasing him ruthlessly. “You’re barely coherent.”

He couldn’t wrap his head around how his sweet, sparkly, submissive Giggles, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his precious jewel could turn into such a sadistic, cruel creature.

He had probably ruined you.

He was almost glad. Proud of you.

“Giggles, love. Please, have mercy, baby. You can’t hurt me. You love me.” He murmured, trying to convince himself.

You let him breathe, moving the handle away from his sensitive sex.

“I love you. That’s why I need you to recognise the toy.” You cooed. “You’ve heard how it sounds, and felt how it feels. You can do it, bubs.” You bent to his mouth, letting your lips linger over his.

“It swishes and smashes, but it’s a dry, light smash. Not a paddle. Not a tickler, and not a riding crop either. It’s either a cat-o-nine-tales or a flogger.” He murmured.

“Good boy.” You praised him. “What is it, then Hoseok?”

He felt insane. The moment he realised it was one of the two, he started imagining you holding one, getting even more turned on at the thought. “Use it on me.” He asked. “Please.” He could almost see you, your small figure, your tiny hands wrapped around the thick leather base, the cute flinch on your face as you whipped the tails against your thigh. “Use it on me.” He wished he could see you for real. He just needed you to do it once, to be comfortable to eventually do it again, someday — possibly within the next month — to see you actually use the flogger on him. He felt like going insane.

You frowned. You weren’t skilled enough for using it like that.

Whipping yourself over your clothes was one thing, but hitting him? Naked? Tied up? No. You told him.

“I can’t, Hoseok.”

“Please.” He cried out. “I trust you.” He said, quietly reassuring you. “Place me so that the front of my thigh is free, and direct the blow across my thigh, towards the outer side.”

You breathed a couple times. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He cried out in relief.

Following his directions, you placed him correctly on the chair, his thigh hanging midair. With your back to him, you murmured quietly “Ready?”

He simply breathed out a ‘yes’.

His cry was immediate. “Oh god, Giggles. Fuck.” You had been heavy handed, still he hadn’t perceived the bite of the small silver balls that his cat-o-nine-tales sported. “Flogger.” He moaned. “Wanna cum, please.”

You immediately dropped the flogger on top of his table. “That’s right, bubs. You’ve been a very good boy.”

He pushed his hips upward. “Your mouth, please.” He begged. “Inside.” He sobbed.

You undressed quickly, your shirt coming off in a second and your jeans following right after. With only your panties on, you kneeled on the floor, not quite making yourself noticed.

“Where are you?” He cried out. “Giggles?”

“Here.” You called. “Between your legs.” You kissed his knee. “You look beautiful, Hoseok. So damn beautiful.” Your mouth climbed up towards his lap, quick and practical, your tongue drawing a line of saliva up his thigh. “I’ll give you thirty seconds. If you don’t cum at that, I’ll stand up, take off your blindfold and touch myself while your hands are tied. Got it?”

He whimpered.

“Got it?” You asked again. 

“Yes, Giggles.” He replied, as composedly as possible.

“Good.” You said, before swallowing him.

He groaned, pushing his hips up towards your face. His chair rolled back a bit, but thankfully you grabbed the armrests and managed to secure it.

With wicked intentions you pulled him out, rolling the chair away so that the back sticked to the edge of his desk, keeping it from moving. “Count to thirty for me, Hoseok.”

You didn’t give him time to reply, sinking back onto him.

“One,” he whimpered as you used your hands to stroke the parts you couldn’t take into your mouth.

“Oh, two.” He groaned, pushing some more. You pinched his thigh, reprimanding him for his thrust.

He jumped at that before he cried out a three, panting heavily. “I’m gonna cum.”

Again you pinched.

“Three.” He said with a shrill.

By the count of nine, his hips got impatient, thrusting into you some more, but — lucky him — you felt merciful and disregarded his disobedience as you started to bob your head, before hearing him breathe louder and faster. ���That’s it. Giggles, fuck. Love it. So good. Love you.” He managed to babble before he came apart.

You simply stayed there, eyes rimmed with tears, holding your breath as his cum kept spilling inside you. It took him five or six shots before he stilled, empty and spent. Oxygen felt like a blessing once you pulled him out, his tip resting on your tongue. Both your and his breathing were heavy and rushed as you removed your head from his lap and tested it against his thigh.

“Wanna see you, Giggles.” He murmured, his voice hoarse after all the moaning and growling and panting. “Take off the blindfold, baby.” He asked, ready to take control. You were the one who needed attention right now.

“Just a minute.” You murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his leg and closing your eyes.

“Now, Giggles.” He ordered with some urgency.

With a deep sigh, you stood on your knees, stretching towards his face to take off the silk band from his eyes. It took a couple attempts because you couldn't reach perfectly, however you finally managed to uncover him, his eyes immediately focusing on you.

“Hello, little bird.” He said, his tone already sporting that sardonic, telltale undertone. He was going for revenge.

A fearful wave rolled down your spine.

“Hi, Hoseok.” You replied, a bit hazed.

“Can you untie me, little bird? Please?” He asked, but his plea didn't hold the previous submission. This was simply a polite request. “I know you’re tired, pretty thing. Just untie me, I’ll take care of you, I promise, angel.” He said, spotting the way you looked at him like a scared wild animal. “I can’t even cuddle you right now.” He wiggled his wrists. “It hurts like hell to see you this vulnerable and not being allowed to cuddle you, little bird.” His voice expressed affection now, his mood completely changed after he had seen you: the discomfort of your treatment was still fresh but he couldn’t bring himself to torture you back after seeing you curled up between his legs.

You kissed his thigh a little helplessly before whining as you stood up.

“That’s my good girl.” He praised you with a quiet voice.

Undoing the knot was extremely easy. You liked using knots that were simple to undo once you released the safety hook — a reasonable amount of rope strategically tucked into the knot that once tugged simply makes the rope fall to the ground. Hoseok was usually reasonable enough not to untie himself, which meant you could still untie him easily even when your body was tired and your mind felt fuzzy.

When the rope fell to the ground, Hoseok stood still, holding position. Once he jammed a knot because he moved too early and you sulked at him for a week because he made you cut the rope into three unusable lengths. “May I?” He asked.

“Yes.” You confirmed.

He immediately turned the chair so that he was facing you. His arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tight as you stood between his legs.

“You’ve been so good, Giggles. You’ve been perfect, little bird.” He pulled you into him, making you sit on his lap. “How are you feeling, dove?”

“A bit unsettled.” You admitted. “Strange.”

“What got into you?” He asked, smiling as he stroked your cheek. “You were devilish, pretty thing.”

“I don’t know. I think I was inspired.” You admitted, sinking into his neck, nuzzling into the curve below his ear.

“How did you feel with the flogger?” He asked, caressing your spine gently. He felt soft for you. To hell with revenge, he’d much rather make love to you. Show you all his appreciation for the scene you had staged, your spirit of initiative and the courage you had displayed in taking the lead with the flogger.

“I liked it. It felt new and strange.” You admitted, your arms connecting behind his neck, your hand combing the hair at his nape. “It felt different from when you do it.”

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“It’s not just the role reversal. I felt more confident because I called the shots. I manoeuvred it, so it didn’t feel like I was waiting for it to hurt. The excitement was different.” You kissed his jaw.

Hoseok turned, using his bangs to tickle your cheek. You giggled meekly. “It’s all about having the power to do the unexpected. See how far the other person allows you to go.” He kissed your neck. “I like using it on you because you’re always so soft afterwards. You’re super needy and cuddly and I like assisting you like that.” His hand moved to your side, caressing you reassuringly before his hand ventured under the waistband of your panties, rubbing your ass. “And seeing how far you let me go with the scene makes me see how much you trust me and love me. It’s hot but also cute and affectionate.” He pulled his hand out, dragging it up, skimming your side and cupping your breast, his skilled fingers toying with your nipple. “Do you want me to take care of you?” He asked, his index finger hooking under your chin and pushing your face up, to look at him.

You looked up at him from under your lashes, pouting and giving him the best impression of puppy eyes.

He smiled at you. “What?” He said, with a small chuckle, booping your nose.

“I want your mouth.” You said, biting your lip.

“Where.” He asked, rubbing your tummy, his fingertips toying with the waistband of your panties.

You looked down at your crotch, licking your lip and rolling your eyes coquettishly. “Down there, sir?”

He laughed and bent to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “Want me to eat you out, little bird?” He snarled and bit your round, fluffy cheek. “Eat you alive?” He asked, holding you tight as he repeatedly sunk his teeth on the fat covering your cheekbone. “Such a naughty girl!” He said, tickling your sides.

Your laugh bubbled up your throat, exploding in a fit of giggles.

“That’s it. The most beautiful sound on the face of earth.” He calmed down once he noticed your short breath. “I love you, ____.” He reminded you.

You smiled so wide your eyes closed. “I love you too.” You stretched your neck to reach his mouth. His lips parted for you, the tip of his tongue drawing the seam of your lips as you disclosed them for him. The kiss was demanding, as usual. The hard, teasing strokes he delivered with the tip of his tongue gave way to a tango of thrusts and twirls, a mind blowing game of flight and chase, small clashing of teeth and sucking bruises onto each other’s lips. You didn’t even know how much time had passed before he gripped your waist, pushing you up. “Stand, little bird.” He murmured softly.

Carefully, you rose to your feet, making sure that your knees didn’t give out below you. His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties. He immediately spotted the wet patch on your grey cotton. “Cute penguin print.” He commented. “Very cute.” He said, his finger moving to toy with the drenched fabric, exposing you. He slid down the chair, kneeling. You took half a step back, only to meet the hard edge of his desk. He had cornered you. You only managed to press your palms into the desk, making sure not to knock anything over or accidentally ruin any equipment.

“Right leg on my shoulder, little dove.” He ordered, his eyes zeroing in on you with a predatory gleam.

You obeyed. Not that you had much choice.

“You’re so wet, Giggles. You enjoyed torturing me this much?” He asked, licking the gusset of your panties. “So nasty.”

“You sounded so good.” You commented, one hand combing his hair back and subtly pushing his mouth against you. “And you tasted even better.”

“These are too cute to rip.” He said, looking at your panties. “I need them off, dove.”

He helped your leg down, immediately dragging the garment down your legs. “Fuck, you’re so drenched.” He growled, noticing the tendrils of arousal sticking your labia together as he placed your leg back on his shoulder. His right arm, free to move, immediately bent so that his hand could spread your wetness all along your slit, before his index and middle finger sank into you, immediately meeting your sweet spot.

“Oh God! Hoseok, please!” One of your hands parted from the table, grabbing his hair.

“Does it feel good?” He asked, crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion. You knew what he wanted to do.

“I’m gonna make a mess, Hobi.” You warned him before a wanton mewl left your lips, betraying you.

“So, do you like it?” He asked again, rubbing his fingers and stretching you out.

“Yes, sir.” You moaned, trying to meet his mouth with your hips. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“You’re about to like it even more, little bird. Hold on tight.” He warned before latching his mouth onto your clit and beginning to torture it with the hard flicks of his tongue. His eyes met yours and you knew he was really going for it. He had that look that meant challenge. You abandoned yourself to your fate.

“Hoseok. Dammit.” You hoped your leg would hold you up because both your hands rushed to his head, pressing it against your cunt. The arm holding your leg moved upwards, sustaining your lower back.

The shift was immediate, the inner sense of burning and the distinct sensations of your inner walls clenching out of your control warning you of what was about to happen. “Hoseok.” You called simply as that overwhelming tide took you under. Your eyes clenched tight, your lower leg quivering dangerously as your orgasm invested him. You knew you had likely squirted over him, especially for the wetness running down your leg. You just hoped there wasn’t a small pool of liquid on his floor.

“That’s it, Giggles. Fucking phenomenal.” He praised you as you gently pulled his mouth away from your clit. He kissed your mound chastely before helping your leg down.

“Did I mess up?” You asked, immediately checking for damage.

“Nothing that a few tissues can’t fix.” He said, standing in front of you, stretching behind you to grab a roll of paper, tearing some and kneeling again, drying up the small puddle. Next he dried your inner thigh. “Are you freaking out?” He asked, knowing that squirting always unsettled you a little.

“The normal amount.” You replied, combing his hair as he looked up at you, collecting all the paper towels and throwing them in the bin.

As he stood again, you felt his hard on against your tummy. “Can you do it standing or do you wanna sit?” He asked, hugging you.

“Your choice. I can handle it.” You replied, still a bit hazy with your previous orgasm.

“Turn.” He murmured, spinning you around with his hands on your waist, your hand moving to press his palm against the small of your back, bending you forward a little. “Like this?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

He bent to your ear. “No need to call me ‘sir’, dove. I’m making love to you.” He said, gently dragging the head of his cock against your folds before slipping in. Once he was halfway in, your mouth open in a silent cry, he pulled out, only to move back in all the way with one smooth stroke.

“Hobi, sweet lord.” You purred, leaning on your elbows, as he started pounding into you. He simply grabbed you under your armpits, pressing his palms against your breasts and pushing you back up, making the angle so right and so intense you thought you would explode again there and then.

However, after a few minutes he simply growled and exited you, pushing you up and turning you around, again. Facing him, you could now see the dark lines forming on his thigh from the flogger, and right on top of that the slim indentation of his abdomen, adorned by his glistening, wet, hard cock.

He let you drink him in with your hungry eyes before tipping your chin up, to make your gazes connect. With his eyes on yours, scorching and demanding, he slipped back inside you, enjoying how your eyelids fluttered at the sense of fullness you were experimenting. The hammering restarted immediately, your hand gripping his shoulders, your nails sinking in. In reply, his strong, veiny palm curled around your outer thigh, pushing your leg up and around his waist.

“Touch yourself. I need you to cum.” He said, making small effort into ordering you, keeping his focus on his ramming.

And you made an even smaller effort into obeying, the hard, filling sensation of him inside you was so satisfying that a few circles on your clit was all it took for your head to crash into his shoulder, suppressing a loud moan by biting into his neck. Still, the bite, the vibrations of your whimpers against his throat, your nails sinking into him and your kegels squeezing him brought him to a mind-blowing orgasm. And he went on, even as you called his name like a litany, a sob interrupting you every now and then as you panted.

He took himself half a minute of stillness. “Can you do another?” He asked, both his hands gripping your ass as he picked you up. “Missionary on the sofa. Just one, I promise.” He said, already walking you to his black leather couch.

You nodded, wordless and brainless, simply hissing when the cold material met your back. “Sorry. I know, cold.” He said, caressing your face. “Ready?” He asked.

Again you nodded, looking at him with a pout. He bent down to kiss your lips. “I love you.” He said.

He said it so often. It was his favourite thing to say, mostly because you would offer him your sweetest smile and your eyes would sparkle with surprise and arousal, just like the first time he had confessed to you. Just like the first time he had bound your wrists on top of your head, kissing all the way down your body, showing you how much adoration his body and his mind could muster.

As he sank into you, you cried out his name tenderly.

“I’ve got you, little dove.” He said, cradling your head in the crook of his arm. “My pretty little bird.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, drawing the shape of your lips. “I’ll be home, in our bed tonight.” He slipped his thumb into your mouth, wetting it. “I’ll make you so happy, Giggles.” He removed it, bringing it to your clit, delicately rubbing circles into your skin. “It’s all I wanna do.” He pressed his lips restlessly to your mouth and chest, your eyes following his movements in slow motion. You were so far gone you even doubted the sensation between your legs when you felt a new tightness ready to snap.

“Close.” You mouthed somewhere on his chest or neck or shoulder. It felt like slow dancing in a dark room. Except he was inside you and the rocking motion relaxed you so completely that you simply let go, not even listening to him saying to hold on, to make it last a second more, to focus on him.

You simply smiled as pleasure took over, Hoseok himself falling on top of you as his hips lost their pattern and let go of any semblance of control and tempo. His mouth pressed into your nipple as he moaned in release.

You both felt like dead bodies afterwards, laying there empty, spent, completely lost. You could have died without a bother. You could have kept existing without a bother, your bodies resting and waking in an endless cycle, the same way day and night follow each other. You were one thing, one entity, not even one body — any relation to material substance was momentarily suspended.

“Giggles.” He checked in on you. “Baby, we should go home, uh? I don’t have stuff to spoil you here, dove.” He said with a worried note.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

“There she is. Hello, sunshine.” He said, trying to fix your hair. “Let me fix the room before we go, yes?”

You smiled. “Let me help.” You said, only half convinced.

He tutted. “No, sweetie. You lay there and I fix this.” He slipped out of you, standing up slowly, a little clumsily. He immediately went to his desk grabbing his cup of water and sinking a corner of his t-shirt, dabbing at his face and chest, then down at his crotch. Next, he walked towards you, using another wet corner to clean you up. “There.” He said, kissing your knee once he was done. Next he dressed you, manoeuvring your body to slip your clothes on. With a bottle of generic cleanser randomly laying on his drawer, he made sure that no stain remained on the floor where he had eaten you out. Standing in his boxers, he rolled the rope back in a tight coil, placing it back into the bag, together with the flogger, making a mental note to clean it once he arrived home. He didn’t even check what you had packed. He was impatient to shower and cuddle with you at home. Your shared home.

Slipping on his sweater, he looked around, checking for potential hints of what had happened. He shrugged once he saw none. He shut down his computer, checking for the other devices to be off too. Finally, he spritzed some of his cologne on himself and the room. “Okay. We’re good, Giggles. Let’s go.”

You groaned before sitting up and waiting for him to offer you his hand to help you up. “That playlist was pretty bomb.” You said. “We should keep it for our wild nights.”

“I’m using it for my next collab.” He replied, closing down the studio and slipping his shoes on. You did the same at his side. “Maybe you will enjoy my song.” He said, winking at you.

“Oh, hi guys! What are you doing here?” Jimin chirped behind you.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Hi. You’re here late.”

“Just passing by.” Jimin said. “Forgot my laptop.” He shook his head. “Hello, Giggles!” He said to you.

It felt ridiculous how all the boys used the nicknames for you and the other girlfriends. Still, it didn’t bother you, since it reminded you of your bond with Hoseok, but also of that familiarity within the group. “Hi Jimin!” You chirped, a little nervous at the possibility of him knowing what had happened in Hoseok’s studio.

“Well, goodnight!” Jimin said sweetly. “I assume you won’t be at the dorms tonight.”

Hoseok tutted. “I’ll be staying with Giggles. She moved in.” He said with a happy tone.

“I’m happy for you. However I hope you won’t be walking out with that tickler hanging out of the bag.” He winked with a teasing remark. “Enjoy it.” He trotted off.

Standing beside Hoseok, you blushed all the way to the tip of your ears.

Hoseok snickered. “Brat.”

Well, he was Princess’ problem now, anyway.

[charlotte-headcanons]

I'm ashamed......I am.....but can I have some yandere Mont D'orxRobin headcanons, please?

Hi friend! We can do that for you! Important PSA, though, we won't be normally doing ship requests. We can talk about possible ships, and of course, feel free to share your (no matter how crack) ships with us at all times, but we'd rather not write full headcanons for any! Still, since we talked about this before, didn't state that rule before, and because we're mutuals, we'll make an exception for you this time! Hope what we came up with is to your liking ☺️

Ship stuff and yandere content below. Don't read if it sounds like it's not for you!

To be honest, imagining Mont D'Or as a yandere... Is not an easy task. He's a loud and intense man, not really someone to scheme or hide any obsessions behind a mask of care. As we expressed before, it's way more likely for him to behave like a tsundere, recognizing his feelings only after a long time of behaving rude and moody towards a love interest.

Still, if we're talking about Robin, we're talking about an enemy of Big Mom Pirates and Totto, a Strawhat. This is not someone who Mont D'Or can get close to while giving himself enough time to process that his feelings towards that person are positive and that it's not wrong to feel that way. The opposite, in fact, the negative aspects of his personality may intensify as the more he feels like he might have a thing for that enemy, the more he will hate himself and them for feeling this way. It's wrong, he knows it, and thus, it isn't too likely to end up healthy. That's where the yandere part could come in.

So imagine that Mont d'Or doesn't realize at first, upon meeting Robin, that she is someone he's supposed to hate. He would definitely get along with her, have a good time talking together, and begin to warm up, get kind of attached, as much as he wouldn't want to admit it. If the attachment somehow goes far enough and only then he learns of her Strawhat affiliations, it won't be simple for him to get over it anymore. If he was at least allowed to stay friends with her, it'd be a different story, but completely detaching himself? He would struggle.

Now, there are plenty siblings in this family who are, to put it mildly, a bad influence. People like Perospero, Flampe, Amande, or even Smoothie, all wouldn't have a healthy idea of relationships and all would put their sibling's needs far above ethics. Say they hear of Mont d'Or's little crush on an enemy, what would be their solution? Well, plain and simple, they would probably advise their brother (or even help him execute) a plan of separating his love interest from the enemy group for good, so that he can be with Robin while they hunt down the rest of the Strawhats.

Again, Mont d'Or doesn't always listen to others' advice all that much, unless it's actually rational and valuable, but in a situation like this he could be a tiny bit desperate. Effectively, you would have Robin chased down by the Big Mom Pirates to be captured, isolated from her crew, and given to Mont d'Or. If it succeeded, he probably wouldn't behave too much like a stereotypical yandere still, unless he would find out she was still set on escaping, which could make him act out just to keep her around.

So to sum up, only a very specific set of circumstances could, in our opinion, lead to Mont d'Or behaving like a yandere! But here they are-

Thank you for the ask ☺️

[kittybellestark]

It’s Like Falling From The Sky

Hi I’m exhausting and things suck rn so i wrote this 

I know this is coming out but I really can’t promise that I’ll be able to be very active on here with everything going on with my Dad. 

If you have mad e a fic request I am working on it have no fears I have not forgotten I just needed to write out my emotions so I’m sorry.

I’ll get this on AO3 in the next few days

TW: Flashbacks, Minor Character Deaths, Re-Visiting Peter’s Traumas, Depression, Probably Disassociation.

-

Peter remembers. He hated remembering this. He couldn’t even talk to other people about this. Well, he probably could, but he wasn’t supposed to. 

Dr. Josh said so. 

He didn’t like Dr. Josh very much. He was there when it happened. Dr. Josh went through the same thing Peter did. Sometimes Dr. Josh still came to visit Peter up until the time Skip happened. Dr. Josh was there for Peter’s first trauma yet he wasn’t there for the next one. And Peter hated him.

Peter remembered the plane. 

Officially Peter was never in that plane. There was no records of Peter ever being there, or Dr. Josh being there. But Peter remembered it in perfect clarity. It was one of the only memories Peter had of his parents. 

It was fine. The plane ride. It was boring and he played Uno with his parents. Dr. Josh stayed seated in a corner, close to the front. It was a nice plane, a private one Oscorp had provided them. This plane was newer. Peter hadn’t ever seen it before, this wasn’t the plane his family normally took. He had liked the other plane more, that plane was familiar. 

He was the one who noticed the smoke. It was coming out of the engine. They had thought the shaking was turbulence, just a little bit of wind. The smoke clouded the sky around them. 

Peter remembers that his parents buckled him into a seat, before getting into their own. Dr. Josh went to go into the cockpit, but the door was jammed. He couldn’t get in. The locking mechanism had ceased, there was no way for Dr. Josh to get in there and Peter saw the moment he realized this. The doctor sat down and buckled in.

The lights flickering was the scariest part to Peter. That was when everyone knew things would get worse. Peter could feel it, he was able to feel his parents fear. Their fear was suffocating. It was the way his mother sobbed and his father dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. There was no battle to be fought, they weren’t going to be able to get out of this one.

Oxygen masks dropped and Peter’s mom made sure to get one onto his face. She kissed his forehead and whispered goodbyes. He cried hard, holding onto her hand with both of his. The door had ripped off the side of the air craft and that made things cold. Cold, cold, cold. And that didn’t make sense to Peter. Outside was bright orange, the colour of warmth and his parents bedding. 

Nothing made sense. It was bad and scary and Peter hates remembering this. He hates it. Peter hates that he was there and that officially he never was. There’s been no one to talk to, no one who can understand. It was in the news, that the only two passengers onboard had died and it infuriates Peter. There was four passengers on that plane and two died. 

Peter remembers the plane going down. He remembers screaming, then he remembers waking up. There was metal scraps of plane all around him and fire, there was so much fire. He was still in his chair, strapped down to it and he couldn’t get out. He remembers calling out for his parents and then looking around for them. 

Peter remembers seeing his mother laying there on the ground. She was awake but gasping for air, her one hand on chest, a leg bent at an unnatural angle, hair melted onto her. Peter was afraid of his own mother. He couldn’t find his father, couldn’t see him, but Peter could hear his screams. Peter could hear him in pain and that scared him too. He feared the people who were meant to be safe. Peter hates himself for that too.

Peter hates Dr. Josh. He hates Dr. Josh for surviving and Peter hates that Dr. Josh for saving him and not going back for his parents. And Peter hates Dr. Josh for leaving him, for not showing up anymore. 

Peter hates Dr. Josh. He never expected to see him again. But the thing about being Peter Parker is that everything goes in the exact way that Peter just can’t predict. 

Becoming Spider-Man was never anything Peter thought he would ever do. Meeting Tony Stark was a pipe-dream, and this mentor-mentee thing was so wildly out there. Nothing ever seemed to make sense and Peter hated that too. It was always a whirlwind and never any time to process any of it. Never any time to make sense of anything.

Peter couldn’t help blaming Dr. Josh for that too. 

“You good kid?” Tony finally, finally asked. 

Distractions are good, welcomed even. Anything was better than his thoughts or the memories of his parents dying. Distractions are easy and they help. Things aren’t so painful if he’s distracted. It’s why parents teach their kids to laugh when they get hurt, it distracts them and then everything is okay.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry- I just got caught up in my head.” 

Peter couldn’t help running his hand through his hair. It was a nervous tick, at least that’s what Dr. Josh had said. Built on his anxiety after his parents death. Peter didn’t believe that to be factual. It was a way to comfort himself, his parents used to run their fingers through Peter’s hair when he was sad or sick or tired. 

He could tell that Tony didn’t believe him. Why would he? Peter hasn’t been focused recently. He needs to focus, but he just can’t seem to focus on anything other than the thought of Dr. Josh recently. It’s a problem and Peter knows it. But it’s just so easy to put the bad things on him. 

Had Dr. Josh at least saved one of his parents, Peter wouldn’t have gone into foster care. He wouldn’t have been placed into May and Ben’s home, Skip would have never been his babysitter. Peter wouldn’t have had to go onto the Oscorp field trip, and Ben would have never been murdered. If just one of his parents had lived Peter wouldn’t feel the grief or hatred he does now. More of his family would be around, he wouldn’t be made fun of for being the reason his guardians all keep dying. May would be happier, she’d have her husband and a in-law. There would never be any over-due bills. So Peter hated Dr. Josh, and it wasn’t fair to do that to him, but Dr. Josh was supposed to be a doctor. He was supposed to save lives.

“Earth to Peter.” Tony waved his hand in front of Peter’s face. “You zoned out on me while I was talking. We have a meeting to go to remember, you’re supposed to pretend to be doing intern-y things. With the Avengers?” 

Peter shook his head, trying to clear it. It was too busy most of the time. Every thought just started and ended on top of each other. But he was going into a meeting, and the Avengers were supposed to be there, so his brain needed to be clear. He couldn’t think about what is felt like to fall out of the sky and not being able to catch himself.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m here. Which Avengers?” 

Smile. Breathe. Listen. Try and be normal. Do not dwell. Not on the past. 

“I mean Cap is going to be there, he’s a total bore by the way. He drones on and on, I think we’ve all learnt to fall asleep to him talking without him noticing, you’re allowed to zone out on him. Natasha is going to be there, she’s sneaky about things so don’t fan boy too hard around her. Clint will also be there, he’ll keep things interesting. You get bored in there Clint is always doing something strange to get everyone’s attention, you two will get along like a house on fire, I’m only a little scared. And Bruce will be there, you’ve met him multiple times already though Pete, so we aren’t going to hyperventilate this time. You’re going to remember to breathe and not overwhelm Bruce with every question you have about one of his research papers.” 

Tony liked to talk with his hands. Grand gestures. It was calming to watch. Peter liked how expressive Tony was. The man said he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions but Tony showed his emotions in his movements. He was easy to read if you knew what to look for, and Peter did. Peter liked knowing. He didn’t get to know much in his life, he could never predict what was happening next and that hurt. But he could see how Tony was feeling and he could act accordingly and he liked to be able to control that.

“I’ve seen the PSA’s at school I think I’ll live. Black Widow is very intimidating so I don’t think you’ll hear me talk more than five words, she’s awesome but she could kill me in the time it takes me to blink. I cannot annoy her Mr. Stark, I’m comfortable being alive.” Tony laughed, Peter joined. “I mean really, I’ve met Dr. Banner and Black Widow has become involved with the government and on tv all the time. An no self respecting teenager doesn’t hate Captain America for those PSA’s at least a little bit. I know them all except Hawkeye really, but he’s the only Avenger that is still supposed to be a secret agent so it’s not like any pictures of him exists. Which is very annoying Mr. Stark. Ned and I hacked into your servers once to see if we could find any pictures of him- this was before I met you by the way- and you didn’t even have anything there.”

Yeah, that sounded like Peter Parker. Laughing, joking, he sounded normal. He was not spiraling. There was no imagining the lights flickering or smoke filled sky. Peter couldn’t talk about it so he shouldn’t think about it. There was no use in his brain remembering the sound of his father’s screams. He could remember so many better things, more useful things. It was over ten years ago. He had more recent trauma, plane trauma at that. This really shouldn’t be the one bad thing his brain goes to first.

Right. He’s supposed to acknowledge and follow and be normal. Peter has this. There’s no plane falling out of the sky today. He is okay. 

“I wish I was surprised about you and Ted hacking into SI servers and then getting into my own, but frankly nothing you do could really ever surprise me at this point. You’re too smart for your own good, I do expect you to take over the world Roo, but for my heart could you wait until you’re done high school.”

It was the right time to laugh. Tony was laughing, so Peter laughed. It didn’t make sense to Peter how his actions couldn’t surprise Tony. Sometimes Peter’s actions even surprise himself. But it’s not really like Peter knew himself very much anymore, not with his life continuing to be so unpredictable. Sure he had gotten used to the fake smiles, and pretending to be fine, deflecting, but that wasn’t really his actions. It just covered them up. 

Peter followed just a little bit behind Tony, it helped ease the anxiety, like a shield. He also knew it wasn’t good to use Tony like this. It was just easier sometimes, when he was scared. This wasn’t a good pattern, but neither was the rest of his life. The world owed him just this bit of comfort sometimes.

“If I’m going to take over the world then I have to take everyone by surprise Mr. Stark. Including you; unless you help me of course. I could use you for your government connections, sway them over into our favour. It really wouldn’t take much.” 

Peter shrugged as Tony stepped into the room, shaking his head while looking back at him. The room was loud as Peter stepped in, but it’s what he had expected. Stories have been told to him about the Avengers, loud and rambunctious, conversations on top of each other. Even with Thor off world the group made up for it in this small room.

“Everyone this is my personal intern. Yes I trust him, no he is not a secret love child, no you can’t interrogate. Yes he will be sitting in this meeting, no you don’t have anything to worry about. Okay? Great, Brucie you know Peter, everyone else this is Peter Parker, Peter this is everyone.” 

It’s like falling from the sky, when he see’s the Avengers. He smells the smoke and feels everything quake. He can hear his father screaming and his mother gasping for air. Everything is warm orange but he’s cold and it doesn’t make sense. He is falling from the sky and it’s way too fast and he cant keep his hold on his mothers hand. He is falling and he can’t catch himself and the world is coming at him way too fast. 

He needs to breathe.

It hurts. 

He’s trapped in the seat and everything is on fire and his family is dying.

And there is Dr. Josh pulling him out and taking him away.

Breathe. He has to breathe.

Peter is not there.

Not in the middle of no where.

Certainly not with his parents.

But he is here. In the Avengers Tower. With Dr. Josh.

He just needs to focus. He needs to breathe. His brain is running too fast and there’s too many thoughts. Peter hates him, hates Dr. Josh. The plane crashed, his parents were alive and he was carried away from them. They died by this man who was supposed to be a doctor. Peter couldn’t help but feeling the anger, over a decade of anger boiling inside of him.

Peter was never good at not saying what he thought. Words were just out of his mouth before he even thought them. It’s always been good to stop people from questioning him too much, but now it was nothing but a weakness. There was no control over this, over his words and Peter hated that he couldn’t control them. He just needed to control something and yet he couldn’t even control his stupid words.

“You killed them.” 

It didn’t even sound like his own voice. He wasn’t supposed to talk about this. He was told not too. Officially Peter was never there. And he was never meant to talk about this. He should have forgotten this.

Captain America, Steve Rogers was the first one to move, pushing himself backwards in his chair before standing up. Peter didn’t like the stance Steve took, he recognized it from school and from muggers too. It was made to intimidate. It worked. Peter found himself pushing against Tony. He didn’t know if that was to shield himself or to shield Tony. It felt selfish though. 

“Kid?” Tony whispered. 

He was clearly hesitant, scared of Peter, for Peter? Honestly, Peter wasn’t so sure. All Peter knew was that he was angry, and the man who ruined his whole life was just sitting there, like this was no big deal like it was nothing. He sat there, just barely a fake look of concern like he didn’t even recognize Peter.

“You don’t even remember me. You’re the reason my parents died, you introduced yourself as a doctor and clearly you fucking lied. They were dying in front of us. Remember that? Instead of helping them you got me out of the seat I was in and walked away. We were the only two who survived, but funny enough neither of us were put on the reports. Officially we never went on that plane. Unofficially you dropped me off in Connecticut to go into foster care, but officially I ran away from my babysitter and managed to sneak onto a train. You remember me now?” The words felt like acid, and Peter didn’t like the way the words felt in his mouth. But he was falling. “Oh, no? See, you introduced yourself to me as Doctor Josh Wilkes.”

Peter didn’t notice how he made his way further into the room. He wasn’t very aware of his body or the words that were spilling out. There was just so much pain, so much that he never talked about to anyone because they were never supposed to know. His world fell apart in front of him when he was too young to understand and Peter never got to tell anyone.

“Peter, I think you’re having a severe panic attack. Can you breathe with me?” That was Dr. Banner. 

Dr. Banner was in front of Peter’s face, enough to block his view. Tony’s arms were wrapped around Peter’s waist just enough pressure to help remind Peter where he was. It wasn’t enough for Peter’s thoughts to stay in his head, but his head had been so loud for so long. Letting it out felt better but also worse. He was finally being heard, but this wasn’t what he wanted to happen. 

Black Widow- Natasha moved around the room, stationing herself in front of her friend, and Steve looked ready to yell. None of this was what Peter wanted. He needed to gain control. He needed to take a breath and start thinking. But here was Dr. Josh, Clint Barton and everything just felt so much more like a lie. Peter felt like he’d been removed from his body and scrambled before being shoved right back in.

“No. No. You told me you were a Doctor, that you saved lives. That was all a lie. Every word you ever said to me was a lie and I hate you, I do. You told me that plane crash was our secret, that I couldn’t tell anyone. You stole my parents lives, and you ruined mine, and now you’re just sitting there, silent. You’re an Avenger, you are supposed to save lives. Why didn’t you save mine?”

There were tears streaming down Peter’s face. He’d been lied too. The man he hates wasn’t even a real person, just some persona that was put on. He hated an Avenger and he never thought he would. Peter hates Clint Barton for what was done to him. And he hates that Clint just sits there not saying anything. Looking at Peter with his eyebrows raised but otherwise looking unaffected.

He had to leave. He needed to leave and go find a place to breathe. It’d been too long and everything hurt too bad. Peter was only 6, barely had any life and yet had it all torn from him.

Peter waiting another moment for Clint to say something.

“You’re a coward.” Peter pulled himself out of Tony’s arms. “I’m leaving. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

He was leaving and Peter knew it was wrong. This was everything he hated but he should be more mature about it. Peter was raised to treat people with respect, never to shout, never call someone names. It didn’t matter who the person was, he should always treat them the way he wishes to be treated.

The past should be behind him and he just needed to stop experiencing it. Peter needed to walk away from his past even if that left his parents behind him. His mom wasn’t gasping for air anymore and his dad wasn’t screaming in pain, but this felt the same as it had then. When he was picked up and carried away fighting to go back. 

The elevator was too small and it felt like falling. There wasn’t enough air as they went down, down, down. They were going towards the ground way too fast and everything was too cold and- he wasn’t there. Peter is in New York and he’s leaving his past behind. It’d be easier to forget it, but that can’t happen. For now he’s in New York and he is not falling, things are controlled now. He isn’t controlling them but things are controlled and that has to be enough.

“Peter, do you want to talk about it?” 

That was Tony. Tony was there walking out of the building with him and he didn’t even notice. Someone was there for him and following him out into the streets and he is upset. This is going to be like Ben all over again. It was all too familiar. Peter is crying and too caught up in his head and he’s being followed by someone who cares again and he is in New York. Last time Peter had a gun held to him because he saw something he shouldn’t and Ben stepped in. Tony would do the same thing as Ben, Peter knows that. 

Planes don’t fall out of the sky often but it happened to Peter twice. Muggings happen often, Peter has seen his fair share. It could happen to him again. History repeats itself, everyone says that. This can happen again too, it could. All because of Dr. J- Clint. 

“You can’t let him kill you Mr. Stark. I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t watch anyone else die. You and May are all I have left.”

Breathe. He just needs to breathe and it’ll be okay. Peter knows this he just needs to get himself under control. One person should not have any control over him, his life, not like this.

“Alright kiddo. I’m staying right here, and you know May isn’t going anywhere either. We’ll stay by your side no matter what. So lets talk, tell me what isn’t official or don’t. Whatever you need right now.”

Peter nodded. He hated how the air was acid but he had to do this. He’s held it all in, every bad thing. He didn’t talk about things, never the bad things, those were made to be secrets. But it never felt good, it always ached, to keep it all inside. Peter never told May and Ben about his parents, all they knew was the official story. He had never told them about Skip, never talked about it more than what was necessary after May walked in. Never said anything about what happened to give him his powers. He didn’t tell May about watching Ben die. He never said anything to Tony or Happy about a building falling on him or crashing the plane on Coney Island. These memories, these trauma’s are not made to be shared, but he couldn’t hold in in anymore. 

His body wasn’t his own and Peter hated not being aware of his actions, pulled too far into the past to understand his movements, his surroundings. When Tony pulled Peter back inside and to the penthouse he hardly recognized his own motions. Sitting onto Tony’s couch helped Peter come back to himself, just the tiniest bit. 

For the first time ever Peter told someone the unofficial story. There was no talking about nothing. He tells Tony about what it was like to notice the smoke and the flames. He talks about being exposed in the sky and holding his mothers hand as they fall. He speaks about seeing his mom, hearing her and his dad. He explains what is was like to be carried away, fighting to be with them, knowing they’d die. Peter tells Tony about what it’s like in foster care, about being considered a flight risk because officially he ran away from his babysitter. 

Peter tells Tony everything.

And Tony listens. 

Peter thought he’d feel better. He never expected to feel like every problem is solved, but he thought he’d at least feel the tiniest bit better. This wasn’t better though.

Maybe it was a mistake.

These big, scary traumatic things were supposed to be kept to himself. They might have changed his life but they didn’t need to affect anyone else’s.

“This is the first time you’re telling anyone any of this?” Tony hand’s Peter hot chocolate as he asks this question, it feels like a stupid question to Peter, he wasn’t supposed to talk about it so why would he tell anyone. 

“I was told I couldn’t tell anyone about my parents. Dr. Josh, Clint, he sat me down and told me no one could actually know how my parents died, that it was our secret. He’d check in on me for a few years after to make sure May and Ben didn’t know. Clint told me that the big scary thing things that happen to a person aren’t made to be shared with others and that no one would believe me, so I didn’t tell anyone. I’m supposed to do what adults tell me, it’s not a big deal.”

Tony hummed, sipping his own drink. Peter didn’t like the way Tony looked at him, like a mystery that revealed itself. It was close to the look Peter gets when people find out his parents are dead and one of his guardians died too, but it wasn’t quiet it. Tony also held some level of anger in his eyes and Peter didn’t know who that was directed at.

“Peter you literally exploded when you saw Clint, that was a pretty big deal. Him telling you not to share the first big traumatic thing to happen to you is a pretty big deal too, especially because he told you that he was a doctor. It’s all big deal.”

Peter groaned. He should have had better control. It was already a bad day and his head was too clouded with the past. It was a mistake. A blip. Peter should have done better.

“FRIDAY, could you ask Clint Barton to come up here?” 

FRIDAY confirmed and Peter realized that this was another mistake. Why couldn’t he just stop himself? He wasn’t good at this. This was a mistake. Peter was raised to do what was right but he only made mistake after mistake. Everything he’s done was a mistake.

“What are you doing kid?”

Planes fall from the sky. Planes that hold Peter have fallen. They are world ending and Peter’s world has ended over and over. He blamed the person that Clint was pretending to be. Peter blamed a lie.

“He forgot me and then I told him he killed my parents and didn’t save my life.”

The elevator dinged out a final warning to what was coming before the doors opened. This time Peter was prepared to see the face of a man who haunted his life. Clint walked in and stayed standing away from Peter and Tony on the other side the coffee table. 

“Sorry for yelling at you. It was a bad day. I was taken off guard and said things without any thought.” 

Unrecognizable. Cold. Unattached. Empty. Peter’s voice didn’t sound nice, there was no personality. But it had been a long day. There was too many emotions all at once and Peter was tired, it was nearly too much today. All his thoughts and feelings were all too wrapped together, snaked around his heart and lungs. In his throat and into his jaw, squeezing too tight; a mess of what should be neat and organized.

“My mission was to protect you. I was assigned onto that plane and to your parents to make sure you were properly protected. Your parents were agents in the scientific division of SHIELD and were assigned to Oscorp to get intel. We had reason to believe that Oscorp was going to stage a kidnapping to experiment on you. My only job was to keep you safe and when that plane went down I had to get you out of the area before you were taken. SHIELD agents were with your parents by the time we got to safety. We didn’t tell you that you’re Dad’s spine was crushed or your Mom’s lungs were filled with blood, there was no saving them. Even if I helped them first they would not have survived, if I was a doctor it wouldn’t have made a difference. My mission was to protect you. I had to drop in after that every once in a while after that because Oscorp still had their eyes on you. I got reassigned when they stopped following you.”

Peter’s mind reeled. Hardly able to process the words being told. None of it made sense. It didn’t feel much like the truth. Peter still ended up at Oscorp and bad things still happened. 

“Well you failed then. You’re mission was a failure.” Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “Oscorp doesn’t give school’s tours, especially not high schools. But they gave my school a tour, but only my class. You did not succeed at your one job. I was there, got separated from my class. After that some Oscorp employees tended to show up where I was for a few months, offered me summer camp opportunities a few internships. I never took them especially not once I got this internship. But they never stopped. Oh, and I was friends with Harry Osborn, for years actually, went over to his house all the time until pretty recently.”

The spider bite. Peter always thought it was an accident. A coincidence. But now it was making sense. The lab assistant who gave him the wrong directions to the bathroom did that on purpose. He ended up in a room filled with spiders instead of a hallway he expected to lead to the washroom. Oscorp followed him to see if Peter had changed, not because they thought he did something bad or stole from them. It was their plan. Had he of taken the internship who knows what else would have happened. 

The mugging that killed Ben, that was probably Oscorp too. It would make sense. Especially if they were watching Peter. The gun was pointed at Peter first, meant to shoot him. Maybe they expected Peter to do something, confirm any theory they may have had about him. Instead Ben got in the way and died. And Peter didn’t do anything that day, or that week, not even that month. Oscorp stopped reaching out as much after that. They weren’t at his favourite places anymore and he got less mail from them. Every once in a while they still offered an internship to him, but it wasn’t a consistent thing like before. There wasn’t anything consistent.

“Clint, I think it’s time for you to leave.” That was Tony. Tony was nice. Tony helps. “Peter, buddy, you need to remember to breathe. C’mon Roo, I know that was a lot but breathe for me, please.”

He couldn’t do it. Everything about Peter was a lie. The man he blamed was a lie. The idea his parents could be alive was a lie. The reason Ben died was a lie. Everyone lied to him, his entire life, every traumatic experience came from a lie. Being Spider-Man came from a lie and working with Tony rooted from one too. There was no truth. He was never given the truth. 

Peter couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to. Nothing was true. How could he do anything real, or true? His life was a pile of lies stacked on top of each other in a way to control him and to manipulate. There’s no control here, this was a fall and every time there was something to grab onto it just disappeared. Nothing was real, it wasn’t real. Someone else pulled the strings on his life and now they’ve all been cut and there’s nothing holding him up anymore. 

Alone. He’s alone and he can’t do this. Just a kid who lost everyone on a lie. Peter never had a chance to control anything,  Everything was set up for him to react in certain ways, he had no choice, probably never did.

“Peter, buddy, c’mon, breathe for me. Don’t do this, you’re going to hurt yourself. I know this was a lot, but Roo, you’ll get through this, I know this was a lot, your whole life thrown at you in one go. I’m here with you.”

Focus on Tony. He needed to breathe, gain control here. But this was wrong, all of it was wrong. Peter had been through a lot but this was something else entirely. How can any expect him to get through this? 

“No. No, Mr. Stark. I can’t- I can’t do this. I’m not- it’s not- it’s a lie. I can’t do this.”

He was sobbing, face tomato red. Tears were streaming down his face, his body shook just like the plane that went down. He couldn’t calm down and he hated himself for it. Peter couldn’t control the way his thoughts always went to his biggest traumas, and now he couldn’t control the way he was reacted. Maybe none of this ever happened, and that’s just a lie too. There’s no proof that he isn’t dead or in a coma or even lost his mind. It’s all been a lie this far, it could be a lie past that.

Arms wrapped around Peter. They held him tight and he fought them at first trying to break free. He needed to be free of them, free of his thoughts. He only struggled for a few minutes before finally being able to relax, entire body going limp.

Everything was too much. It was too much.

And Peter was falling from the sky. Falling too fast and too hard into the rest of his life. There was no way to catch himself, not at these speeds. He was just a six year old with too much heartache. No Spider-Man there to catch him, no webs strong enough. Peter was falling from the sky and he couldn’t stop.

But Tony is there, and Tony will be there to catch Peter before he crashes.

-

Taglist (DM/Send an ask if you would like to be added):

@erinbeanie @jean-and-diet-coke @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee @parkersjiggle @7peternotparker7 @thatonecrackheadshipper @kevinthewoman @faline4you @lynxshinon @narutoyaoifan @pastelwheeler

[risingsouls]

[For the past two hours I’ve been trying to figure out what I’ve been forgetting and I finally just remembered. :’3

PSA TIME!

Once again, it’s not really a big thing and not particularly because of what anyone did. Just a few points I want to reiterate as well as some pro tips. It’s probably not needed, but my own insecurity mixed with my dumb, undying love for Nabooru and wanting to do things with her with other muses outside of writing my own bs is probably fueling this so. Here we go!

First thing is just a few small reminders:

This blog is multiship (I’m sure you all knew but it wasn’t in the description I realized while revamping, and while I HOPE you’ve at least skimmed my rules, I’m not going to have a cow over it). You wanna try out a ship with one of these assholes? Let me know. Hit me up. I DO prefer to roleplay them out and go for chemistry than just hopping straight into a romantic relationship (or sexual, but that’s another beast and still requires some plotting with me and permission to boot), but all of them are fair game. That goes for even for Nabooru and Vegeta, despite their relationship within the canon of this blog. 

Same thing for just plots. I’m a slut for AUs if you haven’t guessed, considering half of my current roster are supposed to be dead or I’ve toyed with their canon altogether. I am all about exploring what ifs and breaking the shit out of canon. Best advice is to just hit me up with stuff. I try not to bite too hard. You like a thing I’m doing and want in on that action? Let’s go. You want to run an idea by me that includes a muse of mine? PLEASE. I enjoy writing, and doing so with a partner is so damn fun and fulfilling when we get a plot going.

That said, and this is where things get a little...sticky? I’m going to try and word this as well as possible. No one is obligated to adhere to the plot I’m writing here with my AUs that are slaughtering canon to some degree. I understand that it’s not for everyone. Some people are more into staying as close to canon as possibly than I am and that’s perfectly fine. However, by default, I WILL answer asks, replies, etc. based on what I’M doing unless requested otherwise. Thus, if you want something based strictly in canon or for something where I work my characters into what you’ve got going on, let me know! Communication is key with me, and as stubborn as I seem, I can be flexible. While I do want my own AUs and plots respected as well (I’ve worked hard on them :w;), I am more than happy to offer my characters up for other shenanigans outside of that. Which is why this blog is multiverse as well!

Now for part two. This one is concerning Nabooru.

Because I love her to bits (I’ve been playing and developing her for 10+ years now from the very small role and screen time she gets in Ocarina of Time to a fully fleshed out and, I hope, interesting character, whether that’s in her LoZ verses or, the more used DB ones these days), I want people to feel comfortable roleplaying with her. She will likely always be a main muse, meaning that if I send you things or, more likely, a muse is not indicated for the interaction, there is a good chance you could get her. So, here’s my pro tip that will hopefully help (there’s probably not even a problem and I’m just paranoid but uuuh bear with me okay?)?

Even though I would love to roleplay her in Zelda verses, right now on this DB centric blog, Nabooru is basically a Dragonball OC at this point (but not because I don’t own her; don’t sue me Nintendo, even though I’ve done more work for her than you did). Her DB verses are essentially the main ones now and what I usually default to unless requested otherwise. Knowledge of Legend of Zelda really isn’t needed as, in pretty much every DB verse, that part of her life is in the past and only relevant if it comes up. Thus, approach rping with her like you would any other DB alien OC. Once again, communication is more than welcome. I could literally talk about Nabs for hours, so if you have questions about her in general or the backstory I have going for her as a DB character, I am more than willing to entertain them.]

[juuls]

Pharmacist/Me = 1 🏆 Doctor/Nursing Staff = 0

Thank you in advance for reading this rant. I’ve been really frustrated and just needed to get this off my chest, and today at least I had a wonderful knight in a white lab coat. 🩺❤️‍🩹🥽🥼💪🏻

Content warnings and squicky squicks: (further down there is) an image of a medical vial with a clipped image of a more benign part of a syringe, health conditions (endometriosis, fibromyalgia), menstrual cycles and associated terms such as bleeding and other things, lack of empathy in my specific healthcare system, hysterectomies, pain, swearing and losing patience. Most important warning: self-administered syringes and injection discussions of legal medications (Depo-Provera) approved of by professionals and properly researched. P.S. this may sound rather Karen-like but I would never do this to someone’s face. Online ranting and acknowledging where I could do better is not the same as screaming in public for bossy requests or comps, etc. Ew.

Another ‘warning’… pharmacists being kick-ass allies and giving a damn about their patients.

I’m really annoyed because (and I know healthcare and scheduling is a clusterfuck right now, but…) for over a month now I’ve been trying to get an appointment in person to get this injectable medication that is, yes, birth control, but is also used for endometriosis in my case. And I have severe endometriosis (exacerbated severely by fibromyalgia, siiiiigh) to the point I bleed enough and lose so much I have to go to the hospital when my care is not properly preventative… like in this case, and the pain is unbelievably severe also to the point I’ve spent time in the hospital, including my 11th Christmas Eve and Day. I started this injectable medication at 13 because it was the only thing that came close to helping reduce my endometrial tissue. Even a hysterectomy wouldn’t help as much, unless they decided to go the super invasive route and remove all the organs (or parts of them) that had become ‘infected’ by the tissue. Again, tissue where it’s not supposed to be, and it causes extreme pain as the tissue tries to flush out of my body each period, even if it’s attached to, like, my pancreas. Just no. That does not work at all. No. That is not fun.

SO. I’m 31, nearing 32, and the doctor’s office knows this. I’ve had the same doctor since I was 10. Been on this medication nearly non-stop for just shy of two decades (with appropriate precautions such as bone density tests) because of the absolute severity of the pain and my inability to function when it hits… which can be months at a time of non-stop bleeding and morning sickness-level nausea and vomiting, migraines and the occasional complete inability to move—in other words, it’s debilitating.

My doctor (even the nurses, as it’s in large print at the top of my file in the system) knows all about this. They’re supposed to call me if I’m overdue by a certain margin (I get they’re busy but months and months???). But my doc’s also a bit of an airhead (albeit a smart one when he focuses) and takes forever to reply to anything on time, even when it’s a severe issue, but not severe enough to go to the hospital. But it’s gotten to the point where the nurses say to go to the ER and then the ER nurses and doctors there get SUPER pissed off (AT ME AND SOMEHOW NOT AT MY DOCTOR/NURSES AND THEIR ORDERS) at the ‘waste of time’, and it’s just a clusterfuck.

Oh yeah, and that ER visit while I was overdue for my injection? Internal intestinal bleeding along with a lovely, even if small, perforation in my fucking uterus from the growth of endometrial tissue. I MEAN COME ON — WHAT IN THE HELL. Totally preventable if they fit me in when I called literally over a month ago.

But I will not change my doctor (the other docs at the practice know what is going on and have offered to take me on, but they don’t have the experience with myself and my conditions or the history, but they can do little else because of professional conduct—it’s between myself and my doc) because he is the only one who treats me with humanity and understands fibromyalgia, endometriosis, pre-MS and pre-RhA/PsA, endo-related IBS, (ulcerative) colitis, and other neurological conditions with any degree of empathy. (See, I told you I’m a mess!) There is no way I’m switching offices in the perpetual shortage of doctors in Canada moving elsewhere for m o n e y (plus Covid-19 being a teen hooligan and constantly coming back to wreck more goddamn shit, including everyone’s sanity, then setting things on fire like the real hooligans in my village have been doing this summer — I mean… what in the hell!?!?), so with all that in mind I actually thank my lucky stars. So I put up with a lot of this shit because he treats me, besides him being an airhead, like an actual human being deserving of compassion and care and quality of life despite my severe disabilities and pain. So.

I’m usually treated really well (even if they often think I’m a nuisance for daring to be severely chronically ill/in pain all the time) so I try to be patient and good and understanding when I can.

But his STAFF (I know they’re busy and I’ve been patient but they’ve been so awful honestly to the point I cried hard enough my dad noticed my red eyes and frustration-tear fracks on my face)! And the doc himself’s inability to reply to notes on time even when urgent and when he knows the circumstances (I admit I am a bit of a hard patient so I can understand if he just kinda ignores me sometimes, honestly). But in this case I was THREE DAMN MONTHS LATE for my injection and they’ve always called in the past when I was coming due if it looked like I hadn’t scheduled an injection, so that I was all on time and squared away and didn’t risk severe pain and damage to my already-fucked hormonal system (learning I couldn’t have kids was absolutely heartbreaking, let me tell you, but even a hysterectomy in that case would solve nothing — this is by far the easiest option, especially considering how my fibromyalgia would fuck with my post-surgery recovery and leave me with lasting pain for years if not decades; sigh).

Anyway. So. After some ridiculous levels of back and forth and some truly remarkable levels of lack of compassion (she kept giving me the exact same, word for word response in a bored tone UGH) considering the severe pain I was in (I was told, in front of OTHER PATIENTS AND STAFF, that I could just wait until I talk to the doctor myself at my next phone appointment and then schedule my injection for my next MONTHLY followup — 4.5 months overdue at that point, it would’ve been — because, and I quote, ‘am used to dealing with pain because of my fibromyalgia and years of dealing with it and other conditions’ which they named in front of others!!!!!!!! what. the. fuck. But I kept my cool because I know all these people, my mom taught their kids music, they’re a fixture of the community, etc. and I refuse to be a Karen…. At least externally.

But here comes the nice part that makes me love our new (okay, he’s been here like 5 years but still, in a small town that’s pretty new lmao) pharmacist that much more. Rasik was aware of my frustration with the doctor and nurses and was even the one who brought to my attention that, at the time, I was 2 months late for my injection and he was a bit concerned since he’s privy to how much pain I exist in without throwing in one or more knives directly into my womb, ovaries, tummy, hips, and other areas my endometrial tissue has taken root. He’s such a sweetheart and he really does care for his patients— the work he does with my father’s diabetes (the tricky one where you’re not obese) management is above and beyond the call of a pharmacist and I will forever be grateful for that alone, never mind how he cares for me.

So I went in today to pick up another medication, after yet another frustrating stop-over at the nurses’ desks, and he suggested I ask for my injectable medication (it’s Depo-Provera, by the way) and the syringe plus the two tips necessary — I’m actually familiar with this since I had to learn epinephrine injections from an early age (not Epipen) and how to give testosterone daily to my ex-husband (sorry not sorry, dude, but congrats on your first kid *grouchy thumbs up*). But yeah! Legally he’s not allowed to suggest I give it to myself, but he was getting super fed up with the nurses and doctors dragging their feet and ‘being assholes with little empathy’ in his own words, so I took the hint and requested my vial plus syringe, as well as the drawing and injection gauge needles…. which he gleefully filled for me, and I reiterated that it was ‘fully my idea, not yours, Rasik, because everyone knows I’m dumb and would never think it’s you if something happened’ (I’m not dumb and I’ve given injections to others many times looool).

Long story short: HERE’S TO PHARMACISTS AROUND THE WORLD, BEING AMAZING AND CARING FOR THEIR PATIENTS AND ‘BENDING BUT NOT REALLY BENDING’ THE RULES TO MAKE SURE THEIR CLIENTS ARE CARED FOR PROPERLY. They are amazing and deserve every last bit of your courtesy, especially when they pull double duty every. single. day. because of Covid and their subsequent boosters. (i.e. boosters in the form of humans who are fucking stupid if they have no medical reason not to get the vaccine… I mean JFC.)

Rasik? You are amazing and I am 100% going to find you some Indian-Canadian (or North Indian; I believe that’s where he’s from originally) treats or desserts or make some myself after slyly asking his assistant what he leans toward liking.

Be kind to one another, yeah, but… my goodness: be kind to those who can truly make a difference in your health, sanity, and even life or death.

Pharmacists, volunteers, and frontline health workers: the true heroes of these times.

Thank you so much. So very much.

💜💙🇨🇦👨🏽‍⚕️❤️‍🩹🙏🏻

P.S. … now I just gotta stab myself intramuscularly after making sure there’s no air bubbles and etc., and swap out to the proper gauge needle (different, smaller, to draw from the vial, larger to inject so that it goes in more quickly and, oddly enough, hurts less haha). I don’t think air bubbles are as much of an issue as when injecting intravenously (ummm I have a doctor uncle and grandma nurse and nurse friends, so shush 😆). But I’ve done this for others and animals so I should be good! :)

I’m a smart enough cookie even if I’ve lost a few nibble-size pieces around the edges. 😉😘 buahaha

Cheers to my pharmacist!!!! You are amazing and I can’t wait for the pain and months and months of bleeding to settle down.

Remind me again why humans are the only mammals (animals?) with monthly fluxes? UGH wtf ever. 🙃

[yandere-sins]

Requesting Lemons - PSA

Hey guys! Another PSA from yours truly, request writer for four years, going strong onto my fifth year.

After all these years, I’ve learned a lot - about writing and myself alike. Personally, I like lemon-y stuff. I always held it in high regards since it’s demanding and challenging to find the right words and fun ways to describe it, so to me, it was always a special treat. What I am trying to say, I have my experience, and I am not against lemon as a concept. In my time writing, I found out what I am comfortable with and what not, found some pet peeves and things that make me tired of being a request writer. About such a thing, I want to talk today. 

It’s the requesting of explicit content. [Please note, due to Tumblr regulation, I’ll refer to it as ‘Lemon’]

After changing fandoms for the first time, it got clear really fast that my supportive first fandom was barely grazing the horniness and - bluntly said - lack of originality in many requests. I am not pointing fingers now, there are always requests that simply inspire you, no matter if they have a big story or idea behind them. It happens, it’s a spurt of imagination. So even the worst request sometimes can suddenly become the best, even if it is considered dull in comparison to others.

But what’s not okay is insisting on lemon elements in a request.

See, I don’t think that [Character] needs to fuck their significant other after, e.g., a breakdown/having dropped an apple at the market/lost someone significant to them/got hurt/and so many more.

You will think I am crazy right now, but no, those are all requests I have gotten in the past. Multiple times.

As a request writer, I feel like my requester thinks that writing lemon equals comfort. Which yes, in some cases, it does. Comfort fucking is a thing, and it’s not bad to write either. But it doesn’t replace a good hug, some advice, and a character really comforting his s/o. Personally, I think all it does is make a perfectly fine, valid request - that could have been fluffy, heartfelt, maybe funny, and comforting - unnecessarily horny.

Again, adding “Lemon please” to a request, does not make it better, is not helpful if the request has otherwise nothing to do with the lemon, and yes, many request writers don’t see a request, only an ask that will block their creativity.

So what do you do? Let me make it clear that requesting explicit content is NOT WRONG. If the writer is okay with it, nothing is stopping you, but remember one thing:

If you want to request a lemon, request a lemon. Don’t make a request and then, in the end, decide that your perfectly fine request should be lemon.

DO: “Can I request a lemon about [Character] and s/o celebrating their anniversary by doing some bed-hopping? Please, and thank you!” -> You went right to the point as to why they are fucking, gave the writer some plot to go off on. The writer now proceeds to write you an explicit story about how good their relationship feels even after a year of being together, how they still love each other so much, how [Character] can still make their s/o’s core tingle, etc.

DON’T: “Can I have a scenario of s/o breaking their leg. They are in pain, so how would [Character] help them, comfort them in this situation? Oh, lemon, please!!” -> This has nothing to do with the lemon. Why would this scenario be turning into a lemon, and how? The writer proceeds to panic, starring daggers into this request while they try to figure out what to do.

I hope this example made it more apparent as to why it sometimes is misplaced to ask for lemon. Not only that, but the request itself was good, the lemon addition is actually absolutely useless. It makes no sense, it has no core points, and simply, now the writer feels obligated to write it without the necessity or any idea how to do it.

I am almost done with this PSA, hoping it got a little bit more understandable why it is so hard to receive requests with the addition of “Lemon, please!”. But before I end it, let me explain what it also causes, aside from being unnecessary and taxing on writers.

There is no such thing as a constant income of requests. Request writers ALWAYS think twice about deleting requests, because they don’t know if they will have enough requests to keep the blog running on some point. They’d rather keep the requests, they don’t feel like they can do, in their ask box or drafts, until eventually, they can bring themselves to write them, or have to delete them with a heavy heart. No request writer WANTS to delete requests, that is not the idea, and we fear not having any because they are what a request blog is for. If we don’t get requests, it’s like a death sentence for the blog. But those requests that make us wonder how to write and what to do, are clogging not only the space they are in, but also our creativity as we want to please the requester by writing them, but just cannot find the inspiration to do it. And in the end of keeping them for months at some times, we delete them after all and are none requester wiser.

By writing a lot of lemon stuff, we are flooding fandoms. Fandoms that most of the time are 16+ and child-friendly. We can tag what we want, the possibility that someone who isn’t supposed to see them will click the ‘read more’ anyway and come into contact with it is not preventable. And we are not flooding them with the good stuff, we feed them with awkwardly written requests that didn’t have a reason to be lemon. We are telling these people that if they, e.g., break a leg, the only way to comfort them is fucking. This wouldn’t be a big thing if there were some posts, some explicit little stories. But because everyone is putting lemon on EVERYTHING, it’s EVERYWHERE. The possibility of seeing something explicit when searching for fluff is higher than finding actual fluff.

There is much more to say, but those are the most critical points that come to mind. There will always be exceptions, and I know not everyone agrees with me. But this is my experience, and more importantly, experiences from other request writers and even readers that came to me saying it isn’t really their thing to see how that interesting topic was turned into mindless fucking. Writing is not a porno, quite the opposite even. So repeat after me,

DON’T REQUEST LEMON IF YOUR REQUEST ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LEMON

Always remember that your request is okay as it is, and if it doesn’t need the fucking, then don’t ask for it. Alternatively, go to a blog specifically for lemon stuff, change up your request, request multiple things until you have everything you want. Support your writer and leave them some nice reviews on it, reblog their content to help spread awareness about their doings.

I am sorry it got so long, but it’s a complicated topic, and I tried to be as understandable as possible. As always, thank you for reading this PSA, please reblog and share, and feel free to add your own thoughts to it below!

[Feel free to read my other PSA, on how to better request, here]

[a-lil-perspective]

I don’t want to be that person—

But I really need to get this off my chest. This is the culmination of two months buildup of thoughts that have been screaming far too loud for me to continue simply taking in stride. I can’t do it. I apologize in advance, for anyone who actually reads this, if this is a deterrent to you about my character or my minuscule space taken up here on Tumblr. Again, I really can no longer remain silent. If it’s any solace:

I tried.

Where to begin. First off—as much as I’d love for this to be an update on the next chapter of Remember Me, it is not. For those of you who’ve kept up with the story, I’m sure you’ve noticed my uploading pattern these past few weeks has been reduced to solely weekends—and barely that, might I add. While I will try to have Chapter 9 up within the next few days, I cannot guarantee when. At this point in time, it’s not a lack of creative streak, it’s a lack of time. I have all these outlines and segments in my head but can’t seem to even catch a breath much less put the story down in my notes or in Word for later edit and upload. But I’m trying. I really am. As I’ve said before: I will finish this story, come hell or high water. But currently being engulfed in the former has been a huge burden.

Per my past psa’s: My health? Two giant thumbs down (nothing to do with COVID-19). Personal aspects? Two giant thumbs down. Both are and have been slowly corroding me. To avoid this post seemingly grabbing for sympathy, I’m going to just stop there with that. But I’m truly suffocating in this corner.

Next point in case: I’m going to be completely candid here. It’s extremely difficult and utterly exhausting to continue posting fics. Mentally and Emotionally. The pressure to post. The pressure to post because if you don’t in a timely manner, you lose your momentum and “fall behind” when you post again. Then you’re right back to square one thereafter because people have grown absent in your absence. It’s exhausting and stressful to spin in that wheel.

It’s difficult when you pour every drop of energy into a work, only for it to sit largely unnoticed on your blog. To stay up literally all night making sure your punctuation is impeccable, re-reading the same fic over and over before you post until your brain explodes and you utterly forsake the fic the minute you hit that post button. To take up space on a post tagging and adding those notes and engaging flares that go unrequited. It’s... well, it’s detrimental. It gets you down. It gets me down. I’m not going to lie about that. We all want validation and I will be the first to shoot my hand up in acknowledgement.

I’m going to stop right there as you’re reading to clarify: This is not a call-out post. This is not a guilt post. This is not me giving an ultimatum. This is not me demanding reblogs. This is not me telling you “your likes don’t matter” (I have literally seen that on posts and it kind of disgusts me. That’s all I’m going to say about that for now).

Reblogs, while unanimously appreciated, are not a priority to me. Comments and feedback and communication are invaluable to me. That’s it. That coveted and intimate interaction between the Writer and the Reader. One is not more important than the other. We’re a team, a unit, a force that balances each other on a broad, diverse scale.

I don’t ask for much—I don’t ask for anything here, actually (unless it’s directed towards the general audience over what y’all would like to see, which largely goes unengaged whenever I bring up). No, I don’t post fics that frequently. No, I don’t crank them out as quick. No, I don’t have that many. Yes, I’m new to fanfic writing. But I work quietly and solely with all my own plots and dialogues and ideas (I love prompts and requests, though). Thus my usually hefty works. Y’all get the whole nine yards. But I don’t feel like I really get to bounce my ideas around to others, which can further exacerbate that sense of isolation for me around here. I put myself through a really long process for every single thing I write because, the quality of my work matters to me. A lot. So I try to take my time to deliver that. And... I guess I just hope you know that or can discern that as you read each time.

Another astronomically exhausting aspect is this platform itself. It’s painfully evident to me, in my four meager months here, that Tumblr is just one big popularity contest. Who can upload the most, the fastest, the most efficiently. Who has the most followers. Who accumulates them the quickest. A place where your “exposure” is literally at the mercy of others. And when people purposely don’t want to aid in that, it spirals into this really toxic mindset causing friction between Writers and other Writers, causing unnecessary strain, avoidance, insecurities, and hinderances to YOUR precious work. And I’m not about that. It’s a no from me.

Also, I’ve just got to interject with this bit: Bad Batch Writers. Bad Batch Writers struggle. In my opinion, from what I’ve seen, it’s like if you aren’t writing for a popular Clone like Wolffe or Fives or Jesse, you don’t get traffic. Which I think is just... kind of corny. Okay. I think it’s really corny and ridiculous. Please know that I’m not saying anything bad about those Clone babies, the people who write them, or anything like that. Please don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m just making a point. Bad Batch does NOT get enough love. And the Writers ultimately suffer because of it. That’s all there.

We’re all supposed to be in this together. Your work—your writing—is neither good nor bad. There’s no such thing. There’s only YOUR writing; your unique, beautiful words that I LOVE more than anything, that only YOU speak. We all speak a different dialect and flow through our storytelling. And it’s a beautiful, wholesome thing. It always has been. It should never be this detrimental stage Tumblr has made for content creators. Let’s be honest: Tumblr is not the ideal place to thrive. And I’m just... sick of it.

I’m beyond an exhausted state. I can’t remember that last time I wasn’t. (I know everyone is, with the ebb and flow of our world’s daily uncertainties during these unprecedented times). But for me, personally, it’s getting increasingly harder to keep up with the reblogs and comments and blogs of all the stories I love, while updating my work and trying to interact on my blog, while battling my health and nonexistent energy, and constantly be exposed to the “Tumblr Tumbles”, as I call it—the overbearing popularity and the waiting and the wondering and the silent seething because of it. It’s just too much. And it doesn’t take a detective to pick up on that attitudinal shift around here. It’s all just one big, pernicious cycle. And seeing that here nearly every day, exhausts me. I don’t know how else to convey as much. But I just can’t do it. And honestly, I get this overwhelming loneliness just being here.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m going to continue doing my thing until my engine sputters out. I’m going to keep up with storytelling, because I love it more than anything. I just needed to get this off my chest. I’m just rambling. I might delete this but, I might not. Who knows.

I just... Geez. I need to know that I’m not just shouting into the void over here like always.

Communication to me is key. If you don’t want me to tag you anymore: tell me. If you don’t want me to message you: tell me. Please. Just don’t like me? Cool. Tell me. It’s better to know and communicate than to walk on eggshells around everyone and everything. I’ve applied that flawed strategy throughout my whole life and I strongly dislike doing so. It adds no benefit to either party. Just be honest with yourself and others. That’s always super important.

For those of you, my handful of regulars who are around... you know who you are. Thank you. My thanks is but a meager conveyance of my undying gratitude for you. But I want you to know how much I appreciate your presence here. Words cannot express.

@halzore... You are a real mate. You are an incredible being who is not only insightful but, a true muse here. I look to you as more than just a devoted Reader of mine, and you should know that I would NOT have gotten this far with my Bad Batch Post Order: 66 series—or any of my Bad Batch works, for that matter—without your encouraging words. Holy cow. You’re a dearest friend. Your writing, art, and musical talent leaves me in awe. (A truly brilliant mind, please go love her y’all). Thank you for seeing all the good, little things in me and my work. It makes this all worth it. You make it all worth it. I get really overwhelmed thinking about it. But I just want you to know I appreciate you so much.

To anyone who’s ever left me kind, encouraging, and wonderful comments... I remember them. I do. I think of them when I’m down, and I think of them now as I write this—which is in my dispirited state, ironically. But I appreciate it. I think it is so SO important to lift each other up with words. You don’t have to reblog and all that (only speaking for myself here). Just take a moment to say something kind to someone. It makes someone’s entire day, week, month, year. Please... love other Writers. Love yourself. We all struggle. But let’s do it together. Let’s be there for each other.

Come talk to me. I don’t bite, I promise. Tell me about your day. Tell me something about yourself. I care. I love that interaction, because you are MORE than just a Reader to me. You are a valued human being with feelings, desires, wants, needs... come share that with me. If there’s something you’d like to see in my future works, something that would engage you more; please, come tell me.

I’m going to try and get better. At writing, at navigating this strange place, with my health, with life. I’ve been at my breaking point for so long that my barely held together pieces and exposed, worn chinks are almost uneffected and unresponsive to any help or healing. But I’m going to try.

Thank you for being here. I’m sure it can be hard to have patience with me and my nonexistent uploading schedule, but, I do have several wips in the works (teases in my masterlist in case you’re wondering). They’ll come around. :’)

Keep your head up and shining, lovelies. And I’ll try to do the same.