#which is fine but its making it hard to feel motivated when there's still so much left to go :(

[emilyjunk]

imagining a world where i didn't feel the need to write a 40k one shot for every fandom i'm in

[woongisi]

Hot & I Hate It // Park Sunghoon

power struggle but eventual sub!Park Sunghoon x dom!fem!Reader // SMUT

WC// 4.1k

Synopsis// Park Sunghoon is the thorn in your side. The really hot thorn in your side. An "apology" visit changes your view on him for good.

Warnings// arguing, unprotected sex (use protection please xx), drinking, name calling (slut, whore), pain play (smacking), dacryphilia

Author's Note// I've been sitting on this baby for so long and finally got the motivation to complete it. Idk how I feel about it but I hope you all enjoy. ☺︎

---------

7:16 pm

“Sunghoon. I'm so serious. I need you to stop talking before I shove this pen into your throat.”

Your best friend, Sunoo, being part of a band had its perks, it was hard to get hit on by greasy strangers when you're surrounded by 7 men you, for the most part, trust. It had its cons too… the biggest being the existence of Park Sunghoon. He was cocky, always made fun of you, and seemed to make it a point to push you to your limit. The only positive you could think of was that he was, at the very least, eye candy. Unfortunately for you, he was still part of the band, and he was still one of Sunoo’s closest friends. There was no changing that.

You'd only been out to dinner for around half an hour. Jake had found some pizza joint with drinks and cheap food. In that half hour alone Sunghoon had made fun of your height, and your choice of clothing, and bumped into you a few times which you assumed was on purpose. The food hadn't even made it to the table. Whatever the reason, you especially weren't in the mood for his shit today.

“Aww, I'm so scared.” Sunghoon leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna throw a hissy fit, huh?”

“You know what.” In one quick movement, you shoved your chair backward and slammed your hands down onto the table as you stood up. “Fuck you, Sunghoon. I'm going.”

Grabbing your purse and heading toward the door, Sunoo called after you. “Where are you going?! At least tell me where! You didn't even drive here!”

“Anywhere that isn't with that asshole!” You slammed the door behind you.

“Damn. What's up with her? I thought you were just joking around.” Sunoo murmured and shoved his face into his hands. “I should go after her. It's not safe to be out around here alone. Sunghoon, you're coming with.”

“What about the pizza-”

“Get up.”

“Fine.”

7:23 pm

In the meantime, you'd slipped into some grimy little dive bar a few streets down. The cleanliness was questionable, and it smelled concerning at best, but you supposed they didn't serve food. Perhaps the standards weren't so high. Fighting back tears, you slapped your card down on the counter and waved for the bartender.

“Give me something strong. I don't care what it is… Please.”

Thanking the man and tossing your head back, the shot burned the entire length of your throat. “Shit tastes like motor oil… guess I got what I asked for.” You sighed and ordered a cocktail. Something fruity, something to lift your mood.

A man took the bar stool next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Did you come here all alone?”

You hesitated, feeling uncomfortable already. “No… My friends are in the bathroom. They'll be back in a minute.”

“Playing hard to get? I watched you come in. Not a soul following you.” He pulled the thin strap of your shirt and let it snap back against your skin.

“Fine… You got me. Can you just let me be? I'm not in the best mood.” You chuckled half-heartedly and swatted his hand away.

“Aw, this kitty has claws. What's the matter? I just wanna talk. I can cheer you right up.”

By the time Sunghoon and Sunoo made it to the bar, you were a few too many drinks deep and desperately trying to convince the man to leave your side. They'd checked every building in the area, asking if anyone had seen a girl yay high in a black crop top and long black pants.

You heard a set of footsteps approaching you from behind, clutching your purse and preparing to have to fight.

“Leave her alone, shithead.” Sunghoon’s voice rumbled over the snide comments of the stranger. “She's not into you.”

“Who are you? Her boyfriend?” He scoffed.

Sunghoon cringed slightly at the suggestion he'd ever date you but gave the man a shove all the same. “What's it to you? What? You can't get some pussy so you creep on lonely girls at the bar, huh?”

“Why you think pretty highly of yourself, huh? How about we take it out b-”

Taking note of the commotion, the bartender waved over security who grabbed the dirt bag by the collar and dragged him away, much to his displeasure.

“Thanks…” You muttered and stirred the ice of your cocktail with your fingernail. Your heart was heavy, a predator replaced by the most insufferable man you'd ever known.

“Don't mention it.” Sunghoon stopped and for a moment you thought you might've misjudged him. “I just did what Sunoo told me to do.”

“Oh? Great to know you care about me soooo much.”

“Don't get your panties all in a twist, jeez.”

You shot a razor-sharp glare to Sunghoon and stood up, moving behind him to cling to Sunoo’s arm.

“Sunghoon, get your act together and apologize when you can bear to act nice.” Sunoo sighed and pulled you into his arms tightly. You were crying into his shoulder now, staining the dark orange fabric of his sweater.

Sunoo was a constant for you, you'd known him for years. He was always there to support you and the familiarity was something you needed far too badly.

“Come on,” Sunoo tapped your lower back with his finger. “I'll pick up some drive-thru and drop you off at your apartment. Sunghoon, go back to the boys. I'll meet you there in a few.”

8:00 pm

The drive back to your home was quiet. You didn't say a word, staring absentmindedly out the window. Sunoo hummed along to the songs on the radio which provided you some small amount of comfort. Walking you up to your door, he brushed the hair out of your face.

“Stop crying, alright?” He smiled and wrapped his arms around you again. “Get some rest. I'll talk to Hoon… call me if you need me.”

“Thanks. Love you, man.” You nestled your head into the crook of his neck for a moment before pulling away from him, then you slipped into your apartment. You peeked your head out the door until he reached his car safely and then collapsed on the couch.

8:37 am

You awoke with a start, jumping out of your skin to the sound of someone knocking firmly on your door. You threw on some modest pajamas and opened the door, immediately pissed. Sunghoon. At your front door. Admittedly he looked incredible. His long black coat was double-breasted, adorned with silver buttons, and taken in at the waist to compliment the shape of his body. His pants were just as well tailored, and his shoes well polished.

At some point in the night, it had snowed and was continuing to snow now. Sunghoon’s ears and cheeks were flushed pink by the biting cold. Fluffy white snowflakes decorated the black hair that landed so naturally to the sides of his face and more landed on his lashes before he quickly blinked them away.

“What do you want?” You avoided his gaze, shuffling your feet and feeling defeated.

“Sunoo thinks I'm here to apologize.”

“So you aren't?”

He simply shrugged and questioned if you were going to let him in.

Reluctantly agreeing, you sat down on the couch with him clear on the opposite end. Neither of you said a word, but you could feel him staring at you even while you looked away.

“I was just messing with you, y’know.”

“You know I don't like it.”

“I know you overreact.”

You snapped your head to look at Sunghoon in bewilderment.

“You know what I know? I know that I hate your guts.”

“You gotta learn to calm down and take a joke.”

You were standing in front of Sunghoon now, annoyed at the way he lounged back on the couch and man spread like he owned the place.

“Honestly, Sunghoon. If you just get out of my fucking house you can tell Sunoo you apologized, and I'll even back you up. I was sleeping pretty peacefully until you got here. To be entirely truthful, I could die happy if I never saw your stupid hot face again! I could live my whole life without seeing those dark eyes or the little moles that dot your face and be-”

“Hot?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m hot?”

You stared at him stunned, not even realizing what you'd said. You opened your mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Those same deep brown eyes you'd thought about more than you'd ever admit were now resting heavily on your form.

“Shut up.” You hissed and crawled on the couch, straddling Sunghoon's lap and crashing your lips against his.

He gasped, processing what was happening, before grabbing your waist with his large hands. He attacked back with vigor, forcing your bodies closer together. Despite having spent time in the freezing cold, his body was searing. He tasted like bitter coffee, the scent of it lingering on his breath and mingling with the scent of your perfume.

“You know I wanted to like you,” You tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth. “I've always thought you were so fucking fine, but every time you open your mouth I pray to whatever higher power that you shut up.”

“You seem to like me plenty right now…”

“Stop talking. Please.”

Sunghoon made some sort of acknowledging nod, allowing you to settle back in. Your chests were pressed firmly together, your hands tangling through his silky black hair. Heavy breaths filled the surrounding air, panting against each other's faces with lewd strings of saliva connecting you.

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice was laced with need that made your stomach swirl. “I-I'm gonna be honest. I'm getting really hard here but if we're going to go farther I need to know if you really want to do this or if it's just the heat of the moment you'll regret later.”

You smoothed Sunghoon's hair back and pressed a kiss against the tip of his nose. The tenderness of your action made his train of thought falter.

“I mean it when I say I hate your guts,” You growled. “That unfortunately doesn't mean I hate the way you feel against me. Please make yourself useful, I want it.”

He let out a breathy “fuck” and lowered his hands to your ass, urging you to give him some kind of friction. He sheepishly heeded your warning of getting too greedy, you reminding him this was out of the kindness of your own heart. Sunghoon latched onto your neck, his sharp canine teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Something was too good about the warmth of his mouth with the slight pain of his bites that was soon soothed by his plush lips.

“Sunghoon,” You moaned softly. “Bra. Take it off… if you even know how.”

He was quick to oblige, grabbing the hem of your nightshirt and aiding you in slipping it off. You donned a sports bra, one that closely matched your skin tone and featured a zipper up the front. You insisted they were more comfortable to sleep in and easier to remove this way.

The confused “ah?” that escaped Sunghoon was almost cute. He took the zipper in his shaky hands and unzipped it almost painfully slowly, biting his lip at the sight of your tits suddenly being free of their confines and spilling out.

“Damn…” Sunghoon muttered with wide eyes, making you feel suddenly vulnerable.

“So now you like what you see? Men. All the same.” You looked to the side in an attempt to hide the deepening blush on your cheeks.

Only after sneering, Sunghoon happily took your tits into his hands, squeezing lightly. His tongue swirled around your nipple, purposely avoiding the bud itself. Your hand rested on the nape of his neck so you could encouragingly (or rather, impatiently) dig your nails into his skin so he'd cut to the chase. Sunghoon harshly sucked your nipple between his teeth, tugging and swirling it in the process.

Sunghoon felt he could stay in this position forever and be completely content with his decision. He shuddered when you scratched his nape softly, trying to get his attention.

“As nice as this is… I didn't agree to this so you could use me like a stress ball.”

He considered making a snarky remark but thought better of it. The sight of Sunghoon’s flushed face and furrowed brows almost stressed you out, praying he couldn't feel the pulsing of your cunt against his lap.

“Alright, I'm sick of this…” You sighed, smirking at the way Sunghoon’s face twisted into a pout. “I think I'm going crazy, just get your dick out.”

The two of you scrambled off of the couch, removing most of your clothing in a hurry. You kept your panties on at first, allowing Sunghoon to rip them off of you as long as he bought you a new pair, a pair even nicer than the ones he'd ruined.

Settling back down on the couch, you lay on your back with Sunghoon moving to hover over you. Sunghoon freed his cock from the confines of his briefs and gave it a few languid strokes for good measure. The sight of him nearly stole your breath. He was of pretty average length, but girthy with a pleasant curve to the left.

Feeling precum drip onto your thighs, you huffed and pulled Sunghoon into a brief but harsh kiss. “I've been insulting you and treating you like shit this whole time, yet you're leaking all over the place. You like it when I'm mean to you, hm?”

“I… I guess I can't deny it at this point.”

“Slut.” You murmured, which caused Sunghoon to gasp in protest.

“I'm not a slut, what the hell?!”

“Yes, you are. Why else would you be so worked up from me degrading you? Say it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Sunghoon. Say you're my bitch or I'm putting my clothes back on right now and kicking you out.”

“Fine… I'm… I'm your bitch.”

Sunghoon despised the electricity that shot through his core when he heeded your demands. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be the one in charge, the one calling you names. Yet, the humiliation that burned his cheeks clouded his mind with hazy arousal.

You reached down, wrapping your hand around Sunghoon’s cock so you could guide the tip to your entrance, rubbing it in small circles against you.

“Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

Sunghoon's reply came across so softly, whining when you urged him to finally push into you. Every inch of him stretched your walls so intoxicatingly.

“Oh, fuck,” Your breath hitched once his hips finally pressed against your skin. “So good, Hoon, so good.”

“Ah? I haven't even done anything yet. That's all it takes to-”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry…”

His thrusts were slow at first, too slow. You could tell he was absolutely relishing in the feeling of your walls around him, this would have irritated you if it didn't stroke your ego so well.

“Sunghoon,” He hadn't moved in a minute. Just staying in place with his eyes screwed shut, panting heavily. “Earth to Sunghoon. Speak to me or I'm shutting this whole operation down.”

Sunghoon’s eyes shot open, his pupils blown wide with lust. His hand moved to grab your own tightly. “W-wait, I'm ok. Promise. Just… so tight. Please.”

A moment later, Sunghoon seemed to regain his icy composure. Every slap of his hips against you brought a low grunt from him. Yet, every so often he faltered with a whine. He was trying his best to maintain some dignity though deep down he knew he was slipping.

Suddenly, your phone rang. Blasting some shit default ringtone you never bothered to change. You groaned as you reached for your phone, squinting at the brightness of your screen. It was Sunoo.

“Keep it down,” You warned. “It's Sunoo. I gotta pick up or he's gonna show up at my door.”

Sunoo sighed in relief when you greeted him. You sounded awake which was enough to convince him that Sunghoon had come to apologize like he instructed. You told him it had gone fine, that Sunghoon apologized and left, though you still hated his guts. Hah. Ironic, given he was in your guts at the present moment.

Snap. Sunghoon had apparently grown sick of waiting and granted a particularly rough stroke that slammed into your g-spot. You just about dropped your phone, doing your absolute best to stifle the noise of pure shock and pleasure that you let out.

“Y/N… you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just stubbed my toe.” You feigned pain quite well to try and pass off the aforementioned moan as an unpleasant one.

You found yourself gripping Sunghoon’s hair tightly and pulling it angrily. Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon did not try to hide his reaction. Not that he had much of a chance to process how good it felt.

There was radio silence over the phone from you and Sunoo both.

“Y/N was that Sunghoon?”

No reply.

“Y/N.”

“I gotta go, I’ll call you in a bit. Byeee!”

“Woah, hold on, wait a sec-” Sunoo was cut off by you ending the call and practically throwing your phone across the room.

“Oh. Oh we’re screwed aren't we?”

Sunghoon’s voice speaking meekly sent a wave of ire through you.

“Oh. Oh we are. Guess what? It's your fault too.”

You sat up, causing Sunghoon to slip out of you. Grabbing the silver chain he'd so foolishly left on, you yanked him toward you, causing him to lose his balance for a moment and hurriedly try to settle on his knees.

“Oh, fuck!” Sunghoon's breath caught in his throat as you tilted his head upward and smacked him square across the face. He was trembling visibly.

A realization hit you with horror and intrigue. He was loving this.

“Oh my God! You really are getting off on me treating you like shit!” You smacked him again, this time with more purpose and calculated force. “You're no better than a common whore!”

“Don't stop. Please don't stop!” Sunghoon was absolutely desperate. He'd tried to explore this aspect of his sexuality before but hadn't had luck finding a girl willing to indulge him. He absolutely couldn't lose this now.

Pushing him into place so that you were now hovering over him in turn, you closed in on Sunghoon like he was your prey.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Is this why you dedicate your time to getting under my skin?”

Sunghoon, at this moment, thought he could die. How could anyone be so indubitably hot? He felt vulnerable under you. Powerless. He was always the dominant one. Not just sexually. Tall, hot, imposing, and a man that people generally didn't want to mess with. You weren't scared of him. Sunghoon didn't understand why, but somehow he trusted you. Finally, he granted a reply. Perhaps it was time to give in.

“Yours. I wanna be yours.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “If I knew we'd end up like this I would've pushed harder. So, take it out on me. Whatever you want, I can take it.”

You could not believe your eyes. Your ears. Any of your senses. This wasn't an opportunity you were going to give up. You took a timeout to establish any hard boundaries and a safe word. You hated him (did you?), but he was still a person at the end of the day.

Sunghoon sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. You bound his wrists together with white rope that was specially designed with this in mind, then tied them to the posts of the bed. Normally it was being used on you. He looked gorgeous with the snowy bindings contrasting beautifully on his tanned skin. You cupped his cheek in your hand.

“Look at you.”

You forced your thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue so that he'd open up, spit pooling before running down his chin. You always did appreciate his sharp canine teeth and now was no exception.

“You dirty boy. Park Sunghoon, all at my mercy.”

Sunghoon flinched when you took tight hold of his sore cock. You kept your grip tight with every deliberate stroke, causing him to whimper and buck his hips up against your hand. You released him only to place a firm slap to his shaft which you followed with soft soothing tugs. Sunghoon yelped, slumping over helplessly. He'd become so pliant for you, so obedient.

“So this is all it takes, Hoonie?” He whimpered at the pet name. “Just needed someone to boss you around to crack you open.”

You spent god knows how long teasing and tormenting Sunghoon until his cheeks were wet with salty tears. Eventually, you felt like you were torturing yourself with how needy you were with your pussy clenching against nothing. You untied Sunghoon’s wrists and granted him permission to touch you again. He took you up on this eagerly, his hands roaming your body mindlessly.

“Be a good fucktoy and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

A choked moan ripped from Sunghoon’s throat when you finally sunk down onto his cock. He was even more sensitive and jumpy than when he'd first entered you, and you were even wetter. One hand placed on his abdomen, you felt his stomach distend and shudder along every pathetic sob. Sunghoon's stomach was well toned, not rock hard, but sculpted. He had a noticeable happy trail that drove you absolutely insane.

Sunghoon clung to you like he might lose you, allowing you to ride him to your heart's content and doing his very best to thrust up into you at the same pace. The more overwhelmed he got, the more he struggled to keep up. His head was buried into the crook of your neck, drooling and whining against your soft skin. He really has lost all his will to maintain his attitude towards you. It almost made you melt.

“Sunghoon,” You softly raked your fingers through his silky black hair. “You doing ok, hm?”

“Y-yes, love your pussy, wanna cum-”

Your pace slowed down to a consistent level. You held Sunghoon as close as you could. He’d entrusted himself to you and you felt the need to keep him secure.

“Alright,” Your voice was soft in his ear. “Cum for me. You've earned it.”

Sunghoon let go with a high-pitched cry, his thighs shaking underneath you. His cum flooded your walls in warm spurts. Your orgasm followed soon after, squeezing each and every drop of semen from Sunghoon’s twitching cock.

The two of you were quiet for some time, clinging to each other and coming down from your highs. Once you pulled off of him, his cum spilled from your pussy down onto his hips. Though he clearly wasn't completely clear headed he was already making moves to get his clothes on and go.

“Where are you going?” You frowned.

“Uh. Home… I figured you would just want me out of here as soon as possible.”

“Sit down, Sunghoon. Just sit down.”

You tossed a loose t-shirt on and hobbled to the bathroom with a groan. Your legs were already this sore? You were so fucked tomorrow. Cleaning yourself up quickly, you proceeded to wet a cloth with warm water and make your way back to Sunghoon.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this, Y/N? Why aren't you kicking me out?”

“It's aftercare, Hoon.”

“I…”

“I know. It's ok. You deserve it just as much as any of the girls you've slept with in the past.”

In the midst of you wiping the tears off of his face, Sunghoon looked up at you so weakly and did his best to keep himself from crying on the spot. He never expected you to let him be so exposed, never mind how sweetly you were treating him now. You handed Sunghoon his briefs and a throw blanket.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For being such an asshole. Everything I’ve done for you was willing, even if it was Sunoo’s idea. I actually couldn't stand the thought of you being alone in that bar with strangers. It's just… when our reputation for fighting is so strong it's hard to let you know I care.”

“It's alright. I accept your apology. I think I should say sorry too, though. For refusing to let you in. You trusted me to watch over you in your most vulnerable state and I… I don't know. It will take time but I think we can really be something.”

Crawling into bed, you invited Sunghoon to stay awhile. It was still early, after all. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his strong, steady heart. He hesitantly grasped your hand.

“To new beginnings?”

“To new beginnings.”

[etoileee]

GUYSSS IM SORRY I FORGOT MY DAMN PASSWORD LMAO

I’m here and I’m gonna give you guys some pjo shifting motivation because I think some of you need it 🫶🏼

i think a lot of people love and find comfort in percy jackson because a lot of us do struggle with adhd and dyslexia (I myself am one of them) and see ourselves in these characters. struggling with feeling like nobody gets you, like you don’t belong, that you’re dumb… its definitely not fun but these books had provided an outlet that made me and a whole lot of others feel seen.

when I came back from my percy jackson dr for the first time I didn’t think I was gonna get so emotional, but I did. I speak for a lot of us when I say we’ve grown up with these characters and MEETING them is something absolutely mind blowing. not only because they are so loved, but because all of us had gone through similar struggles. to this day at my big junior in high school age I don’t know what the fuck 9 x 8 is, the words still seem to rearrange themselves when I try to read…

I guess what I’m saying is yes, when you shift, you’ll meet the characters you love so so much, but you’ll also relate and connect to them in a way that you probably can’t even imagine.

I think a lot of people haven’t shifted yet because they think that shifting is like dreaming, that it’s something that will slip through your fingers, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m sure a lot of you are thinking “but I do believe in shifting?” but I think some of you have a hard time actually wrapping your mind around it.

look around you right now. notice the temperature, the textures, the colors, the sensations, the smell, the sounds. notice how you are not dreaming.

THIS is EXACTLY what shifting is like. it is not like dreaming, because it’s NOT a dream it’s REAL.

look around you and imagine that you had shifted into where you are right now. its a bit trippy, isn’t it? looking at the world around you as if it isn’t your cr.

for example, look up from your device and imagine percy jackson in front of you right now. how does it make you feel? are you shocked? happy? afraid?

I really do believe that some people haven’t shifted yet because they think shifting will be like dreaming, and when they realize it isn’t like dreaming they are afraid of it subconsciously.

I’m here to tell you that it’s not scary at all. sure, you may wake up in your dr and start crashing out (which is totally understandable) but its not something you need to FEAR. please remember everything you desire will be there. it will be PERFECT and more than what you could ever imagine.

If you’re still worried you’ll start tweakin once you do shift, I find that scripting you’ll be calm and that you forgot you’ve shifted helps a lot. sure you’ll feel massive shock when you get back to your cr but initially when you wake up in your dr if you have those two things scripted you should be fine.

good luck to all you, sending so much love and good vibes. 🤍🖤✨🌊

[jamiesfootball]

Season two of the Ted Lasso rewatch and I am having some string feelings. Some strong feelers. Some shrimp about Ted and Jamie and how Ted really, really struggles between being Coach Shaped and being Dad Shaped when it comes to Jamie, and how Jamie is horrible at discerning either.

(Buckle up this is gonna be a long one)

Because what we start off with in season one is very much a man who is used to being Coach Shaped. He wants the boys to be inspired and to learn about life and to become the best versions of themselves that they can be. All of which could be very Dad Shaped, but in execution they’re not.

He steps back to let people grow, and sometimes that involves letting bullies be bullies so that the true leaders of the group can step up. Sometimes it’s letting Nate roast the other players- quite cuttingly at that - to get the team motivated. He’s directing the orchestra sure, but he’s not in the pit telling people how better to get along. He’s warm and welcoming, and he tries to foster good rapport and encourage people to talk to him and open up. He, dare I say it, actually has boundaries with people. He asked Rebecca in the first episode how she was holding up with the divorce, and when she seemed upset he noted it, offered a little commiseration, and moved right along without making a fuss.

And then he calls Jamie Tartt into his office to give him a compliment sandwich (“you’re a great athlete now pass the fucking ball and then you’ll be a super great athlete okay thanks”) and I think that’s where Ted’s boundary with Jamie first starts to erode. Because Jamie unintentionally ruins his whole fucking script. Jamie’s disaffected act crumbles at the first compliment. He’s sincerely taken aback by Ted’s praise, a little nervous and a little pleading. He breaks the rules of compliment sandwiching by demurring “well I work really hard”, which forces Ted to agree which is in a way TWO compliments, and when Ted tries to push through with his critique, Jamie ends up critiquing himself first about something completely different (“my left cross”), and then Ted has to wrestle them back to the actual critique, and the whole thing is just. Definitely not the ordeal Ted thought it would be.

So from early on we have these two working at cross purposes - because Ted thinks he’s being Coach Shaped, but the Shape he is doesn’t fit any Coach Jamie has ever had.

���what’s he like?”

“Great”

“…….”

“Well great at football”

“Yeah, I’ve know guys like that.”

And in return, Ted has known ‘guys like that’, competent athletes who are a necessary part of the game, but have such egos (“I’m not sure you realize how mentally healthy that is”) that Ted thinks he has to go to his players girlfriend for insight on how to motivate Jamie in the way that Ted needs for team cohesion.

So this is Ted trying to be Coach Shaped and give this kid a wake up call and this kid is so receptive that Ted barely had to lift a finger. But it doesn’t stick.

Ok. So next he attempts to give Jamie a book that he thinks will wake him up to the reality he’s living. He gave them to everyone. He’s still being Coach Shaped. He makes Roy and Jamie sit at the same table and tries to orchestrate a truce. He kinda gets there, but the next episode they’re still at each other’s throats. Jamie listened to Ted about the one in a million / one in eleven thing, but then Jamie ignored it. So he benched him. He’s Coach Shaped; it wasn’t personal.

Except Ted is not has not been anything Coach Shaped that Jamie could recognize, and football really is his life too. So it was very fucking personal. And here’s the first wrinkle in the narrative both of them have been telling themselves, because what does Jamie do? He fakes an injury and benches himself.

If Ted doesn’t think he should play, or doesn’t think that the way he’s playing is correct, then fine- he’ll make them both miserable. He just won’t fucking play. It’s kid logic at its finest. It’s cutting your nose to spite your face. ‘Well you said I wasn’t doing it right, so I won’t do it at all.’

It’s the same shit Jamie pulls on his dad when he leaves Man City to go be a reality tv star.

And it’s the first crack in the veneer between them, because the way Ted loses his shit at Jamie for it is not very Coach Shaped, but it is very very Dad Shaped. And unfortunately it was the sort of Dad Shaped that Jamie did recognize.

It’s the first loss of control Ted has in general, and it’s circling this player that Ted can’t seem to get a grip on.

And then there’s Jamie going to Keeley, and he’s got Manchester on his mind. It’s the first time we’ve heard him talk about the council estate he grew up in, and Keeley is telling him to stop battling people who want to help him. So he goes to the bonfire. And he talks about the fucking footprint his dad left in his wake. And he talks wistfully about his mom being proud. And this isn’t just about opening up to the team, it’s also about Jamie Tartt not battling Ted. Taking a risk that even if Ted isn’t very Coach Shaped, even if he appears closer to Dad Shaped than Jamie would like, whatever Ted is - Jamie is probably safe to be a little honest.

It’s not very Star Athlete With An Ego of him; but it’s very very Son Shaped.

“I was just starting to get through to him.”

Ted’s anger with Rebecca could be Coach Shaped. It could be. But it sure hurt him enough that it’s the first time he’s actually angry with Rebecca. Meanwhile Jamie was so hurt he had to tell everyone who would listen about it. Had to iterate that it was good riddance on being rid of Ted Lasso, because at least Pep was a proper Coach Shaped Coach. Someone who’d drill Jamie on the technicals. Someone who probably never once cared enough to pull him aside and tell him if he did a good job. Someone who probably assumed that’s what Jamie’s dad was for, showing up after matches.

“Good luck out there, Jamie!”

“Fucking mind games.”

Whatever Jamie already thought of Ted as a coach must’ve been rolling in the pit Jamie tried to bury it in, because Coach Shaped men don’t cheer you on when you’re playing for the other team. Pep wouldn’t do it if he still played for Richmond.

And maybe Coach Lasso does it for everyone he coaches. Probably. But it’s a very Dad Shaped thing. And fuck, Jamie’s actual fucking dad doesn’t cheer for him at all when Jamie isn’t playing for Manchester, so how’s Jamie supposed to know what it means?

Then there’s Ted, who just can’t help himself. Who can’t help but see potential in Jamie. And when he sees Jamie after the match, it’s a quick war on whether he should speak to him because in that instance Coach mode and Dad mode are in alignment.

Except reality hits as hard as a boot against the wall, because Jamie has a dad. And it’s not Ted. It’s not someone who’s come to tell him well done, or that he’s proud of the baby steps Jamie has taken, even though he’s been left to walk them alone. It is the opposite of what a father should be, but it’s taken up the mantle. Father Shaped. A thing of fury. A role fulfilled, not looking for new applicants.

Coach wins in that moment. Ted turns and walks away, and Jamie can finally see now in Ted Lasso the Coach Shape he’s familiar with.

Except even that can’t stick around and be familiar can it? Because while no one was looking, the Dad Shape in Ted scribbled him a little message. Left a note in his absence to let him know he was proud. Sent Beard with an army man, someone to lookout for Jamie and keep him safe. I’d say at this point a Ted Lasso couldn’t’ve drawn a line between Coach Shaped and Dad Shaped - this was a matter of pure human empathy, and decency, and an apology in its own way. I’m sorry for the roles we’ve been given. I’m sorry, but please know I care.

He walked away from Jamie and his dad. He didn’t have any obligation to Jamie. There was no more match to be won. Any involvement of Jamie Tartt in Ted’s life coulda woulda should’ve ended there.

“There’s something out there worse than being sad, and that’s being sad and alone. And ain’t nobody in this room alone.”

The look on Jamie’s face in that scene says it all. Because he is alone, but Ted clearly (desperately) doesn’t want him to be.

But being alone is better than being stuck in a room with James Tartt Sr.

Jamie doesn’t go to Ted first after Lust Conquers All. Why would he (think he had the right to)?

The first thing Jamie does do (after Keeley tells him it’s ok to go to Ted) when he meets Ted again is show him the Ted (Danson) Soldier. Ted may have made the gesture, and Jamie may have understood the meaning of it, but he does Not understand Ted. Not this Coach-but-Not-a-Coach. Still Jamie thinks he has the distinction down - what soft underbelly he thinks he needs to bare for this type of Coach to believe him when asks for a chance to come home.

“You were getting good minutes up at City.”

Ted redirects Jamie here in a very Coach Shaped way. He guides Jamie into admitting the real reason why he quit. He hears Jamie out, makes observations about how Jamie coming back would work from a team perspective, and makes only occasional eye contact. This is Ted clinging to a role that he’s used to, the one that comforts him in its ability to help other people.

(If there is something Dad Shaped in that scene, it’s an awful, haunting one. Not the one that Jamie grew up with, but the one that Ted grew up with. The one who took his son to play darts every Sunday for six years, who probably sat next to him and drank beer the way Ted does)

But Ted never set out to be anyone’s dad. He’s their Coach, and he has a responsibility to everyone on his team. It’s nothing personal; he’s just being a Coach.

They clink glasses. Cheers, and best of luck to your future endeavors.

There is something very tired about the way Jamie puts down his beer without taking a sip. He looks lost. He does not look surprised. (How could you have expectations for something you’ve never known? And how come that doesn’t make him feel any better about it?)

We don’t see Jamie after that.

We see Ted at training, worrying about Dr Sharon watching the team he’s made. He worries that she’s getting closer (metaphor). When Sam storms off the field, Ted is startled but relieved to follow. He doesn’t want self examination. He wants to be Coach. He wants to embrace the parts of coaching he’s always loved- helping other people improve and be better.

Sam tells him that he doesn’t want Jamie back on the team, and there’s a split second of relief from Ted because he made the right call.

Then Sam talks about his father, and how his father is grateful for Ted because with Ted around, he knows his son is safe. Because this has nothing to do with being Coach Shaped. Coach Shaped he may be in Sam’s life, but here’s Sam, who is very Son Shaped himself, and his father agreeing that Coach Lasso serves a greater purpose in Sam’s life than just being a supportive motivator. In their mind, in the absence of a father, Ted Lasso will do just fine. He will keep Sam safer than any little green army man.

That’s the final inexorable blurring of the lines for Ted, where the coach finally drops the ball to pay attention to the scraped knees that have been left behind.

Ted calls the Diamond Dogs meeting. Coach Beard and Coach Nate are very Coach Shaped indeed. What about the teamwork, Ted? “He’s the poop in the punch bowl.” Leslie is for bringing him back, but it’s for football reasons. It makes managerial sense.

But none of it means anything to Ted because at that moment he can not find it in himself to be Coach Shaped.

“I thought it was settled, but Sam went and unsettled it.”

“He reminded me that not everyone is lucky enough to have a good dad.”

“In sports aren’t we always on about second chances? Shouldn’t that apply to people too?”

This is not Coach Shaped. In some ways it’s not even Dad Shaped. But it is caring, and empathy, and wanting an excuse, any excuse, to try again. It is Love Shaped.

Ted Lasso is a coach to his team and a dad to a great little boy down in Kansas, and for Jamie Tartt he can try to fit on a third extra thing. Whatever that thing is called. Neither of them know what that thing is called. They’re too familiar with Coaches and too unfamiliar with Dads to know the difference.

[call-me-copycat]

BNHA Spoilers:

(Also this is just a complaint post, I'm not very good at explaining my thoughts so please don't try to argue :⁠-⁠( Feel free to add on thoughts but I can't argue )

I have to say I'm not too happy with the leaks, which is hard for someone like me to admit!

As an AceAro person, I was thrilled with the original ending and the fact that no ships were confirmed nor denied, because it left enough for the fans to work with while not shutting anyone down outright

I'm not really a fan of ships, I'll be honest, and I don't really like romance in anime (hard to avoid! I know!), but I never really saw anything wrong with people and their ships and whatnot, and I never minded analyzing some of them for some friends - it was all in good fun after all!

The pairs in the leaks felt like something out of character almost, it didn't feel very... Horikoshi Style I suppose

I do enjoy getting extra MHA content, I always always will, but it isn't a good feeling to me seeing these characters in this anime that focuses on motivation and inspiration and becoming Heroes eventually getting together and dating - I'm not sure, I guess it's the unfitting themes? Something about it unnerves me

I don't know, I've always been adverse to romance my whole life, I always preferred plot and writing instead of two characters getting together (if the plot and writing lead up to two characters getting together? I'm fine with that)

I've seen people saying Uraraka and Deku are canon and I have to say... I don't really feel comfortable with that

I can see it as cute, yes! But I feel that he didn't have as deep a relationship to her as he did with Bakugo (they're always themed around each other, and I found whatever relationship they have with each other very profound, as it ran very deep for a very long time)

Same goes with Toga and Uraraka - it happened over the course of the series, I got to see them learn and struggle together, I got to see them talk about their problems and desires and it felt overwhelmingly different than when it's Deku and Uraraka

I may be biased in the end, I have friends who ship Deku and Bakugo and I have friends who ship Uraraka and Toga, but I've seen some very informative takes that explain it a lot better than me why I think they're such good parallels to each other

I like that Deku and Uraraka are good motivators to each other, Uraraka inspired him in the beginning when he really needed it and he returned it to her as well - but I can't really see it as romantic? Then again, ignore that because I can't see anything in MHA as romantic

I dunno, I feel the romance really overtook the whole plot away from the ending and I'm devastated - that's all what everyone's talking about right now, no?

Deku and Uraraka

Denki and Jiro

The rumor of Bakugo being married (?)

Kinoko and Kuroiro are dating

That's not even all, there could be more that I easily missed

It feels very unsatisfactory, it makes it seem like Love was the entire meaning of the series My Hero Academia when it was not! I'm a big full-circle person, I would have adored a call-back! Something that alludes to the beginning of the series, like what they did with the cover

I want to see how Hero Society is, I want to see Deku and how he coped with the loss of OFA, I want to see Aizawa, I want to see Present Mic! How is he doing, I want to know if he's okay? Is Nezu still the principal? There are less demand for heroes since there aren't as many villains, I want to see that change and its effects! I want to hear more about Vigilante Heroes, and I want to see other Underground Heroes, I want to know more about the Quirk Doomsday Theory, and more about what the world was like when quirks first formed, and I would like to see Hisashi Midoriya! There's so much, see? I would rather talk about that and more over who's dating who ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ )

It has its good moments, I will always love seeing the (former) class interact with each other, and I really liked seeing the new Hero Rankings, especially with some of the aged up designs for the characters - I can feel how much love Horikoshi has for these characters no matter what's going on in the series

I don't know, don't take me too seriously because I am a biased person after all - I've dropped one of my favorite book series as a kid because my favorite (the most competent) character died, and then every person in the book had gotten together with another person - it was a similar disappointment because it ignored the plot (it was a post-zombie apocalypse series) in favor of looking towards romance once more

Fairy Tail recently came out with their 100 Years Quest, and I know I dropped the anime early on as a kid (in favor of MHA ironically), but coming back to it only to see almost (if not) all characters together in a relationship, some with kids? I know, don't go near anime if you don't like the tropes, I've been told that before - I'm just complaining a little because I didn't expect to see it in MHA so I'm a little shocked

Nevertheless, I'm still looking forward to seeing the rest of the epilogue, I'm always a fan of Horikoshi even if I don't like some things (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）. It's still a treat for me to get more MHA content, I love the art and I love being a part of the fandom -

I'm sure some time in the future I'll even miss the shipping wars that went on lol

[minki-moo]

♡‧₊˚ 𝙤𝙝, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝 ♡‧₊˚

pairing ♡ yunho x f!reader tags ♡ bf!yunho, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, accidental exhibitionism rating ♡ e for explicit w/c ♡ 500

a/n ♡ omg gamer yunho is here ;) once again i was projecting but in reality i want him to carry me in valorant so bad (also did i make everything purple and use a reyna voiceline as the title cuz he's a reyna main? yes. yes i did)

"yunho, you good?"

you could hear the voice of yunho's teammate through his headphones. he'd been playing valorant for hours, promising at least three games ago that he would get off.

so he could help get you off.

unfortunately for you, he got caught up in his competitive games, his winning streak motivating him to play even more.

unfortunately for him, however, you decided to take matters into your own hands. which also involved taking his cock down your throat.

"i-shit-i'm fine. just a bit tired." yunho tried to grab your hair, holding you still, but his hips kept bucking up into your mouth anyways.

seeing him start to lose his composure like this awakened something inside you; you were never really the dominant one so this was very new to you.

when you fell the grip on your hair loosen, you decided to tease him even more. hollowing your cheeks, you suck hard on most of yunho's length, using your hand to stroke the rest of it. hearing yunho's gasp above you makes you move even faster, taking you other hand to gently play with his balls, earning you another choked out moan.

"fuck-baby please keep going." you look up at yunho, his eyes closed and mouth open as little gasps leave it. the expression on his face was enough to make your pussy clench. you were waiting for hours to have his cock inside you, but seeing yunho like this was satisfying in its own way. now, you're craving his release. you wanted his cum and you wanted it now.

removing your hand off his cock, you take all of it in your mouth, gagging on the head as it slips past the back of your throat.

yunho lets out a muffled whimper, desperate to keep quiet. "mmph-fuckfuckfuck 'm gonna cum." he starts to tremble as his climax approaches, covering his mic with his hands hoping no one else could hear him.

you quickly pull off his leaking cock, only taking the tip in between your lips and running your tongue on his slit as you bobbed your head up and down. hearing a cry above you, you feel yunho's cock throb in your hand and his salty cum shoots into your mouth. without hesitation, you put his whole length back in your mouth to make sure no drop of cum goes to waste.

once yunho came down from his high, he pulled you off his softening cock, panting as he looked down at the smirk on your face. "wow. just wow."

"mhm", you say as you crawl from under his desk. giving him a kiss on the cheek, you whisper in his ear, "i'll be waiting."

he stares at you in awe as you walk out of the room, only taking his attention off of you when the red "defeat" screen illuminates his room.

"damn yunho," his teammate sounded shocked but also somehow impressed. "i didn't know you could moan like that."

a/n i sincerely apologize for the last line (only a little tho it's kinda funny)

@anyamaris @yuyusboyfriend 🫶🏾

[buttered-milky]

So how does Messmer's story interact with a theme of autonomy?

OMG FUCKING FLAPPING MY HANDS SO HARD AT THIS ASK GLAD YOU FUCKING ASKED ANON 💞✨💞✨💞✨

Okay, sorry it took me one grillion years to get this posted, but it is basically an essay and I also have Many Life Events that prevent me from getting a chance to sit down and write. I have many thoughts. I will put them under a read more.

When I say Messmer’s story is about autonomy, I mean this specifically in relation to disability.

To me, the base serpent functions as an allegory for some sort of disability. We know the base serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame—this is his curse, to have this eldritch thing gnawing at his soul.

Now how is the base serpent treated by those around Messmer? And how does it affect his life? (Answer: negatively)

Let’s start with how the serpent itself functions as an independent agent. For a moment please forget what I said about it being a disability metaphor—it still is but that’s a mystery mouskatool for later. Right now we’re gonna talk about it as a living entity of its own.

As I pointed out, the serpent feeds on Messmer’s flame, and this harm and how intertwined it has become with Messmer’s existence limits Messmer. It has affected his view of himself to the point it limits his choices in life. How to present himself—with or without flame? He associates his flame with the serpent. How to fight—with or without the serpent’s power? It doesn’t seem to hurt him to use the serpent, but it does make others uncomfortable.

The harm itself of the serpent using Messmer as a food source is also a very basic imposition on Messmer’s autonomy. Of course he doesn’t want an eldritch snake gnawing at him like a chew toy, but the serpent is not going to leave him alone. It does not give him his own space and freedom.

Messmer tries to remove his flame not because the flame itself is a curse, but because it attracts something which is. That’s deeply fucking sad. He’s trying to remove parts of himself—to change himself fundamentally—just to get basic freedom and autonomy.

Now let’s also look at how others see the base serpent. For example, Marika.

Listen. She tried her best with him but I do wonder when the grace seal happened. It seems (to me at least, though we have no confirmed timeline) to have been done early in his life given the language used to describe the serpent. This was urgent. Marika was very worried about this wicked serpent and what it was doing to her son! This is important, by the way—that she does these things out of love.

Marika is also, however, deeply concerned with her own ideals. For example, light, the source of her own grace and of Messmer’s power. Messmer seems to scorn those “devoid of light” as he puts it. Darkness in itself is a curse under the Golden Order. Perhaps she wants to save the flame within Messmer for this reason, although there is definitely the motivation of that is her son.

The dual motivations, to both protect someone and to enforce our ideals of what is “best” is what hurts so many disabled folks. Sometimes “normal” is not attainable—and it doesn’t have to be! What disabled people find normal or doable or comfortable is fine, and they should have the agency to say so. That’s where I see autonomy really coming into Messmer’s story as an important motif.

Messmer is unfortunately born into a society that, at least to Marika, seems prejudiced against the strange. He is born into a world that would hate him for having the base serpent (though that is no fault of his own). And instead of trying to change this faulty thinking in others, Marika changes her son.

Her healing is…a mixed bag. The blessings Marika makes for her son seem alright. That’s non-invasive medicine, and it’s not like she’s forcing these down Messmer’s throat. But the grace seal is more iffy. Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about the grace seal and whether that’s really accommodation. It does send a certain message that, uh, a core part of Messmer deserves to be locked away for eternity, which is not healthy for anyone to hear.

But I can understand why Marika did it, too. She thinks she is healing/accommodating her son and making life livable. And maybe she is! The base serpent we see in the second phase of the fight looks painful. But that is also a manifestation of something that has been repressed for centuries and is boiling over.

I wanna know what the base serpent was like when he was born! Was it truly “wicked?” Did it want to hurt others, or just go after Messmer’s flame? Both? Was the base serpent just something Marika was uncomfortable with, because it took light from her son? How necessary is that light? I wanna know how necessary the grace seal was!

We know Marika had Messmer after her apotheosis—he is a demigod, after all. So at this point she is already being affected by the Greater Will and ideals that will become the Golden Order. I do think Messmer of all her children probably had the least of this Order forced upon him, but that isn’t to say he had none. He was in the Lands Between at some point, based on the fire giants and Impaler’s Catacombs. He did have to conform to some degree to be accepted.

He definitely had to conform to be accepted in Leyndell. People in the Shadow Lands may be accepting—we see Hornsent and no one gives a damn—but the Misbegotten and Omen in the Lands Between (who look a lot like hornsent, mind you)? Treated like absolute shit, because of the Order. There is no way Messmer was escaping such treatment, no matter if he was a demigod.

The grace seal could be accommodation, but it is also a manifestation of Marika’s and the Order’s ideals and the pressure to conform—to give up autonomy for safety (which is really no choice at all).

Above all, what Marika and/or Messmer do to “heal” him does nothing to fix societal prejudice. Nothing here fights for autonomy or freedom. Not the blessings, not the seal—I mean it’s a fucking seal, a lock.

And it only hides the base serpent, instead of actually fighting it, which in the end leads to destruction.

It is not necessarily a kindness to try to treat or cure a disability if you are not also working to undo the prejudice against said disability and provide accommodations. It is not necessarily a kindness to try to cure a disability which doesn’t need curing. And it is no kindness to demand disability be swept under the rug because it is not palatable enough to you.

This is where we see loss of autonomy.

Messmer is such a walking tragedy. He’s just doomed from the start. Marika is trying, but she’s not fixing the world, just continuing its cycles of violence. And even if she didn’t give him the seal, the base serpent would’ve been spurned.

As a last aside/point, I wanna discuss how Messmer deals with his own situation as a disabled person (and more generally a minority class) because it reflects something in the real world.

Messmer accepts the verdict that part of himself should be hidden, and that being what he is is bad, and he goes on to further this notion. He destroys the people his mother wants him to destroy. He commits genocide for many reasons, but one of them is because it guarantees a scrap of power under the Order. He preserves the status quo instead of fighting against it, and he tries to be “one of the good ones” to save himself as much as he can within a system that hates him.

He is someone who is not good enough for the order, and he is lightless, but at least he is denying himself to try to be like the oppressors.

Which gets you nowhere by the way. Being one of the good ones is never enough, and it will destroy you in the end.

[decaying-words]

The Innocent

All chapters Jonathan Crane x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 4.1k words TW & tags: NonCon, fear kink, masturbation, awful everything AO3 • All my stories

"She whimpers audibly, her scent turning acrid and pungent now; fear, she reeks of fear. I pant, a hundred meters behind her, putting enough distance to remain a formless creature while still appearing very much real in the dim light. The soft tremor turns into heavy shaking when she turns her head behind her shoulder, as if to convince herself that this is just a dream, just like the others she’s had. Then she screams, oh! she screams…"

The Innocent

Foreign music notes of a perhaps forgotten song vibrate in my dry throat in low hums, barely covering the insistent scratch of the fountain pen darkening the cream coloured papers splayed on my antique desk. The watch which delicately sublimes my bony wrist with its dark brown Italian leather and finely carved metal hands indicate three hours and fifty-six minutes in the afternoon; I still have four whole minutes, I realize with a palpable excitement that is most unwelcome in my line of work. My patient is, without a single doubt, already waiting in the other room; I will not greet her before the time has come, for it is absolutely crucial to not reveal any ounce of delight or impatience. In fact, I must remain perfectly professional, detached and clinical, or else I am taking the risk of exposing my ulterior motives and intimate desires. 

Four minutes is exactly the amount of time needed to adjust my tie (dark brown as well; a color not too contrasting to my marble pallor and which makes me look distinguished and inspires confidence, a key component in my profession), inspect my impeccable tweed vest made of Irish virgin wool dyed an exquisite amber color, and delicately clean the lenses of my round glasses with a microfiber cloth. Three hours fifty-nine; the last notes fade on my chapped lips when I leave my cognac leather armchair and direct my wiry frame to the door, spidery fingers holding the brass handle which feels pleasantly cold against my tight skin. 

Within my aging ribcage are percussions worthy of Ravel’s Bolero; intense in nature and laced with the fruitful musicality of controlled nerves. The entrance is methodical, natural and restrained, with a smile, polite enough to be welcoming but faint enough to remain professional, and soft crow’s feets rolling in a pleasantness that seems genuine. There are no emotions in my eyes; yet, dissimulated behind my glasses it might be hard to tell. My voice is warm and comforting, despite the crystal-like brokenness of its undertones which has been forged through the years.

Her smile, painted in a shiny coral red, is wide and transpires a heavy relief. She has been looking forward to our session all week long, I am sure; she reminds me of a teapot in the way she lets her worries fester until they turn ugly and make her completely dysfunctional. Her fingers cross and uncross nervously on her lap, as if incapable of knowing what to do with her own body, before she stands up, flattening her perfectly ironed marine blue pencil skirt, and retrieves her matching blazer jacket. I hold the door open and she penetrates my office with a footstep so light it could have belonged to a ghost; I notice the floral notes of her perfume, horrifyingly sweet and childish.

Through the nine sessions we had together, it is worth mentioning that her outfits are always delicately picked, colors matching and completed with a set of earrings (one on each lobe), a gourmette bracelet with her name engraved (a baptism gift, I reckon), and a now very familiar pearl necklace which I abhor passionately. Her hair is always impeccably styled down and her face painted just enough to be womanly without looking like a whore; something important, I suppose, for it matters greatly to her father. She reminds me of a ventriloquist’s doll, carrying a fabricated superficiality that betrays the profound emptiness of her soul. I am not certain she likes her appearance very much, the short heeled suede shoes, the old-fashioned manicure or the vulgar pearl necklace; but rather that she likes the simulacre of control on her life this shows on the outside, especially to her father, a figure we never cease to talk about.

My patient does not sit down until I instruct her to, the anxiety to pick the wrong choice and disappointment still viciously anchored in her childhood; an emotionally absent and academically demanding father tends to create such complex insecurities in the younger hearts. I would know. As always, we will be talking about it; and as always, she will unravel the same pointless secrets in an uninteresting logorrhoea that could very well bore me to death if it weren’t for the topic of her recurrent nightmares, cautiously sprinkled in her stories and immensely more fascinating —from a clinical point of view, of course. 

I am taking place in the armchair in front of hers, crossing one leg on top of the other, not dissimilar to two long and pale sticks enveloped in soft and tasteful fabric. My elevated ankle reveals the smallest ounce of marble skin, adorned with arched tendons which roll and disappear beneath the dark Egyptian cotton of my socks. I sense her heavy gaze following the slender silhouette of my legs to the tip of the deep brown leather of my derby shoes; a rosy tint blooms on her cheeks and my lips twitch in amused curiosity while she plays nervously with the pearls of this dreadful necklace which she is, in my humble opinion, either too old or too young to wear. She feels desire for me, despite being a couple of decades older than her; an expression, I believe, of her yearning for a paternal love, approval and affection.

My notebook lays graciously on my lap, angled in such a way that makes it impossible for her to see what I will be writing down, my treasured pen already in my hand. Adjusting my glasses on the long bridge of my aquiline nose, I offer her yet another muted smile, a silent invitation to begin the session; she appears flustered, blushing some more as I seem to have interrupted her train of thoughts —probably too vulgar for the image of herself she is desperately fabricating. I wonder if she is a virgin still, having spent the essential of her miserable life catering to her father’s needs and putting aside her own intimate desires; this would explain the subtle perfume of her throbbing sex floating in my office.

I find myself more than passively listening to her most uninteresting week in a way that freezes my nerves and makes me question my career choice, gently guiding her back to the heart of her confusing weaving as she wanders and rambles incoherently. None of her anecdotes are of importance to me, subtly urging her to open the can of her anxieties and core reason for her very presence on my couch; her recurring and unexplained nightmares. 

A couple of months ago, this patient reached out to me in an attempt to exorcize her most intimate thoughts and find a more peaceful slumber. When asked the nature of her night terrors, she confessed, with great difficulty and restraint at first, having this peculiar dream for years now in which she finds herself wandering around the unknown alleys of a surrealist city reminiscing of a dark and sterile-looking maze. She can never tell where she is, every window and every door looking the same, every turn sensibly similar to the next, the streetlights aggressively cutting harsh shadows against the smooth walls of the buildings. 

As her journey progresses, she notices a shadowy form following her every step and which does not make a noise aside from an ominous buzzing that makes the lights crackle; though it has not touched her yet, its presence alone is dreadful and suffocating enough to make her survival instincts kick in. She runs through the maze-like alleys in a vain hope to escape the figure, never successful in her doing; the shadow creeping at every corner, slipping through the cracks of the building like a liquid void, looming over her like a toxic cloud, and always watching her with empty eyes and whispering incomprehensible and otherworldly things in a gnarly voice resembling a sinister borborygmus.

She wakes up screaming, in tears and drenched in sweat before it can seize her.

There is an obvious answer behind her anxiety, one draped in the cloak of her oppressing father; and yet, despite the last few unproductive sessions and unfruitful attempts to take in my hypothesis, she rejects all and any idea of daddy dearest being the root of her misery. My poor sweet girl. Through her almost touching callowness if it weren’t laced with pungent naïveté, I find great intellectual pleasure in studying her profound fear; sometimes, when the moon hits and soaks my office in a creamy light, I dissect my numerous notes, each scribbled word reminiscing me of her giant doll-like eyes turning glassy with emotion, her painted lips aquiver with wretched anguish, her neatly cared eyebrows knitted in visible despair. She reminds me viciously of a newborn deer, frail and fragile; a sight so delicious it never fails to make my turgid sex throb in interest. I have learnt since to keep my legs crossed in front of her, of course.

Her fear is at the image of her personality; carefully crafted by her visceral fantasies which she struggles to control, as if her fabricated identity would cease and disappear if she knew how to confront it. There is something delectable in her innocent emotions, something exquisitely cruel in how laughable of a person she is, and I find myself morbidly curious to see her façade break and release her true self, dying and being born again. It is exhilarating really, the prospect of witnessing her weak mind shatter and rebuild itself, morphing into something pure and liberated, surpassing her ugly cocoon.

Fear is the most sublime emotion, a capricious mistress that transforms all beings into primal creatures; there is a beast inside all of us, I firmly believe, a döppleganger, infinitely mightier and profoundly fascinating, that only fear can free and liberate. I based my entire life on understanding the beauty of fear and how to elevate and transcend it, achieving our most glorious form; prying at people’s most intimate insecurities and feeding them the putrid fruits they truly do need to alter their mind irremediably, for their own benefit, I am certain. As such, it is past the clinical need but rightfully with a voracious desire and spiritual intention that I wish to see and unravel my Innocent’s breaking point. 

The sound of her trembled sob wakes me from my contemplative state, and I realize with great indifference that I missed her last couple of sentences, which I believe gave her yet another heartache. My occulted gaze devours the sight of her pained face, glassy eyes crying perfectly round and warm tears, her bunny nose reddening; I do not care much for her grief, an emotion I find particularly repulsive and grotesque and which she seems to feel quite frequently; this might be why I find her so unpleasant to be around. Instead, I hand her the tissue box that she politely accepts, wiping her tears and runny nose. 

The corner of my mouth twitches in disgust when I see her nervously touch her pearl necklace once again. This abominable pearl necklace that embodies everything about her that I hate; her child-like appearance despite being well into her thirties, her synthetic demeanor forged by an unyielding desire to be loved, her emotionally incestuous relationship with her undeserving father and her complete and total lack of self-esteem. 

Today’s session comes to an end and I am afraid we did not progress much, to my great dismay. I offer her the same frigid smile in which she always seems to find comfort when I open the door and shake her hand, a stark contrast to the warmth and subtle stickiness of her skin. She thanks me profusely and I nod in return, wishing her a pleasant rest of the day; I will be seeing her next week.

My simulacre of a smile fades as soon as she exits my office, a boiling irritation tinting the tip of my ears a crimson color, akin to a single rose in a snowy garden. I take an involuntary peek at my reflection in the window as I run a wiry hand in the dark feathers of my hair, silvering at the temples, a few gray strands adorning the generally brown mass. My thick eyebrows are knitted together in profound frustration, collecting today’s notes and sitting at my desk to study them. I cannot be satisfied with the glimpse of her unfledged anxieties, our exchanges do not nurture me professionally or otherwise ; slumping heavily in the leather armchair, a deep sigh swelling my tight chest, I lose myself in the labyrinthic corners of my mind, all the while ignoring the aggressive hardness of my sex, its throbbing feeling like the greatest treason in this precise moment.

I will not bring myself to completion tonight, for I find her fear vulgar and unworthy of my seed, a womb so barren it feels utterly meaningless. I will not even touch myself, I decide, denying her the attention and importance she desperately yearns for, refusing to besmirch my pride for such an insensitive mind. She is spoiling the sap of her soul in a way that is perfectly unacceptable to me and makes her look profoundly hideous; and I refuse to harvest the rotten fruits of a putrid heart. Instead, I will spend the night lost in my thoughts, with deep indignation for sole company.

It took me a complete day to recover from my turmoil and hatch a plan I deem satisfying, and four more to establish a detailed inventory of her nightly habits; following her at a reasonable distance in a now familiar fashion, carefully noting down any information of importance, I managed to know exactly when she finishes work, which Café she frequents, where she goes grocery shopping, which metro she takes home… During the day and in between two consultations, I conscientiously study the map of her neighborhood, carving in my memory every alley, every path, every building until I have a clear representation of my hunting territory. Victorious is a word that comes to my mind after such rewarding labor.

Tonight is the night. I am wearing my real skin, flesh made of burlap and soiled rag, fur made of dry straw and rotten thread stitching my articulations together. The used rope rolls like tendons around my throat, the noose loose enough to breath but not enough for it to be comfortable; a simple pleasure that will leave bruised memories on my neck like a passionate lover would. I caress my clothed form, the sensation unpleasant and rough to the touch and yet so deliciously stimulating, a sensation that never fails to make me hum appreciatively, heartbeat inappropriately lively for a Scarecrow .

It is ten hours and forty-five minutes on a Thursday night; she has been to the library tonight, devouring romance novels with her third cup of herbal tea –something horrifyingly fruity, I assume. An activity she indulges frequently, seeking refuge and comfort in the elegant place, something I cannot blame her for, considering the depraved state of the rest of Gotham, in stark contrast to the magnificence of the old architecture. This habit will also work in my favor, draping myself in the thickness of the night, my elongated figure barely noticeable in the corner of the street; at best, two glowing orbs pierce the obscurity, reminiscent of an animal of some sort, or better yet of an unsettling monster.

I hum the broken notes of an unknown song, a simple habit that feels right, lured in the dark and waiting for her to penetrate the first alley; I recognize her ghost-like footstep, short heels clacking subtly on the pavement, naive and unaware. Oh, my sweet girl.

She does not sense me for the first two hundred meters, her oblivious demeanor both entertaining and frustrating. There is something viscerally exquisite about seeing without being seen, teasing a very particular part of me; an almost erotic melange of power and impunity. I came to realize with age and experience that hunting is not dissimilar to foreplay, and therein lies my current problem; foreplay is not endless teasing, for I am neither patient nor interested in maintaining myself on the edge of my pleasure. And when I am being ignored for too long, I cannot help but feel somewhat insulted; ultimately, I want her to see me.

My fingernails tap and scratch the cold bricks, an abominable gurgling noise escaping my fatigued throat. She freezes instantly, and my sex twitches in sensible interest which I attempt to calm down, a feverish excitement pooling in my stomach. I distinguish the tremor in her silhouette and her breath hitching ever so slightly, a subtle perfume floating in the air, one that I know by heart now and makes my mind sing and mouth salivate. She does not look behind her, a wise choice I would say under more normal circumstances, her pace quickening in the narrow alley right between the first and third street of Gray Avenue. 

I inhale the acidic perfume of my body; I would like to say that my entire form is impregnated with the residuals of an old chemical toxin I’ve developed decades ago, but perhaps it is simply my own essence, now corrupted to its very core. I am certain that the delirious effects of these quasi pheromones will soon hit her as well and change her like I expect her to.

As she navigates through the almost pitch black alleys, fingertips grazing at the walls to help her find her way, I wheeze a wretched noise from within my ribcage, dreadful sounds I have been practicing since I was born and which never seems to get old. My poor girl is sobbing earnestly now, an arm wrapped around her middle section as if to seek comfort, almost running away from me, her short heels making a music akin to a typewriter in the night of Gotham. I am fully aware I have her complete attention, but I wish she would just look at me.

I run after her, vomiting more guttural gibberish from my distorted voice, fingernails hitting and scratching every surface in a pleading cacophony. She whimpers more frankly, I can tell how delicate her nerves are at this very moment. In her panic, she picks the wrong turn. Exquisite.

She looks around her with agony and confusion, persuaded that she would be welcomed by a bridge crossing the river of the Old Street; instead, she is met with a damp and sinister dead end. She whimpers audibly, her scent turning acrid and pungent now; fear, she reeks of fear . I pant, a hundred meters behind her, putting enough distance to remain a formless creature while still appearing very much real in the dim light. The soft tremor turns into heavy shaking when she turns her head behind her shoulder, as if to convince herself that this is just a dream, just like the others she’s had. Then she screams, oh! she screams…

Her crystalline voice breaks and shatters, pure and visceral, high pitched and perverted with terror; I am so hard I could hammer a nail in raw wood. I move in a dislocated fashion, long limbs akin to spider legs, the nightmarish look making her trip and fall on her bottom and crawl back, fingers desperately digging in the cold pavement until a nail breaks, curling her form into a ball in a damp corner. She cries so hard her face turns ruby red, smeared mascara leaving dark streaks on her puffy cheeks, glistening saliva bubbling on her screaming lips – oh, how beautiful she is, my sweet girl. My cock feels heavy in my now awfully tight pants; under different circumstances, maybe I would have offered her a different fate. 

She hides her face in her arms, fingers grabbing ferociously at her hair as if trying to wake herself up, but she doesn’t, no, she doesn’t wake up, and the reality is sinking in, especially when I am standing not even five meters in front of her. There is a bitter, stinging smell in the air, and a recognizable warm golden puddle underneath her shaking body that glistens beautifully under the moonlight; I purr in between two groans, witnessing her weakest form dissolve and collapse into the void of her mind that I have conceived. I want to create her anew, an abomination made of flesh and terror, and she will recognize me as her cruel Creator. My low distorted voice echoes in the muted alley, inspired and impassioned.

Are you afraid, child?

She screams louder, screams for help, screams for her life. But no one will save her, not here, not in Gotham, not this pathetic piss soaked girl . I mock and taunt her, towering over her as she chokes on her own sobs, desperate and painfully lonely. Why won’t anyone save me , she must be thinking. Why did Father lock me in this cell, she must be thinking. Why did Father abandon me in the cornfield. My laugh sounds more like a croak, sinister and penetrating, while she begs me for her life. 

Do you know who I am, child?

She does not. I blame it on her delirious state, on her body pumping her full of adrenaline, and most probably the toxins my body produces and which she’s been inhaling. This will not do, however; I want to ruin her in a way that matters, and for that to happen I need her to know who I am, what I represent. 

I crouch in front of her weaker form, barking her name and demanding she looks at me, which she does, obediently so; I reiterate my question, my hands hunched like claws scratching the walls around her. She cries harder, but her body produces no more tears, exhausted and drained; she screws her eyes shut and so I have no other option but to grab her hair viciously, forcing her to look at me.

And she does, oh she does , giant glassy eyes that lost their innocent spark and instead glow with a fury only trauma could forge and terror could sublimate. She sees the humiliation and the absence, the neglect and the judgment; she sees what she could have been if it had not been taken away from her. She does not say it but she mouths it, the two syllables of her misery.

Father.

My cackle is nothing short of demoniac, entire body jerking wildly enough to remember my turgid sex still leaking its filth in my ruined pants, heartbeat frantic as I am slowly but surely reaching my peak; release is not only needed but deserved , I believe, as my hand crawl inside my pants and free my cock, seizing it in a vicious grip that is mostly pain under her terrified and disgusted gaze. I take in her beautifully wrecked face as I pump myself with vigor and intent while croaking heavy moans, my eyes devouring every single wrinkle, every tear and tremor, swallowing the sight of the tense tendons of her throat choking on her sobs until I hiss in disgust at the repugnant pearl necklace. 

She does not need it anymore, I believe. And so, in a movement aquiver with lust and desire, my knotted fingers slip under the chain akin to a snake closing its embrace. She shrieks in pain when I pull tightly, a most needed evil I am afraid although ephemeral, the horrendous necklace eventually giving in to my brutal punishment and breaking. I hear the clattering of the pearls falling and rolling on the pavement, hand still tightly locked around my cock as I fuck my fist earnestly in deliciously wet noises; she caresses the skin of her bare neck, as if understanding something, her terrified eyes turning back at me and begging me to let her go. Oh, my sweet child, be certain that I will miss your honeyed pleas…

My orgasm comes quickly, long spurts of milky cum spilling on her throat, the soft flesh now adorning a unique, more appropriate and beautiful set of pearls. A generous gift, one she will remember fondly, I am certain. Her lower lips tremble as more tears roll down her cheek, although not a sound comes out of her mouth. I understand, it is a lot to process. Therapy can be difficult sometimes.

I left her alone to collect herself. Once home, and after a quick yet invigorating shower, I became busy writing down in great detail tonight’s experiment and, one must admit, its most triumphant outcome.

The day before our scheduled appointment, she informed me that she would not be able to come, pretending to have a cold. I understood, of course, and asked her if I would see her next week then. She said that she wasn’t certain, and that she would call back. She never did.

[whoreanghae]

water ; joshua hong

genre - protective shua, fake dating kinda?

word count - 1.1k

disclaimers - mentions of alcohol / being drunk, unwanted attention, lowercase on purpose, no proofreading, fic under the cut

a/n - just a short fic, nothing special just shua being very protective :) been finding it hard to get motivation to write lately so this is just something from the back of my brain. enjoy!!

“next rounds on you, jeonghan! i can hear my bank account crying from my pocket!!”

going out with the guys after an especially long string of promotions was the perfect way to blow off steam. they always chose the best, fanciest bars to occupy. plus, there was an added bonus that if coups gets drunk enough, you can convince him that he agreed to pay for the next round of shots.

after having a couple drinks that were definitely stronger than you anticipated, it was time for you to make your way to the restrooms. minghao stabilized you as you stood up and less than gracefully made your way to the other side of the room. when you got into the restroom, you stood and looked in the mirror. as the room spun around you, you realized that maybe your limit has diminished as you’d gotten older. you do your thing and head back out, making a stop at the bar first to get yourself a glass of water. at least drunk you was still capable of making somewhat rational decisions.

as you stood at the bar, you half fell over but caught yourself on the counter. a man walked around you, hooking his arm around your waist and holding you up. you didnt think twice, assuming it was one of the guys just helping you out. but, as you looked towards the table they were all sitting around, the only empty seat was your own. now you’re filled with confusion and discomfort. you try to pull yourself away but the man tightens his grip on your side. 

“now now, we both know you’re not as stable as you think you are.”

you try to make your voice as stable as possible as you make an attempt at pushing him away or getting someones attention, whichever you can manage first.

“im fine, please let me go.”

the man leans closer until you hear a voice from his opposite side whichs makes his arms tense, but slightly release you at the same time.

“babe, everything ok?”

joshua?

“not really..”

joshua steps closer to the man who has now completely let go of your waist. he lowers his tone and his voice becomes raspy and powerful as he speaks.

“i don’t want to sound like a douche or anything, but i can have you kicked out of here faster than you could leave on your own accord. so i would suggest that you make a decision before i have to.”

the man mutters apologies to shua as he steps back and hurriedly leaves the bar. at this point, you are completely depending on the counter to hold you up. shua puts a (much more welcoming) arm around you, making you feel secure. you lean into him with your head on his shoulder as the bartender comes over and shua asks him for a glass of water. the bartender hands him the glass as the two of you make your way back to the table. the guys shift down so you can take the seat next to joshua, and you sink into his side as he feeds you the glass of water.

at this point your night had been ruined, and the guys noticed that too. shua offers to take you home which you gladly accept. you both say goodbye to everyone as you head outside and find a bench to sit on while you wait for your taxi to show up. you babble into shua’s shoulder as he scrolls on his phone.

“thank you, shua.”

“hm?”

he put his phone in his pocket as he turns his full attention to you.

“thank you for getting that man to go away.”

“i knew you were uncomfortable, i just did what anyone else shouldve done.”

“but this is better.. cuz its you…” 

shua chuckles as he rubs your arm, making you snuggle further into his side. when the taxi comes, joshua practically carries you to the car. you settle in and he makes quiet small talk with the driver as you slowly fall asleep on his shoulder.

when you get to your apartment, you pass shua your keys and rub your eyes while he unlocks the door and ushers you inside. he picks out your pajamas as you sit on your bed, watching his every move. he passes you your clothes as he leaves the room to let you get dressed.

you call out for him to come back in when youre in your pajamas, and he passes you another glass of water. you groan but he laughs as you take the glass anyways. he grabs your makeup remover wipes from your bathroom and sits on your bed next to you, lifting your legs and moving you to face him. his hands are warm.

when you’re all ready for bed, you crawl under the covers and watch as he puts everything back in its place. he makes everything look beautiful, elegant. even the simplest of motions are incredible when it’s shua. he pulls out his phone to book another cab to his place, but you sit up half way in your bed.

“shu?”

“yeah?”

“maybe it’d be cheaper if you didn’t get a taxi tonight and i could take you home tomorrow?”

“are you suggesting i stay here tonight?”

you give him a pleading smile as you pull back the covers and he playfully rolls his eyes. most of the guys have left miscellaneous clothes items at your house from other occasions, so he digs through the drawer and finds some pajamas to change into. when he comes back into the room, you watch him again. beautiful. thats the only word to describe him.

he slides into the covers and smiles at you as he leans over you and turns off the lamp on your bedside table. the night fades away, as you both fall asleep after mumbled ‘goodnight’s into the dark. 

when you wake up, the bed is empty. you stumble out of bed, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in the right side of your head. the smell of breakfast enters your nose, as you get to the kitchen and see shua cooking at the stove. you walk to him and rest your cheek on his back. 

“good morning, party animal.”

his eyes are fond as he gestures to the counter behind the two of you, where he has two ibuprofen and a glass of water sitting out, ready for you. 

“another glass of water, ive never been so hydrated in my life.”

shua laughs.

“thats not a bad thing, is it?”

he walks towards you and looks into your eyes as you drink all the water and lay the glass down with a smile.

“no, not at all.”

[wandasmistress]

Trapped

Requests (2)- A bottom!Natasha x Reader where Natasha and the reader are heading to a mission spot and while they’re in the quinjet R is eating out and fingering Natasha + Bottom!Natasha x reader where they have sex on a mission

Synopsis- Steve shouldn’t have tricked you into going on missions causing Natasha to miss you dearly, but once you’re back for good there is always time to make up for what was lost.

Pairings- Bottom!Natasha Romanoff x Top!Reader

Warnings- 18+ Content, and Steve?

Word Count- 4k

A/N- I’ve been really inactive for the past few months but I feel that I have got my motivation back to write so hopefully I can start to put out more stories :)

➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

Your body was exhausted to stay the least, it was a mistake for you to sign up for quick missions, a big mistake. The need to always be in non-stop action to rid yourself of growing daily boredom was prominent within you. You didn’t mind all that much because doing missions was something to keep you in check and present in reality, besides one other thing.

Because of that other thing which is a special someone that you dreaded leaving for missions. Each time boarding a quinjet or black decked-out SUV there would be a sorrowful presence looming at the door of the compound’s exit, Natasha. 

When you weren’t on missions she was your constant light throughout your day because with her around you never got bored and always had a fire to keep you lit inside. When she left for a lengthy recon mission months prior you had to do something to keep you entertained for the time being. That happened to be quick missions Steve had encouraged you to sign up for when he saw your lack of life as you stared out the compound’s grand living room window that held a magnificent view of the surrounding wilderness that kept you entranced for the time being while your lover was away.

What Steve “forgot” to mention to you is that if you signed up for quick missions it would be official for eight months, let's just say you almost got into a fight with America’s most beloved. Once you signed with your signature you couldn’t take it back. At first, it was fine for the months when Natasha was gone, you had something to occupy and eat up your time, but when she came back it was a different story. 

You still had four months left on your contract and time seemed to slow down significantly, so to Natasha, it felt like an eternity. Every time she saw you off a piece of her inner happiness chipped away while uncertainty replaced its spot. She was filled with tremendous dread and loneliness during all the nights she spent without you. She longed for your touch every second of the day and especially at night, she yearned for your company so bad it was absurd. 

She had been pestering Steve about taking you off the quick missions but he ignored her advances and excused himself immediately so he wouldn’t receive her raft. Constantly following him around the compound to disrupt his day, in her eyes if she couldn’t get any sort of peace,  why should he? During all the time she had been pestering Steve, it was the end of the eight months; she couldn’t have been more delighted. She was like a kid at a candy store, only a few feet taller, tapping her foot repeatedly against the pavement as she waited to hear the familiar buzz of the incoming quinjet.

Her deep red tresses swayed from the sudden gush of air, a dark shadow cast upon her from the monumental aircraft. The shadow was a stark contrast to the fierce light that was present in her from the thought of finally being able to have you fully.

Stepping off the mechanical quinjet for the first time in hours made you relieved to breathe in the fresh air, smelling blended natural fragrances and a familiar perfume that you knew all too well. It was in a flash and then the next moment you were bombarded with Natasha’s presence. It was hard for you to hug her back with your duffle bags still in your hands but you wasted no time in dropping them and enveloping her in your arms.

She clung onto you as a sloth does to a cecropia tree, her head buried deep in your chest as she took time to fully embrace your presence. You understood her actions because the last time you spent a full day together was two months ago, who knew how many small missions there were out there to be completed.

Natasha brought her head out of your chest and peered up at you. Taking in your wondrous features that she admired staring at during the brink of the night when the moonlight shined just perfectly on your dormant face. She would study you for hours until she fell asleep in your comforting hold with only the thought of you there with her lulling her to sleep.

“Take a picture Nat, it last longer.” You say softly to Natasha as your hands naturally travel towards her hips to hold onto them.

“Oh, shut up.” She lightly chuckled as she gave a gentle slap to your shoulder, “I would take a picture of you but it could never truly capture your beauty.” Her words made your cheeks heat up along with the way she was intensely staring at your face.

“I can tell you missed me because that was cheesy as fuck, but don't worry I forgive you for that cause I missed you too.” She rolled her eyes while letting out a breathy laugh at your response as her hands trailed up your abdomen and around your neck.

She came close to your face causing your breaths to merge, you could practically smell the minty freshness on the cusp of her breath, “But ‘Take a picture it last longer’ isn’t it?” Your mind was too hazed with the thought of her lips on yours to fully understand what she was saying. Leaning forward to catch her lips only for her to back away at the last second making a frown come to your face.

“Such a big baby, don’t worry you're gonna make it up to me with more than just kisses for your absence.” She teases you as she pecks the corners of your mouth then continues to give small kisses all around your face but never your lips which slightly agitates you.

Although, not more than Steve coming to interrupt your moment with Natasha. She instantly got annoyed as he rounded the corner. A glint of sweat can be spotted on his face meaning he ran twenty miles non-stop. 

With a roll of her eyes, Natasha instantly stares down Steve as he walks up to you both, her arms now crossed over her rigid stomach.

Steve awkwardly greets the both of you with a skittish wave as he avoids Natasha’s fierce gaze.

You greet him back satisfactorily, putting your hand on the lower part of Nat’s back to wordlessly communicate with her to acknowledge Steve.

“Steve.” Natasha bluntly replies, showing no ounce of welcome in her tone.

“I hate to say this, but you both need to meet me in the debriefing room. Be there in the next ten minutes.” He says with a militant tone, fleeing towards the door of the compound straight after his assertion.

Natasha made a move to follow him but was stopped by the firm grip on her waist that held her back. When she turned around with lifted eyebrows she was met with your unimpressed face as you rolled your eyes at her abrasive antics.

“I’m off of those little pesky missions now, there's no need to hold any grudges. Help me put away my stuff, yeah?” You softly ask her, reducing your hold on her waist because you trusted her enough to not go after Steve to give him a mouthful.

She shook her head and gave you a small smirk, “Since when did you turn into a peacemaker?” She scoffs slightly in a mischievous manner as she starts striding off.

You give a light chuckle at her words but wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion at her retreating form, “You're not gonna help with my bags?”

She turns around while still strolling with a charming pout on her face and shouts, “My hands are kind of tired from all the stroking they have been doing since someone wasn’t here to do it for me!”

Your face runs cold as her coy pout turns into a naughty grin. You're stuck in a trance at her distant figure and you swear you can see her hips swaying more than they were a few seconds ago. You wasted no time in picking up your duffle bags and catching up with her, she always had a way with words that left you awestruck.

»

You and Natasha had just walked into the debriefing room Steve mentioned and the first thing your wondering eyes spotted was the brown box of your favorite, Dough Doughnuts. Treading straight towards the box of donuts as if your life depended on it; grabbing a plate from the table where the donuts were held to stack some of the pastries.

Helping yourself to multiple thick and doughy donuts put a bright smile on your face, “Help yourself, I got them for you, out of guilt.” Steve murmurs next to you rendering you to jump from the sudden surprise, managing to save your plateful of donuts as you turn towards him with a warm smile on your face.

You thank him genuinely, “although this won’t be enough for me to fully forgive you.” Your words cause him to take in a deep breath as you send him a shallow smile as you move around him and make your way to Natasha sitting at the immense oak oval table.

As you come closer to Nat she makes eye contact with you, her eyes broadening at your approaching figure. When you made it over she raised her right eyebrow as she eyed your plate stacked with donuts. By that time you had already started eating them on the walk over so when you spoke your mouth was full of mushed donuts.

“What? The last time I ate was hours ago.” You reasoned.

Natasha’s resting smirk only grew as she replied, “moya malen'kaya rybka fugu ”

You playfully narrowed your eyes as you took a seat behind her, quickly flashing your mouth full of mixed donuts only for her to swiftly pinch your stomach with a twisted grimace. Quietly chuckling to yourself as you got seated; Steve cleared his throat for both of your attention.

Just as he got attention to start speaking Natasha kicked up her feet on the deep oak conference table with a loud thud followed by a displeased sigh. You had to look away for a moment to contain your laughter, you had yet to ever see her be this petty towards Steve.

“I just wanted to start this meeting to say I never meant to have you sign up for the missions but no one else wanted to, and god knows the shield agents aren’t prepared enough for constant tasks like that. Leading to the point of this gathering, which is a final mission for you both.”

Natasha’s face turned into a passive expression that only Steve could see from his angle; a slight hesitation in his speech from the direct eye contact Natasha had with him.

“Don’t flip your lid Nat, this is a recon mission that should take less than a week. More of a getaway if you ask me, it’s in Madrid, I searched on that engine Googlet and their beaches are said to be nice during this time. The mission file is on the table, have fun ladies.” He declared before he left the room with a clasp of his hands.

There was a few seconds of brief silence until Natasha turned around in the twisty chair with her signature smirk ingrained on her face. She slowly arose from her position in her seat to saunter a few steps and rest herself on your awaiting lap. 

In between the mid-bite of a donut, you stared deep into her eyes, slowly moving the pastry away from your face to deliver a soft peck to her nose. Her face scrunching up in mock disgust as she pinched you on the cheek complaining about the sticky filling that now occupied her nose.

You couldn’t help but not take her words into account as you zoned her words out to only focus on the accentuating features that reeled you into her as a fisherman does to fish. The only thought on your mind was her ethereal beauty, not only did her outer beauty look so magnificent, her inner beauty was millions of times better. Cherishing the moments when her relaxed personality came out because of your presence; the way her face seemed to light up when you were near, and the way you found solace in her viridescent irises.

»

You were standing in the cockpit, leveling the controls of the quinjet to kickstart the autopilot mode so you could catch up on some sleep that you dearly missed. As you were focused on turning on the alarm to notice another aircraft in the air, turning on the radar, and checking safety controls caused you to fail to notice the slim figure approaching from behind.

Nat takes this moment why you are in mental solitude to absorb your features; your concentrated face making a knot deep within her start to ache. The way your hands are flexed across the controls, moving in practiced synchronization as if you could do it perfectly with your eyes closed. Also, the small barely noticeable scars littered across your arms and hands that she knows all the stories to you, courtesy of you telling them to her in the deepest of the night as her head lay on your bare chest when sleepiness was absent.

She came up behind you while you were slightly leaning on the controls, encircling her hands around your stomach, laying her cheek across the side of your back as she watched the view of the endless clouds. This is where she loved to be, anywhere with you, no matter the place.

When you felt her hands on your abdomen a sense of warmness spread throughout your body at just her touch; what she could make you feel in just a matter of seconds was a feeling you always loved.

There was a few moments of sereness that passed by before her face shifted away from the clear window to face your back.

“I really missed this.”

You let out a small chuckle, pivoting your head scarcely to the left so you could see her out of the corner of your eye. “I never knew you were so needy, babe.”

She slaps your back with her right arm at your tease which causes you to tremble away from her grip but eventually turn towards her, leaning back on the controls now so you were face to face. 

“Well you have been away to satisfy my needs, and I can only do so much.” She expressed softly with a playful angry expression on her face as she stands on her toes to connect both your lips once and for all.

The laughter within your stomach automatically ceases as her plump lips come in contact with yours, being substituted with a desire. Your hands were quick to move up to her hips and gradually down to her plump bottom, giving a gentle squeezing. 

A soft moan discharged from her closed throat at the pressure that was so close to where she needed you to be. Her lips miraculously worked with yours in an erotic dance as the force of the kisses made each of your heads move back and forth. Her hands unhurriedly came up to your firm stomach for balance, her hands skimming over your clothed breast which made a groan escape between your parted lips as you came out of the kiss for air.

No words were uttered as you wordlessly looked into her eyes for the next few seconds, her dilated pupils and the salacious look that resounded within her darkening orbs made you dive in for more of what you so badly dreamed for.

Your hands left the position on her lower half to quickly cup her face and bring her closer while her soft tongue pressed against the entrance of your lips for admission to your tongue. Bestowing her access by parting your lips, your tongues clashed together in simultaneous congruence. A deprived moan came from the pit of her throat from the way your mouth deliciously sucked on her tongue. That eruption from deep within her vocal cords was the moment something clicked on inside of you to grant her real satisfaction.

You swiftly picked her up by the rear and carelessly sat her down on top of the controls, damn the quinjet because if you go down this would be a gratifying last moment of your life. While still retaining a steady pace of indulging in Natasha’s succulent lips, your hurried hands tugged at the hem of her leggings. She snickered as she caught onto your intentions and lifted her bottom so you could quickly pull her lower garments off. 

Greedy fingers instantly met Natasha’s clothed cunt moments after her leggings had been moved and forgotten by her ankles. You took your middle and pointer fingers together and rubbed them against her clothed protruding clit. Provoking a loud moan from her; your breaths integrating from the brisk withdrawal by both of your damp lips. Her right hand presently snaked up the back of your neck while her left hand rested on your shoulder; making eye contact with her as you devoted more pressure on her clothed clit, her pupil now a tiny black speck in the sea of inveigle basil green. 

Her eyes squeezed shut as they rolled back while her mouth hung open and twitched from the constant motion happening right where she needed you to be, her head inclining forward as you pressed harder. Your sweaty foreheads came together for only a moment until you shifted your head to start sending temperate but firm kisses along her face and later neck.

You had enough of taunting her, wanting to feel her needy opening sucking up your digits. Impatiently pushing aside her lacey panties as you were met with a beyond moist sticky cunt; quick to find her clit and begin irritating it for more pressure. 

Natasha’s celestial moans and faltering sighs filled the quinjet's advanced space, luckily it was just you two, or else things would have been inconvenient. Although your fingers did not just stop at rubbing her clit, too eager you wait not one more second and plunged them straight into her opening. A coarse protracted whine came from her hushed mouth, as her face rested on your shoulder she took the opportunity to bite down to help with the influx of pleasure she acquired in such little time. 

This didn’t deter you as you only started to pump your digits quicker, the only sound echoing throughout the aircraft was your low grunts now and then, Natasha’s moans that began to sound more like yearning cries, and her pussy making various squelching noises that rang like music to your ears as you continued to hammer into her.

It didn’t take long before that tight knot within her stomach that had been itching badly inside of her, in demand to be undone, finally erupted. When that knot flared deep in the pit of Natasha’s stomach that’s when a real guttural whine escaped from her lips. You knew she was quite the verbal person in intimate situations like this, but the moan that was unleashed from her sounded extra-terrestrial, an almost jarring roar that was brought out from a hidden place inside her.

You weren’t close to being done yet, the second you remove your fingers from her center a tired objection came from her heavy breathing mouth. Her muddled head leaned back until her heavy eyes looked upon your face, her creased eyebrows hinted to her examining your sudden action to stop. Before she could let out a weak protest you stuck your soaked fingers that had just been buried inside her past her plump lips and flat onto her unexpectant tongue.

She sucked her juices from your fingers slowly in a seductive manner as she kept eye contact with you; your knot within starting to beg for release just from the way her pristine lips grasped around your digits and slowly slid down the expanse of your fingers. When she popped the fingers out of her mouth you immediately brought them up to your lips to get a taste, unknowingly to you Nat’s eyes hazily watching the movement of your hands and the way you searched for any leftover taste of her on your fingers only for it all to be gone.

In a matter of seconds, your lips instantly met Natasha’s again, causing a groan to leave her from the force of roughness. In your little plan, you had found what you were looking for, but there was still some leftover taste of Nat scattered on her tongue. A deep moan set free from her drowsy self at the feeling of you sucking her tongue harshly. She brought her head away from yours slowly, a string of mixed saliva drooping between your faces as both your lustful eyes stared deep into one another's souls.

“There’s more where that came from.” She uttered in a husky voice.

After dispatching another quick peck to her lips, you sank to the ground in an instant. Your knees collided against the hard steel just as Natasha had spread her legs open, wide enough for you to have full sight of her exalted pussy that could never be replicated. Natasha took her bottom lip in between her teeth and smirked from the way you were taking time to adore her bare cunt as if she hadn’t told you to continue the vulgar actions that you were performing moments earlier.

It didn’t take you any longer to get back into the swing of things as your face merged into her sodden cunt, her thighs encompassing your head as her radiant smell plagued your sense as you took a deep breath in. Sticking your deprived tongue out from behind your lips that were submerged in her center, licking an elongated vertical line up her center. Her shivering that knocked you off your course made you resort to wrapping your hands around her outer thighs to keep her in place, talking into her pussy which sent a thundered hum attack her clit which stimulated her so much that she bucked and whined like a lost wolf that has strayed from its pack.

Her body shuddered from your attempted talking inducing numerous buttons on the control deck to be pressed while some switches flicked on and off. Your grip on her thighs constricted to ensure she changed no controls that would cause the quinjet to plummet to the ground instantaneously. Even with a slight chance of crashing, you stretched your hungry tongue past her entrance, and as deep as your face would let you without suffocating, making this another satisfying moment to go out. 

Your tongue wriggled back and forth inside of Natasha, numerous times pressing on the bundle of nerves that made her go crazy each time you hit it just right. Natasha needed something to hold onto as the knot in her came undone even more each second, her pale fingers sliding in between your locks and barring onto the roots. You hissed slightly from the tugging she would do every few seconds from hitting her g-spot now and then. That didn’t hold you back from going deeper as her taste was so addicting, her juices being like holy ale sent down from above just for you only, sacred nectar that could never be found anywhere on the earth no matter how hard you searched. 

Ultimately getting lost in the tempo and taste of Natasha brought her to another orgasm that struck her harder than last time tenfold, you were always so proficient with your tongue that she could never get enough. This time no sound was emitted from her opened mouth, only a sound of strangulation as she failed to take in air. Her tense chest heaved in and out as she got a hold of her breath but was still moments into seeing the stars. That was all muffled for you because she had you interlocked tightly within her pale plush thighs, her juices drenching your face as her cum oozed out from within her. You were entrapped, and truthfully, you don’t think you want to leave just yet.

»

[aranarumei]

What do we thing of the few and far between Niibashi and Hirano interactions?

[ask me about any two ssmy charas and i'll give my thoughts on their dynamic, real or imagined]

he’s so relatable. If I knew my friend was crushing on someone I’d already feel weird meeting them. if I knew the extent of the wildness of hirano to kagiura I would be unable to function normally. niibashi’s a trooper.

so basically I think he’s overly conscious of hirano! which is kind of neat because he usually seems like a guy who’s like. blunt and self-assured and cool. it’s hard for him bc kagiura talks about hirano SO MUCH, so he’s got this whole perception of a guy that he doesn’t know, and he’s aware its colored in some sense, but he also doesn’t know exactly what hirano’s truth is. and that’s confusing for him because I think he’s got a sense of responsibility of like. I must not let kagi get caught up in daydreams. 1) he’ll get hurt and 2) they’re roommates and that could get so badly complicated, so let’s make sure hirano’s comfortable. but a lot of that second point is also motivated by like. kagiura likes him SO MUCH, I’ve got to treat him well. a biased self-interest towards wanting kagi to be. successful / happy etc. what a wonderful friend he is.

but because of this Awareness, there’s also a sense of embarrassment and avoidance. it’s almost like. if I met a celebrity I’d talked about I’d get so embarrassed like. HELLO. You’re not supposed to know me!!! let me analyze your thing in peace. I’m not for you to look at. You see this when niibashi jolts at hirano’s presence and then gets the hell out of there after giving him the sewing kit—he’s cheering on kagiura, but also he doesn’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole bc it feels weird to intrude on their space? third-wheeling is awkward. I mean u see this in ch 24 when kagiura runs off and niibashis like DON’T LEAVE ME HERE??? in his head and then hirano also steps out and he’s like what the fuck do I do. I’m not gonna start up conversation w/ whoever this guy (sasaki) is. and then he just heads to the gym. speaking of, there’s a bit there where he sees hirano scolding sasaki and is like. THIS is the “super kind” hirano-san? guy was probably envisioning a blond angel at first so I think that adjustment to reality is messing with him.  

so if they interacted For Real, I think at first it would be hard and awkward bc niibashi would be put off-kilter by KAGI’S HUGE CRUSH hanging over them (basically the current state of affairs). after kagihira couple up though. I think niibashi would say something like “you guys are so annoying” and then get extremely embarrassed that he did that in front of hirano. bc its normal to nag at kagiura like that but not so normal to do that with a senpai. he’d be the type of guy who’d wanna be careful around hirano and then get embarrassed if he was naturally harsh or blunt in the kind way he is. and that wanting to be careful makes him unsettled. probably with enough time he would get comfortable, but I don’t think he & hirano have like… similar interests or demeanors, so I don’t really think anything like “oh my boyfriend is better friends w/ my friend than I am” would happen? still, at the end of the day they’re both thoughtful people who love kagiura. they’ll do fine.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.5 Sakamaki Laito Animate Tokuten CD

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol. 5 逆巻ライト アニメイト 各巻購入特典ドラ

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 5 Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Hirakawa Daisuke 

Translator’s note: Bowling master Laito kind of threw me for a loop, but it also makes sense? Like he strikes me as the type of guy who would be unexpected skilled at a bunch of random things. In general, I’ve been really enjoying these ‘date scenario’ CDs. They actually did a good job making every one of them unique and choosing fun locations for each boy. I know the chances of us getting another DL anime are really slim, but if they do decide to make one, I really hope it’s not a season 3 based on DF or LE but a bunch of OVAs instead based on the drama CDs.

“...What’s this? There’s quite a lot of people here despite it being so late at night. I guess bowling is pretty popular. I thought I’d be able to do all sorts of fun things with my Bitch-chan, such a shame! ーー Ah! Our lane is over here. Ah! Check out the monitor over there! It actually displays our names as ‘Laito’ and ‘Bitch’! I love your name. It really stands out amongst the others! I would have loved to be able to input ‘Bitch-chan’ instead, honestly. I felt pretty bummed when they told me that I could only input up to five characters. Right, Bitch-chan?”

You frown. 

“...? You’ve been quiet this whole time. What’s wrong? Did you want me to add the ‘-chan’ as well?”

You shake your head.

“Then what’s the matter?”

You complain about him wanting to come here. 

“Eeh~? Is it really that strange? Even I feel like playing a game of bowling every now and then. There’s no ulterior motive behind it!”

You squint your eyes. 

“Oh dear. You’re still suspicious of me? ...Fine. I’ll fess up the truth. ーー We actually gave here today because I wanted to do you a favor.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Mmh. We’re usually active at night, so most places where high schoolers like to hang out are closed by that hour, no? So we’re limited in the things we can do, right? Well, you might be fine with that, but you’re still a blossoming high school girl, so I figured that you might fantasize about the kind of cute dates depicted in shoujo manga and such. ーー I thought it wouldn’t hurt to go on a typical high schoolers’ date for once, so I started looking around for places which are open 24/7, which brings us here today. How’s that? Do you understand now?”

You nod.

“Nfu~ I’m glad. With that misunderstanding lifted...Now that we’re here anyway, why don’t we get started? I’m up first, aren’t I? Let me think...Which ball should I pick? ーー Ah. This one will do.”

*Thud* 

“It has the same color as your hair. I’ll throw it as hard as I can, imagining its your head instead~”

You protest.

“Nfu~ Oh come on, you may say that, but I know you’re happy deep down! You love to get pushed around by me, don’t you? ...Ah! When it’s your turn, why don’t you pick a ball in the same color as my hair? I don’t dislike the idea of being at your mercy either~”

You refuse. 

“Geez...You’d be able to get so much more of of life if you just enjoy it as one of many fetishes. You’re so easily embarrassed. Fine. ...I’ll throw the ball, okay?”

Laito faces towards the lane.

“Let me think...I’m supposed to throw it leaning down...or from up top? 

You seem surprised he has never bowled before. 

“Eh!? Bitch-chan...Do you really think I’ve come to this sorta place before? Today’s obviously my first bowling experience!”

*Rustle*

“But don’t worry! Experience isn’t what matters...It’s all about chemistry...!”

Laito throws his ball.

*Clatter clatter*

“Huh? I knocked all of them over. Is this what you’d call a ‘strike’?”

You seem very impressed.

“...Nfu~ I got praised~ Anyway, is this really so amazing?”

You nod.

“Heeh...I wonder if I am a natural at bowling? Control is key, so it might be the perfect game some someone who is very technique-minded such as myself. In that case, I’m quite curious what you are capable of, Bitch-chan~”

You frown.

“Now, now, no need to be so modest. Show me what you’re made of. Go give it a shot! ...Nfu~ I’m very much looking forward to this.”

You walk towards the lane.

“Break a leg, Bitch-chan~! Throw it with everything you’ve got!” 

You throw the ball. 

*Thud thud* 

“Nfu~ Ah-ahー I guess the excitement ended up being her downfall. What a shame. ...They call this a ‘gutter’, don’t they? I can’t believe you didn’t even manage to knock over one of them. ...Ah, come on. One more try, no?”

*Thud* 

You try once more.

*THUD*

“Ahー You really suck at this, don’t you?”

You seem disappointed.

“No need to be so sad. My strike might have been just a fluke. I’ll go next, so watch me, okay?”

Laito walks up to the lane again. 

“...Hah!”

*CLATTER*

“Aah~ I guess it wasn’t just beginner’s luck! I might have a knack for bowling after all! ...In that case, Bitch-chan, why don’t you come over here with your ball?”

You pick up your ball and approach him.

“Okay! Let’s practice how to hold the ball!”

*Rustle*

“Geez, no need to be so surprised. We came here to treat you to a good time today, so I’ll teach you very gently~ Come on, hold the ball.”

*Rustle*

“Hmー That won’t do.”

*Rustle rustle*

“You need to stretch your arm a little more.”

You try to scoot away from him, asking why he is touching you.

“What are you saying? I’m fixing your posture! I think I proved earlier that my bowling skills far exceed yours, so don’t you think it’s in your best interest to take my advice?” 

You frown.

“I mean, it’d be kind of difficult to tell you what to do without clinging to you like this, is it? I’m positive that it’d be so much easier to teach you good posture through direct touch!”

*Rustle*

“Come on, lean back against me and stand straight.”

*Rustle*

“Don’t move! You want to be able to throw the ball properly don’t you?”

You tell him to move away. 

“How mean, telling me to back off! I’m only trying to show my good heart by teaching you! I mean, if you lose this duel against me, you’ll get punished, remember?”

You seem surprised by that. 

“I mean, duh? Didn’t I tell you? All games have some kind of punishment game attached to it, don’t they? You have to expect those kind of things! By the way, now that you’ve already thrown once, you’re part of the game, so there’s no backing out~”

You ask him if he would punish you right here in public.

“Fufu~ Why would you ask that? ーー I get it. You’re curious about what this punishment would entail, aren’t you~? Were you perhaps hoping that I’d suck your blood~?”

You deny it.

“Nfu~ No point in trying to deny it~ I bet you imagined my fangs sinking deeply into your fair nape, didn’t you? Aah~ I suppose I have no other choice. That wasn’t the plan, but I’ll live up to your expectations and make the punishment something deliciously painful~ Please look forward to this punishment...which will turn both your body and soul to putty~”

You try to make a run for it.

*Rustle rustle* 

“Ahaha~ Oh come on, hold up! I told you that there’s no way out, didn’t you? You better behave...or I’ll do it right here, right now.”

You immediately stop resisting. 

“Nfu~ Good girl. Besides, there’s only a 50% chance that you’ll get punished, so just remember that you could always win and try to make the best out of it!”

You sigh in defeat.

“Well then, let’s continue your lesson. Now, where’s your spine?”

*Rustle*

“Nfu~ Found it~ Mm~

*Rustle rustle* 

“What are you saying? I’m helping you straighten your back! By tracing my fingers across your spine like this...See? You pushed out your chest which improved your stance! Try to hold this proper posture, okay?”

You ask him if he knows what hte proper posture for bowling is.

“Eh? No idea! How am I supposed to know what is the ‘right posture’ for bowling when I’m still a newbie at the game myself.”

You ask him what he has been teaching you then. 

“You’re just so terrible at this, I’ve just been giving you random points and then it was up to you whether or not you’d take my words for granted. ...Anyway, ahaha~ They’re really hard to miss when you’re standing looking straight ahead like that.”

You tilt your head to side.

“Over here. These bite marks on・your・neck~”

You squeak.

“They’re the proof of the love we share with each other every night~ It’s too bad you can’t really see them unless you move this close. I promise I’ll make them stand out even more by biting you nice and hard when we get back home, so rest assured~”

You complain. 

“You’re adorable when you pretend to dislike something. However, no losing on purpose because you want to get bitten ,okay?”

You insist that you would never do that. 

“I wonder~? You’re a naughty girl who seduces other by feigning discomfort. You want me to completely overpower you, run away with the victory and inflict pain upon you as a result, don’t you? And then you’d try to play innocent by saying ‘Oh I don’t actually want this, but it can’t be helped because I lost the game~', won’t you? ...Sure. Two can play that game. I like that sort of thing as well after all. I’ll make sure to slowly drive you into a corner...and then tease the living hell out・of・you~”

Your cheeks grow hot.

“Oh? What’s wrong? ...Nfu~ You’re flustered, aren’t you? Oh come, you are so shy~ ...Anyway, let’s get this game going! Try throwing the ball following my tips from earlier.”

You nod and throw the ball. 

*CLATTER CLATTER*

“Wow~ You actually knocked them all over! I’m shocked!” 

You rejoice.

“Nfu~ Congratulations, Bitch-chan. Judging from your sheer excitement, could it be that this is the first time you’ve ever hit a strike?”

You nod.

“Mmh, mmh~ I’m happy for you! In that case, why don’t we end on a positive note and wrap up the match right here? It’s obvious you’ll lose after all.”

You protest.

“I mean, even if continue to bowl one strike after the other now, you already threw a gutter once, so you have no chance at getting ahead of me.There’s no way I’d give away the win now.”

You shake your head. 

“Ah~ We can keep going until I have a slip-up if you want, but in return, your punishment will get more and more severe, the longer the game lasts. I believe you’d be much better off admitting defeat right now and simply heading home with me. 

I’m fine with either scenario. We’re here on a date today for you after all. You can choose whether you want to call it a day right now and quickly get your punishment, or if you’d rather have me tend to you thoroughly after I’ve messed with you a little longer.”

You call him out on being unreasonable. 

“Nfu~ Exactly. I might be messed up. But you love this crazy guy, don’t you? In which case, you have no other choice but to play along with me and slowly become insane as well.”

You sigh.

“Fufu~ Since you sighed in defeat, does that mean you’ve made your choice?”

You choose to go home. 

“Nfu~ Sure. As you wish. Well then...Shall we head home, Bitch-chan~? I’ll treat you to plenty of the good stuff which you love oh-so much~”

ーー THE END ーー

[aingeal98]

Y'know this is a really broad question and (since I know you're more of a Cass/stephcass kinda person) potentially out of your wheelhouse but I enjoy your perspective on lots of Steph related matters, so indulge me if you will: any thoughts on the argument that timsteph is/isn't 'unhealthy' and/or the characters are unfair to each other/bad partners?

Lots of qualifying clauses in that question, I know, but it's interesting to me because I usually see a lot of staunch arguments that either timsteph is completely/irreparably unhealthy (usually with one half as more of a 'perpetrator' in the eyes of fans) OR that timsteph is exclusively a great romance and that their various ups and downs are either inconsequential or the result of OOC writing.

I think the question is mostly interesting to me bc I see both sides of the argument and to me it raises questions about when things cross the line from "a fictional relationship we're meant to root for that simply contains elements of heightened drama which would be considered unhealthy IRL due to it's fictional nature which we're meant to excuse/suspend disbelief for" to "a fictional reflection of unhealthy dynamics".

This is a lot of yap on my part so again, no hard feelings if you decide to pass up tackling it.

Really good question that I had to think hard about. Ultimately the answer depends on if you mean they're unhealthy in universe vs out of universe, Watsonian vs Doyalist. I'm going to stick to pre N52 only as I think from N52 onwards they were... Fine? But kind of bland. The writers had erased all of Steph's backstory anyway so they had none of their history and were just kind of... Normal dating. But pre N52 in the 90s and 00s is where the unhealthiness is at its peak so that's where most of the discourse comes from.

So in universe I think both of them make mistakes and have certain attitudes and behaviours that could be deal breakers for some people, ie Tim's cheating and how he follows Bruce's footsteps dismissing Steph, and how Steph will sometimes overstep some boundaries because Dixon wanted to write the spunky bad girl pursuing the sensible chaste guy. But ultimately in universe there's nothing so bad that I'd write their entire relationship off as unhealthy, at least not before War Games. They had good moments and bad, and whether you think the good outweighed the bad or vice versa really comes down to what you personally can forgive and understand in a relationship and what you enjoy seeing in fictional romances. So Tim's cheating was an immediate red line for me even though I never thought him evil for it, just kind of dumb. And I'd understand if people still shipped them and thought them sweet despite that. So like, they have their unhealthy moments but I'd be wary of going to either extreme aka "Toxic and evil" or "perfect soulmates who's mistakes were ooc"

This is their pre war games versions I'm referring to. After War Games when Steph came back the writer for Robin basically used her as a tool to give Tim angst and show how cool he was. It's the worst Steph's ever been to Tim but it was also so poorly written and clearly biased thay even from an in universe perspective I can't take it seriously. Everything pre war games I wouldn't count as ooc but this... Yeah this deserves the extreme. It's not even "She wouldn't do that." it's more "Why are you not showing us why she's doing this. How am I meant to accept this when her motivations and characterization is so poorly written." It's like a lesser version of when writers lazily butcher Talia to benefit Bruce or Damian. There's no explanation or motivation for Steph's actions that make any sense, so I have zero interest in that version of Steph because she's even more of a prop for Tim than she was during war games, which was an incredibly disappointing way to bring her back and one of the reasons I'm very glad she got her own batgirl run.

Which brings me to out of universe. Because while in universe I'd hesitate to slap the unhealthy label on them the way I would on say, versions of Bruce that hit his kids (I think there is a big difference between the unhealthiness of timsteph and the writing of Batman as an abusive father, and I think Bruce's dynamic with his kids crossed the line from dramatic to unacceptable and toxic a lot more frequently and more extremely than timsteph did) out of universe looking at them from a perspective of how it benefits their characters I would say it's super unhealthy for Steph. Which is ironic because her romance with Tim and her featuring in his comics is how she became a constant character, but the writing is always trying to remind us that Tim is better than Steph, more heroic than Steph, more suitable for this life than Steph. Only the writing is so bad that, like with a lot of Tim's writing, the proof comes down to "Because Batman said so idk."

And that culminates in the failure that is War Games. Steph becoming Robin is all about getting Tim back. Both in universe as Bruce's motivation and in reality as the writers plan. While Steph is being tortured horribly Tim is helping is classmates as a civilian, and the writing hammers us over the head about how capable and competent and perfect Tim is to the point that I felt nauseous reading it because it felt like such a disgusting way to uplift him. And then when Steph comes back, she's not allowed have any actual emotions or feelings about what happened to her. The writers just throw her into a dumb Tim and Bruce plot without any care about how she would actually think and feel, and the same happens in Red Robin. It's all Tim Tim Tim and only her Batgirl series and her reaction to Bruce being alive actually allow her to be shown as a person and not just a prop to uplift Tim.

So basically in universe they're not my cup of tea but they're not like, abusive or anything. They're just shitty to each other sometimes, but they love each other and have their good moments pre war games. From a Doylist perspective though? I've yet to see timsteph written in a way that actually uplifts Steph's character, as even when she's written by someone who likes her and wants to keep her around such as Dixon there's just so much misogyny in how their dynamic is written. So I'm hoping they never get back together and just stay exes with a past so painful and complicated they don't want to talk about it with anyone, but especially not each other.

Thanks for the ask! I hope this made sense lmao I rambled a whole lot

[wonijin]

HOTSHOT (R U NEXT/READER)

survival shows are hard as it is. why must you make it more complicated for yourself and entangle intense feelings with vulnerable emotions. but it wasn't your fault, they fell prey to you one by one, all by themselves. maybe you weren't the fool in this mess after all.

TAGS: 3.3k words. series. chapter one. mostly fluff and angst with a little spiciness. reader is very gay and get girls left and right. "everybody falls for y/n" type of fic. reader is also a walking red flag.

WARNINGS: the setting is a survival show so its bound to have kinda depressing themes.

“when will we have female idols as special coaches. i’ll be so motivated if somebody like newjeans minji coaches me,” you voiced as you plop down at the staircase.

the trainees assume their places at the foot of the staircase forming three rows. it was only a matter of time until you get called one by one to come through the orange curtain and pick; vocal or dance.

you sit between jiwoo and jeemin. the latter intertwining your arms, as she lights the room up with her smile. both of them looking at you as you confess your wishful thoughts.

“why would you want someone pretty when you already have me,” jiwoo asks, sending her sharp gaze to you. she raise an eyebrow and you look away, swallowing your saliva.

these kinds of comments from her were nothing new. you should’ve been used to it by now but you find yourself loss for words each time. she’s always been the type to blurt out these kind of comments without thinking of the implication. maybe she does and she just fakes innocence to not deal with the consequences.

before you could rack your malfunctioning brain for a verbal reply, jeemin saved you the trouble and changed the topic. “what will you guys pick? i’m leaning towards dance.”

“you’ll do great in dance. for me, i’m gonna be safe and pick vocal,” jiwoo answered. “what about you?” she added, looping her arms around yours. the sudden proximity would’ve been fine any other time but her remark earlier kept you on your toes.

“me? i don’t really have much of a choice, you know,” you say, pointing to your grey badge with a huge silver “L”. low levels don’t get to choose, they only get the higher level trainees’ leftovers. cruel but you were confident in your abilities to stay afloat whichever category landed at your feet.

“you’re so dramatic. there’s only two options, im sure you’ll get to choose,” jiwoo reassures you after giggling at your antics.

“choose dance so we can be on the same team,” jeemin clutch your arms tighter and starts to shake it lightly as if it would persuade you.

“or i could end up competing against you. no, thank you,” you pull your away from her grasp only to reconnect your hands together.

jeemin pouts in return and your stomach clench looking at her. somewhere deep inside you had the urge to kiss it away. which you find weird because why would you want to kiss your friend. yes, she’s cute. but why would you want to do that. friends don’t do that.

before you get swallowed by your thoughts you hear jeemin’s name get called. it was time for her to choose. she gave your hand one last squeeze before bidding both you and jiwoo good lucks and good byes.

“choose vocals,” jiwoo whispers next to you after a few seconds.

jiwoo is always the type to be assertive but never aggressive. she’ll always be commanding but leave just enough room for you to pull away if you want to. but you don’t think you ever will. you like that side of her. and its son jiwoo, only fools dare to refuse her.

“i don’t know, maybe,” you whisper back playfully, keeping your head faced forward while you still feel jiwoo’s gaze on the side of your head.

jiwoo scooches closer and nudges her head onto your shoulder. to the untrained eye, it must’ve looked like jiwoo’s just clinging onto you. well, its technically right but something in you screams that its not just simple ‘clinginess’. “come on. wouldn’t you like to be teams with me? it’ll be fun.”

you would’ve answered. although, you didn’t know what but you would’ve blurted out. but before you could open your mouth, jiwoo’s name echoed throughout the lobby. saved by the bell, again.

“well, i’ll see you on the same team,” she flashes a smile before walking away.

waiting patiently for your turn, you chat idly with the other trainees to pass the time.

you pull the orange curtain back to reveal the girls in lines. jeemin’s eyes caught yours and give her a smile. the girl in front of her, jihyun, noticed the interaction and waved. you mimicked before walking toward the board containing different stickers. two for dance and vocal each. one of the two vocal badges was for a leader position.

you look behind you to see who’re the other leaders. almost immediately, your scanning gaze locked onto jiwoo’s, as if she was waiting for you to turn around just so she can meet your eyes.

the eye contact lasted for a split second before you turned around and grab the vocal position. the normal one, without the leader position.

jiwoo stands in front with yunah and jeongeun next to her. on her farthest left is yewon, another leader.

you stand in a line together with the other trainees who chose the same category as you, waiting for your name to get called by either of the two. beside you is wonhee and seoyeon. suddenly, anxiousness plagues your insides as you realize you’d be either in the same team as them or end up competing against them.

“so, jiwoo its your turn to pick next. who will it be?”

your eyes avoided jiwoo. you were afraid that desperation would be seen as plain as day on your face and holding eye contact with her would solidify that.

so you turn your attention to the person in front of you. which happened to be minju. her face morphs into confusion at your sudden focus in her. you only smile and minju furrows her eyes in turn. the action only made your smile wider, ‘how cute’.

“y/n.”

jiwoo’s voice broke both you and minju out of your trance. and it took you a second to understand that jiwoo wants you on her team. you look back at jiwoo to meet her unreadable face, her gaze going from minju to you.

“you looked worried there for a second,” yunah teases you as soon as you joined her and jeongeun, putting her arm around your shoulder comfortably.

“as if we’d pass up the chance to be with you,” she adds as she pinches your cheeks with her free hand.

“although, it looked to me you wanted to be with minju more” jeongeun added, joining in and putting her arms around you as well. while her other arm punches your stomach lightly.

“shut up,” you say, laughing at their teasing.

it has been a few days since practice started and your group has been going through some hiccups. well, its mostly yunah.

“yunah, you can tell me whats wrong. im here for you,” jiwoo’s words were nothing but soft and comforting. you were about to reach your friend when jiwoo’s eyes flicker to yours. ‘i’ll handle this.’

jeongeun and wonhee had already moved out to their own corner to continue practicing. you refused to leave yunah alone but jiwoo’s hard stare says all you need to know.

let the leader do her thing.

so, you distance yourself from the pair and roam your eyes around the practice room to look for something to do. you could use the time to practice, yes. but you’re sure that you would bury yourself six feet under the ground if you hear the song one more time.

the empty water dispenser gleamed at your search, the perfect opportunity to do something different. you walked towards it, detached the empty gallon and put it over your shoulder.

you left the practice room, heading to the cafeteria where they store the refills.

that is when hyewon saw your silhoutte from outside their practice room and called out your name. “y/n! what are you doing?”

“im getting refills,” you enter their practice room with ease, “bang!” blaring through the speakers yet nobody was really practicing. they were all doing their own thing, scattered across the vast room.

“great timing!” hyewon exclaims as she walks towards their own water dispenser. just like the one in your practice room, it was empty of any water.

“here! fill ours too,” she smiles at you brightly, her eyes twinkling in mischief. suddenly, her soft hands grips yours, the thin veil of sweat clinging on to you. she opens your palms and put the neck of the gallon there.

“what? no! you fill it up! its yours!” you exclaims as you take her hands and forcefully shove the gallon back in her grasps.

“come on. do me a little favor, won’t y-”

a cough intervenes hyewon’s pleading and forceful words. you turn around to see youngseo, who’s already boring her fiery eyes through your soul. then, her eyes travels to you and hyewon’s intertwined hands.

just like opposite magnets, both of you retreated your hands quickly causing the gallon to fall into the floor with a thud. you and hyewon both wince at the sound but youngseo however did not flinch.

instead, her gaze remained hot towards you. “i’ll be coming with you,” she says softly with her underlying firmness. her voice was always like that, sweet and subtly strong.

how you missed it. when was the last time she addressed you directly again?

“you don’t have to, i’ll be fine alone,” you convince her. it has been a long time since you both spoke to each other. truthfully, you weren’t ready to face her yet. its been too long and you have forgotten what being around her is like.

“no. i want to,” her firmness surfaced through her small voice. you decide that its really not up for debate. when youngseo has made up her mind, it’ll be hard to break her resolve. what youngseo wants, youngseo gets.

maybe remembering the feelibg of her company isn’t bad at all.

you watch as she picks up the gallon from the floor and head towards the door, you follow her until you were both walking in the hallway, side by side.

youngseo didn’t talk. as much as you wanted for her to say something, you knew she wouldn’t open her mouth unless it was to reply to something you said. or so you thought.

“how’s practice coming along?” her question puts an end to your thoughts. if you weren’t surprised by her accompanying you before, you were now that she was actually speaking to you.

“we’re…” you paused, thinking of the right words. choosing the right words carefully, you didn’t want to come across as overconfident. “we’re moving along, i guess”

you see her nod lightly in you peripheral vision. your eyes find the floor. there was so much you both needed to talk about. yet you were talking about practice.

“im happy you chose the vocal team. the world needs to hear your voice more,” youngseo’s voice flew like water against the air, natural and unwavering.

you snapped your head towards her and she turn hers just in time to catch the surprise look in yours, like she knew you were going to look at her.

it was the first time you’ve actually held eye contact after a long time. you drink in the familiarity you’ve lost and among it are a thousand words you can’t decipher. something flicker in her face before she breaks the stare.

“yeah, i just feel like i’ve been branding myself too much to dance lately,” you say, knowing it would end the conversation. a test to see if youngseo will surprise you again and start a new one.

but she didn’t. and the whole walk continued in awkward silence. so many unsaid words hanging in the air, the burden getting heavier each step closer to her practice room.

‘look, how about we just forget everything and start over?’

'we both know it won't work'

the past looms over both of you like dark shadows and you both know it. yet, youngseo did make any move to open the skeleton in your shared closet.

'let's talk, youngseo. you can’t keep ignoring me forever’

‘im sorry, i just need more time’

she’s ignoring it so why shouldn’t you. if someone’s going to peel the scab, it wouldn’t be you. you already did your part. a long time ago.

'i need space.'

‘you already got your space, youngseo. what about me? it's been months. if you've found peace then let me find mine!'

before you knew it, the door to her practice room is in sight. a part of you felt relieved to finally be free from her presence, while another part was longing to be with her a little longer.

youngseo stands beside it, holding the doorknob with one hand. she smiles at you sweetly. then waves at you lightly, “i’ll see you soon! good luck on your practice!”

the thoughts come pouring in as the door shuts in front of you. she was gone like she had never been there. you would’ve wondered if the last few moments were real if it weren’t for her voice replaying vividly on your mind. just like a melody you can’t get enough of.

just like that, you find yourself getting stuck in her web. again.

the following days went by quickly. but youngseo never once left your mind. you know you shouldn’t think much of her actions, youngseo’s too unpredictable.

after everything, why now?

“are you even paying attention?” jeemin’s whines mixed with the song blasting through the speakers.

it was late into the night and you decided to stay back with the tall girl to help polish her moves. you thought her moves were perfect the first time she showed it to you. and by the nth time, your mind can’t help but drift.

jeemin couldn’t believe it when you agreed after all the stage is coming up soon, there’s no time to loiter around. but she didn't have to know that you can never refuse her.

“are you okay? we can go home if you’re tired.” jeemin’s offer sounded sweet, she’s as nice as ever. but you witness the fire burning in her eyes, begging for her passion to translate into her performance. you knew it will never be extinguished completely, she was born to be a performer. so you let it burn you a little more.

“im fine, don’t worry about me and carry on,” you gesture for her to continue. and she restarts the song all over again. this time, you poured her all of your attention.

it was a wonder how your mind sailed before when jeemin is tight in front of you. her performance was impeccable as ever, the hard work and talent prominent in every sway and stroke.

“you’re off to space again,” jeemin narrows her eyes down at you playfully. her raspy voice was a blessing and her smile was godsend. an angel looks down at you.

“i wasn’t this time! i swear! i was just mesmerized.” your hands flew up in defense as you stand up to join her in front of the mirror.

“stop lying!” she smacks your arm lightly, her laugh gracing the whole room. you were glad nobody else was in the room, it made the privilege of making her laugh sweeter.

“fine then. if you were actually paying attention, at least give me some feedback.” your heart leaped at the sight of her crossing her arms.

“you were perfect!” jeemin let out a big sigh. as much as jeemin likes being praised, she needs actual feedback. something she can work with for these next few days leading to the stage.

“give me something more specific,” jeemin rolls her eyes lightly. but even then her cheeks stay up and her smile never faltered.

“well,” you think for a bit. “i liked how you start of the song. it really set the mood for the song.”

in front of you, jeemin’s pink turn a bright shade of pink.

“i think you also killed the omona part. you’re naturally cute so plus points for that. and then this move,” you didn’t know the name of the move so you demonstrate it to her.

jeemin bursts out laughing at your attempt. your awkward movements reflecting wholly through the mirror and you follow after jeemin, throwing your head back. “stop laughing, im not that bad.”

but jeemin continued giggling and so did you. the joyful sounds filling the entire space and drowning the faint sounds of the speakers.

you calm down after a few seconds but one look from each other sent you both into another spiral again. soon, both of you were lying on the floor, clutching your stomachs.

“ah- my stomach hurts from laughing so much.” jeemin blurts out between breaths and gasps.

“who said we’re done yet? you just made fun of my dancing.” you hands flew to her sides before she can fully comprehend what you said. another round of laughter echoes throughout the room as you tickle jeemin mercilessly.

somehow, she managed to get free from your grasp and now a tall baby is chasing you around the practice room.

jeemin catches your arm and pulled you to her, lightly but it was enough for your bodies to collide. she uses the momentum to turn your back to the wall, effectively locking you.

“got you,” she smiles brightly at you, a thousand watts on her lips.

the laughter comes to a gradual halt as silence blankets the both of you. her grin turns into a soft smile and her eyes felt endearing against yours. you couldn’t look at her in anything but adoration.

you anticipated it would happen. in fact, you hoped for it. but it still caught you by surprise when her lips press against yours. soft and gentle just like everything about her.

you wanted to press harder, for it to last longer. but you were already living in a dream and a second longer would be asking for too much.

jeemin pulls away in haste. you would’ve dived in for one more if you hadn't seen the panic flashing across her features. she blinks once, twice until the haze in her eyes clears.

she remained stiff for a moment. she looks up at you and the look of regret she gives you haunt you even after weeks.

“im sorry, i shouldn’t have,” she whispers, pupils still blown wide.

reassurance was a the tip of your tongue but you held back. but what were you going to say? that its fine and to just forget it ever happened?

immediately your mind reverts back to youngseo for a split second. it didn’t turn out well when you said that to her so what good would it do to say it to jeemin?

jeemin looks at your face, trying to make sense of your incomprehensible expression just to take a peak at your thoughts.

but each moment felt eternity to jeemin. and trepidation sets in her veins deeper and deeper until it roots and sprouts into anxiety. all while you weren’t aware of the consequences your silence had brought to her.

“jeemin-”

before you can finish, she was already out of door. from the practice room, you hear the echo of her dashing footsteps. as it died down, you were left wondering if you just let history repeat itself.

another friendship broken in the name of fleeting romance. but will this time be worth it?

[poppadom0912]

🍰 with Conner Rhodes. Prompts ‘this isn’t up for debate’ and/or ‘are you hurt’? Congrats on 1k!!!

A/N: Thank you so much for ordering! I've been in a bit of a slump recently and I wasn't motivated to write anything till you sent this so another thank you. Please enjoy!!

🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰

"Are you hurt?"

You whipped your head to the door, immediately regretting it as the pain pulsated, head continuously throbbing and eye twitching. You took so long to recollect yourself that you missed the concern wash over your husband who instantly rushed over to you, bag discarded and coat still on.

"What the hell happened?" His voice was ever so soft, drowning in concern, his gentle fingers cradling your face, both hands providing warmth the snow outside couldn't.

"Just a small accident at work." You said under your breath, voice hoarse from all the shouting. "It looks worse than it feels, trust me."

"You look like you've been in a car accident, this isn't small at all- your hands are bleeding!"

Sighing, you were already internally preparing to give up. You were so tired after a long day at work that you didn't have it in you to be your usual stubborn self who would fight so everything would go your way.

"We're going to med." Connor said with that no-nonsense tone to express his seriousness, knowing that you were going to fight back.

Which is exactly what you did.

"Con please, a few bandages, a shower and painkillers and I'll be perfectly fine." You argued back, already moving to stand up, trying your best not to wince at the burning in your legs.

"Oh my- you can't get even up you're in so much pain." Connor said under his breath, his hands feather light as he supported you in getting up. "What even happened?"

Yeah, there was no way in hell you were telling him what happened, he'd carry you out the house to the hospital no questions asked.

He clearly didn't appreciate the silence.

"Baby please." He stopped you from walking away, his big eyes boring into yours with desperation that only made you hurt more. "Just let me help you."

Sighing, you begrudgingly told him, unable to not fold when he looked at you like that.

"We were chasing someone on the run and we didn't realise there was two of them... so I might've gotten hit by a car."

Silence

"I'm sorry." Connor laughed incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief before asking, "Say that again for me because there's no way I just heard you say you got hit by a car."

You sucked air through your teeth, remaining silent, watching as reality set in.

Nodding his head, Connor looked on the edge of hysteria.

"We're going to med." He stated, picking up your phone and going to get your jacket. "Right now, let's go."

"Con babe-"

"This isn't up for debate." He finalised, resting your coat on your shoulders.

"It's okay to ask for help, that's why I'm here - it's why you married a surgeon." A soft smile made its why to his face. "Let me do my job and look after my wife, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." He said before sweeping you off your feet so smoothly that you felt no pain even after the sudden movement.

Squealing, you tried to keep down the laughter as not to be in more pain, you hands tightening around Connor's neck as he started walking.

"My gorgeous stubborn wife, oh what ever will I do with you." He said wistfully, making sure the door was locked behind him before looking down at you so fondly that it was hard to believe that his wife just got hit by a car.

"Ah, you'll just have to pamper her and be at her beck and call for the rest of eternity - that's the least you could do." You played along, your smile brightening as the pain dimmed a little.

"Oh no! I'm forever doomed, someone needs to save me."

Giggling, you found yourself relaxing, almost going limp in his arms.

"I'm joking, the only person who needs saving is Ruzek for not calling me the second you got hurt."

Shit. Adam was screwed and there was no one able to save him.

[anxiouslynumbme]

Will I ever be able to watch the final season of Criminal Minds and continue with the show after that season 14 finale? Well, it's been years, and I honestly don't think I can, which sucks, 'cause I've been watching that show for so, so long and I wanted to see its conclusion. I mean, I assume they address the atrocious JJ "big confession." But they don't go anywhere with it, right? Please tell me they don't. I've managed to avoid spoilers for this long and honestly, I just don't want to know.

Do they even realize what they've done to the characters they've disrespected and ruined?

I just genuinely don't understand. If they had ever wanted to take Spencer and JJ that route, they'd had so many opportunities over the years to make it work believably.

For example, before she'd met Will, or even after, but maybe it didn't work out between them. They could've shown Reid jealous, or given any kind of indication that he still felt something romantic for her. Any indication that she'd felt something romantic for him, which JJ had never once shown, even when he had a crush on her.

But she fell in love with a wonderful man and got married and had kids. And you want to tell me she'd done all of that as a means of settling for second best because she was too "scared" to tell Spencer her feelings before? Why was she scared? Seriously, there's no reason for her to hide her feelings if she'd actually felt them. They didn't even give a proper reason for that supposed fear that made her start an entire life with someone else instead of just letting Spencer know how she felt. What was so fucking scary, writers? Why did she start an entire relationship/marriage if she was secretly in love with her best friend? Am I supposed to believe that JJ is that selfish, cruel, and dumb? They really fucking ruined her character in a way that's really hard to come back from.

This is a TV show, things have to be shown to the audience to understand a character's motives and actions. You can't just make a character say something after years of nothing, and tell us that was how they'd felt all along. The audacity to even imply that it was some kind of a slow-burn love story.

Have you ever watched or read a slow-burn story before? JJ and Reid did not have a slow-burn arc, in any way. Shape or form. We'd had nothing to show or indicate that for 14 seasons.

And I know that some people think their scenes were a bit more insinuating and hinting at something in later seasons. And you know what, yes, I can honestly pinpoint the moment the writers were like, we need to add a few more hugs to their scenes in case we decide to make them suddenly fall in love. And that was when Reid was in prison. They had given them a lot more scenes together where they hugged and touched a lot. But we, the viewers, had no reason to read into it because at that point we completely believed their best friends/siblings' relationship that had been going on all that time. It had been 12 seasons at that point. She's in a loving marriage with kids! Oh, and then after that, they decided to wait two more seasons to, you know, ruin their characters.

And giving them more hugging scenes does not warrant the potential of something romantic. Friends hug each other. Especially, JJ and Reid, actually. So I think the writers were just lazy, or just wanted to do something shocking for ratings or whatever. If they'd wanted to go for it from the start, they would've shown way, way more from the characters to convey hidden/secret romantic feelings and mutual pining over the years.

What a waste of a beautiful and pure friendship. They honestly went and threw 14 seasons' worth of character development, moments, and awesome dynamic down the drain.

I know that some people ship it, and that's fine, of course. But personally, I don't think I'll ever forgive it. This kind of reminds me of how I met your mother a little bit, only this is way worse. Because at the very least, Ted and Robin were together at some point, and you know, actually had romantic moments throughout the show. But Criminal Minds had no grounds to stand on, in my opinion.