#why new Year’s resolutions suck

[kooldewd123]

For as much as I love Animorphs, I’ve never actually read it in order all the way through. It was always scattered entries, whatever I could find at the library or buy at garage sales. There’s even a small handful I haven’t read at all. That’s why, for my New Year’s resolution, I plan to reread the series in its entirety. However, I know how my brain works, and I’m afraid I might lose motivation and quit too soon. That’s why, after each book, I will add to this post with, in my opinion, the most fucked-up part of the book, as well as the silliest part (because anyone who’s read these books knows that those are the two main tenets of the series). That way, I’ll have a publicly available record to hold myself accountable to if I start slacking, plus a nice thread of propaganda to hopefully suck more people in. I plan to read one mainline book a week, starting with:

[heartfullofleeches]

Richboy bunny yan who keeps trying to pay bodyguard werewolf reader to see their fat tits - Cholly's Scarf

Richboy Bunny Yan who's initially pissed when his folks inform him they've gotten him a bodyguard. He's a grown ass man who can take care of himself. Sure people think he's easy pickings because of his size...and he's been held for ransom once or twice in the past, but that doesn't mean anything! He'll just have to be the worst boss imaginable - if his family wanted to treat him like a child he'll be the most insufferable brat to work with till the bastard they hired runs out the door with their tail between their legs.

Richboy Bunny Yan waits patiently for the arrival of his new bodyguard - smug with his resolution. They'll be out of his fur before he knows it and things will go back to the same way they used to be-

"You my new boss?"

Richboy Bunny Yan who can't get a good look at the wolf's face from where he's sitting. It's hard to see anything with the werewolf's large chest blocking out the room's artificial light. Bunny had his fair share of run ins with their kind, but he had yet to see a wolf so.... endowed in that particular area. Richboy Bunny Yan who has to wipe drool from the corner of his lips as he opens his mouth to speak, carefully calculating his first words to his new guard.

"....Can you unbutton your shirt for me?"

Richboy Bunny Yan who instantly becomes obsessed with his wolf and their massive tits. They may have a scary face, but they aren't so bas once you get to know them. His teddy bear, his giant puppy. Buys his pup low-cut shirts and tank tops to wear, salivating at the occasional slip of their skin through their clothing. He's such a clutz sometimes - spilling his drinks all over their chest like that... It's okay, he can just suck the alcohol from their shirt like any good boss would do.

Richboy Bunny Yan who calls his bodyguard hours after they've gone home to complain about the lumpiness of his pillows. If only he had a soft, warm place to rest his head.... Richboy Bunny Yan who's out like a light the moment his bodyguard caves and runs over to be his living mattress.

Richboy Bunny who despite claiming to be independent needs to be carried everywhere by his big strong wolf. They're paid enough not to care when their boss is groping their tits in broad daylight usually while waiting in line. He has to do something while waiting for his turn.

Richboy Bunny Yan who adores spoiling and dressing up his puppy. Orders them a new collar every other week and begs on his hands and knees, offering to pay their rent for the next ten years if they get nipple piercings, preferably with his initials on the jewelry. He doesn't even know why they go home anymore. They should live with him so he can fondle, wait- no, he means suckle... that's not right either.. lick?-

He just really wants his puppy within arms reach at all times okay?

-

Bodyguard Werewolf Reader, meeting their boss for the first time: Good after-

Richboy Bunny, swooning: Titty.....

Bodyguard Werewolf: Pardon?

Richboy Bunny: Ti.... Tis nice to meet you! Haha, why don't we start off by asking questions to get to know each other better? I'll go first, Kay? .... What's your bra size??

[ccrites]

chokehold

listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him

(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)

.

The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.

It was predictable, really.

A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because they’re staring at you specifically, but because it’s a reflex.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should’ve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.

No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Year’s promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest it’s just money down the drain. 

You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the others’ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.

The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes would’ve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).

The timer you’d set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. You’d be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you weren’t so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.

You’d seen him as soon as you walked in.

Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.

He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.

There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wife’s not feedin’ ‘em enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket. 

Yet this man.

Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked… almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his arms…

You’d swoon if you hadn’t lowered your standards so low he’d trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if there’s a thin with a fat, either one’s getting fattened up, or the other’s getting dumped. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one you’d rather not be a part of.

You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.

You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in… or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you should’ve gone for the abs straight away. God knows there’s fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.

You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.

No, a chest.

Fuck.

“Sorry there, miss,” says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.

Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens that’s a Chest with a capital C if you’ve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.

Double fuck.

“S-sorry, it’s me, wasn’t watching,” you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. “Just, y’know, switching exercises,” you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.

He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesn’t let you as he speaks in a soft tone.

“I’m getting arms aren’t really your thing, eh?” he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?

You can’t meet his eyes, they’re too blue, too piercing for your liking. “To be fair I don’t know what’s my thing yet, I’m just starting out, y’know?” you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.

He laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.

“Figured! A girl with thighs like yours, I’m sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lil’ training. I’m Johnny, by the way,” he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. “You ever got someone to train you?”

You’re entirely unsure if you’re dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?

“Never - uh… lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.” You definitely feel like you’re oversharing and you’re struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. “Oh and, uh– no. I’ve never… trained. Been trained. It’s my first time in a gym since- a while. I don’t want to bother you.”

You finally look up at him, and you’re unable to read his expression. There’s a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy that’s so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. “Not a bother at all, lass!” He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. “We can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then we’ll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!” he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then he’s back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.

His smile is like a blazing sun, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.

He’s infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. It’s all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way he’s placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.

“Whenever yer ready, hen.”

You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell you’d landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-

The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. You’re holding it.

You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. “Easy! I told you you’d be a natural! ‘S all in the legs and you’ve got awesome legs, bonnie! Let’s add twenty more.”

It’s a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. You’re out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but you’re smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.

“Next one’s exactly my weight, if y’can lift that, I’ll be losing my bloody mind! D’you realize how well yer doin’ for a first-timer?” He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. “Swear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, I’m buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!” he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.

He’s just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.

Deep breath in– hold it…

Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as you’re lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.

You yelp and flail but he’s holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while you’re trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.

“Put me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!”

He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.

“Jesus, I knew ye were perfect,” he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. “I cannot wait to properly start training ye’ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise ta’ keep, and, uh, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezin’ weather. On the way back from the bar, what d’ya say?” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know he’s joking around. (Is he?)

You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.

+++

The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by. 

He seems genuinely glad when you tell him you’d decided to head to the gym not just as a New Year’s resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. There’s no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but it’s a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a “big girl” job that left you no time for yourself.

“But I’ve always been a big girl,” you feel the need to justify. “Just… gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,” you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and… gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.

(It’s not a date, you dumbass)

“I happen to like big girls,” is what you don’t expect him to say.

Wait, what?

His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. “What?”

“I mean, why do you think I’d offer to train you?” he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. It’s squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.

Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.

“Out of– uh… out of niceness?” you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole they’d been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didn’t see right through you with that piercing gaze. “To feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.

“Strength training doesn’t work like that, bonnie.” He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you can’t find anything to argue back. “Ye’ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?” He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. “Ye’ think growing your quads will make this,” he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but he’s got you pinned down, “any less wide and soft?”

He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, you’re practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.

“I did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.”

You can’t be blamed when you don’t remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.

You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didn’t seem so thick anymore, you can’t think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring. 

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.

“Johnny,” you try to say, but it’s getting hard to think, with the way you’re being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. “Johnny,” you gasp out again, “aren’t we going a little fast?”

He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. “I can go as slow as you’d like, bun.” He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God you’re going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wear–

The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.

His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesn’t give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.

“Got me starin’ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in months, d’ye realize that, bonnie?” he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. “And by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starin’ at me, too.”

“You are–” you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, “-very nice to stare at.”

“Yeah?” you hear the grin in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.

“Then how’d ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?” he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.

Brain.exe has stopped functioning. 

Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you would’ve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding “Huh?” as you stare back at him.

And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.

“How about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, how’s that sound?” His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesn’t pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. “In fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?”

“I’m not-” you can’t think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. “I’m sweaty, you don’t wanna–”

But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek “But I do.” He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. “God, I want it. Let me have this.”

A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly won’t be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.

You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.

In the end, you’re the one that pleads.

“Johnny, please.”

Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.

The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, it’s the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, it’s the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.

It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car… Yet it’s not. It’s natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.

“Johnny,” you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but he’s firmly keeping you in place. “Please, don’t tease.”

He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. It’s absolutely maddening. “Johnny, please!”

He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. “Thought ye’ wanted me ta’ go slow, bun.” His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.

“I’m fine with faster–” you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.

His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons you’d wonder how he is that he’s breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that he’s perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication you’ve never been shown from a man of his caliber.

He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee that’s not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.

“Easy there,” he groans almost petulantly, as if you’re interrupting him. “Can’t have you fallin’ over when I’m not done wit’ ye.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. “You’re a bit too good at this.” He grins up at you, “Am I?” and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. “Guess the mess on my face speaks for itself… Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. “Couch is closer.” His smile is blinding. “I like how ye’ think.”

It’s now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldn’t wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.

You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.

You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadn’t been kissing you sloppily the entire time.

“Come back,” you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear night’s skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.

“I did say I was gonna make you come on my face,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue can’t reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that he’s so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you could’ve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you can’t move under the iron grip he has on you.

You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.

“Please,” you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesn’t seem to care. “Johnny.”

“What,” he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot? 

“I need… I need,” you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.

That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. “Guess you’ll have to keep tryin’, pet,” he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.

Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?

You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.

After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.

“Fucking finally–” you start, ready to curse him out, but he’s faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.

“Thassit– there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesn’t need to last long before you’re off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, you’d maybe notice that you’d managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasn’t, so you don’t, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.

Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours. 

You didn’t believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet. 

He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.

“Ye’ with me, bun?”

“Mmhm.”

“That slow enough fer’ ye’?” He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.

“I’m gonna kill you dead,” you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.

“Let me at least fuck you properly, first,” he whispers, and you notice that he’s long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word “Please,” is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Fuck-” he grunts, “so tight, cannot believe it.”

He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that he’s vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.

You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “no, let me, let me just–” and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, “Here, around me,” helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.

“Oh, God, oh God,” you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.

“That’s it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like ye’ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-”

Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you don’t have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.

“Johnny, Johnny,” you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.

“Don’t give up now, bonnie, keep squeezin’, fuck, I can feel ye’, yer so close.”

You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed “Need ta’ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-”

One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you can’t tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmly– before letting go as he starts humming.

Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You don’t see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another hum– no, another moan vibrates through your core, it’s the last thing you hear before you’re absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.

It’s even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.

You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.

“Ye’ absolute menace,” he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? That’s a piece of information best stored for later.

You’re still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. “Now what?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you can’t help but feel awkward and insecure now that it’s all done, despite the comforting cuddle.

He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like he’d read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.

“Same time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.

“Next time.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Don't cha wanna dance?

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31

Prompt: New year's resolutions

Rated: T

CW: Vague boner references again

Tags: No UD AU; dancer Steve Harrington; good neighbor Eddie Munson; Flirting; Sexual tension

Notes: Continued from day 22. This is for @sourw0lfs and @wormdebut specifically, who very gently bullied talked me into writing more dancer!Steve. 🩰

Eddie has never understood new year's resolutions. He believes that, if he wanted to change something about himself, he could do it any time. Like quit smoking. Or stop biting his nails. Or be less of a goddamn push-over. 

Okay, so maybe the latter is something he should really, really work on, ‘cause it's gotten him into a whole shitload of unfortunate situations lately. As if chauffeuring Max to her stupid ballet classes wasn't enough. Now he's also helping out at the dancing school’s annual Christmas recital, because he's just such a nice guy, apparently.

While he tries to arrange the lopsided folding chairs into something resembling a neat line, he struggles to remember when he agreed to this shit. For the life of him, he can't recall. His brain was probably flat-lining when Max asked him, as it tends to do around a certain very hot dance teacher and his muscles and his tights and-

“Looking good!” 

He whips his head up. Steve is standing a few paces away. The tights are a pale pink today. Jesus Christ. 

“You too,” Eddie blurts. Steve's eyebrow arches and shit, he wasn't talking about Eddie, was he? “I mean, thanks, I … ow, son of a-”

“Oh, shit!” Steve is next to him in an instant, freeing his hand from the maws of the folding chair. Eddie swears, sucks his throbbing thumb into his mouth. “Sorry, these things are ancient. You need an ice pack? I've got some-” 

“‘m good,” Eddie says. Tries to go for suave. Fails because he's still got his own thumb up his mouth like a fucking two-year-old. “Had worse.” 

Steve’s face is a mask of doubt, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Anyhow,” he smiles instead, putting the offending chair in line with the rest. “I just wanted to say thanks again. You're probably busy enough around the holidays, but Max insisted you'd be happy to help.” 

“I'm not,” Eddie says. Pauses. Grabs a strand of hair to hide behind. “Busy, I mean. I am happy to help, so … don't sweat it, or whatever.” 

A heartbeat passes in awkward silence. 

“So, what's with the, um …” Eddie says. Watches how Steve tilts his head at him, hair swooshing with the motion. Briefly considers stuffing his thumb back in his mouth to shut himself up. “... with the y’know. The getup.” 

Something flashes across Steve’s face, something dangerously akin to hurt. 

“What?” he asks, doing a hesitant three-sixty. “Something wrong with it?” 

Screw the thumb, Eddie thinks. He needs to find a way to fit his entire hand in there. And Steve, for what it’s worth, needs to stop twirling, or they're about to have a massive fucking problem.

“It’s fine!” he says. Maybe a bit too fast, because he thinks Steve’s mouth curls into a smug smile. “I just mean, um … you’re not … dancing today, are you?” 

Is he? Oh dear God, please no. The place is gonna be swarming with proud parents and relatives, Eddie is not ready for the inevitable consequences of Steve in his pink tights on that stage. Not in the skinny jeans he had to wear today, stupid fucking moron that he is. 

“Huh? No, tonight is all about the girls,” Steve says. Eddie is so busy sighing in relief and nodding that he doesn’t catch the next words.

“Sorry, what?” 

“That other recital I was talking about earlier? You coming to that, too?” Steve repeats, and fuck, what other recital? Eddie really needs to work on his listening skills. If he actually listened instead of staring at the guy like a catatonic caveman every so often, he might be able to maintain a halfway intelligent conversation. 

He’d also probably know why Steve is suddenly coming closer. Eddie tries to take a frantic step backwards and almost crashes into the folding chairs. 

“Oh, erm …,” he stammers. “When was it again?” 

Stever reaches up to run a hand through his hair, boyish and bashful. 

“Um, New Year's Eve,” he says apologetically. “I totally understand if you already have plans, it's just… There's a little get-together after the show, too, with drinks and snacks, and I thought-”

“Sure, I'll be there,” Eddie says. 

See, what did he say? Total push-over. 

The thing is, with the way Steve’s eyes light up, he can't really find it in himself to regret it. 

*

“Ew, what happened to your finger?” Max looks about as disgusted as she sounds. Which is probably fair, because Eddie’s thumb has turned a vibrant purple. 

“These little babies did,” Eddie gestures offhandedly at the chairs they're stacking against the wall. “So be careful.” 

“Were you staring at Steve again?” 

“Fuck off, I wasn't.” 

She pushes the hair that has come loose from its bun out of her eyes so she can give him a deadpan stare. Eddie glowers right back. 

“And even if I was, what's it to you? You can be glad I keep showing up to these gigs. Today, on New Year's Eve, it's really getting-” 

“What are you on about?” Her entire face scrunches up in confusion. “There's no recital on-” 

“Oh no?” Eddie pulls the flier Steve gave him from his pocket and pushes it into her chest. “Then what's this?” 

“That's not our school, dumbass. Check the address.” 

She studies it for a second.

“Huh? What d'you…?” Eddie is already squinting at the letters again. Sure enough, the address doesn't match the one he's been driving Max to. Instead, it's somewhere downtown. “What?” 

“That's the studio Steve goes to,” Max has already returned to stacking chairs. “Super fancy place. He used to be a pro, y’know? Before he tore that muscle?” 

When Eddie doesn’t reply, she tugs the flier from his limp fingers, folds it neatly and puts it into his jacket pocket. 

“Happy new year, doofus. Better wear bulky pants.” 

All my holiday drabbles

[itsnothingofinterest]

Oh wow so my hero is ending in five chapters, any idea what those five chapters will be? We know we have that new stranger and the todoroki household to deal with so what else could they cover?

Well there’s obviously a lot to go over, but I expect some things (todofam) to get a lot more focus and page space than others (Gentle and Nagant) so to focus my answers on, well, what I expect to be the focus:

One chapter (426) will be, as I think we all can tell, the Todoroki resolution. Talked about my expectations/ worries for that here.

Next (427) will probably feature Uraraka & whatever happened to Toga in some way. Although since Hori dosn't always treat her the best (I mean I do think her villain fight was the best, but I don’t believe that was on purpose), I wouldn't be surprised if her chapter shares page time with other student plot lines, whatever happened to Spinner and/or the heteromorph plotline, and other miscellaneous stuff like Gentle getting released from prison.

Mystery person I'll bet will probably actually be two chapters (428 & 429): a) because it's Midoriya's resolution and b) because it'd naturally need more time for that; introducing a new character and all, bit of backstory to explain why they were tied up in some house and had to cut themselves loose with with sissors. Especially if it goes the way I except; mystery guy's a poor jaded victim-villain on their way to becoming the next Tomura, but Deku will save them and it'll be presented as though that means society is now improved such that it won't fail any more future Tenko Shimuras. ...Even though a) that's a hard sell after murdering Tenko Shimura in the arc that was specifically representing how thing will go from now on and b) that idea entirely misses the point of Tenko Shimura's story. But even giving this two dedicated chapters, that's the best Deku can really do so...guess you've still just got to hope a hero's around to save you. If not; sucks to suck, good luck with villainy and/or dying.

And uh, last chapter (430 if all our math is right) will probably just be your standard fare “5 or so years later" chapter about everyone as pro heroes. Everything is great and fine and so much better for no real reason and they'll all live happily ever after for anyone still alive; The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although if I may be spiteful; one thing I hope doesn’t get touched on is the quirk singularity doomsday plot line. Because as is, it still looks like the best case is for humanity to become an endangered species as soon as around the time of Class 1A’s eventual retirement (presumably their last decade or two spent dealing with panic over that). All because hero society refused to look where things are bad or inconvenient; and just when a solution, a treatment & cure to this condition was available to them anyway…Deku smashed it into dust because that’s the only way the little All Might clone could conceive of to beat the big bad villain.

And again, I know this is spiteful, but I rather like the idea of Deku murdering Tomura having such a serious consequence.

[keen-li]

NEW YEAR, NEW MARMALADE; new year special.

☆BEFORE

Synopsis: where all you and jungkook's shenanigans began.

2nd drabble; Part of the MARMALADE series.

MASTERLIST

Warnings: two tipsy goofies, unprotected sex ( don't be silly, wrap it before you tap it), spanking, fingering, pet names, denial, no thinks, not so affectionate, dirty talking.

Wc: 4.3k

18+, Minors do not interact.

☆

It sucks how you were spending your new year's eve at home doing nothing. But you're glad at least you were living upto you new year's resolution. No parties.

You knew that there were parties happening, were you invited? No. Would you even go if you were? No, well maybe cause home is just a little boring.

You've settled to having a loner comfort night. Curled up into your couch with a blanket in your pajama shorts and a hot pizza by your side. Nothing better than this.

Ding dong.

You knit your eyebrows at the sound of the door bell. You weren't expecting anyone nor did you order anything.

You stand walking cautiously to the door, when you get to it you peep through the tiny hole. To your surprise to you see jungkook standing infront of your door, hand in his hair waiting for someone to open the door. His tattoos are perfectly on display in his black t-shirt.

Still a little confused to why he's here you open the door. Jungkook's eyes move to you as your figure comes into frame when you fully open the door.

"Hey" he says voice sure and deep.

The porch light illuminates his features well enough for you to admire, his lips look redder than usual.

"Hey" you respond a little more unsure and timid and your eyes move to the wine bottle in his hand.

"My brother isn't around" you inform "didn't he tell you?"

Your brother decided to leave you home alone and spend new year with his girlfriend out of town.  You were glad that he left so you can enjoy the new year alone.  You actually hoped to go to a party but ended up not feeling like it.

"I know" his words shock you, if he knows then what is he doing here.

"I came to see you" his sure smile and demeanour takes you back more.

You hum and nod awkwardly.

"Why?" You finally ask.

"Didn't see you at the party, so I thought you'd need some company"

"Do you mean the party I wasn't invited to?" You chuckle a bit directing for him to get in.

"What do you mean? I gave your brother the invitation" he informs you "he told me he'd give it to you." He waits for your response.

"I guess he didn't want me to go... cause he never gave it to me" you chuckle "he never liked me going going parties alone anyways"

"That's why you should give me your number so we can communicate directly" you smile at his attempt, which was kinda smooth to you.

Jungkook hums.

"Kinda sad you didn't come though" he places the bottle on your kitchen counter and his eyes meet yours. "I was hoping to see you"

Your heart thumps when he says that, you aren't sure if he means what you think but whatever he means it has your heart thumping.

You want to ask what he means but you don't want to ruin whatever you think he means.

"Do you drink?" He asks his eyes pointed to the bottle.

"Yeah I do" you pull out to wine glasses from your cabinet. Your mother insisted on you guys having those just in case, she's the care-free kind.

-

"Is it too strong?" He asks you leaning back against your couch, legs spread as he takes in his third glass of wine.

"No i-i don't think so" you stumble on your words showing the effect of the third glass on you.

Jungkook chuckles noticing how buzzed you've gotten. He himself's kinda buzzed too, he never expected wine to have such an effect on him so early on. He guesses it's cause of how comfortable he is right now.

"Why did you come here, you should've been at the party" you turn to face him.

"I came to keep you company. Plus it was boring anyways" he plays with the wine in his glass "it's good you never came"

You both laugh at that.

The party was surely boring, mostly cause his mind was so occupied with you. He'd been thinking too much about whether you were going to come and his mind ended up slipping to other thoughts of you. Like the ones of your Instagram posts. The one's you took for your birthday. By the looks of it, and by what your brother had said, you had taken a birthday trip with your friends  and those pictures were a result of it.

Jungkook couldn't stop thinking of those photos,  your thighs on display in that bikini and the sun hitting you just right. And that pretty smile of yours, that warmed his heart.

He didn't even plan on lingering or finding your pictures. They just popped up on his feed and after that he couldn't stop looking. His mind wondering too far for his liking leading him to have a very hot and needy session with himself which ended with him taking a cold shower cause he couldn't seem to reach his end. He needed you.

He knew it was wrong in some way to think of his friend's sister in this kind of way but damn he couldn't help himself. You were just what he wanted, what he needed. In more ways than one. Even though he doesn't like it and doesn't even know why.

At the party his mind was so filled with you that when yuji spoke to him, he got kinda pissed. And that's one of the reasons he left the party,  cause of yuji.

He never planned on coming here, he never thought it was a good idea but he thought about you all alone, bored at him. So he wanted to keep you some company.

"Some company huh?" you questioned.

"Yep" he turns to face you. His eyes momentarily fall onto your lips while are lightly stained by the wine.

"Its on my new year's resolution anyways" you say and he knits his brows at you.

"What is?" He asks curious.

"No going to any parties" he laughs at your statement "what im serious" you laugh back, you eye the way his arm flexes when he stretches it to run his hand through his hair.

"It's a good resolution" he sounds like he's teasing you.

"Okay. Seems like you have a better one" you raise a brow at him leaning your arm on the couch head. "What's your new year's resolution?"

"Me?" He places his hand on his chest. "I'm not the type to do that kind of thing"

"Oh come on" you roll your eyes. "Don't be like that"

"What?" He chuckles at you.

"I know you have a resolution. Even one" you lift your pointer to emphasise.

Jungkook chuckles at your bubblely talkativeness. He never knew you could be like this, maybe it's the wine.

"No I don't have any" he laughs and you shake your head.

"Okay okay" you pause placing a hand in his chest. You don't seem to realise what you're doing but jungkook does. He looks down at your hand that's still on him and it  brings a grin on his face. Makes him feel some kind of way. But he can't seem to deduce what it is. He lifts his head to stare at you and you don't seem attentive to what you're doing to him with that small touch.

"What do you want for yourself next year" you say your voice calm and you hold eye contact with him. Your eyes are genuine as you ask that question.

Jungkook puts on a thinking face as you stare at his wine stained pouty lips.

"You can tell me" your tone is warm and welcoming. He's never thought about what he wants for himself next year. He just lives life, hoping the choices come easy, which they never do. The way your eyes watch him warmly and your tone welcomes him to be able to open up, he feels like he can be open with himself and with you.

"Uhhh" he thinks "maybe to make better choices" he tells you voice calm and still in thought.  He does think he should learn to make better choices, maybe his life would be a little better.

"See thats a good start" your hand finally leaves his chest and he already misses your touch.

"Now you should keep your word" you move and reach for your glass of wine.

Jungkook places a hand on yours stopping you.

"Maybe you shouldn't drink more... you've had enough" his face is so close to yours that you can smell the wine from his breath.

"Don't you think you've had enough baby?" He says voice soft and gentle and he stares into your eyes. He doesn't know where that name came from but he said it and he doesn't regret it. The look on your face tells him you probably don't mind it too.

You don't know why but that name causes something to switch in you. With the way hes looking at you and you're currently switching to look at his lips, you can't help yourself. You're not even sure if he wants it too and you know it's probably wrong but it feels right in the moment.

With his lips so close to you you take the chance and connect your lips.  Maybe it's the wine that gave you the confidence or maybe it's just the need and desire for jungkook.  Your lips connect and it feels good, you've thought about this for some time now, but with the way he doesn't kiss you back makes you feel like you've pushed the limit.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I-i-i shouldn't have done that" you move back.

"Maybe you were right, I shouldn't drink more" you chuckle awkwardly. You continue to mumble apologises and jungkook smirks at your mumbles.

"Shhh" you freeze when you feel his hand on your cheek. He lifts your face so you can face him.

"I liked it" He says before connecting your lips again. "You just caught me off gaurd" he smiles against your lips and your heart relaxes when he says he likes it.

You place your hands around his neck pulling him closer into your lips and hes kinda shocked by your forwardness. His lips are soft and smooth against yours, the way he pulls your lower lip makes you release a moan.

"Never thought you were the eager kind" he says leaning you back to rest your head against the couch.

You want to tell him you've thought about this before but you don't wanna make yourself seem desperate. You trap jungkook between your legs as he hovers over you.

His lips continue to move with yours in a hurried kiss, his tongue still tastes like wine which makes you pull him in closer. You hands pull at his roots and he releases a moan.

"Baby you're gonna have to go easy on me" he releases a breathy chuckle that brushes against your lips.

"I'm pretty sure you can handle it" your hands move down his chest to grab the end of his shirt.

"I can" he grinds his growing bulge against your core and you release a needy moan.

Your hands wantingly move to his belt and before you can rip it off; his hand stops you.

"Wait" he pauses and you knit your brows. "Are you sure or maybe you're just drunk"

"I'm pretty sober and sure I don't know about you?" You raise a brow at him.

"I am too" he smiles before going back to the wet and needy kiss.

You're both pretty sober. Sober enough to know that you're about to fuck your Brother's friend and for him to know he's about to fuck he's friend's sister.  But that's the last of your concerns right now, what you have in mind right now is to take off jungkook's pants.

He stands moving from you to pull off his pants fully leaving him shirtless in his briefs.

"Take those off" he nods to your bottoms and you comply quickly pulling them off. Jungkook widens his eyes when he sees you aren't wearing anything underneath.

"Commando huh?"

"It was my day of rest today" you defend as he sits himself between your thighs.

"Or maybe you were waiting for somebody?" You shake your head at his question and he smiles.

"Good" he connects your lips, immediately searching for your tongue and finding it.

Your hands caress his abs and the muscles that contract under your touch.

"Are you a..." he asks cautiously hoping you catch on.

"No. But its been a while" you tell him getting shy for the first time tonight. You haven't slept with anyone in a while, you've just been trying to pay attention to school. Maybe that's why you feel so needy for jungkook, and not that you actually feel something for him.

"Fuck" you grunt when you pull jungkook out of his briefs, hot and heavy.

"What? Are you scared?" He asks a little cheeky and proud that he had that reaction from you.  Cause he knows girls can get kinda intimidated by his him.

"No. But maybe just a bit" you stroke him a bit making him scrunch his face. How he'd love to have your hands wrapped around him forever but tonight he just needs to fuck you.

"Don't worry I'll be gentle" he whispers by your ear and brushes his tip through your folds. You release a moan hoping he doesn't tease you for long.

"But I won't promise that next time" he places open kisses on your neck.

Next time? You wonder. Does he plan on making this a routine, you don't mind though.

He continues to swipe his tip in between your folds and you honestly feel like you could finish this way but its not enough still.

"Jungkook please" you whine.

"You don't want me to prep you a bit" he moves his hands and sticks two fingers in you.  The stretch burns a little but pleasures more. He watches your face show many emotions by the the he pulls his fingers in and out. The squelching sounds make blood rush to his cock making it pulse even harder.

"Fuck baby, you're so fucking wet" he confesses by your ear but you're to lost in the pleasure to respond. Your whines and whimpers fall onto jungkook's ear. A melody to his ears.

Jungkook can feel your hole pulsate around his fingers and your moans grow louder. He knows you're close.

"Come on baby. Come over my fingers" he encourages.

Jungkook's words and the sounds in the air encourage you reach your end.

"Fuck" you moan breathless.

"Fuck is right baby" he kisses your lips. "You think you can take my cock, come for me one more time?" He asks and you nods.

"Please" is all you can say and you lock your lips with his. As your lips intertwine you can feel his tip at your entrance.

You gasp when you feel him push through.  The stretch is wider than before and it has you gripping the skin of his back.

"Shhh. Its okay" he pushes further and your slick helps him move further. He fully settles in you and stays like that for a bit getting comfortable.

Jungkook can't help but think about how warm and comfortable you feel. He's thought about this ever since he doesn't even know when. Ever since that damn Christmas party last year. He doesn't why or when it happened but you made him feel different. Looking at you that night felt different, like he wasn't looking at his friend's sister. But he can't think about that right now, maybe later. Right now you're someone he really wants. And needs.

This is really gonna help him take his mind off things and enjoy you.

"You're so freaking warm"

He doesn't even want to move,  he could stay like this forever. With his little cock sleeve to keep him warm and cozy.

"Are you gonna move or not?" You snap him out of his thoughts and he chuckles.

"Sorry got comfortable in your little pussy" you clench when he says that.

Jungkook raises a brow at that reaction.

"You like that huh?" He slips out. "You like it when I talk about this little pussy" you clench again as he moves In again. He groans at how tight you feel , the way you hold onto him for dear life.

"Fuck baby. If you hold onto me any tighter I won't last long"

You chuckle and pull his face towards yours.

"That would be a shame"

"I know,  that's why you need to open up for me"

Instead you tighten restricting his movements teasingly. You see him scrunch his face then throw a warning glare and grin at you. Knowing what you're doing you smirk and tighten even more.

"Behave yourself Y/n" he says your name pleading and desperate. You don't seem to want to obey him so he does the only thing he knows.

You gasp when a smack lands on your thighs. It stings and falls hards.

"Ouch"

"I wanted to go soft on you, but you dont seem like you deserve it" another smack lands on the same spot.

"Huh?Do you think you deserve it?" You suck in a breath as he rubs the stinging area.

"Huh?" Another one lands and the fact that he's still in you makes you clench around him. Though it feels good you just want to feel him move.

You shake your head answering his question.

"So you like being spanked as well" he moves to your ear "you're not the good girl i thought you were" he chuckles "but I don't mind."

He grips your thighs spreading them roughing and you groan. And like a maniac starts to frantically rock into you.

You can barely hold in your moans and whimpers as he drills into you mercilessly.

His name casually falls from your lips in between moans.

Jungkook wants to confess how much he's thought about this and about you. But he doesn't want to seem desperate or like he just came here to fuck you. He didn't plan on it but he couldn't say no. He just wanted to talk to you,  little did he know you also seemed to share the same thoughts. Or maybe you were just looking for a quick fuck cause you haven't had the chance to in a while. He doesn't want to think about it. Whether you're fucking for the sake of it or whether you actually feel something, he doesn't care. It'd be better if you don't think much of this anyways.

You move your hands to reach were you're both connected. Your hands start to rub circles on your bud and jungkook smacks your thigh drawing your attention.

He shakes his head. "Jungkook please" you whine.

He knows what you want, and jungkook doesn't like to take orders but he'll do it for you.

Your moans grow stronger as you feel his fingers rub circles where you need it the most. Your head beings to go dizzy with pleasure as jungkook starts to speed up.

"Fuck I'm so close" he says grunting.

"Me too" you inform.

His hips don't halt as you clench feeling your high reach.

"Fuck I'm not on birth control" you remember and inform him worriedly at the last minute. You got carried away.

"Fuck y/n" he sounds a little mad.

"Sorry"

"I'll pull out" he tells you his face scrunched up.

You grip the couch as the knot snap in you. "Shit" you moan.

"Where do you want it?" He asks rushed, you can't even think or ponder on his statement cause your brain gets foggy from the overstimulation from him chasing his own high.

"Fuck Y/n. SPEAK!" the way he grips your thighs pulls your attention. You don't get the chance to respond as he pulls put and spurts on your stomach.

"Fuck" he runs his hands through his hair. "When I ask you something, respond quickly"

He slaps your thigh.

"Otherwise next time I'm gonna put a baby in you" he grits his teeth as he stands to put on his trousers. He doesn't seem mad but maybe just a little annoyed about it.

"And we both don't want that" he throws you a tissue he got from the kitchen.

You wipe him off you and put on your bottoms.

You watch jungkook put on his shirt and the lack of a little more care and affection or even eye contact  aches you in some kind of way. You shouldn't care but you can't help but to, you hug your frame as you stand. There's still a little discomfort in between your legs but its still bare able.

You watch jungkook walk to the door and you raise your brows.

"You're leaving?" you ask timidly no longer feeling so confident. He turns his head in question.

"I mean we could finish the movie" you say trying to convince him.

"That movie's long gone y/n" he chuckles as he holds the door open and steps on the porch, you follow and place your hand on the door.

"Plus, I'm not sure when when your brother will be back so I better get going. "

You want to tell him that your brother won't be here tonight or even tomorrow but you decide to let him leave.  If he wants to he can leave you're not gonna hold him. Even though it does kinda make you feel used. Maybe it's the lover girl in you.

Jungkook notices the sad look on your face and that you're now shielding yourself from him, which makes him frown. He doesn't want to make you feel like he was using you, that's not what he was doing. He just knows that it's not best for him to stay.  He knows your brother won't be here tonight, he just used it as an excuse, he can't stay any longer that he should've. Now that he thinks about it he shouldn't have even fucked you, but he doesn't regret it still.

"I enjoyed tonight" he says hoping that lifts your spirits up.  It seems to only do half of it, and you give him a half smile.

"Me too" you say voice still shallow.

"Uhh"

He wants to say something but is interrupted by a loud pop and flash in the sky. You both watch the brightly coloured sparks spread in the sky, and the loud sound makes you jump a little but he doesn't noticed.

Jungkook hums pulling out his phone to check the date. You watch a smile pull on his face as he turns to you.

"I guess it's new year" he says trying to sound jolly and you give him the most genuine smile you have.

"Happy New year Y/n" he approaches you and places a kiss on your forehead, which he'd never do but he's just trying to make you feel better and let you know he wasn't using you.

Somehow it does give you some comfort as you take in his scent one more time, you're sure this scent's gonna linger for the rest of the night.

"Happy New year jungkook" you smile sounding a little happier.

Jungkook walks away as the fireworks still blare in the sky. You stay outside watching the sky a little longer as you wonder what the heck you just did. Did you really just fuck your Brother's friend.  What makes it worse is that it was the best fuck of your life. What a way to start the year, your friends would tap your back for this. But you don't think its anything to cheer you on for.

As jungkook drives back home he hopes you dont get carried away with this. It would make the situation even worse. He doesn't regret it, he just doesn't want to drag you along. He kind of wishes he never slept with you,  maybe he shouldn't even have visited you. But it's not your fault its his.

-

It's been like 5 days into the new year and you couldn't stop thinking about new year's eve. You still don't regret it but you're just kind of concerned whether your brother would find out.

You've tried to act like yourself and not awkward like jungkook told you to.

"Just act cool otherwise he'll notice" he says through the speaker of yaour phone.

"I'm trying" you say.

"Try harder" he chuckles and so do you.

"But what if he finds out?" you nervously say mentally biting your nails.

You hear jungkook sigh.

"Y/n" his voice drops an octave as he says your name and he gives you flashbacks of that night.

"Your brother won't find out, I promise you. That's if you don't give it away"

You hum and feel kind of reassured that jungkook won't tell. Its all up to you to not give it up.

"Do you kind of regret it" you ask softly and he seems taken aback by your question.

"Do you?"

You've been thinking about that and you're pretty sure of your answer now.

"No I don't" you bite your bottom lip. "Do you?"

Do you feel nervous asking him that? YES. Cause what if he says yes, what will you do then. You kind of don't want to hear his answer now, but it's too late you've already asked.

"No." Your heart thumps.

"But maybe I would if I couldn't still feel your pussy wrapped around my cock"  you can hear the smirk as he says that.

You smile as he says that, some how even through the phone he has you clenching around nothing.

"Good night Y/n. See you when I see you" you can literally hear him smile it's crazy.

"Have a good year jungkook" you say before cutting.

This is gonna be an interesting year for you.

☆

I hope you all have a lovely and pleasant New year. hope you'll be with MARMALADE even next year:)

Happy new year.

I'm not a professional at writing smut, hope this was digestible.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I've been in the fandom for a while. I personally think Kataang getting together after the EIP kiss without any resolution wasn't a good writing choice. I think many women HAVE been in a situation where they've been kissed like that, so they automatically dislike it.

I get why people would be turned off from Kataang after the EIP kiss. What I absolutely don't get is how people think Zuko is a better romantic partner. Did they see how Zuko treated Mai in The Beach?

That's what baffles me. Shippers will say Aang's entitlement in kissing Katara without her consent turned them off Kataang. I can understand that. But the same Zutara shippers all laud Zuko as a amazing bf, despite the fact that he:

accused Mai of cheating without any evidence

Accuses Mai of being passionless, hurting her

punches a guy and destroys his property for no reason

tells Mai that his abuse is more important than her feelings

Snidely tells Ma, "where's your new bf"

Never apologises to her for acting that way

Why is there such a cognitive dissonance, do you think? Shouldn't these shippers be turned off Zuko as a bf? Even in the last episode, Zuko starts shooting flames at Aang to "teach him a lesson", clearly showing he still wants to solve his problems with violence.

Why do the same shippers (mostly women) who hate Aang for EIP, love Zuko?

Okay, a few corrections:

1 - Aang didn't kiss Katara out of entitlement. He misjudged the moment. They were talking about feelings and Katara said both "I don't see you as just a friend" and "I don't think we should date right now." Aang, a 12-year-old, was confused by that, thought he could make things clearer by kissing her since they've both enjoyed the two previous times they kissed. That was a really bad move, upset Katara, and he kicked himself for it. Would an apology be nice? Yes. Was this a forced conflict for cheap drama? Yes. But it's not the same as Aang grabbing Katara and forcing a kiss on her while she's struggling to get away from him and telling him "NO" loud and clear.

2 - While Mai did nothing wrong and looked bored as hell whenever that guy came up to her, he WAS into her and disregarding the fact that she had a boyfriend. That's a dick move, and even though Zuko should not have escalated things to physical violence, nor blamed his girlfriend, he had every right to be mad at that guy.

3 - Zuko absolutely did NOT say that his abuse was more important than Mai's feelings. They're arguing about his behavior and how he's more irritable and impatient than usual, to which Zuko reminds her of the obvious fact that it's kinda hard to NOT be like that every now and then considering what he went through - to which Mai reminds him that it being understandable doesn't make it okay, and Zuko eventually admits that the REAL source of his anger is the fact that he no longer knows what right and wrong mean to him anymore and that's stressing him the fuck out. VERY different from "My life sucked, I get to make it your problem"

4 - While Zuko did not apologize for how he acted, we see in the following episodes that he is being a good boyfriend to Mai and he explicitly tells the Gaang that he doesn't want to keep relying on anger anymore. Apologies are nice and can be very important, but an actual change in behavior is what makes it mean anything.

5 - I do feel that the moment of Zuko attacking the Gaang in the finale to "make them take the war seriously" was very forced, but even if I were to take it as just Zuko being Zuko - by the end of the story he's clearly happy that Aang managed to solve things without violence, is proud of him for it, and even says that he believes OZAI could maybe change into a better person someday. If that isn't growth I don't know what is.

As for your actual question: They don't actually hate Aang and love Zuko for anything they did/did not do. They just think Zuko is hot, thought the show would pander to them with zutara, and when it didnt they lashed out and used pseudo-feminist points to go "Aang bad, Zuko good" to cover up a childish tantrum.

[bruh-changbin]

ivy league

pairing: uni boyfriend!hyunjin x afab reader

genre: fluff + smut (minors dni)

warnings: fingering (f receiving), public sex, lowkey exhibitionism, oral sex (m receiving), snowballing (tis’ the season), little bit of cum eating, unprotected sex (be safe), piv, creampie, tit sucking, both are kinda switches?, alcohol consumption

word count: 5.8K

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR MOFOS!!! my new years resolution is to find out why hyunjin is so fucking hard to write for 😻 maybe it’s bc his personality is kinda all over the place or maybe i just suck but anyways i hope i did him justice. (also for the sake of this fic pls pretend he still has long brown hair bc that was my fav look on him ever)i do apologize as this was supposed to be posted right after new years but i have been a busy busy gal as of late. nevertheless, i hope you enjoy (also apologies if this posts weird tumblr is being A MAJOR PAIN IN THE ASS AS I TRY TO EDIT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

photos not mine, credit to original owners (retrieved from pinterest)

studying away from home was always a dream of yours. there’s something so enticing about living and learning in a new city that piques your interest. when you got an acceptance letter from an ivy league school a few hours away from your hometown, you didn’t think twice before enrolling. 

only then did you find out that 90% of the student body at ivy league schools - or any high status campus, really - are insufferable. there are wannabe jane austen’s and christopher nolan’s at every turn, griping about how getting a 98% on their most recent paper just isn’t good enough (news flash: it is). 

ergo, every time you’ve tried to befriend someone you met in the student centre or library or in one of your lectures you’ve discovered they’re too obsessed with their status to even hold a proper conversation with you. there’s only one person who makes studying here at least somewhat bearable: hwang hyunjin.

you met hyunjin in september, a mere 2 days before classes were set to begin for the fall semester. it was somewhat unfortunate, your first encounter, seeing as it entailed you spilling your iced french vanilla all over hyunjin’s silky white button up top. you were trying to shove your wallet back into your bag as you left a coffee shop and he was enthralled in his phone, both of you too distracted to notice the other before colliding. 

you both apologized profusely, you for being careless and him for being in the way (he wasn’t) until you insisted he came to your apartment to get cleaned up since it’s only a 3 minute walk away, i feel horrible for ruining your clothes. 

he complied, and you led him to your small studio apartment, giving him some privacy to shower and steal whatever clothes in your closet that fit him. 

when he stepped out of your bathroom, hair still damp and skin glowing, the rounds of i’m so sorry’s started up again as you handed him back his shirt, now with a large coffee stain on the chest that even your tide pen couldn’t tackle. he grabbed his shirt before chuckling, revealing that he too was a frequent customer of the cafe you were at and often opted to go there instead of indulging in the overpriced shit they sell on campus. 

upon discovering that you were both students at the same university you got to talking, which led to hyunjin staying for dinner at your place, which led to an impromptu make-out session on your second-hand couch. when you made it known that you wanted to take things further, he initially declined because hey, i’m not that kind of guy. in the end he couldn’t keep his hands off of you and you were more than happy to lead him down the hallway to your bedroom. 

soon after he had you writhing under your cotton bed sheets while making you cum on his tongue… and his fingers and his cock. his shaggy, shoulder length mocha hair felt like silk in between your fingers and the whines and whimpers he let out when you tugged on it sounded like heaven.

so, your first encounter with hyunjin was a catastrophe turned fuck session turned we should do this again sometime…

now it’s the heart of winter and you’re about to sock your boyfriend in the jaw when you see him leaning against the brick exterior of your lecture hall, the tips of his ears stained cherry red and his breath passing his lips in the form of a cloud.

“hyunjin i told you to stop waiting for me outside of my lecture hall’s, you’re seriously gonna get frostbite!” you emphasize by pinching his frozen ears - he winces.

“what happened to hello? how are you?” he complains before slipping his hand into the pocket of your puffer jacket and intertwining his fingers with yours; his hands are so cold you flinch.

“well sorry i don’t want you to get sick,” you roll your eyes while shoving your headphones into your tote bag, not needing them now that hyunjin has graced you with his presence, “and you know that class always puts me in a bad mood.”

“ahh yes that’s the one with the, what was it, douchey prof and even douchier students, right?”

“that’s the one.” you sniffle, nose going numb from the cold wind biting at your face as you let hyunjin drag you across campus to god knows where.

“well turn that frown upside down, i’m about to treat you to the most romantic study date ever,” hyunjin asserts while pulling you in the direction of the student lounge, careful not to walk too quickly so you don’t slip on the ice hidden underneath the blanket of snow on the ground.

although the trek from your lecture hall to the student common room is quite short, only subjecting you to the outside weather conditions for a mere minute or two, you rejoice when you step inside and regain shelter from the cold. a blast of hot air greets you and hyunjin shakes the snow off of his perfectly styled hair, retracting his hand from your jacket pocket.

the two of you make your way down the corridor before waltzing into the main study area of the student lounge, seating yourself on a worn in brown leather couch. 

once your winter jacket is discarded you pull your textbook out of your bag, using your peripherals to watch hyunjin pull out his laptop and begin editing photos for his photography class.

it’s serene; watching the snow fall through the window to your left, feeling the warmth radiating from hyunjin who’s sitting to your right. the feeling of hyunjin’s hand (which is still quite cold) on your knee comforts you and you immerse yourself in the words of your textbook, wanting to catch up on the chapters you were supposed to read for this week but didn’t have the time or patience to.

alas, you should’ve known that hyunjin had… other intentions when he said he was taking you on the most romantic study date ever. it only takes a few minutes before you feel his hand inching its way up your leg. 

his eager fingers dance across your thigh before groping your pelvis, causing you to clamp your legs shut in surprise, trapping your boyfriend’s hand in between them.

“are you fucking kidding me hyunjin? we’re in public…”

hyunjin scans the vicinity of the student lounge, which, admittedly, there are only two other students present, both so absorbed in their respective textbooks that they’re practically drooling. but that doesn’t mean you’re about to let him finger bang you in a public area in front of your fellow students. 

“what, you don’t wanna show everyone how well you take my fingers?” by now his index and middle fingers are playing with the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to give the go ahead before dipping underneath.

“come on, let me play with you.”

try as you may, you can’t resist the twisting of your stomach and the pitter-patter of your heart at hyunjin’s words. by now your pussy is leaking indefinitely and you shift in your spot in a pathetic attempt to alleviate the dull throbbing you feel in your pelvis.  

the more you squirm the more pressure you feel from hyunjin’s hand trapped in between your thighs, the heel of his palm pushing against your cunt that’s becoming more sensitive by the second. 

a pleasure induced haze clouds your brain and soon enough you’ve convinced yourself that hyunjin fingering you in the student lounge is in fact a good idea. it’s not like anyone can see you, right? you’re sandwiched between the wall and hyunjin, who’s broad shoulders block you from the curious gaze of others - no one would be the wiser. 

with a bashful look on your face you ease your legs open, granting hyunjin access to your sticky panties and aching clit. the dexterity in which hyunjin’s hand pushes past your waistband and into the dripping folds of your cunt almost gives you whiplash.  

like the little bitch he is he teases you for several moments, the tip of his index finger drawing lazy circles around your clit before gliding down to your hole and then back up again, never giving you what you actually want. 

you know hyunjin’s enjoying watching you twitch and shift in your seat as he plays with your cunt; even more so does he enjoy watching you bite back a frustrated whine when he pulls his hand from you entirely, takes a second to coat his digits in his own saliva by sucking on them, and shove his hand back down your pants.

with help from hyunjin’s makeshift lube his slender spit-covered fingers slip inside of you with little resistance, causing your stomach to flutter and churn. the stretch is subtle yet pleasurable and your body automatically folds in on itself: head hung low, knees knocking together, back hunched. 

if anyone were to walk by they would hopefully assume that you’re just worn out from the end of semester stress and not clue in on the fact that your boyfriend is knuckle deep in your pussy. 

hyunjin starts with small movements, his finger gliding in and out of you slowly while curling upwards in a ��come-hither’ type motion. he’s trying to make his movements as undetectable as possible, struggling against your tight cunt that sucks him in with each and every thrust of his fingers. 

lucky for you your lover was blessed with long fingers, ones that reach so deep inside of you with so little effort that it makes the room spin. little shocks rock your body when hyunjin fully sheathes his index and middle fingers inside of you, the cold metal of the rings adorning his fingers a stark contrast to your hot wet pussy.

the pace of hyunjin’s fingers quickens; your bottom lip stings from how hard you’re biting down on it. your breath leaves you in the form of forced exhales through your nose, the urge to say fuck it and moan aloud for all of your peers to hear becoming almost irresistible and you pray that hyunjin’s going to make you finish before you do something you’ll regret. 

hyunjin pushes his fingers impossibly deeper into you, the heel of his palm now providing the most delicious friction on your neglected clit. you resist the urge to grind your hips against his hand. 

“are you close?” hyunjin whispers, his plush lips caressing the shell of your ear and sending shivers down your spine. how long has his face been that close to yours? you think, but you’re too out of it to turn your thoughts into words. you just nod frantically, eyes rolling backwards as your impending orgasm looms closer and closer.

the sensation of hyunjin’s fingers pistoning in and of you and his palm bumping your clit is enough to quickly send you over the edge, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you can taste the metallic tang of blood against your tongue. 

you cream all over his fingers while sucking in a breath so big it hurts your lungs so as to prevent yourself from making any noise. the grip you have on hyunjins wrist goes limp and you wince as he pulls his fingers from you, placing a chaste kiss on your temple as if to say i’m proud of you. 

with that hyunjin casually sucks your wetness from his fingers, briefly wiping them on his pants before returning to editing his photos on his laptop. you struggle to regain your focus on the textbook splayed out in front of you, the pages swimming before your eyes as the pleasure in the pit of your stomach slowly subsides.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“i still don’t understand why you were so adamant about using my kitchen to bake instead of yours.”

hyunjin glances up from his phone at your words, his pupils so dark they remind you of tapioca pearls. 

“i live with three frat guys, my kitchen is a biohazard.”

ah yes, that’s right. hyunjin’s roommates, although very nice guys who treat you with respect, are frat guys nonetheless. chan is the cleanest of them all, although that's mostly due to him eating out the majority of the time. changbin and jisung however…

you raise your hands in defence, shuddering at the thought of the army of glasses filled with stale protein shakes that greeted you the last time you ventured into hyunjin’s apartment.

upon seeing you wash your hands in preparation for baking hyunjin joins you behind the kitchen counter. his ring-clad fingers roll up the sleeves of his white long sleeve top before tucking the stray hairs in front of his face behind his ears. 

“alright, what are we baking?” he says with his game-face on.

“i was thinking we could do gingerbread… you know, since it’s the holidays.” you begin to search for a recipe on your phone.

hyunjin makes a sour face at this: lips puckered, brows furrowed, eyelids lowered. dramatic. “i don’t like gingerbread,” he states.

“oh? why not?”

“it’s too spicy.”

this motherfucker…

“...spicy? what are you, twelve?”

“i have a sensitive palate!” your boyfriend whines like a toddler. 

“shut the fuck up hwang, we’re making gingerbread.”

hyunjin hangs his head in defeat while you trifle through your cupboards for the proper ingredients. soon enough a small pile is formed on your countertop and you begin sorting everything in order to start baking. a slender hand caresses your lower back and you jump slightly.

“you know it kinda turns me on when you’re all authoritative like that…”

of course. leave it to hyunjin to get horny at literally any hour of the day. 

“you’re insufferable. does hyunjin jr. ever take a day off?”

hyunjin scoffs, “he does, actually. remember the day you were so swamped with the paper you were writing and me, being the best boyfriend ever, had the decency to not try to get in your pants so you could focus?”

“wow, so chivalrous.”

hyunjin playfully shoves your head and then pats your hair as if to assure you his teasing is all in good fun (you know it is).

for someone who was so adamant about baking for the holidays, hyunjin is incredibly inept in the kitchen. first he adds baking powder to the mixing bowl instead of baking soda, then proceeds to knock over your precious bottle of pure vanilla extract, followed by him getting molasses on his tongue and wailing in disgust because it tastes like straight ass! this is all tied together by him spilling flour all over your countertops because why the fuck not. 

“remind me to never allow you to have access to my kitchen ever again,” you huff in frustration while rolling out your batter, a thin layer of sweat forming on your upper lip.

“why? I’m having fun… are you not having fun?” a cheeky grin is plastered across his face as he places his hand on the flour-covered counter before smacking your ass so hard you shriek. whipping your head around, you gape at the perfect flour handprint imprinted on the seat of your favourite pair of pants. 

“WHAT THE FUCK HYUNJIN!!???” you shove his chest before frantically dusting the flour off of your rear. hyunjin can’t seem to control his laughter.

“payback!” he says cheerily while wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt. by now the smell and taste of flour has filled the air of your kitchen. 

“payback for what you dipshit??”

he smiles, “for when you spilled coffee on my shirt.”

“are you fucking kidding me hwang? that was like four months ago!” you return to kneading the dough in front of you, although now you do so with much more aggression, “need i remind you that the coffee incident is how we met in the first place?”

“i knowww~” his palm glides across your upper back in a soothing motion before he rests his chin your your shoulder, “i’m just teasing.”

you bite back a smile before glancing at hyunjin perched on your shoulder, his squishy cheeks matching the soft gaze of his eyes. domestic bliss. you continue to knead the dough in front of you until it’s ready to be rolled out.

when you turn to look at hyunjin again he’s leaning into you even more, pink lips puckered slightly and eyelids closed causing his lashes to grace the tops of his cheeks.

you throw flour in his face.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it’s new years eve and you don’t know what to wear.

“just throw on something skimpy and call it a day,” jeongin says through the speaker of your phone, “you’re supposed to be here in like an hour, remember?”

“i can get ready in an hour,” you respond while holding various garments up to your body and gazing at your reflection in the mirror. so many options, so little time.

“i don’t know about that y/n, remember halloween?”

you do remember halloween. more specifically, you remember jeongin whining and bitching for the entirety of the two and a half hours it took for you to transform yourself into ty lee from avatar: the last airbender. it was worth it though, you looked exactly like her. 

“come on, that was a one time thing. i’ll be at your place on time!” you whine while tossing an unworthy crop top onto the pile of clothes on your floor that’s steadily increasing.

“i don’t know y/n you’re pretty indecisive and-” you hang up on him, not wanting to hear him bitch and whine about your inability to make even the most minuscule decisions. 

it takes you half an hour to choose the perfect outfit, and then another half hour to do your makeup and hair, followed by a fifteen minute stare-down with your reflection in the mirror as you question everything. is this really the best look i can come up with? your head hurts and you haven’t even started drinking yet. 

“y/n~” hyunjin whines from his place in the living room, “are you almost ready?”

you give him a half-assed yea before exiting your bedroom, giving yourself and your outfit one final check in the mirror.

in preparation for tonight’s celebration you helped hyunjin bleach and dye his hair a shade of icy blue last night, almost permanently damaging his bathroom sink and counter in the process. his now cerulean mane matches the blue of his denim jacket that has an eye-catching collar lined with fluffy white fur (faux of course - no animal cruelty here). his pants are denim as well, a quintessential canadian tuxedo, and just a hint of silver glitter is detectable on his eyelids. you could eat him right the fuck up. 

“you look cute,” you purr before waltzing over to your boyfriend and standing in front of where he’s sat on the couch.

“as do you,” his eyes scan your body, “the five hours it took you to get ready paid off.”

“i did not take five hours to get ready hwang, you’re just impatient.” you pat his leg as if to say get off your ass, it’s time to go, prompting him to push himself off of his couch and over to the coat rack by his front door.

“this coat totally clashes with my outfit,” you complain as you pull on your thick puffer jacket.

hyunjin feigns sympathy, “it’s either that or you freeze. come on, chan’s wondering why we’re not there yet.”

hyunjin all but yanks you out the door, locking it behind him before the two of you step onto the bustling city streets that are teeming with people searching for a place to drink and celebrate. 

arriving at jeongin’s a mere couple of hours before midnight, you rid yourself of your chunky winter coat and start to mingle with the rest of the crowd. hyunjin, despite knowing more people at the party than you, stands behind you like a lost baby sheep for the entire night, waiting for you to loop him into whatever conversation you’re having. 

you briefly speak with jeongin, who teases you for arriving late (how he managed to spot you and hyunjin sneaking in later than you said you would arrive is beyond you) and then encourages you to get a drink and ‘let loose’.

in the kitchen you help yourself to whatever alcohol you can find - most of the selection isn’t to your liking and you regret not bringing your own drinks from home. nevertheless, you force some pathetic margarita mix down your throat before spotting hyunjin’s roommates, chan, changbin and jisung, in the crowd and heading over to converse with them.

time seems to fly by and soon enough there are only a few minutes left until it’s time to ring in the new year. someone, most likely felix, blasts madonna through the speakers and a livestream of the new york ball drop is displayed on the tv in the living room.

“y/n?” 

“yes hyunjin?”

he hesitates, starry eyes looking everywhere but your own, “will you be my new year’s kiss?”

you stifle a laugh; the poor boy looks like he’s about to puke after asking you that so you try your best to play nice.

“of course i will.” you caress your boyfriend's cheek ever so gently, his cheeks turning rosy and flushed as you do so.

around you the cheers from the other partygoers have increased as the countdown displayed on the tv hits the thirty second mark. as the ball descends on the screen your fingers reach for hyunjin, grasping his wrist in excitement as the two of you start to countdown alongside everyone else.

“3….2….1….HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!”

as soon as the clock strikes midnight hyunjin’s pillowy pink lips are attached to yours, capturing you in a heartfelt kiss to celebrate the ending of an old year and beginning of a new one. it would be a crime not to reciprocate so you do, only pulling away when you hear jeongin start to make gagging noises at the two of you over everyone else's cheers. 

felix jumps onto the couch and changbin uncorks a bottle of pommery cuvée louise with a celebratory pop! 

before you can approach changbin and ask for a glass of champagne that he splurged on for the special occasion, you’re being dragged down the hallway. away from the music and cheering and people and into a dark, empty bedroom; based on the decor you assume it’s felix’s.

the metallic click of a door being shut and locked echoes throughout the empty room and when you turn to face hyunjin pursues you again. away from the curious gazes of bystanders he kisses you with unrestrained passion and lust - a kiss that isn’t just a simple display of affection but a kiss that says i want this to lead to something more. 

in the confines of this empty bedroom you allow yourself to melt into his lips, his touch. you inhale his scent and push your tongue past his teeth and into his mouth, tasting a hint of the miller lite he was sipping on earlier on his tongue. with ease hyunjin makes his way down your jaw and to your neck, placing affectionate open mouth kisses against the sensitive skin of your throat. occasionally you feel his canines nip you before his tongue glides over your skin.

“i’ve been wanting to be alone with you since we left the apartment,” hyunjin admits sheepishly, the ends of his hair tickling your ear.

“is that why you spent the entire night hiding behind me?”

like a deer in headlights, hyunjin freezes, “maybe…” you can feel his lips curl into a small smile from where they’re attached to your neck.

not wanting to waste any more time you shove hyunjin off of you, your hands grasping the collar of his denim jacket before dragging it down his shoulders and arms, followed by his shirt. hyunjin follows suit and moves to unbutton his jeans, pulling them down his thick thighs. now he stands in front of you wearing only his briefs, his hard cock straining against the material, the glow from the moon painting his skin a cool shade of blue.

when you step closer to him you can feel his breath fan across your face, watch his eyes swim with curiosity and enamourment, see his chest rise and fall with each and every shaky breath. your fingertips hook into the elastic waistband of his briefs, yanking them down and letting them pool at his ankles before gently guiding him to sit on the bed behind him.

now that hyunjin’s seated you move to kneel in front of him, kissing your way down the soft milky skin of his abs and around his belly button and the insides of his thighs. his cock stands fully erect, and you lick your lips before getting yourself ready to suck him off. 

when you first fucked hyunjin all those months ago you were taken aback at how perfect his cock was. not to sound cliche, but it felt as if the two of you were destined to be together with how well he fit inside of your cunt and down your throat. now, you admire him once again before licking him from base to tip.

time is of the essence you think before taking his length in your hot mouth.

over the course of time you’ve spent dating and fucking hyunjin you’ve discovered that he’s very sensitive… and very vocal. as soon as his cock is in your mouth he’s struggling to keep quiet, the veins on his neck tensing and his knuckles white as he grips the bedsheets underneath him. it’s not like anyone would hear him lest they be pressed up right against the bedroom door, but still, he tries his best to preserve at least a little bit of his dignity. 

for the sake of your throat you wrap your hand around the base of hyunjin’s dick, opting to jerk what you can’t comfortably fit in your mouth. the soft muscle of your tongue expertly wraps around his length as you begin to bob your head, starting off slow so you don’t overwhelm hyunjin (who already seems to be going into sensory overload). 

the movements of your hand are in tandem with those of your mouth, the nails that you got done for new years looking so perfect wrapped around his sensitive cock. small beads of sweat begin to form on your temple as you continue to work hyunjin to his release, not wanting to stop until he’s satisfied. your knees are already starting to ache from being pressed against the cold, hard floor but you pay the discomfort no mind.

above you, hyunjin’s struggling to keep himself under control. he’s been on edge all evening, and now that you’re having your way with him he can’t quite contain his delectation. surely there are other people fucking at this party right now, right? what does it matter if he makes a bit of noise?

fuck dignity, he wants to let you know how good you’re making him feel. 

hyunjin’s bottom lip throbs in relief when he releases it from his teeth, allowing his head to fall back while groans of pleasure shamelessly tumble from his mouth. 

your ears strain to block out the noises from the ongoing party so you can hyperfocus on every single sound that passes hyunjin’s lips. your lips wrap around his length like a glove, providing him with the most perfect amount of friction. you pick up the pace in order to get him there faster, ignoring the slight cramping in your wrist.

“y/n i-” one of his hands lets go of the duvet and wraps around the back of your head, “i think i’m gonna-” he cuts himself off with a cry of desperation. 

with reluctance you pull your lips off of his cock, continuing to jerk him with your mouth agape and tongue sticking out. with a needy, high-pitched moan that he does nothing to try to suppress, hyunjin pumps his load into your waiting mouth.

his cum is pure and white like the snow falling softly outside of the bedroom window. it sits hot and heavy on your tongue as you rise from your spot on the floor, watching with hungry eyes as hyunjin’s pink-stained chest heaves sighs of pleasure before you press your lips to his. both of your mouths open automatically, his tongue slipping past your teeth allowing him to taste himself. your tongues swap semen and saliva and you reluctantly pull away when you need to swallow and regain your breath.

the view of hyunjin panting and covered in a sheen of sweat, his own cum seeping from the corners of his mouth, is a sight to behold. you’ve never laid eyes on anything so sinful yet so holy and beautiful at the same time - your panties become unbearably wet. 

hyunjin stares at you with eagle eyes as you rid yourself of your clothing, tossing each garment on top of his so a small pile is formed on the floor. 

in one swift move you’re on top of him, knees digging into the firm mattress on either side of his bony hips. without saying a word you line his cock, that’s already semi-hard again, up with the soaked hole of your pussy before sinking down his shaft. the two of you whine and groan into eachothers mouths at the sensation, and you still when your hips are flush with his. 

“i don’t… i don’t think i’m gonna last long,” hyunjin whines so pathetically you go weak in the knees. ugh! you wanna lick him all over. 

“that’s okay,” you coo while running your fingers through his hair, “just want you to feel good.”

grasping his shoulders for stability, you temptingly grind your pelvis against his. the tip of his cock is nestled deep inside of you that it makes you feel so unbelievably full and content. it’s moments like these where you wish to be consumed by hyunjin, wish to hold him and be in his hold forever and ever. 

the slick, wet sounds of you fucking hyunjin raw fill the room, your cunt sucking him deeper and deeper with each and every roll of your hips. your vision goes blurry when he attaches his soft lips to your breast, switching between sucking on it gently and using his tongue to tease your sensitive nipple.

the soft whimpers and please go faster’s that your boyfriend emits encourage you to pick up the pace, your hip bones knocking against his with each gyration. by now your clit is begging for attention so you lower your hand to press quick, somewhat careless circles into it, hissing at the pleasure it provides. 

the need to cum begins to creep its way into your senses: your vision becomes spotted and blurry, your legs begin to quiver and shake, the pit in your lower abdomen grows bigger and bigger threatening to swallow you whole. hyunjin continues to sloppily suck on your tit, the sensation going straight to your aching cunt.

no words need to be exchanged in order for each of you to know that the other is close. it’s evident in the way your movements become more frantic desperate and in the way hyunjin’s blunt nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, his jaw going slack against your breast. 

a few more movements and you reach your orgasm, muffling a lewd and graphic moan by biting down on hyunjin’s shoulder. for several moments it feels as if you’re on cloud nine. sparks fly behind your closed eyelids and the ringing in your eyes is loud enough to block out the sound of the party (which you almost forgot about) but not the increasingly loud moans coming from hyunjin.  you can hear and feel him cumming a few seconds after you, his stomach tensing as he cries out for you.

he spills his seed inside of you and you shudder, feeling incredibly warm and worn out. 

with limbs feeling like lead, you lift yourself off of hyunjin before collapsing onto the mattress, the duvet cover immediately clinging to your back that’s damp with sweat. you feel hyunjin’s cum slowly begin to seep out of you and you cringe, knowing that you’re going to have to explain and apologize to felix (or whoever the owner of this room is).

beside you, hyunjin works to get his breathing back under control, his eyes closed with a blissed-out expression on his face.

“i don’t wanna get up,” he whispers into the dark room.

“so don’t.”

the two of you lie there, basking in the post-orgasm bliss that  puts you on the verge of sleep. the room smells of sex and sweat and you can’t help the small smile that makes its way onto your face, knowing that there’s no other way you’d rather spend ringing in the new year. 

you hear him moving before you feel his touch. the soft tips of his fingers caress your clammy palms before intertwining with yours, an affectionate move that has your cheeks flushing and makes you wonder how did i get so god damn lucky?

if it weren’t for hyunjin your ivy league studies would be filled with empty days and empty nights. you somehow managed to find solace in a sensitive, 5’10” boy who teases you and then whines when you tease him back. on days where the cold seems to be unbearable he keeps you warm with his skin on your skin, his lips on your lips, his heart to your heart. 

without him you’d be stuck at a prestigious school filled with prestigious people pursuing a prestigious degree that you’re not sure you even like, yet he somehow makes you forget all of that. 

and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[themculibrary]

Stucky Halloween Fics Masterlist

a day in the life (ao3) - powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst) E, 20k

Summary: Steve Rogers wakes up on Tuesday October 30 1956, and doesn’t seem to remember his life that well. Why does every day feel so familiar? And why does he keep getting visited by tall, dark, handsome men who remind him of Bucky?

A Halloween Miracle (ao3) - Oh_i_swear T, 5k

Summary: As he stands on the doorstep of his sister’s house, Bucky sighs. It’s Hallowe’en night and he could be anywhere right now… but ideally he’d be inside of his tiny apartment ordering a pizza, watching horror movies and ignoring the world. He wouldn’t be standing here in a Captain America costume waiting to take his niece and nephew trick or treating.

At First Scream (ao3) - SmutConnoisseur E, 5k

Summary: He didn’t have Samhainophobia. He didn’t.

Because Bucky wasn’t afraid of the holiday, he just hated haunted houses and being scared shitless. That’s a common thing.

But when his best friend drags him to a haunted manor experience on a cloudy Halloween night, Bucky feels his heart race— and his gut clench from something more than jump scares.

Blood sucking squatters (ao3) - Just_Bill G, 8k

Summary: When Steve inherits a house from his estranged great aunt he doesn’t know what to expect. Not the creepy mansion which seems to come straight from a Lovecraft book. Nor the fact that it’s not as uninhabited as he thought it was.

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater (ao3) - odetteandodile T, 7k

Summary: Bucky’s first impression of the tall, hot blonde guy is that he’s the only other person at Clint’s Halloween party who looks as awkward as Bucky feels.

His second impression is that the guy is about to cheat at a dumb game to avoid watching a scary movie.

As for third impressions and beyond? Well, things start looking up from there…

Could A Sexy Vampire Ever Love A Hipster Werewolf? (ao3) - perfect_plan M, 12k

Summary: Steve Rogers tries to manage coming out, avoiding the school bully and being in love with his best friend.

Emperor’s New Clothes (ao3) - IllusiveBirds T, 3k

Summary: ‘You’re going to be at the Halloween party and you’ve won best costume for the past three years but this year I am wearing the best costume ever if you defeat me I will eat my - wait you actually look really cute when did you turn hot what the fuck um’ AU.

Steve is determined; no he is fucking resolute, that this will be the year that he wins best costume at Tony’s Halloween party. He has been planning this costume out since July, okay and he will not let James Barnes win another year. No way or he’ll eat his own helmet.

I especially am slow (ao3) - bangyababy T, 5k

Summary: Steve’s been in love with Bucky his whole life, but he’s never told him and that was okay, Steve was fine. Until Bucky announced that this year he’d be doing a couples costume with his new boyfriend Ryan.

Jack-o-Lanterns and Kittens (ao3) - captain_wintersoldier T, 9k

Summary: Steve works at a Coffee shop. Cue attractive customer named Bucky Barnes. Steve falls in love and ends up embarrassing himself, but scoring a date anyway. Yay relationships.

Mighty Morphin Captain America (ao3) - 74days T, 4k

Summary: Bucky Barnes is sitting outside of a haunted house because he’s to scared to go inside - and meets the worlds most hilarious Mighty Morphin Power Ranger. It’s just a shame he’s got no idea what the guy looks like.

Sharp Like My Love (ao3) - mikazure E, 3k

Summary: Steve and Bucky carve pumpkins for Halloween, it’s hard to focus on the task though, when Bucky’s showing off his impressive knife skills

sometimes dead is better (ao3) - aniloquent N/R, 3k

Summary: “You hate scary movies,” his mom says.

“You’re literally Netflix and chilling,” Becca says.

“You’re not sleeping in our bed tonight,” his dad says.

Bucky throw his hands up. “We’re just hanging out!”

Bucky’s dad grunts, unconvinced. “Take a condom.” He hesitates, glancing over at Bucky but not registering the horrified look on his face. “Or two. Steve plays football. Kid’s got stamina.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky breathes, eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

The Asset and Halloween (ao3) - Introvertatheart G, 6k

Summary: It’s Bucky first Halloween with the Avengers. As usual, he doesn’t understand Halloween. So when Tony invites him and Steve to the annual Halloween party, things get interesting.

The First Encounter (ao3) - sunrow T, 2k

Summary: Instead of Tony throwing a huge Halloween party, the Avengers have planned a truly horrifying haunted house experience, all in the hopes of scaring Steve and Bucky into revealing their hidden feelings for each other. But not everything goes according to plan.

Or, the Avengers don’t realize Steve and Bucky are already in a relationship, and think they need to help them get together.

the only john wayne left in this town (ao3) - lisainthesky, toookish E, 3k

Summary: The M&M hits the floor and rolls under the fridge, but he doesn’t really notice.

Steve’s peeking out from under the wide brim of his cowboy hat, a blush spreading across his cheekbones. Always so shy, even when Bucky’s staring at him with his mouth open like an idiot, even when he’s trying to be sexy, leaning against the wall like that with his thumbs in his pockets and his hips cocked.

Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me (I Wanna Be Dirty) (ao3) - OhCaptainMyCaptain steve/bucky E, 11k

Summary: (And Bucky is none-the-wiser, until he stumbles into a screening and sees his supposedly self-conscious boyfriend strut onto the stage in a corset, fishnet stocking, and tap dancing shoes.)

—

On stage, Steve owned that outfit like he’d been fucking born in it. All self-consciousness he’d previously shown in his body was non-existent, as he strutted around with his hands on his waist like a model on some sort of catwalk; popped his hips from side to side and gave these playful, almost sinister-looking grins to the cast and the rest of the crowd. It was so unexpected, but there was also something sexy about seeing Steve up there, acting like that. It was like some free-spirited sex kitten had possessed him or something. Goddamn it, it had Bucky fucking confused.

trick or treat (ao3) - liionne T, 2k

Summary: Bucky, Steve and Nat go to Sam’s for Halloween, to watch some movies, pig out a little, have a few drinks— and end up babysitting Sam’s nephews and niece.

Trick or Treating with the Avengers (ao3) - Writerofthelorde G, 14k

Summary: Post Winter soldier. Bucky has been with the Avengers for a couple months now. Steve has been trying to help him through everything. It’s halloween and the Avengers all go trick or treating. Bucky is wearing his army suit from back in the day and it’s making Steve fall in love with him all over again. Awkward moments and a ton of emotions follow.

Tricks and Treats (ao3) - Somerandomauthorrr N/R, 2k

Summary: Steve loves the Halloween season. Bucky does not.

We Got A Lovin’ Thing (ao3) - MacksDramaticShenanigans G, 6k

Summary: Steve’s trying to think of a good response that doesn’t make him sound pathetic in front of Brock when a flash of leather catches his eyes. His Sandy. The man is only a few feet away, and before Steve can think his actions through he’s striding towards the man and sliding an arm around his waist, pulling him into his side.

Sandy looks like he’s about to say something— probably ask who the hell Steve is and what he’s doing, which would blow the lid off of Steve’s lie. Brock doesn’t need more to taunt him about.

So Steve does what any normal person would do. He pulls Sandy in by the waist and leans in to lay one on him.

[katyawriteswhump]

364 days later (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 30/31 prompt, New Year's Eve/Resolutions I AM SO SAD IT IS NEARLY OVER!!!!

When Steve is hurt on New Year’s Eve, he discovers there’s only one person he can truly go home to.

WC: 918 Rating: T CW: off-screen/pre-fic violence including domestic violence. Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff. Established steddie.

Also part of my steve whump fic series (mainly steddie) on ao3

***

“I hadn’t a clue where else to go,” says Steve, an odd tremor in his voice. 

Steve hadn’t knocked, hadn’t announced his arrival. Eddie simply opened the trailer door and found him. God knows how long he’s been standing at the bottom of the steps, cradling one arm in the other. It’s dark, but it’s screamingly obvious something’s wrong. Steve’s hair is kinda ruffled for starters. 

“I mean, yeah, we have a date later,” Steve rambles, “being New Years Eve and all that crap, and… uh…”

Holy shit! Eddie jumps down to him, freaking out big-time. Blood smears one side of Steve’s face, his lip is bruised, and his harsh breaths cloud the icy air. Eddie wants to hug him tight; instead, he briefly clams up, super-terrified. He’s never seen anybody so robust appear so… brittle.

Gently, he cups the uninjured side of Steve’s face, curves an arm around him. “What the hell happened?”

“I did it, man. Finally. My dad… I, um…”

“Your dad did this?”

“He wishes,” Steve says, snarky.

Eddie seriously can’t fathom whether he’s lying: “Who else, man?”

“Got jumped leaving work, and I… I…” Steve’s wretched laugh crumbles into an even more wretched whimper. Eddie catches him, as his knees buckle.

“Okay, big guy, I gotcha.”

He bundles him inside, sits him on the couch. Steve stares spacily, hugs his arm, rocks himself. 

Momentarily, Eddie literally flaps. Then he grabs a chilled beer from the fridge, douses a clean cloth in water. He coaxes Steve into holding the can against his swollen wrist, while Eddie dabs the blood from his face.

“Gonna sting,” warns Eddie. Steve hisses. “Sorry, Stevie.”

“It’s fine. Christ, I’m okay.”

“Not buying that BS today. Not sorry.”

Eddie frowns, concentrating hard. The cut, fortunately, has clotted already. He binds Steve’s wrist with a make-shift bandage. Steve mutters about getting kicked a LOT, when he was curled on the ground, shielding his face. Eddie feels sick, soothingly shushes Steve’s gasps of pain. Possibly as much to comfort himself as Steve. “Look, we should get you to the Med—"

“No way. I’ll fix… Listen, I finally did it,” repeats Steve, as his eyes flutter closed.

“Yeah? Did what exactly, Babe?”

 “Carried out my New Year’s resolution.”

***

Steve barely recalls how he got here.

He’d driven around aimlessly. His wrist hurt so bad that he goddamn cried, too far gone to give a shit. He couldn’t think; he was drowning, sucked deep into thick, suffocating waters. Some crazy inner compass drew him to the one place he could pull for the surface.

He found himself outside Eddie’s trailer. Standing there stupidly, hurting and shivering. Not even yelling to be let in. Now, he’s inside and getting warm with Eddie, who asks again what happened.

Crap, does Steve even know?

He honestly couldn’t ID his attackers. Sorta knew why he was attacked, being guilty of so much these days—hanging with geeks, being a king that lost his crown, not to mention his boyfriend being Eddie ‘spawn-of-satan’ Munson.

Then his Dad.

The look he’d given Steve, when Steve arrived home bruised and bloodied. 

“He didn’t need to say it,” says Steve, head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. “It was written all over his smug-ass face. You deserve this.”

He’d yelled his butt off about Steve making trouble. Shoved Steve around a bit, knowing he was in no shape to fight back.

“I told him to stick it. Left with basically nothing. Okay, the car, though that technically belongs to him, and… Shit, where am I gonna go?”

His tardy reality check hits like a baseball bat to the gut. Huddled against Eddie, he’s shaking, breaths hitching, hating himself for it. Eddie wraps his other arm across Steve and holds him. 

Simply holds him.

And yeah, he calms a little.

“Seriously, don’t sweat it,” says Eddie. “You can stay here till you’ve figured stuff out. Forever, if you need.”

Steve glances up, swipes angrily across his damp cheekbone. “Uh, earth to Eddie? Wayne?”

“He’ll cuss under his breath. And love the heck out of you. Already does. What’s one more overgrown brat?”

“C’mon, he’ll—"

“Look, I’m genuinely blown away. It’s New Year’s Eve and you’ve already nailed your resolution.”

Steve buries his face again, and… Woah! He’s laughing. Eddie’s kickass painkillers are working, or… Screw it, life never sucks so bad when he’s with Eddie. 

“Leaving home was last year’s resolution,” he mumbles toward Eddie’s armpit.

“Oh.” Eddie plants a soft kiss on Steve’s hair. 

“Yeeeeah. I’m only, like, 364 days late.”

***

Eddie’s still freaking that he should get Steve better help. However, Steve is a dead weight against him, knee curled in Eddie’s lap, and refuses to budge from the circle of Eddie’s arms.

New Year ticks by, lost in a gentle, lingering kiss. Eddie ghosts his thumb, featherlight, down the uninjured side of Steve’s face. Steve scrunches his good hand tightly in Eddie’s hair, deepening the kiss more passionately than—given Steve’s bruises—Eddie dares.

“Happy New Year, Babe,” whispers Eddie, when they break apart. A sneaky smile plays on Steve’s lips. “What?”

“I hit a winning streak,” says Steve, “I’ve smashed this year’s resolution already.”

“Huh?”

“Do I really have to spell it out, dipshit?”

Fixing deep in Steve’s eyes, Eddie’s grin spreads slowly. Dammit, this was going down as the worst and best New Year ever, and sure as heck the most shamefully sappy:

Oh, I get it. Falling in love.

“Back at ya,” he says, and tumbles forward into another kiss.

[gretahayes]

44 and/or 50 for timkon or platonic timbart?

50. “Nothing is wrong with you.” + platonic timbart

"Rob," Bart starts, and says nothing until Tim hums absently, "what's wrong with me?"

Tim pauses at that. He sets down the case file he'd been working on, and turns in his swivel chair to look at Bart properly.

Bart's on his bed, laid flat on his back with his limbs starfished, and he's staring up at the ceiling. He doesn't look like someone who just asked what's wrong with them.

"...could you run that by me again?"

"I think there's something wrong with me," Bart says, instead of asks. He's resolutely still staring up at the ceiling.

"Okay." This is- Tim did not think he'd have to have this conversation today. He carefully stands and moves to sit next to Bart's leg, then changes his mind and just lies next to him. "Why do you think there's something wrong with you?"

Bart turns his head to blankly stare at Tim for that. Which, fair.

Tim sighs. Bart looks back up at the ceiling. Tim stares up at it too. "Nothing is wrong with you, Bart," he says softly.

"Everyone else says there is," Bart says, quiet. "Max...he didn't say it, but I know he thought it."

"I remember when you didn't doubt me," Tim says, just for the snort Bart gives. "There's nothing wrong with you, you're just different. It's how you are. You weren't built for this world."

"Different sounds like a nicer way of saying wrong."

Tim sighs. "When I first became Robin," Tim starts, and Bart turns to look at him in interest. "I had to get a new cape, because the one the Robins before me had used with no issue made me have a panic attack if I wore it when I didn't have to. The color, the weight, the fabric- it was all wrong. But I liked the feeling of a cape, just not that cape, and it was a Robin staple. So B had a new one made for me."

"Didn't know Batman cared so much."

"He does, he's just got odd ways of showing it," Tim says. "The feeling of satin makes me want to curl up and die. I'm bad at talking to people cause I don't always consider what I'm saying and the implications of it, which can make me sound like an asshole. I self-isolate when I'm spiraling, even though I'm really bad at self-isolating. My brain sometimes moves so fast the rest of me can't keep up, and when around me is loud and hectic, and I'm already worked up, I get overwhelmed which makes me angry and upset."

"Me too," Bart says. "I've got a short fuse when I'm overwhelmed. I lashed out at Jenni when we first met cause I was going through a lot and she wasn't helping, and it wasn't fair to her."

Tim hums. "Sucks, doesn't it?" Bart makes a noise that Tim takes as a yes. "Um, I've got a hard time with boundaries. I lie a lot, but I don't like when people can't just say what they mean in regular conversation instead of making me guess. I go through these periods of obssession with things, and they can last for months, or even years." Tim stops, and asks, "is there something wrong with me?"

"Well...no," Bart says, sounding baffled, and glances at him briefly, "you're just you."

"My point exactly." Tim grabs Bart's hand; squeezes. "You're just you, Bart. Nothing is wrong with you."

Bart squeezes back.

(ask game)

[actiniumwrites]

WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES 12

synopsis: new years parties aren’t really your thing. luckily wriothesley is there to keep you company

characters: wriothesley x gn!reader

wc: 445

warnings: fluff, slight angst, wriothesley being kind of a little shit, reader does not enjoy parties and is very much an overthinker, not proofread

notes: this was supposed to have like 4-5 different characters in it but i hated how their parts turned out and was only able to salvage wriothesely’s. this probably would’ve been better if i had more time but alas work has taken over my life 🥲

It’s freezing when you step out onto the balcony. So cold you can feel your skin being pinched and the sniffles forming in your nose as the seconds pass. Still, it’s better than being suffocated by the air of the party inside.

You only get a grand total of twenty-eight seconds alone.

A familiar voice jests from somewhere behind you, “What? The party not good enough for you?”

You cross your arms over the ledge of the railing, a breathy laugh that shows in the cold air falls from your lips, “Yeah, actually. It sucks.”

Wriothesley snorts as he comes to stand directly next to you, only his back leans against the railing, opposite to the way you’re facing, “Well hey, at least you’re honest.”

You feel his gaze on you and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about. Why he’s even out here wasting his time with you instead of the party inside.

Everyone was having fun except for you. He shouldn’t be forced to endure your suffering too, you think to yourself. New Years is meant for resolutions and finding the positive in the year before the negatives weasel their way into your mind. You’re aware it’s hypocritical given your current situation, but how else were you supposed to feel?

“That should be your resolution.”

“Huh?”

“To stop overthinking,” he clarifies, staring ahead at the see-through glass doors he faces, “You’re wondering why I’m out here, right?”

Your brows furrow as you lift your head from where it was once resting on your crossed arms. Part of you winces from the sudden icy breeze that blows against your face, the other from the shock of being read so easily. You don’t give in, “Go back inside, Wriothesley.”

“Yeah no thanks. I’d rather spend my time with you,” he says, a bright and knowing smile on his face. You hate that he knows how to push your buttons. You also hate that you can never stop yourself from smiling when he smiles too.

“So cheesy,” you mumble so quietly he misses it.

The time flashes brightly on your phone: 12 AM. Despite the glass of the doors being so thick, the sound of cheering makes it through, interrupting your moment of peace. Faint laughter and the sound of the television announcing a happy new year makes you realize you had entirely missed the grand moment you were here for altogether.

You turn to look at Wriothesley only to find his blue eyes already on you. “Happy New Year,” you whisper, leaning a little closer and finally giving into him just like you always did.

“Happy New Year,” Wriothesley says, closing the gap.

[bellemorte180]

Any ship + new years + revenge as a new.years resolution

Lights were shining,blinding and shimmering from the surrounding buildings. The smell of cold air filled her lungs along with the smell of prosecco and the appetizers Caroline smuggled from Elena’s party. She leaned against the rooftop, peering down into the mass of New York City with a scowl on her face. The sound of music and cheering from the party below did not improve her mood. New Year's Eve was meant to be about celebration and new beginnings. 

Not bringing up old wounds. 

She understood that they had a small friend group but did Elena really need to invite Tyler? Sure, it's been a year but seeing Tyler show up with Hayley on his arm didn’t mean the pain wasn’t there. Just because Stefan has gotten over the fact that Damon and Elena slept together, doesn’t mean Caroline could get over being cheated on. 

At least Bonnie is on my side. She thought bitterly and she took a long sip of her prosecco. Bonnie was ready to claw Elena’s eyes out for even inviting them and offered to take Caroline home. However, Caroline is stubborn and petty. She stayed and did everything she could to put on a show of happiness and winning. She was not about to let Tyler think she was hung up on him. She wasn't but the pain was still there.

“I thought I saw you come up here.” A soft English voice called from the doorway. Caroline turned to see Klaus shutting the heavy metal door to the rooftop and pulled his coat tiger around him. Klaus had been an odd addition to their small friend group. Roommates with Stefan in college that turned into a lifelong friendship mingled with the borderline rivalry between him and Tyler. The amount of times Tyler complained when Klaus was at some party or gathering of friends was obnoxious. Caroline never really understood why Tyler hated him. Granted, Klaus could be a massive dick when he wanted to be. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Klaus tossed a dimpled smile at her and made Caroline shiver, sending a wave through her that had nothing to do with the cold. He turned his back on the view and leaned against the rooftop railing. “I’m going to tell you a secret.” Caroline tilted her head to the side and cocked an eyebrow, watching as Klaus’s smirk deepened. “I’m not the biggest fan of Elena.”

“Klaus, that's not a secret. Everyone knows that. I’m actually surprised you were invited tonight.”  

“Oh, I wasn’t. I just showed up with Stefan in hopes of getting under Elena’s skin.” Klaus chuckled and Caroline had to suppress a smile. While Stefan proclaims that he is over the whole Damon and Elena affair issue, Klaus was not about to let that go. Caroline almost admired him for that. “She shouldn’t have invited Tyler tonight. I didn’t know they were still friends after everything.” 

“They aren't but Elena works for Carol so I guess I get it.” She didn’t, not really but drank the last bit of prosecco and watched as Klaus tossed her a disbelieving look. “Okay, I didn’t expect to see him let alone with Hayley. Ugh. Do you know what Elena said when they showed up? That Hayley isn’t that bad. Isn’t that bad? I’m sorry the only thing I know about her is the image of her sucking Tyler off at his company Christmas party. Like if Carol wasn’t the CEO, you know he would have gotten fired for that!”

“Sweetheart, current company aside, Elena has horrible taste in people. She cheated on Stefan with his own brother. Of course she isn’t going to find anything wrong with Hayley or the fact that Tyler had been seeing her behind your back.” Caroline scowled, hating that Klaus was right. Part of her wondered why she continued to be friends with someone like Elena, someone who prioritizes her own wants over that of others, even if it caused them harm. “I have an idea.”

“Coming from you, that's dangerous.”

“Oh it most certainly is.” There was something wicked in his eyes, a heat that pierced through the cold air of a dying December. “Come back to the party and at the stroke of midnight when the countdown ends, I’ll kiss you.” Caroline’s back grew straight and her eyes went wide. “Both Tyler and Elena hate me, so it would definitely start their New Year off on the wrong foot but start yours, and mine, with a bang.” 

“You mean starting New Years off with a revenge kiss? I’m almost afraid to ask what your resolution is.” 

“There are worse resolutions than a revenge kiss, to be honest. At least this one would be easy to stick to, and very enjoyable.” Caroline couldn’t help but smile, butterflies pooling in the pit of her stomach as she peered up at him. He leaned in close, almost close enough to kiss her but just short of it. He reached for her hand, linking their fingers together and rested his forehead against her. “Come back down to the party, Caroline.”

She didn’t say anything, instead allowed him to pull her towards the metal doors that hid the stairwell that led into the apartment building. The countdown was a blur but there was a spark when Klaus’s lips touched hers, something she had never experienced before. The look of hurt and betrayal on Elena’s face and anger on Tyler’s only made it sweeter. 

[dramavixen]

watch this! – there will be ample time

Happy 2024, everyone! 'Tis the season to set goals. One of my New Year's resolutions is to be less of a drama snob and enjoy entertainment for entertainment's sake. The good news for my pretentious tastes is that most New Year's resolutions are doomed to fail.

Regardless of your television preferences, I believe that the media you consume should improve your quality of life. For me, that usually means sitting down and reflecting on how life sucks and letting that realization break my heart. That way, it can be sewn back together upon the next realization that sometimes life doesn't suck. It's a little masochistic of me.

what is there will be ample time?

An urban life drama centered around four friends in their 20s and 30s who, due to shifts in their personal and professional lives, return to their roots in the bustling city of Chengdu.

Focuses on the varying struggles of women in modern society while soothing your soul with the warmth of friendship and family.

I'm convinced that half of the lines are ad-libbed. Some of the stuff that comes out of the actors' mouths is way too natural.

why watch?

for and about the masses

The deeper I'm clamped into this world's trap of being a working-class human being, the more I'm drawn to television that depicts the average person's life. I can only watch so many shows about heirs to billionaires and gods on Earth before I start dissociating.

As you can guess, There Will Be Ample Time is a female-centric drama, but I wouldn't exactly consider it to be a "feminist" one in the traditional sense. Industry standard for feminist dramas tend to lean toward the "woman kicks male trash to the curb to live her glorious single life" trope. Those can be fun, but you can never escape the anger that comes along with seeing all those women being wronged by countless men like they're being passed along on some patriarchal assembly line. We're getting older. It's time to start looking after our blood pressures.

So here we are. Complemented by a relatively laidback Chengdu setting, our four leading ladies' lives aren't free from love life problems, but they have other things to do too:

Zhang Pei, an insurance agent with a smart eye for what work is worth doing. She's maintained a healthy relationship with her overbearing parents by keeping a distance of 1500 kilometers between them and herself for the past 15 years, but an unexpected incident makes her realize that there's no time to visit home like the present.

Gou Dandan, a beauty influencer who strives to make her life perfect both on- and off-camera. Reality hits when she discovers her husband is having an affair.

Dong Jiaxi, a recent graduate whose dream lies in writing and theater. She's just about to jump-start her career with great promise when her mother is diagnosed with cancer.

Wu Yun, a civil servant who moves to Chengdu for work. Though she visited her cousin Dandan in the city as a child, she's the only one in the group who didn't grow up in the region and needs to get accustomed to a new environment.

With the way that everyone speaks and interacts, it feels like you're taking a gander at someone's everyday life. Each character is someone you could meet on the street, a friend of yours, or just you yourself. The overarching normalcy makes you laugh that much harder at their humor and cry that many more tears when they break down.

--

move over, beijing and shanghai. it's chengdu hours

The Chinese title of the show, 故乡，别来无恙, translates to "my old home, hope you've been well." Chengdu's urban landscape has proliferated in recent years, but it remains in the main characters' hearts as a place of cozy memories—it's about the giant pandas, flavorful cuisine, and hordes of people drinking tea in a park and playing mahjong during a work day while some dude marches around asking if you would like to have your ears cleaned.

People in Chengdu have their struggles, but locals seem to take everything in stride. Most of your troubles can be alleviated by walking home where your parents have dinner ready or hanging out with your friends at the neighborhood barbecue joint. Take a break, have some tea. As hard as life can be, you should always take time to live.

(Disclaimer here that I'm definitely not biased for the place just because it's also where my roots are buried. I can testify that whenever this conditioned capitalist slave goes back to visit family, she starts having an anxious reaction to the free time and relaxation she's exposed to.)

The Chengdu dialect the actors use is...it's alright. I'm one to talk, considering I can't even get half a sentence out without stumbling on my American accent. Hey, at least they tried. If I harp on them, then I also have to harp on all the other actors out there who've spent years in the circle and still can't deliver a line with proper pronunciation or emotion.

--

relive your generational trauma in 4k imax surround sound

I don't know the writers' ages, but this work exudes the energy of Millennials finally aging into producing media that addresses generations' worth of mommy issues. You love to see it.

Do you see yourself in this picture? You're in high school. Call it hormones, call it rebelliousness, but you argue with your mom so frequently that it's become as routine and arduous as dragging yourself out of bed in the morning. Most often, one of these disputes ends with you shutting yourself in your room. Half an hour later, your mom bursts in without knocking to give you fruit on a plate. Ten years later, you feel like your frustrations were all so trivial in comparison to what your parents sacrificed for you. But does that make your feelings any less real?

There's something about Chinese families that makes us really good at hurting each other in the name of love and then never apologizing for it. Especially when compared to other family-centric shows, this one does an excellent job at portraying that exact issue. Each character deals with different forms of it, but they all struggle with being honest and respectful toward their family and face breaking points before they learn their lessons.

I saw myself in each of the children and my parents in their mothers and fathers. When you see a TV show reflect your family dynamics so accurately, it's hard not to cry when you see the aftermath of an argument on both sides. At the same time, you can't help but cackle when you witness some of the ridiculous things they fight over. In the end, why take things so far with your own family?

--

trying real hard over here to not spoil too much, but these. two. why am i like this? romance dramas give me romance and i'm disgusted because love is dumb. non-romance dramas give me romance and i'm on the floor searching for more crumbs. it's because i'm a snob, isn't it?

--

It's kind of difficult to summarize what this show does to your emotions. Somehow it manages to be an easy watch while squeezing a fist around your heart for all its worth. Most of all, it just makes you miss home, wherever that may be.

[dandelionjack]

resolution was… watchable. fine. okay. reasonably tolerable tv. chibnall has a real talent for turning even the most exciting potential concepts (an escaped dalek attaching itself to a human and reassembling itself from scratch) into wishy-washy stand-around-a-room-and-talk half-arsed dullness. you couldn’t get me to care for a second about ryan’s deadbeat dad or their out-of-nowhere “reconciliation”. at least if he’d been forced to sacrifice himself at the end and throw himself into the gravity well to get rid of the dalek that would have been satisfying from a narrative standpoint and would have been a point of conflict to drive a wedge between ryan and the doctor, with ryan blaming the doctor for his father’s death and potentially even storming out of the TARDIS in anger only to begrudgingly return much later in the next series out of necessity when disaster strikes, similarly to how martha came back in the middle of s4. i was so sure that he’d end up dying, and if moffat had been writing this he 100% would have, but instead we get chris neoliberal chibnall’s ‘you always have to forgive your parents because they’re family’ bullshit (for what?? what has he ever done for ryan but mistreat him and fuck off when he was at his most vulnerable?)

i liked some of it. the scene where thirteen was taunting the dalek was good ol’ who and reminded me of s1’s dalek, especially with the way it showed just how much death, mass panic, devastation and havoc one singular dalek can wreak. really portrayed it as a formidable enemy again and that was effective. imo thirteen could have been more imposing and commanding in her confrontation (this is always a criticism i have of her and why i’m still adamant that twelve should have regenerated into michelle gomez), maybe jodie’s just incapable of going oncoming storm mode. which is a bit sad, and don’t accuse me of misogyny please, it has nothing to do with her gender

all in all, i miss christmas specials. cultural christianity sucks but if you’re gonna feature the new year actually do something with it other than “ooh the time vortex looks like fireworks”. the tv movie did more with the new year than your new year’s special, chris.

[encasedinobsidian]

Thoughts on writing - June 16 

I don’t expect anyone to read this, but I meant for this tumblr to be specifically for my writing after all, so I figure this is the place to put these thoughts, and anyone is welcome to read them if interested. I’m just reflecting on myself as a writer, how I relate to this hobby, and about feeling discouraged/lacking in meaning, and trying to figure out where to go with it when there are no clear paths ahead. 

I feel like I vent to my friends often but never really try to articulate my thoughts the way I do when I actually write, so maybe writing about writing will help me sort it out for myself. 

I never meant for writing to become much of anything at all. I started writing a fanfic, thought it was funny, and my intention was to post it and move on like I always move on from any other hobby, following the same pattern of interest → hyperfixation → creating something → getting bored → discovering something new. I had no experience with writing or fandom, and it was thanks to a tiktok on my FYP that I even discovered Pedro boy fanfic in the first place, though I found it insanely weird at first. My eventual amusement obviously turned into something much more significant, and I’ve found a lot of personal healing through writing, discovered different sides of myself, developed the ability to sustain the attention needed to read a full length book, etc. I guess the difficulty is knowing where to go with it. 

It’s funny - I frequently find myself thinking this sucks, why am I doing this, nothing interesting will come of this, my brain is empty, fuck this, about writing. And I say those things but then I write anyway. I say I’m done with it and thanks for the past 15 months, I’m out, and then a few hours later I’m on my doc coming up with something. I can’t really stop at this point, it’s like my internal monologue got a physical manifestation and now it’s something I just do. At any given time, I can open my docs and add something to some story, regardless of where I am. It’s like a reflex at this point, and I have no control over it. I put my hands on the keyboard and things just come out one way or another. 

I frequently feel like I’ve reached the end of my own ability, though, or the end of what I’m capable of creating. I was never an avid reader, so there’s a foundational understanding of storytelling that I largely feel like I don’t have. I’ve read more in 2024 than I have in my whole life, actually finishing books instead of reading the first quarter over and over, so I essentially feel a bit dumb or lacking in knowledge about what makes a story interesting. I really, truly have no idea what I’m doing, I don’t know any conventions I’m supposed to follow. I pretty much know the concept of “showing not telling” and that’s it. I also know the typical series buildup of the angst peaking, conflict, resolution, which I'm now trying not to do so I don't repeat myself too much across series. I’ve also read a lot of things (both books and fics) that I very much enjoy but that don’t match my inner voice at all really, and ended up feeling less than as a writer because certain styles of writing don’t come naturally to me. Reading American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis was the first time I read something and thought, wow, this actually reads very naturally to me, especially after a year of feeling like my inner voice is wrong or oversimplified or dumbed down. 

And even though we all write for ourselves, we are all affected by our audience. I’ve been sort of brutal in unintentionally cutting down my own audience by moving platforms and no longer writing the things that gained me my following in the first place, and I guess I’ve done it as part of my constant, neverending, extreme need for authenticity of some sort, and a hatred for being boxed in or expected to do things I don’t want to do. Truthfully, I don’t know what my audience wants from me, and even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t be able to cater to it. If I put out a poll and asked what people wanted to see from me, the overwhelming majority would likely say Joel Miller with no real specifics on what type of story they’d want to see, or they’d want my rendition of something they’re already familiar with. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all, I’m very flattered by everyone enjoying my takes on that man, but I guess I’m in this place where I’ve spent so much goddamn time on writing and I need to figure out who I am as a writer completely outside of that. 

One of my writing colleagues said that I’m very mercurial, and I’d never thought much about that word at all despite how well it describes how I’ve been my entire life. I can never seen to make up my mind on things, and I’m frequently changing, removing stuff, my writing style changes as I deepen my understanding of the story, my characters etc, as I take more things into consideration and expand my own view. 

To put it in Patrick Bateman terms: this reflection…. Has meant…. Nothing. And it’s true - there is no real meaning to it, cause it’s me sitting here at 6pm, looking out my window and trying to find meaning and direction in a hobby that is a completely open landscape, and where it seems like publishing is the only real goal one can have. Either that or internet success. I don’t know, I’m not sure where I’m going with any of it and who will want to read it. I guess I have a fear that everyone who has ever followed me only wants me around as yet another source of endless Joel fic and that nobody really has an interest in my writing for what it is, or for the writer I am. I don’t try to be like anyone else - everyone sees things differently, and my fics are just a representation of how all these different scenarios look in my mind. My hope is that the people who enjoy my writing regardless of characters enjoy my writing because they enjoy my POV, or enjoy the attention paid to the things I emphasize. 

Maybe I’ll come up with something more concise next time, but this has been my writing journal entry for now !!