#yes we SHOULD reach out and talk to them more

[backfromtwitterforw]

The question of "is tr!bad manipulating tr!ros" is very interesting because it can be summed up in what do you call "manipulation".

E.g are your friends manipulating you when they try to prevent you from going back with your ex? Or when they encourage you to pursue a goal they think would benefit you? And is that manipulation if they try to show you why something you did is bad in their eyes? Or if they push you in what they think is the right way for you? Where do you draw the line between advice and manipulation?

On one side, tr!Bad did encourage tr!Ros to kill and/or let the violent part of herself out more. And yes, he emphasised her insecurities, trying to make her think about how The Kingdom has been treating her. That can legitimately be seen as tr!Bad trying to manipulate tr!Ros.

On the other side, even without tr!Bad's intervention, she would've still have a violent side in her (as everyone does I believe). She did feel underappreciated and believe herself less worthy than other Kingdom's member. Her insecurities and her will to change things were really her own from the start.

!Bad lived for so long and had his heart broken so many times that he reached the conclusion that he should now do his own thing, rely on himslef only and keep everyone at arm's reach. When facing an unhappy tr!Ros who only see value through other's eyes, he jumps to the conclusion that what she needs is what worked for him: find self value and self happiness regardless of what others want. So that is what he tells her when she came to him for advice, to get motivation from herself. And all tr!Bad said was "what do YOU want".

Ofc, tr!Bad has his own agenda that we don't know much of yet, but after tr!Ros vague answer that she wants to protect the Kingdom and make everyone happy, tr!Bad just encourage her in that way.

And then, you have tr!Aimsey and Kingdom's members. They see tr!Ros who appeared calm getting more and more into combat training, trap building and revenge scheme. They don't understand why she still crave validation when they do their best to make her feel appreciated and that she belongs. So they try to make her realise that the path she's taking isn't what they consider the right one, that the feeling she has may be just that, a feeling with no evidence to support it.

So, who is manipulating tr!Ros here? Is tr!Bad the villain for validating her feelings and pushing her to be more self centered? Is tr!Aimsey and the Kindgom's members bad for trying to talk her out of a way they think dangerous?

My answer would be that none of them are actively manipulative. Each have their own view on life, friendship, loyalty and happiness. Each genuinely give the best advice they can with the biaised view they have. And it's up to tr!Ros to decide who she wants to listen to.

[so-writing]

don't forget to water the plants -- Quinn Hughes

“Don’t forget to water the plants!” 

“I won’t,” he smiled easily as he picked up your bag, “have a good girl’s weekend, and don’t worry about the fucking plants. I’ll take care of them.” 

You laughed and followed him out into the hallway, hurrying to catch the elevator. You trusted him, he’d take care of them and everything would be fine.

**

months later

“I can’t do this,” Quinn runs his hands through his hair while pacing back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, “it’s so fucking exhausting.”

You said nothing, not sure how to respond to that because you weren’t quite sure when things got ‘so fucking exhausting’ for him. As far as you knew, things were good. Your sex life was pretty regular and the two of you rarely fought. 

“Do you hear me? It feels like I’m talking to a fucking wall.” 

“Yes, Quinn,” you finally spoke, “I hear you just fine.” 

“About fucking time.” 

This wasn’t him, not the him you knew, and you struggled with how to react to his hurtful words. If you were quiet, he seemed to get aggravated, but if you responded to him, he instantly got annoyed. There was no winning with this version of Quinn. 

So you said that, “there’s no winning with you!”

It came out louder than you intended, “It’s obvious that I can’t make you happy anymore. Why are we even doing this?”

He was quiet for nearly a minute, his pacing across the apartment coming to a stop, “great fucking question.”

The air between the two of you was thicker than it had ever been. You, sitting on the couch holding back tears, and Quinn, standing in the kitchen with his back to you, had reached an impasse. The past several months of fighting over things you couldn’t recall had come to a finally come to a head. 

“I should probably leave,” you didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to make it final, “this is your place and I’ve never really belonged here anyway.” 

His silence said everything you needed to (not) hear. This wasn’t your home, this wasn’t your place, this wasn’t your life anymore. 

“Give me some time to pack and I’ll go.” 

“Take a few days,” Quinn ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “we’ve got a few road games, I’ll stay somewhere else until we get back.”

It wasn’t until he closed the door behind him, for the final time you’d be there, that you finally let the floodgates open. Salty tears slid down your face as you grabbed your accessories from the bathroom and packed your clothes into suitcases you never thought would be used for this. 

The bedazzled Canucks jersey hanging on your side of the closet sent you into a teary spiral. It had taken nearly a day to place every little rhinestone and Quinn had loved the way it sparkled. You wanted to take it with you, because you had worked so hard on it and he didn’t deserve to keep it, but more than that, you wanted to hurt him. And you hoped, maybe, it would hurt him if he saw your labor of love, for him, hanging by itself in the closet you used to share.

You wanted to hurt him, as much as he had hurt you. 

The Canucks would be on the east coast of the states for the next four days. In that time, you scrubbed nearly all of your existence from the apartment you shared with Quinn. The kitchen was clear of any dishes, snacks, knickknacks, and decor that belonged to you. The living room couch was devoid of all comfy accent pillows and plush blankets you’d bought. The bedroom and adjoining bathroom showed no signs of you ever being there. By the time you were done removing yourself from Quinn’s place, only a few things remained that would remind him of you. 

It was done on purpose, and you knew, it would be the one thing that might actually break through his new, ugly exterior and truly hurt him, just as you wanted. 

Locking the door behind you for the final time, you sucked in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of your nose to stop the tears that wanted to fall. You’d cried over Quinn enough, time to let go. 

***

Quinn returned to a half empty apartment. He knew you’d leave, but the impact of you truly leaving didn’t really set in until he came home to shell of the home he once shared with you. Little pieces of you that used to decorate the space and make it special were now gone, replaced with dust and empty space. 

Your coffee mug, your toothbrush, your favorite pillow, every little piece of you had brightened the space left a dull opening that Quinn couldn’t quite figure out how he would fill. Every piece of you except one, or several rather, your carefully curated plant collection was left by the big window overlooking Vancouver. 

Once thriving, the plants were now turning brown and beginning to crumble. The dry soil was pulling away from the edges of the pots and dead leaves lay on the floor beneath the shelves. It wasn’t until he saw your dying collection, one that you put so much love and care into, that Quinn realized what he’d actually lost. 

He knelt down and began to pick up the fallen leaves when he noticed a post it note taped to the big window, the once sticky edges around the tape curled and peeling away.

don’t forget to water the plants

[thisisjustfanfic]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{My contribution to the fandom. The obligatory "everyone lives together in one big house and they kiss kiss kiss, and they love love love each other.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Eventual Smut. SFW (For now)

Chapter 3: Negotiating

You find a supply closet on the main floor near the stairwell and are relieved to see a good stock of cleaning supplies and tools. Retrieving a broom, you decide to make yourself useful until Zayne gets back. 

With one earbud in, you listen to some music while you sweep the living area, reaching into the deep corners and underneath the furniture. It’s peaceful, and the nagging fatigue that kept trying to lure into napping was momentarily forgotten. 

The sun was beginning to set when the elevator dinged, just loud enough to draw your attention from where you were reaching as far as you can underneath the huge coffee table. The soft rug presses into the side of your face as you reach for what looks like a crumpled can. 

“Y/N?” Your name makes you pause in your pursuit of that can and sit up onto your knees. 

Zayne is wearing his beige coat and you can see the edge of his lab coat and his medical badge peeking out from underneath it. 

He has white bags in one hand and the scent of savory takeout quickly fills the room.

“Hey!” You greet cheerily, relieved to see a familiar face, “I was just tidying up. There’s a can stuck underneath that I can’t reach.”

You return to your quest and hear Zayne’s heavy sigh.

“You said you would take a day.” He mumbles as he walks over to the kitchen and places the food onto the counter. 

“And I got bored,” You reply, speaking louder so that he can hear with your voice muffled. 

“Come on,” You hear him call, his smooth voice cool but not demanding. 

Your fingertips graze the can once, but only manages to push it further away. Zayne says something else, but you don’t hear him. 

A touch at your lower back makes you shiver. Cold fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt. Innocently trying to draw your attention but unknowingly edging into the slightly exposed skin of your lower back. 

You inhale sharply and sit up, finding Zayne standing over you with a stern look in his eyes.

“I brought food.” He tells you like he didn’t just strum a chord in your spine. “Have you eaten since lunch?”

You recall the sorry state of his fridge and shake your head. Standing, you fix your shirt and place your hands on your hips, “You’re not exactly stocked up. Did the other housekeepers do the shopping?”

Zayne’s jaw ticks and he nods, “Yes. I was thinking about the arrangement while I was working and I think we should set some rules.”

You laugh as you take a seat at one of the barstools, “Oh trust me, I got the rundown from one of your roommates on some of the rules.” 

Zayne blinks in surprise, “Who?”

“Rafayel.” You reply, “I have to be honest Zayne, I have no idea how he expects me to clean the studio if I can’t touch anything.”

“He’s…particular about his work.” Zayne says as he begins to unpack the takeup. More than a dozen little boxes laid out and fives sets of disposable silverware set next to it.  “I’ll talk to him.”

Zayne examines each box and then finds one he seems to be looking for, sitting it front of you and offering a set of utensils. You take the white box and open it, surprised to see one of your favorite takeout dishes. Steaming hot and delicious. 

“Thank you.” You say with a bright smile, “Should we wait for the others or do you eat alone?”

“Today we’ll eat alone.” Zayne says as he finds his own box. “You’ll see them more often in the evening. Dinner is sometimes a communal affair.”

You can’t help but feel affectionate at the idea, but then bitter resentment tries to swallow you whole. You miss family dinners. Sitting together over something homemade and chatting until the food gets cold. 

Why did Zayne get that? Why did everyone else get that except for you?

You squash that nasty train of thought, and force a smile, “That sounds nice.”

Zayne sheds his coat and scarf and sits down next to you. From within he coat he retrieved a few papers and sets them on the counter before tossing the coat onto the chair next to him. 

“This is the contract we signed with the last housekeeper,” He explained, sliding one of the papers to you. “It lays out working days, which rooms to clean. Grocery budget and other things. But–” He pauses and slides the other paper to you, “Since you’re not represented by an agency, I wanted to make sure you were given proper compensation.”

You don’t answer with a mouth full of food and instead examine the difference between the contracts. The old one seems pretty standard. Three days a week and what’s to be cleaned each day. Which day to order groceries and the budget allotted for it. It listed who and when inspection of work would be done, and how much would be paid a week for the work. 

The new one was longer. It stated the same expectations but listed only two days working. The areas to be cleaned was shorter and the grocery budget higher. The inspections would be done only once a month and the weekly pay twice as much as the last.

“Zayne,” You tone is chastising, “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it not enough?” He says quickly, pulling the revised contract from your hands and examining it for typos. “We can negotiate, of course.”

“You barely have me doing anything with that contract. And where’s the part where I pay you back?” You argue, stabbing your fork into your partially eaten takeout, “And the pay should be cut because you’re also housing me. That’s more on your utility bill, my pay should be cut to cover it.”

Zayne’s brow crease and his lips purse– eyes glaring at the contract.

“Plus I’ll never be able to keep this place clean if I only work two days a week.” You sit up, taking on as authoritative a tone as you can, “I should be working six days if I’m living here. Sundays off. I can keep all the common spaces clean and do the shopping on Saturdays. You should inspect everything at least twice a week to make sure I’m keeping standards, and the pay should reflect the median wage for this position minus lodgings.”

Zayne’s shoulders deflate, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not.” You argue petulantly, “I’m being practical. Don’t go easy on me, Zayne. I did this to myself.”

HE closes his eyes, takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Fine. Alright.” From his shirt pocket he pulls out a pen and hands it to you. “Write down what you think is reasonable, and we’ll go from there.”

You smile and take the pen, “Thank you Zayne.”

“You punishing yourself unnecessarily, but if you insist on it…” Zayne turned back to his food and began to pick at it. Suddenly remembering something he turns back to you, “There should be stipulations for if you wish to cease the contract or if circumstances change.”

You nod in agreement, “Sure. We can put like.” Your voice drifts off as you turn the page over and find the open space at the bottom, “If I end the contract, I will owe…”

“No, not that.” Zayne sighs, “Put that you are allowed to terminate the contract for any reason, be it professional or personal with no repercussions– financial or otherwise.”

“That lenient.” You mumble as you quickly pen it in. “Would you put that in for some other housekeeper?”

“You aren’t some other housekeeper.” 

The warmth in his voice rivals the richness of the hot chocolate you’d drank yesterday. Thick and decadent, but quiet like he was reluctant to reveal such a precious secret. 

You glance at him and continue to alter the contract until you're satisfied. Zayne argues with the number you write down for your wage, and eventually you find something neither of you are happy with but can live with. A tenuous compromise. 

You sign the bottom and Zayne does the same. 

The food tastes a little bit better now that that’s settled. 

The elevator dings and footsteps tap in approach. You and Zayne turn and you blink in surprise. You recognize his face, and you nearly squeak as he freezes– halfway between the foyer and the kitchen.

“Xavier,” Zayne greets the soft blond man with a gentle nod, “This is Y/N, she’s going to be staying here for the foreseeable future.”

Xavier clears his throat and approaches. His white hunter’s uniform dirt along the edges and some soot covers his right shoulder. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” You greet with a smile, jumping down from the barstool and offering your hand, “Though, have we met before? Your face is familiar.”

You see the muscles in Xavier’s neck work as he swallows and his gloved hand takes yours in a chaste hold, squeezing once without shaking before letting you go. His sapphire eyes don’t linger on your face, and you feel suddenly self-conscious.

“Ah, perhaps we’ve crossed paths at the Hunter’s association.” Xavier’s voice is like soft goosefeather down. The most plush and cushioned tone that settles like a luxurious fur coat on your shoulders. You fight the shiver that rises up your spine at the sound of it, and your mind supplies for sensations of deja vu.��

“Right. Probably.” You reply, returning to your barstool and your food. 

Xavier rounds the side of the counter and goes to the fridge, pulling out the orange juice and pouring himself a glass.

Zayne leans over the counter to find three different boxes and sets them aside, “I got your usual order.”

Xavier nods and a small smile appears on his face, “Thanks. I’m going to shower before eating.”

Zayne just nods, but as Xavier passes by there this look. A sort of exchange of information in a language you don’t understand. Some subliminal nod between gentlemen or perhaps some new greeting? 

You finish your meal and continue chatting amicably with Zayne until Xavier returns. He looks like he was carved from powdered sugar and marble, the softness of his light colored all the more striking without soot to darken them. 

“Y/N is going to be the housekeeper.” Zayne informs the blond as he sits on the other side of you. 

Xavier looks at Zayne like he’s insane, brow furrowed and upper lift slightly lifted. “Seriously?”

Your heart sinks like a stone in your chest. 

“Rafayel has already met her, and made his…rules clear.” Zayne says, “Did you have anything to add?”

The bitterness in Xavier’s expression faded after a moment and he turned his attention to his food, “Not really.”

You lick your lips and try to find something amicable to say, “I’ll try my best to stay out of your way. Rafayel let me know to be careful with his studio, did you have anything I should be careful with?”

Xavier slurped at some noodles and kept his eyes down, “I have books in my room. Don’t move them.”

You nod a few times, appeased that he, at the very least is speaking to you, “Alright. I can do that.”

Zayne hummed from your left and nudged you softly with his knee.

“Oh,” You remark as your brain returns to you, “I was going to ask if you wanted me to cook too?”

“You want to cook?” Xavier’s voice drawls from your right.

“If you’d like me to,” You reply, “I’m no five-star chef but I enjoy cooking. And I have a sneaky suspicion you guys eat too much takeout.”

“That’s not ne-” Zayne’s sentence stops at the look you shoot at him. A stern glare that dares him to try and coddle you again. He exhales in defeat, “A few times a week couldn’t hurt.”

You finish your meal and go to clean up your food while the other two continue to eat. Deciding to tackle the dishes while they chat, you go to the sink and search for a sponge. You find a dish brush and soap underneath the sink and get to work. It’s not hard with the dishwasher unused and empty to your right so you fill it. 

Zayne finishes his food and sets it aside and returns to the contract, reading it over when the elevator dings again. You hardly hear it with the sound of the running water in front of you, but you do notice the change in the room.

You look up in time to see a statue of a man enter the room– his white silver hair fluffy but sharp. Dark black and burgundy makes up the entirety of his look, with a well cut suit jacket hanging from his shoulders. 

“You’re back early.” Xavier notes with a harsh bite to his tone. 

Rafayel was intimidating like a shark in the water. Something that can swim faster and stronger than you can. Xavier was intimidating like space. Void of air and warmth. 

This man was intimidating like a beast of lore was. Something beyond the comprehension of man, and only formed from imaginations and nightmares. 

“Disappointed?” The man mused, thick like fine wine and tinged with the rumbling of a growl. His expensive leather oxfords tapped against the wood floor as he strutted over to the kitchen counter, perusing the takeout for his. As he passes by Zayne, he reaches out, placing his wide hand at the back of Zayne’s neck and squeezing in greeting. 

Stunned by that, you turned off the water and began to dry your hands, unknowingly drawing his attention. Like a predator hearing a twig snap in the forest, his eyes snap to you and a small smirk quirks his lips.

“What’s this?” He asks, clearly not speaking to you. 

“This is Y/N.” Zayne explains once again, “She’s going to be the new housekeeper.”

“ Oh,” The man croons, walking over around the island with the sink to tower over you, “A pleasure to meet you. The name’s Sylus.”

“N-nice to meet you,” You silently curse your stuttering voice, “Sylus.”

He hums when you say his name, backing off out of your space and grabbing his takeout. As quickly as he’d come, he’s walking away, “I’ll be downstairs.”

As his presence grows further away, you feel the ability to breathe return to you. Your face is red and your heart is racing, and what for? Why did he, of all of them, make you feel like you were suddenly game for a hunt?

“That’s the last of them, yeah?” You ask Zayne after a moment.

Zayne chuckles and nods, “Yeah, that’s it.”

Later, Zayne explains that Rafayel often gets caught up in a creative zone and doesn’t come down to eat until much later. Xavier gives Zayne a quiet thanks for the food before leaving, and Zayne makes sure you’re settled before he excuses himself for bed. 

You linger in the kitchen for a moment, cleaning up the remnants of the take out. Zayne’s portion is already gone, the meticulous doctor already cleaning up after himself. Xavier only left behind a few napkins in his wake, which was better than the full mess you expected him to leave you with. 

First impression? Rafayel would likely prod you and push you until you broke. Xavier likely didn’t like you and would avoid you as much as he could. Zayne was…Zayne. He’d be busy at the hospital most of the time, but would likely still find time for you. Sylus was scary and lived on the bottom floor like a goblin, which seemed fitting. Hopefully your run ins with him were minimal. 

The boxes of Rafayel’s order remained on the counter and before you scaled the stairs to head to bed you picked them up. Maybe a peace offering?

You head back to his studio and knock before entering. A muffled response calls back and you enter, finding him laying on the long couch with a sketchbook over his face. 

Lingering by the door, you hold the two boxes of food close to you, hoping to retain their heat. “I brought your food up. I thought you might like to eat here?”

Rafayel lifts the sketchbook and peeks at you, seeming to forget you existed. He sighs and waves his hand for you to approach. You cross the room and find a small portion of the side table to place the food on.

“It’s late and I’m heading to bed.” You tell him, “It was nice to meet you.”

You turn and he doesn’t stop you, letting you leave the room as quickly as you’d come.  You were eager to get started, though this certainly wasn’t the job you’d pick for yourself, you weren’t about to slack off. 

You’d been in such a daze since– For a while. Nothing really felt real anymore. Nothing felt important. Maybe this peculiar circumstance was just bizarre enough to knock some sense back into you. As you readied for bed, setting up the few photo frames on the bedside tables, you hoped so. 

After you left, Rafayel sighed. Eyes stuck on the little takeout boxes you’d brought him. Glaring at them like they were messenger birds bringing news of his incoming doom. 

It couldn’t be. Could it? No. No that was…. Rafayel huffed and tossed his sketchbook aside. His stomach was turning in knots and his skin felt hot. 

A part of him wanted to go to the others, confirming the suspicions curling around his spine like a choking boa. If he noticed it, then the others did too. Maybe not Zayne…poor guy, but certainly Sylus. And most definitely Xavier. 

But it felt too good to be true, and so Rafayel didn’t trust it. A sweet treat hanging from a thread, bait at the end of a silver hook meant to trick him and lay him out for slaughter. 

It didn’t matter who you looked like. What you felt like. What you smelled like… He’d deny the messages his senses were telling him to preserve his sanity. To preserve the tenuous peace and happiness he’d found here. He wouldn’t voice aloud his suspicions in case he was wrong and get everyone’s hopes up for nothing.

[teasibby]

My thesis idea got approved and so far I am working on it under a wip name of "Storytelling and use of affects in Dungeons and Daddies". My first hypothesis is that Anthony's experience as a writer shines through in the base story and collective storytelling adds to that, with the dice bringing elements of improvisation and humour. That's all good, I am thriving with this section and it is so fun.

The part I am struggling is my second hypothesis is that each family represents some sort of conflict within them and each child represents an emotion. The dads need to face both, the emotion of the child and the conflict of the family before they can move on. The conflicts are handeled with a help of fantasy genre conventions. But this is where I am stuck in!

(The overanalytical drabbles of my ideas under the cut)

The Oaks are like super obviously dealing with a generational trauma that is a physical creature in the fantasy world. Lark and Sparrow are repserenting love and hate, both of them. The thing is that one internalises the hate and gives out love to cover it; one gets consumed by the hatered and aims it outside and is repulsed by the idea of love fixing everything.

The Stamplers on the other hand! The conflict starts out as Terry rejecting the idea of Ron as a "new father". He is grieving, not ready to let go of Terry sr. He goes through literally every step mentioned in Patrick Colm Hogan's book "What Literature Teaches Us about Emotion" (2011) So Terry represent grief, quite clearly. But that conflict is solved by the end of Saving Terry arc! The next conflict starts when we get to Ron's memories and we see how Ron never recieved parental love. It is being spelled out how Ron tries so hard to be something he never got to have; a safe father figure. But Ron doesn't have quite as clear conflict as Henry or say Darryl have, and I am struggling to put this thought out with fewer words.

Aaand The Willsons have such a good conflict and Grant says it out loud, thank you Anthony! They speak, but they never talk. Carol and Darryl's marriage is falling apart because they do not talk about the things that are bothering them. They are stuck to pretending that everything is okay, taxes mean sex and movienights are dates. Very safe, very mundane, very not passionate. Grant has never seen his father cry. When Yeet and Killa are discussing if Grant should kill someone or not, Grant says out loud the problem in their family "If my father has taught me anything, it's that we can always talk about it later." He is just 12, but Darryl forgets that very effectively. He guides Grant by framing close and serious matters to be more distant. ("Hey buddy, I need your help here a bit. Kill that chimera and we can make burgers, you'd like a burger, Yeet would like a burger yes?") Grant therefore represents distance and not being good enough. Darryl is very proud of his son, but never says it to his face in a way that would reach. The silence is also funnily enough incorporated into the fact that Frank's vision can't talk to Darryl.

Finally, The Closes. Where do I even start. So the conflict is the other parent dying. It affects both of these characters but neither of them is willing to face that feeling. They wrap it in a narrative of "We will do. It's fine, I'm cool, doesn't even bother me". Where Terry is allowed to grieve his father, Nick is not (by Nick, I think he denies it himself in order to please or impress or appeal to Glenn). Glenn doesn't do it either, because as we hear in the trials, he felt like Nick needed a strong father who had his shit together. The moment Morgan was gone, Glenn switched to a survival mode. They both describe their relationship to be buddy-like and "tight", they are very laid back. As much as Darryl, Glenn also tends to forget that Nick is like what, 12. I think Nick's need for a father can be found in his saving arc. He's so excited to have found a forest full of drug-flowers, because he knows Glenn likes that. He asks if they can "leave the others behind and stay here". The fantastic isn't scaring Nick, he sees it as an oppoturnity where Glenn isn't going away and he gets to be around him. But where I struggle is to put this in one emotion that Nick would represent. Is it seek of approval? Grief? Safety? Stability?

So... That's quite a lot. If you have any thoughts on the feelings or conflicts feel free to comment or slide into my DMs! I am not in the official discord but just know that if I were this would fly out there so fast. I also might not answer right away, I don't have this app on my phone lol.

I just need to get this out and I figured you might appreciate these more than my poor loved ones who don't even listen the podcast. My three hour yappings about each kid just goes straight through xd

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Gently, Lucifer reached out to take Adams hand and held it. His chest felt tight, a heat of the moment during sex was taking its toll.

Lucifer: No, Adam you're a wonderful husband and I love you. Not all of your kids hate you, they love you. And Avery will love you. You gotta stop being so hard on yourself.

Adam: B-But

Lucifer: No buts, I'm sorry this has been so hard on you. I ...... I was just so excited to have a baby with you I didn't think about how you being pregnant would make you feel........ I should have talked to you longer than the two seconds we did.

He didn't think it would be that big a deal but it was, he jumped the gun on this.

Lucifer swallowed a lump: Do you love her? Do you even want her?

Adam: Yes! It's just fucking complicated, I'll be better once she's out but..... I can't be the mom she wants.....

Lucifer: So be the dad she needs. Give yourself some credit Adam. And..... If you don't want more kids after Avery I understand.

Adams eyes went wide: W-what? But, I thought you wanted-

Lucifer tugged him closer to him so he could hug him: I meant it. I really am okay with just Charlie and Avery. If being pregnant upsets you this much, I'm not going to subject you to it over and over.

It was a miracle that Lilith even carried Charlie to term and if Adam didn't want more? That was fine, it hurt a little but he had made peace with only having one kid long ago.

Lucifer: You didn't have a choice on Earth but you do here. And fuck Evan he's just a dick.

Adam snickered and hugged him back: I just want you to be happy with me.

Lucifer: I am happy with you. I love you so much it fucking hurts me. If you'd rather have pets over more kids that's fine, if you don't want either that's fine too. Your happiness matters too Adam.

Adam cried as they held each other, this was a lot for one day.

Lucifer: I'm sorry I said you have no friends........ You have friends and you don't even have to bother with those mothers if you don't want to.

Adam: It's just Angel and Cherri.......

Lucifer: And Husk, Charlie, and the guy at the convenience store that gives you free beef jerky.

Adam snorted and pulled away: He doesn't fucking count. I just use him to get free shit.

Lucifer: You're friends with most of the sins, save for Mammon.

Adam: Yeah, he's a joke.

Lucifer smiled: He is.

Adam: I'm sorry I called Charlie a fucktard.

Lucifer: Thank you........ Did you still want those plates and cups?

Adam: ....... Yeah.

Lucifer: Okay, I'll have them delivered. We can give Charlie the old ones.

Even if they are too expensive and fucking ugly.

Adam smiled: Thank you...... Can I peg you tonight?

Lucifer flushed, he let Adam do that once in a while it helped him feel like a man.

Lucifer: ...... Sure.

Anything for Adam.

I really need some FtM Adam feeling comfortable wearing a dress.

I'm having some gender issues, so I'm craving some trans!Adam.

Rp of sinner!trans!Adam??

Oh are you okay? We can do that! ☺️

-

Adam brushed off any little crumbs that were on his dress, it wasn't very often that he wore feminine clothes anymore since transitioning but something about a nice dress every once in a while made him feel so fucking hot.

Not to mention that it was just his color, Adam swore he was meant to be rich why else would be look so fucking amazing in gold?

He should probably finish getting ready, his husband was waiting on him downstairs.

Adam slipped on some gold heels and earrings before going down to meet Lucifer.

Lucifer: There you are I've been-...... Wow

Adam: Looks nice right?

Lucifer: You look gorgeous my dove.~

Adam blushed as he took his hand and kissed it.

Adam: Worth the Wait?

Lucifer: More than worth it. You'll put everyone to shame at that party. Kinda wish we didn't have to go now, so I could poke around up your skirt.~

Adam giggled: Luci!!

Ugh, his voice cracked that hadn't happened in a while. But that's how flattered he is! Cheeky man working him up.

Lucifer: What?~ There's always time in the limo.~

He took Adams hand and they got in the limo. Lucifer put up the tinted window divider so the driver couldn't see them. Adam laid back in the long seat, he bit his lip as his husband went up his dress and pulled his panties down before disappearing underneath to eat him out.

((Adams outfit))

[longing4yesterday]

i've been stoking in my own negativity lately so i'm gonna try my best to keep positive today <3 it's been a real struggle w/ my mental health lately but every step forward is a good one. anxiety be damned i have friends that care about me! and i'm writing gay rpf!! we're doing good!! in any case, i'm sharing a hug with you all if you need it <33 love you all

[some-stars]

okay so. kind of a weird thing. i just finished the dp&w making of, which was reasonably fun but pretty missable, and right as it finished i realized that shawn and ryan ALWAYS used "deadpool" to refer to the character. never his name. i mean maybe once or twice that i forgot but virtually never. they and hugh did say logan and wolverine about 40/60, but honestly that still feels weird to me coming from a fandom context. and, idk. there's a gap there. it feels emblematic of the gap between the people who get to make this kind of movie (cis white men), and the people who don't (us, for the most part). and how what they see as the most important elements of the story and characters are fundamentally out of alignment with what we want. there's a lot of overlap, which is why we're drawn to this stuff in the first place, but it's never going to actually line up. idk it's pretty disheartening but we carry on i suppose.

[triglycercule]

dust and horror angel and demon themes,,,, they could totally parallel each other...... :3

dust=angel of death described in the delta rune prophecy (self declared) (i DEFINITELY elaborated on this one waayyyy before but anyways dust with a fucked up savior complex SAVE ME SAVE ME.... death is a blessing ass guy. life is torment and he will be the one to liberate monsters from their bodies and with the strength they provide to him be able to take down evil evil creation of pure misery that is the human ✨✨✨ dont worry his evil cackles are to HIDE HIS PAIN of saving everyone....... trust)

horror=demon that dragged everyone in horrortale into hell (as perceived by everyone else) (i think it would be a cool hc if everyone outside of snowdin viewed horror as literally a demon. maybe undyne preaches that. anyone outside of snowdin might be WAYYY worse because they starve for longer and literally take part in cannibalism so they might not have the same sort of mild sanity that snowdin residents do,,,, besides he DID kinda bring them all eternal suffering. kinda. nobody but undyne knows what happened at the core so she could totally just paint the story to blame horror fully)

ANYWAYS i like the possible dynamics this could have :333

dust to horror (please let me kill you PLEASE let me kill you i can end it all so peacefully wouldn't it be nice??? i promise ill make it quick just for you),,, horror to dust (i want you to live and suffer with what youve done i want you to watch all of your choices hit you one day and i'll be there and laugh at you. i'll keep you alive just to keep you suffering ok?)

OR dust to horror (you dont deserve to die you dont deserve to even be hurt by me. not because youre the exception but youre the Exception i absolutely loathe you so youll never get the sweet release of death :3) and horror to dust (just let me die already i dont wanna be here. youre supposed to be a savior right??? an angel?? then why don't you save me already when i need it more than anyone else)

[cathymee]

discourse is wiiiild

who is this

so true bestie

[fading-event-608]

Listen, I know, you all have been seeing fundraiser posts all day long. I've seen people complain that the tags for Palestine are "unusable" now because… genocide victims use it to find aid to survive.

Thing is, those posts will be here until Israel ceases it's aggression. And Palestinians will need your aid as far as they are left with no income and besieged. I've tried reaching out to other platforms, and Tumblr is still the best place for at least Falastin (Gazan who I spotlight for more than 2 months) to get donations; because here you don't need thousands of followers to get interactions. And at least we get one in ten response here; on other platforms both of us don't get any.

So yes, a dying website for fandom is her best bet to save her family right now. We don't speak of evacuation anymore (even though we hope for it), this is a battle for day-to-day survival. The prices in Gaza are increasing every hour, and they have no income and Falastin has gone into multiple debts to help them before starting the campaign in June. And yes, she receives more attention now but her family is still in starvation - she tries to support 26 people now, since her cousin was martyred and his 2 children joined 24 of her family in Al-Mawasy.

Yes, they should get free aid from all those countless non-profits that raise millions. But if they see something labelled as "aid" it is because they have bought it themselves. Yes, you can see (and maybe touch!) aid if you subject yourself to hours-long queues and/or humiliation of being a part of a photoshoot. They also said that the aid they get is stale at best and spoiled at worst; and that's again, if they get it.

Yes, there are grassroots organizations but they cannot reach everyone, because they are in small teams and they don't receive a lot of funds. And you can of course donate to them to try "fix" this; but please do not think that it means individual fundraisers are not worth supporting. I did not see any evidence of individual fundraisers "taking" money from others; on the contrary, when Falastin's fundraiser struggles, I see others struggle too. When we celebrate a good day of donations we celebrate it with others too.

And I could talk about Harris campaign get 1 billion in donations and still receiving them or how AO3 got 200k in a couple of days; but the post is getting too long.

Anyway. Please consider donating to Falastin's campaign; the money would buy food and water first, shelter and clothes for the winter second. There's a raffle for hand-made Palestinian thobe that Falastin's friend makes (LINK); and please follow her here.

Donate via Gofundme (in SEK! check rates below please): LINK

10$ = 108 SEK

25$ = 272 SEK

50$ = 544 SEK

100$ = 1,088 SEK

Donate via PayPal (in USD): LINK

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

desperate people find faith

summary: your first mission ends with you in Jean's lab and a very worried Logan who's had trouble leaving your side wc: 2.0k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your very positive feedback on the previous fics with these two!!! I am really looking forward to writing more for them, so please feel free to send any requests for them my way, or Logan requests in general! And yes, the title is from a Taylor Swift song again. Lots of hurt/comfort in this one, talks of mushy gushy feelings, very worried Logan find the previous part here! all empath!reader fics here!

You took the cold table underneath you as a sign that something had gone wrong. You peaked one eye open before quickly squeezing it closed, the bright florescent lights too much to handle. You took a beat, trying to make sense of your surroundings. 

You remembered the jet landing in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, you and Jean searching an abandoned building looking for the young mutant that Charles had promised would be there and coming up empty. The two of you had made your way back to the jet and.. shit. The kid had freaked, and you distinctly remember taking enough damage to warrant a swift retreat back to the school. You must be downstairs, in Jean’s lab. It’s probably a bad sign that the first thing you worry about how much shit Logan is going to give you for this. 

You reached out with your power, too cautious of the lights (and the judgment of the rest of the team) to look with your eyes. A few people were mildly worried just across the room, but it was hard not to be distracted by the huge amounts of anger and exhaustion on your left. You debated facing him head on, being a grown up about it and fessing up to the fact that you were wrong. Thankfully, you could be immature when the situation called for it. You attempted to even out your breathing and smooth out the crease between your eyebrows, anything that could give you away. 

“Sweetheart?” Logan’s voice is so much softer than you were expecting, based on the waves of pure fury currently radiating off of him. 

You shush him, blinking one eye open. “I’m sleeping.” You whisper, letting your eye fall shut again. 

You felt his hand gently brush over the top of your head. His voice is closer, air tickling your ear as he leans down beside you. “Been sleeping for three days, bub. Need you to wake up now.” 

You turn your head to the side and are treated to Logan dropping a small kiss on your forehead. You can’t help but smile at the affection, eyes half open against the bright lights. After a few moments, they dim. Jean takes her place on the other side of the table, lab coat on and stethoscope in hand. You expected her to shoo Logan away in the name of a more thorough analysis but she doesn’t even attempt it. 

Logan’s hand finds your own, gripping tight enough to be just short of uncomfortable. Jean makes quick work of taking your diagnostics, and gently informs you that besides feeling fatigued, you are just fine. 

That can’t be right. 

You know that you caught the brunt of the impact, it was beginning to come back to you. The young mutant had lashed out, and before you’d had the chance to get close, he’d sent a car flying towards you and Jean. She’d managed to counteract it with her own mutation, firmly shoving you out of the way. But she hadn’t been fast enough to catch the small metal spikes he’d also thrown. There was no way you should be ‘just fine’ by now. 

Either Jean was in your head or the confusion was showing clearly on your face. She gave you a tight smile, eyes darting between you and the door. She took a few steps back, clearly intent of making her exit. “Jean, wait, there’s no way-”

She gave you her please stop talking smile. “I think it’s best if this comes from him,” she nodded at Logan, placing her stethoscope and clipboard on the side table. “I’ll be back in a bit to do one final check before we clear you.” She gives you another smile that didn’t meet her eyes, and then she was gone. 

You began to sit up slowly, still in shock that there was little to no pain, only stiffness from being immobile for too long. “What is she talking about?” Logan huffed, supporting you with a hand on your back. “What’s going on?” 

One hand made long, slow strokes up and down your spine, while the other had not loosened it’s grip on your own since you’d woken up. His eyebrows were scrunched together, the tell tale sign of his thinking face. You tried your best not to rush him, but everything about the situation was so confusing and your mind was racing. You were far too healed, and he was being far too calm for the anger that was rolling off go him, still. 

“Didn’t expect me to just sit around when you came back one foot in the grave, did ya?” 

“I’m sorry if me coming back banged up gave you extra work, I just don’t understand why you’re so upset with me.” 

His eyes went wide, the hand on your back stilling. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart.” The tremble in his voice almost had you convinced. 

“Don’t lie to me about it,” you help up your hand, still firmly entwined with his. “I can tell.” 

“I’m notmad at you, bub.” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, peppering it with kisses. “I’m mad at the little fuck who did this to you, I’m mad that they let this happen, and I’m furious with myself that I wasn’t there.” 

“He’s just a kid, Logan.” 

His shoulders shook with silent laughter, a stark white dancing at the edge of his emotions now. Shock. “You almost died, and your first instinct is to defend the little asshole responsible.” 

You leaned forward, bumping your shoulder against his chest in warning. “I feel fine.” He nodded, taking a deep breath in through his nose while his hand not currently locked with yours resumed it’s path up and down your back. You let it go on for a few moments, appreciating the silence and the grounding effect of his touch. “Do you… wanna fill me in on why exactly that is?” 

He sucked in a breath, shoulders visibly tense. “We were lucky that Hank was stopping by for a visit.” He played with your fingers, distracting himself. You tilted your head to the side, wondering why that information was important at a time like this. “When they brought you in, god there was so much blood. Jean managed to take care of a lot of it, but she didn’t know when, or uh, if you were going to wake up.” He blew out a breath, steadying himself. “You know that Hank has been asking for a long time-”

Both of your hands gripped his tightly. “Tell me you didn’t.” 

Hank had been asking for ages to use some of Logan’s blood to synthesize a more advanced healing serum for the X-Men. It was rare they came back with more than bumps and bruises, but he was a worrier and felt that Logan was the key to making something truly effective. The only problem? Logan hated needles. You’d only gotten bits and pieces from him about why, but you had a hunch that when you were alive for as long as he had been, people were willing to poke and prod for some answers. He’d never admit it, but you had felt how terrified he was the last time he’d been down hard after a mission, and Jean had tried to give him an IV of fluids to speed up the regeneration. It hadn’t ended well, to say the least. 

“I should’ve done it sooner. Seeing you like this, knowing I could have done something about it.” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. 

Cautiously, you fit yourself against him, arms tight around his neck and your chest flush with his own. You half expected him to reprimand you, to remind you that you should be careful, not to move too much. Instead, he held you tightly, the side of his face pressed against the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that for a good long while, reveling in the comfort of the other. 

“I know you think that you only did it because,” you paused, steeling yourself. “Because it was me.” You can feel him trying to pull away, but you mold yourself to him even more tightly, knowing that if he really wanted to he could break away from you like it was nothing. “You’re wrong. You would have done this for anyone.” 

“Except for-”

“Even for Scott.” You were quick to cut him off, unwilling to hear him being so harsh on himself.

You pulled back, just enough so that you were able to meet his eyes. You needed him to know that you are being earnest. “You are a good man, Logan. And before you even try to deny it or say I’m lying I know you can hear my heart beat. And I know you can tell when people are lying. And besides, I’ve never ever lied to you, have I?” He shakes his head slowly, one tear falling, and a few more after that. You reached up, brushing them away. He grabbed your hand, gently placing a kiss on your wrist, and then your palm. 

“Y’scared me, sweetheart.” He murmured, voice muffled by your palm still against his lips. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

You slide your hand to cup the side of his face, prompting him to meet your gaze. “You know I can’t guarantee that.” His eyes closed for a moment, and you knew he was doing his best not to shout. “I will always be careful, but I can’t stay back and leave the work to everyone else. If I can help, I’m gonna help.” 

His eyes narrowed, the tiniest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Fine. But we’re getting you trained up and you aren’t going out there without me again for a good long while.” 

You rolled your eyes, the both of you well aware there was no ill will behind it. “If you insist.” 

“I absolutely do.” He pulled you back into his chest, keeping you there until Jean peaked her head in through the door. 

“If you two are done being mushy, there are a few people who have been dying to see you.” 

Ororo rushed into the room, playfully shoving Logan away to scoop you into her arms. She gently checked you over, ignoring the fact that you’d already had several medical professionals on the case. Scott clasped you on the shoulder, reassuring you that for a first mission, this was a success. You laughed before shooting Logan a look that begged him to let it pass. He huffed, but nodded all the same. 

“Shocked we didn't have to keep him from trying to tear the kid apart, but he refused to leave the lab.” Scott nodded his head at Logan, who was continuing to shuffle closer to the table where you sat. 

Well, you would be dutifully ignoring the latter half of Scott's quip, instead choosing to focus on the young mutant. “You mean he's?” 

Scott smiled, nodding. “He’s settling in upstairs.” 

You grinned, glad to know that it hadn’t all been for nothing. You fixed your gaze on Logan, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t even think about failing him out of history as some kind of weird revenge, I’ll know and I will find a way to get back at you for it.” 

Your friends laughed around you, let you know that Charles has ordered in your favorite take out for dinner and started to filter out of the room. Eventually, you and Logan are left alone again, sitting side by side on the metal table. 

“You still owe me an important conversation, ya know.” You bump your shoulder against his. You stay there, pressed against his side with your head leaning on his shoulders. His hand rests on your shoulder, holding you close. 

“Maybe wait until you aren’t in a hospital gown, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes, clearly aware that he was deflecting, but still content to take in his warmth and quiet support. You were safe, and you were home. Not just at school, but with him.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05  @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz  @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

[crsssie]

thinkin' abt Girl Dad!Simon bc 'm UNORIGINAL n WANT HIM SO BAD

girl dad!Simon who LOVES your daughter. Never brings her up for her privacy, but if someone from the task asks he will not hesitate to talk

girl dad!Simon who always comes back from deployment with a little something for her and you. She gets a stuffie, you get a little gift

girl dad!Simon who eventually retires when he comes back one particularly long deployment and your daughter forgets who he is (he's mortified and swears he's never leaving again)

girl dad!Simon who takes her to ALL the daddy-daughter dances, parent conferences, and bring your parent to school days. He hasn't missed a single one, and you have the photos to prove it

girl dad!Simon who gets any and everything your little girl wants. she needs to understand that mommy and daddy have the ability to give her what she wants, so she should aim for it too

girl dad!Simon who preps his baby with everything she needs to know about staying safe — and to call daddy if she ever needs help

girl dad!Simon who hopes that by taking care of you, she'll understand not to settle for a boy who expects her to take care of him

"Mommy's not feeling well, baby." He takes your daughter into his arms, the girl pouting as you sit on the couch and stare at the TV.

"She's watching TV."

"Mommy's thinking." He points at your eyes gently, letting her gaze follow his hand. "Do you see how her eyes are unfocused?"

Your daughter frowns as she notices, pouting. "oh."

"Wanna give mommy a kiss from the other side? Daddy can give her on on this one. She'll feel better."

Your daughter nods, and Simon lets her down n tells her to stay quiet.

She sneaks up behind you as she counts to three, pressing her lips to your cheek as Simon kisses the other, her giggles inconsolable as you grab her to pepper her face. She laughs as she rests on your chest, and you reach up to give Simon a gentle kiss on the chin as he hums.

"Feel okay?"

"Better." You hum. "Will you take her to bed for me? We can talk out here in a bit."

"Just an ear or some help?" He raises a brow.

"Just an ear for now." You pat his hand, turning to your daughter. "Baby, will you go with daddy to bed? Mommy wants to think a little more."

"Good thinking?"

"Yes. Daddy will chase the bad ones away." You give a kiss to the corner of her eye, and she gives you one final hug before letting Simon lift her into his arms.

"Wanna say goodnight to mommy?"

"Night night." She mumbles, pouting. "Will mommy be okay tomorrow?"

"Mommy will." You give her little fist a tap, humming. "Mommy'll make you toast tomorrow, hm?"

"Daddy can." She mumbles. "Mommy's sad. Daddy should take care of her."

"I will. Once you're in bed, squeaks." Simon hums, kissing her cheek as she holds onto him. "Wan' me to read you a bedtime story?"

"Not today..." She lays in bed, blinking as her eyes flutter.

"Of course." He hums. "If you need us just call, alright? Mommy 'n I will be in the living room."

"Yes, daddy." She mumbles. "night night."

"G'night, baby. You're just as important, alright?"

She nods, eyes closing as she falls asleep.

"She alright?"

"Fell asleep." He hums, closing the door behind him. "You alright?"

"Better now." You rest your head on his chest as he scratches at your scalp, humming. "Let's get to bed. You're so wonderful, Si. Such a wonderful husband."

"Hope none of her future partners treat worse than this." He mumbles. "Or else I really ought to show them what a veteran is."

You laugh, patting his chest as he leads you off.

As long as you both are alright.

[endzithefangirl]

"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV"

Authors note: Here's a little Max Verstappen x TechCEO!Reader. Bet you didn't see that comng. Anyway, got the idea for this a few days ago, and I guess my love of Italian food made me finish this

Summary: Max's new relatioship causes a social media stir, but the new couple couldn't care less whilst in Italy.

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader

Word count: 2k

You understood it, to a degree. Max had just broken off a three-year-long relationship right before summer break, and now suddenly he was spending the summer with you. Now you’re at the paddock... No wonder people thought there was some crossover.

The truth? You two met last New Year's at a party for some sporting event. You, being one of the sponsors for your country's national sports committee, were invited, and Max... well, Max was Max Verstappen. You hit it off, exchanged numbers, showed him around your company a few times, and took him to all of your favorite restaurants in NYC. But you knew he had a girlfriend; everyone knew. And he was taking care of her kid too.

That breakup was hard on him. He had stopped loving her, but he couldn't just kick a woman and her kid out of his house. Max waited for them to have a huge fight, and then they just... broke up. And to your surprise, he was in New York the next day, saying that he needed someone to talk to. Bullshit. You knew he liked you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all the way here 'just to talk.'

But here you were, in Italy, spending time with him before Monza. You were currently typing away on your phone, trying to make peace in the finance department. Max glanced up from his phone every so often, stealing peeks at you while grinning.

He had never quite been so into someone like you. You were smart, funny, talented, pretty, and on top of all that - you were also rich. But you were also the most challenging girl to flirt with Max had ever met.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, after watching you tap away at your work laptop for a few minutes.

"Probably. What's the point of having interns if they don't do anything?"

"Then you should consider hiring me; I'm pretty good at helping out," Max teased, looking up from his phone and sending you a cheeky smile. He loved a woman who was in power, who knew what she was doing, and he could tell you were used to being the boss. "Come on, take a break. You know you deserve it," Max encouraged, resting his hand on top of yours to stop you from working some more.

"I guess I could eat…" You say, closing your laptop. "I saw on Google Maps that there’s a nice pizza place down the road. We can go if you’re hungry.”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m starving; let’s go,” he said, reaching for the car keys.

“No, it’s okay, let’s walk,” you stop him. He turned towards you, slightly confused. Usually, women would give anything to drive around with Max Verstappen. Maybe that’s just what makes you special.

The two of you walked out of the hotel, your bodyguard Lenny standing outside the door. The tall, muscular man just nodded as the two of you entered the elevator. Max found it funny that you preferred Lenny guard your stuff more than you. Especially the laptop. He sometimes wondered what you kept in there...

“Is Pierre gonna be at the race?” you asked as you exited the building, breaking the silence.

Max’s head snapped towards you, and he raised his brow. “Uh, yes, of course he is… Why?”

“Because I want to see Kika.”

“Oh, so she’s your secret F1 crush, eh?” Max said, relaxing.

You laughed. “Pierre is a solid seven with a better haircut. Kika is a twelve on a bad day.”

As you got to the bigger streets, you started to understand why Max drove everywhere. Unlike you, who were a chiller and niche celebrity, despite being incredibly rich, Max was a real superstar. Your short walk to the pizza shop became a fan meet and greet, with people coming up to you every three seconds and asking for photos.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the people asking for a picture asked. As you finished taking the photo, you noticed Max’s slightly flustered face as he heard the question. He stumbled, but you answered with a simple “Yeah.”

As you arrived at the restaurant, you noticed that Max was staring at you. He seemed… surprised. You laughed at his facial expression. The sound of your laugh calmed him instantly, his heartbeat beginning to return to normal. Max cursed himself in his head; he was better than this. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it something I said?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly. "No, no... Not really," he reassured you, trying to sound casual. "I was just... thinking."

"Okay, well I'm thinking about the food. I think a Vesuvius sounds great right now."

Max chuckled and quickly glanced down at the menu to hide his embarrassment. "Vesuvius? What the hell is a Vesuvius?" he asked, though his eyes scanned down the menu, searching for it.

"It's a type of pizza," you teased. "It's been like three minutes; have you not even skimmed the menu?"

Max fidgeted under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You tell me. Why are you staring?" Max shook his head, glancing up at you questioningly. He had no idea what you were thinking about. "No... What are you thinking about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"There are pots from 4000 years ago found in ancient Egypt that are made out of an incredibly difficult to manage material and are cut to such perfection that they balance on their round bottom."

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was expecting something totally different. Something that had at least a little bit to do with him. He chuckled, still somewhat surprised as he studied your face. "Where did that come from?" he asked incredulously.

"The Egyptians. They were like, cooking pots and stuff. Royal cooking pots probably, but still," you teased.

Max chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're thinking about cooking pots, and here I am, just trying to figure out what I did to make you say that we're together so casually."

"What do you mean? Are we not together?"

"Well, of course we're together," Max said, his voice taking on a more serious tone now. He glanced around the restaurant briefly, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just... I didn't expect you to say it so casually," he said, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know we were keeping it a secret. I mean, I was at the paddock and all last time, and I took days off work to come to this race—"

Max shook his head, realizing you completely misunderstood what he was saying. "No, no, it's not that... I just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. He took a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "It's just... you're so casual about it... and I'm... a bit too flustered for my own good," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

You softened up a bit. "Oh, okay, I get it. It was just a bit too shocking for you... Yeah, sorry."

Max felt his heartbeat a little faster when you softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it was a bit... unexpected for me," he chuckled, feeling somewhat silly for being so flustered. "But it's fine, honestly."

"Do you think my stomach is gonna have space for gelato later? There's a really good gelateria; I can see it from the window... They make the ones with the macarons..."

Max chuckled, loving how you were so excited about the gelato. "Well, based on the amount of pizza you usually eat," he teased, a smirk on his face. "I'd say you're probably fine."

"No, they put the macarons on the gelato."

"On the gelato?" Max repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he said, leaning forward to get a better look out the window at the gelateria you were talking about. "Well, in that case," he said with a grin, "we're definitely going there for dessert."

After eating so much that your belts barely held, you came back to the hotel, Lenny greeting you at the door as usual. Max's stomach was stuffed to the brim, but he was in such a good mood from the good food and even better company, he didn't even care. He walked back into the hotel together with you, his hand still holding yours. Lenny greeted the two of you as usual, but Max couldn't help but notice the way Lenny looked at you, like he was analyzing you.

"All good, Len. You go to your room for the night," you said to Lenny. He nodded, smiled at the both of you, and then went off. Max watched as Lenny walked off, then turned to you, a small frown on his face.

"He was looking at you funny," he said, a protective edge to his voice.

"He thinks it's funny. That I'm dating a Formula 1 driver."

"What's so funny about that?" he protested, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "He just... I don't know, he's a big fan of yours I don't think he's processed it yet". Max's frown relaxed as you explained it, his ego immediately soothed a bit. Of course he was a big fan of his, who wasn't?

"Oh, so he's a big fan?" he teased, a hint of pride and cockiness in his voice.

You take your shoes off and lay on the bed, your stomach bloated from all the good food "Yeah. Talk to him a bit, I think it'll make him happy" You let out groan as you move "I hate you Italy. You has so much good food... I love it though"

Max chuckled, watching as you dramatically threw yourself onto the bed, your stomach protesting the amount of food you just had. "You're such a drama queen sometimes," he teased, grinning as he took off his shoes as well and joined you on the bed. He lays down beside you, running a hand over your bloated stomach. "You'll be fine," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know what I saw on TikTok?"

Max raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his hand now resting on your stomach. He didn't typically pay too much attention to TikTok, but he was more than happy to listen to you.

"What did you see?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Well first of all, I'm a WAG now. Thank you for that, I will be putting that on my CV. But second, they liked that I was wearing Red Bull merch. I thought they wouldn't like it, but they did"

Max chuckled as you spoke, amused by how casually you mentioned being a WAG, and how seriously you were taking the fact that you were wearing Red Bull merchandise. "Well, of course they liked it," he said with a smirk. "You were wearing the merch of the best team out there."

He gave you a smug look, his hand moving up and tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. "Not to mention the merch of the best driver out there."

[benevolentbones]

beach day | spencer reid x fem!reader

part 2

warnings: swearing, massage? flustered spencer

word count: 1.2k

summary: you and penelope decide to take the team to the beach :)

a/n: thank you sm to everyone who follows me and supports my silly little fanfics!! getting to everyone’s requests soon!! comment if you’d like to be added to my taglist <3

“you want to what?” hotch asked, his dark brows furrowing.

“we should have a beach day! it would be so much fun- you can bring jack.” penelope mused excitedly, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both tried to get more people on board.

it was initially your idea, to invite a few members of the team to go to the beach as the summer heat was eating you alive, it was penelope’s idea to invite everyone. and y’know the more the merrier.

“so will you come?” you asked, a sparkle glinting in your eyes.

“i don’t swim, so i wouldn’t be able to mind jack in the water.” he mumbled, reshuffling the case files on his desk, thinking of his five year old son.

“that’s okay- y/n is a trained life guard, she can look after him in the water.” penelope seemed to have an answer for every one of hotch’s excuses.

he then realised that the two of you weren’t taking no for an answer. he let out a small sigh before meeting your eyes.

“you promise you’ll watch him?” he asked, like you haven’t been babysitting jack for two years at this stage.

“pinky.” you smiled, extending your pinky finger for hotch, who reluctantly locked his finger with yours. he knew how serious you took pinky promises.

“alright then.”

garcia let out an excited yelp, dragging you out of hotch’s office and on to convince the last few members of the team.

so far you had got jj, emily and hotch.

“three down two to go.” you grinned at penelope, her blonde hair bouncing as she dragged you towards spencer’s desk.

derek was standing against reid’s desk, his hands gripping the edge of the table as they were both deep in conversation.

you had thought to wait until they were finished talking before you interrupted them, but penelope had other ideas. she came to a halt, her arm locked with yours.

“how do you fellas say about a beach day this weekend?” she asked, a cheshire like grin on her maroon stained lips.

derek’s attention shifted from the younger male to the two women who stood before them.

“a beach day? a chance to see you ladies splashing about? count me in.” morgan grinned, before turning his attention back to spencer.

“what do you say, pretty boy?”

spencer’s face turned sour, it was needless to say he didn’t really enjoy the beach. he hated hot weather, the texture of suncream and then the dreaded sand.

“um…” he began “i think i’m okay, thank you for the invite though.”

“oh c’mon reid, everyone else is going!” penelope beamed, determined to have everyone go.

“i don’t know- i don’t really like the beach guys…” he trailed off.

“you get to see y/n in a swimsuit.” derek added.

you furrowed your brows slapping morgan’s arm in a playful manner.

“i mean you will!” he laughed, shielding himself from your attack with a case file.

“fine, i’ll go- but not for that reason.” a blush exploded onto spencer’s pale features.

“yes! i’m going to start planning!” penelope couldn’t contain her excitement as she whisked your flustered self away.

“oh it’s totally for that reason.” derek bumped his elbow into spencer’s ribs lightly.

“s-shut up man.”

~

saturday rolled around and the team were on their way to the beach, it was a bit of a road trip to the nearest beach but you weren’t complaining. the sun was out, the heat causing wisps of your hair to stick to your neck. you couldn’t wait to get into the water.

once everyone arrived, penelope scanned the beach for the perfect spot and then began ushering everyone over, making morgan and hotch carry the umbrellas and coolers from the van you took.

you followed in suit, holding onto jack’s small hand to guide him over while his dad did all the heavy lifting. once you had reached the perfect spot you began to lay your towel down as derek positioned the beach umbrella.

everyone began laying out their respective towels and beach chairs, spencer plopping his chair under the umbrella beside you. you gave him a sweet smile before you dug through your bag for the suncream.

“alright mister, suncream time and then uncle derek will make sandcastles with you okay?” you announced, getting jack to sit in front of you.

“hey i didn’t sign up for that-“ morgan began earning a glare from both you and hotch who was mounting a wind barrier to his left.

“-yeah i mean, yay sandcastles!”

once you applied the suncream to jack, he ran off to derek, dragging the man down the beach, bucket and shovel in his tiny grasp. you turned to spencer who was already halfway through a book he had brought for some ‘light reading.’

he was wearing a pair of dark purple board shorts, paired with a white short sleeve shirt that was loosely buttoned up, and damn did he look good.

“your turn spence.” you smiled, taking the book from his grasp.

“i- yeah i already put some on before hand.” he muttered, attempting to take the book back from you.

you rolled your eyes playfully. “well i’ll top you up later- would you do me?”

“do you?” spencer’s voice cracked slightly, a small blush beginning to spread to his cheeks. his mind threatening to wander.

“mhm would you put suncream on my back, i can’t reach.”

“oh right- yeah come here.” he adjusted his seated position.

you stood up, dusting any sand that clung to your skin. you quickly slipped off your white sundress that you used as your beach coverup, revealing a black two piece.

spencer gulped nervously, as you passed him the bottle of suncream. his eyes traced your form, the two piece accentuating your already, in his opinion, attractive figure.

he didn’t really comprehend why he was so nervous, he had seen peoples bodies before, other women at the beach and such. but he had never seen this much of you.

he began applying the lotion, ignoring the heat rising through his body. this felt like a fever dream to him.

honestly you could’ve asked one of the girls to help apply the suncream, as they were already helping out each other, but truthfully you craved spencer’s touch.

his lightly calloused hands massaged your form, trembling down to the small of your back which made your face heat up.

spencer’s hands brushed up your waist, causing your breath to hitch in your throat, his touch soft as he worked in the suncream.

you never wanted this to end, his hands moving up to your shoulders nearing the nape of your neck, and then..

“a- all done.” he stuttered out, handing you back the bottle. you took it back, your fingers brushing against his as you passed his book back to him.

“thanks spence.” you flushed, quickly putting it back in the beach bag to avoid his intense gaze.

“up for a swim garcia?” you turned to the woman to your left, her blonde hair in two braids and her body adorned with the cutest pink frilly two piece.

she shot you a grin before grabbing onto your arm and dragging you off to the water.

“yeah i bet you needed to cool off after all of that, damn girl.” she whispered causing you to become even more flustered.

“oh you’re down bad.” emily laughed at spencer as soon as you were out of earshot.

“as if i didn’t already know that.” spencer sighed, slumping back into his chair.

he was in for a long day…

taglist: @0108s22m

[coldfanbou]

The Greatest Cumback

Yes, I made the title a joke. I felt like it was necessary, and I also got a small laugh about it. Also, this is practically all smut.

Length 3.5K

Gfriend X Mreader

They bowed before waving their hands. “Hello! We are Gfriend!” the girls said in sync before Sowon stepped forward. “And today, we have a very special fan meeting.” The eldest looked at her members, smiling, and felt proud to have everyone back together. “Buddy!” she shouted to the small crowd below. Are you ready?” The crowd screamed back at Sowon. The girls laughed hearing your reaction. “It’s been a long time, right, everyone? Then let’s get started!” The fansign went like any other; you got your album signed by the members and got the chance to talk to them about how happy you were to see them together again. 

Once that was done, though, you got back to your seat and waited for what was next. Eunha came to the front, waving at you all. “Everyone! We have something special for you today. We wanted to show you just how much we love you all, and we’re doing something special for that. Um…” Eunha starts laughing, struggling to think about how to phrase what is coming next. “Well, to show you that we all thought about offering ourselves to you.” There was some audible confusion coming from the crowd, enough for Eunha to have to explain it more, “Don’t make me say it! You get it, right? You get to…” Eunha shyly mimics sex before covering her face. “Anyway,  we’ll pull straws to see our order. While we get set up.” The other members stepped forward, with Yerin holding a small can with popsicle sticks. 

“Alright, who’s choosing first?” Yerin asked. 

“We should let the baby choose first!” Eunha yelled, hugging Umji from behind. The others agreed, and Umji shyly reached in, grabbing one of the sticks. “Two! Umji’s going second!” Eunha yelled into the mic. 

“Eunha! You’re supposed to keep it a secret!” SinB yelled, smacking the older woman’s back. The group laughs before pulling their sticks and making small comments about where they got. 

“We’re ready! Now, let’s get ready.” The girls laugh as they move back. Curtains created small rooms that would separate the members. The staff got you to line up, following the same path as you did for the fansign. While you waited, you got to listen to the girls moans as they had sex. Inching closer to the front, you were getting hard knowing that your turn was coming.

You got to Yerin first; she was laid back on the table, cum flowing out of her cunt, but she was ready for more. She beckoned you and held her legs open for you. “Don’t be afraid,” She teased you, her voice still full of energy. “I don’t bite unless you want me to.” You chuckle at her comment and move closer to her, grabbing your cock and rubbing it against her creamy lips.  Yerin groans, enjoying the feeling of your cock rubbing against her. Reaching up, she grabs her breasts, squeezing them as you prepare to push inside her. 

It’s easy; you slip inside her walls, instantly squeezing down on your cock as you bury yourself inside her. Yering throws her head back, reveling in the way your cock stretches her cunt. “Ah, Buddy, you're so big.” The smile on Yerin’s face makes you want to give her more. 

“Yennie,” you say softly as you lean over and kiss her. Yerin can feel your sincere love and wraps her arms around you, holding you close as she gives herself to you. You hold onto her waist tightly, never wanting to let go. You groan as you feel Yerin’s walls flex around your cock; she is signaling you to move. You tap her thigh in understanding before beginning to thrust; you pull out slowly, letting her walls come back together before splitting them apart with one firm thrust. 

“Oh, fuck,” Yerin moans, unconsciously squeezing your sides with her legs, “Keep going. Show me how much you love me.” You nod and begin thrusting into Yerin at a quicker pace. You bite your lip, struggling to contain yourself. Your eyes wander to Yerin’s breasts, watching as they bounce from your thrusts. Seeing your interest, Yerin wraps her arms around your head and pulls you toward her chest, pushing it out. Your tongue runs between her tits; Yerin purses her lips, letting out soft moans as you move from between her breasts to her right one. You latch onto her nipple, moving your tongue around the hard nub. “Ah, oh, keep going,” Yerin says, feeling a tightness develop in her core. Her breathing quickens as you continue thrusting into her; Yerin pushes herself closer to the edge by running her finger around her other nipple. Her moans begin to grow louder, and she arches her back as her walls tighten around you. “I’m cumming,” she grunts before letting out a loud roar, euphoria washing over her as she cums on your cock, coating you in her creamy nectar. You weren’t far off from your climax; a few more thrusts and you buried yourself inside Yerin, adding your cum to the mixture already inside her. Through staggered breaths, Yerin smiled, the warmth of your cum spreading across her body. Your cock continued to throb inside the young woman, pumping her full of cum. Yerin groped her breasts, squeezing them as she felt the last few spurts of cum enter her body. 

You pull out of Yerin and are waved to the next member. You give Yerin a small wave, and she returns it, smiling. She leans on her elbows and gets ready for the next fan.

You move along the table, and next in line is Umji, the maknae you love so much. She was bent over the table, her skirt thrown over her back. She was moaning softly, cum  running between her legs. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at you, “Thank you for your support.” Umji reaches back, grabbing her cheeks and spreading them apart, her asshole winking as it tries to shut. The sight got you hard. Umji’s fat cheeks were bright red, enticing you closer. You grabbed your slippery cock and rubbed it between her cheeks. Umji’s groans were low; she let go of her ass, allowing the soft flesh to rub against your cock. It was wonderful; you initially moved slowly, but your craving for more grew. You adjusted yourself and slid into Umji’s asshole, her tight walls immediately squeezing your cock.  You grabbed her waist, holding her tightly as you pushed the rest of your cock inside her. You both moaned, the pleasure flooding your bodies. Umji kept her head pressed against the table, looking over her shoulder to see the pleased expression on your face. She flexed her muscles, tightening her walls around you and making you call her name. 

You stayed buried inside her while you let yourself calm down, not wanting to cum just yet. You moved your hand to her soft ass and squeezed the tender flesh. Umji’s moans continue as you play with her ass; they’re soft, almost dreamlike. You massage her cheeks, giving them strong squeezes before letting go and repeating the process. You’d shake them in your hands, watching her cheeks jiggle. 

Once you were ready to continue, though, you stopped, moving your hands back to her waist. You pull out slowly before impaling her on your cock. Umji’s whines filled the air as you began to fuck her. Her tight asshole constricted around your shaft. The warmth of her body made you want more; you sped up, holding her against the table as you pounded away at her ass. “Ahh! Oh fuck, you’re so big, you’re so big,” Umji grunted as she felt your cock stretching out her little asshole. Her slick walls allowed you to move quickly, making her cheeks clap against your body.

“Umji, you’re so tight, you’re so tight.” You groan, almost drooling, as her tight body grips your cock. Umji's moans became more depraved as she begged you to keep going; the cute maknae that you had watched for years was begging for your cock. You were going to give her what she wanted. You held Umji down as you slammed yourself inside her repeatedly, her lewd moans growing louder and louder as she neared her climax. Umji gripped the table’s edge, her body tingling as she reached the edge. You slipped your hand under Umji and pushed her over the edge by rubbing her clit. 

Umji whined as she came, her walls clamped down on your cock, and you were forced to bury yourself inside her, filling her asshole with your cum. You were bent over Umji as your cock continued to shoot out more cum into her stomach. Umji mumbled something you could barely hear. You kissed the back of her head before pulling out, struggling as her walls refused to let you go. You spank the young woman before finally pulling away, your cum oozing from Umji’s asshole. It winks at you as it tries to shut around nothing, letting more cum run out. 

You thank Umji before moving on to the next idol, feeling tired from your last two orgasms. Kneeling on the floor, breasts and face covered in a layer of cum was Sowon. She grabs a towel and quickly wipes her face clean. She beams a smile at you, tilting her head slightly. “Thanks for coming, and thanks for cumming,” She says with a chuckle. The leader reaches for your cock, stroking you slowly. “You must be tired; let me take care of you.” Sowon scoots closer and places your cock between her tits, squeezing the soft mounds together and enveloping your cock. She moves them along your shaft at a slow pace; as the tip pokes up from between Sowon's big tits, she takes a small lick, tasting your salty cum. Sowon smirked and continued to pump your cock between her tits. “Seeing so many people try to get into the event was nice. Did you miss us?”

You gulp, struggling to form thoughts while Sowon continues to pleasure you, “Yes, Of course. I missed you all.” Your words made Sowon’s smile shine brighter; she paused her titjob to kiss the tip. 

“It makes me happy to hear that; I missed Buddy too.” Sowon takes your cock into her mouth, bobbing her head slowly as her hand moves along your shaft. You groan as her skilled tongue moves along your cock, caressing it before returning to the tip to swirl around it. The sight of the beautiful woman giving you a blowjob was becoming too much. You place your hand on the top of her head but let her continue at her own pace. You groan loudly; Sowon pushes herself further and reaches the base of your cock, her tight throat wrapping around it. You feel it begin to vibrate as she moans onto your cock. Your legs grow weak, and you hold Sowon to your pelvis as you cum down her throat. Strength leaves your body as you fill Sowon’s throat with your cum. She manages to pull away and shuts her eyes, letting the last of your cum paint her face. 

She smiles, and as you look at the painted woman, you notice her moving a vibrator into her cunt. How you didn’t notice it before surprises you, and Sowon seems to take notice as she strokes your cock, trying to get you hard for the next member. “Did you think I won’t be doing something like this? I need to cum too.” Sowon says with a giggle. “Now it’s time for you to move on. Please continue supporting us.” You nod, telling Sowon how you will. She flashes you one last smile before kissing the tip of your cock and letting you move on. 

While you did cum again with Sowon, you felt a little more energized, ready to meet the next member. Having moved through half the members, you knew your time was nearly up. Walking through the curtain, you move from one of the tallest members of the group to the shortest member. Eunha was lying back on the table, already worn out from the experience. You chuckle as you see her legs hanging loosely over the table’s edge. As you look at her body, you see the cum marking her stomach and chest; her thighs are glistening as well, clueing you into what had been happening to her. Eunha gives you a tired wave, struggling to get herself into a seated position. “Hello!” She says, mustering as much energy as she can. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the most energy right now. You’re more than welcome to use me, though,” Eunha moves her hand down to her cunt, spreading her lips. Cum dripped from her sore cunt, dropping onto the floor. As you inch closer to the shapely woman, you stare at her thighs, the thick thighs you had often seen shake and jiggle as she performed.

You grab Eunha’s legs and, much like some of the people before you, place your cock between her thighs. You press her legs together and move between her soft legs, releasing a low groan as you slide between her legs and brush against her cunt. Eunha moans softly, feeling your warm cock tease her cunt. Despite being tired, your actions made her want you inside her. She began to whine as your cock rubbed against her clit. “Can you put it in?” Eunha asks, pouting at you. You nod quickly, not wanting to disappoint her. You spread Eunha’s legs and align yourself with her messy cunt. Pushing into Eunha’s tight cunt she groans, “Ah, keep going.”  You bite your bottom lip and continue pushing in, her walls wrapping around you as you split her in two. A slight bulge is visible as you bury yourself inside her; the small woman places her hand over the bulge and groans. “Oh fuck me, please, please, please.” You pull out and ram your cock back inside Eunha. She holds her hand against the bulging area, making her feel tighter. You can feel your cock throb already as you begin thrusting. “Don’t cum yet; please don’t cum yet.” Despite Eunha’s plea, you could only thrust a few more times before you filled her cunt with your cum. Eunha threw her head back and moaned loudly as your cum flooded her body. She wrapped her legs around you, refusing to let you go, “Keep going, I want to cum.” Eunha was breathless, her chest heaving as you tried to make her cum. You continue thrusting, groaning as her walls tighten around you. You want to joke around with Eunha, calling her out for switching her tune so quickly, but you’re being drained of your energy. Eunha pushes you further into her tight pussy, making you quiver as you reach another climax.

At the very least, this time, Eunha cums with you, her walls clamping down on your cock. You thrust a few more times, coating her walls in your cum before burying yourself inside her to leave the rest of your load in her womb. You place your hand on either side of Eunha’s head, needing support. Staring at the young woman, she has a blissful expression on her face; her eyes are half-lidded, and she looks like she’s about to fall asleep. Eunha keeps her legs crossed another minute before finally you. You pull out of her messy cunt, and thank her before moving on. Eunha gives you a peace sign before lying back and resting. 

As you move on, you see it’s Yuju. She was licking her lips and laying back against the table; she gave you a small wave before walking over to you and cupping your cheek. “I bet you’re pretty tired. What would you like to do?” She was utterly right; you were tired. You didn’t want to do much of anything; you wanted to rest.

“Can you give me a handjob?” You ask. Yuju giggles and nods, bringing you over to the table. She places her hand on your cock, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving her hand along your shaft. With her other hand lifted her shirt as she offered you her tits. You leaned in and latched onto Yuju’s modest breasts, sucking on them as her smooth hand ran along your cock. You moaned into Yuju’s chest as she used her palm, rubbing it against the tip. 

“You’re so cute,” Yuju laughs, “I wish I had some milk for you. You’re like a baby.” Yuju slowed her hand, holding the base of your cock and slowly moving her thumb around it massaging your length. “Honestly, I’m glad for the small break. I’ve been hearing Eunha say she’s tired for so long now it’s getting annoying.” Yuju looks over at Eunha’s side, the curtain keeping her from seeing her friend, but her low moans are still coming through clearly. You groan as Yuju moves her hand up to the tip of your cock, her thumb moving in slow circular motions around the tip. “You can cum whenever you want.” Yuju pauses, looking at you with a smile. “Thank you for coming today and supporting us. It really means a lot.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you grunt through gritted teeth.

Yuju laughs again, seeing you struggle. “Your cock is throbbing, you don’t have to hold back. Cum for me.” As if it was an order, you cum in Yuju’s had a few spurts of salty liquid shooting out onto her hand. “That’s it, let it all out. Oh, well, I guess you don’t have very much left, huh?” Yuju chuckles as she pulls her hand away and licks your cum from between her fingers. “It was nice to see you. I hope you can come to more fan meetings.” She says, beaming a smile at you as she waves you off with her other hand. 

There was only one member it could be at the very end, and it was SinB. Moving to her section, you see the young woman bouncing herself onto a dildo, one hand rubbing her clit while the other gropes her tits. SinB’s mouth was covered in saliva. It made sense that, in the end, most people were too tired to have sex. You suspect SinB got some sex, but not enough to satisfy her. You step up to the young woman and present her with your cock. SinB smirks and opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out for you. You push your cock inside the warm hole, feeling SinB’s tongue run along the underside of your cock. Her lips form a seal as she bobs her head, cleaning your cock of the cum and nectar on it. You tilt your head back and groan, reveling in the feeling of her tongue swirling around your cock. 

You begin to thrust gently, wanting SinB to take more of your cock. She willingly accepted it, allowing your cock to stretch her throat. She stays at the base of your cock; nose pressed against your skin, tongue lapping at your balls. As you pull back, SinB laughs, “Oh, that’s so good. I wish you’d fuck me, though. Maybe you could come to our dorm someday.” SinB said with a wink before swallowing your cock again. 

You nod, groaning, “That would be great.” You held SinB’s head and mustered the rest of your strength, thrusting into the back of her throat. The lewd sounds of SinB gagging and moaning on your cock fuels you, giving you the energy to continue. Saliva splashes onto SinB’s face, covering her chin. Her eyes become bloodshot, and tears run down her face as she starts to run out of breath. You pull out, giving SinB a chance to breathe. As she does, you slap her face with your cock, degrading her. She moans, letting you slap her with your cock as she bounces on her dildo. You slip your cock back into her mouth, slamming it into the back of her throat. SinB opens her mouth wide, letting you use her like a toy. She could feel your cock throbbing against her tongue. SinB moved her hand to her clit, wanting to cum as you skull fucked her. In a matter of seconds, you began cumming down her throat. SinB stares at you, her eyes half-lidded as she drinks every drop of cum. 

“Thank you for the cum,” SinB mutters, wiping her chin. She pushes two fingers into her mouth, playing with her tongue as she gathers her breath. You return the thanks from SinB and move on, heading back to your seat, absolutely drained. 

When everyone had finished, there was a moment of quiet before the girls emerged from behind their curtains, naked, with their bodies marked by the various fans present. The girls leaned on each other for support, struggling to stand up. Sowon held her microphone. “Buddy! Thank you for showing us your love tonight!” You all clapped, showing your support for the girls. “We’ll make sure to try hard for you guys!”