#you're absolutely killing me with all this it's so good!!!!!!

[seewetter]

My first thought at hearing horror described as "a predatory force seeking out the exposed and vulnerable elements of society" made me think of a movie about a monster tormenting people who refuse to be vulnerable and at the end the "final girl" has vulnerability but must spend a highly uncomfortable eternity with the monster.

But then I realized that while that would make a good horror movie, it would just be the flip side of the coin of horror movie avoidance. The audience then simply gets "action movie"-like gratification where the victims have to open up and be vulnerable and laughs in schadenfreude when they fail at this task. It could be good horror, but it wouldn't challenge its target audience, who don't relate to the victims in the film. The audience would side with the monster, and watching the predation with a certain level of emotional detachment. "Ahaha, that frat bro couldn't show vulnerability, go get him". This could be a fun movie, but it's not a template for the appeal of horror. And people who don't want to be vulnerable in that particular way can become more entrenched in their mindset, because the film isn't just victimizing (people like) them, it mocks its victims, it addresses the audience as people superior to those victims.

If, say, a slasher movie features a bunch of frat bros who never open up to each other, this doesn't reflect real vulnerabilities of frat bros, who IRL do tell each other pretty harrowing stories and show emotional vulnerability in the right social setting -- the reason shitty men bully emotional or "weak" men in group settings is cishet patriarchal pecking order / violence. These guys do all these weak and emotional things all the time, just under the "right" pretense. So a horror film where frat bros are killed for being repressed kind of misses its mark as social criticism.

But even if the film killed frat bros or karens or other groups of privileged people who either repress something or hide a violent underbelly of their group, a challenging horror film walks a fine line.

Any horror film that simply *gives them what they deserve*, say a slasher film where frat bros die one-by-one as the monster seeks out guys who aren't, as prev put it "reduced to tears", is wish-fulfillment for an audience critical of frat bro culture. Like I'd get a kick out of it, I think such stories should be told and I'll watch at least a few of them, but I know deep down that I'm watching something that doesn't actually affect me. Don't misunderstand me: I don't think entertainment needs to be pure. I don't think it needs to teach valuable lessons. But since people above are discussing the kind of infantile mindset where someone basically doesn't like about horror the very thing that makes it horror (the helplessness) I can't but mention that to really get audiences to experience helplessness, you need *them* to actually feel helpless. So watching some Karen who totally deserves to get chopped to bits feel helpless ...only works if *you're* a Karen like that yourself -- and even then might not work if you rightfully(?) suspect this entertainment was made by other people to make fun of you or feel superior to you.

Schadenfreude (enjoying the damage others face) is absolutely a viable ingredient for entertainment: but absurdly, it's an ingredient for a feelgood movie. A morality play that preaches to the choir.

This is one reason why trans women and people with physical disfigurements have been so attentive to transmisogyny and ableism in horror. Because in both cases, the mainstream has been making feelgood movies where the monster is Other and people can feel superior to that form of otherness. They can pat themselves on the back for thinking that disfigurement makes someone monstrous or uncomfortable or undesireable or disgusting. A disfigured monster's body would not be half as ableist if it wasn't part of a sort of morality tale feelgood movie, where bad people get what they deserve and good people go rewarded. Giving the disfigured monster more sympathy effectively doesn't just muddle the ableism, but also muddles the predation and violence of the monster. Which won't really make sense to the audiences who wanted a morality play to feel better about themselves but also--- morality plays are a part of horror, but they are kind of like decaf coffee. It's horror without the helplessness of horror.

Even a film with an amoral ending, like Cabin in the Woods, is basically just defanged horror, it's an action comedy with horror tropes and weird sci-fi and fantasy elements. The amoral ending (just letting the world get destroyed) is cool and entertaining, but this is definitely a feelgood film.

If someone wants to make a film about unavoidable pain and suffering, then they can't shy away from actually inflicting that fictional pain and suffering on their fictional characters. And if that movie is meant to avoid the thing where wealthy suburbanites are victims of the murder doll or demon home invasion or whatever, if you want to show the vulnerability of homeless people for example...well then you can't shy away from portraying the futility of their attempts to get help.

Feelgood films (both the Action Horror movie and the Schadenfreude Morality Play) have their place in the world of storytelling and can say interesting things. But the impulse to always want "soft" horror is maybe partly due to how effective it can be, as a genre, to actually make people live through helplessness and unavoidable pain. I don't think the last type is more legitimate, but I do think, especially when it deals with marginalized pain or deals with privileged pain in a way that truly hits its mark, people will tend to not want to watch it.

It's not uniquely American for people to not want to get to close to this sort of pain. It seems like the product of neoliberalism: even the most victimized people in the poorest countries are told that what truly matters is their authenticity, their integrity. Labour is increasingly expendable, people can easily lose everything... and so they are being comforted with the idea that at least they *are themselves* (hence why I'm always trying to define being trans not as "who I am, who I truly am inside" and more in terms of "my freedom of association and self-definition is being taken from me, using biology as an excuse". When people want to *be themselves*, experiencing a story where they have to be vulnerable can be incredibly difficult.

I'm still not sure why rich people applauded "Parasite" -- did the film fail on some level, or did they shield themselves from the film's message -- and I can't say what the magic ingredients are to make a story impact its target audience. Parasite, though, is about poor people told from their perspective -- and rich folks are the Other. So maybe that explains its muted effect: Like that social media post about bullies at school cheering on Dumbo the elephant beating up his bullies. This is the story of Dumbo, audiences cheer Dumbo on because they like him. They aren't vulnerable to the critique of Dumbo or Parasite, because the hero isn't a bully like them. And bullies are fundamentally unsympathetic as characters. Audiences tend to want them to die.

I think a really psychologically effective horror film is one where the protagonists are people the audience relates to, who do bad things that the audience somewhat dislikes but can find understanding for and where the antagonist isn't a bringer of morality, but simply a force of destruction. Where the core defining aspect of the monster isn't how clearly it reflects some real-world problem, but how relentlessly it pursues its tastes or agenda. The monster(s) acts like a real-life problem in its horrific effects, but it isn't allegorical. Or at least not allegorical for an issue near and dear to the audience's heart. But I'm not sure how much horror can actually cause audience introspection. I don't think we can fully expect entertainment to hit the mark on that. People watch entertainment for the fun of it -- if someone wants entertainment to be transformative, they need to take notes from entertainment that appears to have a genuinely transformative effect (like "A Short Film About Killing" which supposedly ended the death penalty in Poland or "Jaws" which supposedly caused a temporary shark murder spree).

But regardless I think it makes sense to realize that horror films that make the audience feel smart for avoiding bad things and horror films that harrow the audience with inescapable horror are pandering to different desires and are, in a sense, different genres. If you know that, you have a better grasp on how to design your own stories or how to recommend stories you come in contact with.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[redeemingvillains]

ps i love you - mattheo riddle ft. the slytherin boys

summary: mattheo plans an unexpected valentine's day surprise for you

word count: 3.3k

a/n: honestly, this healed me a little bit. this is for anyone that just needs a heaping dose of love from our favorite boys, all of whom are absolutely head over heels for you. ♡

Your eyes fluttered open slowly and you smiled as you curled into your soft sheets, yawning and stretching your sleep-heavy limbs, enjoying the sacrosanct moment of a new morning, before the noise and thoughts from the day invaded you.

But the feeling faded almost as soon as it came and within moments your brain switched on and you felt a pang in your chest as you remembered...today was Valentine's Day and despite the devilishly handsome curly haired boy that had stolen your heart and claimed you as his own, you would be spending it alone; his father had whisked him away to something urgent, and he wasn't the type of man to argue with.

Mattheo had all but disappeared last night with quick but searing kiss and a promise to make it up to you. And how could you possibly be angry with him when you melted at his touch, at the look in his amber eyes, at the feeling of his lips against your own which you sensed even now as you ran your fingers over them?

You sighed, slowly dragging yourself out of bed despite the weighted sadness you felt and began readying yourself for the day.

You were in no rush to see the rest of the castle gushing over the holiday; the Great Hall would inevitably be awash in red and pink, filled with flowers and owls delivering love letters. There would be the predictable wave of students dosed by love potions, and an obscene amount of PDA that you would have loved to participate in that now made you sick to think about. Ugh. That alone made you want to stay in your room, but you took your time getting ready, grounding yourself as you did a full self-care routine.

Once dressed, you wandered down the corridor by your dormitory into the common room and found a tall, lanky figure leaning against the stone wall, eyes focused on his feet which he shuffled back and forth as he twirled a toothpick in his mouth.

"Enz?" you asked, as you got closer.

His eyes shot to you as they widened, brightening.

"There she is!" he said excitedly as he straightened up and righted his suit jacked. "You look divine today. Simply beautiful" he winked.

You blushed as you shoved his shoulder in reprimand and laughed at him.

"You're sweet" you conceded.

"You're sweeter" he cooed. "And I could keep this up for hours, babe, but it's my honor to escort you to our breakfast date."

"What?" you asked through another laugh as your face scrunched in confusion. Surely he has to be joking, you thought. Mattheo would strangle him with his bare—

"Oh! Shit! Yeah, uh here" he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and handing you a sealed envelope.

You narrowed your eyes skeptically at him as you reached for it until you recognized your name scrawled in Mattheo's small script on the front and eagerly tore it open.

Good morning. You look gorgeous. I don't have to be there to know that you do. I love starting my days with you, and it kills me not to be there this morning especially. Enz will have to do. Tell him to stop laying it on so thick, this isn't a hallpass to eyefuck you all morning—

You peered over the top of the letter to see Lorenzo smirking appreciatively at you and smiled.

—And tell him if he steps a single toe out of line with you, I will take sincere pleasure in rearranging his face.

You laughed quickly and covered your mouth with your hand. Lorenzo's eyebrow quirked inquisitively but you shook your head, dismissing it.

Tell. Him. It's for his own safety. Enjoy breakfast. PS, I love you

You folded the letter slowly, unable to contain the smile on your face, absolutely giddy at the penned words you held and the notion that Mattheo had planned something like this.

"Gorgeous?" Enzo said as he offered you his arm.

You linked arms with him cheerfully, a new pep in your step as he led you through the common room and into the castle.

You received a fair share of confused glances which Lorenzo reveled in, beaming at everyone who did a double take at the two of you together, knowing full well who you really belonged to.

"Wonder what's for breakfast?" you mused as a pair of Hufflepuffs shuffled to get out of your way.

"Oh, we're not going to the Great Hall" Enzo clarified as he took a last-minute turn down an unfamiliar corridor.

You looked up at him, surprised, and he caught your eye.

"And have you eat with these peasants? Please" he scoffed, stopping in front of a door you'd never seen before. "No, Matty boy flew you breakfast, from Paris" he said with a flourish as he pushed the door open wide and you gasped at the scene in front of you.

The doorway opened to a small balcony with an astonishing view of the grounds, the myriad pine trees frosted with snow and the Black Lake that was shimmering like a sheet of obsidian in the cold.

Despite the wintry scene, there was a small table laden with steaming cups of hot chocolate, a mountain of pastries, macaroons, croissants and treats all the way from France. Gods I love magic you thought to yourself as Enzo pulled out your seat and handed you a blanket from a large pile which you took eagerly as you wrapped your hands around the warm mug in front of you.

The hot chocolate was rich with a large helping of whipped cream that warmed you all the way through to your toes and brought you right back to the time Mattheo took you to Paris himself and you sipped on the decadent drink by his side. Your heart ached briefly at the memory, but Enzo was quick to pick up on it, and eagerly began chatting away with you about classes, quidditch, and even the Ravenclaw he had his eye on and you realized how nice it was to have this time together to sit and really talk to one of your closest friends, to hear how he was doing.

"You didn't want to take your crush to breakfast?" you teased, kicking him gently under the table.

"And miss this? Babe. This is the highlight of my month, maybe my entire fucking year" he said as he smirked at you and popped another macaroon in his mouth.

You knew he was laying it on thick, but there was a hint of truth to it too, and the knowledge that he valued your friendship that way made you awash with emotion.

His eyebrow quirked as he looked over your shoulder and smiled sadly.

"Well, my lady, this is where I leave you. Our love shined bright though brief."

You turned to see Blaise and Draco behind you, each carrying an extraordinarily large bouquet of flowers that they were peeking out behind with equally large smiles.

"Guys! This is so sweet!" you exclaimed as they set the bundles down and embraced you, your feelings starting to bubble to the surface again at the amount of love and affection you felt.

"Of course, darling, Happy Valentine's Day" Draco said as he kissed your cheek.

"Here you are, love" Blaise said, flourishing a letter that sent your heartbeat soaring.

Another? You reached for it eagerly, tearing into it haphazardly, craving Mattheo's words.

Did you like the hot chocolate? I hope it reminded you of our trip to Paris. I'll never forget how happy you were, the way you shined brighter than that whole fucking city... And what we got up to in the hotel that first night, when you wore that red lace set... Needless to say, don't let any of these idiots read these letters—

"Soooo, what's he writtennnn?" Blaise asked, peering over page.

"Nothing!" you replied, bending the top of the note protectively as you kept reading.

You deserve breakfast from Paris and everything your heart desires. The boys have my credit card, go get whatever you want in Hogsmeade. No smutty books, though, you have a real boyfriend that's better than any book boyfriend. And no clothing that's too revealing, unless it's for me... in which case, you should know, I'm partial to red lace... PS, I love you

Your eyes twinkled as you looked up at Draco and Blaise with excitement.

"It's fucking on" you said, as they cheered.

You went into every. single. store. Lollipops, chocolate frogs, candy hearts and pumpkin pasties from Honeydukes, the most divine stationary and a new set of quills from Scrivenshaft's, and then cue the full montage of you trying on outfits for hours while the two boys sat amidst a pile of shopping bags, enjoying their candy and eagerly goading you on.

"Yes, babe."

"Smashing it!"

"Absolutely."

"You have to get it, get both actually."

"Love, you're wearing it better than the fucking model."

Until Draco turned, finally, yelling over his shoulder to a passing attendant.

"We'll take the lot!"

And gods help the people in the bookstore. Draco could barely see over the bags and boxes he was carrying and now Blaise's arms were laden with every single book you've had on your TBR list, chatting excitedly with you about them.

"Nooo, isn't that the latest one in the series? Didn't that come out like, yesterday?!" he exclaimed as you held the hardcover book in your hands like a holy relic and nodded.

"Can I borrow it when you're done?" he asked quietly.

"We'll just get you one too!" you said excitedly, grabbing a second.

Both of them followed you without complaint, cheery and upbeat, treating you like the princess Mattheo saw you as, they all saw you as, as you made your way back to the castle in the pending twilight, high on candy and your shopping spree.

Mattheo had undoubtedly pulled out all of the stops today, so surely there had to be a something big for the evening?

You tried every way you knew how to coax it out of Draco and Blaise but they held strong, insistent that you be patient as they led you through the castle, down a first floor corridor you hadn't been down before as you continued to question them incessantly.

Was it a five-course meal from your favorite restaurant in London? A private concert from Taylor Swift? I mean, what could possibly top the day you'd had already? They stopped in front of a plain door and pushed it open to reveal... the kitchens, large, industrial-looking, and decidedly...not what you had expected.

But then your eyes swept the space and landed on Theo, in an apron, working diligently at the counter on something as Enzo moved quickly around him, in an apron of his own, a dash of flour on his cheek.

And then you saw the small wooden table just big enough for the five of you, replete with mismatched chairs and a few floating candlesticks.

And then the smell hit you.

"Bella!" Theo shouted, waving you over in flurry of Italian you couldn't follow.

You approached slowly, taking in the scene of him rolling homemade pasta with practiced ease and the steaming pot of sauce on the stove that smelled divine, like fresh tomatoes and roasted garlic, and your stomach growled in response.

"You're cooking for me? you asked, your voice a hoarse whisper at the overwhelming gentleness and kindness, the domesticity of it all.

You'd seen Theo break someone's nose, you'd seen him put puking pastilles in someone's goblet and trip a first year just for the fun of it, but you'd never seen him do anything so... tender.

"Yeah" he said quickly, acknowledging you. "And if you don't start rolling, we're not eating, tesoro" he said, tossing an apron at you, which you caught with a laugh, tying it on eagerly as you moved next to him, bumping his shoulder as you copied his movements and the gentle rolling of his hands.

Draco and Blaise poured wine and helped set the table and the three of you shared stories about your afternoon, all of you chatting about your day, about everything and nothing in the way a family would, natural, easy, unforced and relaxed.

Theo wiped his hands with a towel and then reached into his back pocket, brandishing your letter, which you unfolded and read as you leaned back against the counter, shifting into a world where it was just you and Mattheo's words.

Gorgeous - Theo promised he'd make you something good for dinner, and if I trust him with anything, it's food. Fuck. This one's hard. Because it should be me with you tonight. Please know there's nowhere else on earth I'd rather be than right there with you, right now. The boys will do the best they can, I know they will. Try not to laugh too hard when Theo tells you about the time his Nonna ran from the cops in Sicily. He thinks it's hilarious, and it's his way of trying to impress you. He knows how much you mean to me. Enjoy, my 'bella donna' PS, I love you

You smiled at the familiar last sentence, tracing your fingers over the ink, like you could feel him through it and you realized you were biting your lip to keep from crying. You had kept the feelings at bay all day, but this, being here tonight without him, was hard on you too. You missed him so fervently it was like your whole body ached.

"Ok, ok" Theo said, gently putting his arm around you as he guided you towards the table. "Sedere, sit down, now we spoil you."

You sniffed and swiped quickly at your eye as you settled into your chair and the boys followed suit, surrounding you. And then Theo placed the most perfect bowl of pasta you'd ever seen in front of you, more beautiful and better plated than any restaurant you'd ever been to.

"Theo, this is..." you said, looking up at him, at a loss for words.

He nodded his appreciation. "It's my Nonna's recipe. Best fucking sauce in Sicily" he said as he scooted his own chair in across from you and winked as he raised his glass in a toast.

"To the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts" he said as you all raised your glasses alongside him.

"Here's to cheating, stealing and drinking. May you cheat death, steal hearts and always drink with me!"

The boys cheered and you laughed as you clinked glasses and settled into your meal.

You twirled the pasta and delved into your first bite, the most incredible taste taking over your tastebuds as your eyes fluttered closed.

"Mmmmm Theeeeooo" you said.

"Fuck. That was hot" Enzo whispered as you opened your eyes to glare at him.

"I'm telling him you said that to her" Draco muttered as Enzo kicked him under the table.

"It's soooo good!" you exclaimed, ignoring them all as you dug in for your next bite.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Nonna dodged the cops?"

Your eyes watered with tears at his story, just as much from laughing as from the overwhelming joy you felt at Theo telling it to make you happy, to impress you, consistently eyeing your reaction to his every word.

After awhile you gestured around the room with your fork, savoring the last bites of your meal.

"It's hard to imagine that the heartthrob of Hogwarts himself isn't doing this for one of his girls tonight" you said, teasing Theo.

Theo put down his wine glass and looked at you like you'd asked him if he wanted to be a muggle.

"This?! Bella. Please" he said, shaking his head. "This is marriage shit right here. I don't just do this for anyone. Matty boy loves you, that's for fucking sure."

You smiled and nodded as you looked back down at your plate.

"Yeah he does" you agreed, thinking to yourself just how much he'd proven that today.

You sat around the table for hours, listening to the boys talk and laugh and joke, the night washing away in a haze of a perfect meal, a full belly and a couple of glasses of wine. You eventually dropped your head onto Blaise's shoulder comfortably.

"We wore her out boys" Enzo said affectionately, tilting his head to mirror your own and smile at you.

"Let's get you back" Blaise said, standing with you.

The two of you walked with your arm wound around his in amiable silence all the way back to your dorm, and it wasn't until you were nearly there that Blaise whispered, "Did we do alright?" with a sense of vulnerability you'd never heard from any of them before that stopped you in your tracks.

"Blaise" you reassured him, grasping his arms as you looked up at him. "I was dreading being alone today, I think you could all tell I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown the entire day..."

He nodded his head sadly.

"But each of you completely swept me off my feet, and made me feel so loved, so cherished, and so special. I couldn't have asked for four better stand-in-Mattheo's" you said, smiling widely. "Thank you" you whispered, pulling him into a warm hug.

"You deserve it, and more" he murmured against you, squeezing you tightly. "Sweet dreams, YN" he said, as you unwound from each other and you made your way towards your room.

The warmth you'd felt throughout the day carried you up to bed, lingering with you as you crawled into your pajamas and under your covers as you reached for Mattheo's letters, reading and re-reading his words as you traced your fingers over his script.

I love you, I love you, I love you he'd written and you marveled at how someone could be so far away yet still make you feel so deeply cared for. Your heart squeezed, the sadness you'd felt throughout the day numbing to a dull ache as your eyes fluttered closed.

You slipped into a deep sleep, lost to all sense of time when your mattress dipped, rocking you awake. You turned slowly, groggily to see Mattheo crawling under your covers, his eyes bright, cheeks flush with exertion.

"Matty?" you whispered hoarsely, your heartbeat quickening as you tried to wake your brain, your body up fast enough to respond.

"Gorgeous" he whispered, with a sigh of relief as he reached for you, pulling you quickly into his arms and nuzzling into you as your limbs intertwined with his, your heart resting against his own.

"How are you here right now?" you asked.

"Told 'em to fuck off, he didn't need me anyway" he replied quietly.

You pulled back to look at him, the confusion clear on your face.

"Alright, not exactly like that — it doesn't matter, I'm here and I'm so fucking sorry about today, I had this whole thing planned for us and —"

"—Matty—"

"—You deserve everything, gods everything you do for me—"

"—Matty—"

"—I just love you so fucking much, please don't be mad at me—"

And finally you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips and winding your hands up to grasp his face, to center him, to force him to hear you, to feel you, and within a moment you could feel the stress leaving his body as his shoulders fell, and his body molded against yours, his hands wrapping around you as he slid you beneath him and kissed you back earnestly, passionately.

You pulled back for just a moment, meeting his twinkling brown eyes, taking in his lips, swollen from your kiss.

"I missed you every moment of the entire day" you whispered. "But there wasn't a second I didn't feel completely loved. Thank you."

"I love you so much" he said, his head shaking slightly as his eyes met yours and he brushed the back of his fingers over your cheek. "You really have... no idea."

You blushed, nibbling at your bottom lip.

"Actually, I think I do" you said, pressing your lips to his again.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco

[sakur4ii]

Code Name: Rabbit

Chapter 2: The Rescue

←previus next→

English is not my first language!!

Warning: kidnapping, death, mention of corpse, mention of prostitution.

January 18, 22:00 PM

You're furious right now, and your heavy footsteps give it away. As soon as you finished watching the footage from all the cameras at that specific moment, you got up from the couch, changed into black, comfortable clothes, and put on your mask.

You're armed—one gun on each side of your belt and knives tucked under your pants in case of an emergency. You enter the building practically fuming, but even with your heavy steps, you're silent due to your lack of footwear—a signature trait of Rabbit that Lyara always found amusing.

You climb the stairs, noting the deafening silence, the cold beneath your feet as you ascend each step. You try to control yourself, reminding yourself not to kill anyone the moment you reach your destination. As you arrive at the base of the stairs leading to the third floor, you glance at the camera Lyara installed—when it recognizes someone, the live feed is displayed on a screen on the third floor. Good. They know you're here, and you want them to.

You start climbing the stairs, your brow furrowed—it's been that way since you left your apartment. You reach the door, which only opens when you place your hand on a touchscreen, identifying you as one of the few people with access to this floor. The door slides open, and pastel colors flood your vision—a bunch of sofas, a mini kitchen, a giant TV, and the bathroom door, all visible from the entrance. Everything except what lies behind the curtain against the back wall.

Seated on the couches in the center are the girls Lyara asked to gather, Omar, and the one person you’d shoot on sight if you could.

Judging by their worried expressions and the fact that no one greeted you, they’ve already noticed your bad mood. So you decide to keep this short and walk toward the center.

"Dan, come to my office, please." You manage to keep your tone calm.

You don’t see it, but Dan swallows hard.

You move to the curtain and push it aside, revealing a door. You open it and step into your office without looking back, walking toward your desk and pulling out one of the guest chairs.

Dan—the guard or bodyguard responsible for securing the stairs leading to "The Forbidden Garden"—enters your office, shutting the door behind him. Smart choice. You offer him a seat, and with poorly concealed anxiety, he decides to take it.

Without him noticing, you draw one of the guns from your belt, step behind him, and press the barrel against the back of his head. His face twists in absolute horror.

"I think you know why we're in this situation right now, so start talking, or I’ll blow your brains out." Your voice remains eerily calm, though inside, you’re itching to pull the trigger.

Dan starts stammering.

"They blackmailed me! I swear!"

"Who?" You press the gun harder against his head, urging him to keep talking.

"A man—from the Garden! He was wearing one of those white escort masks..."

You shove the gun against his head again, and he stammers once more.

"He asked for information about you and her. I told him the little I knew, then he gave me his phone number and told me to call him the moment she was alone in the building. Please, don’t kill me."

The man looks like he's about to burst into tears, sweating like a pig. There's something he’s not telling you, and that only deepens your frown.

"What did he blackmail you with?" You push the gun harder against his skull, and his reaction confirms you hit the right question.

Before speaking, he swallows loudly.

"I already told you everything. Please, don���t kill me."

You lean in close to his ear, tilting your head so he can't see you, but he can catch a terrifying glimpse of your mask.

"With. What. Did. He. Blackmail. You?"

"He offered me a million dollars."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to shoot him.

"Please, please, please..."

You almost pity him. Almost.

Your jaw tightens. This idiot can’t be serious. You knew something was off about him when Lyara hired him, but his record was spotless—too perfect for someone wanting to work in one of the darkest corners of Gotham. Lyara convinced you it was just paranoia. And now, this man has betrayed you both for money. Fantastic.

"Give me the phone number and get out. You have one week to find another job. You're fired."

Dan pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, sets it on your desk, and bolts out of your office as fast as he can.

You start pacing the room, replaying the traitor’s words in your head.

Then, you slam your fist into the nearest wall, ignoring the dull pain in your knuckles and the fresh hole in the concrete.

---

January 18, 23:45 PM

The night is dark; you can hear the crickets and the cars. Hidden in the bushes, you watch the kidnapper’s house, ignoring the cold and staying as concealed as possible. A drone hovers near one of the house’s windows, and even from a distance, you recognize it as one of Oracle’s drones. Fuck. You need to find a way inside without Barbara detecting you, and you must be careful—there’s a chance one of the Bats is already inside.

The house is registered under Marcel Gravois. Unfortunately, the man is dead, so you dug deeper, discovering that Elliot Gravois, Marcel’s grandson, inherited this house and several other properties. You have to thank Lyara for teaching you her hacking tricks, and also thank Elliot for being an idiot—it was as easy as tracking his number and pulling his IP. It didn’t give you an exact address, but this is the only house under a Gravois in the area.

Elliot Gravois seems to be involved in illegal activities beyond kidnapping; otherwise, Oracle wouldn’t be here. But you’ll investigate that later—right now, your priority is finding Lyara.

Silently, you step out of the bushes, feeling the cold grass beneath your feet. Near the house, you hear sounds of a fight coming from the top floor. You move in the opposite direction from where you saw the drone.

There are several windows. You approach the nearest one and pull up with all your strength—nothing, it’s stuck. You move to the next, but it has wooden planks nailed across it, so you don’t even try. The third is also locked. Frustrated, you approach the wooden door—also locked.

You sigh in resignation. Kicking the door down feels like a bad idea, so that leaves you with one option—the window near the drone. You walk toward it, and of course, it’s open. The drone turns toward you. You wave and make a shushing gesture, hoping it gives you the benefit of the doubt—or that you don’t end up in a cell within seconds.

"Alright, here we go," you think. You jump onto the window frame and, as quietly as possible, slip inside the house. The first thing you notice is the intense fight happening upstairs—walls shaking, furniture crashing, like they’re having a good time.

You reach for your belt and draw one of your pistols. Keeping controlled steps and maintaining a Low Ready stance, you begin clearing the perimeter.

The living room is surprisingly neat. No photos, no television. You check the kitchen—it looks used, but not much. Moving into the hallway, you notice a smaller drone following you. You turn—it’s another of Barbara’s drones. You ignore it. She was going to keep an eye on you anyway.

The hallway is empty—no paintings, no pictures, just closed doors. You scan each one. A bedroom with a bathroom—empty. A guest room—empty. A bathroom—empty. At the end of the hall, a different door. You press your ear against it—silence.

You glance at the drone, then press yourself against the wall, keeping your gun close to your shoulder with the barrel pointed upward. Your free hand grips the doorknob, turning it slowly and silently. As you open the door, you peek inside—a staircase leading down. A basement.

Your free hand returns to your gun, still aiming at the ceiling. Moving sideways, you descend carefully, step by step. The dust and dirt beneath your feet make you wince, and the creaking wood makes you tense. The drone behind you is getting on your nerves.

It’s pitch dark. If it weren’t for your rabbit mask, the dust would have you sneezing. Halfway down, the fight upstairs is no longer audible. If something happens to you down here and it’s not worth it, you’ll blame Barbara for the rest of your life.

A faint light catches your eye as the staircase takes a sharp turn. More steps lead further down. You crouch slightly, spotting the light illuminating a chair at the end of the basement. But it’s not empty—you see sock-covered feet.

Another step down—you see knees. Another—you see a lap. Step by step, until you finally see the unconscious figure.

As soon as you recognize the hair color, you holster your weapon and rush forward, heart pounding with anxiety and fear. You reach her and check her pulse.

Thump, thump, thump. Steady. You exhale in relief.

You bring a finger under her nose—she’s breathing evenly. Just unconscious, with some bruises.

Kneeling, you begin untying the rope binding her feet to the chair. That’s when you notice her dislocated knee. That bastard.

You start planning how to get Lyara to the hospital without revealing your identity. You pull the knife from beneath your pant leg and cut the ropes. But just as you finish freeing her, you notice the drone rotating between you and a whiteboard you hadn’t seen before.

Annoyed, you step away from Lyara and approach the board, noticing the photos pinned to it and the desk cluttered with papers beneath.

As soon as you see the images, your stomach churns.

Each picture shows a different woman. Some are naked, others clothed. Some are badly injured, while others show no physical wounds but wear expressions of despair, horror, fear—even rage. None of them were okay.

One of the photos is of Bea. Taken in this same basement.

You scan the papers on the desk, fury building inside you. Careful not to leave fingerprints, you sift through them. They’re reports—each woman listed like cargo. Names, ages, details. Some pages even have sticky notes—probably from Elliot Gravois.

Then you reach Bea’s file, and your heart sinks.

Name: Beatriz Sullivan

Age: 26

Sex: Female

Accepted or Rejected: Rejected

Reason: Not a requested woman. Clients do not want transgender women.

Post-it: January 18, The Burrow

Hands trembling, you pull out your phone and take pictures of everything—papers, images. You’re going to get to the bottom of this. You’re going to find out why Elliot Gravois made this personal.

Stowing your phone, you return to Lyara. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, you lift her bridal style and prepare to leave.

The drone follows, but this time, it moves ahead—leading the way. Good.

You ascend quickly, squeezing through the doorway without jostling the blue-eyed girl. The fight upstairs still rages. Practically sprinting through the hall, you hear a loud crash above—then silence. The fight is over. Shit.

Reaching the window, the smaller drone peels away, leaving you with the larger one, still stationed outside. You sit on the windowsill, swinging one leg out, then the other, making sure Lyara’s head doesn’t hit the frame.

You start moving quickly—but freeze. A shadow stretches from a nearby building.

You look up—and there it is.

Gotham’s most feared and admired silhouette.

You feel his eyes piercing into your soul. But you don’t have time for this.

You start walking again.

You don’t care if he follows. You’re heading straight to the hospital. You already have a plan.

---

You leave Lyara with the doctors and run out of the hospital—you need to get to your apartment as soon as possible, and luckily, it’s close. You sprint through the streets of Gotham, staying within the shadows. Your bare feet press against the cold pavement, adrenaline surging through your body, but all you can think about is Lyara.

Once you reach your apartment, you pull off your mask and rush to your bedroom. You change into something comfortable but not the clothes you usually wear as Rabbit. You get rid of your weapons, keeping only the knife hidden in your boot. Then, you head to the bathroom, wash your feet, and put on your shoes. Taking a moment, you run your fingers through your hair, throw on your signature cap, and leave your apartment. As you descend the building’s staircase, your phone rings—it’s a call.

You don’t stop walking. You keep moving down the stairs, exiting the building as you answer the phone.

—"Hello, good evening. Am I speaking with [Name] [Last Name]?" A woman’s voice comes from the other end of the line.

—"Yes. Who is this?" You respond, masking your breathlessness, pretending you weren’t waiting for this call or running through the streets.

—"I’m calling to inform you that Lyara Valtieri has been admitted to Mercy Hospital. Your number is listed as her only emergency contact. Could you come in to fill out some paperwork and discuss her condition?"

—"Of course. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes."

The woman hangs up after telling you they’ll be expecting you. You shove your phone into your pocket and start running even faster, this time with the wind at your back.

The night is surprisingly calm for Gotham, and you reach the hospital without any distractions or obstacles.

Inside, the stark white lighting is blinding compared to the dark streets. You approach the reception desk. The receptionist immediately recognizes your voice and hands you some forms to fill out. After completing them, she gives you directions to Lyara’s room. You thank her and head toward the elevator.

As you press the button for the third floor, you think about what the receptionist told you. Lyara is stable—some bruises, but the only serious injury is her dislocated knee. A couple of months in a cast, followed by rehab, and she’ll be good as new. Now, all that’s left is to wait for the drugs in her system to wear off. After some final tests, she’ll be discharged.

You step out of the elevator, making a few turns—right, then left—until you find room 407. Your hand grips the doorknob. You take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and exhale slowly. Carefully, you crack the door open and peek inside.

Lyara lies unconscious on the hospital bed. The receptionist mentioned that she had woken up briefly, given her name, begged for you, and then passed out again.

You step inside and close the door behind you. Dragging the stool from the corner of the room, you place it beside her bed and sit down, gently taking her hand in yours.

Guilt settles in your chest. If you looked in the mirror right now, you'd probably have the expression of a kicked puppy. You truly feel awful. Both of you knew what you were getting into when you turned The Burrow into a place where information is sold—a meeting spot for the rich and the criminals, a refuge for women desperate for money.

You still remember how recruitment worked at the beginning—wandering through Gotham’s red-light districts, handing out business cards with the club’s address and a wad of cash to women who needed an escape. How difficult it was to earn the respect of the criminals in the area. And thank god it was Lyara who handled the rich clientele, because you can’t stand them.

At some point, exhaustion takes over. you don't even notice when you fall asleep.

---

As soon as Barbara saw a person wearing a black bunny mask with bulging red eyes, she should have alerted Tim, who was inside the house fighting with Elliot Gravois, informing him of an unwanted company and a possible threat. However, it was the gesture for silence that made her hesitate, because who sees a drone and asks for silence? So she decided to stay quiet and follow this mysterious person, there was no need to distract Red Robin for now.

What Barbara didn’t expect was to find a poor girl kidnapped in Gravois' basement, nor did she expect the mysterious person to come just to save her. She imagined her surprise when she saw the amount of information in that basement. She watched as you took pictures but decided to let it go, preferring to focus on helping you protect the girl, guiding you through the house.

—Who is that?— A rough voice asked over the communicator.

—Not a threat, let them go, the girl in their arms needs a hospital.— Oracle responded without room for debate, earning a grunt from Batman.

—Try to find the girl, maybe she can give us useful information.

—Of course.

Red Robin captured Elliot Gravois and decided to be the one to interrogate him. He didn’t touch the evidence, it wasn’t necessary; Barbara had scanned it with the drone, and the physical evidence could be handed over to Commissioner Gordon. While Red Robin interrogated Elliot, Batman called Nightwing. As soon as Oracle found the kidnapped girl’s name and the hospital she was admitted to, she sent the information to both of them so they could investigate together.

Barbara continued to delve deeper into the girl’s life. Her name was Lyara Valtieri, there was scarce information on her besides living in an apartment in the Upper East Side and owning a nightclub in The Narrows, nothing particularly important. There was barely any information about her parents, but it seemed she came from a wealthy family. This only made it more puzzling that she had been kidnapped, as up until now, the kidnapped women were prostitutes or homeless women without families—women who wouldn’t be missed. This made her furrow her brow in confusion.

She reviewed the information again—wealthy family, apartment in an affluent area, nightclub in The Narrows... Where was this nightclub located? Her hands quickly typed, finding the address and the name of the nightclub. "The Burrow" sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it... oh wait, of course! It was the nightclub her father mentioned at lunch, where they found a murdered woman... She typed again. Beatriz Sullivan, 26 years old.

A hunch led her to search through the reports she had scanned with the drone. She went through a lot of names of different ages and found what she was looking for. One of the women kidnapped by Elliot Gravois was that girl, Beatriz. Why did he leave the body at that nightclub? Why did he kidnap the owner? How could the two women be connected?

The night was going to be long.

Mercy Hospital; January 19, 4:57 AM

Your consciousness slowly awakens. You begin to hear muffled voices that become clearer as you start to stir. You feel a tight grip on your hand, which is strange because the grip seems like a pattern. You don’t open your eyes, even though your back hurts and you want to stretch, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to pretend to sleep. The voices are now clearer in your head, a man is speaking to Lyara.

—Did you know the man who kidnapped you?— The voice is serious but kind, with a tone of understanding, as if not trying to pressure her. You’ve heard that voice somewhere before.

—No, I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.— Lyara responds, she’s lying, but that’s something only you can tell. And even if the man notices, it could go unnoticed, as if she wasn’t sure she hadn’t seen him, as if she had forgotten, but the man doesn’t press.

A second voice surprises you, and this is when you’re grateful to have your face hidden between your arms because your eyes widen in surprise. Now you understand that the grips were Morse code "don’t move" was what Lyara wanted to tell you.

—Do you know the person who saved you? The girl with the bunny mask?— The voice is rough and intimidating, dry but direct, it’s impossible not to recognize it, because it’s Batman’s voice, and now you know who the other man was—Nightwing is in the room too.

You close your eyes again and try to focus on your other senses, especially touch and hearing.

Lyara tightens her grip on your hand, she’s good at acting but is too tired, afraid of slipping up if she hasn’t already. Two years ago, you both created an entire story for situations like this. You repeated the lie so many times that you almost started to believe it yourselves. But should she really? She could just say she didn’t know what they were talking about, she was unconscious anyway. Now she would appreciate having woken you up when she woke up.

—I’m not sure what are you talking about, Mr. Batman.— She opts to say.

Now, Batman is no fool, he’s been observing, scrutinizing her gestures and micro-expressions, but from his position at the door of the room, he can’t see the person who is sleeping next to her very well. He can’t see the grip on their hands because she made sure to hide them away from the bed, hoping Nightwing noticed that.

This interrogation isn’t helping them, they’re not getting any useful information, Batman grumbles. Nightwing looks at him over his shoulder and catches the message “let’s go,” so as soon as the younger one says goodbye, they both leave the room.

Once they leave, Lyara starts breathing normally again; she didn’t even know she had been holding her breath. You lift your head and stretch your back. The pain you had been ignoring starts to become unbearable, and the crack of your bones from stretching doesn’t surprise you. You let out a yawn.

—Oh my god, my heart almost fell out of my chest.— Lyara says, putting a hand on her chest and letting out a long sigh.

—How long have you been here?— You raise an inquisitive eyebrow that doesn’t last long, then rub your eyes to clear away the sleep.

—About five minutes before you woke up, when I noticed your breathing change, I almost freaked out.— She laughs and takes your hand when you place it back on the bed.

You can’t help but look at her with a mixture of concern and admiration. Even with the bruises on her face, even with a cast on her leg, she still finds a way to laugh.

—We’re going to have to talk about a lot of things, Lya.— You tighten your grip, and she gives you a sheepish smile.

—I know.— She whispers.

🩷🩷🩷

Tag list!!

@anamiranda7383 @crystal-freak24 @serlazvi @regloml @jscrawls @cxcilla @heartjwonie @pix-stuff @hjgdhghoe @ritzes28 @zlovesreading @astrelz @omnivirgo @onlybe-satanonce

[transformers-spike]

Honestly the main reason I picked KO for the poll is because I think he's one of the few cons you can actually try reasoning with apart from maybe Dreadwing who I don't think we see interacting with humans. Breakdown pre mech might not kill you but after Mech he's definitely going to. Shockwave is actually pretty safe so long as you aren't in the way of work or giving him a reason to dissect you. Starscream would definitely enjoy killing said human but I think he could be manipulated into letting you live. As for Airachnid or megs.... I'm not sure any human propositioning them expects to live 😭 especially Airachnid. Soundwave is too loyal to meg and doesn't seem particularly fond of humans but considering we're about cassette size and look somewhat similar to cybertronians I think there's a couple of universes where he LOVES humans.

I don't necessarily think KO would Yes to a human going down on him but I think I could talk him down from killing me or at least I'd be able to get away from him(he's intelligent but also kinda a dummy).

On the off chance he does say yes he's still disgusted but tabooness of it makes it kind of hot I think human's survival rate goes down drastically

If you do a bad job you're absolutely dead

If you do good however congratulations(condolences) you are now a decepticon's new playtoy and dirty little secret

fucking hell I love this take Thank you for telling me about your reasoning, I am fascinated by this, and I honestly agree with you. Damn, the human who became his little plaything had no idea things would go this way. Gets even worse now because being partners with Breakdown, KO would absolutely be down to share his pet and show him that not all humans are bad (bitch). Breakdown is very skeptical at first, but he's open minded enough to try RIP human

[positivelyqueer]

[ID: three versions of a poem. The first is the poem in its entirety and the next two are progressively blacked out versions.

Poem 1 titled First Drink, reads: "when you're a kid, it's easy to think that having an "addictive personality" means no one can get enough of you. then you grow up, and your poetry professor tells you to stop writing about whiskey because there is absolutely nothing interesting about the fact that you're a drunk. when i first learned about alcohol-induced amnesia, or "blacking out," i was still able to stop myself from it. i spent my nights creating new mixed drinks and good memories. i can't ever forget the first time i had just the right amount, and it didn't have to be alcohol. it could've been anything. it can be an addiction before it is ever a vice. because if i swallowed it and finished it and it didn't kill me, it must be some kind of medicine, the first thing worth my good health. i'm not remembering it perfectly, but there is a trap door beneath my feet that no one has the key to. i can't open it, not even with a drink, not even when i offer to give up my entire body. but all the same, praise to the bottle sunrise. praise the best friend therapist, so designated by this holy mixture. praise the Lyft driver, this unlucky ferry-man crossing the river Styx. poor old god. when i am unable to make the passage, he does it for me.

Poem 2, titled Third Drink, reads: "addictive personality" means no one can get enough whiskey when i "black out," i stop creating new memories. i can't forget because i didn't first remember the trap door can open with a drink, when i offer up praise to the bottle best friend the designated driver, this ferry-man god. when i am unable to he does it for me.

Poem 3, titled Fifth Drink, reads: when i offer to be the designated driver i do it for me. /end ID]

Progressive erasure from I'd Rather Be Destroyed https://buttonpoetry.com/product/id-rather-be-destroyed/

[hyuckiefluff]

Dr. Dreamy | Part 2

pairing: doctor!na jaemin x fem reader genre: smut wc: 5.1k summary: you’re the best valentine’s day gift jaemin’s ever had the pleasure of unwrapping. content warning: explicit sexual content, some bdsm-ish stuff (bondage), temperature play, breast play, usage of sex toys, multiple orgasms, edging, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), mating press, lmk if i missed any! a/n: couldn’t wait for valentine’s day to post this sooo here it is (granted, over a month late) but i hope it makes up for the wait and satisfies all those who were craving a part two <3 thank you so much for reading and loving the first part. also, if you wanna chat or just see me in my natural habitat, hit me up on ig @/jenokosmo. oh and it feels important to add that juno by sabrina carpenter was on repeat while writing this. “have you tried this one?” picture jaemin saying that lol

part 1

Valentine’s Day had been exhausting for Jaemin. He barely had the energy to even think. The hospital was a madhouse. He’d never expected that so many injuries would come from couples trying something new with their partners. By the time he clocked out, it was already 11 PM, and he couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him for missing your first Valentine’s Day together. 

But as soon as he stepped through the door, his thoughts of guilt disappeared. There you were, lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. You were wearing nothing but the skimpiest piece of lingerie he’d ever seen before.

His breath caught in his throat as your gaze fell on him, a slow smile curling on your lips. “Long day?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness.

Jaemin’s throat tightened, but he managed to choke out a response. “Yeah… you could say that.” His voice cracked slightly as his eyes scanned over your body. “You look....”

“Good, I hope?” You giggled softly when he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Absolutely,” he said, swallowing hard. “…Are you trying to kill me?”

You smiled and stood up slowly, giving him a full view of your curves. His gaze followed your every movement as you sauntered toward him. You stopped just inches from him, his body stiffening in anticipation. His hands ached to touch you.

“What’s the matter?” you teased, pressing your body against his lightly. “You look like you want something.”

Jaemin bit back a smirk, trying to hold on to his composure. He leaned in, brushing your hair back from your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “And you look like you're offering something.”

You laughed, the sound of it making him feel lighter, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest, or the tightness between his legs that was only growing. You seemed to notice it too, your hand slipping down his chest. “I think you might be right,” you said with a wink.

Jaemin tried to maintain some semblance of self-control, but his hands betrayed him by wandering to your waist on their own. You flinched slightly from the coldness and he smiled at that.

"You know," he said, with a half-smirk, "I'm not that easy." There was a playful challenge in his eyes. "You have to try harder than this."

“Oh, really?” you grinned, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Well, I think I can manage."

He felt the heat in his body surge just thinking about what you had planned for him. When you turned and began leading him to your room, he couldn’t help but let his eyes trace every curve of your body, lingering on the flimsy string of fabric between your cheeks—just a bow for him to undo.

Jaemin followed you into the bedroom, his mouth going agape at the sight. Candles flickered softly on the bedside tables, and rose petals were scattered across the floor and on the bed. The whole scene looked straight out of a movie, but it was real, and it was for him.

“Wow,” he murmured, genuinely impressed. “Princess, this is amazing. I should’ve done this for you…” His voice dropped, a slight frown forming as he looked at you.

“You can do it next year,” you replied, and the fact that you were already planning another Valentine’s Day with him made his heart swell. You closed the space between you, pulling him down by his neck and kissing along his jaw.

“You must be tired,” you whispered against his skin.

Jaemin's hands roamed over your back, cupping your ass making you gasp at the sudden touch. When your lips parted, he took the opportunity to kiss you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you’d been eating.

“Not anymore,” he whispered, lifting you up by your hips, your legs locked around his waist. He carried you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, his lips moving against yours with need.

You pulled away, and for a moment he thought you would kiss him again. Instead, you gently pushed him down onto the bed and guided him to lie back. His chest rose and fell with anticipation, lips parted as you climbed over him and settled on top. He stayed still, pretending to be unaffected, but you noticed the way his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back.

"I want to try something new," you said, your voice laced with playful daring.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh? Do I get a say in this?”

You paused for a moment before tugging his shirt up and over his head, letting your fingers graze his skin as you did. Your gaze roamed over him slowly, as if committing every inch to memory. His broad shoulders, abs that tensed whenever he took a breath, the faint happy trail he’d stopped shaving just because you said you liked it, the love bites still lingering on his chest from the other night.  

Reaching for his hand, you guided it to the delicate bow at the center of your bra, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Go on,” you murmured, “unwrap your present.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, smirking. He tugged on the bow and the bra fell open, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help the soft, reverent exhale that escaped him. “Fuck…” he groaned, his hands reaching to touch you, but you stopped him with a soft but firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, leaning in to kiss the frown from his face. “Let me take care of you first.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest, but then you were gone. He saw you searching in the drawer, and when you returned to the bed, you had something hidden behind your back. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear.

“Do you trust me, Jaem?”

He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Of course.”

Then, you pulled out a blindfold, and he froze, anticipation and excitement flooding his system in equal parts “What are you planning, love?” he asked, his tone soft but amused.

“Something you’ll really like,” you whispered, placing a kiss below his ear.

Jaemin chuckled nervously, shivering slightly. “Should I be worried?”

You only smiled, slipping the blindfold over his eyes. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as his world went dark. His other senses immediately heightened and he tensed when he felt you reach for his wrists.

The soft touch of silk against his skin made him flinch. “Wait—what are you—” His breath hitched as you wrapped the restraints carefully around him.

His fingers twitched, an instinctive urge to move, but the fabric held him firm. He gave a small, experimental tug, testing the hold, and a shiver ran through him when he realized he couldn’t easily free himself. There was something almost dizzying about being kept like this, unable to touch you, forced to wait. The helplessness only made his excitement burn hotter.

“Wow,” he mused, voice light but strained, “Are we into bondage now?”  

Despite his attempt at humor, you didn’t miss the way his chest rose and fell a little faster when you gave the restraints a small tug.  

You leaned in, letting your lips ghost against his ear. “I want to see if you can last…” you whispered, your breath sending another shiver down his spine.  

Jaemin swallowed, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What do you mean…” he asked, careful now, as if realizing he’d just walked into a trap.  

You didn’t answer right away, and the silence only deepened the anticipation clawing at him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, to act unaffected, but the combination of the blindfold, the restraints, and the sheer uncertainty of what you’d do next made it impossible to be calm.  

And then…cold.  

A sharp gasp tore from his lips as the ice cube slid across his chest, its sudden chill stealing the breath from his lungs. His entire body stiffened, muscles flexing against the cold shock.

“God—fuck…” he cursed breathlessly. He yanked at the restraints, desperate to get away from the bite of the ice but craving more of your touch at the same time. “You really like torturing me, huh?”

You laughed softly, a wicked note in your voice. “Torture? No…” you murmured, trailing the ice lower, just skimming the waistband of his pants. “I just want to see how far you’ll let me go to make sure you feel really good.”

Jaemin let out a strained breath, his fingers flexing against the restraints. He was still trying to hold onto some shred of composure, but his body was betraying him. He felt himself grow harder in his pants and he wanted to beg for you to release him but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break down so easily.

“Tell me, Jaem… have you ever touched yourself on a particularly chilly night?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing.  

“What—…” His breath hitched when you slid the ice cube lower, past his hip bones. “I… I don’t know… I suppose so,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.  

“Did your cold fingers feel nice?” you continued, drawing the ice in slow circles on his skin. “Did you like it?”  

Jaemin was trying to focus on your words, but the heightened sensation of the cold against his burning skin was making it impossible to think. The contrast was overwhelming, making his hips jerk involuntarily.  

“I—fuck… I guess so,” he breathed.  

Without warning, you pulled his pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen and startling both of you. 

“You seem excited,” you said, letting your finger graze the side of his shaft. His breath stuttered as he tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  

The next thing he felt was cold sliding over his tip.  

“Shit—” he gasped, his whole body jerking as he tried to sit up, hunching over in a desperate attempt to regain some control. His bound wrists strained against the silk restraints, but they gave him no leeway. And then you did it again, this time, dragging the ice along the side of his cock, the sensation both shocking and exquisite.

“Fuck… th-that feels weird…” he shivered slightly.

His lips were red and wet from how he kept biting them, trying not to moan too loudly.  

You leaned in, kitten-licking the tip while still holding the ice against him.  

“Wait—” he moaned, his hips bucking up instinctively.  

With one last teasing kiss to his tip, you pulled back, watching the way he twitched, the way his body practically vibrated with pent-up need.  

“Looks like you’re ready to play.”  

Jaemin exhaled shakily. The way you were handling him was so different to what he was used to. He was always the one setting the pace, pulling pleasure from you at his leisure. But now, you had him completely at your mercy. And the craziest part was how much he was enjoying it.  

He heard more movement, some shuffling and the quiet creak of the mattress as you settled back in front of him. His muscles tensed in anticipation, his whole body straining against the restraints. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you down and take what he needed but all he could do was wait.

“Jaem, do you know what a cock ring is?” you asked, your voice so soft and innocent that for a second, he thought he must’ve misheard you.  

“Hm?” His brain was lagging, too focused on the lingering cold of the ice cube melting against him. Then your words sank in. “Yeah,” he swallowed.  

“Good,” you hummed, and before he could react, he felt your warm hand wrap around him, pumping once, just enough to make his hips twitch, to make a moan escape his throat before he could swallow it down.  

And then something hard pressed against his dick.  

“Fuck—” he hissed, his body tensing as you carefully slid the cock ring into place. His sensitivity was already heightened, and the combination of your touch and the unfamiliar tightness made him shudder.  

“I want you to hold on as much as you can,” you murmured, trailing your fingers up his stomach, nails lightly scratching at his skin. “Can you do that for me?”  

Jaemin groaned, tugging at the restraints in frustration. “You’re so fucking unfair.”  

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his hip bone. “I’ll take that as a yes.”  

Jaemin’s breath came in sharp, uneven pants as you pulled away, leaving him aching for more. His head tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed hard, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice shaky. His fingers clenched and unclenched where they were bound, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping nothing. “You’re really trying to kill me…”

You only smiled, still running your nails lightly down his torso, making his abs twitch. “You’re being so dramatic, Jaem.”  

His head snapped up at that, eyes still blindfolded, but his frustration was written all over his face. “Dramatic?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Princess, I’m so fucking hard it hurts, and you’re just—” He groaned, pulling against the restraints again. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.”  

You hummed as if considering his words, then leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below his navel. “But it looks like you’re enjoying it.”  

Jaemin’s hips twitched, but he still managed a weak scoff. “I’d enjoy it more if you actually fucking did something.” His voice was strained, cracking at the edges.

You let your hand drift lower again, wrapping around him with a slowness that had him sucking in a sharp breath. “Is this what you want?” you murmured, your fingers squeezing just enough to make him twitch in your grasp.  

“Fuck—yes, that’s what I fucking want—”  

You gave a single stroke, dragging your hand up his length at an agonizing pace.  

Jaemin let out a throaty whimper, and the sound only intensified the heat pooling in your lower belly.  

His chest heaved as his thighs trembled. His whole body jerked, but the cock ring kept him from reaching the release he desperately chased.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, his voice practically a whine. “Princess, please, I need—”  

You tightened your grip slightly, cutting him off with another slow, teasing stroke. His hips bucked into your hand, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fucking enough, and the frustration in his voice was turning into something dangerously close to begging.  

“Please what, Jaemin?” you asked, tilting your head.  

His lip was pulled between his teeth so hard it was turning red, his whole body trembling from restraint. “Please, just—fuck, I don’t even know—just something, please, princess, I can’t—”  

His voice cracked again, revealing his desperation in every syllable. He was completely wrecked, yet still nowhere near getting what he wanted.  

And that was exactly how you wanted him.  

When your mouth dropped down on his dick again, you took in more than just the tip this time. You sucked and licked him just the way you knew he liked.

“God… oh god,” he groaned, his hips jerking up instinctively, but you kept him firmly in place, pressing down on his thighs.  

“Be good,” you murmured against his swollen tip, lips brushing the heat of him. “Or I’ll stop.”  

Jaemin let out a shaky breath, his fingers twitching at his sides, unable to do anything but take what you were giving him. “Fuck… you’re so—” His voice broke into a strangled gasp as you sank back down, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling along his length. 

He was losing control. His thighs trembled under your touch, ragged gasps escaping his lips. His body was already screaming for release, but the cock ring kept him stuck on that unbearable edge, holding him in a storm of pure, agonizing pleasure.

“I can’t… anymore… please.” His voice was strained, broken apart by breathless moans. “Please, take it off.”  

You pulled back just enough to let your breath fan over his tip. “Take what off, Jaem?”  

“Everything,” he choked out. “Let me touch you… let me see you… let me fuck you…please.”  

The little laugh you let out made his stomach tighten painfully. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve held out longer just to make you work for it. But he was past the point of caring about winning right now.

“Well…” You let your hands caress down his thighs, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch. “I think you’ve been patient enough.”  

The first thing to come off was the blindfold. Jaemin blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted, the dim light in the room almost blinding after what felt like hours in the dark. His gaze flickered over your form, hovering over him like a lioness about to pounce. Fuck, he forgot you were braless. His hands twitched against the restraints, desperate to touch you.

Then his eyes dropped lower. His dick was painfully swollen, red at the tip, the cock ring still keeping him from the relief he needed. His breath caught as you reached down, fingers brushing his base before you finally removed it. The rush of sensation that followed had his whole body tensing, his abs clenching as he gasped through the sudden overwhelming relief. He was seconds away from—  

You moved to undo the silk restraints, and the moment his wrists were free, he lunged.  

You let out a sharp squeal as he grabbed your arm and yanked you down, pressing your body flush against his chest. In one quick movement, he flipped you onto your back, looming over you with a wicked, predatory grin.  

“Shouldn’t have fucking released me, princess,” he growled, voice still rough from moaning. He licked his lips, eyes raking down your body like he was deciding where to ruin you first. “You’re gonna take everything I give you now.”  

There was no fear in your gaze—only pure, smoldering desire.  

Jaemin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring you, tongue sliding past your lips as his hands finally claimed your body. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing, teasing, all while his hips rolled against your barely clothed core.  

Then, he flipped you onto your stomach. You gasped, feeling his body press against your back, his lips tracing a heated path from your shoulder to the nape of your neck.  

“Wanted to do this since I walked through that door,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your underwear, undoing the tiny bow with a slow pull. His eyes went dark with greed and desire when he saw it fall apart and expose your bare backside to him. 

He kissed along your spine, then rocked his hips against your ass with a shuddering sigh before flipping you over again.  

You were already breathless, your mind hazy, and he still hadn’t even touched you where you needed him most.  

But then, just when you thought he was going to finally take you—he suddenly grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed, shifting you so you were face-to-face with his abs.  

Your brows furrowed in confusion, until you felt his dick sliding between your breasts.  

“Gonna let me fuck your tits, princess?” he murmured, voice husky.  

Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, and without hesitation, you pressed your hands against the sides of your chest, squeezing your breasts together, trapping him between them.  

Jaemin groaned, the sound deep and raw, before spitting onto your chest to lubricate the area.

You gasped softly, the sheer filth of it making your thighs squeeze together, but Jaemin was also too far gone to tease you about it. He let out a low, guttural fuck as he thrust, slow at first, watching himself slide between the plushness of your breasts.  

“Shit…” His breathing was heavy, his fringe damp with sweat, his jaw slack as he fucked into the tight heat of your chest. “Letting me fuck your perfect tits—fuck.”  

The sounds filling the room were obscene. The wet slide of his dick against your skin, the breathy moans slipping from his lips, the quiet, desperate whimpers coming from you.  

Your legs clenched again, seeking friction, your own arousal dripping down your thighs.  

Jaemin’s rhythm faltered. His thrusts grew uneven, more desperate. “I’m—fuck, I’m close—”  

Suddenly, his hand was on your jaw, tilting your head up.  

“Open for me, princess.”  

You parted your lips instinctively, watching through hazy, lidded eyes as he pumped himself, working himself closer and closer—until the first warm spurts landed across your chest and tongue. His thumb swiped through the mess on your chest, and before you could even react, he brought it to your lips.  

“Taste.” His voice was hoarse.  

Your tongue flicked out to catch it. His breath stuttered as he watched you.  

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his fingers pressing against your tongue just a second longer before pulling away. His cock twitched against your stomach, already getting hard again.

You let out a small whimper, rubbing your thighs together, the ache between your legs only growing sharper.  

Jaemin caught the movement immediately.  

“Oh?” He smirked, eyes flicking down to where you were shamelessly pressing your legs together for any friction. “You want more?”  

You whined, squirming.  

He hummed, as if amused. “Poor thing.”  

“Jaem…” Your voice came out as a whimper, breathless, desperate.  

His smirk deepened. He loved seeing you this way—helpless, needy, falling apart before he even touched you properly. 

But he wasn’t going to make it easy.  

“What’s wrong, princess?” His hand ghosted over your stomach before slipping between your legs, fingertips grazing your soaked folds. “You need help?”  

You bucked your hips, but he barely applied any pressure, making you whimper in protest.  

You let out a frustrated sob, moving to take over yourself, but his hand shot out and gripped your wrist, pinning it to the mattress.  

“Ah, ah! We can’t have that,” he tsked, eyes flashing dark. 

The next thing you know, your hand is being replaced with his own, two fingers sliding through your folds. Your entire body jolted at the contact.  

Jaemin groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your swollen clit. “You like having my cock between those pretty tits that much?”  

You barely managed a nod, too lost in the feeling of his fingers teasing you.

“Such a messy little thing,” he teased, rubbing slow, agonizing circles over your clit, just enough to make you desperate, but not enough to give you what you needed. “I should make you wait. Make you beg for it.”  

“Jaemin—”  

His fingers pushed in, stretching you, filling you just enough to make you gasp.  

“Holy fuck,” Jaemin groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. His cock was already leaking against your thigh, his body trembling as he tried to hold himself back. “You’re so tight. You’re gonna fucking choke my fingers.”  

He pumped his fingers in and out, slow but deep, so deep you were writhing beneath him.  

“Jaem, please—” Your walls clenched, thighs trembling.  

“Hm?” He purred. “Tell me exactly what you want.”  

Your eyes were glassy, your body begging for it. “Please, just fuck me.”  

Jaemin let out a sharp exhale, visibly shaking as he tried to hold himself back.  

“You—” His voice broke. He looked down, seeing how you were practically dripping down his fingers, and groaned, cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”  

His fingers slipped out with a wet, filthy sound. Before you could even whine, he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wide and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance.  

Your breath caught.  

But he didn’t push in.  

He just teased, rubbing himself between your folds, coating himself in your slick. He watched with dark, hooded eyes as you twitched beneath him, whimpering at every brush of his cock against your swollen clit.

“You want it?” His voice dripped with sin.

“Jaem—”

“Beg for it.”

The jerk was using your own tricks against you.

Now, you were regretting edging him earlier, because this… this felt like hell.

You whined, your nails digging into his arms. “Please, Jaem. Please. I need you. I need your cock inside me, I—fuck—I can’t—”  

That was enough for him. With a wrecked groan, he slammed inside you in one stroke, bottoming out so deep you saw white.  

A choked cry left your lips, your entire body arching off the mattress.  

“Oh my fucking god—” Jaemin’s voice broke, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you were sure it would bruise.  

He was shaking, breathing ragged, his cock twitching inside you as he tried not to cum right then and there.  You were so tight, so wet, so warm. He felt like he was going insane.

“You—” His voice was strained, wrecked. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”  

His thrusts punched the breath out of you, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your stomach, your walls clenching around him like a vice.  

“Holy shit—fuck—” Jaemin groaned, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. “You’re so tight—I can feel you fucking squeezing me—”  

You couldn’t even form words, just moaned and whimpered, nails raking down his back.  

Jaemin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees, pushing them up and folding you beneath him.  

The angle —oh god—the angle had his cock hitting so deep it left you shaking, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.  

“There we go,” Jaemin groaned, watching you writhe under him. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”  

“Jae—Jaemin—”  

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re taking me so well, princess. So, so well.”  

His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. The pleasure crashing over you all at once.  

“Cum for me, baby,” Jaemin rasped, barely holding himself together. “Make a fucking mess on my cock.”  

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense your vision blurred, your entire body shaking under him as you cried out his name.  

Jaemin groaned, feeling you clench around him. His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep, moaning against your throat as he came again, filling you completely.  

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing and shaking limbs.  

Jaemin finally lifted his head, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes dark.

He smirked a cat-like smile.

“I hope you don't think we’re done.”  

He was still inside you, his cock twitching, throbbing, still semi-hard despite just coming deep inside you. He could feel you clenching weakly around him.

You didn’t want it to be done.

You felt empty, even with his cock still buried inside you. You needed more, needed all of him, needed him to ruin you completely.

And he could tell.  

Jaemin tilted his head as his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him. His thumbs traced slow circles into your skin both soothing and possessive, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.  

“Think you can handle more?” The low rumble of his voice had you feeling dizzy.  

You nodded, too fucked out to form anything coherent.  

He hummed, pretending to consider. “Now that I think about it… you were pretty mean to me earlier.” His hands slid lower, gripping your ass and giving it a sharp squeeze that made you jolt. “Do you even deserve it?”  

“Yes—yes, please, Jaem—”  

He laughed, a breathy chuckle that broke apart into something rougher, needier.  

“Insatiable little thing.”  

And then he was pulling out achingly slow, dragging every inch of himself through your trembling walls. The friction sent a helpless whimper tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin nearly lost his mind at the sound.  

He stared down at you, his ruined, pretty girl. Face flushed, hair sticking to your damp skin, lips swollen and parted, body still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

He growled, gripping your waist and flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement.  

You gasped, heart pounding as Jaemin manhandled you effortlessly, positioning you exactly how he wanted with your chest pressed to the mattress and ass high in the air.

He moaned, running his hands down your spine, over the curve of your hips, before gripping your ass and spreading you open for him.  

“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way your slick dripped down your thighs, his own cum still leaking from your core.  

His cock throbbed painfully at the sight.  

“Fuck, baby, I made such a mess of you.”  

You whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, trying to tempt him. But Jaemin only smirked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you squirm.  

“What do you want, princess?” His voice was low, smug.

You whined, pressing your face into the pillow, trying to grind back against him.

“Jaem—please—”  

He tutted, gripping your hips to hold you still. “You’re so cute when you beg.”  

Then, he slid inside you again, slowly making you feel every inch. You cried out, hands gripping the sheets desperately.

Jaemin groaned, rolling his hips slow but deep. His cock pressing against a spot that made black spots appear in your vision.  

“Oh, my god—”  

“That’s it,” he praised, gripping your waist tighter. Watching the way your back arched, how you clenched around him so perfectly.  

He was so deep like this, hitting angles that had you completely unraveling beneath him.

“God, you’re perfect for me,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, making you choke on your breath.  

His hands traveled down, reaching for your arms, and before you could even react, he pulled you up, pressing your back against his chest. One hand snaking around your waist, the other gripping your throat lightly.

Your moan was sinful, body trembling as Jaemin fucked up into you, the new position letting him bury himself impossibly deep.  

“Shit—” Jaemin choked out, pressing his lips to your sweaty temple. 

His free hand slid down your stomach, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing torturous circles in time with his thrusts.  

You gasped sharply, hands grabbing at his wrists.  

“Too much?” He teased, his voice taunting, but the way he was shaking against you, the way his thrusts were growing sloppier, told you he was just as close as you were. 

You could only moan, pleasure overwhelming you, his cock dragging against that perfect spot over and over, his fingers pushing you closer—

“Cum for me again, princess.” He said, lips pressed to your jaw, groaning with every thrust.  “I want to feel you squeeze me.”  

And just like that another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down on him so tight he nearly screamed.  

Jaemin cursed, feeling you pulsing around him, dragging him straight into his own orgasm. 

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” His body convulsed, hips stuttering as he filled you up once more, letting go with a strangled moan against your throat.

Jaemin finally collapsed, pulling you down with him. He wrapped himself around you, pressing lazy kisses to your bare shoulder.  

His arms tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go.  

“God,” Jaemin exhaled, still breathless, lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I might have broken you, princess.”  

divider creds toastray

my inbox is always open for any comments/feedback about the fic <3

[slut4megantheestallion]

BABE can i have chloe with a maddy perez coded gf plsss (if you’ve seen euphoria) 💜💜💜

(Yes, I do watch Euphoria. I'm waiting for season 3 😁.) ⋆☆Chloe price x Maddy perez!Coded gf reader

Warnings ⚠️: Chloe price x reader, Maddy perez! Coded reader, Chloe being a simp, wlw, wlw x reader.

☆Chloe is a total sucker for you. She'll complain about how high- maintenence you are, but she'll still do whatever you ask - something before you even ask.

☆"Babe, can you -"

☆"Already, on it, princess."

☆"Aww, my good girl." (Chloe pretends to groan, but she lives for your praise.)

☆She's the type to sit and watch you do your makeup, completely mesmerized. She'll act like she's just chilling, but she's literally studying every every move you make.

☆"Damn, how do you do that wing thing so perfectly?"

☆"Skill, baby. You wouldn't understand."

☆"Pfft, whatever." (She totally wants you to do hers next.)

☆If you ask her to hold your lip gloss, purse, or anything else, she'll do it without question. She's basically your personal assistant.

☆"Can you carry this for me, chlo?"

☆"Tch, I'm not your-" realizes you're already handing it to her - "Yeah, okay. Fine."

☆You dress like a damn goddess - always in outfits that turn heads, like sleek two- piece sets, tight dresses, cropped tops with high- waisted pants, and mini skirts that drive chloe absolutely insane.

☆You love a glam but sultry look- glossy lips, razor- sharp winged liner, bold lashes, and perfectly sculpted cheekbones. Your nails are always done, and you accessorize flawlessly with gold hoop earrings, rings, and layered necklaces.

☆Chloe acts like she doesn't care about fashion, but she's obsessed with seeing you get all dressed up. She'll sit on your bed, watching you pick out clothes, just admiring how effortlessly hot you are.

☆"Babe, do I wear the sparkly dress or the tight one?"

☆"Uh... both?"

☆"Ugh, that's now how it works, chlo?"

☆(She literally can't decide because you look insane in everything.)

☆Whenever you dress up, she cannot stop touching your hands on your waist, pulling you close, kissing your neck. You pretend to scold her, but you love how obsessed she is with you.

☆"Damn, you tryna kill me, babe?"

☆"Maybe. You'd die happy, though."

☆(She absolutely would.)

☆Chloe is so whipped for you. She adores spoiling you, even when she pretends to hate it. If you want something, best believe she's finding a way to get it for you.

☆"You like those earrings? Bet. Gimme a sec." (Cue her doing dumb shit to get the money.)

☆She'll complain about how long you take to get ready, but she secretly loves sitting behind you, playing with your hair while you do your makeup.

☆"Hurry up, babe."

☆"Perfection takes time, chlo."

☆"Tch, whatever, you always look perfect anyway."

☆(She doesn't even realize she just simped that hard.)

☆If you pout at her? Game over. She's done for. You can get her to do anything. "Ugh, fine, but if anyone asks, I did this because I wanted to, not because you made me."

☆(You most definitely made her.)

☆Chloe hates when people flirt with you. She trusts you, but she doesn't trust the people who flirt with you and try to shoot they shot. If someone even thinks about trying it, she's instantly at your side, arm wrapped your waist, glaring the down.

☆"Yeah, keep walking, dude."

☆You're no better. If a girl even looks at chloe for too long, you'll make sure she knows who chloe belongs to. you won't fight - you'll just grab her chin, make her look at you, and say, "Let's go, baby." The smug look you give the other girl is enough to shut her down completely. (Chloe just smirks because she lives for possessive you.)

☆When you're mad, you make chloe work for your attention, she hates it.

☆"Oh, so you're just gonna ignore me now?"

☆"Mmhmm." (You're eating it up. She knows it).

☆"God, you're impossible." (She's already planning how to make it up to you.)

☆You both have that dramatic, all-or-nothing love—you’re each other’s entire world, and you both know it.

☆Chloe loves to pretend she's too cool for your high standards, but she secretly loves doing things just to see you smile.

☆"God, you're so high maintenance."

☆"Yeah, but you love it."

☆(She does. alot.)

☆She acts like she doesn’t care about looking good, but if you tell her, "I like when you wear this," she’ll suddenly start wearing it all the time.

☆You catch her staring at you constantly. She’ll deny it every time.

☆"Were you just checking me out?"

☆"Pfft, no. As if." (She was. She absolutely was.)

☆She’ll roll her eyes when you ask her to hold your bag, but she always does it. And if anyone so much looks at you wrong, she’ll glare them down like she’s ready to fight.

☆Chloe always thinks about how she even bagged you. Chloe,—she’s messy, reckless, and doesn’t care about what people think, while you’re always put together, confident, and expect things to go your way. But somehow, you just work.

☆Chloe teases you for being a little spoiled, but she secretly loves it. If you pout and bat your lashes, she’ll do whatever you want—though she’ll grumble about it.

☆You have Chloe wrapped around your finger, and she knows it. She tries to act all tough, but one smirk from you, and she’s giving in.

☆"You literally think you’re the boss of me, babe."

☆"Because I am, baby."

☆"Tch. Whatever." (She absolutely agrees, but she’ll die before admitting it.)

☆Chloe tries to impress you(and failing sometimes).

☆Chloe always tries to act cool around you, but you love making her flustered.

☆"You’re so cute when you’re mad."

☆"Shut UP."

☆(She’s madder now, but only because you’re right.)

☆She’ll act like she doesn’t care when she does something sweet for you, but you always call her out.

☆"You bought my favorite snacks?"

☆"I just grabbed whatever. Not a big deal."

☆"Mmhmm. Sure." (She definitely went out of her way for you.)

☆Date nights with chloe are wild-sneaking into concerts, stealing road signs, joyriding at 2 AM with music blasting.

☆You take Chloe on classy dates—dinners at fancy restaurants, shopping sprees, poolside lounging at a bougie resort. She acts out of place at first, but she loves being spoiled by you.

☆"Damn, this is fancy as hell."

☆"I know. You better not embarrass me, babe."

☆"Pfft, no promises."

☆You love sitting in Chloe’s lap, whether it’s at a party, a restaurant, or even just at home.

☆She pretends to be annoyed but will never ask you to move.

☆"Really? Right here?"

☆"Shh, you love it."

☆(She absolutely does.)

☆Arguments are heated because you both have strong personalities, but neither of you ever crosses the line. You both know how to push each other’s buttons, but you never hit below the belt.

☆When you’re mad, Chloe suffers. She hates when you ignore her and will literally follow you around trying to make you forgive her.

☆"Babe, c’mon. Are you really not gonna talk to me?"

☆Nope." (You love making her work for it.)

☆"Ugh, you’re evil."

☆(She’s already planning how to win you back.)

☆When Chloe’s mad, she usually just storms off—but she always comes back. And when she does, she wraps her arms around you from behind and just buries her face in your neck.

☆"I hate fighting with you."

☆"Then stop pissing me off, babe."

☆(She definitely will try.)

☆Overall, Chloe worships you. She might act all tough, but when it comes to you, she’s an absolute simp.

(☆enjoy, the edit at the end @mwahbabe)

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Wax Strips | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Okay, I got this ask awhile ago and I'm 99.9999% sure Anon wanted angst, so I promise I have some actual PAIN coming, but this idea came to me and I could NOT stop imagining how Sebastian would react to getting his chest waxed. BAHAHAHAH

Words: ~2,000

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Post Hogwarts, Auror Seb, Fluff, Crack

Beta: @newdreamlove95 <3

"This is the worst mistake of my life."

Sebastian groaned as he sat shirtless on the edge of your bed, eyeing the waxing strips in your hand like they were about to Avada Kedavra him.

You grinned. "You should’ve thought of that before running your mouth, Sallow."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I don’t even remember what the bet was about."

"It was about whether I could outdrink you at the Three Broomsticks," you reminded him sweetly. "And as I recall, you—"

"—dropped like a sack of potatoes halfway through the seventh glass, yes, yes." He waved a dismissive hand, glaring at the strip you were warming between your palms. "I still maintain Sirona put something in my drink."

"You lost. Fair and square."

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose. "And you couldn't pick something less... violent?"

"Oh, but where would be the fun in that?" You cocked your head, tapping a thoughtful finger against your chin. "Besides, you were so sure you'd win. So sure, in fact, that you didn't even ask what you'd be wagering."

That had been his fatal mistake. Arrogance. Pride. But that smug smirk of his had been wiped away the moment you'd casually leaned over and informed him of his penalty.

Waxing.

Now, he sat in front of you, shirtless, scowling, and—Merlin help you—looking absolutely gorgeous.

Not in the chiseled, statuesque way of some of his Auror colleagues, but in a way that was so undeniably him. Strong, fit, but softened at the edges. Broad shoulders and thick arms that spoke of years of training, but no sharp definition in his torso. No hard abs or lean cut muscle, just solid strength beneath a natural, softer layer that spoke of good meals and a life lived beyond training regimens.

The warm glow of the lamplight cast golden highlights over his bare skin, endless freckles dotting his chest and collarbones and shoulders. His stomach was taut enough when he tensed but relaxed into something far less severe when he slouched back on his hands, eyeing you warily.

And you were about to press wax strips to it.

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

"Oi." His voice broke you from your thoughts. "You're not getting all shy on me now, are you?" His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something dark and teasing, and you scowled.

"Shy? Hardly. I'm savoring the moment."

You pressed the first strip to his chest.

Sebastian flinched. "Bloody hell, that's cold!"

You smoothed it down with extra care, enjoying the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "I could warm them up more, but I feel like you've earned a little suffering."

He gave you a deadpan look. "Remind me to get my revenge."

"Remind yourself to not lose next time."

His gaze dropped to your hands and his voice was quieter when he said, "Didn't know you had a sadistic streak."

You hummed. "Maybe you bring it out in me."

Sebastian let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head, but something lingered behind his eyes. Something knowing.

You both danced around this—whatever it was between you. A constant, unspoken thing, humming in the spaces between your words, thrumming beneath every teasing remark, every stolen glance.

You cleared your throat and patted the strip in place. "Alright. Ready?"

His jaw clenched. "No."

"Too bad."

You yanked the strip.

"Fuck!" Sebastian hissed, chest jerking backward, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Bit dramatic, don’t you think?" You bit your lip to keep from laughing. "You're fine."

"Am I?" He gestured wildly at his chest like he’d just suffered a mortal wound. "My soul just left my body. I am not fine."

You rolled your eyes. "Pussy."

Sebastian gawked at you, mouth dropping open in pure, offended disbelief. "Excuse me?"

You waved the used strip at him. "You’re acting like I just flayed the skin off your chest when all I did was remove a few wispy little hairs."

"Few wispy little hairs?" His brows shot up. "Are you joking? That was—" He stopped, looking down at himself, and then seemed to deflate a little. "Alright, fair enough, but it still fucking hurt!"

"Oh, please," you scoffed. "I get my legs waxed all the time. I get a Brazilian wax. You're fine."

Sebastian made a choking sound, his face instantly turning red. "I—You—" He sputtered, eyes wide as if you’d just confessed a deep, dark secret.

Heat bloomed in your own cheeks. You hadn’t exactly meant to say the Brazilian part out loud, but there it was, lingering in the air between you.

You pushed through like it wasn’t a big deal, despite your ears burning. "Don't act so scandalized, it’s not like it’s a secret. Meanwhile you're making a scene over a couple of strips on your—" you made a show of squinting at his chest, "—oh-so-rugged pelt of manly hair."

Sebastian recovered fast—too fast—his lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk. "So you’re saying you have experience suffering for beauty?"

"Yes, Sebastian," you deadpanned, pressing another strip to his stomach with a little extra force, "because unlike you, I’m not a baby about it."

He groaned dramatically. "You must be built for pain or something."

You bit your lip. Oh, he has no idea.

"I simply have a higher pain tolerance."

"You are a monster," he muttered, rubbing at his chest. "An absolute tyrant."

"You lost a bet." You smoothed another wax strip down, fingers lingering longer than necessary against his skin. His stomach tensed beneath your touch, firm with the strength of someone who trained daily, but with a soft give that made the heat of your palm sink into him in a way that was far too distracting.

He huffed, shaking his head. "I’m going to get you back for this. Just wait."

"Yeah, yeah." You gave him a teasing grin. "I'll believe that when it happens."

Sebastian’s gaze dropped to your hands, his voice quieter when he said, "You're enjoying this way too much."

You smirked. "What gave it away?"

"You've got that look." His voice had dipped, quieter, more dangerous.

You raised a brow. "Look?"

He licked his lips, eyes flickering to your mouth before dragging slowly back to your gaze. "The one that says you’re having entirely too much fun touching me."

Your breath caught.

The tension between you snapped tight, crackling like lightning.

Your hand rested against his stomach, fingers splayed over warm skin. You could feel his breath, shallow and uneven. You could hear your own heartbeat, loud in your ears.

He leaned in slightly. Just enough that if you moved, even an inch, your noses would brush.

"You know," his voice was lower now, rougher, "if you wanted to touch me, love, all you had to do was ask."

Heat flooded your face, and before you could think better of it, you ripped the strip off.

Sebastian screeched, nearly knocking you backward.

You were cackling before you could stop yourself.

"You absolute menace—" He was rubbing his stomach, wincing. "Sadist!"

"You deserved that," you managed between gasps of laughter.

He glared at you, though there was no real heat behind it. Then, without warning, he lunged.

You yelped as he pulled you back against the mattress, pinning you effortlessly. His weight was warm, solid, and far too distracting as he hovered over you, arms bracketing your head.

"You owe me for this," he murmured. His face was dangerously close, lips curled into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed, your breath catching, the weight of him a deliciously dangerous thing pressing you into the mattress. "I do?"

“Oh, definitely,” he murmured.

You barely had time to process before he dipped lower, so close that his nose brushed yours—so close that you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips. His gaze flickered down to your mouth, and just as his lips parted—

The door slammed open.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

You and Sebastian practically launched apart.

He nearly toppled off the bed, catching himself on one arm while you scrambled backward, smoothing down your rumpled clothes like you could erase what had just happened.

Ominis stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression pinched with deep suspicion. His unseeing eyes somehow managed to scan the room like he could feel the sheer amount of tension still crackling in the air. His lips curled in distaste.

“I heard shouting,” he continued, tone flat. “I thought someone was being murdered.”

Sebastian shot him a glare. "I was being murdered. Slowly. And with malice."

Ominis’s brow furrowed. "By what? Did you trip over your own arrogance again?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Sebastian let out an affronted scoff.

"By her!" He flailed an arm in your direction. "She’s a menace, Ominis! She’s committed unspeakable crimes against my body."

Ominis looked absolutely done. "Merlin, please don’t elaborate."

You snorted, trying and failing to stifle your laughter. "Relax, Gaunt. I was just waxing him."

Silence.

Ominis blinked. His lips parted slightly, and then he made a face like you’d just told him you and Sebastian had been performing dark rituals together.

"You were what?"

"WAXING," Sebastian repeated, still glaring at you like he’d been personally betrayed. "You know, the barbaric form of torture witches subject themselves to for vanity?"

Ominis looked utterly at a loss. He turned his head slightly in your direction. "Why?"

You grinned. "Because he lost a bet."

Sebastian threw his hands in the air. "A bet that was clearly rigged!"

"It was not rigged," you said smugly. "You just suck at holding your liquor."

Ominis let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was in actual pain. "So let me get this straight," he said. "You two were in here, alone, waxing each other?"

Sebastian pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Not each other. Me. I was the victim here."

Ominis, wisely, ignored him. His attention shifted toward you, his expression amused. "Give me a progress report."

You smirked, holding up a used wax strip like a trophy. "Well, we’ve successfully waxed his chest and stomach. He screamed like a banshee, but I’d say we’re about halfway done."

Sebastian scowled. "Halfway? Halfway?" He threw his hands up, then gestured furiously at his own bare torso. "I have suffered enough!"

Ominis looked vaguely entertained as he tilted his head. "So, are you telling me that this—" he waved a hand in Sebastian’s general direction, "—this whining, whimpering wreck of a man—has only gone through half of his punishment?"

You nodded, feigning sympathy. "Unfortunately so."

Ominis hummed in mock consideration. "I see. And what’s left?"

You tapped your chin, dragging out your words just to watch Sebastian sweat. "Well, there’s his arms, his legs—oh, and a little patch right here." You poked the center of his belly, where a few stray hairs stubbornly remained.

Sebastian flinched. "Stop pointing it out!"

Ominis smirked. "Oh, this is fantastic." He turned slightly toward you. "Do you need any help?"

Sebastian gasped, jerking away from both of you like you’d just threatened to shave his head. "You wouldn’t dare."

Ominis sighed dramatically. "I’d never lay a hand on you." His lips curled in amusement. "But I will supervise."

Your grin widened. "Oh, you’re more than welcome to stay, Gaunt. We could use a judge for the results."

Sebastian groaned, covering his face with one hand. "I hate both of you."

Ominis simply smiled. "Yes, yes. Now hurry up. I want to hear him scream some more."

[evienyx]

Hello! I adore your Concord fic so so much, to the point that it's actually now my favorite Sonic fic. Your characterization for Shadow is fantastic and I'm right there with you in thinking that movie Shadow wouldn't hide how much he likes Sonic or be mean to him, not after how much they bonded on the moon and during the fight afterward. Actually, your characterization for everyone is very on point, and Sonic is an absolute delight. I'm so sad that he and Maria never got to be friends for real, because Shadow (and you) is 100% right that they'd get along like a house on fire lol

Anyway, there's a song that I think fits Shadow and Sonic in Concord perfectly, and I wanted to share it with you! It's called "Stargazing" by Myles Smith, and I think it's especially fitting for this latest two chapters. :3

Also, I don't know much about the Superbowl, but I'm told that they do a lot of cool stuff during it other than just the game and that people have parties and stuff when they watch it, so I hope you had a fun time!

One of the most important things for this fic for me was making sure that the characterization for Shadow was Movie Shadow and not Games Shadow.

Now, of course, Movie Shadow is an adaptation of Game Shadow, there are a lot of similarities. However, his backstory is different, and more importantly his dynamic with Sonic is different. If we're being totally honest, in the movies at least, they don't even have the rivalry thing going on (yet at least). They were legit just straight-up enemies (reluctantly on Sonic's side until Shadow almost killed Tom and Sonic decided to lock in) until the conversation on the Moon, and from there they are (oddly in-sync) allies.

This is not to say I love Movie Shadow more than Game Shadow, I love the both of them for different reasons. Nor do I love Movie Sonadow more than Game Sonadow. They're both wonderful, and both have so much potential. It is very different potential from one another. Game Sonic would have to work double time to get that conversation out of Game Shadow compared to Movie Sonic who had it in all of two seconds. This is fine, and lovely to explore on its own, but it is important to me to acknowledge the difference and write these stories with the difference in mind.

I do plan on writing more fics for them, because oh lord this ship is so fun, and there are so many things that can be done with them. Obviously we've already got the more angsty fic that I'm planning for after Concord finishes (I'll release the first chapter on the same day as the last chapter of Concord), but even more than that I've got a few too many ideas sitting on a doc. I've got ideas for the movies, for the games, and even ones for complete AU fics that would probably use a blend of their personalities from both. I'm mentally ill.

Anyway, holy mother of god are you right about that song fitting them. It's actually kinda ridiculous, and makes me wish that I could draw at all because there is nothing I want more now than an animatic of the two of them with that song for this fic. I'm gonna be sick, thank you.

And, uh, yeah, the Superbowl has got kinda three big parts to it: Game, Half-Time, Commercials. The Game is the big final NFL American football game for the season to see who's the best team. It's the last game in the playoffs. Half-Time is when they have a super famous musical artist do a fifteen-ish minute show during the break that comes after the first half of the game. The Commercials are whatever ads play when you're watching at home, and they used to be really good, big productions with like storylines and stuff, but this year they weren't all very good, and I suspect it might be the use of A.I. but you didn't hear that from me.

I'm not a fan of either of the teams that were in the Superbowl this year (the Philadelphia Eagles and the Kansas City Chiefs), but I only vaguely dislike the Eagles and I really hate the Chiefs, so I was perfectly happy to see the Eagles win. Any love toward them is gone now that the game is over, though, and I am back to solely wanting to see my own team win.

[ravenclaws-stuff]

Harry Potter Love Language Drabbles

Slytherin Boys

Draco Malfoy: Gift Giving

I run my fingers across the emerald green dress, a wide grin on my face. It is absolutely beautiful. I could just picture myself wearing it. Draco and I dancing, swaying to the music.

“See something you like, love?” I pull my hand away, hoping Draco misses the fact I was looking at the beautiful dress. “Oh no. Nothing seems to have caught my eye.” The lie falls out of my mouth, smiling as I reach up, pushing the fringe out of his face. “Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks. I promised Pansy we would meet up after we were done here.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Only if you’re sure, you don’t need anything.” I nod, pulling Draco out of Gladrags. “I’m sure.”

“Good night Dray.” I kiss his cheek. Draco reaches up, pushing the hair out of my face. “Goodnight love.” I walk up the stairs, leading to the girl’s dormitory. “You have something on your bed.” Daphne calls as she walks into the bathroom. My brow furrows. "It’s cute!”

A gasp escapes past my lips as I see the emerald dress from Gladrags laying on my bed.

H..how?

Draco must have noticed I was looking at the damn thing. My eyes widen as I see the note beside it.

Love, please never hide anything you want from me. My vaults are for you to spend. Wear this Saturday night. We are going on a date. Dinner and a trip to your favorite bookstore. I love you, Princess. Get some sleep.

Theodore Nott: Acts of Services

“Theo, you really don’t have to do this.” I say from the top of the counter. Theo all but threw me on top of it, claiming I needed to rest my feet. I simply roll my eyes. I am pregnant, not invalid. Yet, I bit my tongue, knowing how futile it was to argue with my husband. "Alright, my love. Time to get you out of these clothes.” I giggle at the wiggle of his eyebrow as Theo undresses me. I once asked why he preferred to undress me, he said it was like Christmas morning every time. “Water isn't boiling as much as you prefer. Not good for the baby.” I roll my eyes, frowning. I miss my hot baths. “Join me Teddy?” I ask, placing my hands under his shirt, hope shining in my eyes. Theo leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “If I ever say no, avada me.” I lean against his chest, seeking his warmth. “Theo.” I whine. Theo picks me up, placing me into the warm water before crawling into the bath behind me. “I'm serious. Avada me.”

Blaise Zabini: Physical touch

Gryffindor beats Ravenclaw in a landslide. It seems the eagles have lost their touch after Cho left last year. I groan as my feet touches the grass. “What’s wrong, doll?” Blaise asks, a teasing tone evident in his voice. Whining, I look up at the castle. “The castle is so bloody far and my feet are killing me.” Blaise chuckles. “Just leaves me here to perish. Don’t forget about me, Blaise.” The rest of the group laughs at my antics, used to my dramatics. “Well I am not leaving you here.” Blaise crouches down, his back to me. “What are you doing?” Another chuckle falls from his lips. “Giving me girl a piggy back ride so she can rest her poor aching feet.” I laugh, climbing onto his back. “You're the best, B.” I whisper into his ear, placing a lingering kiss behind his ear. His hands tightens around my thigh. “I know.”

[asher-writes]

Day 1: Desperate.

Ship: April/Ember

WIP: The Poison Complex

Warnings: Kissing, Lots of swearing, planning to kill someone.

It was easy to tell when Ember was annoyed.

April could hear the way he stomped through the offices from a mile off, the heavy boots ricocheting off solid wood. He tensed, cracking his finger against his thumb, and acted as if he couldn't tell.

The door clattered against the wall as it was thrown open, before falling shut with a noise that makes the glass shake in their frames. "Bad day?" He asked.

"That little-" Ember threw himself down on the chair, arms folded across his chest, his leg bounced with a force that made the ground feel unsteady. April focused on the microscope in his hand, not even raising his head. "-shit."

"That bad?"

"He acts like he's so much better than everyone else, and then he nearly gets us all blown up, absolute twat."

April lifted his head, his top lip pulled between his teeth as a frown descended on his face. "Who?"

"Jasper."

"Eurgh, Jasper." A tangible feeling of anger bubbled in April's gut "...what happened?"

"He left a whole barrel of gunpowder right next to the sparking fusebox."

"What a fuckin' idiot."

"I know." Ember threw his hands up, "...Ari won't fuckin' listen to me, but that guy is going to get us killed."

"Then kill him first."

"I...what?"

"Kill him. First." April waved a hand, then turned back to the microscope, he focused in on it, watching the bacteria beneath it with keen interest. "Or I will, I'm not losing you to some idiot."

Ember fell silent then, the chair creaked beneath his shifting weight, and his stillness marred a now silent room. "You'd kill him for me?"

"Of course," April leaned back. "Nobody is allowed to put you in danger."

Ember's breath turned ragged, and he jumped up off the chair like a bolt flying from a gun. April's lips quirked into a half-smile, allowing him to drag him to his feet. "You're mine," he whispers, a delicate tone for such a violent truth. "Nobody gets to hurt you."

His eyes ached from the wideness of his own stare, before he lunged forward to April, fingers tangling in his hair and mouth open to breathe him in. April shivered and grinned all at once, his hands sliding down the length of Ember's body only to hook onto his hips and drag him even closer. The thud and warmth of his beating pulse danced beneath Ember's palm, which took his neck and pressed his thumb below his jaw.

His breath was rough when they pulled apart. "I'll let Ari know you're gonna kill him, he might just tell him to leave."

"Yeah, that's a good shout," April leaned back in his chair, his face flushed a lovely shade of pink beneath his freckles. "Make us a cup of tea, will you?"

"What did your last slave die of?"

"Being underworked," he yawned, "...which you definitely are."

[wolfertinger]

Hello. Update.

So one of the very mentally unwell kids Majora used against me about a year ago (named AxoVrity) was a former fan, and has been obsessing over me for nearly a year due to Majoras bogus ass claims. They have been recruiting a bunch of gross nasty edge lord kids from the FNF MML/Naxicord community to try and dox, blackmail and extort me and it's gotten to the point where these kids are now threatening to call in fake school shooting/bomb threats at schools in my area under my legal name and they want to end my career and there's even been mentions of these kids wanting me killed. These kids have also extorted other kids to self harm themselves and take pictures of it as blackmail btw.

All because of Majoras fake ass claims, I have to deal with this shit.

I have already been in contact with the feds 4 times and local police 4 times.

And Majora? I'm gonna file a new report on you too. To my knowledge, 3 other reports (not done by me) have already been made.

This is the kind of shit that happens when you make false claims out of malice. All that's happened to you were ppl bringing up shit and evidence on you that you are actually guilty of. That you continue to lie about.

Because of you, I am being threatened by mentally unwell kids who make it a habit to push minorities to suicide and extort and blackmail ppl and swat ppl for "fun".

But yeah no. This is the kind of person Salem wants to befriend and platform?

Oh and don't say I'm making this up because I have a whole folder of evidence, screen shots, video of ppl making the threats, etc on hand that I had to give to police. And by God I ain't afraid to post the evidence for everyone to see what your lies have caused. But you're a victim right? Do us all a favor and log off for good.

I'm trying to fix my life, work on myself and do better. Fuck you. May you never know peace again in your life. And fuck your friends, too, you weird ass predator.

"Oh, and to add to my last submission, these kids are dead set on the idea I'm a pedo groomer and everything in between and that I deserve what's happening. And yet, there's no evidence of this being true at all. 🤔🤔🤔 Wonder where they all got that idea from? Gee, I wonder.

Sorry, one last thing I forgot to mention; this was confirmed to come back to Majora because one of my former fans, who's only 14 and was guilty of harassing me on Majoras behalf actually came forward to admit all that she knew because she started getting scared she would be targetted too.

Absolutely disgusting.

Oh and I'll publicly give info on this too: yes she did. She doxxed her ex gf that she still slightly obsesses over to this day and even stole her sona design and supposedly drew art/had art made of the sona being violently harmed. And I believe that last part because after I cut that loser off, she commissioned someone to draw cringe ass art of her sona biting a roaches head off with the lyrics to my song "Roaches" in the bg, but slightly altered. I don't have it on hand, but ask Ono. They'll have it saved. This mf is pathetic. It was the most embarrassing attempt at threatening me and being edgy that I'd ever seen."

jesus christ. i am so sorry. thank you again, for clearing this up. and i am sorry for the stress and abuse, majora has caused you.

[monaisme]

Thanks for the tag, @joyful-soul-collector!

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? Hubby started calling me Mona as a nickname shortly after we were married after the Mona Lisa and a really bad experience with our wedding photographer. She told me that smiling too big would ruin our photos because the obvious gap I have between my front teeth. It was one of the happiest moments of my life to that point and afterwards, I'd do this small, closed-mouth smile instead. After a while, it felt like the nickname fit more than my actual name and so... Mona is me. (I should get on adjusting that so it's more readable!)

OTP(s) + Shipname: I'm fairly certain Irondad is going to be my ride or die. Tony Stark and Peter Parker were forever meant to make each other better-- in a strictly familial sort of way.

Favorite color: Today? Brown.

Favorite game: I'm an Octordle fan. Google it. I'm currently trying to beat my best score of 52.

Song stuck in your head: huh? I do not have a song stuck in my head at this exact moment. Odd.

Weirdest habit/trait? I talk to myself. I got into the habit when I first started writing and it MAY have crossed over into my everyday. Oops.

Hobbies: Writing, word puzzles... I'm about to start playing around with watercolours to see how I do with them.

If you work, what's your profession? I used to work! I worked at Home Depot as a head cashier, so retail... and I loved it. Well... I loved the people. Management was a collective of abusive, power-tripping assholes. Except for Patrick. I miss Patrick.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? I'd kill to be a high school English teacher. It had been the dream. Anxiety decided that it was not in the cards.

Something you're good at: I'd like to think I'm good at writing, but I know that it's a work in progress. I am a good storyteller, though. And I'm good at making people feel comfortable.

Something you're bad at: Staying organized... and keeping focused.

Something you love: My kids. My husband. My sisters. Naps. Terry's Orange chocolate. Homemade beef stew.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My family. My favorite books/movies.

Something you hate: Bullies. Being intentionally obtuse. Cilantro. All this trump shit.

Something you collect: Books and movie ticket stubs.

Something you forget: My wedding band! All the time! It goes off so I can use hand lotion or wash dishes or whatever and then it's three hours later, I'm driving somewhere, and my ring finger is bare! I'm the worst! Hubby just shrugs and announces that he's out with the girlfriend instead of the wife... which is cool, because I've heard she can be a real bitch. 🤭

What's your love language? Words of affirmation/ acts of service/ physical touch.

Favorite movie/show: The LOTR trilogy, all things Star Trek

Favorite food: Santa Lucia's pepperoni pizza

Favorite animal: Dogs... and anything tiny, soft, and safe enough to be cuddled.

What were you like as a child? Weird. Creative. Eager to please. Things were sometimes difficult growing up, so I tried to be whatever it was that whoever needed me to be. Most of the time, that meant being an entertaining distraction.

Favorite subject at school? English. ugh. Soooo amazing! And I was so fortunate to have some pretty incredible teachers.

Least favorite subject: Math. It hated me just as much as I hated it. Absolutely 100% reciprocated.

What's your best character trait? Honestly, I love just about everyone... or I try, at least. I swear, I should've been a hippy!

What's your worst character trait? I'm a little (a lot!) scattered some days. It drives me (and some others) nuts.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Oof. I can only pick one thing? My health?

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? I don't know that I'd like to meet anyone new? Getting to spend some time to visit with my grandfather before the Alzheimer's would be priceless.

Now tag as many mutuals as you want!

@sarah-sandwich, @vankaar, @imbecamiel, @itsmechara426, @ctrsara, @turtle-of-winter, @iamsailornerd, @yes-i-am-happyaspie, @snarkythewoecrow, @justme--emily,

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[threadsun]

Alright, last round of bois for the "kink list" thing, hope you've liked this little mini series (tiny series?)

Jack: Hypnosis, Jack wants you under his control, not always, but when it matters your mind belongs to him. He also just can’t help but find it cute, seeing your eyes so empty yet so full of love, it’s perfect. Jack plays nice with the others but that’s only because he doesn’t really see them as a threat, he fully believes that he is your best option and it’s only a matter of time before you realize that. He’s also a big fan of exhibitionism, he loves laying his clam on you and just letting the others watch as he makes you forget your name. He’s also much more willing to see you having sex with the others than he would in canon. He’s so confident that he can win you over that he just sits back and lets you have your fun, making sure to remember what makes you scream so he can do it later while pointing out how much better it feels when he does it

Joseph: Impact play, Or really any kink that’s more touch-based? Joseph has been numb to the world for so long, he just wants to feel something, and while regular sex is great at doing that he gets the most out of it if there’s a lot of sensory input. He loves spanking and biting and scratching and heat and cold, he especially loves when he has something to remember it by. He wears any hickeys you give him with pride, and he’d gladly let you carve into his skin if you ever wanted to. He’s yours after all, his body is yours, so long as you like it he likes it

Jo just wants to be taken care of but you have to pull that info out of him. Seeing as you’re the child of prophecy he never even considers you taking care of him an option. Every time you do ask to take care of him in the bedroom he’s constantly fretting over you, saying you don’t have to do this just because he wants it, and asking if he should be doing anything. You need to absolutely wreck this man before you can be soft with him at least the first few times you have sex. It’s not like he doesn’t like it soft, it’s that he likes it “too much” he’s insistent that he’ll mess it up or that you don’t really like him in that way and he will not stop talking like that until your tongue is down his throat

Jean: The sacred bond of marriage-no I’m kidding, kinda. What Jean’s really into is claiming you for himself. A little rule in your harem is that no one can mark your neck, this rule helps with public appearances and keeping everyone at bay. If you didn’t have rules like this it would be like dousing yourself in chum and hopping into shark-infested waters. Which is why you’re so pissed when Jean marks your neck almost every time you two make out. Desperation, Jean already thinks you love him just as much as he loves you, but being able to see it clear as day that you need him? Oh, honey, you’re fucked. Although, playing into his delusions is probably the safest option for him. Lying and telling him that the others are just your boytoys and he’s the only one who owns your heart while making sure the others know you’re bullshitting is your best bet with Jean honestly…unless

Making him your bitch, tie this fucker down in your basement and brat tame him until he learns that sharing is caring. Make him watch and cum to the sight of you getting fucked by the others, promising that if he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t get in the way he can lick their cum out of you. Jean loves this little fight for dominance, his brain only really allowing him to submit if he’s forced to, even though he really likes it. Jean is the enemy to everyone including himself, but if you can make him stop thinking and just lose himself to his pleasure he’s putty in your hands

These are sooooooo goood!!!!!!! I've loved this whole lil thing, your thoughts are absolutely spot on mwah chef's kiss 😘👌

Jack being such a cocky bastard because in this AU he has no reason not to be, I love it sooooo much!!! And subby Joseph is always perfect, both the masochism and wanting it soft sometimes, he deserves it all!! And then Jean, of course that fucker wants to claim you and make you entirely his, but also of course he'd melt if you were the first person to ever put him in his place.

[ai-the-broccoli]

enemies to lovers / but you'll never own my heart

@luzon-dove happy birthday, Quinn!! As a present, I decided to draw a piece fanart of your "blood in the walls of the yagami house" AU fic series, since I found it very well-written and full of super interesting ideas and concepts. I hope you like it!

[somegrumpynerd]

I was thinking about making a Dadmare AU,I even have some ideas myself but at the same time I'm very hesitant cause of how some people in this fandom feel about Dadmare or nicemare 😅

have you ever felt that way?,if so how do you deal with it?

Oh all the time! I have anxiety about things even I don't know about lol

It's easy to get scared out of stuff because of the idea that people will hate it, but honestly I think there's a decent amount of people who are super into dadmare stuff now or just Nightmare being nice in general! Even some of the people I know who make some of the best evil bastard Nightmare stuff are pretty chill with dadmare as far as I can tell

The short version is yeah there will probably be people who don't like what you post, but there will also be people who really love it and it makes them smile, and if it makes you and them happy then it's worth doing c: