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fillinforlater · 6 months

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Phone Part 10: Return of the Angel +3

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Yeh Shuhua, Jung Eunbi (Eunha), Hwang Eunbi (SinB)

Length: 1550 words

Tags: strap-ons, lesbian sex, spitroasting, double penetration, overstimulation, loveless sex, voyeurism, watching, fingering thigh riding

TW: messy crazy bs

(A/N: this series randomly returns because I just needed to get this idea out of my system for good. This might be the conclusion to it, but probably not... well, maybe you send me some ideas to where this could lead up to.)

"I'll get going."

Bomi kisses your cheek, that sore cheek, sore like every patch of your skin, every bone in your body and every damn muscle, some of them you didn't even know could hurt before today. Hell, you don't even have the strength to give Bomi a proper goodbye, a weak wave is all you can muster up.

She'll not be mad at you. For what might have been either 15 or 150 minutes, you have taken turns on her and Shuhua's pussy—licking, fingering, fucking them until those tight caverns each got a big load in them. In the meantime, Minju has been their plaything. Especially Shuhua has this cruelty towards her "friend", edging her with fingers, reddening her thighs with extremely hard slaps and always promising that she'll get your cock—just to claim you with her pussy again.

You turn around when Bomi closes the door. Shuhua and Minju wrestle on the couch, the latter clearly outmatched when Shuhua puts her in a headlock with her thunder thighs. Minju tries to escape with licks on Shuhua's clit but can't find it—the nightmare of so many guys.

"Cut it out, you two," you groan, fingers on your temple.

"N-no," Minju whines. "Minju still needs cock, wants cum in her tummy!"

"I can't." Point at your limp dick, absolutely spent. "And I have a headache. At this point, I’ll start to hate sex. Fucking hell, I'll make myself tea."

"Oh, I have an idea," Shuhua smirks and reaches for her phone while you leave for the kitchen. Whatever it is, you don’t want to deal with it. You need something relaxing, something herbal, to heal all the soreness in your body. It’s incredible to think that there is something like too much sex. You’re really close to giving up on it, even though two nymphomaniacs have turned your house into sex hub.

“No, no, stay down. You’ll get cock soon,” you hear Shuhua belittle Minju, who just whines in her usual tone. She seems to not be a bit tired after all this.

“Well, it won’t be mine,” you shout back, watching the hot water fill your cup and turn the leaves into something magical.

“Yeah, I know, you’re basically useless at this point.” Ouch, that stings. “That’s why I called back up.”

“You what?!”

“They should be here any minute now.”

Shuhua is spot on. Before your tea is finished steeping, your door bursts open. But instead of a hung man, two rather petite women enter your house. Both have a bored look on their face and immediately get to undressing. Overcoats seem to be the shit right now, and no matter who comes through your front door, they always drop it on the floor.

“Uhm, hello?” you carefully greet them before remembering that this is your home, your kingdom! You can’t let strangers just walk in like they own the place. “This is kinda rude, you know?”

“Don’t care,” says the taller one with long, raven hair, dressed only in jeans. “We have business to do. Also, it’s rude to just stand there, naked, while two ladies walk in.” You blush and hide your crotch with the tea cup.

“We aren’t ladies, stop kidding yourself,” the other snarks back, while climbing out of her skirt. “I bet he is a good fuck, you shouldn’t kill your chances already.”

“Eh, I’ll think about it, but first—” Both girls suddenly pull out two strap-ons from God-knows-where and put them on with the casualness one would wear a fricking hat. The taller one hasn’t even removed her jeans, wearing the harness over it, while the other is fully naked and flaunts her butt at you.

“Yeah, I know, we got shit to do.” The short haired girl slaps her butt and you almost drop the cup when she walks past you with a wink. “Shuhua, where is this needy bitch? Or are you the needy bitch?”

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Eunbi and Eunbi,” Shuhua greets them and points at Minju, still trapped in between her fat thighs. “Look who I found.”

“She is insatiable. Incredible that he can still stand,” the shorter Eunbi says.

“Hm, maybe he is a good fuck. Anyways, we’ll try our best to keep her down,” the taller Eunbi says. The three conspirators try to agree on a strategy on how to fuck the angelic girl. You’ve become invisible in your own house, your entry to the living room goes largely unnoticed. Except for Minju who pouts at you when the two Eunbis lift her up and put her in a doggy position. The shorter one is below her, the other is ready to press the plastic cock into Minju’s puckered hole.

"Should we do it at the—nevermind, you're already in." The small Eunbi groans in annoyance, the other looks unapologetic and starts to rut slowly against Minju's butt. The long shaft forcing open Minju’s hole, paired with the denim on her sore, pink buttocks, must feel incredible and incredibly painful at the same time. Who knows which of the two makes Minju wail and moan more.

"Come on, Eunha, shove it in her sex," Shuhua urges on the Eunbi below as she excitedly stares at the unholy sight of fake cocks on ready holes. Her eyes mimic the camera lens for a porn shoot, while you're the director, watching the scene play out. Either way, it's good content.

"Minju's pussy, Minju's ass, so full!" Minju is loud, louder than before. Shuhua is having none of it.

"Shut up. SinB, make her stay quiet. And don't let her cum."

Two hands move to cover Minju's mouth, two cocks move in and out at a rapid pace, two sets of eyes watch on in awe. Satisfied with what crazy madness she has come up with, Shuhua sits down next to you and lazily jerks your cock with two fingers. Oh, that victorious smile, glassy, lewd eyes, you'd love to wipe it off her face.

"You like what you see? Now you don't have to do anything anymore."

"What was that about me being useless?" Grab her by the throat and spit in her face. She looks pissed, you love it. "I came in you, even when Minju was willing to do anything to get my load and now you're still cruel to her? Seems mildly unfair."

"And what are you gonna do about it? Fuck her, if you can."

Shuhua is bratty, but just as much as she is bratty, she is also light. You easily place her nude frame on your thigh, her still dripping, creaming heat right on your skin. She hisses and you tighten your grip on her throat.

"I'm going to make you cum—you know I can, it's super easy—but only if you tell those two friends of yours to make Minju cum until she passes out.”

“Fuck, bastard,” Shuhua hisses. With your thumb on her clit, this is easily the quietest and tamest she has been for hours. Her body twitches, an honest reaction to how much she is addicted to the mind-blowing orgasms you can get out of her. Such a small finger, yet she is squirming, contemplating, faltering.

“Those two are so cruel,” you tell Shuhua, nose deep in her greasy hair. “They fuck her so hard, just to pull out at the last moment. Why do you want to torture Minju so bad?”

“Be-because she needs to get to the-the point.”

“What point?”

“The point where sex is no fun. She can go forever. She will never stop, your—fuck—plan to make her p-pass out, useless.”

This explains a lot. The Angel is insatiable, her lust seems infinite, but Shuhua’s plan—won’t it make things worse? At some point, SinB and Eunha will have to stop and Minju will be more desperate than ever. She will wobble through the house, tackle you the second she sees you and will force your cock in her pussy no matter what. A true tragedy.

“Well, I don’t care,” you say and tug at one of Shuhua’s nipples, she bites her fingers. “You’ve been too greedy, time for her to—”

“Fuck, fine.

“SinB, don’t hold back. Eunha, suck her tits, overstimulate this bitch!”

“What?” the two ask in unison and disbelief.

“Do-don’t ask questions, please, just do it!”

The way the two purple plastic cocks move in and out of Minju with the sole goal of too much pleasure has you satisfied and in a new heat, your cock hardening slowly but surely. With an ever increasing rhythm, you move your thigh up and down and Shuhua starts to ride, her loudness increasing again. She is as close as Minju and it only takes SinB pulling those messed up oak strands, you to rub Shuhua’s clit, for them both to explode.

You focus not on Shuhua shuddering, shaking on you, but at Minju’s expression. Her eyes jump wide, then tears shoot out and flow down, just to be blocked by SinB’s hands on her mouth. She’d be so loud, words messier than her hair would fill the room. After this peak, both collapse. Shuhua meets the floor, Minju falls on top of Eunha, who still thrusts, even spanks the Angel’s ass.

You’re hard again. Where is this going to end?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader #male reader smut #minju smut #gidle smut #shuhua smut #gfriend smut #viviz smut #eunha smut #sinb smut

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yinyuedijun · 2 months

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hi I am testing out whether or not I'm shadowbanned. however I don't want to spam the main tags w irrelevant posts so I am offering this snippet from art of the bedchamber part 2 \o/

tw soggy sfw danheng (pre-1.2)

Dan Heng remembers when he assumed his human form for the first time.

It is a difficult scene to forget: the wreckage of an IPC ship, engulfed in the red glow of emergency lights. A robotic voice signalling the steady loss of hair: Attention, attention, the system had blared in a pleasant, sunny tone. Attention to all passengers. The Altair has experienced irreparable damage to its seal. There are 120 minutes until complete oxygen depletion. Please make your way to the lifepods. The Vega is on standby to receive all survivors. Attention, attention.

The PA system said nothing of the vengeful ghost who’d wrought all that destruction—both upon the ship and its passengers. Probably everyone who could have made such an announcement was dead.

Yinyue Jun, the wraith had called him, mara-poisoned eyes shining as his gaze fell upon his features. The same features that Dan Heng was now studying in the broken mirror, fragmented by cracks running through the glass. Dan Feng. Sinner. You’ll never escape your karmic debt. You'll never escape your punishment. I’ll find you whenever you are, no matter how far you run. Even if I forget everything else of my mortal life, I'll never forget your face.

His face.

Dan Heng had never seen much of his own face in the darkness of the Shackling Prison, but he'd been strung up and whipped for its likeness. Punished for whom it once belonged. This is simply the weight of your karma from your past life. It was you who buried your beloved. It was you who nearly destroyed your homeworld. It was your fault, Dan Feng, that she died. How could you do that to her? To your friend? High Elder, do you know how the Vidyadhara suffered for your pride? It is you who is at fault for the deaths of so many of our kin. You, you, you. This is what you deserve, Yinyue Jun, for your arrogance. it matters not if it was your past life, it matters not if you're now a child, you have no right to shed those tears—

Seeing his face—Yinyue Jun's face—for the first time then, with its gleaming irises, its jadeite horns, its otherworldly glow—

—Dan Heng hated it.

His features were a curse, one not unlike the powers he'd inherited. You should never be allowed to roam free, Dan Feng. You cannot be trusted with the powers of a High Elder. Not with how you lost control in your last life.

You are a danger to us all, Dan Feng.

This is what you deserve.

Dan Heng was eager to sculpt a new face for himself. Relieved to lock away his powers. Anxious to paint into existence a dream he’d long imagined as a child. The dull green of his eyes, the short clip of his dark hair, the only hint to his past a cinnabar stroke along his lashline—these were features he’d long envisioned for himself growing up in the Prison, devouring countless novels about worldly life on the Luofu. All those stories about human men and women, leading quaint and romantic lives unfettered by destiny. All those tales about mortals far removed from his existence as a disgraced High Elder.

Looking like this—plain, unassuming, without the marks of a Vidyadhara elder—Dan Heng could pretend to be one of those mortals. He could act like he'd never felt the bite of shackles in his wrists. Like he'd never felt the burn of a welt slashed across his back. Like he'd grown up in sunlight, not the darkness of a cell.

He could act as if he were in control of his own destiny.

It would be impossible, of course, to truly entertain these delusions. But he still likes to imagine it every now and then—particularly with you, nowadays. He thinks of it when he stares at your reflections in the mirror in the early morning, brushing your teeth side by side. He thinks of it when sees the photos that March 7th has taken of the two of you, pinned up conspicuously on your bedroom walls. He especially thinks of it when he catches himself looking at the selfies that you always insist on taking with him—which is very often, given how you like to snatch his phone and update his lockscreen with them.

To the uninformed eye, all of these scenes make the two of you look like a simple, human couple—one right out of a novel.

Dan Heng thinks about this most often: a normal life with you, in which he is not burdened with the title of Yinyue Jun. In which there is no chance of staining your future with the transgressions of his past. In which you’ve never once been hurt because of his relation to Dan Feng, and where you will never be hurt again.

If paradise is but a dream, he thinks, gazing at the contours of your soft expression, then I wish to sleep forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune!

#its largely unedited i hope thats ok #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #x reader #yueshuo.fics #hope thsi shows up

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sidekick-hero · 17 days

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(steddie | explicit | 11.7k | tags: pwp, friends to lovers, brief Steve/other, mutual pining, summary: Steve asks Eddie for help in fulfilling one of his fantasies. Eddie has no idea that he is the actual star of this fantasy | AO3)

“I have no idea where you get your weed but damn, this shit hits so much harder than the stuff I usually manage to score," Steve says, face pinched as he blows out the smoke, the pungent smell of it filling the small room, before handing it back to Eddie. They're sitting side by side on the bed, both holding beers, bodies already going lax against the mattress.

"You know I don't kiss and tell."

Steve snorts a laugh. "Since when? Just last week you got lost on a ten minute spiel about that guy giving you head during your lunch break dude."

Eddie’s eyes cut a sideways glance at Steve, lips already curling in a shiteating grin. “Yeah but we didn’t kiss, so my point still stands,” Eddie retorts, wiggling his eyebrows at Steve and they both burst out into high laughter. Steve's body tilts sideways into Eddie's, and instead of pushing him away, Eddie just adjusts his own position so they're leaning against each other more comfortably.

When their laughter subsides neither of them moves away, bodies too heavy with the weed and booze in their system. They’ve been friends for years and have found themselves in much more compromising positions. Friendly cuddling while high doesn’t even make the top ten, Eddie thinks lazily.

“So, anyone interesting happening since Lunch Break Guy?”

“I’m pretty sure his name was Matt. Or Mark? Something like that. And nah, had to help Wayne clean out my old room last weekend, remember? I’m still recovering from hauling boxes all day.”

“Awww did you haul them with your dick? Poor delicate flower.” Steve giggles at his own joke, petting at Eddie with the hand not holding the beer, movements already sluggish and uncoordinated. Steve is such a lightweight and Eddie wonders why he finds that so endearing.

“Asshole,” Eddie chuckles, swatting Steve’s hand away. “At least I didn’t hook up with a guy dressed up as Frankenstein."

"It was Halloween, Eddie." He can’t see his face but Eddie hears the eyeroll in Steve’s voice.

"Did you compare your freaking monster dicks?"

"You know we didn’t, you were the one walking in on us to make that exact same joke,” Steve snorts and Eddie feels it against the skin of his neck.

Once again, Eddie wonders if it's weird that they're so close. He knows Steve doesn't tell Robin half the shit he does when he's getting his rocks off, and they're platonic soul mates. He didn't tell Chrissy about Matt's? Mark's? tongue piercing, or how he swallowed about half of Eddie's load before he started coughing and got the rest all over their clothes, so Eddie had to call Steve to get him a change of clothes because he couldn't work in cum-stained jeans. And he's pretty sure that normal friends don't make out with each other when they get drunk or high either. But, like, whatever. Who needs normal when you can have Steve leaning on you like that, smelling of his expensive shampoo and weed.

Taking another hit from the blunt, Eddie holds the smoke in for a long moment, and just as he's about to blow it out, he feels Steve's hand on his jaw, turning his head down toward his open mouth, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment. So Eddie slots their mouths together and gives Steve what he wants, as he always does. Because it's Steve, and Eddie doesn't know how not to.

After they have both exhaled the smoke, Eddie gives Steve the blunt to put in the ashtray. Steve does so, but not before taking one last hit. It's their second joint of the night and they both feel it.

“What about you, Mr. Charming? Any new adventures I haven’t heard about?”

"I went to the Babylon the other day."

"Oh," Eddie says, drawing out the syllable as he looks down at Steve in surprise. "That's the one with a darkroom that has, like, another room behind it for the really kinky stuff, right?"

Steve laughs awkwardly, avoiding Eddie's eyes. "Yeah, that one, although I think that's a hoax."

"And how do you know that?" Eddie asks, before gasping dramatically, his hand pressed to his chest in mock indignation. "Steven! Did you go in the dark room?"

Instead of a snarky comeback, all Eddie gets is an almost timid nod.

Huh.

Steve almost never gets shy, didn't even blush when he walked in on Eddie eating out the bartender in their room when they went on vacation together last year. Simply told him to hurry up because he was tired before he went back outside.

Not in the least bothered by Steve's weird behavior, Eddie pokes Steve in his rips and asks excitedly, "How was it? Tell me everything."

He can feel Steve fidgeting where he's still pressed into Eddie’s body and he takes another sip of his beer before finally looking up at Eddie.

Steve's eyes are glassy from the weed, the white tinged with red and so dark they look bottomless, like Eddie could actually fall into them, lost forever. Fuck, Steve's right, the shit Rick sold him really hits hard.

"It was good. Like, really fucking good, y'know. Intense and, I dunno, a bit awkward at first, but then it was... yeah, just really good."

Eddie feels that Steve is not telling him something here. They may be high and buzzed, but that was a lot of good in Eddie's opinion. And Steve is still fidgeting.

"Sounds...good. You picked someone up at the club to fuck there?"

"Not...really."

As it turns out, Steve went in there alone, but he wasn't alone for long. Eddie listens with bated breath as Steve goes into more and more detail about dancing and drinking at the bar, about seeing people disappear behind a thick velvet curtain only to emerge long minutes later looking disheveled and satisfied. He tells Eddie about strolling over there himself, just to check it out so he could tell Eddie about it later, and about being surrounded by strangers, too dark to make out anything but the sounds of skin slapping against skin, ragged breathing, moans and whimpers filling the thick and humid air.

Eddie feels himself getting more and more turned on the longer he listens to Steve's low voice talking about lingering hands and mouths touching him everywhere, strangers grinding against him before he inevitably moved on. Eddie's already half hard, and when he looks down into Steve's lap, he sees the thick, hard outline of his cock in his sweatpants.

It's not as embarrassing as it should be. Steve has always been hot, Eddie has two functioning eyes and an active libido. It wouldn't be the first time he jerked off thinking about Steve, not even the first time Steve was present if asleep, but they never went further than a few heated make out sessions, sloppy kisses and some grinding before remembering their friendship and breaking apart.

Not that Eddie wouldn't drop everything and be on him in seconds if Steve asked, but that’s neither here nor there.

"And then this guy just grabbed me, he was strong and I wasn't expecting it, and then my face was pressed against the wall and he was on my back, rubbing against me, his dick thrusting against my ass, and -" Steve takes a deep breath and Eddie, realizing that he has been holding his breath all along, follows suit.

"And?" Eddie asks when the silence stretches.

Another deep inhale before Steve goes on. "And it was really hot, like, I've never been so hard in my life. I wanted him to, y'know, use me, just, uh, pull my jeans down and fuck me without me being able to do anything. Just… Making me take it, getting off fucking me and then walking away like I’m just some, I dunno, toy with his cum dripping out of me."

Eddie was biting his lip so hard he was sure he'd taste blood any second, but it was the only way he could hold back the moan that was trying to crawl out of his mouth. His dick had gone from half hard to so hard it almost hurt, and he was seconds away from pushing down his own sweats and jerking off to the way Steve talked about being used.

"But then, I don't know, my brain, like, panicked, and I pushed him off, and ran out of the room before I even knew I was going to do it."

Steve is decidedly not looking at Eddie, which is good, because Eddie has no idea what his face must look like right now. Probably as destroyed as he feels. He's pretty sure Steve has seen the way his sweats are tenting by now, but considering how obscenely Steve's dick is stretching the fabric of his own pants, Eddie thinks Steve doesn't have a leg to stand on. Eddie also felt the way Steve's hips squirmed as he recounted the way those strangers in the darkroom had touched him.

The silence between them grows and grows, sitting heavy on his chest, so Eddie clears his throat and asks, "So - was it, I mean," he exhales loudly, "did you, uh, like it?" Steve looks up at him, surprised by the question, and Eddie clarifies, "I mean before you panicked and ran out. Everything before that."

Chewing on his lower lip, Steve considers his questions and the air between them is so thick that Eddie feels like he's drowning. He swallows and watches, transfixed, as Steve's Adam's apple also bobs, a bead of sweat sliding past it as it moves.

"I mean, yeah. I did. It was hot, man, like I said. Especially the... the way they were just touching me, taking what they wanted. I didn't even know that I, uh, wanted that?” It isn’t often that Steve sounds unsure, at least when it comes to sex and hookups. So when Eddie hears his voice waver like that, like Steve is embarrassed to want something, his instincts to comfort and help start screaming at him.

Before he can do anything about it, like pull Steve against him and tell him it’s okay, Steve keeps going. “But it was too much… Too, I dunno, surprising? Like, I really wanna do that again, but like, with some precaution. So it feels safe and I can, uh, let go or something. Not panic again because that sucked man.”

Steve finishes his beer and drops the empty bottle on the floor next to Eddie's bed. Usually he would bitch about it, just because it's what he always does, but tonight is not like most of their ‘boys’ nights’, as Robin calls them mockingly. Eddie is a little lost and a lot turned on right now and he thinks it would be best for him if their conversation ended here.

If only it was that easy when you have the impulse control of a toddler and can’t leave things very well alone.

"But you fucked strangers before. Like two weeks ago I watched you pick up some random guy to fuck in your car before coming back in for another beer. I helped you get out the cum stains the next day, too."

"I know, I know. It's not that. It's - you remember Clive?"

"Ugh, that asshole." Eddie says with feeling.

Steve chuckles against Eddie's neck and moves even closer, soothing Eddie's annoyance with the contact. God, but he hated that guy who had treated Steve like shit. He had been mean and condescending, and Steve had always looked subdued, almost small, in the days after their hookups.

"Yeah, that one. You hate him, he was a dick, I know. But he, well. He fucked me like this once, pinned me down on the bed, caged me in, ass up, face pressed into the pillow so I could barely breathe, and pounded me so hard I was covered in bruises the next day. Said some nasty shit too, man, and I felt so dirty but also so fucking turned on that I came without a hand on me.”

Steve squirms and fidgets next to him, his body moving against Eddie's in small increments, and Eddie thinks Steve doesn't even realize he's doing it, lost in his memories and the typical weed horniness. "I want this, but, y'know, like, with more."

Eddie actually chokes on his spit at that, stammering, "More?"

"Yeah," Steve says, pushing his face into Eddie's neck like that's the last straw, the thing that's too embarrassing to say out loud. "Like, when I think about it, I'm completely helpless. Hands tied, legs spread with a bar so I couldn't close them even if I wanted to.”

Eddie can't help it, he's got to do something or he'll actually die of Steve-induced sexual frustration. He shifts slightly on his right side, towards Steve, so that he can push his left leg over his right, pressing it down enough to relieve at least some of the pressure. Still, the sensation of any kind of friction against his aching dick makes him clench his hands into fists, his whole body tense.

His next words sound strained to his own ears. "So why not... do it with someone else? I mean, I've seen you at clubs and parties, Stevie, you'd have no problem finding someone willing to do, uh, that."

"True. But it doesn't feel safe. What if, y'know, the guy is, like, a serial killer or something? I've watched enough crime shows with you to know that happens!"

Eddie doesn't say anything, just takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Because seriously, Steve is right, it's super fucking risky and if he's honest, he doesn't want to think about Steve in that kind of danger. He'd go crazy worrying about him.

They're both silent and Eddie's thoughts are racing, the mellowness that usually comes with getting high gone. Replaced by more and more images of Steve flashing behind his eyelids.

Steve on a bed, Steve bent over a table, Steve on some faceless guy. Hands and mouths and teeth all over Steve’s body, his beautiful hazel eyes wide and wet, his face slack with pleasure. His gorgeous dick dripping with need.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

"Can you be there?"

His thoughts come to a screeching halt as his eyes widen in shock. What?

"What?"

"Well, no one would try anything if someone was looking out for me. Also, I could let go knowing you're there. I know you'll keep me safe."

Which, yeah. Eddie would. He would always make sure Steve was safe. It's himself, his heart, that he doesn't trust to be safe when he's there.

"What are you saying here, Steve?"

"I dunno, just that when I think about it. Think about being naked and tied to a bed, all helpless and shit, and there is some guy fucking me however he wants. Use me however he wants… I just. I want that, been thinking about it so much since that night at the Babylon. And you're always..." Steve's hand clenches and unclenches against Eddie's arm. "I want you there. To watch out for me. Make sure I'm still safe, that he doesn't really hurt me. Like, y'know, a safety blanket."

Jesus fucking Christ. He'll never let Steve near his weed again. Not if it ends with Steve tucked into his side, that familiar heat spreading from all the places their bodies touch, both hard in their sweatpants, while Steve talks about Eddie being his goddamn safety blanket while he gets railed by a stranger.

Still, Steve so rarely asks for anything that Eddie wants to do this for him, as fucked up as it sounds. He’s always been a freak and it seems Steve’s right there with him.

Before Eddie can make up his mind, however, Steve lifts his head and chuckles in a way that sounds forced. "Sorry, never mind, it's the weed talking, just forget it."

With that, he untangles himself from Eddie and stands up, his hard dick very obviously tenting his sweats as he turns away from the bed and towards the door. "I'm gonna get another beer, you want one?"

Looking at Steve's back and the tense line of his shoulders, Eddie says, "Yeah, sure.”

Read the rest on AO3

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fic #eddie x steve #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #nsft

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lovelyhan · 1 year

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— bad habits ⟢

pairing: joshua x reader

summary: it’s common practice to not sleep around with your ex months after you broke up. too bad you and joshua are terrible at doing things by the book.

word count: 1.3k words

tags: exes with benefits, pining, mild angst, smut

warnings: graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this is shorter than my usual work, bc i really just wanted to get shua out of my system..... smut tags are under the cut!

smut tags: car sex, fingering, protected sex, praise kink, soft dom joshua

It's Friday night when you tell Seungkwan that you're going out for a quick grocery run. When he asks if you're going alone, you don't really see any benefit in skirting around the truth.

"They're just errands," you say when you catch him glaring daggers at you from his comfortable nest on the couch. "I had my car fixed the other day, remember? He just happened to be in the area and offered to give me a ride to and from the supermarket."

Your best friend-slash-roommate scoffs. "When has it ever been just errands when you're left alone with him for more than five minutes?"

You love Seungkwan—really, you do. But there's something about his too-appraising stare and too-critical words that makes you want to do the things you aren't supposed to even more.

Then, you remember you're not that petulant. Of course you aren't constantly keeping in touch with your ex-boyfriend for the sole reason of going against what Seungkwan tells you. If that were the case, things would be much, much easier.

But life doesn't always turn up daisies, things don't always go as planned, and part of you doesn't always think it's a bad thing to fuck Joshua Hong in the backseat of his SUV.

"Jisoo," you whisper, a name he only ever lets those closest to his heart address him with. Half a year later, it seems that you're still on the list. "More, please."

You're perched on his lap, thighs splayed wide right atop his own as he loosens you up with lithe fingers. You can't see the way Joshua smirks, but you can feel how his lips twitch against the column of your throat, pressing a featherlight kiss across your fever-pitched skin.

"Always so good for me," he murmurs, thumbing at your clit in a way that has you squirming in his grasp. "You're so worked up today, baby. Have you been thinking of this? Of me?"

"Yes—" you gasp when he curls his digits inside you, the pads of his fingers grazing a spongy patch of flesh that makes sparks of electricity crackle beneath your skin.

Joshua catches on to your reaction quickly, letting out a soft chuckle before he increases the intensity of his thrusts. You feel like you should be ashamed of how your pussy squelches with each pass of his long fingers, but instead, you cant your hips in time with the rhythm he's set. Your head has soared right into the clouds, as you sigh out breathless whispers of please, so close, more, more, more—

Then, you topple over the edge—free-falling from the height of release because, just as good as you are to Joshua, he's just as good to you.

Never one to tease too much; always giving you the satisfaction that you constantly crave without expecting anything in return.

A hint of rationality prickles the back of your mind—saying that perhaps the reason you keep coming back for more is because Joshua is all too willing to give it to you. But the thought is lost in the tidal wave of your orgasm, washed away at sea before you can even spot it from the shore.

Your body tingles with oversensitivity, yet the spot where Joshua is holding you steady by the hips burns with need. Your clothes suddenly feel ten times more stifling, and you gaze down at Joshua like you want him to leave no inch of skin untouched.

But even in the midst of post-orgasmic bliss, you're not foolish enough to think this is more than just a quick fuck to him.

Joshua maneuvers you onto your back, laying you down on the leather seats as gently as he always does. Your heart aches at the way he looks at you—soft, with a hint of reverence that has no place in the setting you're currently in—and you forcefully tamp down the visceral emotions threatening to spill out of your chest.

You don't know when he even undid his jeans, but Joshua is already slipping on a rubber when you snap out of it—sighing as he glides the head of his cock along your glistening slit. You have half the mind to remind him that he doesn't need to use condoms, but you know he's doing this for a different purpose entirely.

A boundary. A tangible reminder that you and him only belong to each other in this moment, and nowhere else.

"So beautiful," he sighs once he slips himself inside you—pressing your knees to your chest before surging ever-so forward. "So perfect."

Sometimes, you wish he was as into degrading you as he is with praising you. If everything that came out of Joshua's mouth during sex was filthier than what you could take, it might've been easier to walk away from such a fucked up arrangement.

But all that spills from his lips and into your ears are honeyed words that make you forget every reason why you shouldn't be tangled up in the first place.

You're afraid that you'll never get tired of how he deliciously bucks his hips into yours—spreading your cunt open with each inch of his perfect cock. It doesn't help that he's such a talker. Each unforgiving thrust, he times with the sweetest of words. Taking me so well. Baby, you're just made for me, aren't you?

From the start, it was already a losing battle, and you'll gladly give Joshua all the spoils.

There's always something calculated in how Joshua pulls you apart every time. He never comes first—always wanting to feel your pussy squeeze the release out of him in the riptide of your orgasm.

It's no different now, when he reaches between your two slotted bodies—already cramped in the limited space of his car—and rubs your oversensitive clit in quick, precise circles. Your teeth catch on the curve of his shoulder, right over his shirt, to muffle the moan he inevitably rips out of you.

"Good fucking girl," he half-moans, half-growls before his vigorous thrusts come to a halt.

You try to ignore the sinking sensation that comes with feeling Joshua fill up the condom with white-hot release. You try not to remind yourself of the strict boundary he's maintained.

Most importantly, you avoid thinking about why he hasn't once tried to kiss you since you started fucking around all those months ago.

By the time you're both sated and dressed, the supermarket was already closed, and Joshua makes an off-hand comment about your misplaced priorities. You laugh with him for the sake of laughing with him, but deep down, you can't help but agree.

He drops you off in front of your apartment, smiling like he didn't just wreck you in more ways than one. You roll your eyes, pointing out that his ride reeks of sex, and that he should air it out before giving anyone else a ride.

"Then let's just take it somewhere else next time," he says so casually, you nearly trip on your own feet on the way out.

The two of you exchange goodbyes like two, well-meaning friends before he pulls up the window of the passenger seat and speeds away. You wonder if Joshua's heart twists the same way as yours.

Seungkwan is still awake when you make it back home—munching on a bag of baby carrots with a whole lecture about making better life decisions locked and loaded. But he never gets to present it when you collapse right next to him on the sofa, sobbing into his arms just like the day you broke up with Joshua.

He sighs, putting his food away before offering solace that you probably, definitely don't deserve.

But you have a bad habit of taking everything that's freely given to you, and you don't think you'll stop anytime soon.

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #joshua #seventeen joshua #hong jisoo #exes with benefits #joshua x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan #joshua smut #🐇 500 #full length fic 📚

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actual-changeling · 3 months

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Do you think Crowley would be more emotionally open without Aziraphale? I’ve never thought about it, but I’ve just read the tags of your last ask and now I’m really interested

Short answer? Yes, absolutely.

Long answer? Also yes, but it's complicated. <- past me was correct, this got very long, my apologies.

What-if scenarios are always part canonical evidence/part subjective interpretation, because the only Crowley we know is the one who spent six thousand years orbiting Aziraphale.

Still, there was a pre-Aziraphale him, up until Job I presume, which is when they started being lonely together, and we do see what they were like!

The Starmaker is his 'before', the being he was before the doubt, the war, the fall. Before hell and the garden and Aziraphale. She is the blueprint the Crowley we know is built on. In the short time we have with her, she's incredibly emotive—with both positive and negative emotions—and her body language is soft, almost fluid.

Showing emotions is simply a natural part of being a person, and what exactly that looks like obviously varies; but this angel has never been punished for doing so. There are no consequences, it's safe to exist however she wants (though not much longer).

After this, we get Crawley what I assume is more or less a short amount of time after the fall. Everyone got settled in hell, and once the institution was functional, they now needed to actually have humans running around on earth. Otherwise there are no souls to torture.

Even here, Crawley is still open, still smiling, still soft, although a bit more covert in their body language. She laughs and—this is the important part—questions God right on there on the walls of Eden.

Even after falling for asking question, she does not stop, not for one moment. Despite the trauma they undoubtedly must have gone through, Crawley sees an angel, slithers up to him, and strikes up a conversation, trusting that he will not hurt them.

Now, this is where subjective interpretation comes in, because we have no information of what the fall was actually like. They got punished for asking question, for rebelling, for trying to change the system—but in my opinion, they never got punished for having emotions.

In the modern day, angels are terrified of making mistakes or asking question, but they are still emotive, they physically express their feelings. Some are more intense in their expressions, others subdued, but from Muriel all the way to Gabriel, they talk about emotions, they show emotions, and that in of itself is not a crime.

Hell is just as—if not more—emotional than heaven. Just remember Hastur when Ligur was melting and then later during the trial, or Beelzebub when ze summons Crowley in the first episode.

Yes, they communicate in code a lot, but only when it comes to very specific kinds of information and interactions, not when someone is going insane over the blaring alarm.

Why does all of this matter?

Because it proves that the level of emotional suppression Crowley and particularly Aziraphale have reached is not taught by either heaven or hell.

Instead, just like Aziraphale's claims that 'heaven is watching', it is a rule system instated by himself for himself, and by extension for Crowley; he set the requirements for interaction and forced Crowley to meet them if he wanted to be around him.

We don't see Crowley laugh the way he did as Bildad or the Starmaker anymore, we never see him carefree or joyous or sad. I mean for fuck's sake, he HIDES behind his glasses, a physical manifestation of the repression he's caught in.

Humans wouldn't notice his eyes in the same way the police doesn't notice them at the convent in Tadfield. The glasses show up during Job, and we know Crowley already had a plan to go against orders, so glasses it is. However, he doesn't wear them during the crucifixion, which comes after Job. Crowley tells us she spent a lot of time with Jesus, so you'd expect her to be wearing them, but she isn't—whatever her relationship with Jesus was, she seemed to trust him a lot, and Aziraphale wasn't around.

Aziraphale is the one who demands silence, who never wants to talk about anything he himself hasn't approved as a 'safe' topic, he and his fucking forgiveness whenever Crowley questions God, calling him a demon and pushing him away whenever he openly shows affection towards Aziraphale.

So yeah, of course Crowley cannot regulate his emotions and has no idea how to express himself now, Aziraphale has shoved a gag down his throat for six thousand bloody years and still wants it to stay in place. Our closed-off Crowley would not exist without Aziraphale's continuous presence in his life, and that is a hill I am more than willing to die on.

Crowley is getting his heart broken in the worst, most violent way imaginable both times. But now? His face is stone and steel, one third of it hidden away behind black-out glasses. No tears, no words, no desperation, no flying hands or fluidly moving body.

This is the kind of person you become when someone else forces you to make yourself small, when emotions are punished and affection withheld until you act the way they want. It's horrible, it's unhealthy, and it destroys parts of yourself that you will never get back, no matter how hard you try.

So, in conclusion, yes, without Aziraphale's influence, Crowley would be softer, more open, and we would still see remnants of the Starmaker in him—but we don't.

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #crowley meta #getting ready to receive anon hate in 3 2 1...

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Can I please request female reader x Hal jordon friends with benefits blurb or headcanons <33

You can, you said please and that is my magic word Anon.

Pairing: Hal Jordan x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, catching feelings, hook-ups, friends with benefits, reunion sex, possessive sex, long distance relationship

A/N: A friend of mine really likes Hal so I hope she likes this.

FWB!Hal who is the one to establish and break the no feelings rule. He has the whole universe of potential partners if he just wants to a quick fuck but somehow he always shows up at your place first, with that charming smile of his that has you opening your window and your legs for him.

FWB!Hal who can is a huge tease when he uses his ring to bind you and keep you still while he fucks you. So what if he makes a few sex toys with it, his imagination is he limit and lucky for you both he has quite the pervy imagination.

FWB!Hal who is gone before you wake up just to avoid talking about his feelings with you. He's never been good with things like this. Oh sure he has a way with words when it comes to getting into someone's pants but feelings? No, that will take him a long ass time to come to terms with.

FWB!Hal who always fucks you like he hasn't seen you in months. In some cases he hasn't but most of the time he tries to visit you at least once a month.

FWB!Hal who doesn't let the fact that you want a boyfriend get in the way of your friendship even if you break of your agreement. He ultimately wants you to be happy and he knows that being with him might not give you the emotional fulfillment you need.

FWB!Hal who will visit you just for a quickie. When his libito hits him full force he needs to get rid of it fast. You don't mind him going to someone else either if he's in a different system, but if he's close by you'd rather him come to you.

FWB!Hal who gets emotional when drunk. He'll tell you he really likes you, not just for sex or as a friend, kiss you and then pretend to not remember any of it the next day. Sometimes feelings need to stay just feelings, not words.

FWB!Hal who cant keep his hands off you even on the most mundane of outings. You'll often find yourself tucked away above the clouds, getting fucked raw by him. You don't need to hold on so tight but he likes the closeness and warmth of your body pressed against his when you're like this.

FWB!Hal who never leaves you hanging when he fucks you. If you go out and fuck someone else while he's away he will be smug as hell knowing that he fucked you ten times better.

FWB!Hal who is oblivious of the fact that in your mind you're already practically dating. He's always calling and visiting you, he brings you food when he flies over, you haven't been with anyone else but each other, he has a few of his shirts, jackets and tank tops at your place because he claims its convenient to have fresh clothes to change into. Now you're just waiting for him to confess properly.

#hal jordan x reader #hal jordan imagine #hal jordan headcanons #hal jordan smut #hal jordan x female reader #dc comics x reader #dc comics headcanons #dc comics imagine #dc comics smut #dc comics x female reader #green lantern x reader #green lantern imagine #green lantern headcanons #green lantern x female reader

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cheollipop · 1 year

Text

i'll be with you

navi | taglist

pairing: park seonghwa x gn!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, non-sexual nudity, seonghwa is so soft *cries*

A long, dreadful day at work calls for a hot shower and sleep, perhaps a few hours of crying as well. What you don't account for, however, is the man who wouldn't let you go through that alone.

A/N: this was an old fic that I fixed up to fit seonghwa and I'm not going to lie it had me gripping my chair bc he's so soft and I'm so in love with him I could cry for days. By the end of it, I hope you can all remember that you are so so loved.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Leaving a trail of clothes behind you, you made your way into the bathroom, shedding yourself of the last of your garments and stepping into the shower. You watched the glass around you slowly fog up before stepping under the showerhead, fully immersing yourself under the stream of hot water and allowing your muscles to relax.

It had been a long day at work. Your social battery was drained. Just the thought of repeating the same routine tomorrow tipped you over the edge, your tears merging with the hot water as it descended down your body. You cried for a while, sobs ripping through your chest, masked under the sound of water pattering against the floor tiles.

You didn’t hear the jingle of keys at your front door, the soft knock on your bathroom door startling you. News articles of 'the murder victim found naked in their shower' flashed into your head. They didn't sound appealing in the slightest, so you reached for your shampoo bottle – the closest thing to a weapon you could find – but lowered your arm when you heard the familiar baritone of Seonghwa’s voice on the other side of the door, your heart calming its violent banging against your ribcage.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” he spoke. And although you had evolved into a sobbing mess over the mere thought of speaking to another human being only a few minutes ago, right now, you wanted nothing but to be engulfed in his arms.

“Yeah,” you replied, wincing at the crack in your voice. You knew he knew. You didn’t have to tell him, the trail of clothes you had left outside enough for him to figure out you had a bad day.

“Are you sure?” His voice was so soft, so warm, so Seonghwa.

You remained silent, hot tears pooling in your eyes once again.

“Are you crying?”

Well, now you were. Switching the water off, you wrapped yourself in a big towel and prepared to face the man on the other side of the door. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor by your feet as you opened the door. He was wearing your fluffy slippers despite them being too small for him, the heels of his feet sticking out the back. You almost smiled.

“Hey,” he said, his voice so tender you almost melted into the floor. You weren’t looking at his face, but you could tell he was smiling. He was always smiling when he was with you. “Bad day?” He asked after a few seconds of silence. Of course he knew.

You only nodded, walking into his open arms. He wrapped them around you, holding you against his chest. You sucked in a breath, the soft scent of baby lotion lingering behind the musk of his cologne releasing a fresh batch of dopamine into your system. You realised that this was what you needed, not sleep, but Seonghwa and his crushing embrace. He was so warm, even as the water cooled on your skin, shivers shaking your body as your teeth clattered against each other.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against your temple. With you still in his arms, he walked you to your room, waddling together through the small apartment. With your face buried in his chest, you didn’t notice that he had cleaned up the stream of clothes you had left behind, the sound of the washing machine in the laundry room going unnoticed by you.

Your eyes watched as the droplets of water slid down the sides of your thighs where Seonghwa had sat you down on your bed. He allowed a comfortable silence to engulf the room while he looked through your closet for something warm to wear, smiling to himself when he saw the stack of hoodies that were once his occupying a generous space in one of your drawers. He picked out his favourite along with a pair of sweatpants.

He kneeled on the ground by your feet, gently lifting each leg off the ground to slip on your underwear. He left it gathered at your knees and moved to remove the wet towel still wrapped around your body, studying your face for any signs of discomfort, hands pausing their movement as he looked at you with those wide eyes. As if he could ever make you uncomfortable. You nodded, shoulders closing in on your body when he pulled the towel off you, cold air hitting your damp skin. Seonghwa was quick to cover you up with an undershirt, followed by his hoodie.

Warmth was quick to seep into your skin, especially after he had pulled on your sweatpants. He stood up and signalled for you to do the same, and he continued to pull up your bottoms.

Seonghwa held your waist in his hands. Warm, you thought, even through the layers of clothing, you could feel the warmth of his palms. You relaxed against him. His hands moved up to the back of your neck and you felt the plush of his lips pressing against the top of your head. You sighed in content, sensing the tension you had felt all day slip away, as if it was never there to begin with. You wrapped your arms around him, holding your hands together at the small of his back, silently appreciating him for not pushing you to speak. Perhaps that was because you didn’t exactly know what to say. You appreciated that he took care of you in times like this. You appreciated everything he did for you. You appreciated him.

But how could he not take care of you? Leaving you to fall sleep alone in a cold, empty bed, with tears staining your precious skin; how would he ever forgive himself? He would drop everything to hold the person he loved so dearly, you; to feel you nuzzle up in his arms after a long day.

“Thank you,” you broke the silence.

Your voice was hoarse, nose red, and the tiny sniffles you made every other second brought a smile to Seonghwa’s lips. You were so cute, standing there in his arms, in his hoodie, smelling like the shampoo you had been using since he had first met you. Everything about you felt so familiar to him. There was not a single part of you he didn’t love. Your face, your nose, your body, the perfume you always wore, the fact that you thought he found it boring when you told him about your day when – in fact – he would've been waiting for it all day, buzzing with excitement to find out what his favourite person had gotten up to in his absence. Even when you pressed your ice-cold hands against his neck when you kissed him – it made his heart melt. Even if he flinched away from you.

“Anytime,” you felt him smile against your forehead as he pressed his lips against the soft skin. “I’m always here for you, (Y/n).”

Warmth surged through your abdomen, and you pulled away from him, holding his hand in yours and gesturing towards your bed. Seonghwa watched you climb under the thick blanket before doing the same, holding his arms out for you. You instantly moved forward, melting into his chest as his strong arms enveloped your frame.

You were no longer thinking about the gruesome day you’d had, nor were you thinking about the gruesome day you were probably going to have tomorrow. Your mind could only focus on how Seonghwa’s arms were wrapped so firmly around you, how overwhelming his scent was as you buried your face into his chest, how you were basically swimming in his hoodie, how Seonghwa, and everything about Seonghwa, was so comforting. He occupied all your senses. He knew you better than you know yourself, and treated you better than you could ever treat yourself. He was slowly teaching you to love yourself, even with all your flaws, because those flaws were what made you so uniquely you.

“Today was terrible,” you spoke after what seemed like hours of silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“That’s okay,” he said, placing a kiss at the crown of your head.

More silence. His fingers carded through your hair all the while.

“Seonghwa?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, voice small, feeling guilty for taking up his time, praying to every God out there that having to take care of you wouldn’t make him love you any less.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, love. There’s no need to apologize,” Seonghwa was quick with his response. “There’s no shame in letting me take care of you once in a while.” He rubbed your back as he spoke, a simple gesture that sent waves of warmth coursing through your body.

“But-“

“Shh, relax,” he interrupted. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re human. And you’re not alone.” His words were so soft, so gentle, voice vibrating through his chest. Your eyes watered at the mere thought of being loved so unconditionally. You didn’t feel like you deserved it, yet it felt unfair to reject it.

He felt your lips quiver against his neck, and his arms around you tightened ever so slightly. “You can cry, my darling. I’m here.” Seonghwa nuzzled his nose against yours, peppering kisses all over your eyelids, wiping your tears with gentle swipes of his thumb, his lips moving to your cheek, then your forehead.

“I-I love you,” your voice shook, making Seonghwa chuckle, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. You were so cute.

“Oh, (Y/n),” he breathed out, pressing his cheek to your temple. “I love you so much.”

That – unfortunately – only made you cry harder. And he laughed at you, the prick. But it didn’t take long for your own giggles to mingle with his, not when his fingers prodded at your sides with reckless abandon, tears still streaming down your face. You wanted to capture this moment to keep forever, even with the tears and snot. It was warm, it was happy, it was all you could ask for.

As your laughter died down, you rested your head next to his on the small pillow, breath melding with his as you stared into each other's eyes. No more words were exchanged, the quiet surrounding you void of any discomfort. Soon, your fatigue would tug at your eyelids, aided by the soft scratching of Seonghwa's nails against your scalp. Catching a glimpse of the tender smile gracing Seonghwa's lips, you allowed sleep to take over you, slowly carrying you into a dream revolving around the man laying at your side.

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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demigods-posts · 11 months

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Reasons why The Campfire Song from The Lightning Theif musical is an amazing song:

1.) "It's not enough that they're omnipotent and all powerful. They need to feel appreciated." I love that Luke is the one who is outwardly expressing his resentment to the gods, like in the books. I consider this foreshadowing lol. Also, this line sets up the narrative that the gods always know when demigods are talking about them, and the song is literally all of the demigods shitting on the gods as parents, which is hilarious.

2.) "I met the guy once and once was enough! Annabeth?" I enjoy that right after Luke talks about how he never again wants to meet his dad, Luke is the one to get the 'I resent my godly parent' ball rolling and immediately encourages Annabeth to do the same. I've recently been interpreting this as Luke subtly manipulating Annabeth, which isn't too far off from what happens in the book.

3.) "Chiron! Who's your dad?" "Oh, well, my father is Kronos. Remember my lecture: he ate his children." I love how Chiron doesn't even sing a verse, but more so a couple of lines to mock the song, as if it's absurd of him to prove that his father, fucking Kronos, is bad, which is hilarious. But you can also interpret this as him just being like 'my father ate me when I was newborn🤪🤪" and that's equally as hilarious lmao

4.) "If I tried to sing, it'll probably cause an avalanche." QUOTE FROM THE BOOK! PUT SOME RESPECT ON THE CREATORS OF THIS MUSICAL!

5.) "So, my dad is some God. That's great, I guess😒" Percy is so unbothered by the fact that he is literally the descendant of a god. like, he had a huger reaction to Chiron being a centaur lol

6.) "But I don't care where our parents may be. As long as you are here with me!" I think this line is so sweet because these kids safe haven is not just the camp, but each other. No matter what, they got eachother's back and I love that for them. But this line becomes a bit complicated because Luke is the one singing, and we know that he eventually revolts against the gods. it's just sad because that part of Luke that wants to have camp as a support system never left him, I don't think, it's just that he went about finding a support system and avenging the lives of these demigods in an awful way.

This song is cute and funny and it'll break your heart is you let it lol

Tags:

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo text post #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #silena beauregard #katie gardener #luke castellan #chiron brunner #the lightning theif musical #the lightning theif #tlt musical commentary #tlt musical #tlt commentary #tlt musical adaptation

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xxsycamore · 7 months

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'𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

↬ ❤ You make Roy's number one dirty fantasy come true.

Roy Mustang x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Fetish; Fetish Clothing; Skirts; Secret Relationship; Sex in a Car; Semi-Public Sex; Teasing; Fondling; Hand & Finger Kink; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Dom/sub Undertones • wordcount: 2,183 • masterlist

And the rest of the world could disappear and I wouldn't care

'Cause I'm on fire.

(namesake song by Stateless)

a/n: Don't rewatch fma years later if you've become a writer somewhere along the way. You'd have something you want to get out of your system and it will be embarrassing.

"Are you cold, Lieutenant?"

Like a switch that's been flipped, Roy's tone changes once he finds himself alone with you. It was just a second ago when he gave the chauffeur an order, quick and straightforward, putting a start to the two-hour-long ride and shutting the metal cover of the partition that provides privacy to the backseat. Of course, you're accompanying Roy today - it's just you - and having known that in advance, while your Colonel's brilliant mind was at work crafting military plans, yours was coming up with plans of its own. Ones that are quite different in nature.

Your heart rate had quickened the moment you found yourself in the vehicle with Roy. No, even earlier than that. With hot blood pumping through your veins, there's no way you could be cold as per his question. But Roy is oh so perceptive when it comes to you; caring in the way the question rolled off his tongue, colored by his noticeably softer tone.

He's asking you because you're still wearing that long black coat over your uniform today, neatly buttoned all the way up, even if the sun did its best to warm up the earth so that the hours around noon offer weather that is rather pleasant.

And if you said you are cold? What would he do then?

With a well-measured chuckle, you slip into your more casual persona, remembering that you're now behind closed doors, so to say.

"Quite the contrary, I was thinking of taking this off now."

Over the rustling of clothes, your ears pick up on the small humming of part-curiosity part-confusion leaving Roy's mouth. The shared seat is rather cramped in the most perfect way, making your efforts at brushing past Roy's form inconspicuous as you strip off the overcoat. You need his eyes on you for what is about to follow.

You make sure you're half turned to the Colonel as you rise yourself off the seat so you can not only shrug it off your shoulders but also discard it completely to be half-decently folded and soon-to-be-forgotten, at your other side.

"Ah, that's much better—" The words are not yet fully out past your lips before Roy reacts. Your smile widens with mischief as you're granted a few silent seconds which stretch out to a blissful eternity, full of staring freely at Roy's expression. That's the face of a man getting a hard-on, if you know one.

Roy's deep dark eyes are wide with surprise, glued at your lower half, mouth slightly ajar. You're waiting for him to return the gaze. When he finally does, you're witnessing a new shift in his mood.

"What are you wearing, Lieutenant?"

Playing coy, you run a hand across your hip, from knee to the hem of that piece of clothing that seems to have captured Roy's attention so immensely. You swear you can hear the hitching of his breath as you graze the material with the tips of your fingers, barely dragging it higher up your hip than it already is, revealing more of your bare skin underneath.

"Oh, this? I found my old uniform at the bottom of my closet the other day, and… I made some adjustments."

The cheap lie of your casualness is see-through, when Roy can tell the effort behind those modest adjustments. What once was an ordinary part of your blue Amestrian state military uniform has been diligently reshaped into something so wicked and out of place with the attributes it once bore.

At least, that's how most people would see it.

You know that it's clear as day to Roy that you've actually taken care of everything to the tiniest detail; the thin silvery edges along the front pleads and the slit on the left side.

"A miniskirt?" Roy's chuckle is him regaining his composure, and his glove-clad hand palming the ball of your knee is his barely contained interest. It's hard not to part your legs right there and then, almost as if this is the signal you've been waiting for.

"A tiny miniskirt! C'mon Colonel, where is your enthusiasm? This is me showing commitment and loyalty to your high ideals…!"

Playing with fire, you take Roy's hand and guide it upwards to the subject of the conversation. The warmth of your skin is still penetrable as you can feel Roy's burning touch where it comes in contact with it. You egg him on, despite the time and the place, or maybe exactly because of the risk they carry.

"You can treat this as a preview, for the day you finally reach your goal��" You reach out a hand to caress his face, but Roy is quicker, catching it in his grasp.

"Here's my enthusiasm."

With a swift manner, you find yourself manhandled into the position Roy desires, seated on his lap - with your back to him.

Relentlessly, Roy's large palm is laid on the place between your shoulder blades as he pushes, making you bend forward.

You grunt, less out of discomfort than of surprise weaving along with pure desire pooling in your abdomen.

"It's quite short, isn't it? Are you even aware that you're giving me a flash of your underwear right now?"

It's firm and matter-of-factly, Roy's tone, as he sends shivers down your spine, forced to realize you're no longer in control of the speed of events. He could pull out his cock right now and you'd obediently sit back without protest, only able to lament the loss of the rest of the teasing you never got to inflict on your Colonel.

You all but feel his gaze on your ass, the lack of contact killing you as you feel your legs begin to slightly cramp from holding the position. Perhaps your hyper-concentration is what lets you know he is taking off his gloves right now, the faint, familiar sliding sound of the thin material indicating things you can't even wrap your mind around despite being all the same ready for. Luckily Roy doesn't leave you hanging for much longer, even if his next action rips out an embarrassing gasp out of you.

"Ah—"

Sensing his big, strong hands suddenly coming to grasp and grope the globes of your ass through the material of your skirt, or at least the part it does cover a part of, you shamelessly feel desire seeping wetly inside your panties, staining them right where Roy's gaze is bored into. You're all on display for him, and you like it, in combination with the way he squeezes and pulls your asscheeks apart, that's your confirmation. That's exactly what Roy's dirty fantasies were made of, and you're making them all come true right now.

At this point, you should've expected the small slap he gives your ass, but nonetheless you still flinch when Roy leaves a faint imprint of his palm on your cheek.

"Turn around for me."

Without skipping a beat, you shift your position between his long legs, eager to be welcomed in his embrace. Roy lets you straddle him, your legs coming to rest on either side of his, and inevitably your tiny miniskirt rides up even more.

Roy lets out a low humming noise, palming your newly exposed heat through the underwear, and you can tell he felt the wet patch stained with your arousal. He guides you to sit down on him comfortably, but instead of relaxing, you tense up as soon as you feel his raging hard-on tenting his trousers.

You really made him diamonds, a smirk playing on your face with the thought, despite how progressively lightheaded you get. Perhaps there's still room for a witty remark or two before he steals your ability to form coherent words.

"On a second thought… I think I might be rather cold in this skimpy thing…"

You reach out to find his hands, wanting to guide them on your body again, but Roy barely needs the encouragement. With your hands on top of his, he traces the skin of your thighs, exposing you in a lie as he feels how hot your flesh is the more he nears the apex of your thighs.

"Caress me, Roy… set me on fire with your touch…"

The call of his name does things to him you can only vaguely imagine by the way his lower lip slightly twitches. You can tell he's been craving for you to call him by his name in the sea of formality surrounding your daily lives. Right here and right now, he's your Roy; he wants to hear it again and again, and you make use of knowing it well.

"I'll take good care of you, then."

Unzipping his trousers, Roy distracts you with a long-awaited kiss as he makes quick work of his garments, freeing his aching cock. True to his word, his hands continue to roam on you, under the short coat of your uniform, then under your skirt; fingers sticking in the hem of it, toying with it but never taking it off. That's good, that's what you made it for, he needs to enjoy seeing it on you to his fullest.

In contrast to how much he takes his time caressing you, the way he puts your panties to the side is all but cruel and rushed, as if the barrier separating you offends him.

You expect him to shove his cock in you in a heartbeat, but he has other plans. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he maneuvers you up again so your glistening lower lips are only slightly grazing the tip of his cock. So close, yet so far from becoming one with him.

"You're going to pay for doing this when I can't get my fill of you."

Hearing those words, you suck on a breath, eager to know what he means. He gives you the answer without having to ask.

"Nothing to bend you over on. Not enough room to fuck your beautiful thighs."

You mewl as you finally feel his warm hand on your bare heat, wetness pooling on his palm as he rubs your folds in a way that isn't even remotely enough to spark satisfaction.

Maybe he's right, this is cruel of you; the images he paints in your imagination are all too vivid and dreamy when the only thing you can think of is presenting himself to him, enticing him to finally, finally-

Before a loud moan can escape your throat, Roy's hand clasps around your mouth, sealing it shut so no sound can leave. The other he uses to push you down on his cock, piercing you with it on one swift, long thrust.

You pulsate around him, walls tightening and refusing to relax as if afraid he'll deprive you of this pleasure as quickly as he gifted it to you.

Roy doesn't take his hand off just yet, knowing all too well that you have a lot more of those sweet sounds in you that are not suitable for the risky situation you're currently in. Paying attention to the volume of his own voice, he whispers more filth against your nape, bringing forth goosebumps.

"Relax so I can finally fuck you like you wanted to. That's what all of this was for, right? You wanted to be pounded good?"

Feeling Roy beginning to move you up and down on his cock, you can barely think of giving him an answer, but maybe your body does the speaking for you anyway.

"One day I'll seriously have you wear these things around me all the time. Would you mind then, I wonder? Or would you be getting off on the thought of how much you rile me up everytime I catch a glimpse of what's under your skirt?"

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with how good it all feels, his dirty promise, or this little taste you're given of how such a scenario would play out, you do your best to follow Roy's movements as you fuck yourself on his cock harder than how he tries to make you.

The fierce look he gives you with those dark, lust-clouded eyes, is already driving you closer and closer to the edge, and you want to drag Roy together with you. In an attempt to seal his lips with yours, Roy shows mercy and removes his hand from your mouth, changing it for his own mouth.

His low grunts are something you'll hear in your head for days, as he erupts in you right as you fall in the abyss of pleasure, meeting him halfway. His scorching hot semen shoots in you in several pumps as you helplessly tremble in Roy's arms, trusting him to catch you when your body goes limp with pleasure.

He calms down from his high gradually, petting your back as you continue to cum around him.

Not pulling out just yet, Roy kisses the last sparks of afterglow from your lips, making sure you both enjoy this moment to the fullest.

At least until the next time you both can indulge in those perverse fantasies again.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #roy mustang #fma roy #fmab roy #fullmetal alchemist roy #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood roy #fullmetal alchemist fanfic #fma fanfic #fma smut #fullmetal alchemist smut

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t00thpasteface · 5 months

Note

hey sorry i’m sure it’s a little dumb but how did you find a community/make mutuals on here? i swapped from twitter to here last year & haven’t been able to make friends like i did on twitter ;v; sorry if this is all silly but figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. love your art & blog !!!

as i like to say, it's like lifting an anvil: it's very simple, but that doesn't mean it's easy. as someone who's a 12+ year veteran that lurked for a couple years and remade a little while ago, really it all comes down to putting yourself out there!!! don't just sit around twiddling your thumbs and lurking. it's tough to do it without coming off as a pandering tryhard, but honestly as long as you're polite, upbeat, and posting regularly, then you're golden.

if you want a big list of wordy bullet points, here's what i've got, and i think you'll find it's pretty applicable to basically any site/community you want to get involved in:

post a lot. this is number one with a fucking bullet! POST! POST LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. but crucially...

post GOOD STUFF. don't bash yourself in the caption/tags, don't say "sorry this is shit" or whatever, don't self-deprecate, and don't admit to posting low-effort stuff just to hit a quota. imagine it's open mic night and go crazy. this is a good site to use like a journal and a scrapbook, but if you want to actually get some traction, you need to bring something interesting to the table. of course, just being funny and nice goes a very long way.

encourage audience feedback. people LOVE to tell you about themselves and give their opinions. get them responding and make the questions and calls for engagement so interesting or fun they can't help themselves.

tag effectively. use both fandom/content tags for searches, and organizational tags for your visitors' use. the tagging system is tumblr's bread and butter, so make it work for you.

follow a lot of blogs you like. then see who they follow, and add those to the list. build a good circle of engagement and keep your finger on the pulse of the site culture for whatever niche(s) you're in... or want to get in.

reblog a lot and be funny/kind in the tags. generally leaving a lot of comments/replies to post is kind of hit-or-miss, but tags are a good harmless "inside voice" to use that doesn't clutter the post itself and yet still engages with op and people seeing the post

engage with people when they ask for engagement. things like polls, ask games, etc... scratch people's backs and they'll scratch yours. and it's just a nice thing to do regardless :)

panhandling is not always the best route. people will balk if you look desperate or openly beg for engagement, like directly asking people to reblog something or being passive-aggressive about how much engagement you are/aren't getting on something. a genuine joke about it is fun and relatable, but snarky comments just kill the vibe and scare people off.

REMEMBER THERE'S NO ALGORITHM. lurking will not put you or any of the stuff you like out there!! REBLOG POSTS! SEND ASKS! this site will NOT SPOON FEED YOU ANYTHING. like taming a wild stallion, you can make this work for you, but you have to put in the effort first.

some people will think you're annoying, and that's okay. probably not very many, but they'll be loud. this is an unavoidable part of Being Known. you can be the sweetest peach in the world but there'll still be people who just don't like peaches. don't take it to heart, and if you do happen to drop the ball or rub a few people the wrong way, don't let that keep you from trying again :)

i've enjoyed the many friends i've made on this site in the past decade-and-then-some, even though both this site and my blog are both something of a ship of theseus. here's hoping you can make it work for you and your interests, too!

#shebbz shoutz #ask

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sophieinwonderland · 3 months

Note

I joined the SC server out of curiosity because this nonsense has been on my feed all week and fffucckkk why is anyone taking them seriously, theyre just cringe kids (and even cringier adults) who feel like such garbage about their lives they wanna bully systems because they see how much happier we are in ours.

I love this community so much, everyone please take care and remember to do a cleansing ritual to remove these pathetic people from your feeds

On this note, I'll remind people they can block tags if they need to. I try to tag most of my posts about the sub or its server with #r/systemscringe or #systemscringe.

I personally do take them seriously. At least for the harm their misinformation can do. Sure, they're a bunch of clowns, but their misinformation can do real damage.

I believe @cambriancrew was talking not too long about medical forums they're in discussing denying treatment to patients who have DID. This is attributed to the false perception of a mass amount of fakers. A perception driven by places like r/systemscringe.

And disturbingly, some of their members are in medical fields, like this user:

This is what truly terrifies me about these cringe communities.

When you're seeking treatment, you don't know who the people are you're being treated by.

Maybe u/manditobandito isn't someone who gets to decide whether you can get the pain relievers you need, or even life-saving medical treatment. But someone from these communities could be.

They could decide that because you're plural or have a dissociative disorder, that you're malingering and must therefore be faking whatever other conditions you say you have.

And these people won't be basing this on their education. No. Your physicians won't have much more education into mental illnesses than most random people you meet on the street.

Especially for DID, which is barely covered in actual psych classes.

They'll be basing it on what they've heard around.

Think for a moment about the type of misinformation they typically spread, like what I recently debunked over here...

My fear is medical professionals hearing lies like this be repeated and deciding "well, the patient can hear their alters and has fictives so they must be faking," and choosing to deny patients much-needed treatment.

And to be fair, these cringe communities are only one small part of the problem.

But they are part of the problem. And the misinformation they spread can cause real damage.

#syscourse #medicine #doctors #psychiatry #psychology #sysblr #multiplicity #mental health #r/systemscringe #systemscringe #misinformation #hate group

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cho-aaacho · 7 months

Text

(Flufftober 2023) Sharing Clothes

Main Masterlist I Archive of Our Own

Flufftober 2023 Masterlist I Prompts List

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Sharing Clothes, Flufftober 2023, Reader is genderless

(Flufftober 2023 Day 7)

In the boredom world, Leon found himself dancing between daydreams and reality. He momentarily gazes toward the window, sharing his laziness with the melancholy raindrops. His eyes scanned the entire room, breaking free from the cubicle inside his head. His mind adventures to the hot chocolate that graced the table.

The frigid embrace of the weather outside, the cold pitter-patter of rain, and the earthy aroma of damp soil are making him sleepier than usual.

A soft yawn escaped from his lips, his fingers softly tracing his eyelids, tempting him to surrender, and jumped to the bed. But he can't do that since he has been working behind his laptop.

"Is it just me, or is the weather really bad?"

"Hmmm??" Leon turned his sleepy gaze toward you. "Well, yeah, I've always had a love-hate relationship with rain, especially when it's October."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Leon, you always hate every month on the calendar, don't you?"

He shared his laughter with you, a melody of joy floating in the atmosphere as he reached for his steaming cup of hot chocolate.

The rim of his cup clung to his mouth, and he traced it with his tongue, trying to remember the taste. "You always make it sound so dramatic," he said with a gentle purr.

"I don't hate every month on our calendar, my dear. Our anniversary is a gem among those months, and it's important to me."

You returned his gaze with a smile, wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the chill. The cold weather is clinging to your system; even when you are here with Leon, snuggling together on the soft couch under the same blanket, it doesn't help you much.

Your attention drifts to his laptop, where Leon is diligently typing. His side profile, with concentration lines on his forehead, gives you the urge to place a kiss.

With a soft voice and playful longing, you teased him. "AAAAAH, it's so freezing today. I can't move my legs~"

His gaze swept over you before returning to the laptop. "Are you freezing?" he inquired, his velvety fingers caressing your cheek.

With a playful pout on your lips, you replied, "What do you think, Leon?"

"What do you want me to do? Changing the weather like the Avatar Aang?"

You playfully punched his chest until he released a delightful giggle from his lips. His eyes twinkled at you, feigning the ache from that punch. Your laugh, floating like a mischievous sprite, tickles him so much that it makes his head spin. He was almost intoxicated, and he couldn't get away from the sweetness of your charm.

"Okay... Okay... sweetheart," he murmured, while caressing the contours of your delicate earlobe, playing with the tendrils of your hair, and giving a gentle pinch on your nose.

"I'm quite lazy to take another blanket. So, how about you wear my sweater? I believe you'd find it quite endearing."

He gingerly slipped off his sweater. It has a blue and white pattern on it. His sweater wrapped around your body, and his scent allured your body to the point that it made you addicted to his natural scent.

You wrapped yourself in your arms, trying to find his warmth. With a heartwarming smile, you gazed at him. Leon, almost in disbelief, couldn't help but be charmed by your expression, his cheeks blushing with a charming rosy hue that mirrored the dawn.

Ah...

He added a playful wink. "Plus, you can bask in my scent, and now... congratulations, you are now officially 'Second Leon."

"What do you mean, 'Second Leon? You're so funny."

#resident evil #resident evil leon s kennedy #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy resident evil #leon x you #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy fluff #leon fluff x reader #leon fluff resident evil #leon fluff #fluff x reader #flufftober2023 #flufftober

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heartofspells · 8 months

Text

on the etiquette of fandom respect

I'm not sure why I'm doing this, really. We've all seen those other posts that circulate around (or the vast majority of us have, at least from my notice) discussing things like negativity towards creators and proper etiquette when it comes to commenting and bookmarking and sharing another person's work. It always seems to fly in one ear and out the other, yet here I am, preparing to write an essay, mainly because I don't think we should ever stop saying it in the hopes of improvement.

Let's start this with bookmarks on AO3, because it seems like people either forget, they don't know, or possibly they simply do not care. Bookmarks can be seen by creators. Meaning they can see your tags, your bookmark collections, and your bookmark comments. There are numerous creators who enjoy going through the bookmarks on their works to see these things, because it's extra insight into why someone liked or even loved that creation, most times. There are also, in my experience, a lot of people who bookmark works and do not comment, so again, it gives the creator that extra special boost to keep doing what they're doing, to create more.

Leaving personal rating scores for a work, downgrading comments, or, in all honesty, opinions on what you did not like in the work is unkind. No one is coming to attack how you choose to keep track of your bookmarks, but please remember these are PUBLIC unless otherwise chosen by you. You can, however, make private bookmarks that only you can view. Even the creators cannot see these beyond a number of how many bookmarks a work collectively has. If you have a rating system or opinions on a work that could even remotely be construed as unkind, please make your bookmarks private. It's incredibly simple. There is a checkbox to select.

Now onto comments and the etiquette behind it. No one is forcing you to comment. While it is appreciated by all creators, it isn't a requirement. Creators love hearing from everyone who views their work. Comments bolster creators, encourage them to continue creating if they love doing it, which most creators do. But if the only thing you can think to say is something demeaning, criticizing, or has no bearing on the work you just viewed, it's probably better not to say anything at all. If you have questions, ask them. Creators love talking about their works, typically. Most will jump at the chance for a discussion. But this does not give anyone the right to ask accusatory questions that degrade a person's work. Also, leaving a comment about any work that blatantly goes against the very obviously stated tags/warnings, or leaving a comment that is short and brief and really doesn't make any sort of reference to the work itself is rude, plain and simple. Do not do that.

You are not being asked to leave a novel behind in your comment (though that's almost always appreciated to a massive extent). Leave a few kind words about liking or loving the work, because just something as simple as "loved this!" goes a long way as encouragement. If you have the time or something specific, tell the creator about a part you liked. They'll adore you for it. But again, none of it is a requirement. All creators ask for is a bit of common sense and respect from people in exchange for what they've created. Basic rule of thumb: ask yourself if you made something you were proud of and showed it to someone, would you be happy or hurt by the comment you're about to leave?

Lastly, let's discuss credit. It's seen a lot, and pretty much everywhere now. Someone finds artwork or a fic or maybe even a simple quote from a work they enjoy, and they repost it with no credit, not even a title (in regards to fics). No reference back to the creator at all. Stop gatekeeping works that do not belong to you. You do not own those works. They have been shared with you, nothing more. By transferring them or even a piece of them somewhere else without proper credit, you are not only removing someone else's ability to properly view this work without directly asking what it's from (if they ask at all, which most do not), you are taking that potential encouragement away from the creator and making them feel worthless.

These works, whatever they may be, were created for you. You may try to argue that they were shared in a public forum, and the creator should understand that by doing so, they're opening themselves up to potential criticism, theft, and even bullying. And you would be right, creators are fully aware of this. But here's the thing: these works, at least in a fandom setting, are being created for FREE. A person is taking time out of their life to make this wonderful thing, and they are offering it humbly solely for the pleasure of doing it, to bring you pleasure.

And you might even argue that creators are not making these things for you, but for the world. But aren't you part of the world? Did you find and are you reading/viewing/listening to these works? If so, then yes, they were created for you, with you in mind. All creators ask for in return, literally the only thing, is some basic human kindness and decency, because creators are not required to share anymore than you're required to comment or spread their works around.

Some creators have thicker skins than others, but keep going as we have been, and one day, the content you love so much might be gone. It's already beginning to disappear for lesser things. Don't be the reason it continues.

#food for thought #fandom etiquette #comment etiquette #free advise #take it or leave it #i'm sure it'll be left and overlooked or ignored #but at least i've tried and said my peace

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madameminor · 1 year

Text

WHY I DON'T LIKE TECH x PHEE: An unintentional essay

Alright, yall, I've figured it out on my end. I think. I just need to get some of this out so that I can move past it. I'm not even gonna tag it under tech x phee, cause you know what, I don't want to harsh the mellow over in that space, I'm just voicing what I've discovered.

This is long.

Wanda Sykes: I LOOOOOVE Wanda Sykes, love her - love her so much that I can't see anyone else with her voice. A 60 year old lesbian comedian... and you want to make her a 20 something pirate captain flirting with a male cl- no. No. Capital N. O. Like, I thought she and Rhea Perlman were going to be a fun comedic, older duo playing off of each other. Or that they'd have some sort of sassy relationship. But instead she's a coy, fun adventurer who starts to join in TBB family? Nope. No. Didn't sell it for me. Gimme someone else, might have worked. Try Anika Noni Rose, or if you need that star factor, Halle Barry or Beyonce or, for fucks sake LIZZO (can you imagine her beautiful voice as Phee? OOOO I just shivered. Loved her as the Duchess, but her as Phee! Instantly WAAAAY more excited about that character.) Not Wanda Fucking Sykes (like I said, LOVE her. But no. Choices.)

The Build Up: You guys. We are all literally writers. Where were the beats? Where were the moments? You naturally want there to be a moment the audience goes 'ooooooh yeah ok I see it'. IT HAPPENED WITH HUNTER. The next day I remember quite a few of us going 'OMG YES!!! Yes, totally ship that, saw the chemistry with Phee and Hunter! Into iiiiit.' I resisted that one too, cause of the Wanda Sykes thing, but you know what? IT. WORKED. I went with it cause it worked. Was actually kind of excited. Was looking forward to the fics. Did not happen once with Tech, never saw anyone go 'oh look at that chemistry between pirate and genius'. NOPE BTW SUDDENLY THEY'RE ALL TEASING TECH AND TECH AND PHEE ARE IN A SCENE AND THIS IS ALL ABOUT THESE TWO TAH DAAAAH! No. Nope. Not how it works. Feels like my favorite is getting the shitty end of the romance arc stick. Fuck off, no. We have all written better.

Toxic Matchup: The way Phee (see dude, I almost wrote Wanda. Thats how much I can't not see her in this character) treats Tech. One of my mutuals on here, @shadestepping, put it perfectly - "It’s because instead of understanding who tech is as a person and being respectful of how his mind works, she tries to force him to mask because it’s what she wants/it makes communicating with him easier". The example that keeps popping into my head is when Phee sarcastically says "when two people are talking its called a conversation". My eyebrows shot UP, like, this is one of the FIRST THINGS YOU LEARN about Tech- his face is in his datapad. Treating him like an idiot (which is what it sounds like in Wanda voice) because he is doing what he is always doing is not ok (seriously, WTF, dude?). Another mutual, @dumfanting agreed and shared how that hit them: "As someone whose been forced to mask for her entire life, that is wrong and damaging and perpetuates the idea that we as austitics are only worthy of love if we continue to suppress ourselves." And it really doesn't have to be that way. I can rewrite every scene they are in together, still have her be sassy, have her show interest and respect for who he is, and still move him out of his comfort zone. I will do it, if I need to, just to prove it. If the writers are trying to give her some growth too, cool, then TAKE THE TIME TO DO THAT - instead we only hear how HE's being taken out of his comfort zone. How about HER? You want to be with him? Maybe you have to meet him half way, honey

Ultimately, I could have gotten behind this if it was done another way - but the way they went about it missed so many marks. And for my man, that's unacceptable to me. He deserves the best, not something thrown together.

I have spoken.

(Ok, I think that is out of my system.)

#kind of geek therapy #geek therapy for me #cause expressing thoughts and feelings appropriately are good for me #tbb tech #the bad batch

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m00nsbaby · 8 months

Note

Hello :3

I hope I'm not bothering you and I hope this is okay to request, I don't want to push boundaries and make you uncomfortable because I know that I'm asking for a lot right now, but I was listening to Spotify and the song "We'll Never Have Sex" by Lieth Ross came on (it's a very good song and it really gets me in my feels, I really recommend listening to it) and my first thought was the Moon boys with reader who struggles with past SA and thinks of themselves a ruthless monster since the reader is an active mercenary (I don't know if you write for male readers or not but I'm politely asking if you can make the reader male please and thank you 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 it's okay if not)

Sorry for rambling so much and asking for a lot of things from you, please don't feel rushed to make this and be sure to take care of yourself

The Nerve.

Moon system x M! Reader.

Tags & warnings. Mentions of death, hints of SA, violence, blood, abuse, inaccurate representation of DID.

Sorry for the amount of text on this writers note, lol: Hi!!! So, this is my first request!! :) And I have a lot to say lol.

To whoever sent me this request I want to thank them for trusting in me and my writing to make something that feels somehow personal and for being the nicest ever! <3 Don't say sorry for asking for certain stuff, I really from the bottom of my heart hope that this fulfills what you wanted to read <3

Word count. 2.9k

Summary.

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me, Not to take me home. It was simple, it was sweetness, It was good to know.

It had been a long time since the idea of death had ceased to matter to you.

When Bushman took everything from you and slowly immersed you in a world you never wanted to be a part of in the first place, you began to understand that perhaps whoever ended your life would be doing you a favor.

So when your mission turned into breaking into one of the neighborhoods protected by the vigilante in white to 'dispose of' some random person, you accepted without protest.

And that was basically the context of how you ended up like this, underneath him with his hands on your neck. You had put up a good fight; in fact, you could see how his chest rose and fell heavily with fatigue. In the end, your training was nothing compared to whatever was protecting him.

The air escaped from your lungs, your vision was blurry, and you heard him growl beneath the mask, your body was about to give in.

You were almost happy to know that this was finally the day. You stopped fighting, and in less than 10 seconds, the ceremonial white suit turned into an ordinary white and cream-toned tuxedo. The mask disappeared as well, and his startled expression filled your entire field of vision.

"Marc?" you whispered with a hoarse voice, and his orbs widened even more in surprise.

"Do you know him?" the vigilante murmured to himself, his hands trembling as he moved them away from your neck.

As much as you tried to hold on, your body gave in just a little while later, from exhaustion, shock, or perhaps the lack of oxygen in general.

The punishment for failing had been worse than you remembered.

It had been a long time since you had failed a mission.

Still, as you tended to your wounds, there wasn't much on your mind other than the encounter with Marc. Your Marc.

For several months now, you had come to accept the idea that he was dead, even if 'accept' for you meant crying in his name during the nights or using all your strength to pound your fists as a way to vent your anger for losing him.

Was it really him, or had your mind gone to him immediately when it thought you were about to die?

And if that was Marc, had he recognized you, or had the mask done its job well?

It was foolish of him to assume that you hadn't felt his footsteps behind you. He had been following you from at least four blocks away, and even though you knew it was him, you had no desire to confront him.

You were angry, of course, the rage at the thought of him trying to excuse his disappearance flooded you every time you stopped to think, but probably the word that would work best right now would be 'tired.' It was your day off, probably the only one in the week when you didn't stain yourself with blood and didn't have to deal with work.

And there he was, reminding you of every horrible detail of your life with his mere presence.

When your body pushed his against a wall in the nearest alley, both of you remembered that although he might be stronger, he would never be smarter.

He raised his hands in a sign of innocence, and you took the liberty to study his face in detail after so long. The same mischievous curl of hair always ran across his forehead, and his brow was furrowed, not out of annoyance or surprise, that had always been Marc's lifelong expression.

"What are you doing here?" You spat out the words with more bitterness than you would have liked.

He didn't respond. Apparently, he was still the same as always. When you let go of him, his body seemed even more tense.

"Oh, you're not going to answer, I get it," you nodded to yourself. You could swear you were going crazy. "If your plans don't involve killing me or attempting it like the other night, or maybe speaking and using your damn mouth for once, I want you to stay away from me."

He was not able to say anything or to follow you.

Unfortunately, what Marc didn't anticipate was that your encounters wouldn't be solely with him, as there were two other individuals in his head waiting to come out at the slightest provocation.

The second time around, Jake was in charge, and somehow, he had even less control over his punches.

"Who are you, niño bonito?" (Pretty boy.) You groaned in pain as his foot on your chest forced you to stay on the ground, catching your breath. "Why is Marc so interested in you, huh?"

You didn't respond; in fact, you didn't even believe you had processed his questions. Instead, you pulled on his foot, the same one that was on top of you, and brought him down in a thud. You felt the hint of a smile on your face.

"Mierda." he muttered under his breath, and without giving him a chance, you escaped from him.

You had a million theories in your mind. With all your time in that world, you knew inside and out every kind of torture imaginable, and the idea that Marc's memory was failing didn't seem so far-fetched.

That, or he simply wanted to pretend he didn't know you, although that made much less sense. Either way, he was an idiot for injuring your shoulder tonight.

Then you had an encounter with Steven, and it was much more enlightening than the previous three. You almost killed him when you saw him in front of your apartment, with those puppy-dog eyes and soothing himself with a hand game. You noticed that his sleeves were longer than his arms.

Hah.

"What do you want, Marc?"

"I don't…" A funny accent. You caught it in the first few seconds. "I'm not Marc."

That led to a conversation that the mentioned one probably wouldn't have enjoyed because Steven took it upon himself to tell you in detail everything that had happened in the months when you hadn't been in contact with your ex-best friend and former mission partner.

You knew about his mother, you knew Marc's tumultuous past and how all of that had led him to belong to one of the largest and most terrible groups of mercenaries and thieves on the continent, but it turns out the idiot never told you another result of the trauma.

Dissociative Identity Disorder.

You had a faint understanding of how it worked, and Steven seemed so nervous that you were afraid to ask for a deeper explanation. The whole situation gave you an exceptional headache, but the real story was nowhere near as crazy as half of the theories you had in mind for days.

Oh, and you also understood that he didn't seek you out by his own choice.

"I can understand why he can't stop thinking about you," Steven said as gently as he could after a few prolonged minutes of silence.

It was surprising how he managed to make his voice not sound like he was flirting with you, just a sweet confession, accompanied by a nervous smile.

"He wants to talk to you but doesn't know how." It was the next thing he said, understanding that it was time to leave and leave you alone; you had a lot to think about.

Your feet dangled at the edge of a building's ledge as you sipped your beer as if you'd been thirsty for days, Marc was doing the same beside you. Both of you laughed at nonsense, so close that your shoulders brushed against each other. "We're heading back home," you murmured with your eyes closed as you enjoyed the cold breeze hitting your body. Marc was looking at you, he always did. Over time, you understood that returning from your missions was never really coming home; Marc was your home. "If you let yourself get shot again, I'm going to kill you myself." You laughed with your eyes closed; your leg still hurt. After long minutes of silence, the other's hand found its way to your chin. And you opened your eyes, looking at him with confusion. His fingers gently pressed against your skin, and you obediently leaned in. He was so close. You could smell mint and beer on his breath, his eyes seemed to shine brighter than the stars that night. The daydream lasted briefly, before you could react, your entire body was pulling back, rejecting him in the full meaning of the word. Marc didn't insist after that day; he understood well what your expression of fear meant.

You woke up drenched in sweat, your breath ragged as if you had run a marathon. You no longer had to bear the idea that Marc had left without knowing that you felt the same way he did, but things had changed so much that you weren't even sure if he had come back.

Marc began to let Jake take charge when you played this little game of the cat and the mouse.

You weren't going to yield, and it wasn't out of a passion for the job; you knew what failing meant to Bushman. You had experienced it more times than you would have liked since Marc had disappeared that night in Cairo.

Jake was more… aggressive than usual; you could feel it in the force with which he struck.

In a moment of distraction, you stopped his fist with your hand, and although you couldn't see his face, you knew you had taken him by surprise.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" He growled. His accent allowed you to recognize him, just like with Steven, who had told you all about the two of them.

"Until you give up," you squeezed his fist between your fingers, "or kill me."

You felt him suddenly stop pressing when you said that. The mask disappeared in front of your eyes, and he tilted his head slightly to the side as he examined you with his eyes.

You rewarded him by removing your mask, letting him see your face. You heard him gulp.

"¿Quién eres?" (Who are you?) He whispered, and both of you let your guard down in seconds.

You didn't answer, just as Marc would've done, and the truth was, you didn't even know who you were. His now-enemy? An old friend of Marc? Now a stranger?

It turns out that one of the many nights you crossed paths, Jake and you were able to talk. In some other circumstance, you would have joked about how you liked him better than Marc.

He was more friendly when he wasn't trying to break your ribs.

"What happened?" You feared the question, but maybe it would be fair to let it out for once in your life.

"He was…" You cleared your throat, searching for what to say. "He was very special to me." You didn't have the strength to say he was your everything. "My best friend."

Both of you had met while working for Bushman, and the connection was undeniable for both.

And although you adored him, you thought you were crazy when you felt him brush his hand against yours, or when he hugged you as if he wanted to squeeze the oxygen out of your lungs when he found you alive at the end of a mission.

Jake understood why he felt so drawn to you, where that strange feeling of nostalgia came from when he saw you.

"Do you miss him?" The question hurt more than the blows, and you realized that you had never talked about this with anyone, as if Marc were only a product of your solitary imagination.

Of the three, Jake was the one who had lived through and seen the worst things as Marc and Steven's protector, so it wasn't hard for him to understand what you had faced throughout your life.

And the truth was, he was afraid to ask. He was afraid to go too far because his mind sent him to something as personal as it was terrifying.

He realized it in probably the least reasonable way for both when your late-night conversations gave him the idea that maybe you felt the same way he did, even though he wasn't Marc. He leaned forward, and his lips collided with yours. It felt right, a strange feeling of 'finally.' You reciprocated, your lips gently brushing against his in a gesture as intimate as it was delicate.

The problem came when he rested a hand on your thigh for stability as he leaned forward. Your heart stopped.

The fear was almost paralyzing, almost. Not enough for you not to push him away, and Jake obeyed without exerting force, although he did look at you confused, worried.

You had to blink many times to try to clear your vision. momentarily, it was as if Jake's face merged with someone else's. Your eyes filled with tears, your body suddenly rejecting his before running away.

You didn't see them for the next two weeks, and you continued to move in the shadows, this time without interruption. At least they wouldn't get you into trouble.

Although the rule didn't apply to Steven Grant, who was trying to get your attention with his ridiculous white tuxedo while you cleaned a wound on your cheek.

"What's up, Steven?" Your voice was so soft that even he was surprised. To Jake's panic, he could swear you were disgustingly upset with them.

"Jake feels sorry." That was the first thing he said.

And you laughed.

"Why?"

"For not asking for your permission." Well, that was new.

Did anyone ask for it?

You took longer than you would have liked to confront Marc, he was probably as reluctant to these encounters as you were. He visited your apartment and didn't even greet you.

But you understood. You understood as you had been understanding for a long time, and you let it pass.

You spent the evening with your head in his lap, and he touched your hair delicately as if he were going to hurt you. Quite ironic after the number of blows you had received from him.

Or from his body, rather.

You had never been with him… like this. The closest had been that night on the rooftop.

Marc ran his hands through your hair as much as he wanted to, but he never went beyond your neck; he could feel your body tense when his fingers grazed your skin. He understood it, and from the darkness, Jake did too.

The issue wasn't him, and it wasn't you either.

Do you ever think about them?" Jake looked at you, curious.

"Them?"

"The ones affected."

Ah, them. He pressed his lips together as he thought about what to say; if Marc was bad with words, he somehow was even worse.

"I try not to."

You nodded slowly, satisfied with the answer. He had stopped chasing you a while ago; he had other methods to distract you from your missions, although you never told him what that resulted in. Maybe he already imagined it, or he was so focused on you that he never noticed.

He placed his hand over yours and looked at you intently for a brief moment, as if confirming that you were okay with it. You moved your hand to entwine your fingers together.

He gave you a squeeze, catching your attention.

When you looked at him, he gave you a smile.

"I'm here." Just what you wanted to hear.

Your invitation surprised Steven, who, although he understood that there was something between you, didn't know to what extent because of how volatile you were.

Thankfully, Steven was the most careful and innocent person you could know, so your invitation to sleep together was taken just as that, with no jokes involved.

You spent the early hours talking about everything, and somehow, although the four of you spent more time talking than you thought, the conversation never seemed to end. And as expected, you got to that topic.

You were crying, as you had started doing for some time now.

"I don't deserve you."

"What are you talking about, love?" He laughed in genuine confusion. One of his arms was around you, and you felt his warm breath on your neck.

"I'm not… I…" You mumbled, taking a breath. "I'm a bad person."

You felt him tense behind you; suddenly, he was holding you tighter against his chest, and you didn't feel fear. In fact, you could swear you felt a deep need for more contact from him.

"M-Marc, he's…" Another sob from you, why was it physically painful to express your feelings? "He's fixing the things he's done, you know?" You had to take a breath to continue. "The people I've hurt, the things I've done…"

Steven moved his hand up your body, and his hand pressed against your chest as if he needed to feel the beats of your heart for comfort. He didn't know what to say.

"You're not a bad person." He made you cry even more, if that was possible.

"I, I don't…"

"Shhh." He exerted more pressure on your chest to make you feel your own ragged breathing. "You're not a monster."

Steven had thought something similar about himself; he knew well what you were feeling.

And Marc, and Jake.

That's all you needed to hear to know that you were in good hands, even in this moment when you felt nothing but the urge to cry.

He got you.

The number of scars on your body already exceeded the space you had in your memory to remember all the horrible stories they told. And yet, Steven kissed them all.

Hii, i'm not doing tag list on this one because of the themes I talked about :)

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