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#If you come into my askbox with that I will not give you the time of day.

wrylu · 26 days

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Francis has me gnawing on the cages of my enclosure, why did I make the middle-aged Irish priest attractive….

Here he is when he was in his late teens and early twenties :3

D-Do you like Francis >///<

oh my

sir??? SIR????

nonono first of all, YOU. ma'am. 🧎‍♂️ vivi, you can't do this to me. THE ANATOMY??????? THE SIDE PROFILE?? IT'S JUST SO. PERFECT??

AND THE HAIR? vi.

AND SECOND???? i love middle-aged men wait what

no really, HE'S SO GORGEOUS . DO I LIKE HIM?? I LOVE HIM.

i don't get flustered like this that much but

#oh my goshers i love u and your art so much ugh come here and give me a hug already #no because how are you so skilled #partea time!#ask #asks #askbox #moot ask

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999deadblog999 · 2 years

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I'm not gonna lie, I feel like I have a problem with the term 'abusive people.' I'm not huge on the indication that they're just like that, as a person, and even if they tried to change, they're 'still an abusive person'

I absolutely don't intend to erase anyone's experiences-I'd be erasing my own too if that were the case. However, doing dbt and learning how to frame things in a healthy lense... It's not helpful to me in my healing to see things phrased like that. It just feels weird. I've hurt people before and not realized it- and they turned and leveraged the idea of 'abusive people' against me and told me I would never change, and that fucked with me for years. It still does sometimes. Even when I'm doing great, being social, and working on myself, it's hard to get away from seeing that drilled at you while you're trying to sincerely apologize for your behavior.

I've never found a situation painted with broad, unforgiving strokes to be compassionate or helpful. It just twists your thinking into a more 'them VS us' view of the world, which is precisely the type of black/white thinking that dbt therapists generally try to get you away from.

Everyone has the capacity to heal. Whether they act on it or not is on their own accord.

#Clavikiss personal #Im just frustrated with seeing that in trauma healing communities and I'm like... :/#It's just a different type of weaponization. People are just people. And sometimes people can get real lost and be really shitty.#Sometimes they're remorseless and not interested in don't better. My birth family is like that. I get that.#My biggest prob with it comes in when ppl use it to assert their ableism against ppl with stigmatized mental health problems #Which seems like it happens quite a lot unfortunately #And it's precisely that type of thinking that led an older trans woman to abuse myself and my boyfriend-she was convinced one or both of us #Have NPD. And sure #One of us does #But turning around to be unremorsefully shitty towards with that others won't heal the trauma she acquired from her abuser.#It left us with even more trauma we'll have to unpack with a therapist that'll hear us.#It perpetuates an exhausting cycle.#Hurt people hurt people. Break the cycle. There's never a reason to believe someone is innately shitty because 'it's just how they are'#Everyone has the capacity to heal and be better.#Everyone.#I mean it.#Doesn't mean you have to talk to them #But developing an us VS them mindset won't heal your pain. It'll just make you scared. Or a hurtful person to be around.#Also- no I'm not being transphobic I'm literally trans and talking about my experience #If you come into my askbox with that I will not give you the time of day.#People in minority groups have just as much capacity to be abusive as someone who is not.

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roobylavender · 5 months

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oh brotherrrrrr nobody cares about reading all that i just wanted you to tag your hate and stop playing ship police. there’s no one “given” way to interpret batcat esp because comics are not the only medium for them unlike bt. people are likelier to see batcat as “endgame” (whatever that means) because some people ship them in the coming reevesverse or the nolanverse or they engage with other works where bruce doesn’t have 10 billion other love interests like the comics. there are just too many interpretations of batcat for you to pigeonhole their dynamics in any which way and they will continue to shift and change as decades pass. as for the wedding, many newcomers were disappointed about the way it was handled and that’s just natural considering the way it was set up. anybody else would be just as upset by such a thing occurring for their own ship. not that serious for you to be ranting about how batcat fans don’t understand their ship when most of them are just joking around about endgames and they do know the ship is never going to be together forever. even clois doesn’t have that guarantee in comics. hopefully you’ll stop writing 5 page essays on here and twitter now.

it's absurd to get so pissy over an ask the wording of which i had no control over 😭 and you're the one not censoring here so this will end up in the tag again (i tried to copy-paste this into my askbox and censor on my own but for some reason when i tried half of your ask got cut off because of a character limit. maybe it's a desktop thing). whenever i talk about bc otherwise (and there are plenty of times i do because i enjoy their relationship) i censor the ship precisely because i don't want to end up in the tags. this has been my consistent practice for everything since i moved here. the fact that one (1) post inadvertently ended up in the tag because an anon forgot to censor and it incited this relentless of an interrogation from you is ridiculous. it's not ship hate to analyze the reductive way in which people engage with dc love interests at large or the way that core tenets of female characters by their creators have been obscured over time due to the evolving priorities of writers or the restrictive nature of adaptations. would it be ship hate to discuss how levitz wrote a bc marriage in the 70s only to kill selina within the same comic so that her imaginary daughter figure could be propped up for the next decade at the expense of any development or further introspection for her? why is it ship hate when someone analyzes the misogynist reduction and obscurity enacted upon her in narrative due to her relationship with bruce but it's not ship hate when someone logically (and rightfully) does the same thing with talia?

i don't mind you being upset that my earlier ask ended up in the tag and i'm sure after this if anyone does send an ask they'll censor it. but from the way you addressed me thereafter it's clear you've been either following me or keeping tabs on me for a long time and frankly i'm confused as to why. this is the thing that baffles me about the people who repeatedly continue to harass me here. the nature of my analysis hasn't changed in well over a year. i nitpick about dc love interests' development and writing in comics a lot. whether that's with regards to talia, selina, kory, barbara, etc. this is because before anything else i'm invested in female characters and their development within a medium largely dominated by male creators. if that mode of analysis is something bothersome or even hateful to you you have every right to block me. it would afford you a lot more peace and i would encourage it

#also giving credence exclusively to comics over other mediums when analyzing a dynamic is not pigeonholing lmao #you have marvel comic fans who rightfully complain about the dilution of characters and themes via the mcu #i don't see why that wouldn't similarly apply anywhere else #nor was upset with the wedding event exclusively relegated to new fans although obv they were a part of it #and my point precisely /is/ that all too many dc fans' engagement with comics does not extend beyond the phenomenon of shipping #i think a medium largely created to engage with sociopolitics should be about more than mashing barbie dolls together. personally #regardless. as i voiced above this mode of analysis is not nor has ever been new for me #when i come across people in tags i find distasteful i block them and they disappear #i don't harass them in their askbox bc frankly it's a waste of my time. i would think it would be a waste of your time as well #outbox

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kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings · 1 year

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Hi! If youre still doing requests, i have kind of an odd ask , but maybe some of the upper moons' reactions to meeting Muzan's wife (reader). I also really like whipped!Muzan so maybe the other demons' reactions to seeing the demon king doting on his wife. Thank you very much :)

Hi Anon! (^○^.) I actually love this request, so thank you for sliding it into my askbox ♥

Honestly I love a powerful man - especially a powerful villain - who's just absolutely in love with their wife (♥ω♥.) and would do anything for them, it just brings me joy.

Anyway! I'm rambling abit, but here is your request! I hope I've done it justice (^ω^.) Please enjoy!

Come again to request whenever you want cause I'm always open.

Muzan Kibutsuji being whipped for his wife + Upper Moons Reactions - Headcannons:

You know those types of men that are just unmovable pillars of stone - who look like they were carved from the finest marble by the hands of angels - who are always impeccably dressed with a voice of icy poison and just command your attention?

Who turn to the softest love-struck mush when with their wife

yeah, that's Muzan Kibutsuji with his wife (aka. you)

The finest meals, clothes and jewelry are yours with a click of his fingers - all done to make you happy, to see you smile

Anything that you mention briefly - doesn't matter if it''s a book or a holiday - its yours by the end of the day

Just one smile and a fluttering of your eyelashes has muzan on his knees - a singular pout of your lips has his mind running wild

You just have to breathe and Muzan's heart squeezes, breath stuttering in his chest as he looks at you in adoration

You could ask for the world and he'd give it too you on a platter

Muzan worships you

Each touch from you is a blessing to his skin

Each kiss sealed into him

Each word of love that falls from your lips make him drunk to hear, each sentence thick with a love that leaves hearts in his eyes and his heart thumping wildly

He wants to wear you like a brand - each mark you leave on him (bite marks and all) are worn with pride - and you (and only you) get to touch and mark his skin in such sensual ways

Under his wedding ring, his finger holds your bite mark, something that he begs you to do each day - with love-struck tears pricking his eyes - and it always makes him feel like he's properly yours

"My Love," He purrs with a voice a think velvet "My wonderful wife, my moon and stars, I love you for ever and always" and he kisses you so softly

Sometimes you have to stop this man from wearing matching clothes with you - "But Beloved,"he whimpers with a face liked a kicked puppy "I want us to match" - because he will absolutely wear a matching couples outfit

Other days he just likes sharing the same colour palette

When you worship him by placing soft kisses to his skin - his wrists, knuckles and faces - Muzan feels like he's on cloud nine

Upper Moons Reactions:

When the upper moons first met you, it was by accident - pure accident -they'd been summoned and it just so happened that it was when muzan was just in the midst of kissing you and bathing you with compliments

Kokushibou doesn't even blink and just stands in position like a trained guard, this sight has been something he's accidentally stumbled upon a couple of times before and honestly it makes him miss his wife

Because this isn't the first time he's met you but rather the fifth, the first actually time he met you, you were incredibly respectful of him and actually treat him nicely - you became tea drinking buddies - so he quickly came to like you

Douma/Doma genuinely shrieks - like an honest to god scream - before quickly going to make fun (not a good idea) about how loving Muzan is and, "Why don't you treat us this way Muzan-sama~ You're breaking my heart~"

Akaza looks away from such an intimate scene with respect since it felt wrong to look upon his lord loving his wife - although his heart does ache for some reason when looking at such a perfect loving scene

Hantengu starts sobbing while apologizing anxiously - actually very jealous at how loving the scene is, he wants a wife and to dote on someone

Gyokko simply proclaims it as artful and simply leaves it as such

Daki Blushes a deep crimson - it makes her want a husband to dote on her so much

While Gyutaro simply sighs before looking away - much like kokushibou and akaza in respect - with jealous crawling up his ribs at such love, he wants somebody to dote on and love him so romantically

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twentyninth · 11 days

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❝ 𝐜𝐮𝐳 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ❞ hsr x reader 𓆩 𓇼 𓆪

pairings. dan heng, caelus, sampo, welt yang, gepard, blade, jing yuan, luocha x gn!reader

a/n: i miss getting silly little reuqests like this . send me requests guys (if u snet a req b4 its not in the swag askbox anym sighhh), reupload from old blog!!

warnings:oh no SEX AND NSFW AAAHHH, breeding kink caelus, jing yuan, and blade, bc yes!!. kinda bdsm w blade, praise kink w jing yuan, degrading kink w blade, kinda sadist sampo, belly bulge 👍👍, fingering BUT NOT IMPLIED FEM READER 🤬🤬

dan heng is more than happy to be yours, legally, and to be the man to put a ring on your finger. has waited his whole life for this moment, to see you walk down the aisle and everything. and nothing more than finally carrying you in his arms to the bedroom of your newly built house. but having your hands pinned to the bedframe, as his cock is so brutally penetrating your hole, and he can't help but praise you for being such a good pet and taking all of him in you. the endless thrusts you felt that kept coming, and your hole so easy to work himself in and out from all the cum from the rounds that happened hours ago, it felt so endless in your mind, but dan heng couldn't help but indulge himself into you, because you're finally his, and he's finally yours. more under the cut.

caelus thought he was foreign to this kind of stuff, like no one would ever would love him like that back. but he's here now, and you are too. picks you up bridal style on the way up stairs, ripping your wedding dress off. (not rly, just takes it off you, but lets just say he did) all he wants is to literally fill your precious hole up with his seed :(( can't help but go another round, because his stamina was just too much for you to handle, but all it did was turn him on more! the way his cock made such a cute mark on your tummy.. he couldn't help but cum at the sight of how your poor hole will remember the shape of his cock, and his alone.

sampo..? i'm surprised someone actually married him, anyways! kind of rough with it honestly, still type of guy to just ravage himself in you. taking his sweet time, especially when you were so close.<3 your expression, and the way you were just whimpering, and begging for him to just harshly thrust into you to finish it up. all he could say was "i wanna make this night extra memorable for you, and me~!", wants to be begging for his cock to just shoot his warm seed into you already.

welt yang.. all i gotta say is that he's overjoyed, over the moon that he got married to someone as amazing, stunning, to be his world, his everything, the person he'd start a family with. but before all of that, ever since you both started your relationship, he promised himself, that on the night of your marriage, that's when he'd give you the time of your life. a time where you'll always remember. remember the way his huge cock would just be so rough with you aa, just wants you to get every drop of his cum till your belly bulge that he put inside you is so full of his seed, or that your hole will always remember the shape of his dick muahahahshhdkfjvi

gepard my man! already planned it out, knows exactly how the night will go, maybe.. but whatever happens tonight will be according to a plan. probably saved his virginity for this moment, he.. he's tried reading about it, just lets the night go as it is... i guess.. but dear god he really did not hold back, as soon as you gave the go sin that he could go as rough as he wanted, bro wouldn't hesitate AT ALL. just wants to see you so full of his cum it hurts mfmfjfjfjfn. he's jerked off to this moment before too, and the way you just take all of him in, he loves ot so muchh! will breed you like crazy, no joke, even if you're a guy, bro will say he's gonna get you pregnant. anyways, he'll be soft and gentle w u in bed if you want, but if u ever say to go faster, good luck in that wheelchair next day ‼️‼️

blade?!? getting married?!? damn!! very rough, lowkey forgets about you when he's at his climax. but he didn't really plan for it, just let the night play out. oh i have to say this but silver wolf is the flowergirl, kafka is maid of honor, and nanook walks him down the aile. anyways, bro doesn't hesitate to just absolutely breed you, be honest cause i know this man wants kids. and you will have them, don't give a fuck if you a man, he will breed yo ass. licks up the excess seed that didn't, or couldn't fit in your hole that was already so full of his seed. thank you 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥‼️

jing yuan!! oo he is probably the same as gepard, will plan it out, but probably won't go to plan at all. and probably has read smutty books too, just in case. and wow that really helped because just as long as you ask bro to go faster, he will non stop breed you 'till you have like 3 generations of heirs for him. jokes aside, but he would breed you so bad. just needs to see your hole so full of him that it's too much, and won't fit anymore! probably makes you sit on his face once or thrice after all those rounds of pounding you too ;3

luocha.. hmm, if you think about it really hard, lowkey dislikes the idea of sex at the wedding night, but we do not think about it really hard, he does it anyway!! he is the type to know all your spots, all the right places to make you cream on his cock over and over again, cuz bro is a doctor. and would finger you like crazy while making out before the actual intimacy. bro is so careful with you like you are as fragile as glass. his kink is just your whole body. everything about you, your curves, your thighs, your neck, he wants everything, and thats why he'd do it on the wedding night of his!!!

for america i say for AMERICA!!!! (i dont live in the us anym)

🌼﹐✦﹒︿﹕TAGLiST: @skyl8ver @yamssxv @eve--011 @stygianoir @zomballs @roseclues @mystariouss @pryllee Sign up for my taglist and get updated for all my newest works!: CLICK HERE

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jiminrings · 2 months

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fail-safe (2)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.

alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: i am So sorry for this .

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

FIVE YEARS LATER

The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.

Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.

Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.

“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.

He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.

It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.

He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Neither could you.

Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.

Yoongi’s home.

Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.

Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.

Enduring is different than working.

You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.

You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.

There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.

Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.

In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.

The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.

It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.

Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.

Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.

Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.

“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”

“Yeah. Just us.”

Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.

Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

You’re numb if that’s the word for it.

Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.

Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.

Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.

You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.

Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.

“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.

Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.

“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.

He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.

“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.

Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.

You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.

To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.

The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.

You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.

Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.

“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.

“No, Joon. You give it.”

“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.

“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”

You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.

Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.

Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.

“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.

Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.

“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.

“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”

The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”

“This is not about the bug spray!”

“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”

Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”

You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.

“Don’t call me that.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.

He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.

You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.

You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.

Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.

It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.

“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.

“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.

“There. Just how you like them.”

There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.

Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.

( ♡ )

If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.

You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.

Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.

You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you’ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.

You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.

You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.

You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.

“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.

Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.

Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.

“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.

“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”

“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.

Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”

Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.

“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”

“You can stop telling me these things now.”

Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.

“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”

( ♡ )

Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.

You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.

For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.

He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.

Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.

You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.

“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”

You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.

“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”

“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.

“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.

“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.

“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.

Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”

A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.

“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.

“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.

The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.

“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.

Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.

“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.

(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)

You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.

In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.

You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.

“Okay.”

Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.

( ♡ )

A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.

You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.

When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.

And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.

Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.

If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.

The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.

“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.

You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.

“Abibas.”

Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.

“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”

Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.

Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.

The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.

“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.

“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.

“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”

You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.

“I never said that!”

You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.

“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.

“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.

Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.

“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.

“And you know, play for Korea.”

“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.

( ♡ )

On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.

The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.

You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.

You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”

“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”

“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”

“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.

“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.

“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”

“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.

Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”

Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.

Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.

You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.

In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.

“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.

Yoongi only hums.

“I know.”

( ♡ )

You’re falling back into your old routine.

Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.

Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.

It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.

You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.

Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.

“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.

“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.

You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.

“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.

“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.

“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.

It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.

Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.

Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.

Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.

#target audience im on my knees IM SO SO SORRY HOW R U FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 15 days

Text

Hey, all. I'm so sorry about the radio silence for the past few months, and I wanted to drop by real quick to give you all a little update. I'm afraid it's going to be pretty quiet around here for a while, and I've come back to a lot of worried messages so I wanted to keep you all in the loop.

I've recently had some pretty big family things going on - my grandma has been moved into hospice care. It's obviously taking up a lot of my time as I want to spend time with her, and my venom lab has been amazing about letting me pick up as many shifts as I want so I can have a little extra income to help my family with bills. I just don't have a lot of free time right now, and it'll probably stay that way for the immediate future.

I'm okay, and the snakes are all good. We celebrated Miriam's third birthday in February! This blog has always been so much fun to run, and I'm going to try to be back as soon as I can because this has always been such an amazing stress-relief to answer your questions and talk about snakes together. For now, though, the askbox is off (I just don't want things piling up too much while I'm gone), and I wouldn't expect to hear from me for a while.

Hoping to be back soon.

#blog update

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hotchs-big-hands · 2 months

Note

Ada my love you know that boyfriend ‘test’ of handing them your purse/handbag/bag when you go to the bathroom to see how they hold it? Yeah I need your take on our BAU men x that trend pls. Would they hold your purse?

AAAAAAAAA HELLO MY LOVE ROME ITS SO NICE TO SEE YOU IN THE ASKBOX 🥰🥰🥰🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖

gosh I LOVE this trend thing, it's cute. I'll ummmm do smth I've never done before and do some hcs for more than just ayayron, as requested 😳😳😳😳😳 gahdayum

What the different BAU men would do if asked to hold your bag/purse for you when you go the bathroom.

GN!reader|sfw

Aaron Hotchner

Okay so this man is like. The biggest gentleman ever of course. So when you approach him during a team night out with your bag he takes it without hesitation to your question.

"Of course, it's safe with me."

He is very protective of it, gripping onto it to his chest with one arm and hand whilst the other holds onto his drink as he sips periodically. He doesn't pay any mind when the others eye him curiously, and when you return he smiles slightly and holds out your bag to you.

"Here you go. Don't hesitate to ask me again as well, sweetheart."

He has to admit, he adores the delighted grin you offer in return when you thank him for holding your bag. And he's able to drown out the chuckles of the other members of the team because he's certain he probably looks like a lovesick puppy.

Derek Morgan

Derek raises his brow with a teasing grin as you ask him to hold your bag for you.

"Mind if I take a lil peek?" He jokes, chuckling when you babble at him not to look, panic flashing in your eyes. "Relax, sweets. I'm not gonna look."

Holds it under his muscular arm and stares down anyone who gives him a funny look. He's shameless, plus he's happy you trust him to take care of your stuff.

You return momentarily and look relieved to see him holding it protectively. He smiles and holds it out to you when you're close enough.

"There you go, sweets. Don't worry, I didn't look inside." He winks at you and you lightly shove him, pouting playfully. He loves teasing you.

Spencer Reid

Man's shook when you ask him of all people to hold your bag for a moment.

"Me? I-I mean of course I'll hold it!" He hates that his voice cracked but you don't seem to mind though, smiling sweetly and thanking him before you turn away and disappear to find the restroom.

He is holding onto the bag straps so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. No-one is getting hold of this bag, if it's the last thing he'll ever be sure of. Derek saunters over with a grin and chuckles as he points out how tight his grip is. But even as he feels heat rush to his cheeks, he dutifully holds on tight to your bag.

Your return makes him smile with relief, but he holds on tight to the bag even as you now come to stand face-to-face with him. You hold your hand out and ask for your bag back and he flushes. "R-right yeah, here!" He said quickly and holds the bag out, grip still strong until you take hold of it.

You giggle softly and thank him, and he grins awkwardly as he watches you turn away and head off elsewhere. It's only when he feels Derek's hand lightly land on his shoulder that he refocuses and embarrassment floods his senses. Hopefully, he'll be more confident in himself next time you ask him to hold your bag.

David Rossi

When you timidly approach Dave at the table he's seated at with Aaron and hold out your bag to him, he raises a brow at you when you ask him to hold your bag for you for a moment.

"Hm? You want me to take care of it for you? Of course, tesoro."

He places it on the table in front of him, not without smoothing his hands over the surface slightly because well, he is fond of you after all. Aaron huffs out a quiet snort, raising his brow with a grin at him. Dave shakes his head and waves him off.

You're quick to return with a shy smile, thanking him sweetly for keeping an eye on your bag. He picks up the bag and holds it out to you, making sure you've secured it before he drops his arm. "Anytime, tesoro. I'll look after it for you."

He winks at you and delights in your flustered movements, meeting his eye and as Aaron stands and gives him a pointed look, Dave pulls out a chair next to him and invites you to join him for the evening.

Lmao this was probably shit but I'm not too confident writing for other characters 😭😭 I hope people enjoyed tho regardless KSSKSK

#aaron hotchner x reader #derek morgan x reader #spencer reid x reader #david rossi x reader #a's writing #beloved rome 🥨💖#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction

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xechowritesx · 2 years

Text

made for lovin' you || e.m.

summary → after years of silently pining for your best friend, you finally accept a date at your favorite dive bar. but things never go as planned, do they? alternatively, jealous eddie, too many whiskey shots, and a friendship shattering, almost confession that leads to some delicious smut.

word count → 5.9K (yeah, yeah, i'm a wordy bitch, idk what to tell y'all).

warnings → insufferable pining (a real idiots to lovers), cursing, fucking in the back of eddie's van, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, please!), squirting, daddy kink.

extras → don't really have an excuse of this other than i'm entirely whipped by this man. as always, please give me some feedback! comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated and the askbox is open for requests!

“i literally have nothing to wear.” you protest, for what feels like the hundredth time, sighing heavily with disappointment.

still, you continue shuffling through your rather small selection of clothing, grimacing at the apparent lack of options whilst hoping something suitable will magically manifest itself.

“then don’t go.” eddie immediately suggests, half-chuckling. you brush his comment off with a roll of your eyes, trying instead to focus on putting together a semi-decent outfit.

to say that eddie had been uncharacteristically awkward lately was, in fact, the understatement of the century. the shift in his behavior had began shortly after you agreed to go on a date with none other that jason carver’s right hand man, andy.

from the moment you’d accepted the invitation, eddie had come up with an impressive amount of reasons as to why you had to cancel - it was dumb to start a relationship with graduation just around the corner, andy would undoubtedly try to take advantage of you, and maybe this was all just a mean prank concocted by jason and the entirety of the basketball team.

in turn, you’d done a pretty decent job refuting each and every one of his incessant pleas to bail, somehow managing to produce reasonable, well-thought out rebuttals. but a small fraction of your mind couldn’t help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive behind eddie’s seemingly legitimate concerns.

could it be that eddie was jealous? that the thought of you with another man frustrated him? just as quickly as you had begun to contemplate the idea, you shoved the thoughts to the back of your mind, rationalizing that he was simply being an overprotective best friend. besides, now was certainly not the time to contemplate your rather confusing relationship with eddie.

“oh my god!” you gasped excitedly, a face-splitting grin forming on your lips. you'd finally found your long-lost, favorite pair of leopard pants tossed just behind your laundry hamper.

“what happened?” eddie queried at your sudden excitement.

“i know what i’m gonna wear!” you giggled, collecting a few additional items from your closet. “i’ll be right back!” you added, hurriedly exiting your bedroom.

the trailer you shared with your mother was similar to eddie's and, arguably, far too small for the pair of you. the bathroom, of course, was no different. you shuffled into it sideways, leaning back to shut the door and making quick work of removing your clothes in the cramped space. as you shrugged out of the oversized metallica shirt that hung from your shoulders, you silently wondered where you’d acquired it from, though you were almost certain you’d stolen it from eddie the last time you'd helped him with his laundry.

you quickly slipped into your pants, before tugging on one of your all time favorite belts. you proceeded to squeeze into the only push-up bra you owned and slid into a cropped, black tank top. you took a moment, then, to touch up your makeup - you reapplied some powder, refreshed your black liner, and swiped on mascara. you ultimately decided on a deep, crimson red lipstick, applying it carefully onto your lips. satisfied with your appearance, you head back to your bedroom.

“well, what do ya think?” you ask, hands fidgeting behind your back.

eddie sits at the very edge of your unmade bed, leaning forward and resting his head between his hands. at the sound of your voice, he perks up and takes a moment to inspect your outfit.

his big, doe eyes somehow look larger than ever as he takes in your appearance, slowly raking over every curve and indent of your body. he notes that you’ve opted for an outfit that accentuates your curves, a noticeable shift from your usual repertoire of oversized band tees and hoodies.

you're clad a cropped, black AC/DC tank top that displays a considerable amount of cleavage and skin tight leopard pants that hug your hips and ass firmly. the ornate chain belt you’ve chosen draws attention to your snatched waist as well as your exposed midriff. eddie swallows thickly before meeting your eyes once again.

“you tryin’ to get laid tonight?” the question falls from his lips teasingly, as he effortlessly shifts back to his usual, flirty persona. “cuz you look good enough to eat.” he adds with a mischievous smirk.

“yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, munson.” you joke in response, actively choosing to ignore the butterflies that have formed in the pit of your stomach.

you watch as eddie pushes up onto his feet, easily towering over you as he closes the distance between you, substantially. you look up at him, swallowing back the faint desire to kiss him, silently wondering why you had agreed to this stupid date in the first place.

“i'm gonna give you a ride,” he doesn’t give you the opportunity to decline, “there’s no way i'm letting you get in a cab lookin’ this good.” he adds.

your relationship with eddie was confusing and nearly impossible to describe, especially in moments like these - caught somewhere between friendly teasing and aggressive flirting. in fact, it'd been this way for as long as you could remember. you definitely weren't dating nor were you lovers, but calling him just a friend felt utterly and completely insufficient.

neither of you ever really acknowledged or discussed the odd dynamic you shared, choosing instead to remain in an uncomfortable in-between; a perpetual game of "will they, won't they" that drove everyone that had the misfortune of being around you absolutely insane.

and, to be perfectly frank, that’s likely why you had accepted such a random date invitation. you were tired, exhausted even, of pining after eddie, year after year, to no avail. graduation was indeed just around the corner, and after giving eddie what felt like plenty of opportunities to make a move, you’d grown incredibly frustrated. you were convinced he did not reciprocate your feelings and that it was finally time to move on.

“whatever you say...” you wink, turning on your heel and heading toward the front door.

eddie watches as you shuffle through the living room, shrugging into a cropped leather jacket he’s sure belongs to your mother. he’s entirely mesmerized by the sway of your hips, inhaling sharply as you bend at the waist to slip into a pair of black platform boots. the position gives him a fantastic view of your ass, one that will no doubt remain etched in his memory for the weeks come. he coughs to shove down the heat that rises up his neck, cramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from reaching for you.

“ready?” you smile, looking back to find eddie already looking at you.

there’s an expression strewn across his features that you can’t quite decipher.

“uh, yeah, let’s go.”

the walk to eddie's trailer takes less than a minute, his beat-up van parked crookedly as always. you smile, happy not only to save yourself a cab fare but also to spend a little extra time with eddie. no doubt, his familiar and comforting presence will work to steady your ever increasing nerves.

you both slide into the van with practiced familiarity, a pleasant silence forming between you. as eddie pulls out of the trailer park, you’re already skimming through the expansive music selection nestled in the glove compartment. you easily find the mixtape you’re searching for, one you’d made for him on his birthday a few months ago, handing it over with a pretty please. though eddie’s eyes remain trained on the road ahead, he obliges, taking the tape and slotting it into the player.

the ride to downtown isn’t particularly long but eddie still manages to drag it out as much as he possibly can without drawing suspicion. he drives just under the speed limit, braking as soon as he spots a yellow light, and taking his time at every turn and speed bump. you're entirely unaware, focused instead on adjusting your hair, humming along to the music, and observing the passing scenery. eddie side-eyes you casually, enthralled by your beauty, struggling to formulate a single, believable excuse to turn the car around.

much to his dismay, eddie comes up with nothing, left with no choice but to pull into the dingy parking lot behind the hideout. it's a shitty little dive bar, favored by the older teens of hawkins for its lack of supervision. simply put, as long as you looked of age, ID checks were omitted all together. you had eagerly agreed to meet andy here for your date, the prospect of a couple free drinks and some dancing at your favorite bar enticing you.

as the engine comes to a stop, you realize you’re about fifteen minutes early. eddie hopes you'll wait with him in the car, giving him a few extra moments to come up with something to say. instead, he finds himself cursing internally as he watches you unbuckle and start exiting the van.

“thanks for the ride, munson!” you smile widely, an air of excitement radiating off you.

“anytime, princess.” eddie responds, matching your smile weakly. “keep an eye on your drinks. and be safe!” he urges.

“always am!” you remind him, giving him a small wave and making your way toward the bar’s entrance.

what little nerves you’d felt up to this point increase tenfold as you enter the hideout, hands suddenly clammy and hot. you look around to see if andy has arrived and, much to your relief, he has not. this gives you an opportunity to get yourself settled and pound a few drinks to calm your nerves.

you survey the seated bar area, opting to claim two seats at the very corner, with an excellent vantage point of the entire bar. lloyd, the sole bartender on friday evenings, approaches you with a gentle smile. he's middle aged and incredibly kind, happy to see a familiar face.

“why hello there, pretty lady.” he greets you, as he always does, placing two coasters onto the wooden bar. “i'm assuming you're waitin' for someone?” he adds, motioning to the empty stool you've positioned beside you.

you nod.

“i've got a date.” you explain, wiggling your brows excitedly. lloyd chuckles.

"well, i can't wait to meet the lucky fella.” he grins. “shall i get you the usual while you wait?”

"yes please!" you smile.

by the time lloyd asks if you want a refill, it’s 9:17 PM and andy still hasn't arrived.

and, while there’s slight pity in his tone, lloyd remains as sweet and attentive as ever. he reassures you that he’ll bring you as many refills as you’d like and even goes as far as to offer you a plate of nachos, free of charge. you politely decline, rationalizing to yourself that basketball practice probably ran late and that andy would arrive at any moment. after all, he was only running seventeen minutes behind. and though lloyd nods in agreement, you can’t help the total humiliation you feel.

each minute feels god damn near eternal, ticking by slowly and tauntingly. your nerves and excitement steadily morph into a sinking feeling that you’ve been stood up.

it had all felt too good to be true - a conventionally attractive jock asking you out, whilst you were clad in a hellfire club t-shirt and sat next to the recently acquitted murder suspect and town pariah, eddie munson, who you happened to call your best friend.

still, you had agreed to the date, undoubtedly encouraged to do so both by your high consumption of cheesy rom-coms and the burning desire to finally get over eddie. your thoughts spiral, uncontrollably, as you remember how hard eddie had tried to dissuade from this date. you realize, suddenly, he’d been trying to protect you from precisely this outcome.

by 9:32 PM, you shamefully begin collecting your belongings and tossing some cash onto the bar, when you’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“sorry i’m late, sweetheart.” eddie makes a big show of apologizing, his voice loud enough for everyone in a considerable distance from you to hear.

actually, you’re sure the entire bar hears.

“eddie…” though you're surprised by his sudden appearance, you can’t help the smile of relief that moves across your lips as you look up to meet his eyes. you take him in, fully, noticing he’s shed his earlier casual look for one that’s a little more dressed up.

he's clad in a deep burgundy button up, which remains undone dangerously low, revealing much of his pale, tattooed chest. it's tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans that cling to him in all the right ways. he's topped off the look with his usual worn out leather jacket, matching black leather boots, and his signature silver rings. you finally manage to tear your gaze away from his body and meet his eyes.

“like what you see?” he teases, with a wiggle of his brows as he slides into the stool beside yours. he casually wraps his arm around the back of your stool and you unconsciously lean into him, happy to feel the warmth radiating from his frame.

“you know i do.” you manage to tease back, licking your lips as you speak. “will do a shot with me?” you add, looking up at him through your lashes. you do your best to look adorable, pouting your lip in the way you always do when you want something.

“whatever ya want, princess.” eddie is smiling, radiantly, and calling over lloyd.

one shot turns into several. you find yourself happily wrapped in eddie’s arms, swaying rhythmically on the makeshift dance floor in the center of the bar.

eddie's massive hands are warm on your waist, guiding you with ease to the beat that reverberates from the massive speakers. in turn, your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. while you’re certainly not drunk, there’s a noticeable, warm buzz thrumming through your body, one that’s gently dulled the ache of having been stood up. though, you suppose that eddie also had something to do with it.

“how’d ya know i got stood up?” you ask curiously, realizing that eddie had arrived out of the blue, with near impeccable timing.

“what do you mean?” he looks down at you with confusion. you roll your eyes.

“you showed up without me calling,” you explain, “so i’m wondering how you knew andy never showed."

“ah,” eddie pauses, he hesitates, briefly, “i actually had no idea you’d been stood up.” your curiosity quickly turns to confusion.

“then why did you show up?”

there’s a brief, noticeable lull in the conversation as eddie quietly contemplates his response. you feel him tug you closer, his gaze meeting yours almost sheepishly.

“i was fully intending on crashing your date.” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. “had a whole speech and everything.”

“you were gonna crash my date?” your mind is suddenly racing, heart beating faster and faster with each word. “why?”

eddie sighs heavily, wondering how you could be so impossibly oblivious. what little courage he’d managed to muster up until this point begins to leave his body, abruptly so. he stops swaying, stilling the both of you. his hands remain firmly on your waist as his bottom lip tugs between his teeth.

“don’t make me say it.” eddie pleas, softly, eyes wide and affectionate. “you know why.” he tries, leaning impossibly closer, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

his eyes remain trained on yours, a faint smile across his features as he lovingly watches the gears turning in your mind.

oh.

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, knocking the very air out of your lungs. it happening. it's finally, fucking happening.

eddie doesn't give you much time to contemplate or process what he's essentially almost confessed, instead, he's pressing his lips tentatively against your own. his movements are gentle and unsure, almost as if he's testing the limits. but his lips, god, his lips - they're soft and plush, yet still firm as they press into yours.

you hesitate, only momentarily, as your brain short-circuits. all the while, eddie's grinning against your lips, using your surprise to his advantage. he takes the lead, with confident ease, using the opportunity to find his way past your lips. his tongue is warm as it teasingly drags against yours, his slender fingers pressing and exploring the exposed skin of your midriff.

you're breathless, trying to keep up with eddie, using your hands to find purchase in his frizzy, messy curls. eddie grunts as you tug, delving into your mouth with such fervor it's as if you're the very source of oxygen keeping him alive. a low moan escapes you as his hands move to your ass, only to be interrupted by lloyd's disgruntled voice.

"ay! ay! lovebirds!" lloyd shouts, instantly catching your attention. you break apart, managing to steal a glance at eddie as you do - he's all smiles and sparkling eyes. meanwhile, you can feel yourself turning several shades of cartoonish red that feel humanly impossible.

"yeah?" eddie chuckles, nervously shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. he keeps an arm around your waist, holding you to his side.

"as happy as i am to finally see you two together," lloyd confesses fondly, motioning between you, "let's keep it family friendly, yeah?"

you snort, left hand shooting up to your mouth in a vain attempt to hold back your laughter. eddie's just as giddy, a ball of energy, practically vibrating beside you, waiting to explode.

"my bad, lloyd!" you try, offering him the most innocent smile you can manage. eddie watches you with nothing but adoration as you wave a hand apologetically in lloyd's direction.

"yeah, we were just about to head out, actually." eddie announces, smiling like a bumbling idiot. he's quick to take your hand, intertwining your fingers effortlessly, as he guides you toward the bar.

without so much as another word, eddie is tossing several bills down onto the bar and gathering your belongings. you follow suit, mindlessly so, entirely enthralled by his presence. even now, as he's half-rushing you out the door, eyes as wild as his hair, there's a radiance about him that sends butterflies bursting through your stomach.

"slow down!" you giggle, half-stumbling over your feet as you trail behind eddie. he's eagerly making a beeline for the van, turning back and smiling at you in a way that makes it impossible to be mad at him.

"slow down?" eddie repeats in disbelief, as if you've just asked him the most ridiculous question he's ever heard. "i've been wanting to kiss you for as long as i can remember, y/n," he confesses, nearly out of breath, "gonna need more."

for a second time that evening, eddie's words have left you completely and utterly speechless. he ushers you carefully into the back of his van, shutting the doors behind himself, and climbing over your form. you fall back onto a disarray of discarded clothing and blankets strewn about, leaning back onto your elbows to really look at him. he hovers, briefly, almost as if awaiting permission.

"think i've been waiting just as long, eddie." you admit, like a blushing school girl.

eddie's smiling as you're speaking, chuckling before he's closing the space between you. his movements are deliberate, now, as he presses against you in a bruising kiss that sends electricity shooting through both your bodies. it's all tongue and teeth, with clumsy hands eagerly exploring new territory. your legs wrap around his waist as he slots himself between them, his mouth moving past your lips. he kisses your skin as he descends down the line of your jaw and settles at the crook of your neck.

the sounds that leave your mouth are sinful, shit, they're down right poronographic, and eddie can't get enough. he attaches himself to your neck, sucking, nibbling, and marking your skin with love bites and bruises. your nails dig into his shoulder blades and he can't help but rut himself against you, his erection growing with each moan and whimper he's able to draw from your lips.

"eddie..." you're gasping for breath, completely and unabashedly wrecked.

if it were anyone else, you'd be ashamed of how desperate you sound. but it's you, and it's eddie, and it's years of pinning and wishing and hoping finally coming to fruition.

"don't worry, i gotcha, princess." eddie promises against your abused skin, making his way back up to your lips.

eddie kisses you with a sense of urgency that has you absolutely buzzing, your body arching up into his, begging for more. he steadies you with shaky hands, his movements revealing he's just as desperate as you feel. his chest is rising and falling rapidly with ragged breaths, his warm, inviting pupils blown wide with lust.

every touch, every kiss, every sensation is far better than any dream or fantasy your imagination has concocted over the years. and by the way eddie's erection remains firmly pressed into your inner thigh, you know the sentiment is mutual. he unexpectedly pulls back, fully separating your bodies, and taking a brief moment to commit you to memory. he sits back on his heels, frantically pushing the hair out of his eyes to carefully observe you.

you're a complete mess - red lipstick and runny mascara smeared across your skin, lips swollen and wet from kissing. your hair is sprawled around you, like a makeshift crown of sorts, chest heaving with broken breathing. eddie decides, then and there, that you are the most beautiful person he has ever had the privilege of knowing.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you're hyper-aware of his gaze, the way his eyes move up and down your body.

"because i'm so fucking in love with you." eddie concedes, with a playful chuckle and goofy grin across his lips. you're positive your heart finally bursts at his words, a face-splitting grin moves across your lips.

"do remember freshman year, when i confessed i liked the beatles and you learned hey jude because it was my favorite song?" your question catches him entirely off-guard, yet he nods, remembering all too well. "that's when i knew i was in love with you. still am. not sure why i agreed to this date." you ramble, hiding your face behind your hands.

eddie is quick to remove them, pecking kisses across your cheeks, down your nose, and onto your lips. these kisses are different than before, playful and immature. he's smiling as he continues the attack on your face, eyes gleaming in a way you'd never seen before.

"this isn't ideal," eddie hesitates, nervous and unsure. "we're in the back of my shitty van, it smells like weed and my dirty laundry, and we've been sucking face like horny teenagers." he pauses, briefly, as you both laugh. "but i mean it, y/n." he struggles to repeat his earlier confession, but quickly realizes he doesn't have to. not when you're smiling up at him, nodding with a knowing expression.

"i know, eds." you reassure him, reaching up to caress his face in an affectionate gesture. he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "but if you don't fuck me soon, i'm gonna think you're lying and ask andy out on a second date." you add, playful as ever.

"jesus fucking christ, y/n!" eddie's grunting and laughing, already leaning into you. "you're gonna be the death of me."

you watch, eagerly and without protest, as eddie positions himself comfortably between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands find you like pulling magnets, holding you tightly and tugging you into him as he finally reunites your lips.

you both move frantically, now, having finally acknowledged the unspoken feelings between you. and eddie becomes a man possessed, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and asserting dominance with ease. he begins dry humping you in earnest, his thrusts matching the rhythm of lips.

"eddie," you moan, "please." your hands tug at his shirt as you grind your hips up to meet each of his thrusts.

it's entirely embarrassing to contemplate, but you're absolutely soaked, cunt clenching around nothing as you move in perfect tandem with eddie, chasing the pleasure that begins to invade your senses.

"please, what?" he hums against your lips, expertly guiding your movements.

despite the layers of clothing separating you, eddie's cock somehow manages to catch your clit with each thrust. your head involuntarily lulls back, eyes fluttering closed as eddie gradually increases the speed of his thrusts.

"tell me what you need, baby girl." he instructs, watching hungrily as your expression contorts in pleasure. the sounds and expressions you make are so much better than anything he's ever imagined and he hasn't even made you cum yet.

"please..." you repeat, again and again, like a broken prayer, unable to form a coherent response. you figure he'll understand, leaning forward to find his lips.

instead, eddie quickly and harshly tugs you back by the hair, looking down at you with a dimpled smirk that sends waves of anticipation and arousal coursing through your frame.

"use your words, princess." eddie tuts, licking his lips as he halts his movements all together.

you whine as he holds you in place, entirely still, audibly protesting as he hovers above you. the sudden lack of contact is unbearably sobering and you find yourself trying to grind back up into him. he only chuckles, holding you in place with ease, watching you expectantly. his hands are firm against your waist, powerful even, and you're positive you'll have marks in the morning. the thought thrills you.

"no more until you use your words, pretty girl." eddie insists. "you gotta tell me what you need."

"need you to touch me." you're gasping as you speak, struggling against eddie's unrelenting grip. he smirks. "need you to fuck me, eds."

the way you say his name, so fucking wrecked, the way you look up at him, with lust-blown eyes, it's all too much.

finally, and much to your relief, eddies relents and resumes kissing you. he shifts his attention, however, nestling himself between your legs and kissing his way down your body. you're practically writhing beneath him, hands carding through his curls, trying to gain purchase.

"eds, baby, please." you whine as his mouth latches onto the skin just beside your navel, sucking and biting hungrily. his nimble fingers make quick work of your chain belt, finding the waistband of your pants and tugging impatiently.

"up." eddie grunts, tapping your hips. you oblige, leaning back onto your shoulder blades so that he can remove your pants. "are you fucking kidding me?" eddie groans in lustful disbelief at realization that you're not wearing any panties. he very nearly creams himself as he rips the leopard pants off your body and tosses the offending material aside with little care.

before you can fully comprehend what's happening, eddie is alternating between kissing your inner thighs and dragging his tongue slowly over your heated skin. you're jerking at the sensation, tugging his hair impatiently, trying to keep what little of your sanity you have left.

"oh my god..." you breathe, brokenly, as eddie presses his thumb experimentally against your clit. he circles the bundle of nerves slowly, mouth still working up and down your thighs, as he sets an unforgiving pace.

"can i taste you?" he looks up at you with those big doe eyes, licking his lips in what can only be described as hunger. you're nodding, furiously, because you don't trust your voice.

eddie finally dips down and laps at your folds, tongue hot and heavy as it teases your hole. he showers you with affection, kissing and sucking every inch of your pussy as his index finger pushes into you. he finally wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the nub deliciously, and pushes a second finger into you.

you're sliding your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots, knees buckling as you grow weaker with each of his movements. he reads you like a book, alternating between lapping at your hole and sucking your clit, curling and scissoring his fingers expertly inside you, pushing you steadily toward orgasm. you're so incredibly worked up you're practically vibrating around his fingers, walls clenching and contracting.

eddie's fingers are dragging inside you, pushing and pulling all at once, steadily firm with pressure. he bends and pushes them down just right, working tirelessly to help you climax. in turn, you've lost all sense of your surroundings, repeating his name like mantra, over and over, nearly choking.

"eddie, eds, i'm so close..." you manage, tears brimming your eyes as your stomach tightens with familiar pressure.

eddie doesn't back off, no, instead, he's increasing his pace. his swollen lips drag over your folds as he alternates between wrapping himself around your clit and showing love to your entrance. you're hips move of their own accord, riding his tongue, thighs wrapping tightly around his head.

you climax, screaming eddie's name loud enough to wake the dead. his hands on your waist are the only thing grounding you in reality, a firm reminder this isn't all some incredibly vivid daydream. your body is limp and entirely overwhelmed, head rolling back and eyes fluttering closed. eddie watches your thighs, still shaking, as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm.

"god fucking damn it," you chuckle, "that was the best orgasm of my life." eddie smirks, entirely satisfied with how thoroughly he's made you fall apart.

"best orgasm of your life?" eddie repeats, chin and mouth glistening with a mixture of your arousal and climax. he's never looked hotter.

you reach out for eddie, despite the exhaustion you feel, palming his erection through the fabric of his jeans. you're applying just the right amount of pressure to the underside of his cock and eddie's twitching, rutting and thrusting against your hand, taking any relief he can get from you.

"still need you to fuck me, eds." you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

there's a shift in the atmosphere, the air thick with anticipation.

eddie's nodding mindlessly, hands fumbling awkwardly with his belt and jeans. you giggle as you help him, tugging the material and aiding him as he kicks off his boots, followed by his jeans, and briefs. a small gasp falls form your lips at the sight of eddie's unclothed cock, long and hard, slightly curved to the left.

"you ready for me, baby girl?" eddie smiles down at you, gently. you're absolutely beaming in post-orgasm glow, nodding eagerly.

eddie leans down and finds you lips yet again, taking you in a gentle and passionate kiss. as his tongue explores your mouth, he drags the head of his dick up and down your soaking folds, collecting as much slick as he can before he's pushing against your entrance. you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him as close as you can, legs wrapping around his waist.

a guttural moan leaves the both of you as eddie begins sliding into you, his thick, hard length dragging deliciously deeper and deeper into you. despite your previous climax, your walls still struggle to take him in, stretching to accept his impressive size.

"god, you feel so fucking good." eddie emphasizes, his voice almost unrecognizable, deep and destroyed. he stills himself, once he's at the hilt, giving your body an opportunity to adjust.

you're grateful for the reprieve he offers you, shakily breathing through the dull pain, inhaling and exhaling as your body gets used to the feeling of eddie inside you. he's buried himself in the crook of your neck, cursing against your skin, throbbing inside you.

"you okay, y/n?" eddie asks, you grind your hips up in response.

"eddie, move, please."

eddie, ever the gentleman, obliges, setting a slow, passionate pace. his thrusts are gentle and loving, every inch of his cock deliberate and calculated. and while his pace is slow, it's powerful nonetheless. the finesse of his hips has you moaning, creating tight knots in the pit of your stomach once more.

"faster, need you to move faster." you beg, chasing the feeling of pleasure that crashes through you.

"i gotcha, y/n, i gotcha." eddie hums, increasing both the speed and force of his thrusts.

the van shakes at eddie's sheer force, the windows fogged, air humid. his hips are relentless, the sound of your slick folds and his balls slapping against your cunt intermingling and resounding loudly all around you. your body reacts favorably to the new pace, convulsing with sheer ecstasy. eddie's grunting and cursing as your pussy sucks him in, swallowing him whole with each thrust and contracting around him. he's driving you back with each thrust, the top of your head making repeated contact with the center console between the driver and passenger seats.

"i'm getting close..." you moan, nails digging into eddie's shoulder blades.

"don't cum until i fucking tell you," eddie commands, finding your gaze, "wait for daddy."

that word, so filthy and dirty, falling from eddie's swollen, bruised lips, as he's balls deep inside you, sends you into overdrive. you're silently talking yourself down, gripping onto eddie, forcefully trying to keep yourself from climaxing. eddie, in turn, only grows more unhinged, chasing his own high, hitching your right leg onto his left shoulder.

"almost there, baby girl, i'm close." eddie reassures you between grunts and there's tears streaming down your face.

"need to cum, daddy, please." you're sobbing now, voice ragged and hoarse.

eddie can feel you shaking against him, body contorting, desperate to feel release. you're arching up against him, harder with each thrust, tits pressing deliciously into his chest. he slots a hand between your bodies, finding your clit with ease and swirling his thumb sinfully against it.

"cum for me, y/n." eddie finally allows, thrusts growing sloppier and infinitely more primal. "say my name."

"eddie!" you're screaming, like a goddamn banshee as your climax hits. you tighten and clamp down around eddie's cock, squirting your release all over yourself and eddie.

"fuck...." the feeling is unlike anything eddie has ever experienced and it shocks him to the core. his thrusts stutter, momentarily, before he's spilling into you, hot, white cum filling you deliciously. he rides out his orgasm, worsening your sensitivity, watching you in disbelief as he finally stills his hips.

"that was..." you try, eddie pecking your lips lovingly.

"that was definitely the best orgasm of your life." he chuckles, smirking. "and mine."

before you get an opportunity to respond, the back door of the van is being tugged open and eddie is scrambling to cover your exposed body.

"freak, have you seen-" you scream with surprise, eyes widening at the sight of a horrified andy looking on. "what the fuck, y/n?" andy's shouting now, too, covering his eyes as he swings shut and slams the van door.

you look up at eddie and you're both bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, cheeks red with a mixture of embarrassment and post-coital exertion. you cannot believe that andy actually showed up, nearly an hour and half late, to find you naked and tangled between eddie's legs.

"should i chase after him and ask him for a second date?" you joke, gently pushing back a few stray curls from eddie's eyes.

"yeah right," eddie bites back, grinning, "as if i'd share my girl with that jackass."

eddie falls, entirely spent, beside you, tugging you into his chest and wrapping an arm protectively around your shoulders. you, in turn, wrap an arm around his waist and lay on his chest, craning your neck to look up at him.

"your girl?"

"yeah," eddie is beaming, "my girl."

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #reader insert #smut #got a little carried away with this one lol #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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racinggirl · 2 months

Note

i’m hunting your ask box at this point but i can’t really regret it, your writing is a masterpiece each and every time 🎉

today’s thoughts : smau where y/n and charles always ‘argue’ and make comments against each other on socials, leading people to think they actually hate each other (they’re actually best friends and lovers in secret, and sit together giggling as they tweet stupid shit about each other) they admit the truth with a post of them on a date with the caption “… enemies to lovers?”

the grid know they’re good friends but not that they’re going out until the posts, lando would definitely be like “yep i knew it i called it” when he really did not

lots of love!! <3

yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 73,710 others

An iced coffee a day... (only it's just frappuccino without coffee bc I don't like coffee) 🧋

view all 9,264 comments

user8 you're so real for this, queen

charles_leclerc someone needs to teach Y/N that frappuccino's are just coffee's sugary sidekick

yourusername sorry Charles, I prefer my beverages without a side of bitterness. user2 Am I the only one that feels like Charles and Y/N don't like each other this much? user10 Nope. user1 They hate each other lol

charles_leclerc

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 1,402,618 others

Let the season begin 🏎️ ❤️

view all 62,720 comments

yourusername goodluck, you'll need it 😚

charles_leclerc thanks, good to see you're unable to stay away from my posts 😉 yourusername someone should keep an eye on the chaos you bring to my feed. It's a public service, really. charles_leclerc a public service? I should be charging admission for the entertainment I provide 😘 user7 okay they are UNHINGED

yourusername

liked by user2, user7, user8 and 92,610 others

is it giving 'that girl' vibes? ✨

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user4 YES IT IS 😍

charles_leclerc you're such a StarBucks addict 🧋

yourusername says the guy that's addicted to having a cup of espresso every morning

user10 wait, how does she know? user6 OMG what if they are dating? user2 lmao, they hate each other, I doubt they are willingly hanging out together

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, user2, arthur_leclerc and 104,175 others

no cap needed 🌎 ✈️

view all 9,610 comments

user1 liked by Charles AND Arthur? I thought they hated each other?

user3 Why do I feel like we're gonna get mind fucked, they are playing a game and we're all losing 😶

user9 I'm obsessed, girl you're living our dream 😩

user5 where are you going???

yourusername 🇯🇵 ❤️ user6 THE JAPAN GP? OMG

user2 hold up, no Charles x Y/N banter in the comments?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, scuderiaferrari and 126,710 others

@charles_leclerc have to admit, I would make a pretty good WAG 💋

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user9 OMG OMG OMG OMG

user6 WHAT IS HAPPENING OH MY LORD

charles_leclerc if only you would choose F1 over soccer 😘

yourusername I'll come back to you about that in a week

one week later

yourusername & charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, f1 and 2,516,470 others

Enemies to lovers?...

Took you a while to figure that out, happy 2 years baby ❤️

view all 74,571 comments

charles_leclerc I love you ❤️

yourusername I love you more ❤️ ❤️

landonorris yep, I knew it, called it

charles_leclerc no you did not, you tried to hit on her 😂 yourusername you could learn something from his flirting skills tho, at least Lando didn't ask me if 'falling down from heaven hurt' 💀 charles_leclerc It worked though, didn't it 😉

user1 TWO YEARS ALREADY?

user7 that sixth picture though 😩 ❤️

user8 I want what they have 😍

a/n: thank you for sending in the request sweety! It really means a lot! Hopefully you’ve enjoyed it! As I mentioned before, I will have a small break. I’ve got 3 requests in my askbox atm, but if you have an idea for a story, don’t hesitate to hunt my askbox again and send it in. I’m not 100% sure when I’ll be back exactly, but it shouldn’t be too long. Lots of love 💗

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planete777 · 3 months

Text

꒰ BABY BOY .:. LN4 ꒱

(lando norris x fem!reader)

IN WHICH. y/n knows how to treat her boy; lando loves it all.

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, sub!lando x softdom!reader, unprotected p in v, riding, bondage, use of blindfold, choking, slight dumbification, lactation kink, pre-consented overstimulation, praise kink, lando just gets treated right!!!

NOTE. reverse reverse!! guess who's domming this time 🙈 after my friend said that lando looked like someone i would dom (fact), i've been planning on writing something pretty self indulgent like this. and after the whole discussion about his boob/lactation kink... yh i'm going wild!! im a tad bit sick rn so it might not be as good as usual, butttt i hope you enjoy it 🤭

credit to @bangssefi for the dividers.

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu @multifandomwhore-003 @nzygftoji (use askbox if you'd like to be added!)

"you okay, baby?"

y/n shifts to settle her hips just mildly off lando's crotch. she sees how his fingers twitch, writhing to rest on her waist, yet they've got a smooth red ribbon cascading and meandering upon the soft skin, binding both hands to the head board.

he whimpers, lip caught between his teeth, but nods. the cloth around his eyes slide up, minutely, and a gentle hand pulls it back down again.

"that's good," y/n smiles, although lando's blind to it, "you remember what we talked about?"

lando takes a while to reply, breaths in rapid succession, "yeah."

y/n wishes he can see her, but all she can do is let her touch bleed enough reassurance into his flushed skin, cupping his cheek, "baby, you're good, i promise... unless you want us to stop."

"no! please i— i'm just really horny. keep going i'm begging you," lando's words leave in an almost-sob, hands finding their way to clench around each other and his legs bending upwards. his girlfriend soothes him again, hot body gluing to his own and pillowy lips pushing into the skin of his forehead. he doesn't realise how much he needed it, his body untangling every tense knot embedded in his muscles, and he's relaxing into the sheets.

"ready, baby?"

lando replies with a whorish mixture of a moan and whine, hearing the dull snap of his girlfriend's bra clasp being unhooked. his mouth puddles with saliva, toes curling as his hands begin to tremble. his brain feels chopped to pieces and blended, giving him some sort of a hazy euphoria.

"open your mouth, lan'," there's a warm hand gently, but firmly, gripping his chin, and he's dropping his jaw, tongue stuck out like a slab of meat.

y/n's pushing the tit into his mouth and fuck, he has to clench his fists to not cum right there and then. it's so warm and heavy, his tongue coming to flick at the swollen nipple, and y/n's moaning so thickly, lando's cock plumps up even more than he thought it could.

"good boy," she sighs, eyes closed in veiling pleasure, "look at you, lando."

she's hitting right where it sends him crazy, it's pulling out a dirty whine, mouth sloppily moving against her nipple and then she's squeezing her breast.

the milk is so sweet, and so good, lando doesn't think he could get through it without crying. he's lapping messily, some of it trickling down his chin, and y/n wishes she could paint the picture behind her eyelids forever.

"fuck, you're so beautiful, baby boy, you're making me feel so good," her mouth just tumbles away, barely thinking as the pleasure seeps down to her weeping pussy, and the unexpected endearment has lando moaning loudly, mouth falling open, making the milk drip into the crease of his neck.

"y/n, please, fuck me," his voice is strained and broken, like it's been completely char grilled, and his girlfriend moves downwards to lick her tongue into his mouth. it's a rather soft, heated makeout, y/n licking, and biting and soothing as she goes. her breasts are welding into his chest, leaking milk into his skin and the sheet, and he feels so filthily good.

a hand grips his cock, tight and assertive, and he's choking and bucking his hips, whimpering at the sweet relief that washes from the pleasure.

"oh fuckkk."

his legs are quivering, his fingers dig half moons into his palms and his vision is so dark and concealing that every touch feels like a thousand zaps of electricity. y/n's strokes, just teasingly, and his legs are shaking, mouth slack open and unyielding.

there's no warning when y/n sits upright and drags her cunt over his dick like a tight, hot, plush cock ring. she's groaning and clenching when lando let's out a sound he's never heard from himself before. it's a scream borderline wail, and he's so fucking close to cumming, he tried to think of something else to flatten the knot.

"y/n, shit, you feel so good," his eyes are watering, catching the cloth around his head, and he's drooling before he's even property fucked.

his girlfriend grinds, caressing his face with a touch as light as feather, "so do you, baby boy. making me feel so so good, i love you."

his heart is swelling, and he's going to return the endearment when there's a slam of hips against his own and he's gasping, eyes flying open behind the blindfold. there's a litany of sounds that escape him, he can't even place what they are, but they all melt into sobs and moans as y/n's hips speed up.

his arms are so strained, he can barely feel them, and all he can is the repeating weighted drop of of his girlfriend, the slick grinds of her pussy against his crotch and the suffocating grip of her cunt around his cock, milking it for all it has.

"god, lando, your cock," she sounds so gone and slutted out, he's speechless, "you're so amazing for me."

the praise is too much. she's unrelenting with it all, the words, the riding, the love, that he's cumminh with no warning, spurting hot stickiness deep into her pussy.

"fuck fuck fuck, y-y/n— oh shit!"

there's a visceral tremble through his flesh, and he's so sensitive everywhere, he must be on fire. but y/n's not stopping.

her hips are eager and hungry on his cock, and after a while, lando stops bucking up his hips to meet her thrusts because he's tingly all round and all he can do is cry.

"you can give me one more, baby, can't you?"

he hears it, trust he does, but his throat feels grated, and he has no control over his brain. it's all milky and cloudy up there, and as his girlfriend continues to hop on his cock, the more hazy everything becomes.

he fucking loves it.

"can't speak baby boy?"

it's slighting taunting, but endeared nonetheless. she slows down, palms raking his chest, pulling at his nipples and then she's pressing a hand into his throat and squeezing.

they'd discussed it before, agreed that they'd both like to try it out with boundaries set, but fucking hell, lando never expected it to feel this good. his eyes are rolling behind his head and he's nodding, high pitched moans being pulled from his throat.

and then she's moving again, bouncing and slapping her hips, and what can lando do but indulge and let her? his cock is so hard again, it's nearly painful, and his face is so wet and clammy with tears.

"come on, baby, cum for me," y/n's moaning out, another hand flicking at his nipple as her fingers press further into his neck.

it's not on his own accord that he's cumming, semen dribbling pathetically into the plush walls, and he's feeling y/n tighten around him.

she's about to cum, but instead of feeling the warm wetness trickle down his dick, y/n is telling him to open his mouth, and a half-assed aim of milk sprays onto his face, narrowly missing his mouth.

he licks at whatever he gets, face wet and so fucking ruined, before she's properly cumming, body tense and juices flowing.

"yes, baby, just like that— hmm."

she's riding it out before stopping, leaning forward to press kisses into his wet skin.

"how are you feeling, baby?"

there's no words to describe it. he just says whatever comes to mind.

"i wanna see you, please."

there's a soft laugh, "i'm taking that as a 'i feel fucking great'."

lando grins at that, tiredly, as he nods, just as fingers nimbly untie the cloth around him. he blinks, acclimatising his vision, before seeing y/n, fucked out and glorious, before him.

"you're so beautiful, y/n," he sighs, watching as y/n leans forward, tits in his face, to detangle the silk around his wrists. his visions zeroes in on them, and pushes forward to give each one a kiss.

"that's all you, baby boy," she's sitting upright again, and he immediately wraps his hands around her waist, "all you."

#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.writes: ln4 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 fic #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1

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paper-mario-wiki · 6 months

Note

and also if ssniperwolf doxxing is such a Bad Thing. Why hasnt there been a police report about it? Jacksfilms is a white man who owns a house, its not like the police arent gonna believe him.

but i guess its easier to just shit on women the moment they do something bad. 🤷‍♀️

got this and one other ask from this person, and im definitely not posting all that shit.

im a pretty firm believer in the "just let girls live" philosophy, but nah sssniperwolf is a bad person who is actively causing harm. sssniperwolf is SIGNIFICANTLY larger than jacksfilms, each of her daily uploads getting millions of views. YouTube constantly promotes her channel on twitter because she makes them a shitton of money, and her content is made ENTIRELY of stolen videos. She sometimes doesn't react, she just steals content. She refuses to even give a single piece of credit. It's not that she's a reaction channel, it's that she is unethical and getting rich anyway.

And Jacksfilms FAMOUSLY has been ripping on reaction channels since the fucking RayWilliamJohnson days. This is like, one of his things. He is part of OLD YouTube, and is a huge proponent of defending the rights of small creators and encouraging original content. The channel he has about this, jjjacksfilms, credits every creator they can find that she doesnt, and also gets in touch with some of the creators, all of which have reported never being contacted before her stealing their videos.

Sssniperwolf, despite being a woman, is fallible. Don't come into my askbox defending her from this, frankly, extremely manageable backlash she is getting. It started with asking her to simply look at the names of the people whose videos she was stealing and putting them in her video. Crediting them. And she has not only been aware of this the entire time, but she's been actively and publicly mocking Jack. It is getting out of hand because she STILL refuses to do this extremely simple, reasonable thing. Something that, one might even say, she is obligated to do.

Also, doxxing is a bad thing even if it isn't illegal (which it is). It's a threat. Showing someones home online is a deliberate tactic to make someone feel as though they are vulnerable and powerless. What about that is not a Bad Thing? Dunce.

I'm sorry to tell you this anon. But women are capable of being bad people too.

#anon #dont come into my askbox calling me wrong #just unfollow me and then bounce #cuz this is a pretty open and shut case and theres really nothing more to say on it

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borderlinereminders · 8 months

Text

Friendly reminder that no one can give 100% all the time in a relationship. It is normal to fluctuate. Things will not always be 50/50. In fact, it’s rare they will be.

Sometimes, my depression is really bad and I’m only able to give 20%. My partner steps up and gives a bit more. Sometimes he’s have an exceptionally bad week at work, and I need to step up a bit.

This becomes a problem if it’s always one person giving all the effort. But it is absolutely normal for things to fluctuate and not be even all the time.

Sometimes both my partner and I can only give 40%. In those situations, we sit down and come up with possible compromises, a game plan and check in with each other when we can.

I bring this up in response to asks in my askbox about my “can you love me harder today?” post where they say that your loved ones should always love you as hard as possible. And it’s not realistic.

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showf4lls · 4 months

Text

ɞ ― make a home in you; chuckle sandwich

cw + info! fluff, headcanons / no CWs

includes! ted nivison + charlie slimecicle + jschlatt

dedication! @ivyinnit

notes! i’m currently trying to get over a breakup and am kind of struggling w yearning atmo so this request (while old) was kind of perfect thank you for dropping into my askbox, ivy!! little update: it’s been so long since i’ve received this request, i know. it should’ve been easy to get it out quickly, but school absolutely melted me this semester. i know that ivy’s deactivated now, but in the case that she comes across it, i hope you enjoy beloved <3

TED

⎼ y’all schedule out laundry days together. it’s cute as fuck okok

⎼ forehead and cheek kisses while you’re on your way out the door

⎼ if he wakes up before you, he makes your morning drink of choice just the way you like it! though, he prefers to sleep in with you

⎼ if you don’t have any important plans for the day and you’ve set alarms just for the sake of waking up at a certain time, he turns them all off before you wake up. he wants to give you an opportunity to rest as much as you need to; your body will wake up when it’s ready

⎼ brunch dates! while you guys prefer to sleep in together, you alternate between sleeping in and waking up at a reasonable hour depending on your plans. ted really likes taking you out to brunch and just walking around window shopping with you after

⎼ if either of you are going somewhere important, the other will help them get ready and run through a mental checklist with them before they go in order to make sure the person leaving has absolutely everything they need

⎼ y’all are constantly doing bits. it’s kind of confusing for your friends, but neither of you care much because you’re just having a great time

⎼ ted is an absolute gentleman always, not just in the honeymoon phase. constantly opening doors for you, helping you put your sweater on when you’re leaving the house, opening the car door for you. stuff like that

⎼ he rubber ducks for you a lot. just sits down near you and listens, letting you work out your issues by talking it out without feeling awkward about it

⎼ he’s just overall a great listener and very in-tune with your needs. only gives advice and input when you ask for it, but he always makes an effort to validate your feelings. holds you when you need him to and steps back when he senses that you need space. also really good at problem solving and helping out when you get overwhelmed or have sensory overload

– when you have bad days, he has a tendency to go above and beyond. he cooks dinner for you, makes sure your comfy clothes are all washed and clean, and generally just makes sure you have to do as little as possible so that you have the proper space to calm down

CHARLIE

– you guys have rapid fire joke contests together, usually late at night when you’re sitting on kitchen counters, snacking. you go back and forth until either the two of you are laughing so hard that it would be physically impossible to keep going, or someone can’t come up with a joke fast enough

– you try to stay on the sleep cycle but you both tend to get a little out of whack every once in a while, so you have these phases of going to sleep at a decent hour and then going to sleep when the sun is about to come up

– as such, you guys have these phases of making spontaneous runs to the grocery store or gas station to get snacks, usually cereal for some reason. you get whatever you want and charlie never lets you pay for any of it. on the later nights, you guys sometimes experiment with new flavors of things or weird snack combinations

– he has a thing about always making sure you’re warm enough. you’re a little chilly? he’s pulling his sweater off and pulling it over your head. once you’re all comfy and settled, he’s on his way to turn on the heater. your feet are cold? he’s running to get you a pair of fuzzy socks and a blanket in case your legs are cold too. even when you’re about to leave the house -- it’s colder than 50 outside? he’s scrambling around the house, gathering gloves and scarves and beanies for you to take with you in case you get cold, even if they don’t match. no other options but you’re still cold? mans is wrapping himself around you, trying to use his body heat to warm you up himself. he hates when you’re chilly and uncomfortable :[

– brings you home little presents all the time. literally anything that remind him of you. you have a collection of buttons and keychains that he’s seen while walking through shops. he also steals cool props from videos and projects to give to you. you have a little collection going

– loves pda all the time, but not always cuddling (which can sound confusing, but let me explain). he likes casual pda with you around the house, whether it be you resting your feet in his lap while you both lounge across the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning back on his legs while you watch a movie, him putting a hand on the small of your back while he moves around/behind you, holding onto your hand until you’ve walked out of reach, gently pressing his knuckles into your back while you’re laying on the other side of the bed and facing away from him. likes to be touching you when he can be but in little ways that aren’t super overwhelming (mostly because i feel like you’d both be too fidgety to just cuddle)

– some of your most domestic moments are spent in the kitchen, usually cooking dinner together. it’s light and warm and it feels so much like home that you sometimes find yourself questioning if it’s all real. he’s right there to tell you it is. but back to dinner. he loves cooking for you, and you love cooking for him. it’s all laughter and winding down from work days and gentle hugs and swaying together as he hums for you

SCHLATT

– it’s a little hard to find domestic moments with schlatt off the top of your head, but they’re there when you look for them. they’re quiet, but they’re ever present

– he sleeps a lot, meaning that you usually wake up before him. if he’s sleeping light enough to hear you get up, he’ll roll over, half asleep, wrap his arms around your middle, and pull you back into his chest, mumbling a groggy “ten more minutes, babe. i’ll be up then, jus’ ten more minutes.” it’s never just ten more minutes

– he picks you up and carries you around a lot. not in the typical way. if he thinks you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll grab you from your desk and throw you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch and forcing you to watch a movie with him. or you’ll be sleepily making yourself a snack in the kitchen and he’ll grab you from behind, just wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up. he carries you, complaining and squirming, the whole way to your room and tells you it’s nap time

– you guys have a lot of nap dates. it’s an easy, sweet block of time for you guys to spend together, hazy and together while napping on and off. if one of you wakes up, you get to fondly watch the other nap until you fall asleep again. watch the easy rise and fall of their chest, run a hand through their hair, trace gentle patterns on their skin, play with their fingers, listen to the beating of your heart

– you do the dishes together. you wash and schlatt dries. sometimes you get into towel fights or start flicking water at each other with your fingers

– schlatt follows you out of bed when you get up in the middle of the night. he’d never admit it, but he has a hard time sleeping without you. he hates waking up to a cold bed. so when the clock blinks 3:17 and he feels around to find nothing beside him, even if your side of the bed is still warm, he huffs and gets up. pads through the house with puffy, tired eyes until he finds you. wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “what are you doin’ outta bed?” he never waits for your response, just starts ushering you back to your room

– really likes seeing you in his clothes, again, not that he would ever admit it. he’ll purposely “forget” to do your laundry so that you have to start wearing his hoodies, tee shirts, sweats, etc. it just gives him the warm fuzzies, seeing you be so comfortable and cozy in his clothes

– hangs on you a lot on days when there’s nothing to do. he’s pretty idle about it, too, kind of like a character accessory. sometimes you just have to go around the house doing your stuff with this big man hanging off of you because you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave you alone for an hour or two to get your work done

#✩; yours truly #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #ted nivison x reader #slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #chuckle sandwich fic #ted nivison fluff #ted nivison headcanons #slimecicle fluff #charlie slimecicle fluff #charlie slimecicle fic #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff #chuckle sandwich x reader

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