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#but yeah I think there isn’t much I can do about it
worldsover · 2 days ago
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The Wrong Person ft. Heejin
Co-written with @kaedewrites
words ✦ 11231
genres ✧ cheating; road head; Daddy kink; doggystyle into pronebone; breeding (of course); shower facefuck; just a stranger!Heejin
Thanks to @v1ntrix and @ggidolsmuts for the feedback as usual!
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Wipe the glass. It’s already clean. Wipe it again. It’s still clean. You’re staring at the woman walking toward you. You’d say your gaze is intense, but her allure is more so. You’d say she’s walking toward the bar to which you’re tending, but her eyes connect with yours for a split second—the target is you. You’d say something.
But you can’t.
She looks away. Again, you can’t.
Why can’t your eyes find the strength? Is she really that fascinating? Chalk up your small fixation to the phenomenon of the recurring stranger. Everyone has one or two or a few in their life. It’s more than déjà vu. Mutual. Coincidental. Should be inconsequential. You’ve seen her over and over, enough that stranger becomes a misnomer in a manner. Somewhere. Somewhere. Even if your glance is innocent, guilt sets in—after all, the woman isn’t your girlfriend Hyunjin. The woman is the wrong person.
“Hey.” Her greeting cuts through the bassy music well enough, even if her voice has similarly low frequencies that should clash. She sits on the stool in front of you. 
Though the headcount is lower than usual, the clubbers on the dance floor are as soulless as usual and the DJ plays the music just as loud. You should invest in earplugs. You see all kinds as a bartender at a club. Everything from women in stuffy suit jackets to guys who definitely should have been kicked out for not wearing a shirt. But something about her casual outfit—the loose plaid blouse, the tube top, the denim shorts—throws you off more than most.
Still staring. It’s dark, yet your eyes keep snagging on the defined lines of her abs. Even when you peel away from her middle, you’re raising to the subtlest cleavage, then lowering to her equally toned, meaty thighs. Earplugs won’t help here. Do your job.
She waves, giggling to herself. “Hello? I’m Heejin.”
“Oh. You’re not ordering?” You set the glass aside. “Oh. You’re… uh.”
“Heejin, yes. And I am ordering. I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri.”
“Of course.” As you rummage for the rum, you say, “I was going to say, I know you from somewhere.”
“Ooh, really? Where do you think?” Cutely, Heejin holds her head in her hands and tilts her head.
You retrieve strawberries and citrus soda from the fridge, then mix them with ice in a blender; its whirring is annoying. After grabbing some scrap paper and a pen, you write down the word “earplugs” with a big underline.
“So I should know,” you say. “Dammit.”
“Yeah, you should.” Heejin harrumphs, her arms crossed.
The more she throws you off, the more you have trouble finding the words. However you knew Heejin, it seems to be trouble, or at least some sort of alarm is going off in the back of your head. You should finish making her drink, deal with a couple more customers, so you can finally go home to—oh, right, Hyunjin. She’s away, back at her hometown for the week. You wouldn’t consider yourself a clingy boyfriend, but the expectation of coming home to Hyunjin has just been so entrenched in your mind ever since she moved in with you. 
“Hey.” Heejin waves in front of your face. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” You realize you’ve just been frozen in thought, rum bottle in hand.
“Seems like you have something going on.” Her voice lulls you into a false sense of security. Or maybe it is genuine and you’re thinking far too much about a small interaction. You thought you had these nuances ironed out having worked at this bar for long enough.
“No, no. It’s just that work is almost done and my girl—Ah! Right, I remember! You go to the same gym class as Hyunjin!”
Heejin has a weak smile on her face. “That’s all? She doesn’t talk about me? Well, for your information, we hang out too.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You’re her friend. Sorry, just slipped my mind.”
“Tsk. Meanie.”
You can’t follow Heejin. One moment, she acts cool, then the next, she plays like she’s as cute as a button. Again, a weird, subconscious alarm goes off. It’s her body language, how she’s leaning over and inching closer to you. 
“Can you help me out? You seem like you’re good with girls,” Heejin says with an undecipherable low tone. Her stare is not directed at you but inside of you. Your initial reaction is to draw the line right in the middle of this countertop—you’re too slow, so she continues, “Your girlfriend won’t stop talking about how good you are to her. S-so I just thought maybe you could give me a hand.”
Think about it deeper. What’s wrong with talking to Heejin? She’s just a friend of a friend, maybe a tad tipsy, maybe a bit bizarre. You’re doing your unwritten job description as a bartender by entertaining the woes of your customer.
“Uhh. Um, like… No, I’m not. Not good with girls. Really.” You’re coming out of the gates swinging with your sage wisdom. Good job. Pour out the strawberry daiquiri and garnish it with a lime. Why are you stumbling? This is the easiest drink to make. “I just got lucky.”
Heejin takes the glass, brushing your fingers. That was purposeful. But you notice more the lightest scrape of her long nails against the back of your digits, and that shouldn’t raise the hairs on your arms to their ends.
It does.
“Oh. Lucky?” Heejin takes a sip. 
Though a bar counter separates the two of you, her charismatic pull removes any perception of space. People on the dance floor are grinding into each other, and it feels like there’s more distance. Okay, so Heejin is flirting. Now that you recognize the dangerous situation, you can disengage, back up, not get sucked into her gravity. All you have to do is—
Heejin takes your frozen hand. Once again, her touch is soft, near imperceptible: her thumb just rubs a small circle on your palm. The heat from her hand turns you into ice.
“Do you want to get luckier?” she whispers.
You hear it. Loud and clear. The club’s blaring music can’t challenge a single decibel.
Heejin backs away, sensing your discomfort. She sits straight, and with the pout on her lips, it’s like she’s a whole different person again. “See, I’ve been having trouble with guys.”
You shake your head. “I-I can’t help you.”
“Sure you can. You’re a bartender.”
Just leave. Lose out on the tip. Who cares? Hyunjin finds out you were cold to one of her friends. Better yet, tell her the truth. Say you were a good boyfriend and rejected Heejin’s advances. You don’t want to ruin one of Hyunjin’s friendships, though. Or maybe you should ruin this friendship—Heejin is bad news.
However, your feet are planted. More than anything else, when a customer asks for advice, you help them out. You’ve dealt with much worse such as rowdier and more violent drunks before. Heejin could be messing with you; she seems the playful type. She could just be touchy. Your life is filled with misunderstandings leading to problems—for example, you could’ve asked out Hyunjin months earlier but didn’t because you heard she wasn’t ready to commit (turns out that was about work)—so it’s best to assume people’s sincerity.
Heejin raises her brows, her eyes wide in anticipation. Seems that she really needs the help.
You relax your shoulders. “Okay. Fine. What sort of boy problems are you having?”
“Geez, you really like to stiffen up when you stare at me.” Heejin laughs to herself, maybe more of a soft exhalation out her nose.
“Uh.”
“It just seems like every guy I meet wants to fuck me. It doesn’t even matter what I wear. But I guess I can’t blame guys for staring at my abs or my thighs”—Heejin grins when she catches you doing just that—”when I try to wear something casual like this.”
“I’m sorry, I’m—”
Heejin plows on through with her point; you can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. “I want someone committed, you know? Someone with real experience in a relationship. It’s so fucking sexy when a guy is just so devoted to a girl.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what? You’re all jittery even though we’re just talking.” Once more, you didn’t notice until she pointed it out, which is more of an indictment of your overwhelmed thoughts considering how carefully Heejin is speaking. She sighs plaintively. “But I heard Hyunjin was going to miss this week’s gym class. Why didn’t you go?”
You don’t have to tell her. You tell her. “She… she said she wanted some alone time.”
“Alone time? Ha!” This is Heejin’s biggest smile, a blinding light in the dark club. Her fingers rap against the countertop. “I’m lying about the commitment part to be honest. But… maybe I’m not the only one lying about commitment.”
You want to hyperventilate. The sheer thought of Hyunjin hours away with another man makes you want to throw up.
Heejin has the most pitying look on her face. “Aww. It’s okay. See, I can at least be honest about myself. I said I lied, right? I did. I don’t want a committed guy. Well, I do, but not just any guy. I want the kind of guy who would give me presents every day. The kind of guy who would show off his relationship on Insta even if she doesn’t really like to post couple pictures.”
Any sort of survival instinct you had has been burned off by possibility, by innuendo, by thoughts of adultery that should be so far from a man standing and a woman sitting across from him, but you can’t ignore the truth of the present tension.
Heejin downs her pink icy drink. “The kind of guy who gets nervous at the mere thought of other girls is so hot. I’d let him do so much to me. I would suck his dick whenever we drive home from dates. I’d let him fuck my face, then pound me until I become part of the bed. I’d warm his cock while we cuddle. All that just because he’s such a nice guy. Isn’t that funny?”
You lick your lips. Everything you do is a mistake. It’s not that funny—you can’t even retort out loud anymore.
“Do you know any guys like that?”
At your silence, your stillness, Heejin stands up. Bending over the bar, she grabs you by the collar of your dress shirt. There’s so much strength in her grip—not even physical, but her mental hold on you. This whole time, you’ve been looking away from her eyes, and that only leads down her legs. Of course, Hyunjin’s thighs are just as rippling. So why are you comparing now? Is the grass greener? Keep asking questions. That’s what makes you you. That fundamental shakiness in your core that you forgot about stops you from stopping Heejin—your heart joins the stopping train as her eager mouth presses into yours, catching a bit of drool. Violets are a symbol of love and honesty; Heejin smells like them. Do Venus flytraps smell like this too?
“Mmm,” Heejin moans into your mouth. A simple kiss feels far too good. It feels far too good to taste the drink you made her. As if you made your own sugar-tinged death.
Stop her. 
Push her off of you. 
Do it. You have to. 
You have to not fall into the soft, slick embrace of her lips now mixed with the slithering temptation of her tongue. 
You can’t.
Hypocrite. What are you thinking?
Heejin wraps her arms around your neck.
Other bargoers are cheering. Luckily, this isn’t the kind of place to have regulars since new people rotate in and out all the time, but you’re hoping that none of your coworkers are watching too. You never shut up about Hyunjin. 
Your priorities are wrong.
“Do my lips taste good, Oppa?” Heejin says in the cutesiest voice.
“Yeah.” The honesty slips past a ragged breath. Heejin’s lips are like candy and they’re luscious and they will be your perilous new addiction because you’re falling right back into her mouth without a second thought.
When Heejin lets go, a flimsy saliva thread drips. “She doesn’t let you cum inside her, does she?”
You nod dumbly.
Heejin brushes through your hair one last time, then gives a small tug on the strands before she releases. “Let’s go then. I can do at least one thing she can’t.”
When you leave your spot to get your keys from the staff storage, the same bargoers that cheered you on are now booing.
As you collect your personal effects in a rush, your coworker Jaehyo joins you in the small room. You wave weakly at him. “Perfect. Man the bar for me.”
“Oh, thank god. I thought you weren’t ditching early this week. Honestly, you should just give me your job at this point since you’re always—Hey! Why are you sprinting so…”
Heejin is taking selfies in the parking lot. As you point out your black sedan, she gives you a pretty smile.
Your head is spinning when you get in your car. You’re the one who’s been serving drinks tonight, yet it feels like you shouldn’t be driving. Your body is moving on autopilot, commanded by Heejin’s every word.
“Drive.”
Drive.
Seatbelts click. Engines roar. You thought you were done with loud music, but you turn your stereo up to drown your thoughts which have been led so astray today that you’d rather they just sink to the ocean floor; their weak bones can rot in the water, fine. The song’s lyrics might as well be gibberish in your ears. Your overwhelming car speakers might as well be a piddly Bluetooth toy. You put the whole weight of your being into driving. 
At these speeds, you shouldn’t look at your phone screen, but the notification in the corner of your eye draws your attention—Jaehyo. 
“Hey,” Heejin says, twisting the volume knob, “he says there’s a bunch of tabs that haven’t been closed and he doesn't know who bought which drinks.”
“Text him back for me.”
“Of course.” She grabs the phone from the mount. “Uh, PIN?”
“Eleven fifteen.”
Heejin scoffs. “I could’ve guessed that.”
“Tell him I’ll pay for all the drinks.”
“Wooow, Mister Big Shot over here.” Heejin types away. “Alright. Sent. Wait a minute, does that include mine?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. You still have to pay me back.” You realize how flirty this comes across when you shouldn’t be flirting with the idea of flirting.
“Wow. You’re a liar. You look so conflicted and anxious like you're fighting demons. Yet here you are, saying pickup lines like a porn star. I know how you can pay this rent,” Heejin says in a purposefully low and exaggerated voice. Her similarly deep giggle disarms you by making you laugh. Then you’re quieted by Heejin once more. “What do you really want? I think I know. You want me to fuck my face on your cock in this car, bring my lips to the bottom of your dick, hit the back of my throat with a sticky load.”
You manage to temper your erection during Heejin’s advances, though that’s not so easy when her lips are next to your ear, whispering breathy, sweltering nothings.
She fondles your crotch over your pants, and you’re doing everything to hold back—everything short of turning the car around, dropping Heejin off in the middle of the road. You should do that. You should really do that. 
Your foot is made of lead.
Heejin unzips your pants, fishes your soft dick out. Her eyes widen.
“It’s that long? Even when it’s not hard? I am mad at Hyunjin. You know that? Wasting such a beautiful cock.” The bassier notes in her voice tingle from your ear straight to the inside of your brain.
“Don’t talk about her.”
“Oh, okay. I have one way of keeping quiet.” Heejin takes off her seatbelt—you’re in no place to teach her safety. She leans over the center console and places her striking visage a hair’s breadth from your flaccid shaft. The light grip of hands weighs on your thighs like anchors, digging, tickling. You want to laugh.
Heejin has an unwavering resolve to keep her eye contact despite having to twist her neck to look at you. She runs her spit-wet mouth up and down along the underside of your shaft, puckering and kissing. Still twisted sideways to face you, a hand gripping the base, Heejin pops your cockhead in and out of her lips; each pop leads to a small bead of pre-cum happily slurped up by Heejin.
“Do you like it when I play with your cock like this? Or should it be my throat milking your cock instead? Mwah. This is for… proper payment.” 
“You don’t have to keep talking.”
“Good point. I should just be your oral fuck hole, right?”
“That’s not what I—”
Heejin swallows your length in two motions: halfway down, your dick hits the back of her mouth, causing a gag and pause and a glob of saliva to spill, and then she breaks a barrier, your erection gliding in so easily.
Soon, you’re freed from the beautiful confines of her throat, though your sensitive tip is still nurtured by her lips. 
“Ghah, I thingh…” Heejin mumbles, “klh, you meant like thih. See? Gooh, blph, good fuck toy. Nhm.”
Heejin puts her hands behind her back. Now the only thing keeping her lips from kissing your crotch is your cock, and why would she let that get in her way? With much less control, subject to the whims of the car’s shakiness, she has to choke herself down your length. When Heejin goes up, thick spit strands fall from her giggly mouth. 
Control is slipping away from you too; in particular, it is wrested away by the choking grip of Heejin’s throat around the tip of your dick. A dangerous game, considering you’re in the driver’s seat. Truthfully, it’s a miracle you even made it this far without crashing, and luckily, you’re not too far from your destination—you’re not that far from home either. Four-lane wide roads become narrow streets leading to your neighborhood. There is no real race happening since Heejin can’t even see much past the tears in her eyes as she bounces her gorgeous face up and down, ruining her gentle makeup. However, it certainly resembles a race. The ending is obvious. The LED of the dashboard, streetlamps, headlights far behind and ahead of you. All pales next to the blissful light of…
To the blissful light of…
To the bliss…
An audible smooch as Heejin releases. “Now, now, not yet, Oppa. Didn’t I promise you something earlier?”
“You, you, f-fucking—”
“Well, we’re at your place now, silly. No matter how much I wanna taste this cum, I’m not gonna do it here in this parking lot.”
Oh, but you’re okay with your head bobbing up and down for other drivers to see? That’s what you would say. Instead, you’re silent. How is your car in your driveway in one piece? You certainly aren’t.
Heejin wipes her mouth with her forearm. “You almost hit a light pole! You’re lucky I was holding the wheel.”
You don’t even look at Heejin as you get out of the car. At the club, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. This infinite doubt is your downfall. You worked so hard to fix this worst trait of yours.
That was with a different woman.
Years of memories in this house. The front yard where Heejin’s lips flatten against yours is the same place you and Hyunjin had picnics, fed birds, planted new flowers—these get trampled as the two of you clumsily inch toward the entrance. Whenever you came home with Hyunjin, you had this dumb little game where you took turns knocking on this very front door even though no one answered. Every knock-knock joke that followed was even dumber, but you savored every second with your beautiful girlfriend. 
That’s not knocking; that’s the sound of Heejin being pushed again and again against the front door in your impassioned kiss. You fumble for keys somewhere under your phone inside your pocket; it shouldn’t be this hard to fish them out; it shouldn’t be this hard to figure out access to your own home—your dick shouldn’t be this hard pressing into Heejin. Hope the neighbors aren’t watching.
After too long, the door is slammed open. You savor Heejin’s tongue like you’re starving as she stumbles backward. The lingering scent of bread defining your domicile barely hits your nose. You throw your keys to the coffee table. A cat-eared mug you bought for Hyunjin as a random gift, a photobook she made for your birthday. You remember the rare makeout session on the couch instead of the bed (half the passion), you remember movie nights with Hyunjin in your living room when you fished out spilled popcorn from between the sofa cushions (found some coins too), and you remember... 
Nothing.
The lovely moments with Hyunjin are swept by. They’re not solid islands; they’re crude rafts—the ocean’s cruelty prevails. You’re pulled along toward your bedroom by Heejin, and everything passes. 
Heejin jumps on you, legs clinging to you while her fingers ruffle your hair. Her lips have yet to release for a breath. Your back slams against the hallway wall as Heejin is grinding against your clothed cock so desperately that you can feel the warmth through her own pants.
Your sigh is sharp, and your heart races when Heejin finally hops off of you and onto your bed. Though the light of the lamp you turn on is dim, you take in the sight of Heejin splayed on your bed. She’s sloppy. Her hair’s a mess; no doubt yours is too. A shiny trail of spit from the fiery lip lock starts at her lips, falls past her chin, ends between her cleavage. The warm light shines too on a thin layer of sweat on her pearly skin.
There’s no way to defend anything that’s happened since your lips touched Heejin’s lips, probably even earlier than that. But some irrational part of you makes you take out your wallet and pull out the condom you never use. (Hyunjin never wants to have sex anywhere other than this very bed, plus a whole candle-lit ritual just to get going.) You feel silly. As if this protection were the last bastion from infidelity. Ridiculous.
Absurdity has yet to stop you. While Heejin is distracted taking off her clothes, you sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. You strip down too, though you’re trying your best to discreetly put the thin condom on with your best sleight of hand. 
Once your deception is complete, you pull Heejin, sitting her up next to you. 
Heejin tilts her head. “You don’t want to watch me strip?” 
Your vocal response is empty. Instead, your lips smack against Heejin’s neck and shoulders as your hands run around her bare body. It’s quite the intimate lesson on her curves, but you can’t believe it anyway. You recall Hyunjin’s complaints about the intensity of Heejin’s routines in the gym. They’re paying off right now in this bedroom.
Shuddering, Heejin flips her legs over yours, straddling your lap. She rocks into your thigh, and the slickness from her labia rubs off on it. Your digits dig into the ample meat of her ass.
Now that you can appreciate Heejin’s perky tits to their fullest, your sequence of kisses continues lower down her chest. Her boobs are just enough for your hands to play with while your lips suck on her tautening nipples. That floral scent is muskier, something more primal in your mind. You let your teeth graze on her sensitive tips, drawing out tiny whines before you head back to her mouth again.
“Mh.” Heejin releases first. “You’re a good kisser. I shouldn’t be surprised.” 
Her smile weakens your heart. The question of whether it will beat again is silly given its unmatchable rhythm right now, but you can’t help but wonder the rhetorical anyway.
“Finally. After all this time. I’ve been waiting so long and—” Heejin looks down and scowls. “Are you fucking—no, I didn’t come all this way here to feel some rubber. I’d just use my dildo and think about you like I always do.”
You concede. Dumb plan. Still, you trace a line that should’ve been drawn much earlier. “I don’t care,” you say curtly.
Heejin gets off your lap and pushes you onto the bed. “Fine, I’m done then.”
“Awesome. Great. Leave.”
The two of you stare at each other, heavily breathing. Your dick is twitching in need.
��I said I don’t care. Go.” You’ve never sounded less convincing in your life.
“Stop me. Stop me right now.” Heejin smirks, bending down to place her face by your crotch. You back up until you can’t anymore, your pillows bunching up at the head of the bed. She crawls to follow your dick like a pet and its toy. Her breaths are heavy; you can hear them but can’t feel their warmth. Then, the tip of her tongue darts right under your condom-covered cockhead, giving arduously gentle licks. She draws a line up your length. What should be the most sensitive part of your body feeling the most pleasure barely registers as a blip of a touch.
Your body is as uncooperative, motionless as your mind.
“I said stop me. If you don’t want to pump my warm and perfect pussy with your seed until Hyunjin comes home, then just say the word and I’ll stop.”
The line is just a metaphor after all—useless, a waste of time. “P-please.”
“Please, what?”
You can’t look at Heejin. You can’t look at the picture frame on the bedside table with you and Hyunjin on your second date. How can you possibly look at yourself in the mirror when—“Please take off the condom.”
Heejin does just that with a triumphant smile. It’s a simple motion: the upward stroke of her hand brings the protection along with her fingers. After throwing the condom straight to the trash, she sits on you again. She rubs her wet pussy lips back and forth your length a couple times, then backs up and presses your rock-hard dick against her tummy.  
"See how warm it feels?" Understanding how intensely you’ve been staring at her midriff, Heejin slaps your cock against her abs, then places her palm on top of your tip like she's measuring something. “See how deep you can go?”
Your cock approximately reaches her belly button.
"Oh my god, that's gonna hit my fucking guts. Like this." Heejin keeps slapping your cock against her toned midriff, rubbing it left and right. “But from the inside! Fuck, you’re gonna mix my guts up. Without that stupid condom, you’re gonna shoot your load straight into my womb.”
While maintaining eye contact, she lets a stream of spit fall the way down from her lips, right between her cleavage, straight to her midriff. Using your shaft like a tool, she spreads the spit across, getting the definition of her muscles nice and shiny. She traces every subtle groove with your cockhead and lathers both you and her with saliva. You admire the evidence of time and effort Heejin has put into herself, though her good shape would not affect you as intensely if her face weren’t as adorable; it reminds you of Hyunjin—here we go again.
“Gonna need some lubrication for this monster to fit in me raw. I know I'm already dripping for you, but a little more wetness can't hurt right? Ptoo." Heejin spits again, then twists her slick hands around your length. “God, are you going to fit inside me? I have to use two hands to handle it properly.”
One more time, Heejin presses your cock against her abs, but this time, she squats up and down, sliding you against her firm muscles. It’s not just the externality of touch lighting your fire; a vivid hue saturates your every sense as the deep tingly pink dances around your thoughts to subsume all that isn’t the promise of thrusting your dick inside of the tight temptress now.
“No, I don’t care if it fits. Break me. Split my little pussy in half.” 
After one more upward motion, her pussy is aligned right above your tip; drops of slick drop from her slit before she drops too, her hands squeezing down on your shoulders.
“Oh, fuck, y-you’re going to have to help me, push me down. Too, too tight.”
You hold her taut midriff with both hands and squeeze her down into your cock. It’s not just an exaggeration of the novelty or the discomfort: gravity itself isn’t enough to pull Heejin around the width of your shaft. Up, then down a bit further. Despite all the nudging and the rampant lubrication of her pussy, it still takes a full minute, probably longer, to work your entire length inside of her tightness. You’re not so much fucking Heejin as you are wearing her slowly around your cock like a fitted tee.
“Ahh! Yessss, it, it, I think it’s hitting so, so deep. Is that my cer—ouwh, god.”
Eventually, Heejin acclimates to your cock’s size, her soft, soaking walls sculpting on your dick, and a visible bulge that still fails to disturb her perfect abs. There’s such a genuine eye smile on her when your cock’s fully disappeared inside. A simple bliss wracks her whole body. You feel the same way: you could stay like this until your girlfriend comes home—
With your eyes wide open, your mind racing with regrets once again, Heejin squats and pulls herself back up, your shaft glistening. You’ve never felt more stupid at the flash-moment relief you felt since it is taken away—along with your breath—when Heejin pushes her ass down into your crotch again, faster this time, but still needing to work it in. 
Then the rhythms truly start. A heartbeat, a series of blinks, the ticking of a clock. There’s nothing so predictable, so countable in how Heejin fucks you. And it is undoubtedly Heejin fucking you, not the other way around. Every thrust in her slick walls not only erodes your morality but also your inhibitions. You couldn’t deny that your girlfriend was much meeker in bed, and so you only ever matched that energy. Her pussy devours your cock whole yet again; she ceases all movements while letting out a prolonged groan. Maintaining eye contact this whole time, she has you in a chokehold that is almost as suffocating as her immaculate tightness. Shivers run down your back as she traces a finger across your chest. With teeth carved into her lower lip, Heejin’s sultry gaze continues to pierce through your eyes. 
“Oh god, you're stretching me so fucking well.” Her mouth goes agape as she rocks her hips to and fro. “You like how tight I am? And how you're molding my pussy into the shape of your cock? Here, hold me”—Heejin brings your hands on her waist—“and use me like a proper fucktoy. Your fucktoy.”
Swallow that spit stuck in your throat. Holding Heejin in place, you start to thrust upwards into her pussy, and each time you exit her entrance, her tightness rejuvenates. You still have to struggle nearly as much the first time to pry her folds apart again, and every time her insides clench around your length, you let out a hiss. While you’re receiving sensual satisfaction like you’ve never experienced before, she’s frowning—maybe it's your slow pace, or maybe it's that your cock does not always disappear completely in her.
It's probably both.
“Fuck. Me. Harder!” Heejin confirms your suspicion and then finds support on your belly to get your entirety out of her. A strand of mixed stickiness is left hanging for its dear life; a sudden wave of coldness replaces Heejin's incredible warmth, leaving you in shivers. “With a cock this amazing, you should be fucking my brains out already. Do you go this slow with Hyunjin? Maybe that's why she doesn't let you finish in her.”
“D-don't mention—”
“Shut up.”
With your mouth sealed by hers, you find yourself backed against the bed frame. Heejin grips your cock firm—something she almost failed to do thanks to her own slickness—and positions your tip for a re-entry. Her legs extend, one forward to land beside your waist, the other backward. 
“I know you’re always thinking about her. I want you to forget about her completely. It’s just me. This bed. This perfect, perfect cock inside of me. God, this is going to go so, so fucking deep in me.” Heejin licks her lips in excitement as she sinks down on your tip.
You growl, and then you yearn for more—of Heejin's heat, of Heejin's body, of any semblance of control. With one hand on her beautifully arched back, you seize a stiffened nipple into your mouth and immediately begin nibbling on it, and the other lands on her equally well-defined ass. In one fell swoop, Heejin completes the frontal split on your cock. One hundred eighty degrees is the angle of her legs, give or take ten or twenty as she rises and falls to the force of your thrusts.
While you’re heady with pleasure from her tight and flexible body, Heejin is first to be aquiver, pulsating from her core. She is not so much bouncing as she is grinding her pussy against your crotch while your dick fills her up to her guts. 
You’re done holding back your inner desires, your most wanton fantasies. For as much as you denied Heejin, she told only the truth, at least when it came to sex. The rest of the truth is that you want to last one minute longer to savor the brain-melting grip and wetness of her cunt. 
Therefore, one hand grasps Heejin's midriff tightly while the other pins her by the neck, freezing her in place with half your shaft inside. Her legs shake, and her eyes, interrupted from rolling back into her head, are distraught. Gingerly, you peel her off your cock like a wasted condom—her labia clenching your shaft in need, her legs shaking from the splits—and then you sit the pouting, babbling girl in front of you.
With the dangerous high of power (or maybe that’s just the warm smell of sex getting to your head), you chuckle. Heejin seems too far gone to notice. 
“Call me Daddy,” you say. “if you’re going to be such a clingy cockholder.”
Right. You’re the one at the edge of the earth, frayed and alone. Far from anyone. The furthest from your lover.
“Oh. Oh, god, your dick, so, oh, fuck. I miss… I need… why did you have to… F-fine.” After gathering a mote of composure and then slithering up to your ear, Heejin whispers, “Actually, that’s very easy. Ahem. Daddy.” 
You can’t hide the grin on your face. Not in a million years would Hyunjin…
“Pwease, turn Heejin into your baby bunny cum pocket? Heejin will be such a good girl for Daddy, I’ll cum all over Daddy’s cock so you can stuff my needy pussy with your sticky load and—”
You’re already overwhelmed. Not so gingerly, you lift Heejin by the waist and then deposit her onto your cock to resume her ride.
“Fuck! Daddy!”
You slap Heejin, adding one more smacking sound to the drumbeat of her ass against your lap. “I told you to call me Daddy, not call me like a phone sex operator.”
Heejin nods, eyes watery; the corner of her lips raise.
She already won long ago, so don’t humor her small victory. As you fuck your cock up into her, you cover her mouth, restricting her air. Her tongue darts at your hand between her lips, and you let the tiniest puff of air pass as her tongue pushes between your fingers. You pinch the wet, pink tip, drawing out more of her ragged moans.
Everything wrong is perfect. Everything perfect must be wrong. You’re in a true position of power for the first time in what feels like forever—then your phone vibrates from your bedside table.
Bvvt. Bvvt. Bvvt. Bvvt.
Hyunjin.
Many times tonight, you thought you had seen your nadir. It could be overacting, overthinking. Yet, the shadows snuck, crept in the crevices of the window cracked open, letting the whistle of the wind in. Yet yet, you feel the weakest you’ve ever been, the darkest inside, when your first inclination is to ignore the call. 
You’ve never done that. 
You’re always the first to call. 
Fuck. 
You were supposed to call her.
Heejin grabs the phone and picks it up for you before slamming down into your cock even harder. You have trouble catching up as you hold the phone by your ear; god forbid, you drop the device and record the squelchy noises of your illicit intimacy.
“Hey, babe.” Already, by her gentle tone, you know Hyunjin is giving you the benefit of the doubt. Though you’re usually meticulous, you’re not perfect, and it’s not that crazy to miss one phone call.
It’s not like you’d do something crazy like—Heejin is bouncing on your dick at such a delirious rate that the parting of words from your lips is impossible.
“Hello? Busy at work? You sound like you’ve run a marathon.” Hyunjin giggles.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s it.” You can barely breathe it out. Shudder; oh, do you shudder. “Hgh, I-I had to carry a bunch of… of, of heavy boxes. A lot of new drinks.”
“Ahh. Well, I miss you.”
Oh, she does? You could’ve just gone on the trip with her then. None of this would have happened. 
Now, you have Heejin planting kisses all over your sweaty torso. Now, you have your cock swaddled up and down. Now, you’ve hesitated.
“I…” You can’t even get past yourself, each exhalation obviously stifled.
Hyunjin gasps. Heejin too. How different can two puffs of air be? 
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hyunjin asks.
“I’m fine, I just—”
Heejin snatches the phone out of your hand and puts the call on speaker.
“Ahh, shit!” You glare at Heejin, a sly grin fastened on her face.
“Babe, do you need to go to the doctor or something?” From the speaker, Hyunjin’s concern reverberates throughout the room. At least at this juncture, you’re sure she’s missed the continuous sounds of sex, in part to Heejin’s small mercy in slowing down to… grinding halt is only half-correct. Her hips are rocking, but there’s certainly no rigidity to her motions.
Yet, you’re stammering, unable to find an excuse because you’ve never needed one before. 
Heejin does a jerking-off motion with her hand; you raise your brow. She points to the phone. 
Ah. Fuck it. Better than nothing. “Fine. I-I was mas… masturbating. And, and I dropped the phone.”
“Really?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Th-thinking about… me?”
“Who else would I be thinking about?”
Heejin grins at your rhetorical question, knowing she’s the answer wrapped around your dick. “Tell her you miss fucking her,” she whispers—her voice is soft enough, but you still tuck the phone away out of sheer instinct.
You aren't going to always obey her. “Y-y'know babe, I really miss you.”
“And you're saying that while masturbating to me?” Hyunjin scoffs. 
A genuine smile flashes across your face. “No, I just really miss you. I know I put too much pressure on you, and I'm—”
“No, no. Keep all that for when I get back. You sound really tired, so you should go take a rest. Dream about me in the meantime, will you?”
“I… Um. Yes, of course. I will. I love you. Goodnight.”
“I love you too. Mwah.”
The call ends, and the phone finds its rightful place back on the mattress. Despite the other woman coating your cock, the only thing you feel at this moment is embarrassment.
Heejin is sitting calmly on your dick. “Look at you. All in thought again. All backed up because of Hyunjin.”
You gulp as she slinks her hand underneath to paw at your balls. “You’re—you, you didn’t let me cum in… ugh, the car.”
It’s not even a full giggle, just a small blow of air from Heejin’s nose. “Right. Of course that’s what you’re thinking about.”
You have no retort but to provide some force in your waist, snapping upward to drive your length deeper inside. That's less than a retort. Full surrender.
As the bouncing intensifies, hands stop roaming when she interlocks her fingers with yours. Of all the sensual touches, this feels the most intimate. Thus, the most forbidden. And so, the most captivating. Upon a missed beat of your heart, you let go. That free hand strikes her ass crashing down into your waist, and the sweetest whimpers and hottest moans come out viscerally. More than the sweaty warmth in the air, your scent is filled with Heejin. Flowers from another garden.
You start letting your lust out in words between the slaps on her buttcheeks. If you’re going to wither, might as well satiate more of your held-back fantasies.
“So you’re a fuck bunny, huh? A needy animal in heat who can’t even control herself.”
Look how ridiculous you sound. Who’s the true animal here? Who really lost control? 
Heejin nods, putting her highest pitch into her “mms” and “mhms”.
“I’m going to fucking breed you, then. Just like you’ve been begging for, huh? Stalking me, watching me from afar. As if you were a hunter. God, ff…” Your words die when her back arches in pleasure, her hands behind her on the bed, her waist gliding smoothly to lather your length with slickness. “You’re not a hunter. Not, not at all. You’re prey, you’re a little creature, a stray, and you’re gonna take all my fucking cum inside you.”
“Yes! Oh, Daddy, fuck, yes! Heejin… Heejin is your breeding, agh, bunny!”
Heejin is not so much riding you as she is making snappy, jerky motions with her hips while her arms and legs are wrapped around you in a tender hold. It’s an unsustainable rhythm because neither man nor woman could possibly outlast the bubbling pressure. The two of you are less than either. Animals. While she is making no concession to hold back her climax, you want—substitute this word for need on all occasions—one final win. Something. Anything.
However, her walls are tighter than ever, and more importantly, that tightness is coming in growing oscillations. The rising tides are in time with your own demise, a spiral fall into the infinite depths of earthly delight. To the magma core. Unbearable heat.
You’ve certainly stained her insides with pre-cum already, but you feel the first shots of semen, the last remains of regret replaced with a surging buzz.
By the looks of Heejin’s eyes finding the back of her head, finding some god of lust hidden in her brain, she’s feeling the same high. Despite all the loving intimacy you’ve had with Hyunjin, even the times you’ve made her cum during sex, you’ve never been able to cum at the same time as her. Simultaneous orgasm is one of those rare, tricky things to actually pull off. Yet here you are. A stranger. Is chemistry just a game of chance?
Were you always meant to be with Heejin in some other life?
These are the questions that curse you when your mind isn’t working right and letting you feel momentous ecstasy for infidelity. There’s not a correct choice you’ve made, yet here is paradise, its undesired reward abundant.
You and Heejin are two warm, slow-moving, intimately combined figures, slowly returning from the abstract gratification of mutual orgasm to the sticky, sweaty reality of this bed. Your cock is slowly softening too, though you have yet to pull out, slathered in both your lewd juices. Heejin looks tired but clearly isn’t since she’s still slowly swaying her waist, still searching for the last bursts of pleasure she can find in your slumping shaft. Maybe friction, maybe heat.
“D-done? Right. Of course.” Heejin can’t hide her disappointment in her pout.
Your head is shaking.
That’s disappointment too, right? When you shake your head, it’s disapproval. A lingering distaste in your mouth at yourself, that’s what makes sense.
This is a senseless place.
“No,” you say, your voice low. Obscene sloshing noises as you pull out of her snug pussy. Get up from the mattress. “I’m not done yet.”
Heejin is in awe. She must have expected you to turn over and fall on the bed tired. To be fair, you expected the same too.
But you're energized by the bunny. Heejin lays before you, drenched in sweat, her subtle makeup smeared. While her body in motion redefines perfection, steals the very meaning for herself, so too is her body in stillness. As she sighs, her pert chest rises and falls with every cycle of inhalation, exhalation. Her abs tense, showing their strong lines, and semen leaks out from her pussy with each visible clenching.
Heejin portrays many expressions in the shocks of climax. Her flawless jawline screams pride, her parted mouth lust, clearly slothful fatigue in those frowned eyes. You wonder how much deadlier can she get.
“Hah. You're staring,” she says between each labored breath.
Heejin then looks to the side; her chest still heaves, but slower. Place a palm on the facet of the gem that is her face, you could spend hours admiring her side profile. Maybe even write an essay on her nose bridge.
It's your turn to shower her chest with kisses. Her tits aren't bigger than Hyunjin's, though still perky enough. Each peck spells a rippling wave on her delicate flesh; the saltiness of her sweat glazes your lips.
Heejin moans to your many touches while blood rushes to your groin once more. Flip her over, off of her back, and onto her tummy. You glimpse shock in her face when she looks back.
The sin of wrath—worthless vengeance—on your visage must be painted too faithfully.
Feeling Heejin’s nipples and the heft of her breasts, you wrap an arm around her torso to lift her up so that she’s on her hands and knees. You spread her thighs, her asscheeks, admiring the glisten, the glow, the glamorous stickiness with whatever is left of your dripping creampie, then pull Heejin back so that you can align your already concrete-hard dick with her entrance. 
How her long hair falls, how the flesh of her butt ripples, how all the muscles in her back create such a drool-worthy image—target. Whatever the cause may be, you’re surprised how hard your erection is. Even with the most erotic session with Hyunjin—oh, she let you try a position other than missionary, how scandalous—you’ve never had a sequel.
Keep comparing. That’ll do you good.
There’s nothing to compare when you start to pull Heejin’s hair while you push your tip, parting her cunt’s creamy lips. With one hard snap of your waist, you bury your cock completely in Heejin. The both of you moan, you out of the tightness and her out of the sudden impact. 
You run your palm along her arched back to find yourself on her neck, then trace along her skin and give it a firm grasp; Heejin starts to struggle for air. In the renewed momentum of this one thrust, her tiny figure is propelled into the welcoming mattress, and your shaft somehow finds its way deeper into her cavern. Take a moment to admire how your cock pins Heejin down, how more of your previous load oozes out onto the sheets, how Heejin groans at this sudden intrusion. 
"Mmh, Daddy, you're even deeper in me." Heejin could barely squeeze words through her gritted teeth, but she's still relentless in tickling your arousal. 
Heejin is right, of course. The new prone position affords you the deepest penetration you’ve ever achieved, slick tightness totally overwhelming your pleasure points; she, on the other hand, finds herself in discomfort yet delight simultaneously. Though struggling for air, her lustful mewls are louder than ever, and she’s fucking back into you as best as she can while trapped under your weight. The literal chokehold you have on Heejin mirrors the euphoric chokehold she has on you at this very moment—in her submission, complete triumph. 
Not wanting to lose this war of attrition, you loosen the grip on her throat to focus on pounding into her creamy cunt. Her unintelligible noises become words.
"Grrgh, guh, god. Yes, can you feel it, Daddy? Feel how deep you really are in Heejin? It's okay if you can't, because Heejin definitely can. You're so close to my womb right now it's driving me crazy. Please cum for me, Daddy, please. Cum inside Heejin. Fill whatever gap there is between you and me with your hot, warm seed. Give me a baby bunny, please. Heejin is begging you here, please, just like how you wish that ungrateful bitch would, just like how that unthankful bitch would never. Don't hold back daddy. Please. Please. Please—"
Without a sign, Heejin reaches her second peak. Her body shakes in violence to add to the creaking bed, though all are silenced by her orgasmic cries. Lean forward, and your chest now connects with her back. Slick and slippery is the texture between your skins while the entirety of your length stays hidden within her folds. 
You maintain the speed at which you were ravaging her insides. Heejin pumps herself backward to hit two birds with one stone—to match your pace and to ride out her high.
Her screams are getting too loud; you can't risk waking the neighbors. Shove two digits past her spread lips, and Heejin immediately sucks on the makeshift gag. Turning back, she tries to meet your eyes with the pleading gaze she has so perfected. 
No, you are not falling prey to her trick. Shove her face down between the pillows, and you get a good sample of her earlobe while you chase your peak. 
With one hard thrust, you feel your tip smash against her cervix. Pull back out, and Heejin's walls desperately clench around you—her desire to milk you is strong. Your lips move down to suck at her neck.
Yet another hard thrust, you slam into her core at an insane trajectory; Heejin's womb sucks you in—
“Owh, gawd, you're gonna cum so much deeper”—you bring your fingers to the back of her mouth—“mmh, I can ph-pheel iiit—”
—as if begging you to fill her womb. The fistfuls of bedsheet fail to provide enough resistance; the floodgate unlocks.
“Take my cum, you fucking slut.” You pair your words with animalistic growls as you pound her hard enough to squeeze your seeds through the needy opening of her womb. “You're nothing but a pathetic cockslut. Look at how your womb is sucking me in. I bet that's the only thing your worthless pussy is good for—to be bred by taken cocks.”
You expect her to protest; she doesn’t. You spread her cheeks apart, spitting between them; it’d be rude, but it’s aimed at her tight, winking asshole. Again, you expect more of a response when your thumb toys at the ring of flesh. Shaky breaths through her breathing orifice while all the others get filled, she indulges in her cock-drunkenness—capable of doing nothing but pitiful whimpers. As you hammer her down hard enough that she’s become part of the mattress, your thumb hooked at the temptation of her rear entrance, you fall into indulgence too.
“Fucking, fff, filling you, ugh, up!” With a sense of finality in this thrust, you turn Heejin’s womb into the promised creamy mess. Her asshole has wholly swallowed your thumb. Grasping the sheets as hard as you grasp her asscheek, she is silent as she endures the endless spurts of warmth in her tummy. 
Keep pumping. Don’t stop till you're as devoid of your seed as your soul.
At the same time, you retrieve your thumb and your cock from her two greedy holes. Your cum is leaking out of Heejin’s slit, between her thighs, onto your sheets. Her asshole dilates, contracts. Those two facts alone nearly drive you to continue the madness; maybe you could collect the slick semen as lube for anal. However, despite your dick in hand, tip rubbing against her asshole, you stop yourself.
With a resolve like you’ve never seen (or at least one you haven’t had in hours), you sprint your way to the shower. Any cure to your sickness. But this shower will fix a shattered mug as readily as it’ll fix any other problem. Fatigue sets in, claws deeper, and no amount of scathing hot water on your skin gets rid of it. You switch to cold—you shout—that wasn’t worth it either.
Your world falls apart like warm streams splitting against you. How cruel the accuracy in its manner. Look into the wall. A faint, blurry reflection of you off the wet surface. The reflection clarifies: you’re a dumbass. This heat does nothing it’s supposed to, not a tinge of mollification in its heat.
“Hey, Daddy—”
You did not notice Heejin sneaking into the shower, but the change in her hairstyle is certainly apparent. Now flaunting a ponytail—Hyunjin’s signature and a personal favorite of hers—you hate to admit that Heejin looks equally as alluring, if not more so. She’s only in her panties, and those must be semen-coated. Sure enough, when she strips them onto the bathroom floor, she’s still dripping pearly and sticky fluids from her crotch.
“How could you leave for the shower alone, I have to clean up too, you know?”
She takes up the space between you and the wall, and she quickly finds herself on the ground. Her legs wide open, Heejin fingering herself is now a scenery you’re forced to enjoy. One digit deep, then another joins the fray—she slowly fingers your cum out of her swollen cunt.
“It’s not too late to stop me,” Heejin smirks as she is relentless in teasing you. “Unless you really want to put a baby in me.”
Now with eyes shut and mouth agape, she cherishes the pleasure she’s bringing to herself. The unoccupied hand finds itself on the ground for support as she buries her fingers deeper inside her folds. Heejin’s hedonism elevates; her tongue sticking out in the air is the proof.
The droplets bounce off your body to land on Heejin's features, and for a moment, she looks adorable as she shakes the excess moisture off, giggling. But then, she’s right back, immersed in her masturbation.
Your cock finds its vitality again at such a lewd sight; Heejin need not open her eyes to realize it. Further extending her tongue to reach the thing sheltering her from warm water, she licks your tip as if encouraging you to follow the motion of her pink muscle. So, you do just that. However, she clearly isn't ready for the intrusion, her teeth grazing against your skin as you head straight for her throat.
The damned downward frown, again, and this time it's here to stay. Pressing on with the pattern of showing no mercy, you rock your hips to properly violate her mouth. The warmth from the shower pales in comparison with her cavern, and her tongue tickles the bottom of your shaft better than the water droplets bring relief to your figure. Her sloped brows scream starvation just like her pleading eyes. This isn’t a matter of wants—you have to feed her cock. As much as she can swallow. Even if it means her gagging and sloppily eating the meat.
“Guhk—your cum—guhk, musht taste as guhd as your cohk—didn’t, ghlk, get to eat earlieh”—her tears fuse with the shower water and the drool out the corner of her mouth past your shaft—“I, I, glk, need more. Need more, more, mo—”
At this point, you're already used to her insatiability, fixing it with a yank of hair. Ponytails are amazing, especially when they're presented like this as a perfect handle for you to hold on to as you fuck her face rough. Each time your cockhead hit the back of her mouth, giggles mix obscene swishing and gurgling noises straight from her throat, and her cute tits ripple softly at the force. 
There's no room in her mouth for air, so it's only natural that she opts for the natural way of obtaining oxygen. She inhales through her nose with your cock still hidden in her mouth, making her throat do swallowing motions and squeeze around your shaft. The water splashing down on her face makes her breaths uneven and struggled since she’s trying to breathe down your dick in the same motion, but she embraces the challenge since there’s nothing more important than the cock down her throat anyway.
“Oh fuck—” You groan at the random fluctuations of tightness. “You’re such a good fuckdoll. Good oral fuck hole.”
You’re not sure where you got the verbiage from, though Heejin has the closest thing to a smirk she can manage with her lips around the root of your cock. Regardless, you can tell that she’s happy with the new nickname—her tongue moving with more furiosity makes good supporting fact.
Heejin’s looks are out of this world—even when there’s a cock in her mouth. You even feel a new pang of guilt: she’s too pretty somehow for your seed to cover her features. The pangs of guilt are quickly overtaken by pangs of impending orgasm. On her face? In her mouth? You would decide, but there is no decision. Keep your tip down her throat. The pleasure is getting too intense, and orgasm soon hits. It makes sense that she wants to savor your cockmilk, but her twirling tongue proves to be too much overstimulation for you. Your body jerks, so you instinctively eject from her eager mouth to spray the rest of your load on her face. This climax ends quickly; it’s your third one after all.  While you are regaining your composure, Heejin is busy creating a composition of your cum that was all over her visage, collecting with her fingers and tongue and then finally delivering it beyond her lips.
“So fucking tasty,” she comments after one big gulp. “Now let’s really clean ourselves up.”
The following minutes are filled with mutual silence—you do your cleaning and she does hers. No further touching. You’re in quiet denial—not of the unfaithfulness up to this point but of the surprising comfort you feel in the silence only broken by the splashing of water.
You both finish washing at the same time, so you shut the shower off. Stare at Heejin. Water droplets drip off her silky smooth skin. You can’t be staring yet again; that’s going to lead to an n-th round of sex. Forget morals, you’re not going to have a rigid bone left in your body if you keep fucking Heejin. Your mouth rounds to a circle while she smiles at you. 
Without worrying about the faint trail of water you’re making in your hallway, you speed off to the bedroom to look for some extra underwear and clothes to lend to Heejin. On second judgment, how absurd the concept. Surely, Hyunjin is going to notice the missing clothes, and surely, Heejin is going to wear the missing clothes the next time they meet.
Raising your hands, you fall onto your mattress. You’re naked. Didn’t bother looking for your own clothes. Whatever. Why even care about Heejin at this juncture at all? If she wants to leave naked, then so be it, or if she wants to wear her used panties sticky with your creampie, then so be it too.
Sure enough, she walks calmly into the room, semen-stained underwear and all, a towel around her head to dry those damp locks falling past her shoulders.
You curl up in the bed, refusing to examine Heejin further.
“This pillow belongs to someone else, I'm not sleeping on it.” Refusal will never stop Heejin’s low voice from worming its way past your ears straight into your brain.
Rather weak reasoning, sure, but you're in no place to object given everything that's happened tonight. With a sigh, you turn to face her and extend your arm; Heejin lies on it, filling the emptiness between her neck and the mattress just fine. 
“Mmh, it's comfy this way,” Heejin murmurs as she curls her curves into you. “Does she do this with you after sex?”
Silence fills the room for seconds; she nudges you for an answer that she knows she shouldn’t expect.
“Ha, didn't think so.”
That’s not even true, of course. Intimacy after sex isn’t an entirely new concept to you—that’s the one thing that stands out with Hyunjin in bed—but it’s so foreign with a different person. Sniffle her hair; it’s rosy. You wrap your free hand around her waist; she’s significantly smaller in your arms than Hyunjin. Usually, Hyunjin kept her back facing you, and though you adored having her as the little spoon, something was always missing. Details, details, details. So your silence continues all the same.
“You’re enjoying this,” Heejin whispers, “aren’t you?” 
Heejin turns around to face you, her delicate fingers tracing along and tickling the bare flesh of your neck at the same pace as her breath. How can the delicate touch of air be a chokehold? Yet, that’s exactly what Heejin has on you.
“Now why don’t I make you feel better, Daddy?”
Lifting your leg over her hips, Heejin has your half-erect shaft between her thighs, her slick slit shows haste in lathering you with her juices. All the recollection you’ve been doing, every hard-fought bucket of water you bail out of the hole-ridden ship, yet you forget your whole relationship in an instant. You doubt even Heejin understands the harshness of such a simple action, dragging any hope back into the ocean, cruel mistress. Moan into her mouth, and she returns the same. Finally, undo the seal on your mouth; you continue fucking her soft muscles in a telegraphed motion.
“Heejin is gonna sleep, she’s exhausted.” She smirks, that damned smile damning you to do more unspeakable things to, and with, her. “You can use Heejin’s body all night long though. I am your good little cocksheathe, after all.”
This is the actual biggest difference when you cuddle Heejin. Your cock slips inside her creamy slit so easily. It couldn’t have been an accident, yet Heejin is as motionless as sleep can make her. So is it your fault? No. It couldn’t have been. There’s no way you would have thrust yourself inside the addicting, delectable, squeezing hole for one last savoring. Right?
You must lay still as Heejin’s seed-stuffed hole continues to seize your half-hard shaft. Too sensitive, too sore, too spent. But not enough to leave. You’d think that by now, you can’t have any energy left to keep your erection lasting, but her walls warm your cock just well enough that you’re helpless to the loving embrace. If you did try to pull out of her possessively grippy pussy, you’d probably spurt another few drops, simultaneously milking your last breaths out of you.
So, pulling out is as much an option as the sun failing to rise in a few hours.
When your eyelids are yanked open by that inconsiderate light, you are alone in your bed. 
Your first instinct is to check your wallet. All your cards, your cash, a random Subway coupon. Down one condom though. Stretch, and your body disagrees. The only evidence is the sheer exhaustion in your muscles. And your balls.
 You didn’t drink.
You’ve never had a worse hangover.
No, no, it was all a dream—you wish. You could get away with being scolded for your dreams. This was a whole different beast.
Your focus is pulled by a buzz by your legs. Reach for your phone.
One. One. One. Five. A date. Naturally.
Heejin started following you. 
She’s not even in the same room as you. It’s so easy to ignore.
Then again, it’s just as easy to open the messages and type away.
Hyunjin won’t be home for a few more days anyway.
Say you sent it to the wrong person if need be.
Or you were with the wrong person to begin with.
No.
There is no wrong person.
Only the person in the wrong.
You.
Sent a message to Heejin.
✦✧✦✧✦✧
AFF, AO3
Thank you again to the wonderful @kaedewrites for working with me on this one! You don't understand how much I enjoy every collab. They always drive me to write way more than working alone. Writing is always a collaborative affair, after all. It's just annoying whenever the only person I have to work with is my dumb past self, who refuses to finish these stories for me.
:chuupeek:
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blu-joons · a day ago
Text
When They Call You During Run BTS Filming ~ BTS Reaction
Jin:
As you picked up the phone, you heard Jin tell everyone to be quiet. “Y/N, what’s your favourite song of ours?” Jin asked you, without even saying hello.
“I quite like Boy with Luv,” you replied to Jin, hearing plenty of commotion in the background, “why are you asking me that so suddenly, what’s going on?”
Jin stepped aside so that he could talk to you quietly, “for the episode, we have to guess people’s favourite things.”
“I’m sure that there are plenty of other songs of yours that your fans like though,” you quickly told Jin, not wanting him to use your answer to represent everyone.
The boys had already gone for it though, “Boy with Luv is a popular song, we’re going to trust you and pick that as the fan’s favourite too.”
“Don’t do that because you’ll blame me if you guys lose.”
“We’re trusting in you Y/N,” Jin laughed in reply.
A groan came from you, “keep me on the phone until you find out the answer, so I know whether to run or not.”
“Yeah, you might not be welcome at the dorm tonight.”
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Yoongi:
You quickly paused your programme as you noticed your phone ringing. “Y/N, tell Jungkook to go and pick on someone else?” Yoongi yelled down the phone.
“What are you on about?” You laughed, with no idea what was going on as you heard Jungkook ‘s laughter in the background as Yoongi told him to go away.
He was pushed and pulled in two different directions as he tried to talk to you, “can you tell Jungkook to get another member?”
“Why?” You asked him, wanting to know what it was that you were supposed to be doing. “If you’re playing a game, then isn’t Jungkook doing what he’s supposed to be doing?”
A groan came from Yoongi as you failed to do what he asked. “Y/N, you’re supposed to be on my side, help me get Jungkook to bugger off.”
“Who’s he going to go after if he can’t go after you in the game?”
“I don’t care who he gets,” Yoongi cried out to you.
A chuckle escaped from you as you heard how desperate he was. “Sorry, but I think you might have to fight this one yourself.”
“I can’t believe that you’ve let me down like this.”
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Hoseok:
Your heart stopped when you looked down at your phone and noticed Hobi’s name on the screen. “Y/N?” A voice called out, not recognising it as Hobi’s.
“Hello?” You quizzed, taking a moment to work out that the voice that you actually heard was Namjoon’s, wondering why you hadn’t heard Hobi’s voice.
A sigh came from Namjoon before speaking to you, “I don’t suppose you’re able to get yourself to the hospital, are you?”
“W-why?” You nervously quizzed, fearing the worst as you remembered what it was that the boys were filming, knowing just how physical the episode was.
Namjoon knew that you knew too before saying a word. “There’s been a bit of an incident, Hobi might have had a bit too much confidence.”
“What’s he done Joon? Or would I rather just not know for now?”
“It’s easier to show you Y/N,” he told you in response.
Your head nodded, grabbing your coat. “I’ll drive to the hospital now; I can be there in about half an hour I reckon.”
“I’ll meet you outside to show you where.”
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Namjoon:
You didn’t know what was going on as you answered Namjoon’s call, hearing plenty of noise down the line. “Y/N, can you hear me?” Namjoon shouted to you.
“I can hear you,” you yelled back to him, “what on earth are you doing? I thought that you were filming for run?” You asked him, recalling Namjoon’s schedule.
A laugh came from him in reply to your question, “we are, but there’s a couple of things that we left at the dorm.”
“Let me guess, you want me to go to the dorm and bring them to you?” You asked, reading Namjoon like a book, knowing exactly what he wanted from you.
Another laugh came from him, “I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate, but I promise that I’ll make it up to you for helping us out to get this done.”
“I can get to the dorm in twenty minutes if you tell me what I need.”
“I’ll send a text with a list on it,” Namjoon replied.
Your eyes widened slightly, “a list? How much have you left at the dorm? Did you not check before you left the dorm?”
“You know what we’re like, just a tad forgetful.”
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Jimin:
As soon as you saw Jimin’s name pop up on your phone, you were worried, quickly accepting his call. “I’m exhausted,” was all that he said to you answered him.
“Is that all that you rang me for?” You asked him, shaking your head as you sat yourself down on the sofa, “why are you ringing me during the middle of filming run?”
Jimin could hear the panic that was in your voice, “I just thought I’d call and see how you are, what’s wrong with you?”
“I thought something bad had happened, you never ring me during filming,” you scolded him, taking several deep breaths to calm yourself back down.
A soft sigh came from Jimin as he listened to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I only rang because I’m tired and I want to hear your voice.”
“It’s fine, it’s my fault for probably assuming the worst straight away.”
“It’s nice that you worry about me though,” Jimin smiled.
Your eyes rolled at how excited he sounded, “of course, I worry about you, especially when I’ve seen some episodes of run too.”
“This one’s easy, even we can’t mess it up.”
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Taehyung:
A sigh of relief came from Taehyung as you picked up his call, speaking straight away. “Y/N, we’re relying on you to get the answer right so that we can win a snack?”
“Answer right for what?” You quizzed, with no idea what was happening as you heard the boys in the background, their voices all muffling together as they all spoke.
Taehyung quickly shushed them before speaking again, “do you have any idea what the capital of Samoa is Y/N?”
“Isn’t it Apia?” You asked Taehyung, not even having to think as the boys all cheered on the end of the phone in reply to the answer that you gave.
Taehyung didn’t respond as he watched the production team, as their heads quickly nodded. “Y/N, thank you! I knew that you wouldn’t let us down.”
“I hope you plan on sharing some of those snacks with me for helping.”
“I’ll bring some home with me,” Taehyung promised you.
A chuckle came from you as the boys all thanked you. “I’m glad I could help, but you guys all owe me a favour at some point now.”
“We’ll help you out whenever you need us.”
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Jungkook:
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you glanced down to see Jungkook calling you, quickly picking up his call. “Y/N, guess what, I got to come home early?”
“Did you win again?” You laughed, hearing in the background of the call that Jungkook was already on the road. “Shall I start getting ready to go out to dinner in that case?”
The smile on Jungkook’s face quickly turned up, “I reckon that I’ll be home within about half an hour at this rate Y/N.”
“Wow, you really did finish early,” you smirked, shaking your head as you realised that Jungkook was over two hours early to leave the set.
He couldn’t help but laugh knowing that the boys were still on set. “You should have seen their faces when PD told me that I was able to go home.”
“I can imagine that none of them were probably impressed with you.”
“I think they might have hated me,” Jungkook chuckled.
Your eyes rolled at how delighted he sounded on the other end of the line, “you’ll be in trouble when you see them at the dorm.”
“I’m the winner, I don’t care what they do.”
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---
Masterlist
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hillbillyoracle · a day ago
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As an ex-fundie, every time there’s a conservative related tragedy, I just really want people to realize that there are two levels at which the religious right in the US operate. 
There’s the select few that are using the movement as a means to coalesce power for themselves. They know what they’re doing, they understand it’s not rooted in religious morality, and you’re never going to convince them of shit. 
There’s the much larger group of genuine believers and their beliefs are actually internally consistent much more than the Left would have you believe (saying this as a Leftist). 
Per gun violence, yes many of them would indeed rather risk their child’s life ending (and in their view, them going to heaven) than limiting guns. 
Something that doesn’t get a lot of media attention outside of fundamentalist churches is that most of them have an emphasis on what I can only describe as apocalyptic fascism. It’s this idea that the end of days have already begun and we’re living in the first phase of the apocalypse and ultimately the return of Jesus Christ. So people shooting up schools is a sign at that escalation and - while no one will admit it - there is an idea that if someone passes away, they’re being spared seeing the more grizzly impacts of the apocalypse as it progresses. That they’re kind of lucky. 
They also think that any limitation on guns is more dangerous. They believe True Believers will be rounded up and exterminated at some point (yes, the irony is not lost on me). That one of the signs of the apocalypse escalating is that being a Christian will be effectively outlawed. The select few using the movement have framed protecting ones family as a intrinsically Christian value so - as you might see where this is going - any attack on owning guns is an attack on Christians. 
I want to be very very clear that I’m talking about fundamentalist and charismatic Christian churches - not each individual fundamentalist and charismatic Christian, let alone all Christians. I can tell you from personal experience most Catholics and Episcopalians I’ve met when I related some of my experiences as a kid are generally respond with “what the actual fuck.” 
So why am I writing about this at all? Isn’t this like a divination blog? Well, one of the Left’s favorite coping mechanisms after tragedies is to funnel that frustration in to picking apart the so called idiosyncrasies in fundamentalist Christian dogma. While I understand it, I just want to help dispel the idea that it’s in any way useful. I want to frame that reaction for what it is - a reaction, a sign that a community in mourning and under real material threat has unmet needs.
But the illusion that what you’re doing will impact people in some way, that being technically correct will protect you, is a trauma response and doesn’t actually take care of the trauma. It tends to make another group a monolith and create more fear and aversion in oneself. Which makes further trauma reactions more likely to less stimulus. And so on. It’s understandable but it’s also avoidable. I just hate seeing folks in my orbit set themselves up to deepen their trauma through participating in ineffectual means. Believe me, I have been there and...yeah. Trauma reactions never heal trauma in my experience. 
So what to do instead? 
One, vet the information you’re sharing. See if you can confirm it with a known valid news source. If you don’t have the energy to check, just pause on sharing things. You can always share later. It’s important people have accurate information and not info based on fear or theory. One the best ways you can help regulate your community’s nervous systems and not make potential trauma worse. 
Two, if you have a personal relationship with people in or still connected with the fundamentalist Christian movement and if you are in a healed enough place to do it, they need your love and compassion. You want to know why my family is substantially more open to social support services and some gun restrictions than the average Fundie family? Because of good faith conversations. I didn’t police which words they chose to use and focused on arriving at a mutual understanding of each others positions. Over time, they’ve shifted. It took about 5 years but most now vote Democrat which would have been unthinkable years ago. They’ll never credit me and I am 100% okay with that. Cause that’s often what it takes to change hearts and minds. 
These conversations need to be held in private, away from the public spotlight where people, in my experience, are more open to change. If you’re going to attempt it, the first couple attempts might be rocky. I encourage you to cut things off when you feel yourself getting too angry or you lose touch with compassion. Remember that it’s less about supplying them with facts and more about trying to understand their position. By trying to understand their reasoning alone, you’ll likely change how they think because the perspective your questions come from alone will generally cause them to think about their belief in new ways. Then give it time. 
Trust the process. This is basically how my friends helped me begin to break free of fundamentalism as a teenager. By having those conversations, you are engaging in activism, because what most destroys the hold those select few have is their flock beginning to realize the nature of the wolf leading them.  
This is one of the reasons I think one of most valuable things we can do as ex-fundies is to heal our relationship with Christianity enough to reengage with it. It’s almost like being bilingual. We know the language, we know what is culturally significant and why, we know what events are treasured and what causes fear. We have the ability to, if we get to a stable place, to best engage with them on their own terms. Which is why so many churches demand friends and family cut off contact with us. They know. They fucking know. 
Three, if you don’t have personal relationships with fundamentalists, join larger efforts. I know a lot of people think of protests and they are good, but other work is often needed. If you can provide material support like money - do so. If you can’t or just want to do more, I really can’t understate how useful calling in, writing emails, and writing letters is. I’ve seen direct change from those efforts. 
So yeah, this was...way longer than I meant it to be. But basically, one, the fundie political ideology is internally consistent so the nitpicking is just for you but it’s honestly not that good for you and there are ways to actually meet the unmet need you’ve got. For me, this whole process can intersect with shadow work which is why it’s been on my mind lately. 
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satansreadingglasses · 2 days ago
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Obey Me! Brothers x GN!Plus size reader headcanons
These are only the first three brothers (Luci, Mammon and Levi), I’ll post the other four soon dw. These are SFW and NSFW headcanons.
a/n these were hella rushed, so they definitely won’t be the best thing I’ve posted
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Lucifer
SFW
Luci loves how you look, he’s not nearly as vocal about it as any of the others (Because he assumes you already know)
He thinks you look so soft and warm and sweet
Like a marshmallow
Even if he isn’t very vocal about his affection, he’s crazy touchy
While he’s doing work he’d have you on his lap and his hand either rubbing your back, ass or thighs
Luci needs to be near you at all times, especially in public
Like I said, he thinks you’re the most angelic (yeah) being he’s ever seen. And he has terrible jealousy issues
Like. His jealousy is comparable to Levi’s
So whether it’s just a hand hold, or a full ass squeeze. He’s all over
NSFW
In bed, he would always prefer to be on top of you
Even if you have the stamina to top him for hours, he demands to be on top
He loves to see the way you bounce and jiggle under him
He adores the feeling of your legs wrapped around him, like he’ll melt instantly
If you don’t already, he loves seeing you wear tight revealing clothes
Again, it’s something he’ll never admit. And he might even criticize it a bit, lovingly of course
But he goes weak in the knees whenever he sees you wearing something like that
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Mammon
SFW
He’s still the same old tsundere you know and love, but it’s intensified now
He might end up pushing too far and make a few comments about your body
But the second he sees your cute smile fade, his heart breaks a little
If you’re out with the other brothers and he makes a comment, he’s definitely getting scolded/beat up
But if the two of you are alone and he sees how bad he made you feel, he drops to his knees and practically begs for forgiveness
He’ll do anything to try and make you feel better
You know he doesn’t mean any harm by it, but it still hurts
If the two of you are dating, he wouldn’t dare make a comment like that
It’s all love and compliments from him
Talking about how he loves your soft and squishy thighs, and how you’re so warm at night and he can’t sleep without you next to him anymore
If the two of you are official, why not go all in?
NSFW
Just like Luci, he loves when you wear tight or revealing stuff
But he’s so much more vocal about it
Has unironically said ‘awooga’ when looking at your ass
Unless you asked him to, he’d rarely ever cum inside of you
He loves how good (good is an understatement) you look covered in sweat and his cum
The sight alone is how he’s able to go so many rounds, it gets him so hard so quickly
He also likes how soft you are because it makes it easier to grab you when he fucks you
He loves having handfuls of your soft flesh, he can barely handle it
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Leviathan
SFW
This boy honestly fell head over heels when he first met you
He just couldn’t handle how cute you looked
Levi’s also a tsundere, but he’s way more blushy and shy around you
He thinks that you’re just the most perfect human he’s ever seen
He loves to use you as a real life body pillow, cuddling up to you and sleeping on you
And when I say sleep, I mean he’s sprawled all over you, passed out, and snoring quietly in your ear
You can hardly ever get to sleep with him all over you like that, but you get used to it eventually
He’s also adore watching anime with you
He be laying on your thighs and going on and on about the voice actors, the characters he likes, and even one’s that remind him of you
He loves your thighs, they make a better pillow than anything he’s ever felt before
Genuinely wants to be crushed to death in between your thighs
NSFW
Levi will buy you cosplays, and no matter how you think they look on you, he thinks you look amazing
And you look even better with the outfit half on with his cock buried inside you
Before he confesses though, he sticks to just jerking off in his room
But every time he turns on some porn or hentai, he can only think about you
And while he’s never cum harder while thinking about you, he feels so dirty about it, and can barely look you in the eye after
He can only imagine your cute, round face right in front of his cock. Your hands instead of his
Or even going as far as imagining how it’d feel to fuck you, seeing the look on your face when he finally cums in you
It honestly keeps him up at night, terrified you can read his mind
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hertzwritings · a day ago
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The barber boys and the bakery
A/N: Yes, I do have three WIPS currently going and a shit-ton of other stuff, BUT the always amazing @buckyshattergirl​ and I have talked in LENGTH about a thing and now I have to write the thing. I need fluffy Dad!Andy Barber and cute kid Jacob. It’s probably going to be a series, maybe, and it’ll mostly be snapshots and cute little one-shots of the life of the Barber boys.   I can’t say when or how frequently it’ll be updated, but it will be updated!
Anyway, I hope you’ll like it because I sure as hell do!
You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized something – the sky is the limit, my loves!
Remember, feedback feeds the soul (min in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.
MASTERLIST
CHRIS EVANS MASTERLIST
ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS
SERIES MASTERLIST
Pairing: Andy Barber x female reader
Contains: language, fluff, mentions of violence, age gap
W.C: 2.000
 The meeting
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  The bakery was quiet for the first time since you opened today; the hustle and bustle of high school kids had dwindled down to zero, and you finally had time to make yourself the cup of coffee, you had craved since 4 in the morning. You did worry, though, because your favorite kid – the lanky, shy Jacob – had been nowhere to be seen, which was strange for him. He came in every day, a shy smile on his lips and asked (as the only one) for your walnut muffins, small talking about nothing really, while you bagged it up for him. It was steady and routine at this point:
You opened, began baking, and precisely thirty minutes before the bell rang, Jacob would show up, buy a walnut muffin, eat it inside while talking about schoolwork or his dad – or how much he hated his mom – and then wave goodbye. You liked it. He was a smart and funny kid, and your general penchant for being a MomTM, made it easy to talk to him and dote on him.
He seemed like he needed it.
Which is why you were worriedly looking out of the window towards the school with furrowed brows, when the bell rang, and Jacob still hadn’t shown up. Not that he wasn’t allowed to not show up, but it gave you a sense of unease. He had been through enough, already. You began baking another round of croissants, flour going everywhere, and you grumbled to yourself that this was not the day for wearing black boots, because they were slowly turning grey. Occupational hazard.
You were so concentrated, that you missed the bell chiming and the sound of shuffling feet, until a soft voice called out. “Hey, Y/N.” Your head whipped up to see Jacob stand in front of you. Your smile fell when you saw the busted lip and the blood flowing freely. “Sorry, I didn’t come in earlier.” “Don’t think about that, what happened to you?” you rushed to his side and sat him down in one of the chairs, quickly going to the open sign and flipping it. “Asshole at school.” He said with a shrug. “Isn’t the first time, won’t be the last.” You were seething. “Jake, you… Hang on, I’ll get you something to clean off with.” You rushed to the back, found a hand towel and wet it, handing it to him as soon as you came back and sat down in front of him. “Thanks.” “Jake, listen to me. Who was he, why did he do that, and do I need to kill him?” You asked seriously. He shook his head. “It’s the dickhead Spencer. He’s… Well, yeah. He’s that. I guess I sat in his chair. Or he thinks I’m gay. It could all of the things.” You pursed your lips. You might only be 25 years old, and you may have only known Jacob for six months, but you felt protective of him. “Call your dad. When’s the break?” He glanced at the clock. “In… Like two minutes.” He scrolled on his phone, stopping with a finger hovering over the call-button. “Why?” “I’m about to beat this bitch up.” You said firmly, dusting your fingers from flour. “You’re coming with me, point him out.” He called his dad as he stood up. “Uh, dad? So… I might get in trouble. Not like, that kind of trouble again, but like… Normal teen trouble? At school? You should get over here. Like…” He looked at you and swallowed. “I’m a little scared of Y/N. She’s about to rip a kid a new one for punching me. Anyway, bye!” he hung up. “Voicemail.”
You stalked to the school parking lot, hair whipping around your face in the wind, Jacob trailing after you, and he nodded to a red-headed, slightly plump kid, who was laughing with a group of other boys. You were ready to throw some fucking hands.
“YOU!” You marched over to him, while Jacob stood back, watching it unfold. “Who the hell do you think you are?” you began, the kid stumbling back a few paces and the verbal smack-down began.
-----------
Andy hated voicemails like that. He hated that his first thought was not again, and he drove faster than he probably should’ve to reach the school in record time. When he pulled over, he saw Jacob standing, eyes locked on a woman, who was clearly angrily gesturing and speaking loudly to the asshole of a kid, Spencer, who looked like he was about to cry. Andy got out of the car quickly and almost jogged to Jacob’s side, clocking the busted lip. “What the hell happened to you?” He asked, taking Jacob’s face in his hands. “I’m fine dad, seriously.” He glanced at the woman again. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about, because Y/N seems to be doing a great job telling him off.” He pointed to her, and Andy frowned. “Wait, that’s Y/N?” “Yeah.” “I thought she was in your year!” He said, watching her poke Spencer in the chest with a finger. “Nah, she’s like… 25, but super cool. She plays DND and stuff. She’s like my mom friend.” “She’s a mom?” Andy could almost hear Jacob roll his eyes. “No, dad, a mom friend.” “Kid, I have no idea what that means.”
“If you ever even look at him again, I’ll wreck you faster than you can scream mommy.” Andy overheard the last of the conversation – or yelling – from Y/N, before she turned on her heels and walked straight to Jacob, cupping his face in her hands. The gesture made Andy’s stomach go into knots. “Listen to me, you’re getting free muffins for the rest of the year from even tolerating being in the same room as that fucking wombat.” You said, wiping your thumb across Jacob’s cheek. Andy was reeling. He watched Spencer run inside of the school and didn’t see her turn to him. “You’re Mr. Barber, I presume.” He was about to answer when he finally looked at her.
She was beautiful. He knew beauty when he saw it. Her hair was flowing around her face, her eyes were burning into him, and her lips, fucking hell, her lips made him feel dizzy. She radiated confidence. She was wearing a blue sundress, covered largely by a black apron that in turn, was covered in flour, and he had never in his life felt this attracted to a person before. He swallowed thickly when he noticed the tattoos littering her arms, and the one, that poked out from her collarbone to her shoulder, only interrupted by the strap of her dress made his heart thump heavily in his chest. “Barber, yes. I.. Am Andy.” He swallowed thickly and noticed Jacob grin like a Cheshire cat. “Well, Barber, Andy, prepare yourself to go to the principal’s office.” “Why, did you punch the kid?” He asked, honestly a little worried. She looked terrifying, despite her smaller stature and flour in her hair. She shook her head. “No, but I did accidentally say nobody messes with my kid and called the kid an asshole, that was tired of shitting, and that if he ever tried to touch my kid again, I’d rip his arms from his body and stuff them up his ass.” She turned her head to see the very angry face of the vice-principal. “Shit.” “Will you follow me, Mr. Barber, Miss?” She told him through tight lips. Y/N followed as well, clearly ready to face whatever wrath a principal had to dish out. Andy couldn’t stop looking at her, her entire aura was just confidence and care; he cleared his throat several times to get rid of the damned dry spot, that suddenly appeared at the same time as Y/N had cupped Jacob’s cheeks.
They both stepped into the office, and when she stood next to him, Andy realized just how short she was in comparison to him. He easily towered a head above her. “I don’t appreciate siblings telling students off, Mr. Barber.” He cocked an eyebrow at the principal. “Siblings?” he asked, slightly confused. The principal pointed at Y/N, who laughed. “Oh, no, I’m not related.” She winked at Andy. “Yet.” He spluttered. She turned back to the principal. “And someone has to tell them off, or nobody will. Seriously, do you not a have a zero-bullying policy in this hellhole?” Andy snickered under his breath.   “Miss, that’s very inappropriate…” “No, I’ll tell you what’s inappropriate.” Y/N cut the principal off. “That someone can punch another human being and face zero repercussions. Zero bullying, my ass, you’re literally enforcing the bullying by not acting. I have no respect for you or anything you have to say to me, as long as you allow that to happen in your school, Mrs.” Andy cleared his throat, when the principal opened her mouth to retort. “I agree. My son has done nothing” (well, he hoped) “to warrant this. Y/N did nothing more than stand up for my son, which is needed since the school decided not to.” “Mr. Barber, I can assure you…” “You can assure me of nothing.” He said with a smile. It was the same smile he wore when he delivered his final statements in court. “I refuse to be called in here for my son, when he’s the one bleeding. Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Stevensen.” He turned on his heel and gestured for Y/N to follow him, leaving the principal absolutely dumbfounded.
“Am I in trouble?” Jacob asked in the second, they stepped outside. Andy shook his head and wrapped his arm around Jacob, pulling him close. “No, kiddo, you’re not.” “Tell you what, I’ll get you a few muffins to take back, okay?” Y/N said. “Come, I was going to close early anyway.” Jacob practically jumped out of Andy’s arms and ran after Y/N, talking animatedly with his hands as they walked. Andy furrowed his brows; he hadn’t seen Jacob like this in a while, and it warmed his heart a little. He quickly followed them into the bakery, and was immediately feeling comfortable – it smelled of chocolate and fresh bread, while the walls were covered in personal art (he noticed a few drawings from Jacob hung on the wall as well), and he sat down in the chair, that Jacob pointed him to.
“Jake, what will it be today? Walnut muffins, chocolate chip cookies, something dangerous or something unexpected?” She asked seriously. “I’ll cry if you give me anything with chili in it.” He answered with a grin. You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I might be scary, but I’m not evil.” You winked at Andy, who almost choked on thin air. “Unexpected it is, huh?” You kept your eyes on Andy as you spoke, and he couldn’t help the small grin spread on his lips. “Yeah, unexpected is good.” Jacob answered, looking back and forth between Y/N and Andy, his eyes glowing with something Andy hadn’t seen in his son for a while: Hope.
  -----------------------
TAGLIST:  @acaceta @a-skov​ @angelmather1​ @cooldreamlandsandwich​ @doubletriplepowerbomb​ @est1887​ @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @fionnthebandersnacc​ @herroyalbubbliness​ @jeepgirls-stuff @keiva1000​ @kebabgirl67​ @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red​ @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler​ @pandaxnienke​ @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg​ @sleutherclaw​ @sofiebstar​ @summersong69​ @spookyboogyuniverse​ @stardusted26​ @thereisa8ella​ @timetraveller4​ @thatonechickhere​ @themanfromu​ @thelastpyle​ @tragicphoenix13​ @yourlocalhoney​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​     
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oreramar · 2 days ago
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Sometimes I think about that post about the “hate bouquet” that’s gone around a few times. It’s the one that starts off with someone asking how to say “I hate you” with a bouquet of flowers, as if barging into a flower shop with that particular request.
I’ve seen a couple different answers for it, too: stuff that goes into flower language symbolism and meaning, versus just a selection of flowers and fillers and so on that would be uncomfortable to hold (thorny rose stems) and messy to have (thick leaves packed in tight, sprayed with water, for ultimate mold production). I’ve thought of my own variations on the latter myself (springerei or some form of tree fern for shedding mess, etc), but the more I think on it the more I think that...you can’t do it.
Sure, there’s all the old flower language stuff. This flower is disdain, this flower is loathing, this flower is “take a long walk off a short dock, pal.” Thing is, next to none of that has survived into common knowledge - at best people associate red roses with romantic love, yellow with friendship, maybe white or pink with innocence or youth, perhaps a few other flowers specifically with funerals...but after that the meanings kind of fade into meaninglessness, and even those bounds aren’t absolute (ex: people here associate gladiolus with funerals, but to me and my mum they’re just really awesome traditional garden bed flowers). So if the recipient is fluent or has a special interest in it, then yeah, you can code that message in, but to most people orange lilies are just striking and beautiful and maybe someone’s favorite color or shape, not a declaration of seething hatred.
Sure, some flowers and greens and so on are thorny or very prone to molding up in bad conditions or producing messes, but here’s the thing: all cut flowers die eventually. All of them. And many of them die messily, with ugly brown spots and mush and mold and shedding of leaves and so on, again, especially in certain conditions. But we give them to people with all good intentions anyway, because the point isn’t that they’ll be perfect forever. The point is that they look really good at the moment, and that they’ll be something nice to have for a few days to a week or so.
Basically, I don’t think you can say “I hate you” with flowers, not when they culturally translate, almost unilaterally, to some form or flavor of “I love you,” “I care about you,” “I’m thinking of you,” “Thank you,” “I want you to have some brightness and color and beauty in your day.”
If you (or a character in a fic) really need to disguise your “I hate you” message in something that seems nice on the surface, make a card with as much glitter glued on as possible and tip some extra into the envelope. I suspect it’d be far more effective.
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real-jane · 23 hours ago
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an olive branch
[steve rogers x reader]
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summary: you’ve reached your breaking point at work and steve wants to help you find a solution. but first… pizza.
words: 2.1k
warnings: none. established relationship, no use of y/n.
a/n: thanks to @mumbles411 for this idea! Here’s the original ask: ‘There's always the old 'comforting someone after a bad day' thing. Especially if they already hate their job. I've been there and would have loved Steve or Bucky to be there for picking me up.’ enjoy! 🥰
You’re almost an hour late getting home, and Steve paces the living room with his phone in hand, talking himself out of calling you again. You answered the first time–hi baby, I’m so sorry, I missed my train–and then your call dropped. Likely, you were on the platform and reception was never good down there, but that isn’t much comfort to him considering you sounded so frantic.
When your key slots into the lock, Steve beats you to the punch and rips open the door. You practically fall into his arms. 
“Mmm,” you groan, burying yourself in his chest. “Never been so happy to see you.”
“Bad day?” He draws circles on your lower back.
“Awful. I feel like a broken record, and nobody is listening.” Your sniffle is unmistakable. “How do I keep doing this every day? It’s going to break me.”
“Hmm. Take your shoes off, dove. You hungry?”
“Oh god,” you sigh. Steve steadies you as you toe off your shoes. 
“You forgot to eat, huh.”
“Didn’t have time! Three people called out sick, even Pietro was taking orders. I think I could eat a whole pizza by myself.”
“Your wish is my command.” He eases your bag from your shoulder, takes your coat, and then pats your butt in the direction of the bedroom. “Get cozy, okay?” Steve chuckles as you shuffle away to do as he says, disappearing into the comfy space to find the pajamas he had laid out on the bed after doing laundry.
“How was your day, baby?” you call.
“Boring,” he replies, typing your favorite pizza order into the delivery app. “Missed you. Did laundry. Not much going on (as far as potential fieldwork) so I caught up on some paperwork.” He’s been home for longer stretches, lately, which he has enjoyed immensely, especially because he can do the frankly outrageous amount of paperwork SHIELD sends over from the comfort of your sofa, while letting daytime tv drown the street sounds outside.
“You do a lot of paperwork for being America’s Ass.”
Steve laughs. “Excuse me, this ass belongs to you.”
“Lucky me.” You lean against the doorway. When Steve glances at you, your eyes are shining with unspent tears. He confirms the food order and tosses his phone onto the sofa. He takes his time meeting you at the threshold, but he can’t help brushing his thumbs over your cheeks.
“What’s got you so sad?”
“Steve–will you be brutally honest with me?” your voice breaks, and you curl your fingers into the front of his t-shirt.
“I don’t know about ‘brutal,’ dove, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Am I being unreasonable? I feel like the girl who cried wolf. All my coworkers seem to agree with me, but I’m the only person willing to say something–it makes me feel like I’m overreacting, but I can’t get strung along anymore.”
“You’re in the right,” he soothes. “Do you wanna sit on the sofa? You’ve been upright all day.”
“I don’t know if my knees bend.”
“I can help.” Steve loops an arm behind your knees and lifts you. You pretend to be aghast that he would do such a thing, but you kiss his cheek. He sits down, keeping both arms wrapped around your waist. “Let me ask you a question. Yeah?”
You snuggle against his chest and nod. “Shoot.”
“What’s the worst that can happen if you quit?”
“Well… Can’t afford my half of rent, for one thing–”
“Money aside.”
“I can’t not think about money. When you grow up without it, it’s everything.”
Steve nods. He does know a thing or two about that. “Okay. You’re right. You have concerns about paying your bills, it’s a legitimate worry. What else?”
“Who’s gonna speak up if I’m not there?”
“Dove, somebody is gonna have to find their voice. It can’t be up to you to save the place.”
“...says Captain America,” you snort.
“I have a team. It’s not my sole responsibility, and I couldn’t do it if I didn’t surround myself with people who put in equal effort. Right? I’m hard to kill, but I don’t fly. I’m bad with computers, never shot an arrow in my life, and when I get angry, I just get flushed.” You giggle at that. “But you’re carrying the worries of every person you work with. It’s unsustainable. You said it yourself–it’s too much.”
“I know,” you sigh. “But we’ve all gotten so close dealing with this bullshit.”
“Are you worried they won’t talk to you if you leave?”
“I guess I am.”
“Don’t think that’s likely; for one thing, Wanda would kill you if you didn’t go to the farmer’s market with her on Tuesdays.”
You smile. “True.”
“And we can still go there for drinks anytime you want. But not pizza–”
“Because it’s not ‘real New York pie’, yeah yeah,” you parrot the phrase he’s said to you a million times. “Where did you order from, by the way?”
“Sweetheart,” he scoffs, “the only place in the city.”
You snort. “You’re such a snob.”
“What’s the worst that will happen if you stay?”
“I’ll have a mental breakdown. I was… researching outpatient programs the other night when you found me out here super late.”
Steve kisses your forehead like he might soothe all the pain from your mind. “Oh, dove. You can’t live like this.”
“I don’t know how to leave! I have to find something else first, or it doesn’t make sense–and do you know how hard it is to find a job in this fucking economy?” You swipe your hands under your eyes furiously.
“Or–no, listen.” He kisses you, leveling his eyes with yours. You nod, but tears stream down your face. “Or… you put in your two weeks. We take a month to get you rested up. Go to a Yankees game or two. And then you can choose something which isn’t gonna drain the life out of you.”
“I don’t have enough saved up.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got you covered.”
“No, Steven–”
He tips your chin up. “Stop. I’m not keeping score, here. You’re my girl, this is what people do when they have a life together.”
You hug him so tight. “You’re sure.”
He wraps you in his arms. “Yes. And… if you realize what would make you the most happy is to sit on the balcony and paint neon cityscapes, while drinking Celestial Seasonings tea out of business, then I support you.”
“Nooo–I’m not gonna sit around while you have to do the work to pay for our life!”
“You contribute in other ways. I’d kill every plant in this place if it weren’t for you.”
“What would America say if they knew you fell for a plant lady?”
“I am asked about you in every interview, and have been since you came to the Smithsonian opening with me. I think America’s in love with you, too.”
“Awe,” you grin, pressing your fingers into his scalp with a loving scritch. “I don’t think I can make a decision tonight.”
“Perfectly reasonable. No rush. You want a bath?”
You appear genuinely conflicted for choice. “But… pizza.”
“Bath-pizza?”
You narrow your eyes. “I can’t decide if you’re brilliant or not.”
“One way to find out.” He kisses your temple. “Hey.”
“Hm?”
“I’m so sorry it’s been bad for this long. It’s terrible, and you don’t deserve it.”
You bite your lip. “Thank you, baby.”
“Why are you thanking me, huh? I’m right.” When he grins, you kiss him in annoyance. He loves when you do that, like you can’t let him get another word out so you seal his mouth with yours. What a punishment.
He carries you into the washroom and sets you on the counter, promptly handing you a sheet mask from your basket, and holding up two different bags of scented bath salts for you to pick between. You point, and he nods approvingly. He starts the bath water, and the buzzer sounds.
“Dinner!” You sprint for the button, but he’s faster; Steve catches your hips and slides between you and the front door.
“Get your butt in the bathtub, ma’am. Or I won’t hand-feed you pepperonis like a princess.”
“I missed the part where that was on offer,” you cackle. “But if I go get it, I’ll be able to eat all the olives off the top by the time I get back, so you won’t be disgusted by my taste in toppings.”
“You don’t know what I ordered. Maybe I got Canadian bacon.”
“I think that’s considered treason.”
“Get!” He spins you around and presses the button beside the door for the intercom. “Hi, if you wait inside I’ll bring you some cash.”
“Cool, thanks man!” The delivery driver is in for a great surprise.
Steve kisses the curve of your neck. “If you’re not up to your eyeballs in bubbles when I get back, I’m gonna eat all your olives myself.”
“Big talk from someone allergic to them.”
“Don’t push me.” He nips your earlobe, making you yelp.
“Fine! Be nice to me! See if I care.” You stick your tongue out at him, and leap away when he attempts to pinch your ass in retaliation. He can’t help the full-hearted laugh when you peek at him around the doorway innocently. “Just checking!” you coo. 
If anyone knew Captain America sat on his washroom floor, feeding his girlfriend a pizza he is most definitely allergic to, they’d probably believe it. Steve is nothing if not predictable, but he doesn’t mind being known for something he takes great pride in. A lot of what he does is duty, but bringing a smile to your face and easing your burden is something which brings him inordinate joy. You make all that pressure go away. With you, he is just a native New Yorker with strong opinions about crust style, who kills plants with almost impressive frequency and overtips delivery drivers by hundreds of dollars. So–not ordinary, but he doesn’t have to pretend on days he is down, if he wakes up next to your sweet face. But when you are hurting, he hurts by proxy. 
That night, he makes sure you have all the pizza you want (pepperoni by pepperoni, being very careful to avoid the olives and washing his hands thoroughly), while you slowly turn into a prune. Once you are tucked into bed and softly snoring, he eats his own pie sitting on the floor in the hallway outside your shared bedroom, and he ponders something he hasn’t thought about in a long time:
What if he retires? 
Sometimes when you wake up and can't fall back asleep, he rubs your back and tells you hypotheticals about a little cottage in the woods with a big garden, where you wouldn’t have to do anything but figure out how many carrots to use for dinner and get good at knitting. It always puts you right to sleep with a smile. Why does it have to be a pipe dream?
When he crawls into bed beside you, and your eyes open a bit, he kisses your brow. 
“Hi,” you murmur against his chest.
“Hello. You okay?”
“Mmm.” You loop your arm under his so you can pull him even closer. Steve slips his legs between yours. “You’re very comforting.”
“Yeah?” He smiles against your hair.
“Yep. Never make me question lovin’ me.”
“Sleep, sweetheart. ‘M not going anywhere.”
You smash your cheek into his skin and you’re quiet for a minute. He almost misses your little declaration. “Gonna quit.”
“When?”
“T’morrow.”
“I’ll pick you up from work on the bike. Go out in style?”
You lift your head up enough to give him a blissful, sleepy smile. “Yes please.”
He presses his lips over yours gently. “I’ll be there.”
“Come in uniform?” 
“You really want them to feel bad,” he chuckles.
“Nah. I just like lookin’ at ya in spandex.”
“You can have that anytime.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure. If you want.” 
You return his gentle kiss. “Love you.”
“I love you, too, dove.”
Now, he has to find a cottage for the sweetest woman he’s ever known. Because you only make decisions like this when you’ve weighed all your options, and he wants to give you a more attractive alternative than another dead end job. Something to keep the sunshine in your cheeks, where you don’t spend a portion of your life worrying about him coming home safe.
Sam’s ready for the shield. You’re ready to quit your job. It’s time for Steve to make the call about his future, too… where he can put you in a bubble bath every night, and maybe join you, just because. The best possible life for his dove.
thanks for reading!
my masterlist - my marvel masterlist
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theminesbecraftin · a day ago
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Curious if Sapnap figures into Him and Me AU, you mentioned there were no visitors allowed I'd guess that means Sapanp didn't get to make his ultimatum?
/dsmp rp
Sapnap has never seen the conditions of the prison, and tries to mostly avoid the topic. Recall that although he later asked Sam to visit and Sam denied him (after Sam had barred visitors), on Sapnap’s first visit, he nearly didn’t go through with it. It took Sam’s encouragement before Sapnap decided to bite the bullet.
Consequently, although Sam’s consistent refusals (and sketchy isolation) have certainly made Sapnap antsy, he’s not exactly suspicious. Sam says Dream’s acting up? That he’s made escape attempts? Yeah, that sounds like Dream, alright.
Sapnap’s got that promise he wants to make still lingering over his head. But maybe this way, he won’t have to ever make it. Maybe the next time he sees Dream, it won’t be in prison at all: Dream will be better, and he’ll be free, and the ultimatum can stay only in Sapnap’s head.
Sometimes Sapnap anxiously talks to Sam—“he’s doing okay in there, right? He’s eating? Tell him from me—tell him I’ll see him when he’s out, I’ll be waiting for him.”
“Hey, Sam, if the wedding ever happens, you think Dream could get out on parole? Just for a day.”
When the ruckus with Quackity et al. happens, things change a bit: maybe Sapnap and Q have been distant, but Sapnap sure as hell isn’t going to take this lying down. He might even confront Sam himself.
But he doesn’t join the Anti-Sam Coalition, because Quackity is still awkward about him and Kinoko—Q doesn’t want to invite him to join a ~plot. Nor does Quackity quite trust Sapnap around the whole Dream situation. He’s not sure how he feels about Sapnap’s defensiveness, either. On the one hand, it’s nice to see Sapnap still cares. (But if he really cared, then why—)
Sapnap, as with most people on the server, only hears about the actual breakout too late to do pretty much anything.
He goes to stake out Dream’s armor. When Dream arrives to collect it, Sapnap asks him: “Why did you escape?”
Dream asks him, “Did you ever even try to visit?”
Sapnap is undeterred. “You should have stayed in, Dream. I—I have to kill you now.” To which Dream responds: “You know Sam took off Quackity’s fingers, right?”
Sapnap is taken aback at the non sequitur. He’s quiet for a second. Why is Dream bringing that up? And how does Dream know? Did Sam tell him?
Dream continues, nastily, “So, what do you think Sam did to me?”
Sapnap studies him. He looks thin. There are a few scars, but nothing too egregious. “What did he do to you?” he asks.
Dream laughs. “Tortured me,” he says. “I had to leave. So. What do you say? We could start over.”
Sapnap… isn’t sure what to say. On the one hand, there’s no proof Dream is telling the truth. It’s just the kind of dramatic tall tale he’d spin to make things complicated. On the other… Sapnap has no love lost for Sam at this point, that’s for sure, in stark contrast to Quackity.
In the end, he doesn’t join Dream, he doesn’t let Dream have the armor, but when Dream leaves, Sapnap doesn’t pursue. He… needs to talk to Q, he thinks.
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fencecollapsed · a day ago
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An Expanded Criticism of Perky’s Buds
Tomorrow is Nightmare Time day! I’m about to get negative but I’m gonna try to do it in a reasonable, genuine way, and then I’ll stop talking about it I promise!
If you follow me you know I don’t like Perky’s Buds very much. I think it’s the weakest Hatchetfield story overall. I don’t care who does like it, to each their own and good for you, enjoying things is great! There’s stuff in there I like, too. I’m not gonna say you’re wrong for liking it, not at all.
But seriously, once it goes live tomorrow, if I see more people making all critique of it out to be a feminist or shipping issue I will lose my fucking mind and that’s a promise. Thankfully this is a pretty small fanbase so I haven’t seen a ton of this, but I’ve seen enough to irritate me, and it’s enough to write this post to try and genuinely discuss it so. I hope y'all will hear me out.
The reflex to be defensive of a woman-led story that doesn’t feature her love interest is a fair one. It’s easy to see paulkins fans taking issue with Emma’s character in PB, or having been bummed that Paul didn’t make an appearance, and take it in bad faith. Baseline critiques don’t always expand on that kind of thing, it’s easy to see it as bitter shippers who wish Paul was around and don’t think Emma can hold her own in a story without him. I’m not gonna say there aren’t people like that, maybe there are. And yeah, that’s dumb. If your only problem with PB is that Paul wasn’t there, and thus there was no paulkins, that’s an issue. Think on that.
However, as someone interested in genuine analysis and critique, who took the time to think about why I didn’t enjoy Perky’s Buds and discuss it with multiple people, I want to make a genuine argument and explain what I and others really take issue with when it comes to Emma’s character in this story. It’s not about Paul. Emma is fully capable of carrying a story on her own, and Paul’s presence wouldn’t have made this story or Emma’s portrayal in it any better. I’ve talked to people who like Emma and don’t like paulkins who agree that PB is a bad story, and a bad Emma story particularly. It’s really not a shipping thing.
I’m not gonna talk much about the actual story writing here, because although I didn’t really like the story as a whole either, I find those things more preference based. I’m generally not a fan of The Animals Are Evil type stories, I wasn’t entertained by the nighthawks as villains, I would’ve preferred a story with the Metzgers as the central threat. A story just like this with a different lead probably wouldn't appeal to me regardless. Those are all me things, and I don’t particularly care about any of that in comparison to what I’m actually going to discuss.
The story itself isn’t the real problem, the lore isn’t the problem, the other characters aren’t really the problem, and Paul being gone isn’t the problem.
Emma’s wasted potential is. Hear me out.
Emma Perkins is a really compelling character. To me, she reads as someone with a history of running and avoiding things, being distant, being lazy. She skipped her hometown to get away and live for herself, and she avoided her family for a decade. She came back because her sister died and in her grief and regret was motivated to connect with the roots she had left, and build her own form of stability. Emma came back to a town she hates with an unfavorable reputation to live down, particularly with the family she has left. 
She’s a hard worker, willing to do what she has to even if she hates it, and when she can’t take it anymore she’ll find another way. She’s snarky and sarcastic and she doesn’t take shit. She’s driven by a goal she’s passionate about and has real emotional investment in. She cares more than she lets on. When caught in hardship she’s tenacious, she keeps going, even when she’s physically incapable she contributes to the solution. Even when it doesn’t work, Emma tries.
At the base of her character, Emma has a strong, emotionally driven motivation, and interesting, established relationship dynamics to play off and expand on that haven’t been explored much yet (particularly with the Houstons). There’s a LOT of potential for her in a story not focused on her romantic relationship.
Perky’s Buds wastes that potential.
By conceit, PB was clearly never going to be a character-focused story. It’s a stoner horror-comedy with violently murderous psychic birds blasted on weed that ends with Nick Lang looking right into the camera and saying “damn that was fucked up, huh?” That’s the tone it’s going for, the focus is the absurd premise. And that’s not inherently a problem, that kind of story can be fun, stoner comedies can be fun! There are really fun story-focused, more comedic episodes of NMT, they’ve shown they can do it well. It’s about the execution, though, and this was a poor execution, and a detriment to the character at its center. 
The lead of a story like this kind of has to be flattened out, just by nature of how writing works. Emma isn’t the right character for that kind of thing. She deserves to star in a character-focused story that actually explores her and the relationships she’s trying to build. PB isn’t that, and was never going to be that, and that’s what the real problem is.
Admittedly, I think saying Emma is out of character in PB is a bit of a stretch. She is fairly consistent with her other appearances, (almost) nothing she does or says feels out of line with what we’ve understood about her previously. Her tenacity and refusal to take shit especially is on full form here, just adjusted for the situation. I love that! I particularly like that her and Ziggs’ ideas to deal with the birds are mostly really stupid, because they’re stoned the whole time, but they don’t stop trying! That tracks, that’s Emma. Her ideas backfire when she’s sober, too, and she keeps pushing as long as she can. It works.
The problem is really that this is an incredibly flat version of her character. She’s hollow, drained of her emotional core - because it’s not being explored here, so what’s the point? We learn almost nothing new about her outside of rudimentary info like she’s a dog person, she likes donuts, she’s a feminist. She goes through no change. Her motivation is stripped down to it’s barest form - the farm is basically all she cares about. It’s the focus of the story, so that’s a reasonable choice on the surface, but when certain writing decisions present Emma as explicitly not a hard worker who didn’t do much to earn the farm in the first place, it’s a massive detriment to both her character and the viewer’s ability to invest in the conflict.
Let’s talk magic soil. I’ve talked before about how much I hate the way PB handles this bit of lore, particularly in this post. Emma bold-faced admitting that she and Ziggs are terrible farmers and rely on the magic soil to make their weed good not only paints her as lazy - which as I’ve said, she is not - it makes me, the viewer, not really care if they lose their magic farm. They make a point to have Emma say multiple times that this farm is her dream, she spent her 20s working on non-magic farms, we’re supposed to see her as passionate about this. Farming weed is a big interest of hers, she should take it seriously. She should not be as bad a farmer as she was a barista if the viewers are supposed to believe this, let alone invest in the conflict.
I don’t buy that Emma’s been growing and selling weed since high school, has had this passionate dream for over a decade, and has experience working on non-magic pot farms, and never improved at her craft and doesn’t care to, because she can let the magic soil carry her slack. I don’t like that this story wants me to buy that. In terms of active character decisions, that’s what feels the most wrong to me, and it could’ve been so easily fixed by just making her unaware the soil was magic at all.
The land inheritance plays a little into this too. I don't mind it on its own - she still worked through college to unlock it, and we know that Emma’s family had ties to the Metzgers (which is a very compelling bit of lore they could’ve done something interesting with and didn’t, but I digress). It makes sense, though it could've done with some expanding. Combined with the magic soil pulling all the weight for Emma and Ziggs, though, it serves more to paint Emma as spoiled and lazy and that’s not engaging. The conflict feels hollow because Emma doesn’t come off as a pulled-herself-up-by-the-bootstraps farmer protecting the dream she fought for, she comes off as entitled, not wanting to lose what she got largely through chance and minimal effort.
My problems here are exacerbated because there’s not a single mention of Jane.
Prior to PB, the farm never felt like Emma’s primary character goal to me. Maybe I misread it, but it always felt more representational - something concrete for her to work towards that makes sense as her version of stability. Emma’s character to me has always felt more focused on her self worth and her grief, her goal to connect with her family, make something of herself and make Jane proud. That’s what the pot farm represents - Emma’s not Jane, her dream isn’t a run of the mill job, a husband, and kids. She can change course, put down roots and work for something stable without giving up who she is. It’s her version of a steady, stable goal. And Jane’s death is part of her motivation.
With no mention of Jane at all, and Emma’s motivation reduced entirely to her farm, the emotional core of her character is wiped out. Looking at this story on its own, it almost feels as though, if Jane hadn’t died, PB!Emma would have eventually come back to Hatchetfield anyway. For the magic soil, because that’s the only way she’s capable of growing good weed, apparently. We know the context so we know that’s not the case, but these are standalone stories. It’s still important to keep that tone of her character consistent. 
Even though these are different timelines and things will play out differently, there has to be and has been consistencies between appearances. The characters wouldn’t be recognizable otherwise. Emma hates Hatchetfield and came back because her sister died, that’s a big part of her character, and it’s not remotely present. Even if she’s supposed to have “grown” to not hate the town, that should be acknowledged, it should be shown somehow. That’s a big enough part of her that it can’t just be dropped, that kind of growth shouldn’t be done offscreen. 
Jane is a big enough part of Emma’s character that she can’t just be ignored. Jane’s absence is the detrimental one. Not the love interest. And Jane’s never even actually appeared in a story with Emma. I think that says something.
Cutting Emma off entirely from her established character ties (Jane and the Houstons most notably) and dropping her in the middle of a story full of brand new characters - a few of which were name-dropped before, but in relation to another character - makes her feel disconnected. 
The only positive relationship she has in this story is with Ziggs, and like my pal @andie-cake said once, it’s not really any stronger of a relationship than “employee with a really chill boss”. They could do something more interesting with their dynamic going forward, but for the time being there’s really not much to it. As a comedic duo they're.... fine? They have good moments but nothing really standout, excepting tig 'ol biddies. Their personalities aren't defined and different enough here to have a really strong comedic chemistry. It all just adds to the feeling of this story being completely drained of emotional or social connection for Emma. 
And this is admittedly nit-picky, but it’s a little odd to me that both Ziggs and Grace Chasity, whose establishing name-drops were in relation to Alice, were not introduced in a story with Alice. It makes them feel disconnected, too.
To compare, Witch in the Web is another story with one familiar character mostly surrounded by brand new ones. Pamela and Webby, however, were both previously established with connections to Hannah, and the notable absence of other strong ties Hannah has (Lex and Ethan) was acknowledged and explained. It felt less jarring, and it added to the tone. In Perky’s Buds, Emma’s just. There. Surrounded by people we’ve never seen before, and didn’t even know she knew, without a single mention of the people she’s established to know. Again, another thing that’s not inherently a problem, I just don’t think it was done very well here.
Another quick comparison, Jane’s a Car is interestingly similar to PB on a few story levels, although JAC is character-based. That’s why it’s good, because it uses its premise to explore Tom and his grief and his relationships with his family. 
That’s what PB should have done. If they’d given Tom a story with the focus more on its premise than how it could use said premise to explore his character, and additionally cut him off from his family with no explanation, the problem would’ve been the same. It would’ve been even more jarring. Tom’s not as comedic a character as most of the others, he doesn’t belong at the center of a story that would reduce him to his most basic archetype, he needs to be explored.
Emma is more comedic a character than Tom is, for sure, but it’s the same thing. She’s compelling, she deserves exploration. She’s not Hidgens or Ted.
As much as Hidgens and Ted are popular characters, I think it’s safe to say they’re examples of more comedy-based ones. That’s why Hatchetfield Ape-Man works, because those two are already more simplified. That doesn’t mean they can never be explored in greater depth - Frank read as purely comedic before Daddy and that story expanded him well - it just means they lend themselves more naturally to comedic and story-based plots than, again, Emma or Tom. 
What I’m saying is, Perky’s Buds - by necessity of the kind of story it is - flattens Emma’s character into a one-track-minded, lazy stoner archetype version of herself. It touts itself as being an Emma story without Paul, but doesn’t bother to actually explore her character or do anything interesting with her. That’s the problem myself and the people I’ve talked to have had with it.
The portrayal of Ziggs is affected by the nature of the story too, though it’s much less bothersome to me since this is their first appearance. There’s room for them to be expanded, whereas with Emma her existing, interesting character is shoved into a box to make room for the story. It's still worth noting, though, because if you ask me, a story co-starring a woman separated from her s/o for the first time and a nonbinary person isn’t as progressive as it sounds on paper when they’re not allowed to really... be interesting, y’know?
This is more of an opinionated tangent but the fact that both leads are presented so flat and archetypal makes the bits of feminist, progressive dialogue in the script feel... a little insulting to me. Not the idea of Emma being a feminist, obviously, I’m all for that, just the way it’s presented. This is part of the archetype the story leaves her as and it just feels... off. 
A story obviously doesn’t need to be about feminism or women’s issues to include feminism as a theme or a character detail, and it doesn’t necessarily need to be empowering (which PB isn’t, imo, it's jarringly cruel to Emma with very little to balance it out). I just think the dialogue about it here is unnatural and cringeworthy. Particularly the “last words” bit. If you like this moment, power to ya, fuck the patriarchy, absolutely. But to me, this doesn’t feel like a genuine or empowering final moment for Emma after the events of the story. It feels like a punchline. A mocking one. At best, it feels like the two men who wrote it patting themselves on the back for doing the absolute bare minimum.
I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way, at least to some extent, because I’ve seen a divide on whether or not the feminism as it’s presented is meant to be genuine or not.
The take I’ve seen is it’s meant to be a commentary on “girlboss business feminism”. Hiding behind feminism to deflect harmful business practices, that kind of thing. I don't think they were going for that at all, it's not nearly a present enough theme to read that way. It'd be an awful commentary if they were, anyway. For one, Emma’s not some rich CEO. Despite the issues I have with the setup, her business is absolutely self-made, she wasn’t handed everything on a silver platter. In addition, Emma’s less savory actions are largely justified by the narrative, at least the way I’m reading it. Not all of it, maybe not the early bird killing, but once the story devolves into the birds being actively evil - and that’s the Entire Conceit of the story - I think it’s really pointless to assign morality to the conflict. My thoughts on morality in Hatchetfield are complicated, honestly, but that's a discussion for another time.
This is ignoring the total hypocrisy of the republican talk while Emma's apparently a gun-toter herself but I don't care enough to get into that honestly I just think it's weird. Like, if they weren't going for some kind of commentary why did they do that, and if they were, they don't do anything with it so it's not effective.
Regardless. We're supposed to root for Emma here, even if she loses in the end. That's how a lot of these stories go. Emma’s not even the right character for this kind of commentary regardless. I don’t remotely think that’s what they were doing, but I kind of understand that perspective, because the feminist aspect doesn’t feel genuine to me.
Again, if it does feel genuine to you, great! I wish I felt the same, and even so this point is smaller for me. It really just adds to how hollow I think the story feels.
Tangents aside, let’s wrap this up. The point is, the idea that PB is bad because Paul is absent is an incredibly shallow one. Emma has plenty of potential as a lead without him, his absence is not the detriment to her character in this story. If any absence is, it’s Jane’s. Give Emma a story without her love interest, absolutely! I want that for her, I want her to be delved into outside of Paul. But to do that, they’ve gotta give her a story that’s character-focused, and actually has the space to explore what’s compelling about her instead of reducing her to the flattest, most uninteresting archetype of herself. I love Emma so much and I WANT her to have a good solo story that actually shows investment in her and treats her with dignity and PB just isn’t that.
There’s my essay, I hope I’ve cleared up at least what my legitimate problems with this story were. Feel free to respond and discuss this with me, I'd like to hear your thoughts! Outside of this I don't plan to actively get into this story much again, though.
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knowlesian · 10 hours ago
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like the research nerd i am, i decided to get together all the evidence (aka: all the scenes where izzy and ed talk about death, stede’s or otherwise, since you always need the whole data set on this kind of thing to sort out the answer) to try to suss out if the text tells us whether izzy knows about ed’s fine line on killing.
just to make it easy on myself, i’ll start with breaking down the scenes first, in order from e3-6.
e3 - 
- izzy asks if “we” should attack/kill/feed to the sharks stede and co; this could imply ed would take part, but it could also mean the rest of the crew sans ed, so inconclusive.
e4 - 
- the talking tough way ed mentions the spaniards dying seems a bit odd if izzy knows ed never kills directly/feels morally weird about the subject, but also inconclusive.
- “what’s the plan”/“the ushze” conversation about the revenge’s crew is again on the ambiguous end; it doesn’t really give us much on who would be doing the executing.
- until a little later! when izzy casually orders ivan and fang to kill the crew for him. this doesn’t give us much re: ed, but it does show izzy offloads his own killing as well and isn’t the Ship Executioner as a matter of course.
- during their first conversation about stealing stede’s identity ed implies he’ll be doing the killing, and izzy doesn’t appear to assume otherwise/show any surprise or shock ed would break a decades-long rule.
(which to me is the first potentially slam dunk piece of evidence: the natural response to finding out something like that would be anything but easy acceptance, if izzy was aware this would be the severest of breaks in pattern for ed. it’s like... we all have that one friend who orders the same thing every single time they go to a restaurant, and if they ever switch it up people go OH SHIT, THO. this is more than that— this is like a lifelong vegan ordering a whole rack of ribs without warning. essentially: when you know somebody’s rock-solid established patterns and they up and break one, you don’t go yeah sure okay. i have no shock.)
e5 -
- ed tells fang to kill the french captain for him and again there’s no shock or indication this is unusual, so it’s definitely not just izzy doing ed’s killing either way.
e6- 
- opens with izzy’s internal monologue that after two weeks of spending 24/7 living up each other’s assholes he’s “beginning to suspect” ed himself isn’t going to kill stede. which seems odd, if izzy has any idea ed doesn’t kill— why would he be surprised ed’s getting cold feet at all? and if it took him two weeks to be like, wait. ed’s maybe NOT gonna kill this guy??? even though he knew killing was a line for ed, that seems a weird way to say that/approach this situation. 
(on a formatting note: the fact that this is the single moment of internal thoughts given as voiceover/monologue on the series marks it out as important and worth thinking deeper about. the writers made sure to establish even in the privacy of his own head, izzy isn’t thinking to himself anything but ‘huh. maybe ed... isn’t going to do it????’ and that it took him literally two weeks to suss out ed’s flirting, not getting ready to do a murder. 
they also juxtapose the monologue with ed being obviously flirty and enjoying himself— so obviously that Fang and Ivan can see it—  so on the emotional intelligence/reading the room and seeing things he doesn’t want to see side: if izzy’s been with ed for years and it took him two weeks to notice ed was playing footsie vs plotting murder, that’s another mark against the idea that he can read ed like a book.)
- then we get a direct line into the scene where izzy tells ivan and fang ed is for sure gonna kill stede, he promised. so unless we’re meant to take away that izzy is aware this would be huge for ed and is simultaneously not running cover/setting up things to pressure ed before he ever offers to do it himself (or even thinks he’ll have to!) this feels like more evidence he has no idea. (because the use of internal monologue just told us izzy isn’t lying to ivan and fang here: he 100% expects ed to do it, and not that he’ll want or need izzy to step in.)
- which leads into izzy bringing ivan and fang in to push ed. (and being a bit of an unreliable narrator once again, as he speaks for ivan and fang despite the earlier scene where they push back on him and don’t agree with his desire move ed along.) if we read in that izzy knows ed doesn’t kill, this positions izzy as the kind of skilled manipulator that just doesn’t scan with the rest of what we see from him. the kind of sneaky/fucked up you have to be to know ed’s line here and only implicitly threaten that image while also bringing in fang to remind ed about the dog doesn’t fit with izzy’s blaring sirens/neon sign mode of persuasion. izzy sort of just says FUCKIN DO THE FUCKIN THING I WANT! FUCK!!! he’s not a sneak around corners dude. if izzy 100% thinks ed kills people then this is a scene of him getting more and more impatient about annoying foot dragging.
- then we get to: “i’ll happily end it.” / “no, it’s my mess. i’ll do it.” izzy only volunteers to kill stede for ed after two weeks of waiting and after pulling in ivan and fang and still getting nothing, and again he expresses no surprise or doubt at ed’s continued promises he doesn't need the assist, either verbally or physically. 
(this is also the only time izzy offers to kill for edward, in the entire run of the show, outside “you’re not doing this. so i must” before the duel begins. izzy says over and over he absolutely expects ed to kill and isn’t assuming it would be hard or a break from pattern, and only once in ten whole episodes offers to do it for him. these are very careful writers: i can’t imagine this is a mistake.)
- this is immediately followed in the same conversation by izzy saying “send him to doggy heaven” as a followup to the offer which... again, as ever, makes me die laughing. but also shows us: izzy still has zero real doubts ed himself is gonna do this, and has once again not acted like somebody who thinks this is hard for ed, or a change in pattern. he offered, but by the end of the conversation izzy is back to: yeah, of course ed will do it.
so, my baseline argument: just given what we see in the text, it seems far more likely izzy doesn’t know ed doesn’t kill. 
it’s either that or he’s somehow aware but not in any way confused/shocked/even vaguely suspicious that ed is changing this long-held rule out of nowhere, and is comfortable using it against ed despite knowing in a way that positions him as more of a manipulator and not just a guy trying to hurry ed along and get rid of stede, already. 
beyond that izzy never mentions ed’s choice not to directly kill a single time, even in his own brain or when telling ed he wishes he was dead in the finale; it seems a huge writing oversight to leave that out, if izzy is trying to provoke ed and/or prove his worth while enforcing what he assumes is ed’s natural state. if izzy understands ed is not actually that legend and in fact uses the legend to keep people from noticing what’s behind it on a practical level, shoving the legend in his face and saying it’s all ed is doesn’t scan.
and what’s more, we know ed has put on a good pirate show. he’s cut off toes before, he's maimed people, and he takes parts in raids just like everybody else: to be blunt, there are a hell of a lot of ways to hurt people reeeeeal bad without directly killing them. if you shoot or stab or whack somebody real hard and leave them there and they die like, twenty minutes later when you’re already gone, that suits ed’s definition of not killing just fine. there’s a lot of hard to notice ground between ‘leaves to die’ and ‘doesn’t kill’.
which leads me into the human nature argument, and the fact that the show establishes ed is the kind of person who thinks about how to conjure and use fear to control people, and thus needs to understand people in order to accurately assess their fears. on ed’s side, if you make yourself known to be the sort of man who cuts off poor bastards’ toes for a laugh or sets ships aflame and all that, people don’t ask themselves: wait, does this guy kill people though? 
it’s part of why we have the whole ‘but he seemed like such a nice/quiet/etc guy!’ trope whenever somebody does some fucked up shit. most people don’t notice a lot happening around them, because they aren’t looking for it and don’t expect to see it. people fail to notice things on the scale from infidelity to a serial murder habit in their intimate circles alllll the time.
and then on izzy’s side, we are shown a real lack of emotional intelligence and/or social observational skills over and over. it takes him two whole weeks to even begin to suspect ed doesn’t want to kill stede at all, he can’t really improvise or adapt to any sort of situation that breaks with his expectations of how things should go, he can’t manage the crew the second ed isn’t around (pre-canon and in canon) or tell a mutiny is brewing even though everyone but pete disappears to go plan it, he can’t stop said mutiny once in progress, etc etc etc.
he’s also built up an image of ed that isn’t about who ed actually is, and then built his own career and image around being Blackbeard’s First Mate. we really have to think of things from izzy’s perspective: blackbeard is a legendary pirate, izzy came into his service when he was already a legend, and izzy’s concepts of the world do not seem to include “it’s cool if you don’t like to kill people”. we are given absolutely zero evidence izzy would consider that anything but a sign of horrifying weakness, and lots of evidence he thinks ed is someone who does kill.
given all the evidence, everything we know of izzy’s character and how he processes the world/ed, and the fact that these are very good writers who know human nature and how to craft a story, i would say with a fair amount of certainty it’s more likely izzy has no idea ed draws that line.
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llunarbee · a day ago
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-> please keep in mind that anyone under the age of fifteen (15) isn’t welcomed on my blog! Please refrain from interacting with me if you are. I am not responsible for the content you consume if you do read my works, you’ve been warned. Also, please check my pinned post!
-> there’s a lack of Denki fics and I don’t understand why-
-> work below contains; street racer!denki, mention of smoking (cigarettes, joint), nsfw blurb under the cut (degradation, name calling, pussy eating if you squint? I don’t really know how to write that correctly yet so-), Denki just wants to have fun <3
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ʚɞ he’s a little, how should I say? crazy? Yeah, he’s crazy.
ʚɞ let me elaborate a little, kind of like the other two he lives for the thrill but in a much more.. dangerous way? like he’ll put both of your lives at risk and won’t give two shits/wont realize it because he’s having fun and he’d think you are too.. when you’re just pissing your pants.
ʚɞ don’t worry, he’ll take great care of you after he’s out of the little world inside his head. Also, just like bakugo, Denki will drive his supra on public roads and it’s not like cops can miss it.. it’s bright yellow with two black lightning bolts on both sides. You best believe he taunts the police too, they know him by the sound of his car at this point.
ʚɞ Denki loves having you in the car during races, loves knowing that you trust him and his skills enough to be there.
ʚɞ also the king of asking for rewards but he’s patient enough to wait until you’re both home to do anything, he’ll also often end up fucking you to sleep <3
“Look at you, such a desperate little slut.” Denki smirked, hands gripping at your sides hard enough to leave a bruise of two, not that you minded. “Den’.. please.” He loved teasing you, loved leaving light kisses and bite marks on your body in places only you both knew of. “Use your words.”
You let out a frustrated sigh, he could practically see the desperation in your eyes and even if he wanted to indulge you.. denki loved having you at his mercy.
“Just- i want your mouth.. please!” He smiled at you, thumbs hooking through the hem of your panties to pull them down your legs before throwing them somewhere on the floor of your shared bedroom. “Wasn’t that hard, now was it?” He chuckled, slowly licking up your slit after he lowered himself down to your slick-covered cunt. You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips when he sucked your clit into his mouth, throwing your head back at the sensation. He groans before release it from his mouth with a pop, drinking in all of your little moans and gasps at his every movement.
Denki eats pussy for his own pleasure. While he does care about making you feel good and making you cum, he does it more for himself and that often ends up with him accidentally overstimulating you, again, not that you minded.
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strwberri-milk · a day ago
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The Weight of His World
AO3 || Uni!AU || Kaeya x Reader || Fluff, Cuddling || 1,711 words
After an exhausting day you decide to collapse in your boyfriend's apartment, showing you a slightly different side to him than you expected.
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You exhaustedly make your way over to the apartment, unlocking the door sloppily before dropping your bags at the foot of the couch and collapsing into the couch. Thankfully, the blankets you left on the couch from last time are still here. You use them to wrap around your body, breathing in their scent and sighing happily. 
Eventually, the door opens again. You turn over to look at the intruder, not even sure if you could properly defend your boyfriend’s place against a criminal but when you see his telltale trench you roll back into the couch, muttering a welcome home. 
“Oh? Did God drop off an angel and forget them in my room, hmm?” he teases, walking over and pressing kisses against any piece of exposed skin he can find. 
“Quit teasing me I’m tired,” you whine, making him chuckle. 
“I’m not teasing you darling. Just stating the facts, now come to bed if you’re tired. Sleeping on the couch isn’t good for your back.” 
“Will you come with me?” you ask, giving him puppy eyes. He shakes his head and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the couch for now as he helps you up. 
“Can’t just yet. I have some things to finish. Just go to bed and I’ll get there when I get there, yeah?” 
You nod with a yawn, letting Kaeya help you to his bed. His hands start to work at you and you don’t even ask why until you feel weight getting lifted off your body. Kaeya pulls off your coat and sweater, hands slipping into yours to pull off your gloves. He presses kisses to your cheeks, chilled lips cooling off slightly overheated skin. 
“It’s cold outside, isn’t it?” he says softly, realising just how exhausted you are from how easily he pried your outside clothes off. 
“Yeah. Windy and snowy,” you respond, crawling under his covers and shivering a little before the heat of your body warms up his sheets. 
“I know I keep it colder in here but if you ever get too cold just turn up the thermostat, alright? I don’t mind.” 
You nod and feel him get off the bed, about to leave when you make a little noise. 
“Yes sweetheart? Is something wrong?” 
He’s at your bedside in an instant and you narrow your eyes a little at him. 
“Why are you being so nice? You haven’t made fun of me yet. Normally you would have jumped at the chance to.” 
Kaeya rests his hand against your forehead, frowning a little. 
“You seem warm. Just focus on getting better first, alright?” 
“I’m not sick,” you huff, burying further into his sheets. 
“I didn’t say you are but clearly you’re exhausted. If you want to, you can spend the night. I think you left some clothes here last time so I’ll go find them so you can change if you want.”
“Fine,” you relent, letting yourself relax into his sheets. 
When Kaeya sees you finally resting he begins to move around the room, pretending to hunt down your clothes. He knows exactly where he put the, hell he sat on his bed for an hour trying to pick out the best drawer in his dresser for you to inhabit. Sure, you’d only been dating a few months at this point but he couldn’t help but imagine more. 
Kaeya pulls out the casual outfit you left with him last night, setting it on the bed before giving you another kiss and leaving the room to let you rest. 
☆⋆∵。❀*⑅✧♔✧⑅*❀。∵*⋆☆
You awake a couple hours later, feeling much better. Glancing around for his clock, you find it to be just a little after six, tempted to fall back asleep after getting rest for the first time in what feels like forever. Groggily, your eyes begin to close again when you hear the distinctive sound of hissing. 
The sheets fall back as you sit up, the scent of food cooking wafting in slightly. A part of you wants to go and check out what’s happening, see if Kaeya’s cooking something or if he’s just doing some dishes. It’s something awfully domestic that you want to witness but as you step out of the bed and knock against your backpack you remember you have work to do. 
Sighing, you pull out your laptop and book, deciding that if he’s going to leave you alone for once then you might as well take advantage of it. Dully, your laptop screen glows with a blank document and you’re about to give up after what feels like eons of brainstorming when you hear a knock on the door. 
“Are you up?” Kaeya asks, voice uncharacteristically soft. 
“Yeah, I woke up a little while ago,” you respond. 
He comes in with a tray and a smile, sitting down next to you. 
“I looked through your bag while you were sleeping and I assumed you didn’t get yourself anything to eat. You usually pack lunch after all and I didn’t find it. Did you buy something?” 
A shake of your head confirms his suspicions and he shuffles around a little to get the tray in your lap instead of your laptop. 
“I’m not surprised you’re exhausted. You have a busy schedule and forgot something to eat. You have keys to my place, if you need to grab something before getting to class just come here since I’m closer than you are. Do you hear me?” 
He’s very insistent and you nod to get him off your case, still a little new to this side of him. Kaeya looks at you intently and you get to work eating whatever it is he made for you, not minding the taste. 
“I’m not going to drop dead, you don’t need to keep an eye on me like that Kaeya,” you tease, making him chuckle. 
“I know you aren’t. I just didn’t expect to see you so tired when I came back from the meeting. I didn’t even know you were coming over today.”
“I know. It was supposed to be a surprise,” you say with a pout, letting him pull you into his arms and press kisses to your neck. 
“Now why would you do that? I want time to prepare for your arrival and to spend as much time as I can with you. Even if you’re sick.” 
“If you think that I’m sick, why are you hanging onto me so tightly?” Despite how harsh your words may sound, you cuddle into his arms, letting him shower you in affection. 
“I don’t get sick, ever. And I spent all day thinking about you. Is that so bad?” 
He pins you underneath him and straddles your waist, holding your hands over your head. Your raise your brow curiously, wondering if he’ll continue. 
“You called me this morning but I didn’t pick up because I was in class. I had a busy day today so I wouldn’t be able to call you back until I got home.” He sounds pouty now, releasing your hands and sitting back a little without hurting you. 
“Didn’t you see my text? It wasn’t anything serious. I just missed you so I wanted to call you.” To assuage his dramatics you take one of his hands and press a kiss into his palm, letting him cup your face and staring up at him affectionately. 
“I know it wasn’t serious but I missed a chance to talk to my beloved. Can’t I be upset about that?” he mutters, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. 
“You’re making it sound like we’ve been married for years.” He barely lets the words leave your lips before he’s kissing you again, both his hands cupping your face. 
“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” 
His words make your heart beat hard in your chest, blinking at him as he laughs. 
“As cheesy as it sounds I’m hoping for that to be the case. Maybe one day we’ll be looking back on tonight as the night that cemented it in your heart that you wanted to marry me.” 
He flops down on the bed next to you, slipping his arm under your head and pulling you to lay down on his chest. His chin rests on top of your head, slyly avoiding your gaze so you don’t see how much that brazen admittance of affection for you affected him. 
“How many months has it been?” you say instead, mind reeling with thoughts. 
“Close to six,” he says casually, as though he hasn’t been marking the days off in his planner with his favourite pen, hidden in a drawer that holds your present in the coming weeks. 
“Only? It feels like it’s been so much longer.” 
“It hasn’t been long enough if you ask me. No, nowhere near long enough.” 
You notice Kaeya’s voice getting lower, his words that he normally drawls charmingly to tease you getting a little slower. Even the hand that’s gently petting your head has gotten a little lazier, He’s practically lightly smacking you at this point, a yawn slipping past his lips. 
“Good thing it’s Friday, huh?” you say after he yawns.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbles, not wanting to admit that being bathed in your warmth was making him sleepier than he thought. 
“I have things to grade and stuff to read. I can’t go to bed yet,” he complains, still not making a move to escape from your body. 
“You can take the evening off. Maybe we’ll just wake up really early tomorrow and you can do your work in the morning.” 
“You’ll stay the night?” he asks hopefully. 
“I can stay the weekend. How does that sound?”
“It sounds lovely,” he says into your hair. 
“If you need anything just let me know and I’ll go get it for you. But later. I’m tired now. Cooking is harder than I thought it’d be.”
You hear him hum contently after settling down more underneath you, pulling you completely on top of him. Relishing in his contact, you decide not to say anything to spoil the moment, absently drawing little patterns on his shirt as his breathing becomes more regular, falling asleep with the comforting weight of his world in his arms. 
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cookinguptales · a day ago
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You know, it’s odd... I was talking to a friend about Nandor (as... I often do) and I was thinking about timelines...
One thing I’ve always been interested in is the way that the three (normal) vampires clearly lost touch with the modern world. They haven’t always been completely out-to-lunch! That’s the weird part! We see in photos that they used to keep up with the latest fashions, they talk about being friends with both human and vampire celebrities in the 20s through 60s, they had jobs, they mention going out to clubs and parties often, they use a lot of references that wouldn’t have been out of date when they learned them.
So like... what happened, exactly? What made them withdraw? Some of it probably is that it is easier to withdraw these days, but with Nandor in particular...
I was joking that Benjy might’ve been around when Nandor started dating Gail for the first time, or if he wasn’t, then he would’ve been right before her. (I know that Benjy was 70s and Gail was 80s, but it was kind of unclear how long Benjy was actually around. Definitely at least 5 years based on cultural clues but...) And then I really thought about the Nandor that we saw in the pictures with Benjy.
He’s... pretty different from the Nandor we see with Guillermo. This Nandor was going to parties, going out dancing with his familiar, going to political protests, dressing up as characters from pop culture, etc. He didn’t always seem, um, super savvy about the politics, so it’s arguable that the decline had already begun. (Or he’s just always been an idiot.) But he was undoubtedly more clued-in than he is now. And you see that he seems a little less culturally active when he’s with Gail, but still going out, doing things, going to concerts, etc. Still wildly different from the current Nandor.
It sort of seems to me that Nandor is one of those people that gets drawn into things by the people around him. He went to that Bob Seger concert for Gail. He went to a Superb Owl party and Atlantic City for Sean. It’s not that he’s opposed to going out and doing things and learning things. It’s just rarely his idea. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find that some of the 70s stuff was Benjy’s doing.
So what exactly changed in this period? Well... Nandor kind of lost his human support system. He ditched Benjy because Benjy was starting to become needy and disaffected and was asking too much about vampirism. (We can draw these conclusions from the photos and Nandor’s complaints.) He was then dumped (repeatedly) by Gail, a woman who he seems to be genuinely in love with. This really does look like the beginning of the end for Nandor, because by the time Guillermo met him in roughly 2010, Nandor seems to have been pretty much the way we see him now, if not worse. Like, Guillermo has never been shocked, exactly, by Nandor’s naïveté or unpopularity, so this isn’t a recent development.
So... Nandor loses touch with the human world right around the advent of the internet. He has very mild familiarity with the internet, but only the oldest and least useful parts of it. That means he really misses the information boom and the era of interconnectedness that we’re currently experiencing.
From everything we know about Nandor, my guess is that he was pretty depressed in the 90s, as well. He was on-again-off-again with Gail and apparently took it really hard every time she left. He does not appear to have had a long-term familiar in this era, at least not that we’ve heard anything about.
I guess what I’m saying is... Nandor said in the cult episode that it was the happiest he’d felt in decades, and yeah, that makes sense to me. Nandor’s current depression seems to be the end result of several decades of loss, disaffectation, and a profound sense of loneliness. (Spurred on now by losing his country, his love interests, his metaphysical understanding, and to some degree, his sense of self.) He has the vampires, he has Guillermo, but it’s not like Guillermo was really pushing him for a lot of that time. He was much mousier than Benjy and didn’t really try to force Nandor out of his comfort zone or invite him out to places.
Nandor joined a cult. lbr, it was a cult. It was a cult of community, of humanity, of... the eighties. It really feels like him reaching back to a period in his life when he was happier and more connected and felt much less lonely. It was all fake, obviously, but he was very happy to believe in the lie. 
Guillermo was clearly very hurt when Nandor said he hadn’t been this happy since the period before Guillermo, but I don’t think it was personal, if perhaps said out of spite. I think Nandor’s just very prone to nostalgia and believing that his life would be better if it were more like it was in happier periods. But... Gail dumped him in the 80s. His wives hated, feared, and left him in the 1200s. They have never actually been happier, less lonely times. He’s just fallen prey to nostalgia.
Anyway, it’s interesting to see him finally making human friends again. He’s going out, going places, meeting new people, learning new things, consuming new media. It all seems to be really overwhelming for him because he’s drastically out of practice. Guillermo has been a big help in that now that he’s finally standing up for himself and standing up to Nandor. They’re not quite treating each other as equals yet, but they’re approaching it. 
I think it’s really interesting that Nandor wanted to take Guillermo on this trip around the world with him. It really feels like the ultimate in getting out of his comfort zone with a person that he loves, which is how we’ve seen him interacting with the world of the recent past. (And now! See: Jan.) I desperately wish they could have had that together, but I still hope that getting out and seeing/doing new things helps push Nandor out of this ennui and maybe makes him learn some stuff about himself. (And Guillermo...)
I fully believe that a large portion of depression is stagnation, and more than any other character in the series, Nandor has stagnated. But maybe a little Eat, Prey, Love will help him out? We can only hope. :<
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robertdowneyjjr · 2 days ago
Note
Heyy, if you're still taking the kiss prompts can I ask for 62 and/or 63! :)
hi, sorry for the late response! i'm gonna go with 63:
"people kiss each other all the time, doesn't mean there's feelings involved."
---
They're spooned up together in bed after cleaning up and getting ready for bed when Steve breaks the silence by mumbling unintelligibly into Tony's neck.
"Hmm? What was that?" Tony asks, turning around in Steve's arms to face him.
"I said, the rest of the team is going to be completely insufferable about this."
Tony furrows his brows, unsure where Steve is going with this.
"What do you mean? Why?"
"Come on," Steve sighs, exasperated. "You have to know that they've been betting on how long it would take for us to get together."
"Oh, yeah, that." Tony shrugs. "Well we can't really do much about it, can we? We're finally together now. I'm really, really happy about this," he says, running a hand through Steve's hair.
Steve closes his eyes at the gentle tugging, humming softly in agreement.
"So am I. But don't you think it'll be funny to mess with them just for a little bit?"
Tony pulls back, intrigued by Steve's tone that he's secretly patented as the Steve-Rogers-is-a-little-shit voice.
"Alright, I'm game. What did you have in mind?"
---
The next morning, they arrive at breakfast separately. Steve gets there first as usual after a run and a shower, with Tony showing up twenty minutes later just after Clint has taken a seat at the island with a bowl of cereal in hand. He sits down next to Bruce, wrinkling his nose at his science bro's cup of camomile tea as he goes. Steve sets down Tony's favorite mug filled with his favorite brew in front of him and smiles at him sweetly, softly stroking his cheek just once before turning back to the burner.
This does not go unnoticed by the rest of the team.
Throughout the rest of breakfast, the two share soft smiles between their bites of food, feet brushing against each other under the table.
At one point Steve's toes accidentally (on purpose) brush against Natasha's leg, but she doesn't comment on it.
---
For the rest of the week, Steve and Tony mess with the team by blatantly acting like a couple while never confirming the actual status of their relationship. As far as the team can tell without either of them saying anything, they've just suddenly become a lot more physical with their affection while still living in denial. They know that the betting pool is worth at least a thousand bucks, and they're not going to make it easy for any of them to win that money.
They show up to team meetings hand in hand and sit side by side, Steve doodling on Tony’s arm and Tony whispering in Steve’s ear, the two of them giggling softly amongst themselves. They hog the loveseat during movie night, but are snuggled so close together that another person could fit in there easily. They say goodbye in the mornings with soft kisses on the cheek or forehead, followed with “I’ll see you tonight, gorgeous” and spend the rest of their days smiling cheek to cheek.
Through it all, it’s clear that their teammates are vibrating out of their skin with the need to ask and confirm whether they’ve started dating, but hilariously enough, no one dares to actually come right out with their questions.
It all comes to a head late on Saturday night, when Steve and Tony are returning home from a date. They’re wrapped up in each other, Steve bracketing Tony against the corner of the elevator, enthusiastically making out without a care for anything else in the world. The elevator comes to a stop on the communal floor without either of them noticing, and it isn’t until they hear someone clear their throat that they stop to take a look at the person who’s so rudely disturbed them.
Clint and Natasha stare back at them with matching smirks on their faces.
“Finally!” Clint exclaims, raising both ands up in celebration. “About time you guys finally start dating!”
Steve turns towards them fully, putting on the most innocent expression he can muster, and asks, “What makes you think we’re dating?”
Clint is gobsmacked by this question, evidently confused that it’s even something that Steve had to ask. “Isn’t it obvious? You guys have been all over each other all week. All the handholding and goodbye kisses and cuddling and smiling. You were literally just making out in the elevator!”
At that, Steve’s face morphs into an expressionless mask and he says, deadpan, “People kiss each other all the time, doesn’t mean there’s feelings involved.”
He presses the door close button on the panel and just as the elevator doors slide completely shut on Clint’s dumbfounded gaping and Natasha’s narrowed eyes, Steve turns back to Tony and presses their lips together hard, drawing a moan from the other man.
---
Clint stares at the closed elevator doors. “They’re fucking with us. They have to be, right?”
“Definitely.”
“You gotta help me think of a way to get them to admit it, Nat. We need this for the bet.”
“Hmm.” Natasha turns towards the stairwell to head up to her room. “I think we’re just gonna have to let this one go.”
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sailortongue · 2 days ago
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The King's Bargain (VII)
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Pairing: King!Ushijima x Princess!Reader
Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, angst?
Summary: As a princess, you were always expected to eventually marry royalty, but never did you think that you would be engaged to the very king who declared war on your kingdom.
WC: 3.3k
Everyone go say happy birthday to the coauthor @itsfreewastelandbaby
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The reception was much more eventful than the wedding itself. It was being held in the ballroom of the palace, since it was one of the largest rooms available and was intended for large events. Wakatoshi briefly left your side to fetch refreshments, which gave King Kuroo and Prince Bokuto the perfect opportunity to approach you.
“YN! Congratulations!” exclaimed Bokuto, throwing his arms around you in a bone-crushing hug.
You returned the hug and thanked him. Kuroo followed Bokuto’s example and gave you a hug as well. “Congratulations, Yn! Can’t believe you're a queen now.”
You chuckled, “Yeah, I can’t either. It doesn’t seem real yet.”
Kuroo nodded in acknowledgement. “You’ll get used to it before you know it. It took a while after my coronation, too.”
You gave him a genuine smile, “Thank you, Kuroo. I really appreciate that.”
“Yeah, don’t sweat it. I’m sure your ~husband~ will help you every step of the way until you can do it by yourself,” teased Bokuto, a wide grin on his face. 
Kuroo, never one to be left out of the fun, also chimed in, “I’ll bet he’d help his queen with anything. Don’t you think, Bokuto?”
“Ohhh, of course he would. Whatever Her Majesty needs, right Yn?”
You rolled your eyes, “Shut up, both of you. What about your love lives, huh?”
Kuroo put a hand over his heart in mock pain, “You wound me, Your Highness.” Bokuto laughed at Kuroo’s antics, but Kuroo wasn't having any of that. “What’re you laughing at, Bokuto? You don’t have a lover either.” 
As the two men bickered back and forth, a new voice to your left made you jump. “Congratulations, princess,” came the flirty tone of a blond man accompanied by two men. One with the same face, twins, you presumed, and one with dark brown bangs parted on either side of his face.
“She’s a queen now, you nitwit,” said the man with an identical face. “Excuse him, he’s not known for being respectful,” he said, throwing a pointed glare at his brother.
“Don’t embarrass me in front of the pretty lady!”
“The pretty married lady?”
The blonde smirked. “All’s fair in love and war.” 
Suddenly, a large palm landed itself on the man’s shoulder, and your husband came into view. “There should be no talk of war. After all, no one here would do anything to offend the other, isn’t that right, captain?” The man in question winced. “Yes of course.” 
After a few more minutes of pleasantries (And bearing witness to Bokuto’s and Kuroo’s antics), you smiled sweetly at the men you were speaking to and bid them farewell to talk to another group of guests. You linked your arm into your new husband’s and ushered him to the dance floor for the first dance of the night. You released his arm to stand directly in front of him. He brought one hand to your waist, and grasped one of yours with the other. The guests formed a circle around the two of you, giving you ample space to twirl with the music. Throughout the entire dance, neither of you broke eye contact, completely enraptured with the other. When the song came to a close, the guests clapped as they took to the dance floor for the next song.
You and Wakatoshi made your way back to the edges of the ballroom as you had spotted your family waving you over. You let go of Wakatoshi’s arm and ran to your parents, throwing your arms around them. “There’s our girl!” exclaimed your father, enveloping you in a bear hug. You hugged your mother next before turning to Tooru, who, instead of hugging you, tugged you behind him before pointing an accusatory finger at Wakatoshi and barraging him with questions. Iwa took it upon himself to smack the back of Tooru’s head. “You’re supposed to protect me from harm, not cause it!” shouted your brother. He really was such an idiot. 
Makki and Mattsun took the opportunity to greet you, immediately teasing you about your new marital status. “So, Queen Ushijima now, huh? How’s it feel?”
You chuckled, “To be quite honest, it hasn’t sunk in yet. I thought I would be a princess forever.”
“And I thought I would be the princess’ guard forever,” said Hajime wistfully, joining the three of you in conversation. “If you ever have an opening in the Shiratorizawa guard let me know.” The smile on his face made it clear that he was merely joking, but you couldn’t help but entertain the idea, “Oh, but of course. You’ll be the first person notified.”
“You can’t take Hajime! If he goes then who’ll train Kyoutani? Because it certainly won’t be me. He doesn't listen to me at all!” whined Tooru.
“Who’s Kyoutani?”
They all shared a look as if just realizing something. It was Mattsun who spoke first, “That’s right. You left before Kyoutani joined the guard.” He pointed to a man with short cropped blond hair with two dark stripes in it who seemed to be scowling at everyone he laid eyes on. “That’s him.”
As if sensing you all talking about him, he turned his glare in your direction. Hajime beckoned him over, to which Tooru was quick to object. It was amusing how your brother seemed almost genuinely intimidated by the new recruit.
Upon reaching your little group, Kyoutani bowed first to Wakatoshi and then to you, “Your Majesties.” Tooru was next, though Kyoutani said nothing in acknowledgement. He took his place beside Iwa, posture rigid. Your brother looked positively offended at the lack of greeting. He huffed, “I’m going talk to King Daichi.”
Wakatoshi looked at you, “Your brother is quite childish.”
“Understatement of the year,” snickered Makki, not even trying to hide his grin.
Never one to miss a chance to make fun of Tooru, Mattsun began a dramatic retelling of 8-year-old Tooru who jumped into the garden pond because he thought the lily pads would hold his weight. They did not. Even Kyoutani cracked a smile at the story.
Cheeks still hurting from smiling so much, you looked around to see where your brother had gone off to, but neither him nor King Daichi was anywhere to be seen. You shrugged it off, returning to the conversation which had shifted from making fun of Tooru to reminiscing about being children.
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The two monarchs had taken their conversation elsewhere, a drawing room to be exact, which is the reason you were unable to find them. “Prince Tooru, please explain yourself. It is your sister’s wedding reception. You should be out there celebrating!” King Daichi was quickly losing patience with the young prince.
“Why should I celebrate my sister marrying that monster?” hissed Tooru. “The only reason she’s married to him is because he threatened war on our country otherwise.”
King Daichi’s jaw dropped open, his eyes widening. “I didn’t know that,” he said lamely.
“No, you wouldn’t have known. Couldn’t have. It’s been kept secret from everyone but the royal family and some choice servants.”
“So why are you telling me this?” The king narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“I want your help.”
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“Excuse us, have any of you seen King Daichi?” interrupted a man with silver hair. He was accompanied by a much taller man with shoulder-length brown hair.
You took the liberty of answering, “No, I haven’t. My brother Tooru went speak to him some time ago, but I haven’t seen either of them since. I tried to look for him earlier but I don’t think they’re in the ballroom anymore.”
“I see. Well, thank you anyway. Would you like me to relay your brother’s whereabouts if we find him?”
“Yes, please. That would be much appreciated.”
“Our pleasure, Your Highness.” He nodded in goodbye to the group before presumably continuing his search, his brunet companion in tow.
Though a few minutes later it seemed that the silver haired man wouldn’t need to report back to you, as Tooru found you first. “What’d I miss?” asked your brother casually, as if he hadn’t been gone for half an hour at least. Bokuto, who had come over with Kuroo only a few minutes ago, broke into laughter whilst trying to catch Tooru up on a story he’d been telling about the time he was a kid and got stuck in a dumbwaiter whilst playing hide and seek with his sisters.
Tooru gave a hearty laugh, acting normal, and yet something seemed off, almost forced. A new song began and he turned to you and offered his hand, “Dance with me?”
“If you don’t mind embarrassing yourself. Your dancing is as abysmal as it was when we were children,” you laughed, but took his hand anyway. As the dance commenced, so too did his incessant questions.
“Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend for my sake. We both know you didn’t want to marry that savage, especially under threat of war.”
“He’s not a savage,” you chided, instantly defending your husband.
He scoffed. “You don’t actually like him, do you?” he questioned in disbelief.
“Wakatoshi isn’t anything like what you think he is.”
“Wakatoshi? So, you’re on a first name basis now?”
“Look, I know it’s less than ideal, but I think we can make this work. He’s kind, considerate, and r-”
“So, you do like him.” Tooru’s eyes darkened. There was so much disapproval wafting off him that it was practically tangible. “Have you forgotten that he declared war on our kingdom?”
“Of course I haven’t! But aren’t you the least bit curious why?”
“It doesn’t matter why he did it, the point is that he did it. Yn, this is absurd and I won’t hear anymore of your fantasy of a happily ever after with that brute.”
You were visibly growing agitated. Ushijima, who had been watching the whole affair from afar, decided that now was the time to intervene. A bride shouldn’t be upset on her wedding day.
Both you and Tooru were so absorbed in your squabbling that neither of you noticed Ushijima approaching.
“Oh, come on Tooru. You never even gave him a chance.” 
“Why should I? Give me one good reason why I should so much as spare him the smallest grain of courtesy.”
“Because he’s my husband. I know his reputation is-”
“Atrocious,” deadpanned your brother.
You couldn’t even dispute it. He was right. “Not the word I was going to use, but yes. This isn’t what I wanted for myself, that’s true. And yeah he comes across as cold and aloof. But what’s done is done, and I am going to make the best of it.”
“Is that truly how you feel?” came the deep baritone of just the man you were talking about. “I apologize for causing such stress. It was never my intention.” The look on his face cut you deeply. He looked so hurt by your words.
“No, Wakatoshi wait!” You called after him, but he was already walking away. You went after him, leaving Tooru alone. You hated to admit it, but Wakatoshi definitely had the advantage. His legs were much longer than yours, which made it difficult to keep up. You just hoped you weren’t making too much of a scene and that everyone had drunk enough to not care what was going on around them.
You eventually caught up to him in the hallway leading away from the ballroom, but he didn’t stop. You grabbed a piece of his sleeve to prevent him from going any farther. “Please listen,” you hated that you were nearly begging, but you didn’t want to ruin your marriage just hours into it. “I know what I said was mean, but you didn’t let me finish.” You were looking at him with such desperation he couldn’t possibly deny you. He nodded for you to continue.
“What I was going to say is that you’re contradicting everything we’ve ever been led to believe about you. You may come across as cold and aloof at first, but once I got to know you you were actually sweet and caring.” You stared up at him resolutely, “I want this to work between us. I don’t want to spend my life in an unhappy marriage.”
You thought he wasn’t going to say anything and your heart fell, but a small smile slowly graced his face. “I would very much like that as well.”
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Tooru still stood where you had left him, looking around for someone. He spotted them at a table near the corner and strode over quickly.
“I have proof,” he stated, a grim determination in his eyes.
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“She thinks he’s cold and aloof. She also said that she never wanted to marry him.”
The man’s brows furrowed in contemplation, his hands steepled. “I’ll help. But what do I get in return?”
Another man at the table chimed in, “Sire, I don’t think this is a good idea. I spoke with Queen Yn earlier and she seemed perfectly happy.”
Tooru snapped at the silver-headed man who had interrupted, “She’s a public figure which makes her well practiced in keeping up appearances. Just because she seemed happy doesn't mean she is.” 
The prince continued with the conversation as if it had never been interrupted, “My father intends to step down from the throne within the year. As his successor, I will be crowned king. When that time comes, I will be willing to discuss an alliance.”
“An alliance? I’ll need something better than that if I’m going to risk war with Shiratorizawa.”
“Such as?”
“I want your knight, Iwaizumi Hajime, to join my ranks.”
“Absolutely not! He’s the captain of the guard. Essential.”
“Well, it’s between your sister or your knight. Pick one, because you can’t have both.”
Tooru hesitated, but ultimately responded, “My sister. I want my sister back.” His head hung low, ashamed that he had to make such a choice in the first place. He just hoped he was making the right one.
“It’s settled then. I’ll return your sister, and you transfer Iwaizumi to me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to enjoy the remainder of this party.” And with that, he left, leaving Tooru second-guessing everything.
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The reception party was finally winding down, and you and Wakatoshi both decided to officially end it since the guests were steadily dwindling.
“If we could have everyone’s attention please,” called Wakatoshi, “we’d like to bring this evening to a close, as it is getting quite late. My wife and I both appreciate you all celebrating our marriage with us and we wish you all a safe journey back. If you cannot make it back to your respective kingdoms tonight, please allow me to offer you accommodations here. If you choose to stay here, please speak with my butler, Goshiki.”
Some guests left, while others went to inquire with Goshiki about rooms for the night. You scanned the room, trying to find your family and friends so you could wish them either goodnight or goodbye. It didn’t take long to find them, since Makki and Mattsun were causing a ruckus, as per usual. You told Wakatoshi that you would only be gone a few minutes and made your way over. Kyoutani saw you first, and his bow alerted the rest of them that someone was approaching.
“Will you be leaving or staying?” you asked.
“Sorry, dear, but we’ll be returning to Seijoh,” answered your mother, a sad smile adorning her aging face.
You couldn't lie, you were a bit disappointed, but you understood. They had a kingdom to take care of, and they can’t do that from another country. You hugged everyone goodbye, with the exception of Kyoutani whom you’d only met that night and who seemed like he would be less than appreciative of being hugged. Your brother was last, and when he hugged you back he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” He didn’t clarify what he meant and you didn’t get the chance to ask before being pulled in again by Makki, Mattsun, and Iwa. It was a tearful group hug. It wasn’t like you would never see them again, but you had grown up with them and they were family in every way except blood. 
Afterwards, you returned to Wakatoshi’s side, eyes red and watery, and watched everyone leave. When it was just you and him in the otherwise empty ballroom, he turned to you and tilted your face upwards with a gentle hand on your chin. It would take a blind man to miss the tear tracts on your face.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He brought his hands to either side of your face, his eyes frantically inspecting every inch of your face for signs of injury.
You chuckled, “No, I’m fine. Just sad. This is all really new, y’know? I’ve never been away from home.”
Wakatoshi’s shoulders slumped, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “I see. That’s completely understandable. I don’t expect you to adjust to such a big change overnight. No one does.”
“Thank you, Wakatoshi.” His words were reassuring, and you were truly thankful for them. They hadn’t fixed the problem, only time could do that, but they had made you feel better. He grabbed your hand in his, “Come, I’ll show you to your bedchambers.”
You followed him through the palace in silence. You were sheltered but not so much as to not know what is expected to occur on one’s wedding night. By the time you reached your bedroom, you were so tense you were practically shaking. This, of course, did not go unnoticed by Wakatoshi. A soothing squeeze of his palm around yours and you looked up at him. “Are you alright, my love?” You softened and smiled. “Yes. Just missing home.” He eyes you warily but drops your hand to open the large oak doors for you. 
It was an impressive room, but the first thing to draw your attention was a music box sitting on the end of your bed. It was from your previous room in a Seijoh, an heirloom from your late grandmother. But you’d left it there. You approached the bed to pick it up before looking to Wakatoshi for an explanation. He followed you further into the room before taking the box from your hands and placing it on the bedside table so that he could take your hands in his.
“A wedding gift. I noticed you seemed rather attached to it so I contacted your mother and asked permission to have it brought here for you. I know it’s not much, but-”
You didn’t allow him to finish his sentence, as you tackled him in a hug. He tensed at the initial contact, but quickly wrapped his arms around you. “Thank you, Toshi. It’s perfect.” Though you couldn’t see it due to your face being buried in his chest, the man blushed and held you tighter. The hug lasted until you moved your head to look at him, but he was already admiring you. “I’m glad it makes you happy. I know the circumstances of our marriage are not ideal, but I care for you greatly. That being said, we do not have to consummate this marriage tonight if you do not wish to.” He paused before continuing, and lowered himself to his knees. “I am here only to serve you.” 
You looked at him in shock, but quickly evened your expression. “I want you, if you’ll have me.”
He stood up to his full height before leaning down, bringing his face to yours. His hands were on your hips in an instant, pushing you back until the back of your legs met the bed and you fell backwards. But this kiss was nothing like what you had shared on the altar; no longer gentle, this one was rough and passionate. He was everywhere at once, his hands making quick work of your dress. There would be no going back after this.
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king's bargain taglist: @chixkadee @wilby0-0 @animeshipper5112 @clairethereader @ushisrever @feiwelinchen @coldlamaspersonspy @uwukris @ushiwaka-11 @ihavewhiplashbecauseofnct @spinalhoney @ebiharachan @cinnamonlattae @buttercupp-baby @sabrinakishi @hannas16 @tuhros @indaybella99 @pan-cakez @kiyoomimybeloved
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32 notes · View notes
nats-girl · 5 hours ago
Text
consolation
tasm!peter x fem!reader
summary: peter finds out about your issues.
warnings: heavy topics on mental health including anxiety and depression. h/c!
word count: 2.5k
author’s note: i have projected onto reader :,) this is scary to put out, may delete later.
last warning! read with caution! potentially triggering topics are mentioned (anxiety and depression) gif isn’t mine. don’t repost my work.
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You wake to yet again another dull room. Another morning. Another day. What a pain.
The curtains cover up the sunlight, leaving your room in a gray hue. Liquid stains your cheeks and your eyelashes are clumped up and wet. You’ve been crying in your sleep.
You’ve been feeling bad lately. Really bad. You can’t put your finger on it but there’s a little voice in your head keeps telling you you’re not enough. It whispers horrible things about you to you. It yells at you. It tells you don’t deserve anything. It forces you to think and do harm. In turn, you crumble. You believe it, but that’s all you know about this empty mental state.
Yet, you feel so suffocated by it. So suffocated by merely being alive. You don’t even know what is so terrible about your life that you have to feel so down and weird and off all the time. You just do.
And you’re alone with the voice. You refuse to tell anyone what you’re feeling. Shit, you don’t even know what you’re feeling, do you? Instead you’re faking smiles and acting as if you’re fine, normal even. What a laugh.
No one has discovered how much mental pain you’re put in daily.
No one but one person: Peter Parker, the guy you’re dating.
The two of you met in your chemistry class. He’s the smartest person there. His intelligence shocks you and sometimes makes you feel shitty about your mediocre grades, the voice in your head fueling the thoughts.
But you stay with him. He’s sweet and caring and lovely. He brings you flowers every date and shows you off to all his friends and family. He’s bright sunlight in your currently curtained and dull life.
You’ve been with him for four months. It doesn’t matter though, the voice tells you he’s going to leave you. It tells you he doesn’t want someone like you. It tells you you’ll be alone for forever. It laughs at you when you fantasize about your future with him. It makes you hate yourself as much as you hate it.
As you sit on your bed, you think about what today is going to be like. Clearly it’s going to be a hard day, but Peter asked you out today. A new bookstore with an attached coffeeshop opened up recently and he wanted to take you. Maybe the voice can shut down just for the day or enough for you to read a chapter of a new book or even enough to have a sip of coffee.
But it continues with you as you drift through your day. You force yourself to do work for a while, whether your doing it as a distraction or genuinely is unknown to you.
A few hours go by and you check your watch. Peter will be here to pick you up in an hour or so. You change and get ready before frowning at your appearance in the mirror. The reflection taunts you, pointing out all your insecurities. Before you can get too far in your head, the doorbell rings.
You leave the bathroom to open the front door and Peter is there, a smile on his face and, as per usual, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Hi,” he says, an unbelieving smile on his lips as if he were looking at something beautiful.
“Hi Peter,” you give him half-fake, half-real smile, the teeth being the fake part of your expression. He’s dressed in large black jeans, a black band t-shirt, and an olive-green oversized corduroy shirt that acts more like a sweater. He looks beyond perfect which makes you slightly self-conscious.
“These are for you. You ready to go?” He leans his shoulder on your doorframe, admiring you while handing you the flowers. You smile and look down to check your outfit. Jeans and an old sweater.
“Um yeah- just give me a second to change my shirt and put the flowers in a vase.” Before you can turn and quickly sprint to your room, he grabs onto your hand and pulls you toward him.
His eyes glance down at your body while he whispers “But I like this on you.” His hand trials down your forearm lightly, taking in the feeling of the fabric on you.
You sigh deeply, “I don’t really like it, I look too- um… I’ll be back in a second.” He looks dejected when you back away, but you ignore it and continue on. The pink tulips he gifted you are sloppily placed in a vase you quickly filled with water before leaving to your room.
You look for something to wear for 5 minutes before Peter starts to get worried. He knows your insecure like everyone else, but your extent of sadness and despondency is long-lasting and worrying. He’s noticed how much you’ve changed in the past year.
You were so bubbly and bright when he first met you. You would show up to chemistry with a smile and a bounce to your step. Now you just walk in frowning with dark circles sitting under your eyes. He notices when you’re putting up a happy front the tone of your voice. He sees right through your little act.
He closes the door behind him, goes to your room, and is met with the sight of tears streaming down your face. You’re desperately looking for a shirt. Concern hits him immediately as he walks into the room and lays a hand on your shoulder. The unexpected feeling makes you flinch and break you out of your panic. You start up at him with teary eyes.
He removes his hand quickly as if your skin had burned him.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
In that moment it hits you that you’re only wearing your jeans and a bra. Your body is exposed to him. You put on a shirt nearest to you rapidly. It’s a short shirt with small straps. You ignore the yelling from the voice inside your head telling you a shirt like that is the worst thing you could possibly wear in a moment like this. You adjust it, wipe your eyes, and stare at his neck to avoid his eyes.
“Sorry, I- I just needed to change. I’m sorry. Can we go now?” He takes your chin between his fingers and brings you to look at him.
“Are you okay?” His words drift out of his mouth slow like honey. His concern is seen in the crease between his eyebrows and the frown on his lips. The debate in your head whether to keep the emotions bottled or finally express your feelings is short-lived, the former winning as always.
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’ve just been off today, I don’t know why,” you partially lied. You’re not fine, but you have been off today and nearly every day for a month or so with no direct explanation. You’re aware telling him would be a relief, but it might scare him away. Maybe you’d be a burden instead of his girlfriend.
“We can postpone our date?”
“No, god no! Please, I want to go out with you,” you practically beg while holding onto his forearms.
He sighs and kisses the top of your head before nodding. His hand rests on your cheek while yours continues on his forearm.
The voice isn’t pestering you in this moment. It leaves you alone when when he touches you, when he kisses you, when he’s around you. You press your lips to his warm ones, lips gliding against each other’s in a sweet embrace before backing away.
“Come on, I’ve been in need of a new book,” Peter says as he breaks away and pulls you towards your front door.
The two of you arrived to the bookshop and picked at books for each other before ordering coffee. Peter was now working on an assignment for class while you zoned out, staring at the book’s page rather than its words. He chose some thriller that’s normally right up your ally. As interesting as the summary seems, you can’t shake the thoughts of what happened in your room. He saw you shirtless and crying and he didn’t mind. You wonder what he thought of you and if he’ll leave you once you have the talk about what’s going on with you.
A soft touch to your hand and your name being whispered brings you back to reality.
“Um- I have to ask you something?” Peter looks slightly scared to ask, brows furrowed while his statement comes out more like a question. You murmur out a hum of affirmation to prompt him to go on.
He takes a deep breath and continues. “I know you’re like um… down?” He looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him talking about this. You reluctantly give him a small nod and he continues. The conversation came quicker than you had expected. You let him go on; otherwise, the conversation would be put off by you for as long as possible.
“Well, I’ve sort of noticed it’s gone on for a while now and what happened today kinda- um confirmed it.“ You look stressed with your eyebrows furrowed and a small gap between your lips. He notices and tries calming you down with a tighter hold on your hand.
“We don’t have to talk about it. I just- I hope you’re okay and I don’t want you to think you have to go through anything alone. I’m here for you and I’ll listen to you. And if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay too. I’ll still be here for you.”
By the time he’s done, you’re close to tears and gripping his hand tighter. He’s cursing himself for ever bringing it up and making you sad, but it was a necessary confrontation. Your melancholy was eating him up inside. He was worried horribly about you and even if you’ve only been together for two months, he cares about you deeply.
“It’s just- I don’t know,” you take a moment to organize your thoughts before continuing, “I don’t think I’m a very good person. I should be funnier and prettier and interesting. But I’m not and I hate that about myself. It’s only worse when my head decides to criticize everything about me and I don’t know how to stop thinking like that. It’s like my thoughts are my biggest enemies and it’s a constant battle to try to get them to stop. And sometimes I think about you and how perfect you are and how much you deserve to be with someone perfect, someone not like me. I think about how much better I could be, but it’s only an unrealistic and unachievable fantasy.”
Talking to him proved to be a lot easier than you expected, putting your mental state into words that flow right out. But no words or phrases will ever truly portray how you feel. Only you are able to fully understand what’s going on, and even then, you don’t know why it’s happening or how to stop it.
He takes a deep breath and pulls you in. You rest your head on his shoulder while his arm wraps around your frame and his head lays on yours. The tears that have built up are now streaming down your face. You tried holding them back as best as possible but his comfort prompts you to let go.
The machine whirs while it brews coffee and the sound of soft chatter comes from other customers. Peter sighs against your hair as you both sit in silence, listening to the light noises of the store. You are stressed over his silence. Shouldn’t he be saying something? Maybe he’s thinking of a way to get out of this conversation. What if he’s thinking of leaving you. Before you could get in your head and regret everything, his hand smooths circles over your shoulder and his lips press kisses on the top of your head.
After those few moments of processing your words, he lifts his head and moves you to face him with a calloused hand to your cheek. “Hey baby, I’m proud of you for telling me. That must have taken a lot of courage, yeah?” You nod.
He sighs and rests his forehead against you, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. You’re all the things you say you aren’t. You make me laugh until I tear up and your beauty is so so enchanting. No one’s perfect, but you are the closest person to it.”
The way he speaks of you makes you feel like it’s all lies, too good to be true. But Peter would never lie to you, not like that. You whimper and nuzzle your face into his neck, craving more of his comfort. He lays his head on top of yours. His hold provides warmth and solace and you find yourself never wanting to leave.
He holds you tighter and continues, “How about we get you some help for those thoughts, hm?” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion and lift your head off his chest to face him.
“Like therapy?” You asked, while staring up at him. Therapy was something you’d considered, but you never went through with. The thought of telling someone everything you think of slightly frightens you.
He smiled and held you tighter. “Yeah, babe. I understand self-criticism, but it seems as if you’re struggling with it more than you should.” You lay your head back on his chest and hold his free hand in yours. You nod against his soft shirt.
“Whatever you decide, I’m here for you and I’ll listen to you whenever. Please don’t feel as if you have to hide something like this from me.” His voice is gentle, a melody that soothes your anxiety.
“I know, I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know why I didn’t.” He shakes his head and pulls you in closer, a hand running up and down your back.
“Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m proud of you, okay?” He brings your head up with a soft hand on your cheek, making you gaze into his hazel eyes.
“Thank you,” you whisper, face so close to his you can feel his breath on your lips. You consider yourself lucky in this moment for having a boyfriend so lovely as him.
You pout out your bottom pop lip and murmur “kiss, please?” under your breath. And he complies, kissing your lips and then the tears off your cheeks.
He scrunches his nose when he pulls away and whispers “salty,” once tasting the tears. You giggle too while bringing him in closer, your heart swelling at his tooth-rotting sweetness.
You’re thankful to have a boy like him. Someone who supports you and cares for you. Getting better didn’t seem as futile anymore.
thank you for reading.
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hamsterclaw · a day ago
Text
Baby
A drabble for the couple from The Strip.
Pairing: Hoseok x F! reader
Genre: Non-idol, state prosecutor Hoseok, fluff
Rating: 18+
Word count: 850
Warnings: Swearing, explicit sex
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The loud rap ringtone makes you startle and swallow around Hoseok’s cock.
He hisses, fingers curled in your hair.
You look up at him just in time to see him answering the call.
‘Yeah?’ he asks. His voice is raspy, if you didn’t know it was because his cock was in your mouth you might think he had a sore throat.
You give him your most cutting glare.
Hoseok barely blinks, hand fisting his still impressively hard cock, tapping at your lips.
‘They’re meeting tomorrow morning, we’ll have an update then, Namjoon,’ he says.
You grab the phone.
Hoseok lets out a squawk and fumbles for it, but he’s no match for your quick reflexes.
‘Namjoon,’ you say, patiently, ‘is this urgent?’
Namjoon’s deep voice is amused. ‘It isn’t, Y/N. Should I call back?’
Hoseok’s somehow managed to manoeuvre himself so he’s behind you, lifting your hips, pushing into you without so much as a warning.
Your voice comes out an octave higher. ‘Yeah, I’ll get him to call you, Joonie,’ you promise, hanging up.
Hoseok’s pounding into you, hard. He pinches your thigh. ‘Joonie?’ he asks.
You’re so overwhelmed the tone of his voice barely registers. ‘What? Fuck, fuck, fuck, Hoseok!’
Hoseok keeps up the pace, cock hitting you just right, fingers stroking your clit, squeezing the flesh of your ass.
You can feel it, the pleasure uncoiling in your belly, when he stops, and pulls out.
You turn to face him.
He’s looking at you, hand around the base of his cock.
‘What the hell, Hoseok?’ you complain.
‘Oh, are you needy?’ he asks, voice silken. He strokes himself once, twice. ‘Want my cock?’
You glare at him.
He’s got the audacity to smile at you, and he looks so handsome you can feel some of your annoyance at him fade.
Two can play at this game.
You slip a hand between your legs, stroking over yourself, spreading them wide for him to see.
You were so close it doesn’t take long before you’re moaning, and you can see the way Hoseok swallows as he watches you.
‘Why’d you answer the phone when your dick was in my mouth, Hoseok?’ you ask.
‘I don’t fucking know,’ Hoseok says, immediately. ‘I won’t do it again.’
His hand snakes over your thigh. ‘I’m a dick,’ he says. ‘Please let me fuck you again.’
You put your hand over his. ‘You are a dick,’ you agree.
‘I’m a dick with a hard dick,’ Hoseok says.
‘Shut up, Hoseok,’ you say.
‘Yes ma’am,’ he agrees. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Fine,’ you say. ‘You can fuck me again.’
Hoseok’s inside you before you finish your sentence, sheathed all the way in you, groaning with pleasure.
‘I’m so sorry, baby,’ he whispers to you, hips starting to move. ‘Let me make you cum to make up for it.’
You close your eyes as he fills you, sighing at the feel of him.
Hoseok starts a rhythm so good you’re sobbing because he’s fucking into you just right.
You’re just about to cum when his phone rings again.
‘Don’t worry,’ Hoseok grunts. He fumbles for his phone and tosses it across the room. It lands with a clatter on the floor.
He redoubles his efforts, the veins on his neck standing out as he fucks you through your orgasm.
He lets out a deep groan, and you feel him spill inside you.
He lands on top of you, breathless and panting.
‘Joonie?’ he asks.
‘What?’ you ask.
‘Why are you calling him Joonie?’ he asks, persistent.
You shrug. ‘Joon, Joonie, Namjoon, what does it matter what I call him?’
Hoseok lifts himself up on his forearms, frowning at you.
He gets up and goes to the bathroom.
By the time he comes out you’ve got you both water from the kitchen.
You pass him a glass.
He takes it but doesn’t say anything.
He sits heavily on the bed next to you, not looking at you.
‘Are you sulking?’ you ask, finally.
Hoseok flicks his eyes to you.
‘No,’ he says, sulkily.
You bite back the giggle threatening to escape.
‘I can call him whatever I want, if he’s ok with it,’ you say, reasonably. ‘I don’t call him baby.’
‘You don’t call me baby,’ Hoseok mutters.
‘You’re acting like a baby right now,’ you point out.
Hoseok glances at you.
Your voice softens. ‘Do you want me to call you baby?’
Hoseok rolls his eyes.
‘Baby,’ you say, nudging him with your shoulder.
Hoseok scoffs, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips.
‘Do you want to cuddle, baby?’ you coax.
Hoseok lets you tug him back so you’re both lying down on your bed.
‘Are you really jealous of Joonie, baby?’ you ask, quietly.
Hoseok shakes his head. ‘Not when you’re talking to me like this,’ he tells you.
You stroke a hand down his taut torso. ‘What about when I’m touching you like this, baby?’
Hoseok sighs.
‘I love it, call me baby all the time,’ he finally admits, snuggling into you.
You laugh. ‘Sure, baby.’
©hamsterclaw 2022
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panlight · a day ago
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I know it’s been discussed before, but I really don’t think enough gravity is given to how horrible the relationship is between Rosalie and Edward. Like, they legit hate each other and these feelings have continued to compound on each other for centuries. Edward literally sucks the worst, and his existence alone is intrusive because of the mind reading, but if I was Rosalie, I would leave and just visit occasionally. Edward is favored to a gross degree and it’s given him a severe superiority complex and chip on his “holier than thou” shoulder. He risked everyone’s existence for Bella Plain and Tall but gets mad at Rosalie for liking her reflection and having opinions.
I get angry just thinking about these fictional siblings. It might be projection on my part, but I do not understand how this family remains together for more than 10 minutes at a time when there isn’t Bella drama happening. It makes the whole family situation seem even more ridiculous that it already is. Would love your thoughts on this!
I’m of two minds on this, because sometimes I’m like “ugh they are just awful to Rosalie why does she stay and the favoritism to Edward is obnoxious” but other times I convince myself that this isn’t an accurate portrayal of the family dynamics because Bella/Edward/Jacob are unreliable narrators (they all dislike Rosalie, so none of them are giving her the benefit of the doubt) and we have no idea what conversations or reassurances are happening outside of what they choose to tell us. 
So yeah you can read it as pretty awful and mean and the family loves Edward and hates Rosalie, or you can read it as “of course Bella centers Edward and makes it seem like everyone else does, too, but maybe not?” Also it makes a certain sense that Edward is supported the most/favored in this moment because he’s the one Going Through It with this Bella stuff. It’s possible that it’s not usually this blatant and it’s because he’s going through A Lot right now. 
All that said, SM has made it pretty clear that SHE thinks Edward is the best and Rosalie kind of sucks so it’s probably authorial bias coming through. I mean she says that Edward is Carlisle and Esme’s favorite because Edward is the most good of the siblings and extra special. And I mean I get he was with them first so he’d have a special place in their hearts, but with the Power of Compassion and the Power of Love I just don’t think they’d play favorites quite so much (or at least not be so obvious/vocal about it!), because it’s not loving or kind to their other ‘children.’ Esme’s whole Thing is to be the Mom and most moms would be like “oh I can’t choose a favorite I love all my children equally!” but then SM has her be like “Edward’s the best and brightest of us all!” and like is he, though? He’s the only one who knew vegetarianism was an option, was RAISED that way, and still chose to go off and drink human blood. 
I don’t know where I’m going with this other than yeah, the funny sibling rivalry can veer off into “oh they actually hate each other, this is toxic” territory pretty quickly. I prefer to think Rosalie is getting more love and support behind the scenes from Emmett and her ‘parents’ and maybe even Jasper and it’s just Alice and Edward who are so pro-Bella that they are Anti-Rose and they aren’t USUALLY this nasty to her, but that requires a GENEROUS read of canon, tbh. It’s just as easy to think “yikes, get out of there, girl!” 
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heladodecerezq · 2 days ago
Text
The Anointed
pt. 6 to "Break for the Door."
yandere moon knight (Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley) x Reader
Minors, do not interact!
Author’s Note: How tf am I on part 6 of this.
Description: .The three of them return earlier than you expected, and unfortunately, Khonshu is not of much help...yet.
Word Count: 687
Warnings: yandere, dark content, captivity, tension,
By clicking or tapping on “Keep Reading”, you consent to viewing/consuming this dark media. Minors do not interact. The cultivation of one’s internet experience is up to the individual, and any other personal preferences do not dictate the creations of others nor myself. The recreation, reformatting, re-posting or distribution of this content on other platforms is not welcome and I ask that any and all parties would keep from doing so, thank you.
It wouldn’t fucking come off!
No matter how hard you scrubbed your arm the mark stayed embedded on your forearm. Setting down the plastic brush, you finally relented, shutting off the kitchen faucet. 
“Alright. I give up. Now tell me, what the hell is this?”
Turning to face the moon god, you couldn’t help but feel so powerless under his empty stare. 
Do you know what it’s like being a god? No? Well, It can become exceptionally boring, living eternally isn’t ideal, you know. 
“Oh believe me. I wouldn’t wish eternal life on my worst enemy.”
Ha! Of course you wouldn’t. Well, that little gift, I think you and the others will come to enjoy it very much, now if you don’t mind I must be going. 
“What?!” 
Before you could blurt out a slew of profanities, the deity fades into nothingness, leaving you alone in the apartment building. Though, not for long, as you stood there, completely bewildered as you could hear the familiar sounds of the front door locks coming undone. In a scramble to create a vision of normality, you tugged down your shirt sleeve and ran for your room, grabbing a random book from one of Steven’s shelves. Hopping on the bed, you flipped the book open to a random page, staring right at the pages without reading anything. 
“Darling? Love? We’re home!” Steven called from the front door. 
“I’m in the room!” You replied, trying your best to keep your voice even. 
In a matter of seconds Steven poked his head into the bedroom, a twinge of concern twisting his face, 
“Are you feeling alright, love? It’s a tad early to be in bed, yeah?”
“Eh, well the most comfy place to read is the bed so…”
“And whatcha’ reading there?” He asked, coming closer. “Visual History of the Ancient World? I didn’t know you liked such things!”
Oh shit…You had never looked at the cover. 
“Um, yeah, I was bored and there was nothing good on TV-”
“You’re so cute, y’know that right?”
Coming round to your side, Steven placed several kisses to your forehead. While not overly enthusiastic with all the attention, physical intimacy had been sorely missed. 
Pulling back, Steven offered you his hand. “The lads and I grabbed some take out. I know you missed breakfast, c’mon.”
Relenting, you let him guide you to the kitchen where a few paper parcels were laid out on the small kitchen table. While Steven grabbed some plates and plastic utensils from the cabinets, you rolled up your sleeves to unpack the take–out. The savory smells of the warm-cooked food had you salivating, there was no doubt about it! The three of them had remembered your favorite restaurant. 
“I’ve got everything, but do you want something to drink? I think I’ll have–My love and my light, what is that?”
You looked down at where he was staring and froze. The fucking tattoo!
“Oh love!”
Wasting no time, Steven set aside the plates and rushed over, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up into the air. 
“Steven! Steven!”
Simply delighted, he laughed, finally placing you back on your feet. “Sorry, I just–Wow! Here, let me see!”
Thank the stars the irritation from scrubbing had faded, leaving the tattoo completely unmarred and perfect in its place on your arm. Steven’s fingers traced the dark ink as he held your arm close to his face. 
“Strange,” he mused. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Have you always had this?”
For a moment, you considered lying, but given the thin line you were already navigating thanks to yet another failed escape, you decided against it. 
“No, actually. Your boss gave this to me.”
“Our boss? Khonshu?”
You nodded, tugging your arm out of his grasp. Steven seemed conflicted as he sized up the mark. If he was at odds with it, you could only imagine how the others felt. 
Khonshu’s own words continued to replay in your mind as an uneasy feeling washed over your body. 
Devotee and champion of the night, you have no idea what is in store for you…
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nikatyler · 2 days ago
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“We are back today to kick off another BC, and this time, our main star will be Maeve! Can you introduce yourself to the audience, Maeve? They’re in the past, they don’t even know your father yet.”
Maeve: “Wow, they’re not missing out on much if they don’t know my dad. Anyway, my name is Maeve Fleur, I’m a vampire, I use she/her pronouns and I’m looking for a partner in love and perhaps in crime.”
“I thought you and Sawyer were on good terms, what happened?”
Maeve: “Well, yeah, sort of, but I haven’t talked to him in months, and if the stories are true...look, I’m evil too, I will admit that, but you have to draw the line somewhere. Some things are simply too evil.”
“It says right here that you’re an unflirty sim, but the people really wanted you to have a BC, and so here we are. How does that make you feel?”
Maeve: “Yeah, I was a bit shocked. It’s kinda mean when you think about it. But thank you.”
“Is that where you draw the line at evil things?”
Maeve: *laughs* “No, no. I think we can make it work. I’m not really the type for shallow flirting, I don’t particularly enjoy that, I’m looking for a deeper connection. I’m sure I can still find that here on this show. I wouldn’t be the first in this family who was that lucky. And if I don’t succeed...I think it’s going to be a great time. And it’s always good to make connections.”
“Sure! So, can you tell us more about yourself?”
Maeve: “What would you like to know?”
“Your hobbies...which sibling is your favourite, maybe? Who’s your other parent besides Sawyer? Anything.”
Maeve: “Watcher, you yourself know that I have no idea who my ‘other parent’ is. You prevented me from knowing! But they must’ve been very good looking, and they must’ve had great hair. What else did you wanna know...oh, favourite sibling. That would be Helena of course. Archer and I disagree on a lot of things, like vampirism, and I never really got close with my three younger siblings. Half-siblings. And as for my hobbies, there’s nothing too special. I do a little bit of painting, I like going to gym...and I’m really interested in political history, which probably isn’t surprising at all considering I want to be a politican one day, but don’t worry, I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, I promise I will not bore you to death on our first date, whoever is watching this and thinking of applying.”
“What about children? Would you like to have children someday?”
Maeve: “No idea. I’m not really a kids person, but I’m also not completely against becoming a parent in the future. I’d never want my own big chaotic family like the one I grew up in though. I love my family, but I’ve had enough of that, sorry guys. Next question.”
“You mentioned vampirism. What if the winner of your BC is a human, would you turn them?”
Maeve: “Only if they want me to.”
“Sounds good to me. Oh, important question. You’re a vampire. How are you dealing with sunlight?”
Maeve: “Well, watcher, I have lived in Lucky Palms for quite a long time now, so my answer is probably obvious. I simply accommodated.”
“Good for you. I wish same could be said about all my vampires...”
Maeve: “You simply had to hint at that guy again, didn’t you.”
“You know me. One last thing, who would you like to see enter your BC? Do you have a type?”
Maeve: “I don’t think so. Surprise me. Everyone can get a shot. If you think I’m pretty, go for it. If you think we could be a great couple, go for it. If you’re bored, go for it. If you just want to use me to become a vampire or get famous...I think we’ll figure it out early on, but go for it. Seriously, anyone can join.”
Interested in joining? Stay tuned for more details coming tomorrow evening! (after 9pm CEST)
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