#i guess? i should probably tag? i can never tell how much requires a tag

[hirazuki]

Clematis or marjoram for Melkor?

Thanks!

Clematis | Mental Beauty | Your mind vs. my mind

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

He descends the stairs to the lowest level; the long hall at the bottom takes him lower still, past the smithies and furnaces, the vast storerooms and the deeper mines and the opening to the caverns below the mountains, where molten rock sits spewing fire up at the shielded sky.

The light underground is warm, here, in Angband -- candles and torches and liquid flame; a merry union with the air that lives inside the fortress. It is a far cry from the cold cradle of Utumno, subterranean dark swathed in blue-green lucency, the seat from where poison and peril once flowed out to stain all the land, and fear walked abroad in his name.

It sickens him.

It is not Utumno the Deep-hidden (and fear no longer leaves his side), and in the moments where spite threatens to soak his thought and touch wholly, as a corpse-sack laden with gathered blood, he craves to strangle it: choke it all out until everyone is suffocating from ash and from ice, as though that would recall old power; as though it would bring back a time when the pain was a sleepless, aching thing in his mind and soul only. Now, it is in his skin and in his bones, tightly sewn into this charred flesh he cannot shed, which, to all of Angband, he pretends does not bother him.

He walks, and his steps fall with less thunder and more substance together than they once did -- as they do yet with each passing day -- and he pretends that this does not bother him either.

Melkor slows, feet edging the doorway to his destination: a yawning room, empty save for the single lantern burning low on the floor, the shadows it casts, and the elf in chains, shackled to a wall.

Maedhros -- Maitimo; Nelyafinwë -- the first son of Fëanor and newly vested High King of the Noldor. The commanding piece on the battlefield against his own.

Anger blazes anew in Melkor, as fresh as the blood that blackens his ever-blackened hand from where he had stuck it through an orc, mere moments ago. The creature had fallen to the ground in a clatter of iron and ivory, to join the already-rotting answer to his missive.

So, the elf is not to be bartered. Nor sapped for information: he knows nothing of import; Melkor has already wrung him dry. 

What, then, is to be done with him?

Melkor longs for the release, however temporary it will prove, that he knows violence will bring; to rework flesh and mind and spirit until they are recognizable only with mounting horror as a guide, fragmented visions in broken glass.

And it has always served well, as example and as warning.

However... there is something to be said about a much different kind of blow dealt to his enemies, the damage wrought by murmurs and mistrust, were their king to return to them one day, visibly -- inexplicably -- untouched, where all others have come back disfigured.

Mairon had advised the latter, before leaving -- dutifully, reluctantly -- on his orders to scout the new elven camps with his wolves, tongue tinged with something that on anyone else would have been nothing short of insolence and insubordination.

Mairon is right, of course.

How very like his own self of older days his lieutenant has become, all fluid grace and pretty words (though with an orderliness, a precision, a lack of waste, that he himself, naturally, has never possessed), while he --

Melkor clenches his jaw, and tastes metal in his mouth.

He knows what is happening to him.

Do they think he does not? Do they think he cannot see? His moods, fey and mutable always, yes, but in both directions, now grow ever more dire with no recovery. Irascible. Implacable. Insatiable. He sees it, knows it, fears it, with the bloodless terror of clinging webs and unlight, the daily dread of recognizing a dozen glinting eyes and undying hunger across a mirror, and yet is powerless to stop it.

He desires the light as he hates it, needs it as he cannot abide it, and now that he possesses it, finally, and in a manner that he can keep it all to himself, he cannot possibly cast it aside, no matter that it is the source of his decline.

They would like the jewels gone; the orcs and the balrogs, the werewolves and trolls and vampires, the elves in his service; all his servants; Mairon, most of all -- and this he knows, too.

They shield their eyes with downturned faces before him and disguise it as reverence, scuttle down dark passageways like rodents before a flood, resentful of the violation he has brought to the underbelly of Arda -- nay, to its very womb -- and the war that it has spurred to these shores.

There is no question that the assault the caged treelight wages on their senses is unbearable.

The assault it wages on his own is tenfold thus.

The glare blinds him, everything bleeding in a white haze of indistinct shapes, and the weight bows down his head, until the very idea of rest is but a distant dream of shadows among pitiless light; a memory of breath above water, above crushing rock.

To bear the Silmarils is excruciating. How to let them go, when to bear their loss would be even more so?

How to see them fall back into elven hands?

Melkor has always begrudged the elves their existence, but his hatred of them was not always such. He had entertained himself with them, in the beginning, when all they had known was stars and dark, slumbering woods and the shadow-shapes that walked in the hills. But the war that led to his wreck and ruin was made for their sake, and this he will never forgive. After Angainor, after three ages in Mandos, after Fëanor and the accursed creations of his hands -- he has nothing but hatred left.

This one, though, he thinks, regarding red waves spilling over bare skin like open wounds, glistening dark in the candlelight, this one is different.

Mairon has the right of it -- this one, Fëanor's eldest that burns with the same fire as his sire, yet more tempered and therefore more dangerous, is of rare value, despite his apparent worthlessness as leverage. He may benefit greatly from a different touch than the heavy hand of slag and slaughter that has become Melkor's fare.

Surely, he remembers how; he's not so far gone as that.

He may not be able to discard this body anymore, but he can still craft illusion -- and so he wraps an image around himself that hearkens back to shapes of old, larger but not too large, imposing yet sinuous, like black smoke coiling in the air, hair dancing around his head in tendrils with the languor of oil in water. He keeps his face constant, eyes glowing like the ice of the northern wastes, but little else: hands and limbs, all materialize and dissipate in dark mists as he pleases, as needed to caress, to cajole, to taunt.

Melkor is not certain what he is aiming to achieve with this, how this will aid in his deciding the fate of Fëanor's son; but, then again, there never has been much purpose beyond impulse. It is his nature, after all, and he merely follows it.

He allows himself a prick or two; a scratch, here and there, carved so shallow that not even his lieutenant can complain.

There is no response to his attentions.

It is only a matter of time before he teases the elf with those much-sought after jewels that live upon his head, the first time since donning his crown that he has removed it, in an effort to provoke a reaction -- any reaction, to break that stony composure that has quickly turned from amusing to aggravating until it crumbles like dry clay beneath his gaze -- and he presses them against his face, in the space between eyes and jaw.

Maedhros screams.

He recoils as he is burned, viciously cracking his shoulder on the wall behind him, and the acrid stench of seared flesh fills the air: it is a scent Melkor knows well.

They stand there in stillness, elf and Vala, one heaving with enough force to empty out his innards, the other regarding the iron in his hand, both silent; both surprised.

It is Melkor who recovers first -- and he laughs.

"Oh, this is precious," he finally breathes, returning the crown to his head and shedding his guise in his elation.

Maedhros is hissing and swiping -- like a cub, belonging to one of those long-fanged beasts of horn and plated bone that he had fashioned in the dark beyond the Lamps, that has been deprived of its morsel -- and saying something, but Melkor is no longer listening.

He runs his hand through hair red like blood, tangling his fingers in the strands, claws grazing skin gently, the urge to harm sated -- briefly; a mere flake of snow before open flame; never fully -- by this new knowledge. For no thing he can visit upon the spawn of Fëanor could ever surpass this.

It has been a terrible game, this affair of theirs, he thinks -- Fëanor's mind against his own -- absentmindedly continuing to stroke the elf's head, as though it is one of Angband's cats that he is soothing through a restless night.

But, however this ends -- whatever becomes of him; no matter if they throw down his towers, wrench the wretched West from its dim horizon to these far shores and hew his feet from under him -- he is secure in the certainty of one single thing:

His mind has already won.

• ────────────────────────────────────────── •

Anon, I hope you like this!!! Thanks so much for sending this in and giving me a chance to show my actual serious take on canon-verse Melkor instead of the humorous comic version I keep throwing at all of you ♡

#melkor #morgoth #maedhros #silmarillion #tolkien #silm #my writing #hira writes tolkien #cw: torture #i guess? i should probably tag? i can never tell how much requires a tag #but this is like. a whiff of torture. Torture Lite™ #i'm SO SORRY this took so long!!! Melkor was *N O T* cooperating.T_T #this was supposed to be like. only a couple of paragraphs. but he just wouldn't shut up about how sad he is. #he really wanted to let everyone know how incredibly sad he is. #(edit: also stuck a read more on there because i didn't realize. just how. fucking long this is rip X_X)

[galactic-pirates]

15 questions, for 15 friends

@purlturtle thanks for the tag!

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Technically no. As while I chose my name because I had sort of 'absorbed it into my consciousness' from a TV character, I didn't name myself after them. However, if I had named myself a few years later I probably would have haha (Sam Carter, role model). But nope, not named after anyone.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Teared up a bit yesterday but didn't actually cry. Tuesday. I got scared and it's like a pressure release valve I guess.

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Nope. Never will either.

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? Hmm. I'm not a sporty person. I do keep meaning to take my basketball to the court and play a game of 21 against myself. A million years ago when I was at high school I played cricket. I've always liked tennis but rarely ever had the opportunity to play. The trouble with sports is they generally require other people and I don't do well with people.

DO YOU USE SARCASM? Yeah sometimes. I don't recognise it when other people use it on me though. I'm weirdly literal. I guess I can get my sarcasm as I know I'm being sarcastic.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Oooh interesting, I'm not sure. I mean there's so much to take in about a person in just a single glance. Age, gender, size etc. I suppose it probably boils down to threat assessment - do they look scary?

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOR? Brown

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings 110%. I'm the worlds biggest wuss, I don't do scary movies at all. Anything with a jump scare in it is a huge no-no.

ANY TALENTS? I like to sort things. I'm also good at doing things the exact same way, every single time.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Not my fault, I didn't choose it - Harlow, in Essex (England). Debated whether to answer this but I'm pretty sure it's not my security question anywhere haha.

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? Writing, art, lego, piano, reading, video games. Think that covers the broad strokes but there's a lot to unpack with some of those 'areas'.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? Nope. I don't do well with anything that's alive to be honest, it's too unpredictable for me.

HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5ft 3" (I think). Mum has tried to tell me for years that I'm 5ft 2" because she's 3" and she's taller. But she definitely isn't anymore (I hate that actually, mum should be taller than me, she's the mum but alas shrinkage).

FAVOURITE SUBJECT? What when I was at school? I always wanted it to be English because I do love stories, but we never got to analyse them how I wanted (meta posts my beloved). Honestly it was probably History. It's kinda a story itself. The cause and the effect and the interconnected nature of developments.

These days it's definitely writing. I could talk about it for days.

DREAM JOB? Funnily enough - writer :) Well actually I suppose to be accurate - storyteller. Writing is the medium I am most practiced with but I do hope to level up my art skills enough to utilise those. Illustration, cover art etc. at a minimum but how cool would it be to draw my own graphic novel? I'm a million miles away from being good enough for that but that's why it's a dream.

I have a dozen novel series I want to share with the world. Maybe I will be able to one day.

Erm I don't think I have 15 people I'm comfortable tagging so just anyone that wants to do it.

Here's a blank version for easy copying:

15 Questions for 15 Friends ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? DO YOU HAVE KIDS? WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? DO YOU USE SARCASM? WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOR? SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? ANY TALENTS? WHERE WERE YOU BORN? WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? HOW TALL ARE YOU? FAVOURITE SUBJECT? DREAM JOB?

#long post #I answer things #sam rambles (a lot)

[sunriseverse]

A conundrum and realizations?? Tell me more!!!

HELLO ABBY!!!! thank you for humouring me (also you should be asleep i am making judgmental eyes at you).

anyway. so. you may or may not know this, but i have in my ten years of fandom historically Not Written Or Read Smut. it’s never been something that i had any interest in reading—i am a master at telling when and where to start scrolling because of this—, or writing—because 1. i really didn’t have any ideas for wips that would have necessitated it, and 2. it’s a skillset i never picked up, so by the time i started to have vague ideas about fics requiring smut, i figured it was a list cause.

enter stage left: my sudden devolvement into a danmei blog. now, you may be saying, i don’t see what this has to do with anything, and, generally, you would be right. i don’t have any interest in reading smut for danmei or writing it any more than i did for any of my previous interests.

however.

i began to encounter something. i have a bad habit of scrolling tags and making judgemental comments to myself about which tags i notice over and over, and which ones i notice the lack of. i like to call this the “judgemental too-young too-Old Fan syndrome” because half the time it winds up with me going “GOD you people need a kinkmeme where the fuck is the creativity!!!”. for someone who doesn’t read smut, you will find that in recent years i have developed a lot of OPINIONS about smut. these mostly centre around me being appalled at the lack of creativity, and the repetition that i encounter when scrolling the tags. apparently, when things are fanon, they have their corpses beaten to death in a way that would make any deceased horse jealous—who could have guessed?

now, enter stage right: spite.

one thing that kept bothering me like a tag in the lining of my sweater was something relatively minute: the lack of lesbian smutfics, and in specific, the lack of MONSTERFUCKER lesbian smutfics. why these two, you may ask, and i’ll be honest: i don’t know. one night i just got really pissy about the lack of monsterfucker fics in the tgcf fandom, and the lack of lesbian smutfics, and these two combined forces to produce a multi-hour long rambling to my friend about the topic. yes, that’s right: i plotted a fic out of spite. shocking, truly.

now, i need to reiterate a few things:

my experience with writing smutfic at this point was minimal. technically i had published one before, but, honestly, i wouldn’t count it, mostly because it’s really really short

my ability to plan and execute fics to completion is what has been described as “very, very bad” and “like an armadillo attempting to survive being driven over by a car” and “a paradox unto itself”. mostly by me, to be fair, but i think i’m a pretty good judge of my own skills

most importantly: i do not read smut. generally speaking, beyond the basic mechanics of it, my understanding of sex is very much theoretical and not really ever expanded upon, because i Do Not Care. i have other things to be doing, like my very important powerpoints and my significantly less important papers and paperwork

but i—prometheus, odysseus, ariadne: undeterred. i said, how hard can it be? it’s mostly plot, anyway. i’m sure it’ll be fine. i’m not doing this for the engagement, so even though i know the numbers will be shit, at least i can say that i gave it my best.

this, as you have probably guessed, is the voice of hubris. it whispers to me in the night; tells me things such as “yes, you CAN write a heavily plotty fic!” and “your ability to complete projects is Normal” and other sweet nothings to put me to sleep

abby; audience; dear readers: i did not write it

oh, i tried. for multiple weeks, i tried to craft the plot. i had the image in my head; it was brilliant and beautiful. surely, i said, today will be the day that i spill forth the glamour of this vision onto paper. surely it will spring forth from me like a well untapped!

it did not.

i have the entire page and a half i managed to write over those torturous weeks saved into its own google document. the words are pretty. they glimmer like pearl. they are also disgustingly hollow, and do not in any way match what i was going for: psychological horror. i had many illusions going into the project, and they were quickly crushed.

and so: it languished in my drafts. take as old as time, i’m sure. we’ve all been there; it happens to the best of us.

and then: as if divine intervention, or perhaps merely the result of a faulty alarm: i missed my morning lecture, took a nap, and dreamed of a tumblr post. “write what inspires you,” it said. “skip to the bits you’re excited about. any writing is better than none.” i have no idea if this post is real, or if i made it up, but in the end, it doesn’t matter, because i woke up from that nap feeling like i had been hit by a semi, and instantly said to myself: enough. you need to stop avoiding the elephant in the room. drop the pretensions of plot, and write the smut.

unsurprisingly, life occurred, as it is wont to do. i did not get any writing done for a few days, despite my best intentions.

and then:

picture this: you are me: an average tumblr user of certain personality. perhaps you are a bit petty, and a bit prone to rash decisions. imagine you have just read far too many posts that try and sanitise relationships. imagine you made the mistake of looking up discourse, and now you are feeling irate, and you know precisely one way to deal with this: write as if it’s the only thing stopping you from blowing people up. imagine, if you will: me, crawling out of my cocoon of blankets, somewhere around one am, face a rigid mortis of fury and disgust, dislodging two cats in the process, muttering quietly but passionately to myself: “do you see this shit, fo ye? do you fucking see it? i can’t stand it. i cannot allow this to go on for one more moment. by god, i’m going to write something that would make someone write a callout about me. i’m going to tick as many of those damn boxes as possible, and no one is going to stop me. i am going to write this for myself, and for the vindication it will bring me.”

the next three hours went something like this: i sat down. i opened up my laptop. i spent ten minutes retrieving my windows, which had been closed when my piece of shit computer decided to update itself at some point earlier in the night. finally, i opened up a new google doc. “this is it,” i said to myself. “there is no going back. if you’re doing this, you have to commit to it. you need to fish out every single bit of knowledge you have, dredge up every HINT of understanding you have about erotica, and monsterfucking, and siphon it off the surface like oil to be repackaged and sold without anyone knowing the difference between it and the legitimate item. you. are. going. to. write. a pwp fic.”

unfortunately for all parties involved, my writing has the tendency to go off the rails. an hour and a half in, at just over 3k, the leads had yet to even kiss. “disgraceful,” i said. “is this what they’re paying you for? do you want those ten hits or not? do you want to piss off every person who’s ever called your otp unhealthy or not? get it together, woman.” this, apparently, was a decent strategy; the back half of the fic—about 4k more—i wrote in a fugue state. finally, around 4:50am, i typed the last word, went through the agony of titling, summary, and tags, and hit post. i put away my laptop, coaxed the cats back onto the bed, and passed out, secure in the knowledge that, though no one would probably read it, i had at least accomplished my goals.

due to a combination of events, i did not get around to checking my ao3 until the middle of the next day. as i glanced over my stats for 2023, i made the slightly pleased note that i had hit 75k for the year. nothing seemed amiss in oz; all was as it should be.

and then: the sudden realisation as i scrolled that my latest fic, which had been published for less than one full day, already had 120 hits. strange, i said to myself; it’s about lesbians—nothing i ever write about lesbians gets that sort of attention. but maybe it’s just a glitch—i’m sure this will smooth over quickly and it’ll go to be my least-engaged with fic of the year as expected.

this did not happen.

currently, the fic is over 300 hits. it has been not quite two days. it is close to becoming my most-read fic of the year.

slowly, the realisation began to dawn on me:

it is getting more hits because it is a smutfic

people actually prefer to read smut over gen or t rated works

i may have massively underestimated just how much more people are willing to read e rated fics over anything else

my thoughts on and relationship towards sex, as an act, are something i had vaguely been aware were not necessarily “normal”. i, however, appear to have made the autistic error of determining the vast margin by which it is “not normal”

i have found the key to greater engagement

fortunately, i have a number of other ideas in a similar vein kicking about, as in the past year i have gotten (slightly) more adventurous with my wip ideas

unfortunately, i have discovered that i can only write smut if it’s about women

i am trapped in a paradox of my own making. i am in an m. c. escher painting, and it is my own damn fault

i cannot overstate how much i am [shocked_pikachu.png] over the realisation that people read smut for the smut itself. i understood this concept in the abstract, but much in the way that one would understand quantum physics: that is, i’m sure it’s happening, because people tell me it is, but i have no real life reference nor reason to believe this to be true beyond my belief in others’ words

i have spent the past few days attempting to make joke posts about this and failing miserably. every time i write something i think “that’ll get you a lot of anons diagnosing you from their armchairs” and then, deciding that is the last thing i need, i proceed to delete the posts

the gains from this experiment:

self confidence in my writing skills

a closer approach to my yearly 100k mark

the intense understanding that i need to stop pretending i can plot my fics

things i have not gained from this experiment:

an understanding of why the hell someone would click onto my e rated monsterfucking fic with tentacles

#this got very long oops. sorry abby #thank you for being the token sacrifice at my altar of silliness though #ask #bestie tag #c.txt

[rinisbowen]

how do you feel about tim posting the script that shows that ricky did get those chocolates for gina because it’s making me kinda sad? like fine rini is dead and buried but it just feels wrong that ricky would do that while dating nini.

so...

the anon asked me how i felt about it. this is how i personally feel about it. (and tbh i can't see anything in the tag rn for some reason, so idk if this will show up in the tag or not, so maybe i Don't have to be afraid of sharing my opinions for once this time around lol). r i guess the one thing i have to say off the bat though is that calling ricky a cheater for this is genuinely just incorrect.

--

i'll start with this- it's not canon. maybe the chocolates will become canon next season, maybe they won't, and only time will tell, but for now- the chocolates are not canon. tim went with a very different ending scene to accomplish his goal. i have lots of thoughts on said scene, but everyone treating the dialogue here as canon when tim calls it a first draft is just- not the right way to go about this. even if they went with doing it this way, ricky giving the speech, this is the First Draft. a lot could've changed between that draft and the final cut. but anyway... none of that was said in the show. it's not canon to the show.

--

was this idea a wise choice by tim? no. no it wasn't. why? to me the biggest reason this was not just a bad choice but also kind of a stupid choice is because it takes away the most important part of the whole chocolates thing to begin with. that gina's mom remembered their tradition and sent her something for valentines day because how could she forget her daughter? she remembers every year, no matter how busy it gets. why would this year be any different? that is IMPORTANT.

i do also definitely think it's a possibility that tim didn't actually plan this during season 2... and was inspired by... everything... and maybe that's why he's choosing to ignore this aspect of it... (it goes with the s3 spirit of ignoring a lot of s2) but that's neither here nor there.

--

that said- to take what we got at surface value, and interpret it as though it were a part of the canon timeline of the show, the details are important too.

starting with the fact that ricky says that he got her mom to get them for her.

ricky reached out to gina's mom, to make sure that gina got something from her mom on valentines day.

that is what actually happened, if we take this script as canon.

is making sure his friend, who came to him because she thought he could relate to missing his mom when she's away, gets something from her mom, a problem? (and yes this is of course something ricky can indeed relate to... given he feels abandoned by his own mom)

i see everyone saying 'it's valentines chocolates'- and that's why it's not okay he got them for her while being with nini... but it's not even like ricky actually got her a valentine. ricky made sure her mom got her a valentine.

that isn't even close to cheating. (which is what everyone's saying right now, that ricky's a cheater). and i think people need to keep in mind too that tim has said himself this show would never have a cheating plot because this isn't that kind of show. i'll add as well- cheating requires intent. regardless of how people feel about ricky, which isn't positively in general, prior to this as well as obviously now... he doesn't have the intent factor going on here. (which the whole intent thing is also why i dislike a lot of people's takes on ricky in s3, but that's neither here nor there)

should he have told nini about what he did for gina? that's a whole separate conversation. it probably would've been smart, but i don't think him not doing so is inherently problematic so much as just... dumb. considering what the gesture itself actually was. ricky didn't actually get her the chocolates. (also yes i read the line where he says the chocolates were from him, it's just not... accurate to what he spells out. so yeah.)

but the point remains that the chocolates weren't about ricky, the chocolates were about gina and her mom. while ricky having to remind her mom about getting something for gina does cheapen that, because it means gina's mom forgot to get gina something to begin with, the whole point is that they're from gina's mom. they're a reminder to gina that her mom loves her. which is something she really needs.

it's a sweet gesture on his part. (reference not actually intended) but it's not inherently indicative of him cheating on nini- emotionally or otherwise. i don't think regardless of what we may or may not have confirmed at any point later on that ricky knew he liked gina, even if it is confirmed he did in fact like her at this point (which it isn't as of now).

he was in love with nini. he wanted nini to be the one at his door. he wrote her a song and took an eleven hour bus ride to denver to play it for her for valentines day. (after which point he would've presumably had to get right back on the bus overnight to get back for school in the morning). he wanted to be with her forever. ricky didn't cheat on nini.

i'll also add for everyone saying gina knew he moved before nini did- that's not canon. what's canon is that the show used a comedic beat of nini showing up at his old house the night before valentines day, not knowing he'd already moved to the new place, which chances are... had happened within the last few days since there's literally next to nothing unpacked chances are they talked about this that night. gina canonically knows about it after school the next day. it's possible gina found out he moved first, but the chances are pretty high that she only found out that day at school... with everyone else, and nini knew from the night before.

#in defense of ricky bowen #hsmtmts #//also the script's again not canon so... y'know #ricky bowen #//tbh i don't think there's an audience that will agree with this post. like- no audience whatsoever #//but hey. it's my thoughts on the situation.

[markussenkidd91]

First As Soon as, First Twice: Three Reasons why You Should Not First The Third Time

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#lga transportation to manhattan

[pretty-little-martyr]

hi I'm sorry if this is. idk awkward but I saw your tags on that post about changing how people talk about getting gynecologic care and you might want to look into vaginismus. It's a condition that causes those muscles to tighten up often very painfully anytime any sort of penetration is attempted. Physical therapy, dilators and muscles relaxers can help but ofc its something that should be discussed with a doctor to make sure you're getting the correct treatment. ALSO! You can request laughing gas for pap smears and other invasive gyno procedures. It is something they do. Usually if you tell them any insertion at all is extremely painful it'll be offered but if not you can ask for it. Some places might be able to do full sedation but I think that'd just depend on the facilities since that would require an anesthesiologist as well

and also vaginismus is like extremely super common (iirc at least 20% of people with vaginas experience it at some point in their lives) the problem is just that nobody talks about it because well. Society. this is not something abnormal or wrong with you in a bad way, it's just a medical condition that you happen to have and need accommodations for. if that helps at all

hey thank you for reaching out fr, it's not weird at all! ive been trying to figure out if it's that or just general "pelvic floor problems" whatever that entails. im getting HRT/gender care from Planned Parenthood these days, and they have told me i would Have to get another exam/smear next year (which i am terrified about tbqh) and they've mentioned they'd give me something or other to help, probably laughing gas like you've said (which ive never actually had).

i did tell that gyno that i'd never put anything in me and that even tampons were horribly painful, and their reaction was to act like i was crazy and lying and that never happens to anybody lmao the woman literally stared at me as if she was waiting for me to say 'haha just kidding' and asked me like 3 times over if i was sure i was a virgin at my big age (21 at the time). even after i was crying and bleeding and having a panic attack they were incredibly apathetic towards me. so! yeah. to be quite honest i'm not interested in dilators or physical therapy--not to knock them, i just want my whole shit removed, so why put in that effort and (probably) gain new trauma from putting things in me, yknow? the mere concept kinda makes me ill. im considering looking into surgery sometime soon-ish. my family might lose their shit about it, but, i dont think they can stop me now that i live by myself, and unless their insurance blocks it, i should be good to go on that.

anyway. id be so down to get fully sedated for it. put me under for like 30 minutes to get all that shit done and i dont have to be present for it or acknowledge it at all thanks. also might help in general, if the muscle tightening is something semi-voluntary/if that even is my issue. ive also considered if i just have a very small hole. i think thats referred to as a neovagina? i dunno.

i really appreciate these asks <3 very kind of you and. somehow i did not really register the potential of asking a different doctor about their thoughts on it i guess ASDFGHJK i just sort of. the initial event was traumatizing enough i still sometimes have nightmares, which is super dope, and remembering it too hard makes me feel very violated, so really i try not to talk about it so much. i was super fucking stoned last night, is probably why i even left those tags jhgvbhnjkm.

tldr thank you for your kindness and i am really hoping my next exam will feature me either Unconscious or Off My Ass On Laughing Gas Or Something. if theres some chance i HAVE to keep my equipment rather than getting surgery i may genuinely look into therapies just for my own convenience but beyond that i just really ... really do not want any items up in there.

#sorry if this is super rambly ive had a HELL of a day. i have an awful headache rn and am just trying to be coherent jihuygbvuhj #i left this sitting for the day cause i was too busy to give it a proper response but i did not want to wait so long that i forgor about it #anyways. there was also so much malpractice at that gyno office its insane #i had a horrible reaction to a birth control and they could not have given fewer shits about it #i got a blood test there once and the woman administering it was like 'im bad at these haha' and then proceeded to #1- miss my vein 2- not re-try it and 3- instead squeeze my arm like a go-gurt tube to force blood into the needle. i nearly passed out #i probably had enough shit there for a lawsuit but my mom gaslit me into thinking it was all my fault somehow

[oichanaka]

Rules:

1. Pick one of your OCs. Akabayashi 😎 2. Fill in the question/statements as if you were that OC. 3. Tag four people to do this meme.

1. What is your name ? "Name's Mizuki Akabayashi, nice to meet ya!" 2. Do you know why are you named that ? "Hmm...! Because my mother liked that name?" 3. Are you single or taken ? "Single? Now who'd be interested in knowing that?" the red-haired woman said, flashing the interviewer a toothy grin. "This old oichan's not looking for love, though, sorry." 4. Have any abilities or powers ? "Just my abilities and my abilities alone."

Though she did like to think of them as her power. 5. Stop being Mary Sue. "Mary Sue? Don't believe I know her. Last time I checked, I wasn't her either!" 6. What's your eye color ? "Brown." 7. What's your hair color ? She grinned, her lone eye rolling upward as she pointed at it. "Red, but real color is dark brown." 8. Have any family members ? "Mm... Believe it or not, this old oichan had parents herself at one point - but that person's long gone now. Never heard of having any other relatives, and if I did, well, guess they weren't too interested in taking in a child."

9. How about pets ? "They're not for me." 10. That's cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don't like. "Drugs. Scum like that info-broker or that Izumii. Drug dealers. Men who beat women and children. The drug trade. Sex traffickers. People who want to eat their cake and have it too. Pedophiles." 11. Do have any activities/hobbies that you like to do ? "Let's see... I like going out on walks around town, surfing the net, playing those phone games, fine-dining, socializing with my co-workers, and of course, who doesn't like long walks on the beach?" (<- says she's uninterested in having relations and then flirts, what a silly oichan)

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in anyway ? Her eye averted, thinking of how she used to be and how she currently was. She's hurt a LOT of people, though even now, being what she was, it didn't necessarily bother her. Hurting others was just a part of business, though there were times she wished she didn't have to. Other times she wished she could walk a better path. That road was beyond her now, however, and it was true she wasn't opposed to using her fists if it was required.

'My, I haven't thought of things in such a way in a long time...'

"I have," she finally answered, her lone eye flitzing back to the interviewer. She'd had had a sad smile before, but now, she looked quite serious and solemn. 13. Ever... killed anyone ? The interviewer had asked, shivering at the very real possibility of a "yes".

But Akabayashi looks on upon them much friendlier, as if reassuring. "Say, Oichan's getting a little thirsty. How about a small break and we can start again?" she replies without answering. Though surely it was picked up that she had given her answer indirectly. 14. What kind of animal are you ? "Is this a trick question?" Are they calling her inhuman? Because yeah, she'd been that way. It's deserved. 15. Name your worst habits. "My worst habits, huh. I guess I'm not the easiest person to work with. I can do the things I want that aren't convenient for the rest of the group and I guess I can be a little bit petty, too."

Not to mention, her drinking habits. She should probably cut back a little.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all ? "No." She might have had heroes when she was a kid, but she can't remember who.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual ? "It's a tough one, when it should probably be easy. All I know is I like women and don't find myself interested in men." 18. Do you go to school ? "Oichan's long been out."

More like dropped out- or even expelled... 19. Ever want to get married and have kids one day ? "As far as it goes, Oichan isn't expecting love or marriage to be written into the story for her. Two women can't get married here, anyway."

She thought about the having kids part and answered, "Don't think I could ever envision myself pregnant or doing…you-know-what. But if I did find myself with someone, and she already had kids or wanted to do something like use a sperm donor… well, maybe."

A big maybe, as Akabayashi did not think she would ever feel close to someone like that again and did not believe she could ever be a good enough parent or partner but who knows. 20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys ? "If I do, they have a funny way of showing it," the redhead replied, peeking knowingly over her shoulder at the assailant that had been slowly creeping up behind her. That and a ferocious smile seemed to have scared them enough to send them running in the opposite direction. 21. What are you most afraid of ? The redhead paused as she thought on it, losing the smile from her face.

Fears. Things she was scared of. What were those anymore, when you've seen enough things and were personally responsible for horrors yourself?

Looking into her heart, Akabayashi supposes her only fears these days were something as simple as losing the people she loved. Anri, gone. Akane, gone. Hurt, murdered... The thought filled her with dread and worry. Even if she couldn't keep them close, the redhead wanted to protect the two and ensure their well-being; ensure they didn't stray from the right path. 22. What clothes do you usually wear ? "Just a shirt, suit, slacks, and shoes." 23. What's one food that tempts you ? "Oh, I'm a glutton for the good and the delicious. Oichan doesn't have a lot of willpower when it comes to tasty things..." 24. What class are you (low/middle/high) ? "I don't have this bling on me for nothing." With a smirk, she pulled her collar down a bit to help reveal the gold chain she wore. 25. What are your thoughts on pie ? "It's good."

Pizza pie, that is! She hasn't really had pie-pie before. 26. Favorite drink ? She liked hard liquor but also liked sweet drinks, that said. So much to choose from, but the redhead guesses she should just go with her usual and settles for that.

…what do you mean they didn't mean alcohol? 27. What's your favorite place ? "Anywhere that isn't stuck in traffic."

That was probably at home. 28. Are you interested in anyone ? There was someone, but neither was the interest ever reciprocated or the person still around. Still, she dreamt of her, she thought of her, and she wished to see her again. It happened even as the feelings decreased over time, despite a belief that she for sure was over it by now. But there was always that lingering sadness. 29. That was a stupid question. "It's not stupid at all."

Mainly because it made her think of Sayaka and she did not think of Sayaka as stupid. 30. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean ? "The ocean, definitely." 31. What's your type ? Type of drink? Sunglasses? Phone? Be more specific. 32. Camping indoors or outdoors ? "Oichan is an indoors type of person."

At least when it concerns getting bitten by bugs. 33. Any fetishes ?

"A-ah..." Caught totally off-guard, Akabayashi felt the heat go to her cheeks. "Who wants to know a thing like that... Nah..."

#quizes #I was supposed to post this weeks ago but forgot xD #ic.

[1kook]

skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf 

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…” 

 Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane. 

 Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot. 

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form. 

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds. 

They were his favorite. 

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this. 

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month. 

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity. 

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings. 

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream. 

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. 

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping. 

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since! 

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind. 

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck. 

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go. 

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen. 

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins. 

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?” 

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world. 

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.” 

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.” 

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here. 

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action. 

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes. 

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high. 

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time. 

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down. 

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.” 

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now. 

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly. 

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist. 

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy. 

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can. 

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck. 

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer. 

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question. 

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. 

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.” 

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides. 

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.  

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry. 

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes. 

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be. 

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest. 

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly. 

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?” 

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign. 

He strikes while the iron is still hot. 

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion. 

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort. 

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months. 

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it. 

Kinda. 

Probably. 

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over. 

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing. 

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders. 

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off. 

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy. 

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face. 

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing. 

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting. 

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.) 

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you. 

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone. 

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more. 

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs. 

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it. 

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him. 

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top. 

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror. 

He’s never seen you like this before. 

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life. 

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips. 

And then something unforgivable happens. 

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information. 

Your hand. 

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness. 

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face. 

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant. 

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.” 

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.” 

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him. 

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him. 

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip. 

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now. 

The sympathy doesn’t last long.  

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams. 

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand. 

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this. 

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches. 

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are. 

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out. 

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him. 

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead. 

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.” 

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands. 

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!) 

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead. 

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises. 

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock. 

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon. 

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time. 

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.” 

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago. 

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap. 

There was never a choice.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡ #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts jungkook #mine #skirtfic

[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

#nile freeman #linguistics #TOG POC Love Fest #nileweek2021 #tog meta #tog #long post #mine #antiblackness #jewish things #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

[tsukishumai]

pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky. 

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out. 

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace. 

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously. 

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift. 

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly. 

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head. 

Semi Nude. 

You blinked once. Then twice. 

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands. 

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe. 

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway. 

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant. 

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro. 

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way. 

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes. 

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream. 

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs. 

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin. 

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing. 

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind. 

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden. 

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home. 

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out. 

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you. 

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.” 

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!” 

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you. 

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture. 

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose. 

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles. 

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear. 

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves. 

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.” 

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you. 

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip. 

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb. 

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze. 

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought. 

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you. 

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him. 

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing. 

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that. 

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani. 

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t. 

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year. 

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected. 

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush. 

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs. 

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning. 

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.” 

“No, I definitely know you —“ 

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto. 

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door. 

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?” 

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder. 

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out. 

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket. 

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder. 

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.” 

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“ 

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door. 

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in. 

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare. 

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen. 

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door. 

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?” 

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door. 

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift. 

#bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto kotaro x you #bokuto kotaro x y/n #bokuto fluff #bokuto kotaro headcanon #bokuto koutaro scenarios #bokuto imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x y/n #haikyuu!! fic

[browniefox]

Hey hello, if by any chance do you have advice for someone writing fics for the first time in their life?

I have an overall idea of how the story would go, but find it hard to tie everything. I also fear some things will sound repetitive.

Thanks for reading.

Hm, let's see. It's admittedly been a while since I've been new to this, but I do have some suggestions!

Writing

I'm not saying anything new, but writing is like a muscle, and you only get better by doing it. Reading is useful, but writing takes time and gdsgaldfdk no gonna lie, it's hard. A good bit of advice is write down what you want in the story - I know that sounds like baby's first piece of advice, but I forget to write things down and then it gets all jumbled and then I forget things. So please, write down your ideas as like bullet points, and then order them if you can.

What do you mean by repetitive? Like the story itself is repetitive, or other people are doing similar fics? If the story itself is a repetitive structure, peer feedback is always good, ask somebody what they think can and can't be cut (and that's no a personal slight against you, remember that). If the fic is like another kind, 1) nobody is complaining about two cakes at a party. 2) Give it something that'll make it unique. Throw in another character, a different destination, a spin.

I usually write chapter-by-chapter and post when one is done. There's no requirement as far as chapter length, but for me personally 2k words is usually good, though if your chapter has a natural stopping point before then, that works too. Getting a beta reader is probably a good idea, though I personally have never used one or know how to get them or know how they work (I imagine it's like an editor/peer review?).

Writing should be fun and for you, first and foremost, especially when writing fics. If you stop having fun, it's okay to stop writing.

Posting

I recommend posting on AO3, but that's like the only place I post so I guess I'm biased.

Tag your fic correctly. There's probably a million and a half opinions and guides to doing that, but here's what I can offer.

1) Good Title. Don't worry over it too much, though. Song lyrics, snappy word, just something that's eye catching.

2) Again, tag your fic correctly. Let people know what it's about. This isn't like picking up a book from the library, you're trying to let the reader know what you're about.

3) A good summary, and by that I mean tell the reader what they're getting into again. Be up front. Just a couple sentences is usually okay, though longer is also fine. More than anything, what I mean by this is don't say 'sorry i'm so bad at summaries!' You can go ahead and say something like 'first fic :D', but you should never degrade your work. Like, don't say 'this probably isn't good, it's my first fic'. If you can't believe in your fic, how can you expect readers to?

4) Don't worry over numbers. I know it's easy to, lord knows I have to remind myself of this, but numbers mean nothing. Commends, kudos, bookmarks, views, it's fine I promise. This is why your write for yourself.

Uh idk if any of that is helpful. If you need any more advice or clarification or anything, go ahead and ask

#browniefox speaks #ask #asks #anon

[littlesniggy]

hello ı was trying to find you but i finally found and may can i ask young vinsmoke brothers s/o wants to see sora ?

Honestly, I still had no idea what you wanted me to write exactly. I mean, Sora died when they were still kids and I'm pretty sure that neither of them had a s/o back then....🙈So, I kinda went with what felt the best for me I guess? If it's not what you had in mind I'm sorry but I really had no idea how else to write it...😅

So, this is the Vinsmoke brother's s/o wanting to see Sora's grave and their reaction to it. Hope you enjoy it anyways....😅

Ichiji

He’s confused as to why you would want to see his mother’s grave. It’s not like he was particularly close to her so it kind of irritates him that you seem to have some interest in her. “Why do you wanna see it, Y/n? She’s dead. It’s not like you knew her.” He’d ask, raising an eyebrow in annoyance.

But if you keep insisting he will eventually oblige but only under the requirement that you will drop the topic of his mother after that. He will lead you to her grave and look it up and down. It’s nothing pompous; just a plain black grave stone with the Germa 66 sign and her name on it. That’s it.

He will keep his distance to the grave, not having any interest in pretending like he cared. If you were thinking he would maybe start and talk about his mother, you’re gravely mistaken. He’s spent all his childhood with his siblings and father. There was simply not room in visiting his mother (nor interest) and therefore he knows almost nothing about his mother other than what he’s been told.

If you’re taking too long he will get impatient and tell you to hurry up. “It’s just a piece of stone with a name on it. Nothing more.” It’s harsh but honestly, he doesn’t care. His mother is none of your business and from then on he will shut every conversation you want to have about her down. There’s just no use to dwell in the past or mourn the dead.

Niji

Much like his brother he’s confused. “Where does this stupid question come from?” he’d ask, raising one curly eyebrow in question. When you tell him that you’re just curious about his mother in general he’ll laugh at you. Not like a teasing laugh but full out make fun of you.

“Do you think you’ll become closer with my family if you pretend to care about our dead mother?” he’s amused and he wouldn’t even be sorry if you started crying. In his mind you had it coming and he did nothing wrong. Maybe out of pity he’d oblige and show you her grave but he will not stop making fun of you.

“That’s is. Happy?” he doesn’t even take a second look at his mother’s grave, already turning around to go back to the castle. “You know the way back, font you?” he’ll ask but will already be gone by the time you answer.

Niji will tell his brothers about your weird request and will make fun of you with them together. Like Ichiji, he’s never been close to Sora and so he doesn’t care if she’s dead or alive. Given, he wouldn’t even care if one of his siblings or his father died. It’s just the way he was designed. He wouldn’t even try to understand your thought process if you told him. He simply doesn’t care.

Sanji

Out of all of them Sanji would really want to oblige but since they’re not on his family’s ship(s) he doesn’t know how to show you. He’s been thinking about his mother more often than not, especially since he met you. He just thinks it would’ve been nice if you and his mother got to know each other.

He will, however, tell you every story he can remember about his mother. He will even tell you the story about how he cooked something for her and how she (probably) pretended it was the most delicious food she’s ever tasted.

It will also bring back the horrible memories about his brothers and father but he tries to hide it behind his usual easygoing behavior. And don’t push him. If he doesn’t want to tell you, he won’t, no matter how much you ask. It’s a miracle he even told you about his mother. Not even his friends know about it so you should feel special.

If the chance of visiting her grave presents itself in any way, he will show you her grave, probably taking some flowers and something self-cooked with him to place on her grave. He likes that you are there with him and support him emotionally. It just helps him a lot.

Yonji

Like Ichiji and Niji, he finds your request ridiculous. Who do you think you are just asking something like this? “Are you stupid? Why would you wanna see her grave? Did you know her?” it doesn’t dawn on him that you might be interested on learning more about his family. And his mother just so happened to be a part of said family – a famous part at that.

“It’s on the other side of the castle. Go, take a look. But it’s nothing special.” He’ll tell you, not even intending to show it to you personally. Maybe he’ll tag along if you are persistent enough but only if you’re not too annoying.

If he tags along he will keep his distance from you and the grave, his attention on you anyways. He tried to figure out why you kept insisting on seeing this ugly piece of stone in the first place.

But even if you tried to explain it to him, he wouldn’t understand, He’d get the meaning of your words but he can’t comprehend them on an emotional level. Like Niji, he’d probably make fun of you and think it’s stupid. But don’t feel bad. It’s nothing personal; he’s just designed to not care about ‘minor’ stuff like this.

#one piece #op #op imagine #op headcanons #Vinsmoke sanji #sanji #Vinsmoke ichiji #ichiji #vinsmoke niji #niji #Vinsmoke yonji #yonji #Sanji x reader #Ichiji x reader #Niji x reader #yonji x reader #vinsmoke sora #sanji headcanons #ichiji headcanons #Niji headcanons #yonji headcanons #headcanon #fluff

[quirklessidiot]

title: yours always, Y/N Pairing: father!gojo satoru x fem!reader Genre: fluff, minor romance, mild angst ish?

Synopsis: “...afterall, when it comes to our child, they don’t need to be special or great. The very fact that our baby was born into this world, makes me grateful and happier than anyone else in the planet.”

Warnings: none...i guess...

Notes: idk bro just got in the mood to write something short and got inspired by carla jaegers words about eren in aot foq, hope yall love it. I just noticed i reached 1k tbh i dont know when but thanks guys ahhh, ill probably release a jjk sukuna short series after i finish the requests for the 900 milestone and my exams and requirements  this week (sorry hayahh i swear school and college just wants to murder me dont worry, the requests are going to be done soon), thanks for the patience ily all and stay safe and hydrated!

masterlist , taglist 

toru,

I’m elated.

Gojo Satoru stares at the night light of angels dancing across the ceiling, the baby on the crib is fast asleep and undisturbed by her father’s nearby presence as she calmly breathes in and out. Despite his senses heightened, his mind was seemingly on the words that kept repeating on his head like a broken record.

We’re finally going to be blessed with a child. Can you believe it? Our own little angel. The minute I found out about it, I didn’t know how I should tell you at first. Despite us trying a few times, the idea haunted us because of our jobs.

The white haired male shuts his eyes briefly as he tries to recall a fond memory of you breaking the news to him.

But it took a turn for the better! You were so excited and you were at my beck and call and even got us a cozy home, hidden from all your adversaries.

The baby’s cries snapped him out of his daze, it seemed like she needed a little snack or she was probably like him, always wanting attention from loved ones.

He inwardly chuckles as he reminisced early times before you both had Kira, how clingy and touchy he’d be towards you and how easily annoyed you’d get. It took quite the turn when you got pregnant, this time, you were the one that got clingier and even more touchy when his little angel was still a little fetus. 

I wonder if they’ll look as angelic as you? My, you’ll definitely be having competition. I’d dote over them a lot more than you. Hopefully if they do get your looks, they won’t get your sweet tooth. I’m not fond of being a regular at the dentist and saying no to our baby.

Picking the small infant and placing it on his arms as he softly patted her back and hum the soft tune that you always sang to him after a long day. Kira starts to calm down as he lulls her. The soft cries of the child soon then turn to coo’s, “Seems like you just wanted otosan’s attention, huh?” he mumbled.

You know, when they ask me if our baby was going to be as great as you, I could only muster out a small laugh by how absurd that sounded. I hope you agree with me on this but our little child doesn’t need to be as special or as great as you.

Afterall, when it comes to our child, they don't need to be special or great. The very fact that our baby was born into this world, makes me grateful and happier than anyone else on the planet.

Satoru keeps rocking her slowly to the point where he doesn’t even notice the small tear escaping his eyes.

I hope you love our baby as much as you love me.

I know how selfish it sounds, Toru but you’ll have to promise me that no matter what happens. It’ll always be our baby.

Our beautiful sweet angel.

“Okaasan loves you,” he softly whispers as the child slowly starts to close her eyes again, “and I love you, very, very much.”

He kisses her twice on the forehead, one kiss from him and another for the mother that she’ll never get to meet.

It’s a quiet night and once again, he reminds himself that things will look up and the sun will shine on him and the angel on his arms again.

Yours always,  Y/N

taglist [if crossed out, it means you aren’t available for tags!]

@airybnb​​ ;  @hcn421​​ ;  @shinhiromi​

#gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #saturo x y/n

[storybookstalker]

. Leona Kingscholar

Main Yandere Type → Possessive | Lucid

☀ Leona is one of the hardest yanderes to attract, he simply can’t bring himself to care about some random herbivore. His darling was either put into a situation where they had to interact with him often, or otherwise are around him on a regular basis. But if they manage to catch his attention? Good luck! Once Leona wants something, he’s willing to actually put some effort in to claim his darling. 

☀ How much effort he puts in depends on the darling. He might just ask Ruggie to go and fetch his darling for him; he’s in the mood to sleep on something that’ll massage him while he naps. Huh? They won’t come? Argh, they’re lucky he wants them. Leona will hunt them down himself, but he’s not gonna be nice to them about it. He’ll either forcefully drag them back to his room or just find a shaded area to nap under. They’re not gonna get away from him either way. 

☀ Leona knows that they probably don’t feel anything for him, but he doesn’t care. They’re his herbivore, whether they want him or not. He doesn’t care enough to “punish” them, but he’s not afraid to put them in their place. They belong to him, and they better recognize it sooner rather than later; it’s annoying when they try to fight him. 

☀ Of course, he does actually want them to feel some affection for him eventually… or at least, it would be nice if they did. He’s gonna keep them around either way, but them loving him would make things easier. Though, there are times where Leona gets angry that they don’t love him. They spend so much time together, is he really so horrible that they can’t bring themselves to care about him? Not that it matters in the end, he guesses. 

☼ → “Oi, let’s go nap in the gardens. That wasn’t a question.” 

☼ → “Wanna dip? Hah. You’re actually listening to this? I’ll sum it up for you, if it means you’ll come quietly.” 

☼ → “Are you trying to annoy me? Keep it up and see where it gets you.”

. Ruggie Bucchi

Main Yandere Type → Stalker | Manipulative 

✂ Ruggie isn’t overly expressive of his obsession with darling. He does his best to act normal, if not try and add some charm in. He knows his feelings are nowhere near normal, and he’d hate to scare his precious prey away. 

✂ If he wants something, he has to carefully work for it, he’s learned. This extends to his darling! Obsessively stalking, learning more about darling. Who they hang around with, what they find desirable, what they want to do; he’ll do whatever he needs to. They’ll be his, he doesn’t care what he has to do. Afterall, he did so much to ensure Savanaclaw won in Magift, similarly he would go to great lengths to possess his prey. 

✂ Ruggie knows he isn’t the most… well, anything really, or at least he feels that way. He can’t just growl like Leona and have them tremble, so if playing up his cute act in front of them gets him attention then you bet he’s gonna be the cutest hyena they know. Ruggie will play up any part of his personality that he knows they like, slowly adding and mixing them into his actual personality. Who knew using his free time to stalk them would end up being so helpful? 

✂ While Ruggie desperately wants to monopolize his darling in everything they do, he unfortunately doesn’t have the kind of resources that would require. So he resorts to manipulating them into preferring him over anyone else as much as he can. He’ll just have to make them fall for him, that way he doesn’t have to kidnap them in order to keep them to himself. Which is ultimately what he wants, for his darling to belong to him and only him. 

✄ → “I don’t have the time to constantly babysit you, but I wouldn’t mind if you tagged along anyway.” 

✄ → “You look so silly right now shishishi! You should really see your face.”

✄ → “Be careful who you trust! Not everyone is as nice as me.”

. Jack Howl 

Main Yandere Type → Protective | Possessive

🐺 Jack isn’t the worst yandere to attract! Sure, he might want to break the face of anyone he deems even remotely a threat, but he would never hurt his darling! At least, not in a way they wouldn’t like. Though, he is another hard yandere to attract in the first place. He’s very careful about who he starts to develop feelings for, since wolves have a single partner for life. So he’ll try to push his feelings aside for a little while, only to realize how stressed he is at not knowing if his darling is safe. 

🐺 He’s intense, hating when others give them too much attention, or when they give others too much attention. He doesn’t blame his darling, he knows it’s not their fault that some trash is taking up their time. They’re just being distracted, that’s all! He won’t directly ask for attention when he gets jealous like this, at least not at first, but eventually he’ll want it enough that he’ll drag them back to his room (or theirs). He’ll try to hold back though, he doesn’t want to make his darling feel smothered. Yet.

🐺 He’ll start walking his darling to and from their classes, spending as much time with them as they’ll allow him to. Jack comes off as their overprotective guard dog at times (especially to outsiders). He just wants to help as much as he can, with anything really! Need some help studying? Can’t guarantee that he can but he’ll do his best! Need to get someone off your back? Tell him who, darling won’t ever have to worry about it again.

🐺 Jack, although one of the most reluctant yanderes, becomes one of the hardest to shake once he accepts his feelings. His darling will be his. He wants their love over all else, so he’s not likely to kidnap his darling. Not for a long time, at least. 

☽ → “Hmph. If you keep coming in late, I might have to start walking you to class. Not that I’m worried, or anything.”  

☽ → “It’s too loud and annoying here, I’m going. Did you want to come with me?”

☽ → “Where’s your next class? Do you want to walk together? My next class is around there, too.”

- Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia -

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere Jack howl #yandere savanaclaw #yandere dorm leaders #yandere first years #yandere Leona #yandere Ruggie #Yandere Jack #yandere writing #yandere #yandere video game

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 5

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Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Marinette listened in on Tim for three days.

Not actively, of course, she didn’t hang onto every word he said. She just let her consciousness drift in and out of the conversations he had while she worked on finishing up the outfit she had designed for Audrey...

And, yeah, she was getting to the point where she was willing to bet on him being an okay guy. Better than okay, even. He was just so… genuine?

The first two days he had come in sick. She knew the signs of working while sick by heart, the trudging around and the groaning and the constant banging your head on the desk when you pass out randomly, and damn she was pretty sure even she wasn’t as bad as him. He probably shouldn’t be working at all, to be honest, he was CEO and there was nothing stopping him from taking the day -- or even just a few hours -- off. But, no, from the sound of it he was drinking ungodly amounts of coffee and calling it okay.

And despite the fact that he seemed absolutely miserable, he hadn’t taken it out on anyone. She had yet to hear him be impolite to anyone, not even the people that worked under him. His secretary had made a scheduling mistake and he had not only assured her it was fine but didn’t even require her to fix it.

Even when he was talking to himself while working he never once said anything questionable. And he talked to himself a lot. It was like a podcast, honestly, just hearing him rattle off numbers and weird business terms she hadn’t learned because she was self-taught. He talked almost constantly and he should have slipped up by now, yet here she was three days later with nothing to show for it except for a whole lot of guilt.

Marinette hadn’t thought much about it on the first day, everyone had their good days from time to time. On the second day she said ‘oh, it’s a coincidence’, but on the third day she had to call it: her paranoia had been a little unfounded.

Literally the worst thing about him so far was that he didn’t seem to care much about his own health… and that wasn’t really a bad thing about him as much as it was a bad thing for him.

So, yeah, it looked like she had no real reason to listen in on him anymore.

… but…

Something about him was nagging at her. He was a nice guy and she’d like to be his friend… it was just that, sometimes, she could swear she recognized his voice.

And it wasn’t like there were a lot of people she knew in America, she knew who he probably was.

Her hand itched towards the tiny device hidden under her window seat. One click (and maybe a little researching) and she’d know for sure who the bats were. The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that, if she did know their real names, she’d accidentally call them by them once and immediately get thrown either into a cell or out of Gotham. She was a meta (kind of), she was already on thin ice. She didn’t need the paranoid idiots that were the bats being more wary of her than they already were.

So, she left it alone.

She kept the bug, though. Mostly just because she wanted to hear it directly from him rather than just guessing by his voice. After all, voices can be similar. If he were to directly talk about bat business while she was listening in, though… that would definitely be a point towards her theory, to say the least.

And, yeah, she knew it was kind of messed up. She could be listening in on some innocent guy for all she knew, but it was… morally kind of okay? The whole thing about stalking is that it makes your victim feel unsafe. If he was Red Robin then he had found the bug and hadn’t felt unsafe enough to remove it and if he was a civilian then he would never know about the bug and therefore couldn’t feel unsafe. Therefore, it wasn’t stalking, not really.

… yeah, that makes sense.

She glanced at her sketchbook and yawned. She really needed to get a new outfit idea soon. Good thing Tim said he was taking her out tomorrow --.

Shit, Tim was taking her out tomorrow.

She jumped up from her spot at the window and ran to her closet. What to wear, what to wear...

Frenchie: where are we going tomorrow

Spiderman: It’s a surprise.

Frenchie: fuck your surprises tim what do i need to wear

She heard his laugh crackle through her earpiece. Rude.

Spiderman: Casual clothes.

Frenchie: there are LEVELS of casual tim

Spiderman: Oh, so we’re breaking out the capital letters. This must be serious.

She scoffed. Of course it was serious.

Frenchie: just tell me what to wear

Spiderman: A t-shirt and jeans is fine.

Kwamis, send her strength. Like she was going to wear a t-shirt and jeans. Did he even know who he was talking to?

But at least she had a gauge on how casual she could go. She picked out a light pink button down and black shorts for herself and then, because she had a little bit of foresight, she added some black tights.

She smiled faintly and dropped back in her bed.

She couldn’t wait to see where he was going to take her.

She found out the next day. Because that’s how things work.

She raised her eyebrows. “There’s no way it’s actually called a ‘space museum’. You’ve gotta be lying.”

Tim shrugged, a grin poking at his lips. “Do you really think I’d make it up?”

“Well, considering your outfit, I’d say you aren’t the most creative of guys so maybe you did,” she teased.

Tim looked down at his outfit and pouted. He was wearing little more than a black turtleneck and pants under a white jacket. “Must you make fun of every outfit I wear?”

“Only the bad ones. Seriously, would it kill you to wear a little bit of color?”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I thought to bring a jacket. It’s thirty degrees!”

She had forgotten that Americans used Fahrenheit, sue her.

Of course, she was never going to admit to this. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’m just not a wimp.”

He snickered. “Oh, so you’re not cold?”

“Not at all.”

“Then stop hugging that coffee cup.”

She looked down at the coffee cup that was her only source of warmth and happiness in this cruel world that had two different measuring systems (three if you counted Kelvin). She gripped it tighter. “... no.”

He rolled his eyes again and, after a beat of hesitation, shrugged his jacket off and offered it to her.

Marinette normally wouldn’t give in this easy… but she really was cold and his clothes were far thicker than hers were and she knew that her teeth would start chattering soon which would have been so embarrassing...

So she blushed faintly and slipped the jacket on. It smelled like ungodly expensive cologne. “Thanks.”

He grinned. “I’m taking your coffee as payment.”

“No --!”

~

After dropping by a cafe so Marinette didn’t kill him, Tim took her to the space museum (yes, that actually was what it was called).

He thought she would have missed the night sky. Gotham hardly ever had a clear night due to the thick smog that hung over the city like a curse. And they spent quite a lot of time outside at night, she must have been feeling a little homesick.

So, he rented out the museum for the day. Yes, the whole museum. He was rich and mildly famous and what was the point of that if he wasn’t going to use it to make the people he cared about happy? He doubted she would be able to enjoy the sights as much if people were constantly taking pictures of them and asking about their relationship.

She raised her eyebrows just slightly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the lack of people.

They slipped through the rooms quietly in search of inspiration.

Many of the rooms were your typical museum things: exhibits showing off different space rocks and explaining stars and supernovas. They didn’t stop much here, obviously, there was little to be inspired by. The most that happened for a long while was Marinette stopping from time to time to take a picture of a nice color that she wanted to try and replicate later.

And then she had stopped to look at a spacesuit. She blinked a few times before breaking into a grin and flipping to a new page in her sketchbook. He could barely make out the name ‘Jagged’ from where he was fiddling with his camera a respectable distance away.

So, Marinette, at least, was having a productive time. Tim was… a little stressed, to be honest.

Tim was having a particularly hard time getting ‘inspired’.

It had been years since he had picked up his camera, which was certainly a problem but it wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he had never been one to take pictures of locations or objects. Sure, there was the occasional picture of the Gotham skyline, but he had always had a tendency towards taking pictures of people. Batman and Robin working as a team to take out a bunch of thugs, Robin and Nightwing racing each other across the rooftops, Batman and Nightwing stopping for ice cream after a particularly long patrol… and now he wanted to take pictures of Marinette.

But that would be weird because a) the first day he had implied he took pictures of attractions in order to alleviate suspicion about why he just so happened to be on the same rooftop as her and b) she probably wouldn’t think they were close enough for him to take pictures of her.

He kind of wished he could just go back to the old days where his subjects didn’t know he was there and he wouldn’t have to worry about what they would think about him if he took a picture of them.

His fingers itched towards the camera hanging from his neck because she looked so cute with her tongue poking out of her mouth and her orange, yellow, and white colored pencils sticking out from between her fingers like little Wolverine claws and he loved the way his jacket looked on her and --.

“You can stop staring, I’ll be done as fast as I can.”

His brain shorted out and the only response he could come up with was a squeaky: “Sorry?”

She looked up from her work with an awkward smile. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I just… if I don’t do it now it’ll slip my mind. I’m working as fast as I can, though.”

He was rebooting. Give him a minute.

Ah, there it was.

Wait, she thought he was being impatient?

“Nononono take your time, it’s fine! I just...”

He trailed off before he could finish the thought because this was the second time they had hung out he couldn’t make things awkward between them already.

… but she was giving him a confused, vaguely concerned, look and he was pretty sure that if he didn’t come up with something soon it would be awkward anyways.

“IwasjustwonderingifIcouldtakeapictureofyou?” He blurted out before he could stop himself again.

She blinked once. Twice. And then a blush spread across her face.

“Oh. Uh… sure?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said.

“It’s fine. A little sudden but… fine,” she said with a tiny smile.

Tim couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

Not one to be blushy for long, apparently, Marinette flashed a wink. “Should I call up my friend Adrien for modeling tips or…?”

He rolled his eyes and schooled his face back into his usual grin. “It’s fine, just keep working. I’ll figure out angles and stuff.”

She tipped her head to the side confusedly. “Don’t you need me to be still?”

He didn’t look up from messing with the settings of his camera. “Not at all. You’re probably going to be one of my easier pictures.”

“... thanks…?”

“I do mostly nighttime photography. Capturing things in motion without it blurring requires a --.” He cringed. “Sorry, um… basically, when you want to take photos of things that are moving fast, you need a lot of natural light.”

“... you can talk about it more in depth, if you want.”

He shrugged. “I’d bore you.”

“I like your voice,” she said… then she seemed to realize the implications because she cleared her throat and did her best to backtrack: “In comparison to every other American I’ve heard so far, at least. Why do your accents… sound like that?”

“Ah, yes, because everyone knows that French people have the best accents.”

“Excuse you, I have been told by many people that my accent is actually very nice.”

He grinned. “By whom? Half-drunk men on the street?”

She gasped as if offended. “I get my information from much more reliable sources... like drunk women in bathrooms, thank you very much.”

“I see. My mistake. I apologize.”

“As you should.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t you have a design to make?” She looked down at her sketchbook and a silence stretched between them as she squinted at her design.

“You forgot what you were doing, didn’t you?”

She groaned and rested her head in her hands.

He took a picture of her exasperated pout.

~

Marinette ended up with two outfits.

One was for Jagged, based off of the spacesuit she had seen. She had figured that, with all the songs he wrote about being free, there was bound to be one about how he ‘finally had his own space’. It was good to be prepared.

The other was for Cassandra Wayne. Marinette hadn’t thought much about it, to be honest. She just knew that Cassandra liked the color black with designs on top of it, and that the planetarium had a nice star pattern that would work for that. It would be super expensive, what with all the gems she would need, but it wasn’t like the Waynes couldn’t afford it.

… and then she looked up to see Tim pouting.

She giggled, resting her head on her hand. “What?”

“My sister is getting a dress and I’m not.”

Oh, so he was an actual fan. Interesting.

She brushed that conversation aside in favor of teasing him: “You want a dress?”

“Yes! No? Yes? I --.” He huffed and took a seat in the chair next to her. “I have faith anything you make will look nice.”

She felt a blush rise to her face and she rolled her eyes. “Hm. Telling the person in charge of your wardrobe ‘I have full faith in you’ is a terrible idea.”

“Oh? I don’t think you, in good conscience, can make and give me anything bad.”

She squinted at him for a minute before breaking into a grin. “Wanna bet?”

He leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing her for a few moments, before smirking. “Sure, how about we put five thousand on it?”

She choked. She’d forgotten he was rich rich.

She was quick to backtrack: “Nah. With all your fashion choices so far I can’t trust you not to wear it to some Gala or whatever it is you rich people do.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

She grinned and looked down at her sketchbook. After a few seconds she flipped to a new page. She squinted at his outfit for a few moments before starting to doodle something.

“What’re you making now?”

“I’m making you something with some color.”

He huffed. “Excuse you, I’m a goth in a family of goths. I can’t wear color.”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I know. I’d say Richard is the black sheep of the family in that aspect but he’s the one wearing color.”

He laughed a little. “So Dick is the white sheep, then?”

“Yea --.” She stopped and then squinted over at him. “Dick?”

“It’s what he insists everyone calls him.”

She looked down at her sketchbook for a moment, processing, and then shook her head. “Your brother has a degradation kink.”

Tim brought his hand to his mouth in stunned silence before pulling his phone from his pocket and definitely not informing the family group chat of his discovery.

She snickered and went to work on the outfit again. It was a simple one, because she didn’t want to go too far out of his comfort zone, but there was no way she was going to be friends with a monochromatic idiot.

She leaned over until her head rested on his shoulder. He tensed up just a little before resting his head on top of hers.

~

When she had finished he took a picture of the planetarium to keep up pretenses and they had made their leave.

… but first, they stopped by the gift shop. Because why not?

Tim could have bought everything there for Marinette -- and probably would have, if asked -- but, considering she had freaked out about five thousand dollars earlier, he figured maybe he should keep that more or less quiet.

Instead, he followed her around while idly bouncing a Saturn shaped bouncy ball. It was a terrible shape for a bouncy ball and he kind of loved it, to be honest. Not to mention the little smile Marinette made behind her hand every time the ball would try another mad dash for freedom was pretty cute.

And then they hit the t-shirt section. And her lips twitched as she reached out and picked up a bright blue shirt that said ‘May the F=MA be with you’ in white text.

“It’s awful. It’s perfect.”

He grinned. “Wow, look at you. You know one of the simplest physics formulas by heart, aren’t you smart?” He joked.

She bowed. “I know, I know.”

He held out a hand for it and she stared at him for a few seconds in confusion.

“I’ll hold it until we get to the front desk.”

She squinted at him. “I’m paying for my own shirt.”

“I can afford it,” he said with a sigh.

“So can I.”

“Either you let me pay for it or I’ll keep track of everything you buy while with me and add it to your commissions.”

“... either you let me pay for it or I’ll never make an outfit for you ever again. I know your measurements and style, Timothy, you won’t be able to get past me.”

They narrowed their eyes at each other, daring each other to call their bluffs…

And then his shoulders sagged. “Fine.”

He’d just have to use his connections to lower prices on fabrics for her. Did he mention that he was rich and mildly famous? Yeah. It was pretty cool.

~

She smiled as she leaned against the doorframe to her apartment. “Thanks for taking me out. It was fun.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled back. She was determinedly ignoring the way his smile made little butterflies flutter in her stomach. She patently hated butterflies. They weren’t allowed.

“I had fun, too. Want to do it again, sometime?”

“... sure, I guess you passed my test.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Your test?”

“Oh, yeah.” She waved him off. “If you had made any creepy comments today I would have blocked you.”

He seemed a little relieved by this information, though she wasn’t quite sure why. “That’s a pretty good test to have in Gotham.”

“I know, I’m pretty smart,” she said jokingly.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

Damn it, now she was blushing. Shit.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you flatter every girl you take to the space museum? Is this your strategy?”

He snickered. “Well, considering you’re the only girl I’ve taken, I’m going to have to say yes.”

She hummed. “I’m glad I’m so special to you, because that means you won’t drop me when I never give you this jacket back.”

He huffed. “You can’t just do that.”

“I can and will,” she teased. Then, because she wasn’t a completely cruel person, she reached up to her coatrack and pulled down a red scarf for him. “Here, take this so it’s more of a trade than stealing.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then you get to walk back to your house in the cold like that.”

He snorted. “What happened to not wanting to steal?”

“At least I offered!”

He rolled his eyes and leaned down so she could wrap the scarf around his neck.

She looked up at him, a blush spreading across her face, and then carefully draped it over his shoulders. “There. Now you have a splash of color.”

He smiled at her. “Ah, I see, this was all just a plot to get me to wear colors. It all makes sense now.”

“Of course.” She tugged him down more by the scarf to press a kiss to his nose. “You should wear red and black more often. They’re totally your colors.”

He smiled a little dopily. “You have no idea.”

She pushed his face away. “Weirdo. Go be cryptic somewhere else.”

“Fine, fine. See you in a few days.”

“See you then.”

~~~

Bonus Batfam group chat stuff

Timtamalam: What if Dick makes everyone call him that because he has a degradation kink?

LetMeLeaveTheChat: i fucking hate this family.

BloodSon: This is exactly the kind of lowbrow humor to be expected of you, Drake.

Timtamalam: I’m unappreciated in my time.

CAss: :0

Timtamalam: See, this is why Cass is the favorite.

YouDontSeeMe: DickJoke please respond

DickJoke: I raised each and every one of you and this is the thanks I get

LetMeLeaveTheChat: sucks to suck, dickwad.

DickJoke: That’s it when I get through all this dumb Heartless stuff I’m coming back to the manor and we’re all going to have family time

CAss: :(

ItsEggplantNotPurple: damn it

YouDontSeeMe: crap

LetMeLeaveTheChat: fuck. and an extra “fuck” on duke’s behalf.

BloodSon: Look at what you have done, Drake.

Timtamalam: Sorry guys.

#stalker x stalker #maribat #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

[cosmiclatte28]

Long Flight (Taeyong x you x jaehyun)

SUGGESTIVEEEE YAHOOO (sorry idk what’s with me, I made this into suggestive fic and the idea started when I took a long flight across Pacific Ocean) 

tagging @neopalette and @yutahoes

a/n : do not proceed if you’re young (innocent) other than that, just go lol i know we’re all thirsty. daddy dom and master kink 

jae is your colleague cabin crew (and your daddy), Taeyong is a famous designer taking first class flights who happens to get you as his stewardess and oh a fun night is about to happen in this long flight 

UH AND IT’S A LONG ASS RIDE

Long flights are a literal pain in the ass. For lee taeyong, long flights are inevitable especially with his business trips that require him to fly from Korea to the Free land of the United States. He is lucky as a designer to be called from one runway to another. Attending photoshoots, ending the runway of his collections and of course after parties.

Though he is never fond of the jetlag and morning flights plus the 12 hours butt pain, he finally meets you. From one of his shittiest flight. He needs to rush to New York but his plane got canceled and that’s how both of you meet. You're in charge of the first class passengers and importantly, him. You're trained to give the best service, making sure his seat is comfortable and his bed ready if he really wants to lay down.

“A long flight ahead sir,” you greet him after keeping his suit on the hanger and helping him with his stuffs.

He looks coy with his fitted bomber jacket and eye glasses. His fragrance reminds you of the forest with deep musk coming out from him.

“Yes and my flight got canceled. I was moved here.” He rumbles, though he is sort of happy because he got upgraded to the first class. His invitation earlier was only for business class but here he is now on the second floor with a nice personal stewardess and of course a bed.

“I am so sorry about that, but i'm here to help you enjoy your flight.” You smile nicely to him.

“For now do you want some drinks?” you take out the menu sheet you’ve prepared.

He takes a glance and smirks “Surprise me? I’m in for an enjoyable flight with you (y/n).” Taeyong winks to you.

You blush, “My pleasure, Lee Taeyong-ssi" you bow before leaving him to take the drink and calm your heartbeat.

You know him, he is famous for his designs and cool godly handsome face. Gosh he really looks handsome!

Your light steps bring you to the bar in the lounge and your fellow mate, Jaehyun, is already busy making orders for the other passengers.

“What may I help you with?” Jaehyun playfully smiles at you and winks. You're used to it, you share almost all of your trips with Jaehyun and you won’t lie, both of you share some nights together.

Your eyes scan the liquor collection and hum while you think “I'll just get him some gin and tonic.”

Jaehyun nods “Who is the special guest tonight?”

You gulp “Lee Taeyong, the famous designer.”

Jaehyun smirks, “Lucky you! Guess I'll be alone tonight and the night after.” He steps out of his cubicle and playfully slaps your ass. You glare at him but he just pushes you the drink and kisses your cheek “Goodluck, heard he was a bad drinker.”

You professionally go back to the narrow hallway and stop just in time to see Taeyong taking off his jacket.

“Here's your drink and please let me help you with your jacket.” You reach out your hands and he gladly passes it to you.

“Hmm gin and tonic, simple but best for me.thanks" he winks and gulps down half of the drink.

His face turns red and you clearly knows tomorrow an apple juice might be a better option.

“Did I turn red?” he asks with big eyes while touching his forehead and cheeks to check his heat.

You nod “A bit sir, but you still look great.” You blurt out and turn shy suddenly when he smiles and runs a finger over your arm “Aw thank you, heard that a lot but it sounds better from your red lips. I wonder why you don’t end up on my runway but here instead in this small airplane!”

He sure is not hearing himself, you know he's more humble than this. Must be the drink.

You just smile and nod “Well, I am glad I can serve you tonight. Now, we'll take off soon. Please fasten your seatbelt and ring me up if you need anything. Enjoy your flight sir,” you bow before returning to your seat so the plane can take off.

Taeyong keeps his eyes on you as you exit the aisle and he can’t help but bite his lips when he sees how perfect you walk in a heel and how beautiful your legs are.

“I should probably start making stewardess uniforms.” He giggles to himself before feeling fuzzy and closes his eyes to sleep.

--

“So, any sign he's into you?” Jaehyun asks after the plane is steady in the sky and you're not called over yet. You sit on the stool and lean your chin on your arms.

“What? No way. He's out of my league.” You look to your arms and feel Jaehyun staring at you.

“Huh? Don’t you see how he looks at you when you leave him?” Jaehyun asks while his hands are still busy making drinks. The bar is empty, the passengers are still mostly sitting on their compartments.

You raise a brow “You were stalking me?”

He wiggles his brow “Gotta make sure you are working and not flirting with him.” He pulls your chin and blows over your lips “I know how naughty my little baby can be.”

You feel heat creeps into your core and cheeks. If both of you are not in duty, you'd play along and ask for drinks already.

“Stop teasing me, I am working.” You cough and try to remain professional though Jaehyun's deep stare is not helping you at all.

“We’re going to stay in New York for two nights, where do we wanna go?” Jae traces random lines on your arm and you hold your breath “I don’t know, guess we can have a night of sleep and the other one for fun.” You wink and his smile blooms “Fun? Are we thinking of the same fun?”

You want to answer him but a bell chimes and you glance to the intercom to see Taeyong's request for your assistant.

Jaehyun sighs “Tough competition I smell here.”

You tap his shoulder “Aw don’t be sad. I'll be right back, promise.” You blow him a flying kiss and tidy up your uniform before marching to Taeyong.

“Yes, how may I help you?” you nicely check on his stuffs, and he looks at you with clouded eyes. Gosh how many alcohol did Jaehyun put earlier? Is Taeyong this light headed?

“I- I want some snacks.” He looks at you with “that" gaze.

You gulp “Oh right, I can do that. We have-" you almost recite him the snack options before he pulls you onto his lap and snakes his arm around your waist.

“Not that snack, come on I know you know it.” He boldly presses his nose on your neck taking a whiff of your scent

You shiver and breathily moan “Sorry sir, I'm on duty.” You remind him but your hands are already touching his hard abs and thigh

Taeyong giggles next to your ear “On duty? baby I saw you flirting with that bartender guy right there. Didn’t you promise me you'll serve me well tonight?” his tone sounds sad at the end and you never like to hear someone sad because of you, so you quickly look around and whisper back to him

“I- I am-" you stutter when he runs his hand closer to your core “You're what princess?” he grins smugly

He sure is drunk. But he's super hot and you're super aroused!

“I am Sorry sir,” you whisper and he smiles with satisfaction.

“Good girl, now after dinner when the bed time is near, I'll ask you to prepare for my room and princess, be ready." He presses a small kiss on your nape and you gasp. Taeyong quickly presses his hand over your lips “uh oh we don’t want to get in touble right?”

You nod and when he taps you back, you get up and return to work like nothing happens.

Dinner is served and you notice the first class passengers are just few tonight. Only Taeyong and three other people. You notice Taeyong's bed is also far from the other's rooms.

He requested for a glass of red wine on dinner and when you collect his plates, you notice he finishes all of it. Wow, just how drunk is he planning to be?

**

“Baby, just remember you owe me one fun night,” Jaehyun whispers next to you when he sees you fix your face and tidy your appearance.

You roll your eyes “You look more interested into him, do you want to join us?” you tease him

Jaehyun turns red and he growls “Baby, try to remember all the wrongs you make today. We'll see if you can get as much spanks as your faults, daddy will reminds his baby about her attitudes.” He palms your breast and you clasp your mouth when you see the light for your duty lights up.

“Duty calls, gotta go-" you lean next to his ears “Daddy,” you kiss him quick and walk to Taeyong.

“Evening sir, tired already? Do you want me to prepare your bed?” You ask the standard procedure and he nods.

“Alright let me take you there, master.” You whisper before kissing him quick and following him to his cubicle.

“You're such a good kitten aren’t you? So ready for your master.” He grins when he sees the small bedroom already tidied up and shone in dim lights.

He goes into the room and after making sure no one sees, you enter and lock the door.

“I am glad I got to do this in first class, not in the lavatory.” Taeyong sounds drunk and confused to which you mentally slap yourself.

“Whoops sorry, ruined the mood. Come here kitty, master can show you how great he is when powered with wine!” he unbottons his shirt and you climb to his lap

“Tell me sir, do you want the soft kitty or bad kitty?” your fingers already play with his hairs and you lightly grind on his lap.

He groans when you touch his hardness and from his hooded eyes he makes his request “Both kitty, both.”

“Greedy, but as you wish master. Your words are my command.” You tie your hair up before diving to a deep desperate kiss with both of your hands roaming wildly around each others curves.

Your breathy moans could be heard if anyone is standing right in front of the door, you don’t mind it though. The room is locked, Taeyong rocks you so well and he is wild on bed. It's like having the best wildest fever dream and you're reaching cloud nine on a plane!

He was a great man in bed, a great master who puts you back in place and a great one to teach your soft side more about the wild fun.

You slip out of his hug when you notice he'd fallen asleep. Gently you tuck back your heels and uniform. Your under garments are broken but you'll skip them

With one sticky post it left on the bedside and a kiss, you slowly creep out from his room to meet your cabin crew.

“last night you were both wild and loud.” Jaehyun already greets you on the bar and you pause in track

“You were eavesdropping?” you turn to look at him

He shrugs his shoulder “Someone ordered a drink, I happened to pass by you and your master.” He playfully scans your body.

“Where did your bra go baby?” He walks closer to you and calmly pulls your chin up to face him.

“Look at daddy when you want to answer.” He warns you when you're about to answer.

Your eyes shake as you lock eyes with his fiery one.

“Broken, i'll change into another pair.” You gulp suddenly feeling small and vulnerable to Jaehyun.

“Don’t bother wearing one. I want to see them suffer in cold.” Jaehyun flicks one of your nub and you shudder

“Yes daddy.” You gulp “Anything else?”

“Oh, no touching yourself until I got to be the one touching you. Also, once we land… you're taking a room with me.” He takes your neck and pulls you into his chest “I want all of his traces gone by the time we're together.” He growls next to your ear “Understand baby?”

You nod “Words" he coughs and you mumble “Yes daddy.”

“Good, now don’t forget all the things you did and good luck finishing your errands.” He pats your ass and pushes you lightly.

--

“Good morning sir, how's your sleep last night?” you go back to your daily routine like nothing happened last night.

Taeyong looks sober already and his stomach is rumbling “Good. I had a good sleep, lucky me for I have to catch up a runway this afternoon.”

You nod “Coffee or tea for breakfast?”

He smiles “Coffee, without alcohol okay" he winks and you smile “Alright one coffee coming to you along with your breakfast sir.”

He turns red “calling me sir just makes me turns hot again princess.”

You wink “I'll be right back sir.”

:”Wait!” he holds your hand and you pause in track “Here take this,” he fishes something out of his bag and hands you a nice invitation

“Come to the gala, walk to the backstage pass and meet me for your dress.” He puts on his sunglasses

“I am invited? Well thank you sir, it's such an honor.” You smile widely

He shakes his head and peeks from his shades “Invited? You're my guest of honor. You'll walk the runway!”

You stare at him in disbelief and he quickly taps your arm “Now go princess, prepare me your best breakfast and i'll see you later.”

Oh yeah this will be the greatest experience and oh no tomorrow is gonna be the longest night with Jaehyun.

end, yow any great smut writers if you see this and want to  make the hot scene TAG ME I WANNA READ :D thanks!!

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