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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year

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Say No to Me

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Mostly smut with a garnish of fluff)

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: It hadn’t been a good day at work for Javier Peña— what was new? She knew she could make him bury his frustrations in her, but it was taking a much more convincing than he usually needed. It didn’t matter. She liked a challenge.

A/N: He’s a hot asshole and all but I think he’s husband material with those soft eyes and pretty hair. Warning: bad Spanish.

The dinner went cold on the kitchen counter as she sat at her desk, reading through the stack of essays she had to finish grading by the end of the week. He always told her not to wait up, scolded her for staying up waiting for him in the living room even when she had to wake up early for work.

She continued to not follow his request. She was tired most nights she waited desperately for the lock to turn to let her husband in. But it didn’t feel very wifely to go to bed before feeding her husband. He didn’t expect such things of her; neither of them were traditional that way. He didn’t expect much of her really and she didn’t expect much of him. He didn’t expect her to cook and clean, she didn’t expect him to come home on time. But she still cooked when she could and he hurried home whenever he could. It was why their marriage worked.

A smile curled her lips upward when she heard the door open. “Jav—” she gasped, standing up from her chair and rushing to him. Even in their dimly lit living room, she could see the splotches of red on his shirt.

He took her hands in his before she could take his shirt off to assess his injuries. She knew his job was dangerous, but never imagined she’d see him come home covered in blood.

“It’s not mine,” he insisted, dropping her hands to hold her face with both of his. His brown eyes looked into hers, pleading with her to just believe him. It was an ‘I know I always lie about work, but I’m not lying this time’.

He pulled her close to his chest, whether desiring affection or to distract her from the blood on his shirt, she didn’t know. She knew it was just her imagination, but she could feel the blood on his shirt stain her white top. Like he was transferring his sins on to her, giving her everything he had as he said he would in their marriage vows. She imagined him leaving red on her forehead as he kissed her, red in her hair as she imaged his metaphorically bloodstained hands combing through.

To her surprise, none of it fazed her. She loved him, brown eyes, bloody hands, guilty heart and all. She should be ashamed, really, that these things only made her want him more.

“Need you to say no, mi amor,” he said, grabbing her ass over her silk pajamas. If he actually wanted her to deny him, he was doing a poor job of convincing her to do so. They did not have a traditional marriage, but just this one part could be considered a bit too traditional. They would fit right in with the old expectations for women to put out whenever their husbands desired although none of them did it as part of their rather unusual lifestyle.

He’d given her a ring to wear over her wedding ring for when she wished to give him permission to do whatever he liked with her. It was with the expectation that it would go on and come off. She never took it off, giving him explicit permission to do with her what he wished forever. That didn’t stop her from asking, begging even to say no to him. She very rarely gave in.

“Stop touching me so good then.”

On second thought, they would not fit well with those old expectations. Purely because of how good he fucked her. Why would she ever say no when he always took great care of her? Why reject touches that lit her on fire and reminded her for days to come what she’d let him do to her.

“Just grabbing your ass, baby. Not doing much,” he said, pushing her into their door and holding her there with a strong hand on her lower back.

“It’s doing things for me,” she pressed her cheek into the cold door, her eyes struggling to keep him in her line of vision as he played with her body. He pulled the silk drawers down her legs, the fabric tickling her thighs before pooling around her feet.

“Oh? You missed me that much?” He asked, casually slipping a finger inside her cunt. She whimpered as she felt him force his way in, his finger exploring her as she imagined what he had planned for her, the ways in which he’d make her scream his name.

She nodded and said, “Sí, papi.”

She heard his breath hitch at that one. Good to know he liked that…

“Say no to me, cariño…” he begged, kissing and nibbling at the skin on her neck. He stepped closer to her and reached under her top to find her breasts. Usually, his touches were gentle but now, he grabbed, groped and pinched like a greedy man who wanted to take everything for himself until there was nothing left of her. Yet he was begging to be stopped.

“Whyyyy,” she whined, fucking herself on his finger, desperate to use any part of his body she could get to make herself feel good.

“I had the worst fucking day,” he said, bending down to whisper into her ear. The gruffness of his voice drove her mad, made her want to get on her knees and beg to be used for his selfish pleasures. “You let me have you now and I’ll fuck you up, baby. I’ll fucking ruin you,” he grunted into her ear and wrapped his hand around her throat. She felt the bulge of his cock through his pants as he rubbed himself against her ass like a desperate animal.

“Ruin me then,” she whimpered, making him tighten around her throat.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Please Javi, hurt me… Want you to—” ruin me

She didn’t get to complete her sentence. All of a sudden, the man who was begging her to say no to him twirled her around to face him, his hands meeting at the middle of her top and ripping it apart.

“Javi! You fucking animal! Why did you do that?”

“Quit whining,” he growled, grabbing her face in his hand and forcing her to look up at him, at his fiery eyes. She would be able to cook up a smile if not for the iron grip on her cheeks. “I bought it for you and I’ll do whatever I want with it. Just like these,” he paused to grab her tits with the other hand. “—are mine to do with as I like. ¿Eso se entiende?”

“Sí Papi,” she gasped out with the little air she could have.

“Buena chica,” he smiled, letting go of her throat and caressing her cheek. She panted, letting air back into her body after being deprived of it for a little while. Losing air for just a little while was something she enjoyed, but only if he was the one robbing her of her breaths. There was just something so sexy yet comforting about letting the man she trusted play with her breath like that. Something about putting her life in his hands and asking him to play around with it knowing that he would keep her safe.

“Don’t know what I should have first…” he trailed, his eyes roaming her body. He traced the outline of her lips with his thumb as he continued, “This pretty little mouth that knows to put me in my place when we argue but begs to be hurt when we fuck.”

“Or…” he grabbed her between her legs, laughing when she gasped at the humiliating position she was in. “This pretty little pussy that creams at the prospect of pain.”

“Whatever you want, Sir… Please, just use me. Please…” She’d rather him fuck her pussy. It had been too long since they’d been energetic enough to fuck at the end of the day. It had been too long since he made her writhe and cry in his arms as she came down from an orgasm. But she wanted him to have a choice after the rotten day he’d had, didn’t want to deny him anything. If what he wanted was to hold her head in place and fuck her face, she’d let him. It was easy making that choice knowing he’d always repay her with his head between her legs.

“Fuck, baby! Who would’ve thought, huh? Can’t believe I once thought you were just a sweet little thing, a nice respectable professor. Didn’t think I was fucking a shameless fucking whore.”

She attempted a laugh, but all she could do was let out a breath. “Wish I could say the same about you, but you have shameless fucking whore written on your forehead.”

He let out a dry laugh and tucked her hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes as he leaned in, hoping that he would kiss her. Instead, she felt the tip of his nose in between her eyebrows. She heard him breathe her in and moan as though just her scent turned him on. He traced the tip of his nose down her nose, stopping at the tip and nudging playfully.

Bloodstains forgotten, she placed her hands on him, letting herself feel his broad shoulders, strong arms and the little belly she was growing fond of despite his constant complaining about getting old. “Gonna quit this job right-fucking-now, Cariño. Gonna take you back home and fuck you all day and all night. I’ll never leave this cunt, I swear.”

“Oh? And then what?” She asked, curious about what kind of future he fantasized about for them even if it was an unrealistic product of his hard dick.

“Finally knock you up,” he said, his eyes glinting as he pushed his fingers in and out of her cunt. “Todo el mundo debería saber que eres mi esposa. Our families want us to have a wedding, but I think this will be more effective.”

“I don’t know, Papi…” she teased, playing with the buttons of his shirt. It had been a longtime wish of theirs, to settle down and have kids. But his job didn’t have seem to have an end and their plans remained something to fantasise about when they fucked or sat cuddled up on rare Sunday mornings. “I don’t want to lose my figure. Don’t want you to lose interest in me and go back to being a manwhore.”

“It’s alright, Cariño. You’ve had this figure for a while, it might be time for a change. I might just end up loving you swelling up with my baby so much that I decide to keep you pregnant.”

“That’s financially very very—” she gasped silently as he hit a sensitive spot inside her. “It’s ir- irresponsible.”

“That’s okay, we’ll handle it. I’ll keep this fucking job, climb the ladder and make us some money. As long as I get to keep you fucked out and filled with my cum. Breed you, mark you the way men have been marking their women before rings and marriage licenses. Think about that, querida…”

She clenched around him, letting him know immediately that she was imagining this scenario and liked what she saw in her head. She imagined being only his, no responsibilities in life except to please him. Oh to be nothing but his plaything, to be used for him to get off, held down and bred over and over and—

“You thinking about that, hmm?”

She nodded, grabbing the arm that was between her legs and encouraged him to go faster.

“You can’t say much anymore, can you, slut?” He taunted, pushing her hand away from his before continuing his torture. “Fuckin’ love that mouth of yours, Querida. That sharp tongue, too. I think that’s why I dragged you to the embassy and made you my wife.”

She moaned, attempting to cry his name but failing. Whatever sound she made sounded nothing like his name, sounded nothing like a human woman. She loved his mouth too, even though her obsession was with his eyes and his nose. She loved that mouth that could make her cunt cream and her heart melt at the same time.

“But I keep you 'cause I love to shut you up. Love to stick my cock in your mouth, love to fuck you stupid with just my fingers like I’m fucking you now. Only I can fuck you stupid, my smart girl. Only me. All mine, aren’t you?” He asked, taking her lips between his before she could scream that she was indeed all his. He tasted of cigarettes and whiskey, something she couldn’t stand when she was his girlfriend but craved as his wife. It was a taste she’d gotten used to, grown to love. Perhaps because it was so masculine or because she’d identified the taste as something that belonged to her, just like the man himself.

She tightened around him and he noticed, smirking at how he could play her like an instrument. She clung to his shoulders for support as he prepared to yank her world from beneath her feet. When everything was unstable, when she couldn’t trust her own two feet, he was there, holding her up and making her feel so fucking good.

“Javi…” she cried, the kinky names she had for him disappearing as all she could remember in the thrall of her pleasure was his name.

“Sí, mi amor. Estoy aquí. Mi amor, mi corazón, mi vida, mi esposa. Estoy—” he continued whispering his sweet, sweet words. As wonderful as they were to hear, she drifted away from his voice, drifted away from him. The world had turned into nothing and she was suddenly shot up into the sky, but also floating down to the earth like a feather.

His arms wrapped around her and she felt herself be carried before her back hit the soft bed.

“Was that it?” She asked, panting.

“Do you want that to be it? You tired, Querida?”

“No way,” she said, still breathless. “You promised to ruin me. I’m not letting you get off until you keep your promise. I’ll keep you up all night…all fucking night if I have to.”

He hovered over her, his gaze piercing her as he watched her tits rise and fall in her attempt to catch her breath.

“I picked a wanton whore to marry, huh?” He teased, but she was in no mood to listen to his words. She’d let him talk later as much as he wanted but not now.

“Get to work, Peña,” she said, grabbing him by his hair and leading him between her legs.

“Oh, so I’m just Peña now?” He managed to quip before being shoved closer to her cunt. “Yes Ma’am,” he grunted before licking a stripe up her dripping pussy. He pushed her thighs further apart, putting her on display for his eyes. She looked away for a second before turning her focus right back to him, shy about being exposed to him but unable to keep her gaze away from his beauty for too long.

“Taste so good, Cariño,” he said, coming up for a breath. “I could live off of eating you, three meals a day for the rest of my life.”

“Would be a short life then, seeing that there’s no nutritional value to pussy,” she quipped, earning a slap to her pussy. Her legs closed by instinct, but he spread her open again. Before the sting of his slap could fade, he slapped her again.

“Disobedient little cunt,” he spat, slapping her again. She kicked her legs around, but there wasn’t much she could do to escape his grasp as he held her in place with those strong hands of his. She felt like she could be one of the people he chased. He would be so elentless, catch and pin her down, hold her in place with his strong arms and fuck! She whined at the next slap.

He brought his hand down again and her eyes squeezed shut in preparation for the impact. It never came. Instead she felt his thumb circling her clit. She looked down at him and pushed his hair behind to find his eyes. He smiled arrogantly from between her legs, his eyes mischievous and determined to cause her a lot of pain. He provided her a few seconds of mercy as his thumb left her. She noticed her slick on his mustache, whimpering at how much more handsome he looked with her all over his face. He slapped her again and she kicked her legs, almost getting him in the process.

“Please, please Papi! I can’t—” she shrieked as he landed another one.

“You either take what I give you or we stop everything. Do you want to stop everything?” He asked and she shook her head in disagreement immediately. She didn’t want him to stop no matter how hard it got, no matter how torturous his touches became. She wanted the ruination in his arms that he promised. She wanted to be crying, to be numb when he was done using her.

He alternated between touching her clit oh so gently and slapping her when she least expected it, the pleasure and pain merging into one until she craved the pain as much as she did the pleasure. At some point, her legs stopped fighting back, resigned to her torture. Her eyes glazed over and her Javi was but a blurry image. When she came again, she may have said his name. Or not. She wasn’t sure. Her thighs shook under the pleasure and she felt him pull her into his comforting embrace where she relaxed with her eyes closed.

“—can stop if you want to. Don’t worry about me, mi amor.”

“Still not ruined. Ruin me,” she replied, dazed. She wanted to know how far he could go. She needed to feel the full extent of his power over her, to know where the limits of his power were. For her sake, she hoped there were no limits. She hoped to find out she was all his even when he fucked her thoughts out of her head and she was nothing but a pretty body.

“You missed me that much, Cariño? I made you come only twice and you’re already so fucked out?” He peppered little kisses along her jaw before moving to her neck.

“Missed you so much, Javi,” she managed to say when she once again felt stable, as stable as she could be as his puppet.

He had been away too long for her liking, leaving his side of the bed cold and empty. They were by no means the kind of couple that clung to each other, but god she missed him. She missed him between her legs, on her lap as she read to him, at the dinner table appreciating her cooking, in their kitchen washing the dishes… She missed him so much.

“I missed you, too,” he said softly, laying her back down on the bed. She refused to part with him, holding on to his hand and interlacing their fingers to keep him from getting too far away from her. Understanding her need to be close to him, he gave up on separating from her and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Ready for another round?” He asked, throwing her legs over his shoulders before diving in.

Two orgasms turned to three and three to four and so on. She’d lost count at some point, but he hadn’t lost his enthusiasm. Her body was on fire and he was the only one with the water to put it out. He had to be a cruel man for he did the exact opposite, lighting her on fire over and over and promising to put her out if she’d come for him “just one more time, Cariño”.

She felt a tear trickle down the side of her face, but his hands and mouth continued relentlessly, consuming every bit of her, body and soul. In her state of intoxication, she thought his hands were in too many places at the same time. She laid helplessly, unable to do anything but take what he gave as he forced her to surrender to him over and over and over and—

“Qúe Bonita,” he cooed, wiping the tears off her face as she sobbed. She didn’t even have enough in her to tell him to stop, to have mercy, to free her from his painful pleasures. But even if she could, she didn’t know if she would.

“Want your hole just one more time. Just once, okay? Open up,” he said, tapping her cheek with the back of his hand. She opened her mouth, grateful that he’d spared her pussy at last. She whined as he touched her again, too sensitive even for his now gentle hand. He collected the slick between her legs and smeared her all over his cock.

“Taste yourself on me, Querida. Taste what I can do to you,” he said before pushing the tip in. He placed his hand on her hair, petting her like she was a wild animal he’d tamed. He was getting her wetness all over her hair, but she couldn’t tell if it was something to be annoyed about. She couldn’t tell anything except the blissful pain in her cunt and his cock stretching her out.

He was so tender in feeding her his cock, so attuned to her responses. She didn’t even have to tell him to back away when it got too much for her. He read her so well that he knew just when to give her a breath. He knew her body better than she did, knew how to make it sing and how to make it beg, how to get it to surrender to his control.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth. Fuck! Feel so good, baby,” he praised, the hand in her hair pushing and pulling her around his cock. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from the recent lack of practice, but she was sure he’d get her back to her prime over the week. The man had an obsession with shutting her up.

“Gonna fuck that smart brain outta that head,” he said, his quickening breaths combining with her moans and the lewd wet sounds of her mouth getting used. “Look at yourself,” he commanded, directing her to look at the mirror attached to their closet door. She caught herself, limp and useless but for her mouth. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were red. Her cheeks glistened under the light from the tears she’d shed. Her hair was all tangled up from his manhandling and her thighs had several marks the shape of his teeth. “Think your students will recognize you like this, Professor Peña? You think they know what a slut their whip smart professor is at home?”

“You think they wonder why you wear three rings? Bet none of them know that the third is just a license for me to use you up.”

She moaned around his cock as he pushed in and out of her throat, making him cry her name at the sensation. She wanted to grab a camera and take a picture of this moment to remember how thoroughly he used her.

“What a perfect fucking mouth!” He exclaimed, wrapping his other hand around her throat to feel how he stretched her out. “‘S like you were measured to fit around me, made to be my perfect little cocksucking whore.”

She clenched her throat tighter around his cock, letting her teeth graze him ever so slightly in the way that drove him nuts. Confident in how he held her up, she moved her hand from the bed and touched his balls, careful to not hurt him with her recently done nails. He twitched in her mouth and hissed at the sensation, making her smile victorious around his cock. He might think he had all the control with the way he was fucking her mouth, but it was always good to remind him that she could wipe his thoughts off his mind with just one touch.

“Gonna be fast now. Can you handle that, baby?”

She nodded, giving him all the permission he needed to forget he was fucking his wife. His thrusts were harder than they usually were, burning her throat. Her scalp stung with how mercilessly he pulled her hair. His other hand found her tits and dug in, leaving his marks on her flesh and making her cry in pain. Her jaw was sore and she knew her throat would be sore when she woke up the next morning.

She was fully out of control, having handed him the reins to her body and mind. She’d never done that with any other man before, just him. It was so easy to trust him, so easy to be content in being used as his toy knowing that he would still keep her safe. He would still respect her as his partner no matter the names he called her to get them off and the bruises he left behind on her body.

He went from coherent screams of her name to strained moans and groans. His grip on her hair slackened but he still kept going, pushing in and out of her mouth. She helped him along with her gentle touches of his balls and her sharp nails digging into the ample flesh of his ass. In no time, he was coating the insides of her throat with his cum. He pulled out too quickly, his cum now spurting out on her tear-stained face. She wished she hadn’t taken her makeup off, she would’ve made an even messier image for him with smudged lipstick and mascara running down her cheeks.

He didn’t seem to mind, looking more than just content with the sight before him. He laid her out on the bed and collapsed on top of her, placing quick kisses on her lips and her cheeks and her forehead. “Mi hermosa,” he whispered, traveling down to her shoulders and placing a kiss on her between each term of endearment. “Mi esposa, mi cielo, mi vida…Where would I be without you?”

“Doctor’s office, probably,” she chuckled. “Getting treated for STIs from sleeping around.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek, unbothered about the mess he made on her face. “Love this fucking mouth,” he smiled, giving her a quick peck.

A smug smile crept upon her lips as she said, “And you love fucking this mouth.”

“That I do, baby. Missed your mouth so much.” He bent down to kiss her lips as though proving just how much he missed it.

“Just my mouth?” She asked innocently, looking at him like a kicked puppy.

“You know it’s not just your mouth. Quit fishing for compliments.”

She slapped his chest playfully and tugged on his ear, making him shriek dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to be fishing, Javier. You should be complimenting me all the time.”

“You’re right, mi amor,” he said, taking the hand that slapped him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each finger and then her palm. He stopped at her ring finger with the three rings— a thick gold band with his name engraved on it, a thin one with a modest diamond, and nestled between them, a thinner silver that she wore to signal that he could use her as he liked. He paid the finger special attention, placing little kisses down to the tip.

He held her hand in the most gentlemanly way as he admired her newly manicured nails. “So lovely…”

“Mhmm? You like the color?” She asked, knowing very well that he did. The few times he got to accompany her to nail appointments, he always chose this shade of sparkly purple.

“You know I do. Did you remember to take money out of my drawer before the appointment?”

The man had something of an obsession with her nails, asking to see them and paint them for her. He took her to the nail salon when he could and insisted on paying. When he couldn’t accompany her, he made sure to slip some cash into her purse to pay for it.

“No, I’m sorry honey. It was a spontaneous thing with Carla.”

He tsked and dropped her hand like a petulant child who didn’t get what he wanted. She laughed and caressed his cheek with her thumb. “Are you really mad at me for this, Javi?”

“You know the rules. I pay for these nails.”

“I’m not going to argue about silly things now. I’m hungry. Go reheat the dinner and fix us a plate,” she said, shoving at his chest.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

She shook her head and said, “I was waiting for you to come home. It’s been a while since we ate together.”

His eyes softened and he swallowed audibly. “I’ve been making you wait a lot, haven’t I?”

They had no expectations of each other, but he placed a lot on himself. He made promises she didn’t ask for and broke his own heart when he couldn’t keep them immediately. She wished he could be as patient with himself as she was with him. Tried as she might, she couldn’t do much to ease his worries. There was only so much a good fuck could do.

“Out of all the things you’re worrying about, our marriage shouldn’t be one. Okay?”

He looked away and nodded, but his eyes told a different story. She gently pushed his chest, getting her off of her so that she could sit up. She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. God, he looked so sweet, so vulnerable…

“I understand that things are terrible at work. I can see you’re worried about every goddamn thing. Work isn’t going great for me either. Our department isn’t being funded and my ass is being grilled for every— it doesn’t matter. Our home is all we have. I don’t want you to put a time on dinner and feel guilty about me waiting for you to come home. I don’t want you stressing over me not letting you pay for my nails. It’s a sweet thing you do for me, but it’s not like our marriage will be over without it.”

“Isn’t our marriage made of several small things? We do things for each other… I pay for your nails and you buy my shirts. You cook, I clean. You forgo a proper wedding and I…” he paused to sigh. “We got married at the fucking embassy and I got pulled for a raid and sent you home alone... We still can’t have kids because I’m so tied to work. We haven’t even eaten together in weeks. I’m not doing my part and I’m afraid that one day I’ll come home and you won’t be here.”

He wasn’t one to speak at length about what he felt. She could tell his feelings, see the burdens he carried just by looking into his eyes. But she didn’t know the specifics. She didn’t know he regretted not having a regular wedding. She didn’t know he was scared she would leave.

“I’m not going anywhere. And I never wanted a wedding for the sake of a wedding. You asked to be my husband and now you are. That is what you promised and that is what I wanted. I don’t care how we got there.”

“I left a woman at the altar.” He said, seemingly out of nowhere. His shoulders dropped as soon as he said it as though he’d been holding that information in for years.

“I know.”

“I never told you.”

“Laredo is a small town and your neighbors felt gossipy when I visited. I still don’t see what that has to do with this.” Once upon a time, that bit of information scared her. His ring still on her finger, she was afraid he’d stand her up too. But the woman he was supposed to marry, Lorraine, was quick to explain it away to her. If his ex was willing to clear him, she saw no point in being worried.

“I failed a marriage even before there was a marriage and now I’m failing you.”

Oh, you precious fool.

“You were young and stupid. That has nothing to do with us.”

“Now I’m older and still stupid.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. If you insist on believing that you’re failing in our marriage just because of some silly little things, there isn’t much I can do to make you see reality. I’m happy with you. I just waited a couple hours to eat with you. I didn’t fucking starve in that short time. We do these things in a marriage, Javi. You can’t take each little thing as a personal failing. You came to the campus to pick me up one evening and I was stuck in a meeting for more than an hour. Imagine if I thought I was a shit wife for that. I need you to let things go and enjoy yourself at least at home. Because all you’re doing right now is being miserable and ruining my great night with your sad little face.”

“Thank you…” he said softly, kissing her hand once again. “And my face is not little,” he mumbled.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed, picking up her book from the side table and hitting him with it. “Go get me dinner. Pendejo.”

“So disobedient,” he teased.

“Cabrón.”

“Wow.”

“Viejo. Now go get me dinner.”

“Viejo? You’re older, Viejita.”

“By just a few months!” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Realizing he was very much enjoying seeing her push her tits out, he dropped her arms and pulled their blanket up to block his view. “And I still look younger. You look so old people are going to ask if you’re my uncle.”

“Are they now?”

“Yeah. It’s all those worry lines. Idiota.”

“Rude.”

Before she could call him another name, he got up from the bed and walked away. She sat back comfortably and whistled as she got a good view of his bare ass and his broad back. She caught him laughing softly as he walked to their kitchen, his eyes still on her as he heated their dinner. His insecurities weren’t going to go away anytime soon. Her body would only become less prepared for motherhood as time passed. But, she had him and he had her and that was all the safety they needed to go on to the next day.

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cdbabymp3 · 2 months

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Having thoughts about hamzahs hands and arms likeeeee… sexy. Just him always touching you and u love when he puts his arms around you.

𐙚hands & arms ― hamzahthefantastic

notes/warnings: sfw & nsfw hc's !! i did indicate where the nsfw portion starts though so if you just wanna read the sfw you can ! slight mention of weed lol (i kinda went overboard w this ... 🤒)

[unedited]

sfw

-boy's got the prettiest hands evaaa 🌟

-he's extremely touch deprived so he's gotta be holding your hand at all times

-in the winter when it's absolutely freezing, he'll take your hands in his and blow hot air, rubbing them to create friction 😭 he's so corny i love him

-if you guys are high, he'll compare the size of your hands with his for the millionth time and act surprised (his are muchhh larger)

"whaaaattt oh my goddd y/n you're like a little alien !!"

-he likes to cradle your face when you kiss, generally just needs to hold you in any given situation

-you could be reaching for something above you in the kitchen and he feels the need to keep a hand on the small of your back like he's spotting you at the gym BYEEE

-when he first met your parents for dinner, he had a hand on your thigh the whole night. if there was a brief pause in the conversation or he didn't know the answer to a question your dad asked, he'd squeeze your thigh for help

-likes when you kiss his knuckles and fingertips, it never fails to bring a smile to his face and he always returns the favor

-this is probably super niche but i feel like he's good with his hands ??? not even sexually (well-yes but we'll get to that in a sec...) but just able to open difficult things that are too tedious for you

-he has a very steady hand is what i'm trying to say... so if the clasps of your bra are being difficult or there's a random knot in your earbuds he's your guy ! 😁

-again, maybe too niche, but he's a fast typer as well

-if you have a huge essay due and you're exhausted, just tell him what you want to say and he'll put his slutty little glasses on and type if out for you so fucking quick bc that's bf !! 💘

-now his arms ...

-he thinks he's not that strong but oh he definitely is

-can open anything for you, even those annoying ass sauce jars that are literally airtight

-THIS BOY'S A TEASE THOUGH so yes you will have to SHOW HIM that you tried to open it and then he'll be like "ok fine lemme do it 😒"

-okay he hates the whole hyper-masculine mentality of a girl making a man feel manly butttt there is one exception: when you guys are walking together and you hold onto his bicep ... goes fucking crazy for that

-he likes to pick you up all the time !! during fights, when he gets home from filming, when you tell him good news, etc. etc.

-you could be in the middle of a stupid argument where both of y'all are just being petty for nothing and you know it, so he'll pick you up while you're cussing him out and put you over his shoulder

-you protest at first, demanding he put you down, but then he'll spin you a bit to make you laugh and get over whatever y'all were fighting about

-piggyback rides and carrying you bridal style are a must

-yes, he let's you do the tiktok trend where you tie a ribbon around his bicep. no, he does not let you post it.

nsfw

-driving hamzah driving hamzah DRIVING HAMZAH !!! one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your inner thigh with the most innocent expression on his face as his fingers creep towards where you need him

-likes when you suck on his fingers mhm mhm he will NOT break eye contact when you do it

-WILL interlock fingers with yours when he eats you out, he needs the intimacy

-very skilled with his hands as i mentioned earlier ...

-he may be an inexperienced bachelor but this boy knows where the clit is and how to circle it just right

-since it took a while for you guys to actually fuck in your relationship (bc he wanted to take things slow) fingering was his go-to and jesus christ is he good at it 🪦

-his fingers are fairly long and thicker than yours so he's curling them and reaching all the right spots

-his hands are calloused from lifting and it's hot !! this is smth i won't negotiate

-when he's caressing your thighs and ass you can feel how rough they are in certain areas and it only adds to the stimulation

-he will lightly hold your neck when you guys makeout, not quite enough to choke you though, he's so cute

-ARMS ARMS ARMS ARMS MY WEAKNESS 🐺

-can definitely toss you around if you get what i mean ...

-it's always jokingly though, he'd never want to actually hurt you so he doesn't use his full strength

-if you've been at a party together and are dying to get home to be alone he will speed back to his place, slam the door behind you, pick you up to walk over and throw you onto his bed, laughing at how horny both of you are

-can literally lift your weight with one hand, so if you guys are kissing on the couch and want to switch to his bed, it's light work for him

-hates himself for it but he does have a hint of a size/strength kink that i don't think he'd ever openly admit lmao

-looooovesss when you grab for his biceps during the initial thrust into you ... DONT GET ME STARTED

-hugs you from behind 😵‍💫 he knows how much it turns you on

-like you're super focused on something and he'll walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your body, swaying you side to side to distract you

"hamzah..." you warn

"what???" he always plays dumb

^this almost always ends in making out and/or hooking up

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts

(lmk if u wanna be added, luvs!!)

#cdbabymp3 #hamzahthefantastic headcannons #hamzahthefantastic imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #slushy noobz

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peachypwark · 11 months

Text

Caught

Synopsis: Jake gets caught in an awkward situation but maybe it’s not the worst thing being caught

Warnings: sub!Jake, dom!reader, masturbation, best friends to lovers, unprotected sex, blow job, cum eating, riding, mention of a threat made toward Jake reader doesn’t have a gag reflex, use of the nickname baby (lemme know if there��s anything I missed)

Word count: 1,280 (yet I can never meet the word count on my essays😭)

AN: this is my first smut that I’m actually publishing and it may or may not be inspired by the photo above and it may or may not be a little self indulgent

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had a crush on your best friend Jake ever since he hit puberty and boy did it do him good. Of course you loved him before he became physically appealing, but you had always pushed the thought down and pretended the crush simply didn’t exist. As time went on you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore and just admitted that you were in love with the man. Now you were hot too, when you hit puberty, Jake took notice to how you became a woman. Noticed how you grew into all your features in the best way possible and it became very hard not to develop a crush on you and fantasize what it would be like to be with you, it became sexual for him last year when you started wearing clothes that hugged your figure in such a delicious way. Hence why he’s currently fucking his fist at the mere thought of those black velvet bell bottoms that you wore to work when he saw you earlier this morning and how they accentuate your hips. He’s been edging himself for an hour, so lost in the pleasure that he didn’t even hear the front door open and didn’t hear your sweet voice calling his name. You had gotten off early and dropped by your favorite boys house. When you opened the front door, you didn’t see him anywhere downstairs but then you heard a slight whimper, followed by your name. Worried about your friend you went upstairs only assuming he was asleep and was having a bad dream, which you would definitely tease him about later, but when you opened the door you were met with the image of your best friend sprawled on his bed, pumping his cock and panting your name. You couldn’t help but be a little turned on at the image in front of you, wanting to take over and torture him a little. Your eyes lit up at the idea that popped into your head

“Jake~” you said in a sing song voice watching the boy jump and cover himself at lightning speed

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked his heart beating out of his chest but all you could think about was how fucked out he looked

“Do you do this often?” You said looking straight in his eyes

“Wha-“ he said before you cut him off

“Do you always think about me when you touch yourself, hmm?” You questioned but only greeted with a look of guilt on his face

“Answer me, Jake” you asserted “use your words”

“Yes” he answered looking fairly embarrassed before you crawled towards him and straddled his lap

“Me too” you whispered in his ear looking back at his face to see a look of pure shock. Jake looking in your eyes to find them dripping in lust and finally you closed the gap between you and captured his lips in a kiss of pure need and hunger. Tongues fighting for dominance, which ended in you winning that battle, breaking the kiss with only a string of saliva connecting you. Taking in his swollen pink lips before moving down to his neck, biting and sucking until he let out a whimper letting you know you found his spot continuing to suck at that spot until it became bruised. You then got off his lap to pull the covers off of him, his dick slapping against his stomach still very hard from playing with himself for an hour and still not cumming. His tip was red and angry, precum oozing out and dripping along his length. You wrapped your hands around his throbbing member and are immediately met with a groan from Jake before laying on your stomach between his thighs to suck his dick. You kissed his tan thighs causing him to squirm before you got to where he really needed you. You licked a stripe up the underside of his cock before giving some kitten licks to his tip

“Please, no teasing” he cried

“Ok” you said before taking his whole length in your mouth bobbing your head up and down while the boy in front of you becomes a complete moaning mess, scratching at your back under your work shirt to try to stabilize himself from the earth shattering head he is receiving right now.

“Shit, I’m cumming” he moaned out which only made you go harder, you even started fondling his balls and just like that he was shooting thick ropes of cum into your mouth, rolling his hips into your mouth to ride out his high before you released him out of your mouth with a pop, noticing he was still hard.

“Babe look you’re still hard as a rock” you said getting up and taking your clothes off and kissing his lips while you got back on his lap. He could still taste himself in your mouth and his mind was so foggy he didn’t even realize you lined him up with your entrance. Slowly sinking onto his member making him break the kiss and throw his head back with a groan.

“Mm you fill me up so good” you praised him while bouncing on his lap his finger nails digging into your hip as he progressively gets more vocal, his sounds mixing with your own

“Y/N, I can’t hold it much longer” he sobbed out, tears forming in his eyes with how good he felt.

“Just a little bit longer, ok baby?” You panted out soon feeling that familiar knot in your stomach

“Cum with me, Jake” you said and as soon as you finished that sentence you could feel him twitch inside of you and painting your walls white, triggering your own orgasm rolling your hips to ride both of your highs out. Your forehead resting against his, both of you bursting into a fit of giggles.

“I guess we can skip the awkward love confession now” you said to him

“Wait what?” He exclaimed “you actually like me”

“Well, yeah ever since you had little gap teeth” you said watching his eyes light up and smile the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, immediately kissing your lips, this kiss more gentle than the ones you just shared.

“I’ll be right back, I just gotta clean myself up” you said almost forgetting he was still inside you. You got up and scurried to the bathroom after you found your underwear and grabbed one of jakes shirts and got yourself cleaned up. When you got out of the bathroom you saw Jake in sweatpants, immediately jumping into bed with him, he let out a slight giggle at your eagerness to cuddle with him after the way you fucked him. You laid right next to each other, his face in the crook of your neck and you playing with his hair.

“Jake” you said making him take his face out of your neck

“Yeah?” He questioned

“When did you start liking me?” You asked him curiously, considering you had no idea he reciprocated your feelings

“When you threw a book at that boy for threatening to shoot me in 8th grade” he said with no hesitation “I don’t know something about the way you handled that had me down bad” he said smiling at you

“So what I’m hearing is, you like that I’m mean?” You said smiling at him as well

“Love it actually” he said causing you to roll your eyes

“Go to sleep loser” you said

“Yes, ma’am” he said taking his place back in the crook of your neck and soon you were both asleep, feeling giddy about how this all transpired cause he got caught.

#jake sim #enhypen #jake sim smut #jake sim smuts #enhypen smut

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lavandaea · 5 months

Text

*inhales deeply*

There's spoilers ahead so, yeah, be careful.

This weekend episodes have actually broken my soul.

He didn't even need his feelings to be reciprocate, HE JUST WANTED TO BE WITH HER.

Dear writers, some things to ask, why so much screen time to second male lead? Why create such chemistry? Such backstory? (Spoiler alert: that will make us sympathize with the supposed villain) To just fuck*ing rip his heart out and pulverize it like Grandma with the cow bones, yes, just like that.

Let me get this straight, after having been raised in an environment of violence, pain and God knows what else for God knows how long, he falls in love. He experiences ✨feelings✨ ,he puts all his trust in her like never before, he shares his past and then he gets betrayed.

I swear I never seen someone cry so with so much meaning, feeling, with so much back there.

We made progress for the last (at least) five episodes TO JUST END IT IN A SINGLE ONE.

This could have been handled a lot better in a lot of ways and about a lot of topics that I could actually write an essay.

Let's begin the the main leads.

So, in order to have some sort of feeling about ML and FL loving eachother you need to put screen time ON them. Yeah, they support eachother, they have known far before Si Oh, they are funny and a lot of things more. They even kissed and very passionately, wow. Just one thing, Why didn't I even blink during that scene but found myself hitting the pillow and blushing when Si Oh did such mundane things as taking her home, opening doors for her, fixing her purse, hair, looking at her with those "I love you" eyes,👏feeling👏guilty👏about👏making👏her👏uncomfortable👏 with👏his👏feelings👏for👏her HELLO??, WAVING HER BACK WHILE HE WATCHED HER GO, SMILE EVERY DAMN TIME HE SAW HER?

I´ll tell you why. Because I know, thanks to you, that Si Oh was experiencing for the very first time what it's like to have human interaction that doesn't involve violence or having to be wary of everything and everyone all the time. He wanted to connect, to share his whole self, to be happy, to make her happy, to love and be loved. Moreover, I can't help just to feel happy for him, sad, angry, fucking rageous (not more than him, obviously).

Meanwhile, I barely know Hee Sik aka the male lead.

I remember seeing his mother once and I think that's what I understood about his private life. Sorry, I forgot about his deceased brother, that could have been a good topic to develop if it wasn't just mentioned once somewhere in the sixth chapter and left there to rot. Other than that, I know he is a cop, loves his cops friends and loves Nam Soon, also he is really loyal and good person.

Nice👍, very nice. But what else?? Or does the man just exist for his job and girlfriend? Even Shi Oh had some time to box being a drug dealer and full time whipped for her.

I'm just saying that you want me to suddenly dislike someone you took a considerable amount of time explaining but I have to like this good guy because you just pointed at him 👉🧍, and said, "here's the good guy, love him".

Sorry, I cant do that.

If you haven't noticed, you just made a character I fell obliged to sympathize.

If you wanted to make him evil and hot you should have just made him evil and hot.

It worked just as well with Jang Han Seok from Vincenzo.

Not have him have "REDEMPTION" written all over his face just to go with "Actually, no. He has no chance. 😃". It's, for lack of a better term, frustrating. (Absurd)

Instead, maybe you should have dedicated that screen time for the construction of the main leads relationship.

Oh, yes. Another thing since we are talking about the matter.

ML and FL relationship progress got weaker and weaker since she had started to spy on Si Oh. And then one episode was like "Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you, they are actually dating by now" Bom, a kiss. If I need a kiss to know they are in love, there's something going on back there. Something lacking.

Scenes of them in love: well acted, nice, cute, cool, okay. But it is like picking a random romance book and start reading it ten chapters ahead, they are in love, but how this did happen??? Last time I saw them, they were in a friends-and-some-more zone.

Where's the progress?

I know where is it. In the fake relationship, that it was being used just to turn Si Oh into a complete monster with probably not chance of going back.

"You have suffered a lot, yeah, I see. Anyway here's more pain. Suffer more and go cause some trouble because if not, there's, apparently, no plot"

Nice job.

I have been saying this and I will say it again, kdrama writers/directors are not ready for traumatized villains. They are afraid of them.

#strong girl nam soon #ryu shi oh #byun woo seok #gang nam soon #nam soon #kdrama #lee yoo mi #even hong seol and jeong had more chemistry and thats saying a lot

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orangflowalober · 3 months

Text

Enha reaction to their only competition being your young, hot professor

Pairing: Enhypen x Reader

Genre: crack, established relationship

Summary: the boys having the realization that the professor you said not to worry about is actually something to worry about

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of food (coffee), cigarettes, killing idk let me know if I missed something

A/n: based on personal experience! also I used those videos from the fan signs as reference for how jealous the boys would be! so pls cut me some slack I did my best not to make them too out of character!

Heesung

Heesung was slowly approaching you, watching you with gentle eyes as you stood in front of your collage with your friends.

But then.

He heard something oddly specific.

“So how are we feeling after today y/n?” the friend he didn’t recognise asked, lifting a cigarette to her lips as the rest of them giggled.

Heesung stopped at a fair distance and listened to the conversation.

Then his eyes widened as your hands flew to your hair and you started tugging and playing with it.

You only did that when he did something that made you feel flustered… So what was it that warranted it this time?

“Why, I had a blast!” you laughed.

“Of course you did,” the one he recognised as Nami retorted with a smile.

“Especially when he was checking over your work right?” a third one laughed quietly.

He realised they were all throwing playful jabs at you, and you were reciprocating the attitude.

However, Heesung felt terribly out of loop.

“Here he comes,” Mia knocked her elbow against your ribs.

Heesungs eyes flew to the door of the college as he watched a man leave.

“Goodbye” the five of you chorused and the new person gave them an oddly bright tight lipped smile.

As soon as you deemed him out of earshot, you giggled so girlishly that Heesung’s heart-strings tugged and unable to contained himself he yelled, feeling outraged;

“Y/n?!”

You turned to face your boyfriend with a sheepish look on your face, while your friends only burst out into laughter.

“He he” you laughed awkwardly, “hii babe…”

Park Jay Jongseong

Jay had finally got his hands on you after a long and exhausting exam week and talking you out had been something he’d been looking forward to for far too long.

You were chatting his ear off about something and he was taking the time to commit the sight to memory, having been deprived of his wonderful girlfriend for two weeks now.

And then.

Someone ruined his fun.

He didn’t know who the man was. He only knew that you suddenly straightened and walked towards him and immediately started a conversation.

Now Jay wasn’t a jealous person by any means, but there was something in the way you were gazing at the man while he was speaking and the way he was looking at you while raving about something.

Then you finally parted with a bright smile and a nod of your head.

You squealed before you could stop yourself and Jay was immediately on guard.

“Who was that?” he tried to keep the bitterness from his voice but he knew he failed the moment you looked up at him.

“Oh!” you gasped, “I think I’ve told you about him-”

He was just about ready to commit murder before your next words left your mouth.

“That’s my Creative Writing professor.” you told him with a brilliant smile. “You know? The one I went to visit last week for help with my essays?”

Well now he just felt stupid.

“Oh” he said with a blank look in his eye. “I guess I should have taken your word for it when you said he’s young.” and after a few seconds of deliberation he added quietly; “And attractive.”

Sim Jake Jaeyun

Jake took great pride in being your boyfriend.

I mean.

You look into the mirror every morning don’t you?

You know what he means.

And knowing how positively beautiful you were, you honestly shouldn’t be surprised at how jealous he was.

He was happily skipping on the way to pick you up after your classes, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.

You were standing there, looking cute as shit, with a man that wasn’t him next to you, locked into a serious conversation.

He froze seeing you looking so shy, with that adorable nod you did when you were too flustered to speak and he almost strangled the man next to you for the bright smile he gave you when he briefly heard the man say alright? And you responded with a dutiful, yet lovely, yes.

Before he could do anything about the situation, however, the man walked away without looking back and Jake hurried to you.

Your cheeks flushed red at the sight of your boyfriend.

“Jake!” you exclaimed, happy to see him, “Did you wait long?” you asked him, but before he had the opportunity to respond, you just kept talking.

“I hope you didn’t” you grinned sheepishly, “I just had to ask my professor something about the exam we’re having soon.”

Well, now Jake just felt silly.

Park Sunghoon

You knew better than to talk to Sunghoon about anyone you found remotely attractive.

Boy or girl.

Boy was just too damn jealous and possessive.

So just what made you think that being seen by your incredibly possessive boyfriend with your young and rather attractive professor was a good idea?

The answer is nothing.

Because you didn’t expect this would happen.

You were sitting with your boyfriend at a cafe when he had to leave for a few minutes to go to the bathroom and that was exactly when your professor showed up.

Sunghoon had so much fun on your dates and he knew you did too.

So when he was coming out of the bathroom to the sight of you standing next to your chair with a different man, bro was seeing red for a hot second before making his way towards you.

He stuttered in his walk when he realised you were speaking to the man in rapid English.

Well now he had no way of knowing what you were talking about.

Just when he came next to you, the man turned around and left, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Jagiya…” Sunghoon began, an arm wrapping around your waist as you two sat down, “Who was that?” he asked somewhat calmly, a particular edge to his voice.

Your eyes shone with entertainment, realising why he was like this and he groaned.

“That,” you wildly grinned, “was my professor.”

Sunghoon looked you dead in the eye as he spoke his next words.

“Never look his way again jagiya. I’m dead serious.”

You laughed so hard, tears sprang to your eyes, while your boyfriend only looked at you with stars in his eyes.

Kim Seonwoo

“Oh?” Seonwoo peered over your shoulder at your phone, “You’re sending an e-mail?”

You looked at him with a faint smile, eyes softening at the sight of your dearest boyfriend.

“Yeah” you hummed, leaning on his shoulder, allowing him a better look at your phone. “I have to ask my professor if I can come to consultations because of the exam we’re having soon.”

Seonwoo nodded gravely, knowing what a tough time you were having with exams.

“Which professor is this?” he asked, having been acquainted with all of them through your stories about classes and tutorials.

You only offered him a sly grin as you finally sent the e-mail.

“Try and guess.” you giggled, putting your phone away. A rare feat for you.

Seonwoo groaned in annoyance.

“Come on Y/n!” he whined cutely, grabbing your hand and shaking it, “How am I supposed to know that?!”

You only laughed, taking a hold of his hand and interlocking your fingers with his.

“You remember the one I mentioned a while ago?” you giggled quietly, watching his eyes widen, “The one that’s new to the faculty? That one.”

“But whyyyyy” now he wholeheartedly whined, “you have me why do you need to see him!!”

The only thing you could do was burst into laughter at the way your boyfriend was pretending to be jealous.

“You’re not doing a very good job at pretending to be jealous.” you smiled at your adorable boyfriend.

“Because I’m not” he huffed, “I already know you’re mine. I have nothing to worry about.”

You only blushed at his confident words.

Yang Jungwon

“Wonnie!”

Jungwon would have been so happy to see you looking so excited to see him if his gaze wasn’t stuck to the man you were just squealing about with one of your friends.

Now, Jungwon took great pride in the fact that he wasn’t a complete jealous freak like some of his hyungs.

But.

There was something about your giddy, toothy smile that made him panic as his gaze was trained on the retreating figure of the man.

Not to mention he sometimes got insecure thinking you might want to be with someone your own age (or older).

“What’re you looking at?” you tugged on his jacket, a worried expression taking over your face. “What’s wrong Won?”

“Who was that?” he asked before he could stop himself.

He regretted it as soon as you made a confused noise.

“Who was who?”

“That… that person who you were just losing your mind over with Jamie,” he huffed, resigning himself to this fate.

You looked confused for another few moments before realisation dawned on your face and you giggled, tucking your face against his shoulder while hugging his arm.

“That’s my professor” you smiled brightly at him, “Jamie likes him a lot,” you giggled thinking about how much your friend likes to fan-girl about the older British man, “I am unfortunately, despite having such a wonderful, beautiful, smart and gorgeous boyfriend,” you listed praise after praise watching the blush on his face grow more and more vibrant, “not immune.”

You pressed a kiss to his piping hot cheek, not helping his current predicament and he whined cutely.

“But don’t worry,” you interlocked your hands and smiled even brighter at him, “I won’t look at him anymore~ Anything for my cute boyfriend~”

Nishimura Riki Ni-ki

Riki stared at the paper you were clutching and he couldn’t help but zero-in on the writing on it that clearly wasn’t yours.

He had an inkling it was another male specimen but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

“What’s that?” he nodded at the paper, deciding to go for the safest option.

“Hmm?” you turned to face him. “Oh, you mean this?” you waved the paper in your hand.

He nodded, ready for everything and nothing at the same time.

“It’s some feedback from my professor” you explained to him, bringing the paper closer to him so he could read it. “It’s for a project I'm doing right now. It’s 60% of my grade.”

“Oh,” his eyebrow scrunched, “what subject is this?”

You grinned manically and Riki’s heart jumped seeing the unhinged look on your pretty face.

“The one we have with our newest addition to the faculty” your smile was sharp and he knew you knew what he was about to say next.

“That new hot professor or something?”

You burst into laughter.

The words that left his mouth weren’t yours. You’d never say that about any of your professors. The words were uttered by your friend Mai when the three of you had gone out at the beginning of the semester.

But it seems that her reaction must have left an impression on your impossibly tall boyfriend and your laugh, slowed into a quiet, cute giggle as you raised your hand and hooked it around Riki’s neck in a half hug.

“I don’t even find him that attractive sugar sticks” you grinned and your cutie of a boyfriend only huffed letting you tug him against yourself in a cuddle, feeling your much shorter hands pull him into a warm embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest girls: @ch3rryc0smos & @janaicetea

if anyone wants to be a part of the taglist send an ask <3

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eltube · 13 days

Text

(new fic!) Evil-Adult-Anon

I wrote this fic as a gift for @kndrules’ birthday this year (Happy Birthday Jay!) and after he mentioned it offhand someone was interested in reading it—so I am posting it here for all to see!

It takes place in our adult AU, where—for reference—sector V members are about 35 years old. This fic doesn’t feature sector V, though; it stars Cree!! Who is in her forties, a Japanese history professor, and still coming to terms with her life after Father. (Father is recently in prison—basically, if you have any questions about the details of this timeline, feel free to ask about it.) It also features special guests (The) Steve and The Toilenator, though you may not recognize him at first.

Enjoy!

With every step she took into the hotel lobby, Cree gripped the shoulder strap of her canvas bag a little tighter. She had tried to dress casual, but put-together: one of her nicer cardigan sweaters, the pants she actually ironed, and her new shoes with the fancy broguing on the sides. Her locs were tied back in a small, loose bun behind her, and she figured that–at least if nobody zeroed in on the death grip of that one hand on her bag–she probably looked pretty composed from the outside.

She needed the death grip though, because the farther away she got from her partner’s familiar car, the more she felt her bravado slipping away, already making a smaller woman under this big, domed ceiling. Steve had told her way too many times that she’s “got this,” working his clueless magic that once again made her enough of a fool to believe him. Now, the stronger illusion of her–the stranger who so confidently waved at Steve as he dropped her off, as if this was all her idea–was looking down at her real self with a mixture of smug superiority and pity.

She ran her palm along the bag’s material as she walked on the lobby carpet, grounding herself (as she had been taught to call it) by feeling the bumps along the surface. She recognized and remembered the shapes of the file folders, overflowing with booklets of paper, packed inside. Cree had brought her students’ essays along with her, like she always did during exam seasons in case she had a few moments to catch up on marking them.

In this case, bringing the student papers along had been a kind of silent, last-ditch prayer of desperation. Like, maybe this whole thing would actually be cancelled, right? Everyone would go home, not even knowing she had shown up, and she could sit peacefully alone on these pearly white couches until Steve’s band finished practicing, just reading first-year history students’ takes on bushido and cracking up without a care in the world.

It wasn’t going to happen–but honestly, she just needed the fantasy to get her out the door. As the knots in her stomach were reminding her very loudly now, she really did not want to come.

Trying the grounding again, Cree focused on the surroundings of the hotel as she moved towards the conference room, reminding herself to “name three things” for each of her senses. She had resisted this strategy at first, how babyish it sounded. To her displeasure though, she had to admit that when she actually tried it eventually, the damn thing worked.

I hear…the front desk people typing. Luggage carts. A fountain.

I see…ugly wallpaper. Plants. A snack counter…huh, looks like they have ice cream. That logo is familiar.

I smell…what do hotels smell like? The scent of blandness? Parfum du nothing? ‘Clean stank’? Sure, those count as three things.

I taste…DAMMIT! FUCK! SHIT!

A jolt of surprised rage yanked Cree out of the ritual. She strode directly into something blocking her path, priming her to explode at whoever put it there–and then, just as fast, a wave of hot embarrassment followed. She realized she had knocked her foot against a sign outside the conference room. It was, actually, the exact sign she was supposed to be looking out for.

“SUPPORT GROUP HERE,”--the text on the cardboard seemed to be shouting out loud to mock her as it toppled over. Cree couldn’t help but project onto it like it was a person she hated, some shrill little kid maybe, pointing and going LOOK WHAT THIS WEIRD LADY DID for the whole hotel to hear. Scrambling to catch herself and prop the thing back up–make it be quiet–Cree looked around, praying that no one had seen her “calm” herself into a clumsy mess. Luckily, it seemed like it was a secret between her and the security cameras at most.

“So much for mindfulness,” she muttered to herself, silently cursing her therapist. That lady was definitely going to hear about the mess she caused with her advice next week. On the bright side, though, all the potential awkwardness Cree felt around walking into this conference room seemed tamer in comparison, now. She let out a long-suffering breath, reasoning that she had come this far, and put on a brave face as she crossed the threshold.

—

The room was set up just the way Cree had imagined it–she couldn’t tell if she found this funny or downright irritating, the cliche of the scene. The circle of folding chairs, the table of cheap coffee, the name tags…it all felt like the setup of a joke at her expense, and when she found herself taking a sharpie and actually writing Cree on one–eugh—that was the punchline.

A nametag, as if these people didn’t know exactly who she was. Even if she had changed her hair or her mannerisms much in the last 15 or so years, she was, she noted bitterly, the only Black woman in the room, so she would always be unmistakable.

At least no one’s staring at me. At least not until my back is turned.

The cheap label stuck to the right side of her sweater, she kept her hand on her bag as she sat slowly down in one of the chairs. It was stiff, but she took some small pride in having good posture. Others in the room, many of whom she was surprised not to recognize–shouldn’t I know everybody here?--were all milling around and making small talk, like friends. They smiled at each other, touched shoulders, laughed; they probably came here dutifully every second week while she was hiding at home.

People started to take their seats around her, and Cree tried to block the lonely resentment building in her gut from showing on her face. As the meeting started and the scattered conversations died down, she closed her eyes and conjured up her confident self from the car again, a witch conjuring ghosts of the past. She would need magic not to screw this up.

Directly across from her, one middle-aged man stayed standing with his hands folded; he, she assumed, was the group leader she talked to on the phone.

“Welcome, everybody,” he said, and his familiar voice confirmed Cree’s guess. “Now that everyone’s sitting, we can start.”

The man, tall and Latino with greying hair and broad arms, had already introduced himself to Cree last week as Paolo. He was friendly enough, and thoughtful enough with his direct invitation to attend the meeting, that she tragically couldn’t refuse it anymore without looking like a complete jerk. And as always seemed to be the case with these people, he said he knew who she was, but she never remembered meeting him–and again, she wondered if this tendency to erase people’s names and faces from her memory made her arrogant.

She tried to console herself with the fact that, at least in this case, there were reasons Paolo might have been forgettable; ice cream men were always wearing those stupid hats anyway, and they all looked the same in uniform. It’s not like she was hanging out with them back in the day—they were never even invited to those Anti-Kid Bingo Nights.

Ugh, she had almost forgotten how much she hated those.

“First of all,” Paolo continued, with the attention of the room bringing Cree back. “Thanks to everyone again who brought food. Feel free to say something about your recipe when we do the circle…if it’s not a family secret!”

There were good-hearted chuckles scattered around Cree where the older members sat, the kind she hears from the tenured professors pushing 70 at work. When she’s not scared of getting a day older, part of Cree looks forward to getting to an age where unfunny jokes make her laugh like that.

“Now, we’ll start with me like always. We don’t have too many new folks here today,”--and Cree felt his lack of eye contact with her here was deliberate–”but it’s always good to introduce ourselves just in case. So, hi everyone. My name’s Paolo–feel free to share just your first name, or your last too, whatever’s comfortable–and, well, when I’m not running this group, I’m the Ohio regional representative of Tasty Taste. It’s been really rewarding for me to help build the new face of the company, and, hey…I’m sure it’s also rewarding for us that I’m able to offer free ice cream to everyone here.”

There was a murmur of chuckles from the group again, and Cree remembered the stand she had passed on the way in, the shape and colours of the logo all clicking into place. The new face of the company. So the stand used to belong to…hell, maybe the whole hotel used to be his. Suddenly she felt a pang of nausea, like the chair she was sitting on might be coated in poisonous slime.

Paolo went on. “I’ll pass the intros around the circle now, and feel free to share anything about yourself. It can be a fact about you related to the group or not! Then we’ll go into a theme for this week’s discussion. Lou, you’re on my right–why don’t you go ahead?”

Paolo sat down, and the man next to him looked up and smiled at the group shyly. He was white and semi-elderly, with a belly but stringy, gangly limbs, and he sported a decidedly balding head of thin blonde hair. Cree didn’t recognize this guy, either, and assumed he was another ice cream man. How common was it, she wondered, for men like Paolo to still be working at Tasty Taste now?

“Hi, I’m Lou,” the new man said, and something about his voice sounded instantly familiar. “I brought some quiche today, but it is a bit of a family secret with my husband and me…” He grinned. “Um, I work as a [gastrointestinal specialist] now, but for a long time I guess people probably just knew me as a guy who walked around wearing a goofy costume…a guy who no one liked.”

With that bit of context, in his timid voice, it dawned on her. Holy shit. Her mouth fell open, shocked by how bizarrely normal he seemed across from her now. That’s the Toilenator.

Nobody noticed her gaping expression while Lou continued, now so clearly resembling a time-lapsed version of the villain, like a parody act that walked offstage. “It’s been great for me to get to know people through this group,” he smiled, “And I’m glad more people are coming every time. Sigmund doesn’t come with me since it’s not his experience, but he says he can really tell it makes a difference and he’s grateful to all of you.”

Lou sat back in his chair and the group clapped, something that Cree gathered was customary during this “introductions” phase. She awkwardly raised her hands and clapped once, feeling distinctly stupid, like she was at show-and-tell or something. How long has the Toilenator been married?

More than that—though she realized how cruel it was, while he was being vulnerable—Cree was embarrassed to think she had any common issues with the Toilenator.

As the next few people introduced themselves, their words blurred into nonsense and this parallel between them horrified her more and more. She was suddenly haunted by a mirror image of herself, wearing an oversized toilet seat around her head, getting bullied by people—who were, by all accounts, total freaks themselves—is that the kind of company she was seeking solace in?

More people spoke, mostly ice cream men, or B-list villains, or some guy who watered the lawn at the mansion. Ignoring them, she wondered if the Toilenator had any of the same messed up problems as her—maybe he even went to the same therapists about it. Maybe right after Cree left those offices, all woe-is-me, this old guy walked in after her, clearly doing so much better about it since he can be at home making quiche all day. As if all of this couldn’t be more humiliating, now the Toilenator was beating her at therapy!

“…would like to share something?”

Cree looked up as she noticed the room was staring at her, expectant. It was silent now, no one else sharing, meaning it must have been her turn to speak. She stupidly opened and closed her mouth and sat up straighter, running her hand along her canvas bag nervously again.

”I, uh.”

Paolo was looking over and smiling patiently, and the patience of it sort of made it worse.

”Sorry. I’m…I didn’t bring anything. Didn’t know it was a potluck. I um…well, you all know who I am. I’m Cree. You know me whether you met me back then or not. Everyone keeps telling me to come to one of these things, but I never felt like I…I dunno, deserved it. But now I’m here, so I guess I have to catch everyone up.”

Once the first words were out of her mouth, it became a kind of compulsion to speak, which in a way was a mercy. She caught faces with eyes burning into her, but fought the urge to try and read their thoughts.

”So, I was Father’s apprentice. For…10 years? Something like that.”

Speaking his name made it real. She might as well jump right into it.

”I guess, you know…I realized in my mid-20s, that after everything I worked for, I wanted out. It wasn’t worth it, and he never intended to give me any of the power he promised. I guess a lot of you worked for him for money, but he never even paid me. Then I realized it was his future or mine—he didn’t want me going to school, didn’t want me doing anything that took me farther away, and I guess…something in me sensed it would only get worse. I took a chance, I left, I cut contact and left for college and didn’t look back. I was scared he’d come after me but lo and behold the case against him came together just in time. And it’s only with him in prison that I feel like I can say anything without putting everyone I know in danger, so I’m not used to��saying anything. But I’m trying to start.”

The room was listening intently, with a kind of respect that she only got in a really good lecture—the kind she never expected and worried she couldn’t rise to. She kept talking anyway, facts spilling out of her that she was always worried would explode if exposed to the air.

”I had some distance from everything, and I compartmentalized everything from back then until I graduated, but…you know, I still live with all the shit I did, while I worked for him, while I was trying to prove that I could be him someday. What I did to kids, to my own kid sister…and I went to him, right? And I did it year after year, and I convinced myself they deserved it. I didn’t think it was right to call myself a victim, because of that. Sometimes I felt I should have been sentenced with him. But becoming…”

She took a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of the listening silence. “…becoming a teacher, when I’m working with my students…they’re all adults, right, but even then, I keep thinking…the power I have over them scares me. When I think about doing to them what he did, I feel sick, and it just makes me realize…damn, it was wrong when it happened to me, too. I was like that back then, just…young, and powerless, and wanting to impress someone who could move me up. No matter what it took, right? And he knew that. Even the guilt I’m feeling now, it…he made me feel it on purpose. And it worked.”

Cree had her eyes trained on the floor now, on a space between her shoes, and she was afraid to look up after saying what she knew was far too much. These people connected to her by Father’s common thread of abuse—she didn’t know if their pity or their total apathy to her pain would be more devastating. Whatever reaction there would be, it was the one she was afraid of—it was the escaping of the story, the reveal to the world, that hurt her every time.

—

Cree felt her arm quickly shoot up to her face to wipe at a hot tear escaping. She and Steve had joked on the way over about how her crying was an inevitability, that it was just about how many fugitive tears she let get away. She thought she had prepared for it then, but she never could.

”Cree,” Paolo said in the silence, his voice sounding even-toned and not so sympathetic as to taunt her. “We are all so glad that you came to a meeting. And though it may not be at all close to what you’ve experienced in its intensity, I think you’ve put words to a dynamic that many of us in this group felt in our work lives for a long time.”

Cree bit down on her cheeks and braved glancing up again, seeing that several people were nodding respectfully, including Lou, who had an indisputably kind smile on his face. She wanted to mock it, but it was too genuine for that.

The woman sitting beside Cree wordlessly handed her a tissue and a glass of water, which she sheepishly accepted. When Paolo continued he addressed the entire group, taking attention away from her, helping her come back from where she had gone.

”Many people have said in group before,” Paolo said, gesturing to the circle, “that we have feelings of guilt, like you described. That we feel we can’t be considered Father’s victims, because we weren’t children when he hurt us, or because he didn’t hit us physically, or because we only suffered abuse in the workplace and not interpersonally.” There were more nods around him.

“It comes up quite often, too, that members of the group are ourselves perpetrators—we hurt children on his payroll, and so we had no right to speak. And it’s true that many of us are guilty of things that we very well may not be forgiven for.” Paolo shrugged. “I’ve spoken to some people, former Kids Next Door operatives, who I hurt while I was an ice cream man. I want nothing more than to reconcile with them, but some of them—rightfully, I think—don’t speak to any of us. There’s a reason this group is for people who worked for Father. We all feel this tension. But it is powerful to break the cycle.”

Cree smiled, finding Paolo’s speech corny, but in a way that released some tension in her. The Toilenator—Lou, Cree reminded herself—was standing up and passing a dish around, apparently sensing an opportunity to relax everyone further. A thin elderly man looked over as he took a piece of quiche, adding his input:

“I had hoped I would see you at a meeting soon, Ms. Lincoln,” he said, and she immediately recognized his voice as the butler, Wintergreen’s. He broke into a smile at the way her eyes must have widened. “Yes, it’s been many years—and I often wondered if you were well, after you disappeared.” His face grew serious again, and he added: “I saw a lot of things back then that, if I could go back, I would not have allowed, or so I tell myself. There are people I would have protected. If I had been a better man…well. The point is to be a better man, now. Though a very old one, certainly.”

That old refrain of laughter, of middle-aged amusement at a tired joke, bubbled up and helped eat away at the nerves of the moment. Cree’s smirk was one of genuine mirth, this time. Her mind swirled with possibilities of what Wintergreen had been doing, feeling, all this time. Here was someone who served Father tea, who made the delightful children sandwiches for lunch. She had never even thought he had a conscience. But in its way, that must weigh on him, too.

Maybe she wasn’t—in every way—alone.

”I became a teacher after I left the business, too,” one ice cream man added, holding a hand under his quiche to catch the crumbs. “And I think what you said about teaching—seeing yourself in your students, and everything—well, that was a really good point. My students are adult learners, and in a new country, so sometimes when I see them lacking confidence, I remember how I felt when I messed up at work and Father exploded at me…you know, it takes me right back there. I’m not an angry guy, and I try to make class fun, but I just think…what if? What if that’s me one day? Sometimes I even have to leave the class because it messes me up. But, I don’t know if this is true for you…it makes it feel more rewarding to do it the right way. To be patient and not like some tyrant. I keep reminding myself that’s not who I am, because I get to decide.”

”I feel the same way about my patients,” Lou beamed, sitting back down now that the quiche tray was empty. “I love reassuring them, especially about things that are embarrassing, like stomach issues can be.” He shrugged. “Humiliation was a common theme in the ways all the villains targeted me, but it doesn’t have the same power anymore.”

”Damn, everyone sure moved up!” Cree thought aloud, laughing in spite of herself. “I guess the job market can’t be that bad, huh?”

”Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Paolo laughed back. “After all, this group is my big career move, and they pay me in quiche!”

The response to this quip was uproarious, so disproportionately so that Cree found herself earnestly cackling along. As the evening wound down, the relief of introducing herself gave way to a rush of endorphins, powering her forward.

She had conversations with people her teen self would have never spoken to—wouldn’t have been caught dead sitting in a circle with. That old outline of herself would have called this group a joke, a bunch of expired villains sitting in a circle like a kindergarten class, a cautionary tale about what happens when you let yourself go soft.

She would have laughed about that with her teen ninja friends and then gone home alone, tried to sleep with the pit in her gut, knowing that she’d have to meet him tomorrow, to give her report, to get her orders. In the back of her mind, Cree thought to herself how much she would have wanted to hold that lonely girl. How much she wished she could call her up and invite her here herself.

—

By the time Cree met the car in the parking lot, she had four phone numbers tucked in her pocket, scrawled on hotel stationary in shaky hands by people who swore they had gotten the hand of technology enough to stay in touch. She often told people she’d call them or text them, fully intending to throw their cards in the trash the second she left—she didn’t intend that, this time. Though she guessed that time would always tell.

Steve unlatched the door handle and grinned at her from the front seat, a fry from the fast food place nearby hanging out of his mouth. “What’sh up?” He said, lips full, and then swallowed quickly to free up his speech. “Band practice was awesome today, you’re gonna love the new album.”

Cree climbed in, slung her bag over her shoulder and onto the floor in front of her. She realized how heavy it was, what she had been carrying all day.

“I’ll judge that when I hear it,” Cree grinned back. “Did you get me a burger?”

“‘Course.” Steve shook the paper bag beside him. “Your go-to after a rough day. I’m guessing you need it, huh? Tell me about everything that sucked on the way home, I’m all ears.”

“Actually,” Cree looked out the window, watching the hotel start to roll past as the car moved. She smiled again despite herself. “I was gonna say you can have it. The eating’s pretty good at these things. And man, you won’t believe who made the food.”

#Knd #My writing #i don’t know if that’s the fic tag i decided on i will update this later #Cree lincoln #the toilenator

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 2 years

Text

(CW: abuse in a fictional book, including sexual abuse)

My dear lgbt+ kids,

In this letter, I want to share some worries I struggled with while writing and publishing my second novel. (I will write this assuming that you have not read it - I know most of you can not read it as it is written in my native language German!)

It's called "Wunschkind" (which translates to "wanted child") and is a psychological thriller about an abusive relationship. The main characters are the 35-year-old Royden and the 19-year-old Noah. They started dating 5 years ago when Royden became the legal guardian of Noah who is disabled.

There is more to the plot but that's all you need to know for this letter.

I explicitly used the term "abusive relationship" here but you probably would have guessed that even if I didn't - you just need to do the math to see that this can't be a healthy relationship. 19 minus 5 equals" definitely not the age group a 30-year-old should pursue sexually".

Yes, the book title "Wanted Child" is meant to have a dark double meaning.

Just like in most abusive relationships in real life, the abuse in the novel (after a phase of intense adoration and love-bombing) starts out as emotional abuse and social isolation of the victim and slowly escalates to physical and sexual abuse. And that's one of the reasons Noah, just like most abuse victims in real life, does not understand right away that he is being abused.

This book was a passion project for me. I wanted to show why abuse victims oftentimes can't "just walk away". I wanted to show why leaving an abuser is much more difficult than a usual break-up and why abuse victims often do not realize they are being abused until the abuse becomes life-threatening. I also wanted to show how abuse intersects with discrimination (like ableism, racism and homophobia) and the additional struggles that victims in marginalized groups face.

And yet, even with a clear vision of why I am writing about abuse, there was an internal struggle I had while writing it. I worried: What if someone reads this and thinks those two characters are meant as a representation of a healthy gay relationship? What if someone takes this as me promoting or glorifying abuse?

There were certain steps I took to help readers make an informed decision to buy and read this novel:

explicitly using the term "abuse" in the blurb

mentioning the age difference in the blurb

To avoid needlessly triggering readers, I also decided to:

not actually show the sexual abuse on the page (writing scenes that take place before and after - but no actual rape scene)

having a third character show clear discomfort with their relationship dynamics and later explicitly label it as abusive (to counteract the main character who is at this point still denying that he is being abused)

Abuse is a sensitive topic and needs to be handled responsibly, not just carelessly thrown around as a cheap plot point. But with all those conscious decisions on my part - couldn't someone still read it and take it totally the wrong way? Could someone read it and still say "Ew, this Oliver Ernst guy is clearly okay with adult men abusing minors, why else would he write a whole book about it" or even "I actually think their relationship is hot, it's just an age difference kink :)" (and did I have literal nightmares about potentially receiving feedback like that?)? Yes, yes, and yes.

But - and this is an important but - as a writer, I need to trust not only myself to get my point across, I also need to trust my readers. I need to trust them to pick up the point and understand it.

If I don't trust them, I would need to chew up the darker themes until they are super easy to swallow - but who wants to eat something pre-chewed? In that case, I could only write books that either go "Everyone is super nice. Nothing happens. The end." or "Here is a fictional book about a dark topic! but it's actually an in-depth nonfiction philosophical-psychological essay about said topic with no characters or plot." I don’t want to do either.

So, I will keep writing about important topics, even if they are dark - while doing my best to help readers make an informed decision about reading them and avoiding needlessly triggering content.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

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thesmutalorian · 4 months

Note

Yeah they made the feral predator way too hot. The credits came on and I immediately went to Ao3 like “let’s see what the girlies have to say about thissssss” 🤭 I saw the original predator almost a decade ago and as much as I liked it, never would of guessed I’d be here now 🙂

the ooman shit kills me, like why do they have these scary ass aliens saying such silly shit I’m gonna die.

Turns ouuuuut, I actually have more to sayyyyy, but you don’t have to respond: I feel bad bc I don’t have an Ao3 account so I can never comment, but Gorl if I did, id have a whole essay for every chapter, including reaction images 😤. Ik you aren’t currently writing from Ta'Kesh’s POV (which is perfectly fine lol), but I really appreciated how you did so. The predator POV is so fun to read, they’re just so damn cold and pragmatic and just ALIEN yk? (Ta’kesh makes me laugh bc he’s such a lil psycho lol). At least when done right I think. The dynamic you have set up is really interesting, like I love a good slow burn enemies to friends to lovers, but the cultural differences and species hierarchy sets it up for some really fascinating (JUICY) interactions/character development. I was unfortunate enough to come upon your story very early, there aren’t many other fics that hold up to the standard you set! (Have you read The Devil You Know? One of the only other quality fics I’ve found that seems to accurately portray that sort of dynamic- 10/10 recommend).

But anyway, the arrogance, the entitlement, just the cold bluntness makes predator fic so engaging to me. When you take a person with that deeply ingrained of a mindset (that’s another aspect I love, the question of whether or not yautjas are innately “predatory” or if it’s largely due to cultural upbringing) and force them to interact with with someone they deem inferior in a way they never have had to before (and there was only ONE BED heheh) I’m eating that shit up with 2 hands like GOOD SOUP!!😤😤😤

I appreciate it even more with a quality OC and I like Charlie a lot. I really struggle with reader/you fics bc beyond me just being like “lol I would not do that”, I like having an established character to root for :). She has an interesting past that you’ve managed to portray in an appealing and unostentatious way. Reminds me of Rust cohle from True Detective. I like that she’s very brave, but not to the point of ridiculousness lol. She has her moments where she’s able to act courageously in order to try to survive, but still gets intimidated/scared (extremely valid) sometimes with the big ass scary aliens. Do you have anyone in mind for how she looks?

Some highlights so far:

Greatly enjoyed ta’kesh’s cringe fail lake venture where Charlie showed his ass up while he fucking stands in the background looking like a drowned ass rat ahahah but watching her Commit Violence like 👀

Idk why but aliens using bidets is so fucking funny to me

Kinda living for ta’kesh being a dork and talking to his cat all the time hehe

let me see what the girlies have to sayyyyy 👏🏼 absolutely the correct response. my friend and I stand by that alien v predator could've been entirely more romantic if they were brave enough but 🤪 no cause literallyyyyy when I read ooman I hear it in a baby voice and I canNOT take it seriously, like bless those authors truly but whoever started the ooman precedent.... I just wanna talk 🧍🏻‍♀️ and girly pop ofc I'm gonna respond you took the time to let me know how you feel and I /love/ interaction okay (I think there's a way to comment anon on ao3 with like a guest account or name or something but maybe I'm wrong idk) but either way you take the time I want to show my appreciation

I stopped his POV just cause I felt like I was backtracking and I'm already so slow (rip sorry) but I really do want to come back to it in the future just to have fun revealing his inner workings (cause sometimes I be writing things and giggling like pookie is such a brat and then I remember y'all can't hear the goofy ass voices in my head and you only know the story I show you) but yes yes their differences are gonna play out in so many ways that I just can't wait for 😇 AND YES IVE READ FRIGGY one of the few I made it all the way through and then had to literally have a whole moment to process that there wasn't a second part 😗😗 sick I tell you, sick,, but I completely understand the not being able to read FPOV or self insert because of the "ummm I would never" --- because that's EXACTLY how I started writing 💀😭 I was chatting w my friend and we were like ok but isn't it kinda weird how fast some of these fmc just like... accept the whole ass murder crab men? also--- how do they survive well in space and from there Charlie was born ahahahHA I was like ok but what if I made it realistic for bits (as realistic as scifi can be) and then asked people to suspend their disbelief for the fun bits like the space pond and the tail n shit 🤭🤭

I have a whole board of art for ta'kesh but I've never really stopped to think about Charlie 🧐🧐

YES DROWNED RAT IS SOOOOO RIGHT mans really does have an ego, which, like rightfully earned? but also... must be checked whenever author feels he needs it (all the time 😇)

the bidet was me being like what is something that isn't necessarily commonplace, but feels bougie enough that an advanced society would have it regularly around.... ah yes.... Bidet.

ta'kesh is a cat girl, confirmed

I promise to bring you more good soup in the future 🍲

#ao3 #yautja #answered #close quarters #fanfic

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celestemagnoliathewriter · 1 year

Note

Ok but Please what’s YOUR Favorite (good) things about Remus lupin?

Oh anon. Get ready for an essay, because my love for Remus Lupin knows no bounds.

He is generous. Ex: he gives Harry & co chocolate right away. Yes, he's poor and shabby, but he shares what little he has. He is constantly sharing himself and his talents with others, even when he has nothing.

He's clever and witty. He was part of the gang making the Marauder's Map, he liked a good prank, and look at how he was with Peeves in PoA - sending him off like it was nothing and Dean thinking it was so cool.

He's got some darkness. I do think this is a good thing, actually, because it often comes out with righteous anger. Remus is a sad man, given the shitty hand he got in life, and that does come out as anger. Think of the time he tried to kill Wormtail - 'goodbye, Peter.' was his last line to Peter before he almost killed him. I mean, c'mon. Polite 100%. Appropriate 100%. Devastating 100%. I love that so much.

He's a good teacher. I think it speaks volumes that Harry & co, the Weasleys, Dean, and so many others are quick to defend him. He had a unique teaching style and the obstacle course at the end of PoA was brilliant. It was clear he loved what he did and he was good at it.

He's a good listener. I like that with Harry, he does often resort to questions like 'is that so?' 'do you really think that?' which is a Socratic method of teaching. I am biased, because this is actually how I teach, by asking questions and seeing what students think, correcting them along the way when they need help. I love that Remus teaches this way, even when he's not formally their professor anymore.

But, what I love MOST about Remus Lupin is how deeply loving he is. He's not perfect at loving and the way he shows love is often backwards and stupid, but he loves SO much. You might say it was ridiculous that he didn't see Harry in canon before PoA, but think about it: he's a werewolf who has nothing. Compared to the Dursleys who live in a nice house, in what world would Remus even think he could be better? It's possible he did check on Harry but maybe got turned away by Petunia. By the time of PoA-HBP, yes, the onus is more on him to try for a relationship with Harry, but with Sirius in the picture for most of it, maybe he didn't want to step on any toes. Yes, he could've done better but he kept a distance, thinking it was best for Harry. That doesn't even scratch the surface of how he was with Tonks.

Remus and his love for Tonks. I have written so much fanfic of these two, so I'll let those words speak for themselves in some ways, but what I love about the way Remus loves Tonks is that it's so profound, so life-changing, and so devastating is that he's willing to walk to his death to keep her from the challenges of loving a werewolf. It's totally true that Remus took away some of her agency here, thinking he knew better, and that's a flaw. But to understand Remus and the way he loves, just look at the way he was with Tonks. In OoTP you can see some gentle teasing. If you see Lupin, most of the time you see Tonks. In HBP, they're both hot messes. In DH, it starts precariously and ends in tragedy, but not without the biggest moment of happiness with Teddy. Every single one of those things was his way of expressing love. Gentle teasing and friendship - he was probably flirting with her without realizing it and she returned it right back (he was clueless or in denial). Leaving her in HBP - the man probably half-starved himself, slept outside, and suffered just so he could give Tonks an out. What kind of person does that? The kind of person who loves so much, so profoundly, that they are willing to endure whatever it takes for the betterment of another. Flawed and stupidly noble, yes. But at the end of the day, the total suffering he endures in HBP is not necessarily for the Order or for the war, but for Tonks, to give her a chance to break free. Even his abandonment of Tonks when she's pregnant is him trying (and failing) to show her and their baby how much he cares. He's so broken that he thinks they're better off without him. He leaves because he's so concerned for their safety and well being that he thinks he's better off on a death adventure tour than with his wife. I mean, look at the way he announces himself when he gets to Grimmauld Place. He includes, as part of his self-identification, that he is Nymphadora's husband, and she likes to be called Tonks. Even when he's left her, he is like THAT'S MY WIFE. Even when he's ready to go on a death tour with Harry & co, he's got Tonks at the forefront of his mind because she is his wife and he loves her. Of course he comes back to her, thanks to Harry setting him straight (again, good listener). And when Teddy is born you see how Remus has been changed and grown - he's so stupidly happy that he's got a family. That they love him. That his son is healthy. That he's gotten everything he ever wanted, a family.

Of all the things to love about Remus Lupin, it's his profound capacity for love and how he shows it. It's not perfect and it's often so stupid and backwards that you want to punch him, but from his POV it's the highest form of love. It's self-sacrifice to the point of being willing to die so that others have a better life.

#remus lupin #pro remus lupin #remus john lupin #hp meta #remus angst #harry potter meta

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erinptah · 1 year

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Your thoughts on jakemark? I started to like it quite recently and I find them extremely underrated

All the headmate shipping combinations are A+ good in my book 👍

And, uh, my hand slipped and I wrote an essay, here...

I think the Steven sides of the triangle are easier to make happen, because Steven wears his heart on his sleeve (see: gushing over Layla after knowing her for 5 minutes), and is willing to put in the effort to drag the emotions out of somebody more closed-off (see: the entire Duat). So he can take the emotional initiative with both Marc and Jake.

Marc is more closed-off and withdrawn, with this persistent underlying feeling of "I don't deserve nice things, I don't get to ask for things I want, I shouldn't even think about wanting things." (Layla definitely also took a lot of emotional initiative, or they wouldn't have ended up together in the first place.)

And Jake -- okay, his MCU scenes are tiny and his comicverse characterization is wildly inconsistent, but here's the version I write, based on "cherry-picking only the character notes I like and mashing them all together."

Jake is willing to be open and sociable about surface-level things, but his underlying hang-up is "I can't talk about things that are really important to me, those are vulnerabilities, and if I'm too obvious about them, they'll be used against me."

So Marc's first instinct when he finds out about Jake is "oh no, this must be someone scary and dangerous and monstrous, because I know how bad I am, and if I couldn't handle knowing about him before, how much worse must he be?"

Which just reinforces Jake's existing approach of "showing any weakness or soft spots is a bad idea, and Marc in particular doesn't like or trust me at all, so why would I risk being vulnerable in front of him?"

I figure they would soften up toward each other once the whole system spends some time adventuring together...but then they get caught in a standoff where both of them think "okay, that guy's not so bad, maybe I even care about him...but he's obviously still got his walls up against me, so I'm gonna be cool and keep my distance and not make this weird."

So to make the good ship actually sail, you need some outside force to break the standoff! Or else they'll keep spinning around in that infinite loop forever.

Personal favorite approach is for Steven to break the loop. He did the feelings-wrangling for each of these idiots individually -- he can bloody well roll up his sleeves and tackle both at the same time, if that's what it takes!

(...This is the approach I'm taking in the Cover of Knight universe, and, well, we're 100K+ words in, and Jake+Marc are still only at the point of "we can let ourselves show affection toward each other IF Steven's in the middle to act as a buffer." It's totally possible they're headed towards "okay, sure, technically we're having full-on hot headspace sex with each other -- but only because Steven thinks it's hot to watch, and we think it's hot to indulge him -- it's not like we like each other or anything.")

#Moon Knight #Ptah's inbox #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Layla El-Faouly #ship manifesto #FullMoon #Cover of Knight

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 2 years

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do you have an example of a post where an academic theory is rephrased as a hot take? most of the dracula content ive seen is just memes, so that sounds fun to read. (also, thanks for teaching me the word "acafan", ive been one for a few years now but didnt realize there was a term for it)

@ckret2 talks here about takes being bantered around on Tumblr that show deep academic knowledge of Dracula!

I'm not actually in Dracula fandom. I've got the world's biggest case of sour grapes about Dracula. My Canadian university had a campus in Italy where you could take a course on like, Dracula and the Origins of the Vampire Mythos, that included its own two-week trip through the Balkans and Central Europe, and I wanted to go SO badly, but there was no way I could afford it, so I decided that I Didn't Care, Dracula was Probably a Stupid Book Anyway. (I know it's not, but it was that or have more money angst, you know?)

ANYWAY. ACAFANDOM.

The rest of this is not Dracula related at all, but this is my blog and I'll rant if I want to. What I'm really fascinated by is the academic study of fandom, treating fannish culture and the works we create as legitimate objects of the academic gaze.

Did you know: The Organization for Transformative works, which runs the AO3, also has its own open-access peer-reviewed scholarly journal?

Transformative Works and Cultures

Their current Call for Papers is for a special issue on Centering Blackness in Fan Studies; the most recent issue is about Fandom Histories, which is to say, how fandoms tend to preserve, remember, and represent our past.

(dreamily) One day I'll get my shit together and write an essay for the Symposium section of TWC, which is the space they've set aside for voices from fandom who aren't part of the Academic Establishment.

Two of its founding editors, Kristina Busse and Karen Hellekson, also edited the 2006 book Fan Fiction and Fan Communities in the Age of the Internet: New Essays. Which has an essay that blew my mind and changed the way I think about relationships forever.

Specifically, it was Elizabeth Woledge's "Intimatopia: genre intersections between slash and the mainstream", where she took a conversation that was happening in academic discussions of romance novels and brought slash into it.

Basically, romance scholars were talking about what the difference is between a romance novel, pornography, erotica, or any book that features a love story, because readers sure as hell know that those are all different things. And one of the theories was that the romance genre has this ethos it called the romantopia, an overriding sensibility that what this story is about is the main characters coming together to form a strong marriage. (This is compared to the erotopia of pornography, where the story is "about" the main characters coming together to reach sexual climax.)

And what Woledge said she found quite frequently in m/m slash written by women was a focus on intimacy, on the experience of being deeply seen and known and loved by someone, deeply seeing and knowing and loving them in return, and building a relationship based on that mutual intimacy. Her "Intimatopia" theory says that what these fics were trying to get at was not just a relationship where the participants had agreed to fulfill certain societal expectations together, like "husband", but to deeply interrogate the needs and desires of everyone involved, and define the relationship based on those.

(This theory explains some parts of why slash fandom is perpetually enamored of tropes like fake dating and forced intimacy. You can have characters who achieve both marriage and orgasm, but don't really know each other('s feelings), so the story isn't over yet.)

Which... as a bi girl in the mid-2000s who longed for sex and romance, but was completely starved for positive queer stories, and also didn't find most mass media depictions of heterosexuality appealing: Yes, that is exactly what slash provided me with. Beyond the queer representation, I found that the occasional het written by slash writers was also way more focused on the female partners as individual people, and didn't push them as much into traditional roles, compared to the times I wandered into primarily het-oriented fandoms and was startled by just how heteronormative everything was.

A lot of the writers I adored were queer women who didn't face as much pushback writing flawed and messy men as they did if they dared write problematic femslash, but they were still writing really authentically about the queer lives, experiences, and sensibilities they lived with. Male characters were just as affected by homophobic laws, attitudes, social forces, and military policies as they were, after all. Their male characters reacted, in real-time, to the events that changed their writers' lives.

(About the femslash, I... look, I tried to like femslash in the 2000s. I tried so hard. But albeit some exceptions like The Devil Wears Prada fandom, it seems that there was huge internal community pressure to represent lesbian relationships as idyllic and friction-free. Everything had to be neat and clean and good and giving. Everyone was automatically good at empathizing and accommodating and compromising and nobody felt like people. Especially not the people from the source material I'd fallen in love with. When I found later that one of the big femslash sites was called "Passion and Perfection" it felt like, of fucking COURSE it was.)

So I mostly got my first experiences of sapphic relationships not from the fanfiction itself, but from the personal lives of the writers. They'd blog about their relationships, about who did the dishes and how to persuade your doctor that no really, you're sexually active but not at risk of being pregnant. They talked freely about how changing legalization about same-sex marriage would affect their lives. And they'd often interact with each other in public; a lot of relationships were between fans who both participated in the community, and would collaborate artistically, or organize each other surprise birthday gifts, or write stories to cheer each other up or comfort the other person during times of separation. They represented the diverse queer quotidian possibilities of relationships where you threw out the gender roles and got to be weird together.

And I think... without acafandom, none of that would have felt important or real. For a long time, I would have said that I didn't have any real connections to the LGBTQ+ community. Early on I got a lot of messages that bisexuals weren't welcome in most of the in-person spaces I found, and nothing that I tried later fit either. I didn't like clubbing, loud music, drinking, or loud parties, so none of the LGBT events in my area felt like they were "for" me. And to be honest, unless they were in slash fandom, the reactions of gay men to fanfiction had pretty much all been somewhere on a scale from "derisive" to "scathing": "This isn't about real men. This is garbage and it doesn't represent us."

Which like, fair, I don't feel "represented" by 1950s pulp novels or 90% of recorded lesbian porn, or frankly, most femslash of the 2000s. I wouldn't recommend that era of slash to your average gay man as comfort reading.

But there was something there, in those stories, in that culture, that nourished my soul in deeper ways than I could even say. There was something in this thing we were doing that was important. And Elizabeth Woledge helped me start to explain why.

And in my life as a student and employee, it didn't matter as much how I got my knowledge, but if I used it and showed up on LGBTQ+ issues. It mattered if the old forms I typed up at work got edited to use gender-neutral language. If I corrected academic or direct-service discussions on relationships and intimate partner violence to include more accurate information about LGBTQ+ people. If I pushed for privacy and data management policies that would allow LGBTQ+ people to be open about their identities in some situations without exposing that information to others. If I could make sure that other LGBTQ+ people in the vicinity could see they were welcome and safe. If I could explain proposed legislation changes to people with the power to vote or agitate in some way about them, to make them more sympathetic.

(And yes it's fucked up that I feel like, as a bi woman, I have to pierce my breast and bleed out for the community before I will really "deserve" to belong there. But I do.)

So... yeah. Acafandom's really close to my heart, the way fanfiction is, because without it, there's a lot of my experience that would just feel too weak and frail to form into any sort of social narrative. By using the incredibly powerful tools of scholarly analysis, and taking fan experiences seriously as objects worthy of study, we can figure out what about these things we're all doing actually works. We have more tools to face the future with.

#long post #rambling #acafandom

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