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sophiamcdougall · 4 months

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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you. I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age." -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

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prettycheryl36 · 2 years

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#full length #checkitout #articles #earlyminter #cryptocurrency news channel #followforfollowteam #likes4likes #bitcoin latest news #subscribe #learning #community #bitcoin #follow #pls share #crypto news #worth reading #currently reading #youtube

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kissohee · 5 months

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We had first time with virgen!anton...

Can we have a little shot of their first time having that heating makeout session?? Pls.

virgin!anton x virgin!fem!reader ☆ nsfw ; wc : 992 ☆ one-shot mdni! warnings; anton gets a boner, male masturbation, quite literally uses the same dialogue from the full fic, written in antons pov read full fic here! a/n; sure! i kind of loved writing that small part too sooo ^^

There was nothing Anton loved more than to kiss you. He was sure it was because he was just so in love with you. And although the kisses were very short and sweet, they meant the world to him.

So of course when you're kissing him longer than usual, he swears he could fly. Every time you pull away to get ahold of your breath, he's pulling you back in for more. It was like there were magnets inside your lips that he just couldn't stop attracting to. He knew the kiss got more suggestive when you moved to sit on his lap without pulling apart, your hands moving to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your tongue desperate in his mouth, mixing your spit together. His fingers slightly grazing your breasts, but not daring to touch them in case it wasn't what you wanted. He remembers someone mentioning to him about hickies once, and he absolutely loved the idea of his marks on you. So he slowly broke your kiss, leaving pecks down your jaw and onto your neck. You gripped his shoulders as he explored your skin, sucking on spots in hopes to leave a bruise, but not hard enough to hurt you in any way. It wasn't until he felt your grip harden when his lips touched a certain spot, where he softly took the skin between his teeth. The sound that came out of you so melodic to his ears. He needed to hear more of you. His lips traveled down to your chest, focusing on mainly your collarbones. When you said his name, he thought he had gone to far. It wasn't a moan, but more of you genuinely trying to get his attention. He stopped to look at you, your eyes however traveled down to his crotch. Scared to glance at it too, he finally felt it. His cock throbbed against the sweats he was wearing. Fuck. Without thinking, he removed you from his lap, placing his hands on top so you couldn't look anymore. "Oh my god.." Your eyes never leaving the bulge, Anton swears he's gonna faint. "I'm so sorry.." His voice decreasing to a whisper. "Why are you sorry?" Your attempt to not laugh went unnoticed by him, his focus everywhere else. His cheeks flushed "I don't know... It's.." He found himself having trouble forming sentences, "That's so gross of me, I don't know why it.." He was already hooking his legs off your bed, reading to get up and leave. But he felt your arms wrap around him in an attempt to comfort him, "You're a male human," You rest your head on his shoulder, "I don't think it's gross... It happens." That did not comfort him. There were many times in Anton's life where he felt embarrassment, but this one was by far the worst. Neither of you moved, he couldn't move. He felt frozen. He tried making himself feel better by reminding himself that you love him, and you've already expressed that you aren't disgusted. But still, your words don't take him back in time to avoid the situation. Despite the fact that he physically couldn't move, he felt his cock twitch. He should leave and go home, but then that means he'd have to go out in public like this. His desired solution would just be to die. But then at his funeral someone would have to bring up that he 'Died from embarrassment after popping a boner under his girlfriend.' Anton swears he was fighting demons in his head until he decided to just suck it up and jerk one off. "The.. Your.. Bathroom.." He stumbles over his words before leaving your room and heading to your bathroom in a hurry. If he's quick, he could just pretend he really needed to shit.

Leaning against a bare wall, he lowered all articles of clothing between him and his cock, his hand softly tugging on it while he bit on his index finger on his other hand. The feeling of his hand wrapped around his cock had him biting down slightly harder on his finger. His mind wandered back to the situation, to you. How much better you would feel than his hand right now. He tightened his hand to mimic your hand, which was much smaller than his. Was he a terrible person for imagining you, despite the fact that you were dating him? He wasn't sure, and he sure didn't care enough to stop and think. "Anton?" Fuck. "Are you okay?" Fuck fuck fuck. "On-one second!" He heard your footsteps walk back to what he assumed was your room after you acknowledged it. He was too busy to bother with his finger again, so he let quiet moans slip from his mouth. He didn't think they were loud enough for you to hear, especially considering your room wasn't too close to the bathroom. He's never felt so much sensation from his had before, which just drew even more moans from him. He was so close, he could feel it. His head couldn't catch up with his cock, as his cum covered his hand, hips twitching while it was released. He took his lip between his teeth so he could contain any louder moans than he ones he had already let out. When the bathroom finally stopped spinning, he cleaned himself up with urgency. How long has he been in here? He wasn't sure, but what he does know is that it was much longer than he had hoped. He quickly washed his hands, praying to avoid any awkwardness when he opened the door. He found you sitting on your bed, chewing on the sides of your cheeks as your eyes traveled everywhere but on him. "Walls are thin 'Ton..." This was the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to him. There was absolutely no way Anton could ever face you ever again.

this was small and not really detailed but still 😭 - 🐠

#𐙚 anonies #riize smut #anton smut #anton x reader #riize x reader #𐙚 riize talk

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madddays · 1 year

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camera shy

pairing: yoongi x reader (f) summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (it’s a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour warnings: smut -- oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (they’re married it’s fine), terribly thought-out plot note: hello!!! i haven’t written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the “current timeline” but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but that’s where the title came from and i couldn’t think of another. okay. anyway.

Being on tour is exhausting.

You’re not sure you have the right to complain – you’re not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husband’s emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you.

And you’re dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely — the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence — being an idol’s wife didn’t really make you the most… sympathetic character.

So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum.

“If I have to duck out of one more cameraman’s way today…” you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs.

“There’s only so long they can spend in your room,” he placates. “And tomorrow you’ll have use of the business centre again.”

You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. You’re finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then —

“That’s it!” you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression.

“Whoops,” he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where he’d bumped the desk. “Should probably keep that closed.”

You see red. Just as you’re about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears.

“Jagiya,” Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. “I’m sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.”

You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. He’s turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in.

It’s not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed — a BTS member’s first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldn’t afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t the star. “No,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. I’ll try to be good.”

At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. “I’m not asking for a miracle,” he teases. “Just a little patience.” You roll your eyes. You can behave.

Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. “If that man crosses me one more time, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. He’s never more radiant than when he’s singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fans’ eyes — gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all.

And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you.

But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You can’t exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel.

So you stay behind tonight. It’s the last day of the American leg, and you’ve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines.

You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because you’d promised your boss an exclusive — first dibs on Agust D’s experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldn’t be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) you’re excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin.

But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Korea’s impact on global fashion getting to the finish line.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera that’s trained on the desk Yoongi’s claimed and flip it the bird.

Job done and borderline invasive filming (it’s only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, there’s not much left to do but wait.

When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesn’t provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. It’s not technically work if you’re just reading a dozen trashy ‘Who Wore It Best?’ segments. “Anne Hathaway, hwaiting!” you mutter to yourself.

--------------- xxx ---------------

A couple hours later, you’re still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard.

“Unnie, are you okay?” asks Ari, one of the stylists. “I was coming to call you to eat!”

“Oh, you’re all back! One sec!” You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ari’s surprised face greeting you. “Thanks, Ari-yah,” you grin, locking arms with her. “How was the show?”

“It was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.” Her face screws up a little. “He ripped another one of the jackets, though.”

An inconvenience to her, but you don’t share the irritation. Yoongi’s broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. “Oh,” you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, “that’s annoying.” Ari snorts.

“Sure. At least it’s new costumes for the next leg. We’ll refit them.”

You practically vibrate with excitement at that. “I haven’t seen them yet! I’m sure you all did an awesome job!”

She blushes. “I think it’ll be good! They’re not totally finalized yet, but I’ll send you a ton of pictures.” Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly.

Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they should’ve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.

“Come on,” you hear him grumble. “It’s not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.”

You snort. “And then tomorrow you’ll say ‘tomorrow never comes’.” If it were happening to someone else, you’d never let them live down how quickly their husband’s head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute.

Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Great, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,” he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again.

Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each other’s plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyone’s obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover.

And you’re right, because right after he’s done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. You’re a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers.

As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband.

But when you open the door, he’s already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks — sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He must’ve gone straight from the shower to his desk.

After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters.

“Hey!” he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. “I was waiting for you.”

“Clearly,” you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking “did I interrupt something?”

“No,” he assures you. “I got everything important down. You were right on time.” His fingers are drumming on your thigh like there’s still something on his mind, but you’re feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.

“Apparently, I was late.” His hair is cold when you ruffle it. “Let me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, can’t get sick.”

Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldn’t think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didn’t even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.

There’s still a restlessness about him when you’re done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him – hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.

There’s a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. “Come here,” he says softly. “I missed you.”

In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. “Oof,” you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.

“Dummy,” he teases. “Not even safe in a cushy hotel room.” You kick at his shin.

“Quit giving me bedroom eyes then.” You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. “Yes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.”

He moves your hand away, unimpressed. “It is a funny joke,” he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if he’d said it, you would’ve laughed. You’re down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.

Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself.

Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything you’re thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. “I love you,” he murmurs, and he kisses you.

Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate.

This isn’t a kiss just because, or goodnight or I’ll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.

You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so he’s over you, braced on his forearm. It’s urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat.

He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like it’s an hour.

When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize – it’s been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder you’re so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth.

He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.

He pulls away again with a low chuckle. “I’ve been neglecting you, my love,” he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.

“You’ve been such a good wife,” he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. “Shh, let your husband take care of you.”

He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Yoongi,” you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know he’s going to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s been so long since you’ve felt properly like his. “Smell so sweet,” he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You moan, sensitive from his touch. “You’re –” he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. “You’re unusually talkative tonight.”

He smiles up at you. “You like it,” he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what he’s going to do to you.

You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. “Your fucking tongue,” you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.

“Taste fucking perfect,” his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him.

Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. “Need to see you, jagi.” He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you – fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yoongi, please,” you choke. It’s getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. You’re so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.

“Pretty, pretty,” he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someone’s set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.

“Ahhh-hhhh,” you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like he’d just set a firecracker off inside of you – buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth.

He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. It’s so, so wet you’re sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. “Careful, baby,” he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. “Watch me.”

You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though you’re barely there, like he’s just using this to get himself off – except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows – shit shit it’s almost too much already.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you plead breathily, not even sure what you’re asking for. He’s already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places he’s touching you – big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. He’d taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. “I need – I nee –” you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.

“Don’t worry, love,” he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. “I know what my girl needs.” On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way he’s pressing you into the mattress

You’d teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. “Tongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where you’re not bragging about how good you eat pussy?” He’d only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didn’t.

Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast he’s pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene.

“Another?” he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low it’s become. You nod frantically, knowing you’re close.

When he adds his ring finger, you know you’re done for. There’s a searing heat all down your body — your belly’s tight, your feet digging into Yoongi’s back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. It’s building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips —

“That’s it, fuck, baby,” he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way you’re gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.

“N’more,” you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way you’ve drenched him.

He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. “Pussy monster,” you sigh deliriously.

He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more.

Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver.

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, down…

“Warm me up,” you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further.

“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. It’s evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist.

You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. You’re still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. “Baby,” you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. “Need it,” you whisper into his mouth. “How do you want me?”

Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. “How does my sweet girl want it?”

You flush even warmer. “Like this,” you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.

Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes – he’s already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. “The abs are new. I like them.” Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. “You’re in for it now.”

“Then fucking give it to me.”

He kisses you again, and he’s just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way he’s pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks – slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, he’d work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in.

Unfortunately for him, you’re worked up enough. He’s grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you haven’t had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since you’d met is driving you insane.

“Take off your fucking pants, Yoongi,” you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. “If you don’t fuck me right now –”

He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.

He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but it’s gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.

“So wet,” he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and there’s only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and – “Fuck.”

“Yoongi!” you cry out. His fingers hadn’t done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. “Oh –”

“I must be out of my fucking mind,” he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think you’re going to lose your mind. “How did I go without this for so long?”

He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. “Y-Yoon – “ you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point.

“My gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy — shit.” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you can’t think of anything but the way he’s filling you so good. The way you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

You’re blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing the tears away. He’s still going, deeper now instead of fast. “Can you give me one more, love?”

You’re dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. “Yeah,” you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in.

Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you.

“Shit, shit,” Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. He’s close. “Love you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,” his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and it’s enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. “Yoongi!”

“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “Squeeze me just like that,” and he’s coming too.

You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where you’re touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But you’re content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear.

“Should’ve used a condom,” you say hoarsely. There’s going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it.

“Fucking raw used to be so hot,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. “Now it’s a chore.”

Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips.

“Reel it in.” You boop his nose and he scrunches it. “I really cannot go another round. You’re gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongi’s in.

He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face.

By the time you’ve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you don’t worry about the mess you’ve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away.

He’s soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles. You don’t have to ask him what he means.

You laugh softly. “Silly,” you say, drifting off.

#yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #min yoongi imagine

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ghostlychief · 1 year

Note

Hi, your articles about Simon ghost are interesting. Can I also make a request, please? How does he react to a reader with a big dog? The dog is very protective and affectionate towards the reader. and the dog's eyes are different colors. I will send you a photo of the dog.

HELLO!! First of all, thank you for reading my Ghost fics, that means so much <3 Secondly, i love this request because one, i love dogs, and TWOOO i love big big dogs. I hope you enjoy what i threw together, and take care <3

That Makes Two of Us

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader (can read as fem, gn, or male really)

wc: 900+

warnings: none

A/N: I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes lol pls forgive me

You can’t remember a time when you didn’t have a dog. Growing up, you were always surrounded by dogs, and had one by the time you were age five. Later, in your early teenage years, your family got another one. Needless to say, it wasn’t a surprise when you bought a dog of your own, after you graduated and got a full-time job.

When you saw your new puppy for the first time, she was already perfect in your eyes. She had mismatched eyes- one blue and one brown. Her fur was as dark as a raven’s feather, and shiny too. You decided to name her Daphne, after a character from one of your favorite TV shows.

You could already tell she was going to be a big dog, just by the size of her paws when she was a puppy. And your assumption was right, because she turned out to be about 65 pounds, paws almost as big as your palm.

You guys became two peas in a pod, and you trained her well. She was smart, loyal and very affectionate with you. It’s all you ever could have wanted in a dog, a companion.

While Daphne was lovey and affectionate towards you, her loyalty showed when she met strangers. She was mostly weary with men she didn’t know. Sure, your dad and close guy friends were no issue for her, she trusted them and therefore she trusted them around you.

However, newer men she didn’t recognize the scent of, or strangers on the sidewalk (strange men), she immediately became alert, ready to do anything for you, anything to protect you. This personality trait of hers was always difficult when in came to dating. Because more often than not, your fling with a guy didn’t last long. It was a cycle of introducing Daphne to a new man, which took her some time to getting used to, to that man completely disappearing from your life, all for it to start again.

It wasn’t until you met Simon aka “Ghost” for things to level out, be “steady” so to say. You and Simon have been dating for about three and a half months at this point. You both went on countless dinner dates, occasionally got drinks, and enjoyed the city where you both lived. All which required him not to see Daphne, or meet her, nonetheless. Sure, you showed him pictures of your baby, and babbled on about her when you guys hung out, but he hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting her.

You decided that after the fourth failed fling/thing with a guy, you would wait until you were seeing a guy for about 4-5 months until you introduced them to your dog. Not wanting to continue to confuse her, by having her meet strangers, and people that wouldn’t be in your life for a long time.

With Simon though, you guys instantly hit it off. He was a little bit quirky, with a dry sense of humor that matched your sarcasm. He was fun to be around and brought out a side of you, you haven’t seen in quite a long time. You were happy, and you trusted him. You only wished that Daphne would trust him as much, because deep-deep down in the pits of your heart, you were starting to fall in love with Simon.

It was after you guys went to dinner one night, that you brought Simon over to your place for the first time. You were a little bit nervous. One, because you were bringing home a devastatingly handsome and tall man, and two, because you weren’t sure how Daphne would react.

You quietly unlocked your door and ushered Simon inside. After you turned on the lights, you could hear Daphne’s paws patter on your floor, signaling to you that she woke up, and was coming to greet you. Though, when she saw Simon standing next to you, she instantly stopped in her tracks, and quirked her head to the side, her ears perked. Not expecting a guest to be with you.

She immediately started barking, her low, powerful bark resonating off the walls of your home.

“I take it she doesn’t like strangers?” Simon remains next to you, but doesn’t show any signs that he’s afraid of your giant black dog barking four feet away from him.

“Well…she’s a little protective of me.” You turn to look at Simon, with a sheepish smile on your pretty face.

“That makes two of us, then.” You try not to let Simon’s deep voice and confession get to you too much, but it’s hard and you find your cheeks warming.

You just laugh at his statement, and make your ways towards Daphne, to try and console her. Once you’ve got her calmed down, you usher Simon over.

“Ok, just approach her on the side, but don’t turn towards her, keep your body perpendicular to hers. And stick your hand out for her to sniff. This will let her know that you’re no threat.”

He does just that, and effortlessly, which you’re not surprised about. You’re certain he’s often around military trained dogs due to his job.

Daphne reluctantly sniffs Simon’s hand, but you can tell he won her over because she starts to lick him, and then lets him pet her on the head. Her tail starts to wag vigorously, and now her barks are lighter, more playful as she greets your new friend.

With a smirk coating his lips, Simon asks her, “See, I’m not too bad, am I?”

Hope you enjoyed!

masterlist

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evans-heaven · 2 years

Text

pretzels ; eddie munson

Writing and posting a fic for the first time in years bc this post about Eddie and his pretzels decided to moderately blow up. Pls note this quickly went from a fic about eating pretzels to a full blown rewrite of the cafeteria scene BUT I hope you enjoy ;)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n or physical descriptions)

Warnings: Like two swear words, disgusting fluff, Eddie being soft only for his gf, said gf being a sucker for her bf, suggestiveness at the end bc why tf not

“The devil...has come....to America,”

You popped a pretzel into your mouth. It was lunchtime at Hawkins High, and you sat at the Hellfire Club table in your designated seat next to your boyfriend, Eddie. You were listening to him being his theatrical self while reading some bullshit article in Newsweek about Dungeons and Dragons.

“Studies have linked the game to violent behavior, satanic worship, ritual sacrifice....”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Did you play the game? No. Have you sat in on many Hellfire Club meetings simply because you loved your boyfriend and wanted to have at least some knowledge of one of the few things that made him happy? Absolutely. So, with that fact in mind, you were offended on his behalf by this article that was doing entirely too much.

You found some comfort, however, in admiring him as he continued reading. Dramatics aside, your man was just so damn handsome. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had literal hearts in your eyes as you rested your chin in your palm like a Disney Princess and got lost in his features, features you knew like the back of your hand and yet couldn’t get enough of.

What got you the most? His eyes. They were so big, brown, and expressive. You loved them the most when they gazed upon you in so much admiration it made your entire body tingle. But, you liked the excitement in them when he got fired up, much like at this moment, as well.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Eddie slamming the magazine down. “....and even...MURDER!” he widened those doe eyes and stuck his tongue out for good measure, finishing his little show.

“Society has to blame something, and we’re an easy target,” was said as Dustin and Mike, the younger members of the Hellfire Club, sat at the table.

“Exactly,” Eddie agreed, his arms folded. “We’re an easy target, because we like to play a fantasy game,” he said, and despite the theatrics from him a mere minute ago, it was obvious he was annoyed, and maybe even little hurt.

Jumping into girlfriend mode, you grabbed his forearm, unfolding his arms, and sliding your hand down to tangle it with his. He visibly softened almost instantly, and rested his gaze on you as you smile gently at him. He kissed the back of your hand in gratitude.

The tender moment, however, was short lived as he softly pulled away. He rested his palms on the table harshly. “BUT!” He shot up, and, before you could stop him, climbed onto the table. “As long as you’re into band, or science, or....parties...” he surveyed the cafeteria from his heightened spot on the table, saying the last interest mockingly with a look of disgust (you just knew, even if you couldn’t see him).

“OR A GAME WHERE YOU TOSS BALLS INTO LAUNDREY BASKETS,” Eddie jeered loudly, directly to the basketball team, hands cupped over his mouth, because standing on the table wasn’t drawing enough attention. And yet, you couldn’t help but giggle at his antics.

When you dated someone like Eddie Munson, there was no such thing as ‘small’ or ‘subtle’. Despite your more lowkey and reserved nature, you loved how eccentric he was, because it was just his authentic self. He wasn’t trying to act cool like all the other kids at Hawkins High, he knew he stood out and he embraced it, and so did you.

Plus, those basketball playing douchebags deserved to be knocked down a peg, anyway.

“You want something, freak?” the captain, Jason, countered, as though he was in any way intimidating. To people who cared about status in a fucking high school, maybe, but not to Eddie, who simply made a taunting face at him.

“Its forced conformity,” he said as he walked back down the table like it was a damn runway. “Its what’s KILLING THE KIDS,” his voice grew as he hopped down and startled someone, yelling right in her face. You were surprised the contents of her tray didn’t go flying. Then, ever the (somewhat) gentleman, Eddie gestured for two cheerleaders to pass by him.

“That’s the real monster,” he concluded, sitting back down for a rare moment of calm.

Shaking your head, you clapped lightly to humor him, a smirk tugging at your lips as he looked to you, smiling back. Because you felt especially playful, you took a pretzel from his plastic bag and held it up to his mouth, almost like a reward. He grinned devilishly (no pun intended), and encased his entire mouth around your finger tips, as he took the pretzel from them, pulling away with an exaggerated smacking sound, because he’s Eddie Munson and he’s dramatic.

“Ugh,” you whined jokingly, wiping your damp fingers on his shirt. He batted your hand away lightly before dragging your chair closer so he could rest his arm on the back of it. You leaned into his side and continued feeding him, popping some in your mouth in between. He, of course, did the absolute most when taking them from you, nipping at your fingers constantly and not giving a damn about the blatant PDA in front of his club.

You were teasing Eddie by pulling the pretzel away a little bit before he could take it when the curly haired freshman, Dustin, spoke up. “So, speaking of monsters, Lucas has to do his, uh, balls in laundry baskets game,” he began, chuckling nervously.

Eddie listened to Dustin as he kept his gaze on you while you continued popping pieces into his mouth. This wasn’t really your concern so you had no qualms continuing the lovey-dovey shit. You almost thought you belonged at the ‘popular’ table since you swore you saw an ‘it’ couple doing this exact same thing once.

“So he’s not gonna be able to make it to hellfire,” Dustin’s next sentence got Eddie’s attention as he straightened slightly and turned to face him. Uh oh.

Before Dustin could finish stuttering his way through what he obviously wanted to offer as a solution, Mike cut him off. “POSTPONE!” he finished exasperatedly, and the protests began, because postponing? Hellfire club? Were they serious?

“SHUT UP!” Eddie barked over the chaos, and the table went quiet. You subtly bit your lip at the small show of power and you didn’t think anyone would blame you.

“You’re saying Sinclair’s been taken in by the dark side?” Eddie clarified as he sat forward, his arm moving from the back of your chair to the table, and you pouted.

“Uh, something like that-”

“Something like that?” Eddie mocked, chucking a pretzel in the boys’ direction. “And rather than find a sub for him,” he proposed like it was obvious, “You want...you want to postpone. The cult. Of Vecna?”

As Mike began with the excuses, Eddie shot up, again, and you knew where this was headed.

“It’s just that, y’know, most of the subs will be at the championship game,” Mike reasoned, but Eddie was having none of it.

“Oh, its the championship game?” he asked tauntingly, then enquired, “Can I level with you?” he began to make his way down the right side of the table, brushing his hand against my neck lightly as he passed. “Jeff graduates this year, Garett’s got, what, a year and a half?” he said, then gestured to himself. “Me, I am army crawling my way toward a D in Miss O’Donnell’s. If I don’t blow her final, I’m gonna walk that stage next month,” he began prancing slightly, and you looked on in amusement, even if you felt sad for him having to endure a final year in this hellhole multiple times.

“I’m gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I’m gonna flip him the bird,” he gritted as he held up a middle finger to no one in particular, then clenched his other hand in a fist. You couldn't help but admire the bulky silver rings adorning his fingers, they had no reason to look so damn good there. “I’m gonna snatch that diploma, and then me and my girl are gonna run like hell outta here,” he began running in the direction of the exit, adding action to his words to get it to sink in for the club even more. You blushed when he mentioned you two leaving together. He always talked about getting out of Hawkins with you, as there wasn’t really anything keeping him here.

“Didn’t you say that last year?” Jeff spoke up.

“And the year before?” Garret added.

“Yeah, and I was full of shit!” Eddie defended, walking back. “This year, is my year,” he gave the cafeteria a once over, before looking at you and smiling. “Our year,” he corrected. “‘86, baby,” he promised, eyes still on you, soft as ever.

You’d applied for multiple colleges out of state, letting fate (and pretty decent grades) decide where you would end up. You loved your boyfriend, but you were not putting your education aside for anyone. With that in mind, as well as how “hard” he was working for that barely passing grade, you prayed he really wasn’t full of shit this time. Maybe the two of you being side by side at graduation wasn’t gonna be a crazy dream anymore.

“You know what that means?” he asked Dustin and Mike, coming up behind them and laying heavy hands on their shoulders. “It means you boys, are the future of hellfire,” he said. “I knew it the moment I saw you, sat on that table right over there,” he pointed ahead, still keeping an arm on Mike’s shoulder. “Remember, baby?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“Looking like two little lost sheep,” you grinned, thinking back to when you first saw the two boys, just as awkward looking as they are now.

“You were wearing a Weird Al T-Shirt,” he said to Dustin, then turned to Mike. “You were wearing whatever shit your mommy got you,”

“From the goddamn Gap,” you added in, enjoying this. You were willing to admit that Eddie sizing these kids up was, for some reason, entertaining.

He pointed at you in agreement, chuckling, and everyone started laughing, including the two boys. The funny moment didn’t last, however, as Eddie switched it up on them real quick and yanked them up by their collars, effectively ending any amusement they felt as they became visibly tense.

You heard him begin to explain to them that the Hellfire Club gave them a decent high school experience and that there were other little ‘lost sheepies’ who needed that same assistance, then gently advised that they ‘get their Bo-Peeps on’, and go find one, before shoving them away from the table with a new task in their hands.

Eddie relaxed, then made his way back to his seat, placing his arm back in its original spot on the back of your chair.

“You think they’ll find someone?” Garett asked.

“They better,” Eddie mumbled. Accepting that, Garett shrugged and entered a conversation with the other members of the club. “Now, where were we?” Eddie asked you, then opened his mouth expectantly, sticking his tongue out.

You rolled your eyes and giggled, picking up a pretzel and placing it on his waiting tongue. “You know, you should consider eating some real lunch, Ed,” you chastised lightly. “Snacks and weed isn’t really a proper diet,”

His eyes darkened, and he smirked. “Well then,” he mumbled, and brought his head closer to yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I know exactly what I want to eat,”

And with that, it was your turn to shoot up from your seat as you grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the cafeteria, not even caring about the implications.

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

Nothing like the latest cute white boy from a Netflix show to suddenly make you wanna write again. Hope the Eddie girlies enjoyed💕

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson writing #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader

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corpsepng · 9 months

Note

Pls make a list of books you recommend to aspiring writers<3

Ok. Aspiring/burgeoning writer starter kit:

In writing anything you officially become a writer so that’s step one haha, no need to aspire too much. BUT. I’m going to soapbox for a bit using this ask as an excuse love u kissing u etc. So. This will barely be about books, but sort of the recipe of what I (personally and subjectively) think will help anyone who wants to grow their craft. (I know because I've been writing seriously for 14 years)

The act of writing is the best practice you can get but having a well from which to draw on creatively and skill wise in order to DO that practice is the trickier part. And sometimes we can be found lacking because we’re either NOT refilling that well enough, consciously enough, or only with the same sorts of things so it gets stagnant. This is a long one so I’ll shove it under the cut haha.

The recipe:

Study craft

Broaden horizons

Diversify consumption

Consume with intention

Apply with reference

1) Study craft: this is the easiest to make sense of, right? I want to get good at writing so I read books about writing yada yada. Whatever you’re writing, it’s made up of a lot of moving parts, and you can dedicate time studying EACH PART, but figure out what you have the least experience with, or the most difficulty with, and start there. Also, before I go on to preach about why you shouldn’t solely stake your growth on some dusty old books, here’s some dusty old books I recommend:

The Elements of Style (strunk/white/kalman) (really quick and abbreviated advice, read every bit of this but remember: rules are important to know so you can decide which are worth following and which are in need of breaking for the pursuit of your goals. And nobodies perfect, or editors wouldn’t have a job)

Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott) (excellent work about fostering a process, important for everyone who finds themselves a little lost on how to just. Start)

Wonderbook (Jeff Vandermeer) (I haven’t read this one but knowing Vandermeers work this is on my TBR and I KNOW it’s going to be enlightening)

How to Read Literature like a Professor (Thomas C. Foster) (perfect for those who can see others stories working but unsure how to make their own work, I personally didn’t read much of this one but this will help people to more critically engage with what they’re consuming)

Save the Cat Writes a Novel/Joseph Campbells Hero’s Journey/On Writing and Worldbuilding/etc (all of these are on structure and craft in a concrete sense), I would recommend either choose one OR getting the abbreviated/digestible versions through YouTube because a lot of these can repeat themselves. I’m working on a playlist of writing craft/structure videos that I found helpful, so keep an eye out for that)

So. Studying craft should be a multidisciplinary process. Articles online, videos on niche media, books on craft or copying things from your favorites, looking for yourself in the movies you watch or fiction you read. Punctuation, prose, structure, rhetoric, character, world building, pacing, etc. Unfortunately, no matter how seasoned you become as a writer, you will always be learning new things about the craft itself.

It should be fun and I honestly feel like an enlightened little scientist when I see something that really cracks the open the magic for me (ex: scenes that serve more than one purpose are OF COURSE going to be more engaging that scenes with only one purpose- duh) (of COURSE magic systems should have a cost) (of COURSE the characters cant always win OR always lose)

2) Broaden horizons: consuming fiction and studying it is key to knowing how to reproduce it. We start with the training wheels of imitation before we ride away full speed into truly unique original storytelling. But the most impactful and thought-provoking stories are more than just fiction, so you need to know more than stories. Science, history, art, craft, math, music, cooking, psychology, religion, whatever!

Everyone always parrots “write what you know”, but what you KNOW can expand to influence what you write- so keep learning new things all the time and for fun, because you never know what could help your story. Your knowledge is not limited to experience alone, and research is your best friend. ASOIAF was so loved because George RR Martin loved not only fantasy, but British history. The Folk of the Air series is so loved because Holly Blacks special interest is faeries.

Note: this does not mean the study of OTHER PEOPLES trauma and experiences in an appropriative way, rather, become worldly. Because sure, knowing what a gunshot feels like adds realism, but I don’t care about realism if I don’t care about your characters or world. Science fiction is the best example of this: so many of those stories stick with us generationally because they’re pointing a lens back at humanity, asking big philosophical questions with science, which is something that touches us all.

But it doesn’t even need to be Big and Thematic like that. My dear friend @chaylattes has a project where she’s applied her love of plants to the world building AND plot, and has INVENTED whole plant species that enriched their work with something so exclusively Chay. No one else could write Andromeda Rogue because Chay, with specific interests and knowledge, put that specificity into the story.

3) Diversify consumption: surrounding yourself with more of the same means you’re going to regurgitate the same, derivatively. To be a hater for a moment: I can tell within the first chapter if someone only reads/watches one kind of media (m*rvel, fairy smut, grim dark nonsense, etc), and it’s distracting. When I read that derivative work, I’m not thinking about THEIR story. All I can think of is the people who did it first, and better.

Alternatively, the best work draws on the unexpected. Fantasy work taking notes from horror, science fiction including humanistic romance, romance with elements of mystery. RF Kuangs work feels so smart because she’s literally a PHD candidate who’s reading of academic writing. Cassandra Clares work is so interpersonally messy and hard to look away from because she watches a lot of reality television.

Genre is less a set of cages to lock yourself inside of and more so the sections of a great big fictional playground- and you need to start playing. Rules, again, are guidelines that can be bent for the sake of your stories. I predominantly write scifi/fantasy/horror but some of my favorite stuff is literary fiction, historical nonfiction, thrillers, and poetry.

And if you can’t bring yourself to read different genres, it takes significantly less effort to WATCH different genres. Television and film are stories too, and can absolutely be learned from.

4) Consume with intention: this is easier said than done. I, embarrassingly, admit that I did not have any reading comprehension skills until I was at least 19. I was consuming, but I wasn’t thinking a damn critical thought, just spitting it back out in a way that sounded smart.

Critical thinking skills (I say, on the website that historically lacks such a thing) are a muscle that needs to be exercised just as often as your writing muscle. Reading new work, studying craft, learning new shit- none of it matters if you can’t APPLY it all to a story. One can take a clock apart to learn how exactly it ticks, but it won't tell time like a watch until you put it back together.

The key is asking questions, all of the time about everything. That whole “why the curtains were blue” nonsense comes to mind, but if you want to be a good writer, (edit: a writer that cares about whether or not their work is vapid imitation of better work) learning to ask WHY the curtains are blue really does matters.

Ask why in ALL stories you consume, including your own. Why do Ghibli films make me feel calm? (Motifs of undisturbed nature, low stakes plots and quiet scenes of reprieve between action, characters that care about one another and aren’t afraid to show it) Why do I fly through a Gillian Flynn novel but take 8,000 years to read other books? (Concise descriptions, realistic but evocative premise, witty voice, contained and fast paced plot, an abundance of questions driving the mystery leading up to a satisfying crash of answers at the end) Why were the curtains blue, the coffee cup chipped, and the lipstick stain on the rim red instead of purple or pink? And why did the colors matter at all when the scene is about a father at a kitchen table? (You tell me!) Answers may vary.

You can put the work into learning the answer at the source (ie: listening to authors talk about their own work), or through the external interpretations of a critic (proceed with caution here), sure. These are even good when learning HOW to think critically if you don’t even know where to start. But your growth as a writer depends on your ability to answer your OWN questions.

(Why do I feel tense in this scene? Is it because the character says they’re sweating and struggling to breathe? Is it because I’ve been told the monsters close? Is it because the sentences are getting shorter and the author keeps repeating descriptions of that monsters massive bloody teeth coming closer? Or is it because I know the gun in her hands has no bullets because another character already tried what she’s about to try?)

(Why do I feel sad in this scene? Is it because the characters mom just died? Is it because the character can’t even verbalize that sadness to others? Is it because none of the other characters seem to care enough to ask? Is it because of the wilted flowers in the corner? Or is it because there are daisies in the bouquet, and those were the moms favorite?)

I can nod and smile at 1000 opinions about “why X did Y and the end of Z” or “why X is Y and not Z” but how I felt when I consume something, how I was affected and how it made ME PERSONALLY answer my critical questions, that’s what’s important. That’s how we manufacture gay subtext in everything, because sometimes gay is a feeling as opposed to a fact.

Also, if those subjective answers are inconsistent among readers/viewers, the writer likely had their own intentions a little muddled. So, and I know I’m getting tangential but stay with me: romance. You know how you’re supposed to feel happy or convinced that the people falling in love are like, in love? And want to put yourself in that position or whatever? I CANNOT consume most romance media because it all comes off as categorically terrifying to me. I ask myself why the characters are doing what they do, reacting the way they react, saying way they say, and none of it feels romantic. I want to file a restraining order, and that’s the failing of the author, who did not make enough conscious choices in their work and accidentally created horror while writing their color by numbers trope slop of a “romance” novel.

5) Apply with reference: is like taking all your ingredients and finally cooking. You want people to notice and respect when you add certain literary devices, descriptions, character choices, but not to the detriment of your work. Shows like stranger things are popular but divisive because their intertextuality and reliance on nostalgia bolster an otherwise unoriginal idea. They weren’t trying to reinvent the wheel, they were writing a love letter to Stephen Spielberg, and are riding that wave into the ground. But the fairy dick renaissance doesn’t feel nearly as palatable as season one of stranger things did because a lot of times they aren’t using the ingredients in their own way, rather, following the recipe to a T and selling it as new. Food really is the perfect metaphor and sorry in advance because I’m really going to run with it here lol.

When I eat a meal, first of all I know I'm eating food, so don't try and trick me into thinking otherwise or I'll only get annoyed. I want to be able to taste all of what’s in front of me, spice, salt, sweet, bitter, etc and know what what you said you've fed me is really actually truly what I've eaten. One ingredient, or writing choice, shouldn’t overpower another, or surprise me so much I can’t take another bite. I shouldn’t try something you call “sauced and baked yeast patty garnished with fermented milk and smoked meat” and think “this shits pizza” because you didn’t even try to jazz it up more than what the instructions on the digiorno box said. I also shouldn’t bite into something you call a pizza and only taste bread because you really like bread and forgot that a pizza is more than just bread.

But inversely, avoiding all ingredients gets you weird, nary inedible shit like charred milk reduction with lamb mist or whatever. Show me you have knowledge in your genre by referencing it AND remixing it, show me that you studied craft by foreshadowing properly or pacing well, show me you’re more than an AI writerbot by deepening your work with your unique and human influence, show me you read broadly by adding surprising ingredients, and show me that you mean every word you write because you made the curtains blue instead of yellow, and topped your pizza with pepperoni instead of pineapple.

Congrats on making it all the way through my rambling, hope I made sense and that this helped!

#mail.txt #writeblr #writerblr #writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing help #anon

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yxlenas · 11 days

Note

Bishova is such a funny ship name imo, 'cause "fag" in portuguese is "bicha" so whenever I read "bishova" inside my head, it reminds me of "bichona" (aka "big fag" in portuguese) lmaooo

Anyways. Pls feel free to share some of your bishova headcanons (even though I don't even go here lol). I kinda see the ~vision~ from that one scene w/ them that I saw (yeah, I'm gay and weak, sue me)

I HATE the ship name soooo much lmao I was on the ground floor of the ship (Like, pre-hawkeye, using their interactions in the Thompson BW run for inspo) and I was gunning for it to be Katelena but I was 100% outvoted.

I'm gonna give you a couple SFW ones and then a couple NSFW ones because I WILL make you a Marvel girlie if it takes the rest of our tumblr lives

Yelena has some food issues (food insecurity/aversions, trouble acknowledging her fullness cues) and Kate is the one who helps her figure out how to treat those. One thing they do is that when they go out to eat, Kate boxes up half of Yelena's entree for her when it comes to the table so Yelena doesn't eat herself sick.

They're both neurodivergent-Yelena was an excellent assassin but in the MCU there's little to no suggestion that she ever did honeypot missions and I think it's because her social cues aren't great. Kate absolutely has hyperactive ADHD.

I think Yelena enjoys being read aloud to. She finds it soothing. Kate will read news articles and books and shit out loud to Yelena with Yelena's head in her lap.

They are both obviously dog people but Yelena is *obsessed* with Bucky's cat Alpine and will wander around with Alpine tucked in her hoodie. Alpine does not like Kate. Kate will MAKE Alpine like her if it's the last thing she does.

Antonia Dreykov is not much of a Kate fan at first. She finds Kate soft, loud, overly dramatic, and painfully naive. Then Yelena almost dies on Antonia's watch, and Kate steps up in a very serious, real way. That wins Antonia over to the Kate side.

NSFW

Yelena's the bottom. I love bottom Yelena. She's a spoiled, bratty sugar baby pillow princess and Kate is OBSESSED with the power trip it gives her to see Yelena like that.

Tbh I'm not into asexual Yelena and less and less inclined to even discuss it but I DO think Yelena has hangups and triggers around sex. The girls take the physical intimacy part of their relationship at a GLACIAL pace, and there are times where something Kate says or does ends in a meltdown or panic attack for Yelena. It makes Kate feel very guilty. Yelena makes jokes about it, which does not provide the levity that she THINKS they do.

Kate doesn't really like to wear pants much, especially in their room/their own apartment once Yelena is secure enough to live with just Kate (I think for a while Yelena lives with Bucky and thus Sam, and Kate ends up there too-Yelena gets anxious alone and needs to learn to person). Yelena regularly grabs her ass and squeezes before BOLTING to trick Kate into chasing her and throwing her on the bed.

#Katelena #Kate Bishop #Yelena Belova #Yelena Belova Headcanons #Bishova #bishlova #kate x yelena

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starxiasstuff · 1 year

Text

How some of the bonten members would react to your period.

(💀the amount of pain some of us feel is just omg)

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Ran Haitani

He would have a basic understanding of it

Unaware of cramps/mood swings and that sorta shit so he would def be taken aback if you winced in pain.

Would tease you but would stop if you're visibly pissed or hurt

Would try his best in getting you the right sort of pads

Will buy you whatever you want "wah, that bag is super cute! " Next thing you know Ran bought it.

Gives you massages

Overall his care is a 9.5 on 10 the teasing made him lose the .5

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Rindou Haitani

PLS he literally knows nothing about periods, he just found you sleeping and happened to see a stain, he lowkey thought you got shot on your ass and freaked out

He is a pretty fast learner so after reading up on some articles about it he would go to the store and buy every single pad/snack available

Would spoil you but not come near you, he's liked kinda grossed outtt idk the idea of bleeding out of your 🐱 for almost 24/7 doesn't sit right with him

He would be a bitch and ask you to sleep in the guest bedroom, but he would end up sleeping on the couch.

"Rin can i get a hug pleaseeeeee" "EWW no way in hell am I comin' near you and your bleeding🐱"

Overall he's a solid 7 on 10, the distancing makes you feel like shit and he doesn't even make up properly just buys you stuff and awkwardly tries to make up for the shitty week your body and he caused.

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Mikey

Pretty experienced because of Emma

Keeps a track of your cycle

Shares his food (which is a stretch even for his "emo" Self)

Butterfly kisses on your stomach

He would take a day off and put either Kakucho Or Kokonoi incharge (no way in hell is he letting Sanzu take over for a full 24 hours)

Thinks a lot before he speaks to you during the week, he is so scared of saying smth that might hurt you in anyway

Personal heatpack <3

10/10 he is literally the sweetest during this time <333333

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Might update later.

UPDATED

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Kakucho Hitto

Contrary to popular belief of him being "husband" Material, I think he would be flustered to talk about it.

"Oh.. You're uh on your.. *cough* monthly cycle... UHH" Poor dude would be confused af and would be super worried if your cramps are bad

He'd come back early frm Bonten hq in an attempt to take care of you, but freak out as soon as he had laid eyes on a stain.

He would properly make it up to you for freaking out about it (unlike someone 😒)

Would cuddle you from behind and rub gentle circles on your back

Same as Ran 9.5 on 10, he lost the

.5 at being awkward, it put you on edge.

__________________________________

Sanzu Haruchiyo

Manz doesn't know what it is and won't care to learn about it, all he needs is a nutshell explanation and BOOM he literally runs faster then Sonic to the supermarket and buys you everything you could ever need

Would take the whole week off just to stay with you

Movies and binge watching cringy rom-cons are a must

Asks you if you can still do the deed

If your cramps are bad in the morning he'll carry you downstairs bridal style throw you on the couch and gets you your favorite instant noodles

Would take a hot bath with you without being disgusted by the sight of your blood

Overall solid 10, he is super ooc here because I refuse to see all his red flags 😌

(**AN, I WILL BE ADDING KOKO ASWELL AS TAKEOMI LATER**)

Hhhgnudvjfvjfc I'm back like I promised, I'll be ending it with koko and takeomi, I'm sorry i just can't write shit for mochi😔

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Kokonoi Hajime

He honestly could care less, but he loves you and hates seeing you in pain

He will def spoil you like crazy, slides you his phone from across the table and asks you which piece of clothes you like better

Buys you some of the best meds, manz hates it when you say you don't need the meds but are literally glued to the bed cause of cramps

After a really bad period he would take you to a gynecologist to make sure everythings ok

Would take a day off to take care of you, but when he returns the whole hq is in literal shambles

Would make sure you have a really or atleast maybe relaxing week

(Fhcghv i low key love this man sm i have sm hcs just based on him)

If your back hurts he'll buy a whole new matress

10/10 no explanation needed

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Akaashi Takeomi (this is the literal first time I've ever wrote anything for him, probs the last time too idk he and mochi are hard to write for)

Would be experienced because of senju

Doesn't keep a track of your cycle but knows when it's near almost like a 6th sense

Cooks gourmet worthy food for you

Cuddles and what not

He asks you literally everything like "hey, would you like it if I went to work today? "

#remote working

Checks in on you a lot to make sure you're comfy and not in too much pain.

10/10 (smh rin better be taking notes)

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Bye bye luvs!! I'll post smth later

#Bonten×Reader #period comfort #ran haitani #rindou haitani #sano manjiro #ran haitani×reader #rindou haitani×reader #sano manjiro×readed #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu haruchiyo×reafer #Kakucho hitto #Kakucho hitto×reader

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frc-ambaradan · 1 year

Text

*THERE'S AN UPDATE TO THIS! PLS DO GO READ IT, it's important! Don Rosa clarifies the situation!!!*

We're still waiting to know more about this but... there's already a massive uproar going on in the italian Disney comics community right now.

You really want to keep your edition of "The Life and Times" very dear, fellow Disney comics and ducks fans...

"Don Rosa announced on his group that the famous Scrooge McDuck Saga will no longer be reprinted.

The Walt Disney Company, in fact, is reviewing its library of stories due to the company's constant commitment to diversity and inclusion and has communicated to the author that the last two chapters of the Saga will no longer be included in any collection.

According to Don Rosa it makes no sense to publish the saga without its final chapters, so there will be no other publications of the same for the future."

All main italian Disney comics sites and blogs has been reporting the news, including Papersera, Fumettologica and Ventenni Paperoni... and even national newspapers.

And here's the article from Cbr that started it all:

Here's the answer Don Rosa published on his Facebook group:

So Disney's taking down "The Richest Duck in the World" and "The Dream of a Lifetime" for "inclusiveness" issues 🤷🏽‍♀️

Don Rosa's right not wanting the full saga to be published anymore. You can't have the Life and Times without two chapters! Especially "The Richest Duck in the World"! That's nonsense! There's already been problems (at least in Italy) with "The Prisoner Of White Agony Creek", now this?

This is not to protect inclusiveness, this is to deprive the new generations of one of the greatest graphic novels ever written!

Before teaching people inclusiveness, maybe, we should have a talk about what "context" means... because I reckon to be a huge problem there in the first place when it comes to art and literature.

#i stand with don rosa #this is ridiculous #they never gave a s*** about comics #now they all of a sudden find out about them just to censor them?!#wth! ��#disney! what are you doing?!#don rosa #life and times of scrooge mcduck #scrooge mcduck #disney stop!!! pls!!!#disney ducks #disney comics

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midnightmoonkiss · 2 years

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Thinking about Kazuha.. (fluff)

Imagine playing with his hair ooooouuuuuu.. I bet its so soft and silky. He really likes it when you play with his hair, its so relaxing and puts his mind at ease.

I think his scalp is a bit sensitive, so you have to be gentle with his hair, but he loooves the feeling of your fingers carding through his loose locks, gently detangling any knot. Free serotonin.

He hums with every movement, small smile on his face, eyes blissfully closed shut as he just soaks in the attention.

Bonus points if you pull his hair back into his ponytail for him and give his head a little heart-melting kiss.

It’s all he’ll think about for the rest of the day, I swear.

Ah!

~Borrowing~ Kazu’s haori when its chilly, the fabric so very soft and comfy.. smelling just like him.

He probably smells like.. teakwood, lavender, morning dew, hint of pine.. coming ng, so very comforting.

He likes seeing you wear it, thinks you’re so adorable.. and that possessive part of him always feels oh-so very pleased.. it’s as if you’re showing off that you’re his and he’s yours - all with just an article of clothing.

He can’t help but be a bit possessive, maybe slightly yandere-ish.. it’s not overbearing or even slightly creepy like some people (Childe) !! He just won’t allow someone else to take you from him, not if he can help it.

And when Kazuha gets it back- it smells like you!! Thus creating the “The Scent Of Kazuha’s Haori” paradox (an inside joke between you and Ayaka).

If he wakes up before you do, firstly he enjoys gazing at you, observing the way the golden rays of morning’s first light caresses your skin.. how peaceful and elegant you look. Next, he enjoys wandering about, collecting a few flowers so that you can wake up to their scent and beauty - while he cuddles you, of course.

His kisses are so sweet and so full of passion and love, the samurai is such a romantic. He worships you.. in a subtle kind of way. Not over the top, but enough to make you feel like an Archon yourself.

Kazuha’s lips are cute.. kind of round, thinner top lip, always a sort of reddish color, and very soft. He works with wind, he’s gotta keep his lips moisturized!

Theyre soooo nice to kiss. And he enjoys kissing you often! Kiss him more pls hes a smooch-a-holic.

PDA isn’t too bad for him, he holds your hand, hugs you, presses kisses to your knuckles, cheek, temple, lips - all chaste but lovey-dovey. He saves the heavier stuff for moments where you two have privacy.

Pinky holding with Kazuha.. small blush on his cheeks from how cute it is and how cute you are to him.

Speaking of hands.. his hands would be calloused, the curse of sword users, but they’d still be a little bit soft and nice to hold!! (steal his gloves he will melt)

He likes it when you play with his fingers, something so small fills his heart with such immense love.

He’d do anything to keep that smile on your face, and he’d always protect you. You’re so dear to him.. just the thought of something happening to you.. it fills his chest with such unimaginable pain, so much so that he falls into a panic attack. Please help calm him down, assure him that you’re ok and that you’re here with him. He just needs you close.

He can hold his liquor fairly well, medium-weight drinker, indulging in some saki most nights. You don’t have to join him, but if you do.. drinks taste better with someone to drink with..!

Snuggling with him! He likes sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the door, a sort of barrier between you and a potential attacker. When sleeping together, he prefers being the big spoon.. just you cuddled into his chest, his chin tucked over your head, arms wrapped around each other.. his comfort place. Plus he can smell you shampoo hehe.

One of his ways of showing love is playfully nipping your neck. No idea why he likes doing it, maybe youre squeal amuses him or something.

Enjoys reading his poetry to you, having you guess the meaning behind each poem or haiku.

If you guess them right, he’s thrilled!

If you guess them wrong, he’s amused! You literally cannot upset him.

If you guess them so wrong that it doesnt even make sense anymore like how did you come up with that answer, you’ll get to hear his award winning laugh!!

Enjoys dipping his feet in cool water on hot days, playing music with his little instruments.

Give him something handmade and he will treasure it FOREVER. No one else can touch it, it’s his only!!

I love how the fandom has dubbed his word of endearment as “dove,” so he calls you ‘his dove.’ <3

He can be your bottle of maple syrup!! He will be displeased but still in love.

He’s so sweet and loyal.🍁💕 Will never look at anyone romantically other than you. If someone flirts or hits on him, he makes it known that he is taken. If they don’t stop, he blankly glares at them before walking away. xoxo Man ain’t in the market!!!!

He loves you so very much, you’re his everything.

#kazuhaa brainrot #idc hes slightly yandere #kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedehara x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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indulgentandidiotic · 1 year

Text

Riddle Rosehearts w/ an S/O Who’s Reluctant to Initiate Physical Affection

Warnings: formatted like a oneshot(?), cringe /hj GN Reader

Synopsis: When you're stupid and he's stupid and urgh you two make me so mad pls just kiss already oh my god COMMUNICATE *jumps off a cliff*

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Riddle. You loved him to the moon and back, but initiating physical contact just wasn’t a thing you did. It wasn’t something you were used to. So when you and Riddle started dating, nothing really changed.

Perhaps you’d give him a peck on the cheek or lips here and there, or you’d give him a pat on the shoulder before leaving Heartslabyul after teatime, but that was it. To the public, if they weren’t there to see those small instances of affection, it looked like you and Riddle were just good friends. And Riddle wasn’t very fond of that.

He too, wasn’t good at initiating physical affection, him being too shy–but he still craved your touch. He still wanted to appear as a couple to others. Though it was embarrassing to admit, he desired your arms around him in an embrace, your lips on his in a kiss, or your fingers intertwined.

After a month or so of no special affection from you, Riddle grew frustrated. Yes, it wasn’t like he was trying to initiate, either, but we don’t talk about that. It was silly, he thought, to think that you loved him less just because you weren’t showing your affection in ways typical of other couples. You still gave him your full attention. You still indulged him in his wishes. You still looked at him with all the love in your heart. But he wanted more.

And in your mind, you were still waiting (like a fool) for Riddle to give you explicit permission to touch him. After all, you weren’t the type of person who wanted to be poked and hugged and clung to all the time. You didn’t want to accidentally overstep Riddle’s boundaries, though you had a lot of love you wanted to give him. Oh Dear Seven please just communicate

Finally, Riddle had enough. He was dying inside, his desire to hold your hand for the first time ever burning like a fire inside him! But oh, ever as fragile as a flower, he was still so reluctant to take action. But he came up with a plan. Perhaps if you and he just went about on some date or outing, and he found a reason to hold your hand, he could ease into the action of it. Start with a practical reason, and end with normalizing the practice of holding your hand. Yes, how could this plan go wrong?

It went wrong.

You and Riddle had been strolling about on Heartslabyul grounds when Riddle found the most opportune moment to grab your hand.

“Oh? What’s this all about?” You had asked. Unbeknownst to him, your heart had jumped when he suddenly latched onto you.

Riddle had meant to say, “Well, I just wanted to hold your hand~" all suave, but the small smirk on your face (read: flustered grin) caused him to panic and backtrack, leading him to stutter out an, "Ah, the ground is uneven and I'm wearing heels! So I'm just holding onto you to keep balanced."

And unfortunately, his explanation led you to shake off his hand when the ground became stable.

Plan A had failed, but what about… *drumroll please* Plan B?!!

Plan B was a bit more convoluted, but still a promising route. For a week, Riddle read various articles on the psychology of love and desire, hoping that it would help him learn how to get what he wanted without communicating with you.

The conclusion of his research led to you two playing chess. Not at all out of the ordinary. When you played, you often took a while to think and moved your hand over the board slowly. Riddle was much the same. But this time, he moved quickly, often making moves right when you finished yours, causing your fingers to brush against each other. It happened multiple times, and you often caught a smug grin on Riddle’s face when it happened.

After a few games, Riddle moved on to the second phase of the plan–initiating more hand brushes inconspicuously. While walking together in the halls he’d tap a finger against your hand, and when studying together he’d make an effort to reach for the same book or turn the page at the same time. He even pooled together the courage to say, “Dear me, it’s like we can’t get enough of each other!” when your hands touched for the 108th time that week. And he did all this in the hopes that it would subliminally send you the message that he wanted you to hold his hand.

It didn’t work. You just thought it was a series of happenstances or things that didn’t mean much. Oh you, always the one who needed things spelled out.

But Riddle wasn’t going to give up. He had one more plan that was sure to make you understand what he wanted! He was willing to sacrifice his pride for this one he should be sacrificing his pride actually communicating with you It was fairly easy to enact this plan. Bugs were abundant in the Ramshackle dorm, and all Riddle had to do was play the role of a damsel in distress.

He pretends to be scared when a cockroach skitters across the floor, sidling up to you in hopes that perhaps you’d play the manly heroic act and be his knight in shining armor. Perhaps you’d put an arm around his waist and say something cheesy like, "I'll protect you!" But no.

Instead, you say, "Oh. A bug,” and you rush to throw it outside. No heroic acts like in the movies or romance novels. Riddle threw away his pride for nothing.

At this point, Riddle is out of ideas and fuming. A month of no special affection from you has turned into two, and Riddle is hurt. Yes, he was partially to blame. He didn’t communicate with you at all, but surely you must’ve noticed the hints he was dropping! Riddle feels that perhaps you don’t care as much as you say you do. Maybe he was wrong about you all along…

And all those thoughts and frustration ended with Riddle bursting into Ramshackle at 3am, sniffling with hot tears running down his face. He had not slept, and his hair was a mess from running through the wind. He’d been overthinking every action of yours all that week, wondering why you hadn’t been doing any couple-y things with him, and it all just came to a head.

Riddle spilled every single thought he’d had to you, while you stood concerned and groggy from being woken so suddenly. And as Riddle was going on a near-incoherent rant about how you hadn’t even hugged him once during your relationship nor shown him any special affection, you pulled him into your arms.

Had this discussion been at a time other than the middle of the night, you might’ve been a bit more reluctant when hugging Riddle. But, being that it was late and you were a bit dazed, you enveloped him in your arms and held him to your chest with abandon. Soon, his cries became soft stutters of breath, and your head cleared enough for you to lead him to your room and make space for him on the bed. You couldn’t have him walking all the way back to Heartslabyul at this hour, could you?

Riddle was a bit reluctant to sleep with you, but you convinced him. There was no way he’d be going back to Heartslabyul at this hour, especially not when you two needed to have a discussion in the morning.

As he lay in bed, he almost laughed at how silly this situation was. He’d been avoiding communicating with you because he was embarrassed, only to explode at you in the most embarrassing way possible. He almost wanted to cry a second time for how foolish he was. But as you drew him ever nearer to your heart and gave him a goodnight kiss on the top of his head, he thought that perhaps the outcome of this disaster wasn’t too bad.

Morning came all too soon, and Riddle found himself wishing he could hide in the rosebushes as you sat across from him at the Ramshackle dining table. He wondered what you thought about his silly little plans to get you to notice that he wanted attention.

You were holding his hands in your own, probably trying to make amends with him after last night’s outburst.

“Riddle, my love, I’m sorry. You went through a lot to catch my attention and it all went over my head! I didn’t mean to neglect you. I was just waiting for you to give me explicit permission, but I should’ve just asked.”

Riddle kept his eyes trained on the floor. “You don’t think I’m… silly? Or childish for acting in such ways? Though you didn’t ask for my permission to touch me, it’s not like I communicated with you, either. I used roundabout methods of trying to get you to love me, in the way that I wanted, and it all backfired horribly! I feel like such a fool.”

You squeezed his hands, causing him to glance up at you.

“Oh no!” You said, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t silly at all! I mean, now that I know what you were trying to do, it all seems rather cute, but- No! You- were embarrassed, and that’s understandable. I don’t think any less of you. And I’m glad that I know now, because it means I can give you as much love as you want! I promise I’ll give you all the hugs and kisses you desire!”

Riddle was taking deep breaths, a faint blush on his face and teary eyes.

You noticed, and chose to tentatively put a hand on Riddle’s head and ruffle his hair. “I love you, Riddle~”

“I love you, too. And… thank you. To make it even, I promise you that I won’t keep it in anymore. I’ll tell you what I want, even if it is embarrassing.”

And thus begins the stage of your relationship where you shower Riddle with love and affection forever and ever! >:D

**Bad endings? What is that? Never heard of them.**

#indulgent writing 🍓#riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #previously found on theheavilyinulgentgoat. but no more

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