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#something in me has a very bad feeling about this
buckyalpine · 1 day
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Bucky comfort. What I need like air right now is a sweet, chubby baker Bucky who notices his bunny is down. She doesn't say anything out of the ordinary when she comes to visit the bakery, kissing his soft scruffy cheek before taking a seat at the booth with a fresh Danish he made.
Cherry, because that's her favorite.
He can tell something is off when her smile doesn't quite meet her eyes and she's curled up in his hoodie quietly nibbling on the pastry instead of clinging onto him like she usually does.
He doesn't like it. Not one bit.
He loves when his girl hugs his thick waist tightly from behind while his works at the dough and rolls out croissants. Her little hands usually knead at the fluff around his belly. Instead she seems to be in her own world, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and pushing herself further into her seat to hide from the rest of world. You tell him you have to run a few errands and he doesn't miss your steamy eyes and small voice as you scurry off out of the bakery and it just adds to his worry.
Bucky was having none of that.
He lets Sam and Steve take over a couple of his orders, cleaning off and deciding to go straight home to you instead, he knows you don't actually have errands to do, he always makes sure to take care of them anyway. When he arrives back home, he isn't surprised to see your smaller form curled in a ball on the couch, eyes wide, surprised to see him.
"Bucky?" the quiver in your voice gives away that you'd been crying moments earlier.
"C'mere baby bunny" Bucky cooed, scooping you up in his beefy arms, and cradling your body to his, holding you to his chest while you nuzzle into his neck. "Wanna tell me what's going on in that little head of yours" He whispered against your hair, stroking it while you pull back, giving him a shrug. He knows you don't always want to talk about it but he's going to do what he can to make you feel better
"I'm not sure" You say with a sigh, your mind still running around a thousand miles a minute. Nothing particularly bad happened but one thought led to another; questioning if you were happy with your job, if you were happy with where you were in life, if you were someone Bucky would actually even want to be with, someone so sweet and loving and handsome like him, all your friends seemed to have found their footing and you were still here so unsure-
"Shhh" he kissed your forehead as if he could hear your insecurities screaming at you from inside your head. "What do you need sweet girl" His lips brush against the top of your head, breathing in your soft scent of peach body wash and vanilla lotion. He has you perfectly tucked into his much larger form, as if he were trying to protect his baby bunny from the rest of the world.
"Cuddles?" You cling onto him, sighing contently when he shifts so he can wrap you up in his arms while you bury your face into his chest. Everything about him is so comforting, if you could find a way to burrow yourself into him, you would. Your wiggling and shifting to get even closer makes Bucky chuckle, cooing at the whine you let out when he pulls away.
"Not going anywhere bunny, just getting us more comfortable" You're not sure how he does it but with minimal effort and movement he's helped you strip off all your clothes along with his, tossing the fluffy throw to cover you both up. You love feeling his bare skin against yours, practically purring now that you can feel every bit of him.
The rumble of your stomach doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky and he makes sure to wrap you up in a blanket burrito before getting up and padding over to the kitchen.
"Where are you going now" You pout and he cups your face with the gentlest touch.
"You're hungry bub, I'm just getting a snacky" and with that he walks off, grinning at the giggle you let out watching his perfectly perky ass saunter off.
"Yummyy" You wiggle happily from under your blanket at both the sight of you very pretty, very naked boyfriend carrying in a plate of more Danishes and a bunch of other pastries and fruit he grabbed on the way out when he left the bakery.
Bucky adores seeing you like this, setting down the snacks so he can hold you again when you give him grabby arms. He doesn't let you lift a fingers, feeding you another Danish, kissing the crumbs that clung onto your lips. He runs you a bath next. His bunny doesn't feel like moving much so he's happy to carry you there while you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear.
By the end of the night he loves seeing the light return to your eyes, your soft giggles when he has you perched on the bathroom counter doing your skin care routine with him.
"Keep your little paws to yourself, doll" Bucky swats away your hands when you reach for the lotion, taking over the job for himself. He's more than happy to massage up and down your calves to your thighs. He massages all the knots out of your back and shoulders before carrying you off to bed again for more cuddles and kisses.
Anyway, this was sitting in the drafts for weeds and it's still what I need rn.
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star-anise · 3 days
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are we talking about broke therapists yet?
I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.
Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.
After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.
Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.
Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?
I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."
Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?
I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.
Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.
At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.
I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.
I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."
My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.
All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.
Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.
I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.
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elvensorceress · 3 days
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not quite tuesday tidbit teases
it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?
tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕
It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed. 
He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself. 
His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons? 
So Buck answers. 
“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice. 
“Uh, yeah? Who is this?” 
“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”
“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?
Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.
“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…
They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up. 
Lets get you cleaned up.
Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen. 
He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.
“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”
Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—
They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—
And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.
“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”
Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there. 
He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door. 
~
The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney. 
Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both. 
He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. 
“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”
Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”
Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.” 
There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening. 
It can’t be happening. 
He can’t be dying.
There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops. 
Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.
Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him. 
“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter. 
Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me—  fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”
Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”
No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach. 
Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay. 
Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him. 
He knows. 
He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.
Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”
No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this. 
He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him. 
Eddie’s blood was all over him. 
“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them. 
“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”
Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together. 
It’s Eddie.
It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie. 
Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?
What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie. 
“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”
There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several. 
They give him five minutes. 
They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something. 
It’s something. 
Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie. 
Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive. 
Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to. 
Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.
And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters. 
Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.
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bluejeanstrash · 3 days
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inspired by this and this (sfw)
tags: idol! seungcheol x idol! reader, reader is a certified brat, brat taming, seungcheol and reader are hooking up, use of oppa and hyung, suggestive conversation | wc: 1.4k
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
seungcheol swears he’s mistaken when he hears the first paparazzi call your name. but there it is again, and again, and by the time the crowd is screaming hysterically, he’s sure it must be you. he turns around as he’s being escorted into the venue to see you on the red carpet, waving to the cameras, posing with a poise only a professional idol has. you look jaw-droppingly good, and he curses at the fact that he only got to see you for two seconds.
things work out in his favour though. he reaches his table to see a place card with your name on it. idols seated together. not a bad marketing decision.
unlike the vibrant red carpet, the inside of the venue is dim, a velvety purple hue painting the room, and there’s a dj whose set suits seungcheol’s taste. it’s nice being here after months of hiatus, and it would be even nicer if you’d get here quicker. your group and seventeen were contemporaries, and pretty good friends, though in the public eye it seemed like you’d barely interacted. everyone wanted to keep it that way.
finally, after what feels like hours, you walk in, heads turning as you make your way to the table. he checks you out, slowly this time, blown away by just how incredible you look. your dress is sensual yet subtle, and his hands are itching to feel the fabric, and you under it. you’re a few steps away when you pause, spotting him, equally surprised to see him here. you would rarely cross paths during schedules, so this was unusual.
respectful bows are exchanged before you take a seat. a waiter comes by to drop off glasses of champagne, and you take that as an opportunity to check seungcheol out. all black everything with faded auburn hair looks very sexy on him. you make a quick decision about what you want him to do to you in this outfit.
‘i didn’t know you were attending. just you?’ he asks politely, in stark contrast to how impolitely he'd fucked you the last time you met.
‘just me. just you?’
‘and wonwoo. wonwoo!’ seungcheol waves him down as wonwoo makes his way to the table, taking a seat to your other side.
‘hyung, they need you for some solo press’ he informs and seungcheol is escorted away by his manager.
in the 10 to 15 minutes that seungcheol’s gone, you make small talk with wonwoo, touching on agency-approved topics like comebacks, dance challenges, and the like. topics that wouldn’t cause an internet meltdown when someone would inevitably zoom into your lips and try to breakdown every word being said.
what you’d actually been dying to discuss with wonwoo was his latest fling, and why he’d ghosted them, but that’s filed away for another day.
seungcheol returns with a second drink in his hand, and message for wonwoo ‘wonwoo-ya, they’re calling you now. do well’ he encourages like always.
seungcheol takes a seat beside you, close enough to dispel any negative rumours and far enough to not get pulled into dating ones.
‘have you finished press?’
‘what?’ you lean forward, the music too loud to speak at a distance. he does the same, almost placing his hand on your thigh but he catches himself in the last second, closing his palm into a loose fist and resting it on the table. seungcheol repeats his question, and you nod. yes, you’re done with press.
‘there are way too many cameras here’ he recognises a few fans who run his biggest fansites, all “discreetly” pointing huge DSLRs in his direction. he has to be careful not to accidentally touch you. not to do something that makes both your names start trending tonight.
‘are you done with schedule? what are you doing after this?’ he gives your dress a once over, trying to figure out how to undo it. there’s a complicated knot at the back which makes him eager to try.
the corners of your mouth curl into a playful smile before you take a sip of the bubbly. the sparkling gold goes down easy, and your words come out smooth,
‘you’
his eyes widen as the gulp of champagne he’s taking enters the wrong pipe, sending him into a tiny coughing fit. his eyes dart around the room to see if anyone caught that.
he takes another sip to recover, regaining any composure lost. then he leans in, plump cherry lips brushing against your ear ‘don’t say shit like that when we’re in public or i swear to god’
he sits back, adjusting the fall of his suit, and runs his fingers nervously through his thick hair which bounces right back into place.
this time you lean in completely, seungcheol refusing to meet you halfway, your earrings dangling with the motion ‘or what? what’s oppa going to do to me? punish me for being bad?’ you have a dangerous lilt in your tone that makes his dick throb.
‘stop. it.’ he mouths a warning. as if that has ever made a difference.
to seungcheol’s surprise, you had turned out to be quite a handful. you were different from your idol image. same, but different. he’d liked you instantly when you’d met outside work at his manager’s party and one thing led to another till you both had hooked up. he couldn’t believe it. you were two of his favourite things — a brat and a nasty slut combined into one gorgeous woman, and seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way.
though, right now he could, because at this moment you were a pain in the ass and a throb in his dick, both of which he couldn’t afford. it’s not like he could refuse to engage in conversation with you. how bad would that look? so he stays still, listening to whatever lewd filth you’re whispering into his ear.
‘oppa, you know that thing you said you wanted to try with me? you wanted to put it inside my…while you turned on the vibrator in my other hole? can we try it? please?’ you leave your words vague, his imagination running wild. he’s going to kill you. it can’t get any worse, he thinks, but then the music changes.
an rnb song. no, an rnb song that’s no. 24 on your blended spotify sex playlist. in a biological reaction that would make pavlov proud, his cock starts to stiffen in his pants from the very first note. he catches your eye, looking away instantly. this is bad. this is very bad.
in an attempt to hide the tent that’s pitching in his pants, seungcheol crosses one leg over the other, taking further precautions to cover his crotch with a drape of his arms. it’s clear to you what’s happening, and if it wasn’t obvious enough he starts bouncing his knee, moving it a million times a minute. he’d read somewhere it gets rid of an unwanted erection, but it seems to be doing jack shit.
you lean back, amused, smoothing a flyaway hair, and elegantly throw your sleek locks over your shoulder to reveal a hint of your cleavage. seungcheol has spent a lot of time in there — kissing, licking, sucking…and shooting cum on that strip of skin. you know what you’re doing. he knows what you’re doing. the waiter who just walked past knows what you’re doing. seungcheol makes a mental note to tell his manager not to book you both at the same event ever again.
he tears his gaze away from your chest, focusing on the table in front of him. how many overlapping stitches can he see? he counts.
but you’re not done yet. no, you want him riled up and pissed off. you want that vein in his neck to pop. you wonder if you can run the risk of sliding your foot up his leg. probably not, and yet a second later the point of your heel slides up the inner seam of his pants, making him jump in his chair.
his jaw clenches, his neck tightens ‘that’s enough, you fucking brat’ he spits, forgetting to lean in or hide his mouth.
you grin impishly, taking a congratulatory sip of your champagne. he doesn’t know this but you’re soaking wet, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your cunt. riling him up always made you leak arousal in anticipation for the impending punishment.
unfortunately, before you can get a teaser of what’s to come, wonwoo returns, walking alongside your manager. you’ve done your part, made your appearance, and it’s time to leave, he says. you say your goodbyes, first to wonwoo, and then turn to seungcheol who lets out a small huff of air before standing up. he smiles for the cameras and bows, glaring at you as you lock eyes and whispers,
‘you’re in so much trouble’
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hotpinkstars · 2 days
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ESPRESSO - aventurine x reader
- "now he's thinkin' bout me, everynight, oh, is it that sweet? i guess so." or, how does aventurine do when he's in love?
- GUYS GUYS QUEEN SABRINA DROPPED A SINGLE i've been listening to this for days and i needed to write about it sooooooooooo yeah! anyways i'll get to writing probably a few requests tomorrow and wednesday (expect 4-5 posts between those days to make up for my absence) and yeahhhhhh enjoy!!
- aventurine might be a little ooc, mentions of his trauma (so penacony main quest spoilers), reader confesses at the end. wc 1067
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Aventurine doesn’t know what to do when he first figures out that the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you was because he liked you. He probably tried to deny it, until Topaz caught him blushing like crazy after you walked away from the conversation you two had just finished. (Even then, she had to tell him, and then he spent a long time thinking that possibility through. She might have been right). 
You plague his visions. Why does he always want something to do with you? Why does he always want to be in your space, but also never wants to see you again? You’ve noticed his weird behavior, considering you were one of the first people he’s ever genuinely called a friend, but didn’t really think too far into it. 
Though, it didn’t stop you from paying more attention to it, that's for a fact. Sometimes you’d pay more attention to his body movements around you, the way he speaks, his etiquette, etc. You and Topaz communicate through it, and it’s a little bit different from his conversations with her. 
You know he can be cocky. Like, very cocky. You know he’s not too afraid to talk back, to challenge someone to a gamble (spoiler he wins), and to be reckless. Though, you also know about his backstory. So you can kind of understand where he’s coming from. 
He’s been pretty open with you about all of the things he’s endured. You know his real name, he’s described how his family has looked, and he’s described his years he endured slavery and what his home planet was like. You know about the Men in Black and the Katicans. And you know how traumatized he is.
Now, you’ve known him for a long, long time before this. You welcomed him into the IPC when Jade first announced his arrival, and you kind of showed him the ropes. He thought you seemed kind, so he stayed in contact with you.
You’ve watched him change, all of his progress through life, the hard times and the good times, and so much more. And that's what gets him the most, he thinks. 
He never realized how much he trusted you until he realized he liked you. You know every single thing about this man, which was the reason why he was rather… nervous when he’d have to communicate with you face to face. He did a good job at keeping up his front he uses to talk to people, but you sensed a slight form of stress underneath all the layers he put up to look tough. 
He lays awake, thinking about you. You’ve made part of his mind your home, and it’s the part he comes back to over and over again. You replay in his mind like a good song that he can’t get enough of- on, and on, and on, and on. 
He does like to bring you little trinkets he finds pretty when he goes out in public to do some shopping. Considering how wealthy he is, he could probably afford to buy out the whole store, so if you even mention something you like to him, he’s on his way to find it for you. He likes to think of it as he’s buying your kindness, but you think something completely different. You enjoy his sudden gift giving, not just because of your gain, but because he thought about you enough to do such a thing. It always makes you slightly blush before laughing while opening the box presented in front of you. He thinks that's the most precious part about your time spent together; all of the opportunities he gets to listen to your gorgeous laughter and see your flawless smile. Topaz, pinch the man, he’s in his own personal dreampool.
Oh, how bad he wants to confess to you, but he’s really afraid of rejection. He fears losing you entirely, fears that you won’t look at him like you always do if he asked if you two could be a thing. He fears you’d think he was odd for wanting you to himself, and that you’d slowly back away until you refuse to even look at his broken, battered form any longer. The thought makes a shiver crawl up his back. He can’t lose you too. 
All this man asks is to find a way to remove you from his head. You’re absolutely tormenting him! Notice how he’s been lacking on his work lately, always caught in a daze when he’s sitting down at his desk? That’s you he’s daydreaming about. He’s no good with his emotions. He knows how to hide sadness, fear, and anger, but he’s never been in this boat before. Love is a whole new concept to him. 
“Aventurine, you’ve been out of it lately. Tell me, is something the matter?” You barge through the blonde's office, not even bothering to knock. You know you don’t have to, he’s never doing anything so significant in that tiny space that it needs to be kept private.
“What are you saying? Nothings up with me,” he drops his pen in the small plaster pen cup you bought for him. “Work has been tiring lately. Nothing to stress over.” 
You plop into the chair in front of his desk, resting your arms on the top and putting your head in between your palms.
“I can tell when you lie. Tell the truth.”
He looks away. What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t get you out of his brain, and that you’re the only thing he can focus on? That’ll scare you off for sure!
“Aventurine?? You there?” you wave a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze once more. “You know, you don’t have to lie. I already know what you’re thinking.”
His eyes slightly widen, just enough for you to notice. You giggle very lightly before continuing on with your sentence. “You have a little crush, don’t you? Don’t worry, I like you back. Seriously, I do.”
He doesn’t know how to reply to that. He doesn’t know if he wants to faint or make out with you right now. “So that makes us…?”
“I don’t know. We could remain friends, we could be boyfriend girlfriend, whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Well, he believes he already knows the answer he’s choosing.
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hopelessdazai · 3 days
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✿ 》 Will you talk to me again?
╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; I don't expect this to do well because its not smut but it'd be nice !! reblogs appreciated, support your creators :)
╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; @saelique angst collab!! dazai x gn!reader, WC ; 784
╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; angst, reader isn't alive, letter from dazai. he's trying very hard to keep himself stable but it's not working™.
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To my dearest ______ .
It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you don't mind me writing to you like this, it's simply been too long. I'm sure you're still angry at me, so seeing you physically isn't my best interest right now! haha, I'm sorry. you know I'm just joking around, don't you? I'd love to see you in person. I'm sure you would've punched my arm if you heard me out loud right now, wouldn't you? I'm glad I'm spared of the bruises.
what does someone put in a letter? that's what I was asking myself before I even began writing. I decided that the best way to do something like this was to just write whatever I feel true as pen touches paper. I hope it makes sense to you, at the least. if I'm pouring my heart out on some paper only for it to be misunderstood, it feels like a waste, no?
though, i'd be lying if i said it wouldn't be rather cute to see you try to fathom what I mean. did you know you scrunch your nose like a bunny sometimes when you're reading? I'm sure you're doing that now too. you'll get wrinkles very at this rate ..
but anyway, I managed to prank kunikida the other day! you remember that hair dye trick I'd told you about? I managed to break into his apartment and swap out his shampoo, at last! he came into work the next day with black hair, it was hilarious, you should've been here! he was so angry with me. beat me black and blue!
oh, _____. I got a new heated blanket for our bed, you know? it took a while to save up for it, and I had to cut out some other necessities, sure. but it makes everything so much better! I hate cold beds, I'm sure you know that better then anyone. haha, back before we moved in together when I'd break into your apartment and crawl into bed with you. I'm sorry for the amount of locks I broke, but your place was so cozy!
... you know, it's been really hard without you here. I miss you so painfully, and I don't mean to call into the void without even an echo, but its killing me to pretend I'm fine about any of this. I'm not fine with this, how am I supposed to be? I wish it was just a bad dream.
I don't want to have to write letters to you anymore, ______. I don't want to have to buy heated blankets to try and stop my arms from aching for your warmth. I don't want you to be angry with me, I'm sorry I didn't apologise to you before you were gone. I shouldn't have been so stupid.
i had so many words on my mind that I was too afraid to say. maybe if I faced myself and told you 'I love you' it would've stopped you leaving.
have you met odasaku yet? has he told you any stories of his time? I wish I could hear your voice again. I wish you could answer my questions. even to hear you scoff at my stupidity again would heal me. I'm sorry I was annoying, I just wanted your attention. it stings knowing I'll never get it again.
I can't keep repeating to myself that you're not gone. I can't keep buying your perfume and pretending that you're in the next room over. your pillow doesn't smell like you anymore.
I wish I could apologise properly. I wish I could've stopped you from leaving the house that night. I wish I could kill myself to join you and yet I know we won't cross paths again in the afterlife. you were always too good for me, ______. i was nothing compared to you.
i picked up a homeless dog yesterday. you'd always wanted a puppy, I'm sorry I never let you bring one home. I named it after you. im trying to get used to them, I promise. if I couldn't save you, I'll save your name.
I'm sorry. if I continue writing, my throat will hurt more. its strange, isn't it? crying makes your throat sore. I forgot what it was like for a while, I remember laying in your arms wondering if I'd ever have a reason to cry again. now I can't seem to help myself.
keep your wings clean for me, white looks good on you. its a shame you couldn't wear the wedding attire i wished to see you in one day. you would've looked amazing.
I'll write again, missing you is the greatest honor.
sincerely, your osamu.
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lavenderstobins · 3 days
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It's the third day in a row that Wayne Munson has seen the girl in the diner.
Usually, he doesn't pay attention to new faces. He's been frequenting the diner for some years now and there's often ones he doesn't recognise: people passing through Hawkins, visiting family, etc.
The girl has caught his attention, though. She's sitting tucked into the far corner of the diner, a glass of water in front of her and nothing else. She's wearing the same t-shirt and flannel shirt she'd been wearing yesterday, and the day before, he's pretty sure. She didn't order any food yesterday; she hasn't ordered any food today.
Bev likes to joke he has a sense for kids who need help. Says there's an alarm in his head that makes him worry himself sick whenever there's a waif in need.
She's sitting next to him now, one eyebrow raised. He sighs. Waif in need alarm, indeed.
"What's the deal with the kid?" he murmurs, nodding subtly in the girl's direction.
Bev shrugs. "Beats me. That's Robert's girl, that's all I know."
He frowns. "Robert?"
"Nurse. Took good care of me when my knee went bad." She takes a swig of coffee, her eyes going sad. "Died, oh, maybe eight months back."
Wayne looks back at the girl. She's staring down at her half-empty glass of water. Tucked under the table there's a bulky-looking backpack.
"She got family?"
"Just her mother, far as I know. Met her a couple of times, too. 'Nother nurse. Seems nice enough."
"Hmph." Wayne turns back to his coffee. Ain't his business, he tells himself firmly. He should focus on his lunch.
When he gets up to pay, he glances once more in the girl's direction. He'll give it a couple of days, he decides. If she's still here then, still in the same clothes, he'll see if she's alright.
Wayne doesn't even last the day.
He's on his way home from work when he sees movement in a phonebox on the side of the road. The road's empty aside from him, and it's raining, and the sky's getting dark, so it immediately strikes him as odd. When he sees it's the teenage girl from earlier, he nearly crashes his truck with how hard he hits the brakes.
She's huddled down in the phonebox, clasping the backpack he'd noticed. She looks sodden. It had been raining heavier earlier; from the looks of it, she'd been caught in it. Her hair's plastered to her face and she's shivering.
He's winding down his window before his brain's even caught up to the movement. He's actually not sure how to go about it, very conscious of the fact that it's just the two of them out here and she's a teenage girl while he's an old man.
Feeling very much like he's approaching a wild animal, he clears his throat. "You okay, miss?"
The girl jumps, her head jerking up. She looks at him with wild eyes, wide and afraid. She reminds him of Eddie the day he showed up on his doorstep, timid and small.
"I'm f—fine." Her teeth chatter as she speaks. Where is this girl's mother? Where are her guardians?
"You need to call someone? I got a couple o'quarters, I think."
She shakes her head. Wayne frowns. Something ain't sitting right with him.
"You waiting on your ma?"
To his horror, her face crumples, and she buries her face in her arms. He's out of the truck like a shot, rushing over to find her shoulders heaving.
"Now, now—" He's panicking, admittedly. She can't be much younger than Eddie is.
"She—She—" the girl sobs. "She kicked me out and I—I don't have anywhere to go and it's so cold and wet and—and—"
A bout of rage washes over him. He pushes it down, tugging his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. It doesn't have a hood, but it's dry. Christ, she must be soaked to the bone.
"Listen," Wayne starts, hesitating almost immediately. It's an insane suggestion from a strange man; he doesn't want to scare her off, but he doesn't want her spending the night in this phonebox, either. "I got a kid about your age. My Eddie. You come to mine and we can get you sorted out, okay? Or—Or I can find you a motel room, or something."
Sniffling, the girl looks up at him, wrapping herself up in his jacket. "Is that... is that okay?"
His heart breaks. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course."
She stands, wobbly, still clutching her backpack. She's soaked through like he'd thought, and she shivers once she's in the front seat. He's quick to turn the heating up, starting the truck again, and for a moment he's furious: her immediate agreement, the lack of hesitation about getting into a vehicle with a strange man, makes him boil with hatred towards this girl's mother.
The journey's quiet and, thankfully, not too long. Wayne ushers her into the trailer, already preparing to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Eddie's out at Jeff's for band practice, so he says, but Wayne knows him well enough to know he'll come home stinking of weed.
The girl stands awkwardly in the living room, still shivering. It occurs to him, suddenly, that he doesn't even know her name.
Still. An issue for later. He focuses on the hot chocolate. Once it's ready, he hands it over to her, and doesn't miss how eagerly she accepts it.
Only then does he broach the subject. "What's your name, miss?"
She's quiet a moment, cradling the mug in her hands. "It's Robin. Uh, Robin, sir."
"None of that 'sir' business," he says gruffly. "Name's Wayne. Eddie'll be home later but you can have his bed if you need a place to stay for the night."
This might be the most he's spoken in years, trying desperately to come across as reassuring. It breaks his heart how trusting she's being, though.
"Thank you." Robin goes quiet, her fingers curling around the handle of the mug. "I, um, I can pay you back for the ride—"
He waves a hand, frowning. "None of that. I'd like to think if it were my Ed in your shoes, someone would be there for him like this."
She manages a small smile. She's still in her soaking clothes. He hustles over to Eddie's room, raiding the drawers for whatever looks most comfortable. Eddie won't complain, he knows.
Robin gratefully accepts the clothes. He goes back into Eddie's room to give her privacy, unsure exactly how long to wait. There's that stereotype that women take forever to change, right? It must hold some truth.
He gives it an hour, just to be safe. When he emerges, he finds that she's curled up on the couch, out like a light. His jacket's pulled up to her chin like a blanket.
Waif in need alarm. He sighs. Bev's right after all. He won't be surprised if this situation resolves with him having another kid in his care.
Well, Eddie always wanted a sister, anyway.
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sister-lucifer · 2 days
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Eager Hands On Soft Flesh
Ticci Toby x Chubby!Transmasc!Reader 
My half of a trade with @pompeiisystem !
Genre: Smut
Summary: After you let slip that you’ve got your fair share of insecurities about your body, Toby simply can’t pass up the opportunity to appreciate every bit of you. 
Content/Warnings: Body worship, Reader’s body is focused on but I specifically chose NOT to use the word “fat,” Reader is insecure about their weight but Toby is there for reassurance, fucking against the kitchen counter, unprotected penis in trans masc vagina sex, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), messy pussy eating, cumming inside, praise, use of “cunt,” “pussy,” and similar variations to describe Reader’s genitalia, Toby has a dick piercing but it’s only briefly mentioned 
“Toby, be honest, do you think this outfit would look better if I…you know, lost some weight?”
The sudden lurch of his body followed by sputtering and coughing as he chokes on his drink makes you jump. Your eyes widen a bit as you watch him struggle to regain his composure, wiping his mouth and trying not to spit. His tongue clicks involuntary, neck jerking in all directions as he tries to process what he’s just heard. 
“Wh— W-What the hell are you t-talkin’ about?” He stammers, speaking through the discomfort of off brand soda in his windpipe. 
“I just mean…you know,” You reply, suddenly feeling sheepish as you look down at the crimson sweater keeping snug against your top half, “I was just thinking…maybe I should—“ 
“Did I s-say something?” Toby says quickly. He rises from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, wiping his chin with his sleeve one last time. “Did I m-make you—shhhrk!—make you— m-make you think that you h-had to?” 
“Oh no, of course not!” You’re fast to reply, gently putting your hands on his arms and giving a small squeeze. “No, no, it’s not you at all, I promise. I was just thinking—“ 
“W-Well you shouldn’t d-do that anymore.” 
You sigh softly, moving your hands down go grasp his. You run your thumbs over his knuckles as his fingers tense and twitch despite his best efforts to hold onto you, looking up at him through your lashes. 
“Toby, come on, I didn’t mean anything bad about you. I’m just saying…I want you to be honest with me, that’s all.”
You look down at yourself, at the knit sweater and jeans you’ve put on. They’re comfortable, yes, but there’s something about the way you look in them that just doesn’t add up. You shouldn’t have expected to look exactly like the model on the website, really. You didn’t think you did. 
You’re starting to feel foolish for spending your money on this. It was silly, really, to be so excited about something as simple as a cute sweater, but at the time you thought you couldn’t live without it. You have plenty of other perfectly good outfits in your closet. Really, what reason did you have to think— 
You gasp softly when Toby suddenly pulls you in, ripping you from your thoughts with hands on your waist, gently grabbing at your love handles and pushing you back against the counter. His lips find your neck in a split second.
You moan softly, the sensation surprising but not unpleasant. You grasp at the back of his sweatshirt with one hand and run your fingers through his hair with the other. He groans under his breath when you tug just a bit.
“Please, baby,” He whispers against your skin, “P-Please, let me love on y-you just a-a bit…” 
“Toby, what are you—“ 
“Nothing, baby, I-I’m not doing a-anything…Just l-let me…”
Your cheeks are getting hot fast. You make no effort to push him away, but you can’t help getting flustered. 
“Toby, c’mon, you don’t have to do all this…” 
“I-I want to, though,” He says quickly, starting to nip and suck at your neck between kisses, “I’m not v-vvv-very good with words, I-I…I just—j-just wanna show you—shhh!—s-show you what you f-feel like…to m-me…” 
He pauses with a sigh, pulling back slowly. He looks up at you almost hesitantly, an expression you rarely see on his face. He’s always the first to act on an impulse, rarely ever thinking twice about anything; what’s slowing him down now? 
“…i-if you’ll let me, I-I mean.” 
The words come out far too gentle for Toby, and it makes you melt against him a bit. He’s always so eager to get his hands on your body, but something in him is sensing something unsure in you. You look back into the mossy color of his hazel eyes with contemplation. 
You can’t stop the gentle smile that spreads over your face. 
You pull him down to give him a slow kiss, and he happily returns the gesture. When you pull back again, there’s no hiding the anticipation on his face as he awaits your answer.
“…Of course, Toby.”
He takes only a split second to process the words before suddenly he’s roughly suckling and nipping at the flesh of your neck. You yelp in surprise, but not discomfort. You bite your lip as you grip his hair, trying to keep him against you. 
His hands freely wander your body, moving up and down your sides before slipping beneath your sweater. You suck in a breath when he gives an affectionate squeeze to your love handles, fingers greedily grabbing at the warmth beneath your skin. He groans as he feels you, entire body shuddering at the sensation of you beneath his hands. 
He moves so quickly, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear at any moment, like some invisible clock is counting down and the moment is reaches zero you’ll fade away. He grabs at you and sucks at your neck like he’s feeding on you, like your body heat is the only thing sustaining him. He needs you, and you can feel it in every touch. 
He pushes your sweater up to your chest before hands slide down towards the waistband of your jeans. Twitching fingertips fiddle with the button and then the fly, yanking down the zipper with such speed you were worried it would break. He pulls the jeans down around your ankles, not bothering to pull them off before moving on to your underwear.
He looks up at you, fingers tapping anxiously at the waistband. He licks his dry lips, mouthing a silent ‘Can I?’
“Yes, yes, please,” You reply without hesitation, nodding quickly. You gasp softly when he tugs your underwear down to your knees, exposing your now soaked pussy to the cool air and making you shudder. He can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from his lips at the sight. 
“S-So fucking beautiful…” He mutters through crooked teeth as he lowers himself slowly. Normally he would be eager to drop to his knees and service you, but just this once he’s taking his time. He’s methodical as he leaves a warm trail of kisses down your belly, letting his lips linger for a long few seconds before he moves down just a bit more. You watch with bated breath as he makes his way down until there’s no further to go. 
“…You know I-I love this-sss-s pretty tummy, don’t you?” He mumbles against your skin, looking up into your eyes. Your heart skips a bit when you nod. He doesn’t seem satisfied.
“Say it.”
“…I…I know, Toby.”
One corner of his mouth briefly quirks up into a smirk before an involuntary jerk of his neck and scrunching of his nose pulls it back down again..
He pauses then, eyes widening slightly with something you can only describe as admiration as his eyes trail down to your sweet cunt, wetting his lips on instinct.
You don’t have a second to wonder what he’s doing before suddenly his warm mouth engulfs your cunt. In a split second it seems all semblance of patience has left his body. You cry out, throwing your head back as your back arches. You instinctively push your hips against him, grinding into his mouth.
“T-Toby—!” 
Your fingers find his untamed thatch of brown hair in an instant, gripping tightly just how he likes. He moans as you call out his name, his voice sending vibrations through your cunt. He’s an excitable, messy eater, lapping at your cunt with need and not bothering to try and hide the wet squelching sounds his mouth makes as his tongue slides in an out of you, lips curling around the mound of your pussy and the tip of his crooked nose bumping your swollen clit. 
“Fuck…mmh…” He groans under his breath, not once losing contact or pulling away, “Y-You have no idea how m-much— m-mumble, mumble— much I-I love this boycunt…t-tastes sooo, s-so— so sweet…could just…just— j-just eat it for hours…”
He’s slurring his words already, speech messy and scattered at the words carelessly flow between his lips and down his chin like water over the edge of a cliff. His mouth is already soaking, drool leaking from his mouth and gash combined with your slick arousal. 
You squeal when you feel his two of his fingers prod at your entrance, anxiously pushing through and wasting no time reaching as deep as they can. Your entire body tenses and your back arches involuntarily against the counter as his digits twitch inside of you, slipping in and out at an excited pace. 
“C-Careful, Toby,” You stammer. He gives only a quick nod in reply before pushing in a third finger, the tip of his tongue now flicking at your clit. A thick mixture of his own spit and the juices leaking from your cunt is dripping down his chin and running down his neck. 
The hand not nestled in his hair is bracing you against the counter, gripping the marble hard as you struggle to keep yourself steady. You’re resisting the urge to just collapse with each shockwave Toby’s tongue and fingers send through your throbbing pussy. His free hand is grabbing at your sides and hips, half trying to keep you up and half groping you for his own pleasure. He spreads his fingers out inside of you, stretching you as much as he can as he readies you to take his cock.
When he finally pulls away you’re struggling to breathe, chest heaving with heavy gasps as you recover. He stands back up to his full height, towering over you and not even bothering to wipe his mouth before he captures your lips in a heated kiss. You could care less about the feeling of your own viscous arousal against your lips; there’s no room for disgust in your lust-filled brain. 
Toby’s panting as well when he pulls away, licking his lips before speaking.
“You s-sss-see how sweet you t-taste?”
You mimic his gesture, tongue darting out to lick over your own lips. You shyly nod, and a crooked smile spreads across his face. 
“C’mon, b-bend over f’me,” He says, giving your side an encouraging pat.
You happily comply, laying yourself over the counter and arching your back a bit. You shiver at the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling, then his fly coming down, and then that wonderful sigh of relief he lets out when he pushes down his jeans and boxers in one go. Not even a second later his tip is pressing against your cunt. 
He leans over you, nuzzling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your middle. 
“You ready?” He whispers, and you nod without thinking. 
He immediately pushes inside of you, groaning into your ear as you tense, nails digging into the flesh of your palm as his cock stretches you. The bulbous head manages to bully its way into your cunt, and you can feel the veins on his shaft as they brush against your walls. The crooked Prince Albert piercing adoring his tip scrapes against your cervix and pulls a drawn out moan from your glistening lips. 
Toby curses to himself as he bottoms out, finally pushing in as far as he can go. You can feel his cock twitching with need inside of you as it acclimates to your tight hole. He’s clinging to you like his life depends on it, fingers pressing into the ample flesh of your soft tummy and sides. 
A choked noise claws its way out of your throat as he slowly pulls back, your cunt squelching and dripping as his cock recedes to the head, pausing for a moment before pushing back in. You cry out with a broken call of his name, your plump body pushed hard into the counter that’s currently keeping you from collapsing into a heap on the floor beneath your lover. 
Toby’s lanky body practically engulfs yours as he ruts into you over and over again, slowly but surely getting faster with each thrust as he faces less and less resistance from your pussy, the slick canal gradually being molded to the shape of his cock. He’s huffing and moaning in your ear, not at all shy or ashamed to be vocal for you. 
“Nngh…I-I don’t think I’ll—Fuck! Shit!—I’ll ever— e-ev-vvv-ver get used to t-this perfect fff-fuckin’ boycunt…Goddamn…!” 
He’s grabbing all over your body, hands moving feverishly between your chest and stomach and hips as he squeezes every inch of hot skin he can find. 
“Sooo fucking h-handsome,” He sighs in your ear, “I’m s-so fucking lucky that I-I get to— t-to love you like this-sss-s…”
He can hardly get the words out between his desperate mewls, needy sounds that he couldn’t keep at bay if he tried. He’s drooling again, unable to focus on muscle control as his base instincts take over, screaming at him to just forget everything else and fuck you like you deserve to be fucked. 
You reach up to gently push his cheek against your own, pressing a kiss to his jaw and making him whine. He turns his head to kiss you once more, tongue pushing past your lips and allowing you to taste the last remnants of your soggy cunt on his tongue. 
His cock reaches every bit of your insides, pushing in so far you swear you can feel it in your stomach. With each thrust he only speeds up more and more, rambling on and on about how amazing you feel and how badly he needs this perfect boypussy.
“So beautiful,” He chokes out, eyes starting to roll back in his head, “S-So fucking beautiful…all thick and p-perfect…fuck, a-ah—!”
He’s starting to lose his pace, and fast. One of his hands slowly slides down your stomach, his middle finger pawing at your clit. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and your knees nearly buckle beneath you, prompting Toby to tighten his grip on you just in case you can’t stand yourself up anymore. He rubs your clit in soft circles, just the way you’d taught him all that time ago. Just the way you like. 
“Nngh—! T-Toby,” You stammer, barely able to get the words out, “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…!” 
“I-I know,” He replies in a rush, “I-I wanna—want it! want it!—w-wanna feel you cum around me…p-please, please…?”
God, how can you deny him when he begs like that?
You start to push back against him in time with his thrusts, assisting him in sheathing himself inside of you and savoring the wonderful fullness. Your legs are shaking obviously now, and you have to fight to keep yourself up even with Toby’s help. He’s not too steady himself. 
He’s started to rub your clit a bit harder, no longer able to focus on keeping his pace steady with his fingers nor his thrusts. The constant shifts in pressure and speed are only pushing you to your release faster. 
He’s whining endlessly in your ear, slurring his words as he drones on and on about how handsome you are, how much he loves you, how grateful he is that he’s the only one who gets to fuck this precious little cunt. 
He’s barely keeping time now, any sense of rhythm forgotten as he desperately ruts into you over and over again. He’s almost at his limit, not far behind you. 
“Toby,” You gasp, “Please, I-I’m gonna—!”
“Do it,” He growls, “D-Do it, please, lemme f-fff-feel that pussy tighten around m-me…”
Just his words, the clear desperation and need in his voice, is enough to push you over the edge. You manage one last cry of his name before you cum around his twitching cock, cunt squeezing and convulsing as you struggle to cope with the wave of pleasure washing over you with more force than you were ready for. 
Toby curses under his breath and sputters out what you think is a warning, but you can barely hear him with the way your head is spinning. That’s what makes it all the more jarring when suddenly he’s releasing inside of you, the fullness of his cock replaces with the thick warmth of his seed spilling into you deeper than you ever thought possible. He groans as his thrusting lazily slows to a stop, leaving you both sweaty and panting. 
He releases his death grip on you, but keeps his arms around your middle. He nuzzles against your cheek with a sigh. He shifts slightly, and you cringe a bit when you feel some of his cum dripping out of you. 
“You’re s-so beautiful baby,” He mumbles against your skin, clearly just as fucked out as you are, “So fucking…p-perfect…my h-ha-handsome boy…”
You give him a tired smile, pressing a little kiss to his warm cheeks. 
“I know, Toby. I know.”
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localemofreak · 3 days
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Honeymoon In Vegas.
(Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)
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(A/n: there’s no music to this, just a little blurb I thought of because- idk, it sounded rad and dumb and sexy in my head.. anywayyyysss- enjoy. Also I’m sorry if it’s super short- I wasn’t really trying to think of anything for this- 😭)
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Story: it’s just a little- I mean very tiny dorky blurb of a part of your little honeymoon with Eddie in the city of Viva Las Vegas, Nevada.
‼️WARNINGS‼️: use of y/n, heavy mention of smut, sexual references, some fluff, reader and Eddie are in their honeymoon phase, mentions of nudity, Eddie acting like a horny dork, it’s giving black cat reader and golden retriever Eddie, not that much going on since I’m lazy but thought of this, etc. (if I forgot something, please tell me!!)
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It had been about three days since you and Eddie decided to officially tie the knot in Vegas while on a little break during his tour..
And it had also been about three days of you and him being trapped in the fancy hotel suite- that was now completely trashed, that you had been spending your little honeymoon weekend in.
All you two have been doing for the past three days has just been having sex, not even really taking a break to try and go out and do things.
You have been just completely cooped up with Eddie- who’s little horny lovemaking machine didn’t seem to be breaking down anytime soon.
It’s not like you had a true problem against him wanting to fuck nonstop- it’s not like he was bad at all, in fact he was quite the opposite.
It’s just after a few days of nonstop love making, you needed a moment to just take a break- do something else besides lay in that bed with your legs feeling completely numb.
Currently, you had decided to get up from the bed where Eddie was laying down next to you slightly sprawled out, his breathing heavy and his chest heaving up and down after round- whatever you guys were on, you honestly stop keeping track at this point.
You were starting to feel hungry, so you decided to get up finally to grab some breakfast.
Your legs honestly just felt like complete jelly at that moment, and you looked like a complete mess- runny makeup, hair everywhere, hickies that littered the skin of your neck.
You honestly looked completely spent- and at that moment, you felt like it to be honest.
As Eddie laid there collecting himself, you had decided to slowly and carefully try to bring yourself to stand up.
Your legs wobbled a little bit but you managed to keep yourself from falling- and the room spun a little as you tried to get the blood to rush through your legs a little since it had been a second since you actually stood up.
As you glanced around, you noticed how trashed the bedroom of the suite was.
There was empty bottles of alcohol and condom wrappers everywhere- also don’t forget the clothes and just overall trash scattered all over.
You could hear Eddie mumbling a little bit as he laid on the messy looking mattress- which you decided to ignore as you grabbed a robe to wrap around your naked body.
As soon as you got yourself somewhat covered, you decided to slowly shuffle out of the little room and into the living room of the suite- that was also connected to the kitchen.
As you slowly shuffled your way into the living room- you noticed how even more trashy it looked.
It was a complete mess- just beer bottles, wine bottles, vodka bottles, all empty and scattered around the place.
Things were thrown around, couch cushions were on the ground and there was trash everywhere.
You knew before you two had left you both would have a big job on picking this shit up so that you wouldn’t get in trouble for basically destroying the room.
After standing there for a moment, assessing the damage with what your tired eyes could see- you soon shuffled your way over to the kitchen to sit down.
A tired sigh escaped from your lips as you sat down, your hands moving to run over your face as you leaned against your elbows on the table- just trying to get yourself all together.
After sitting there for a moment, just trying to collect your thoughts and relax- you soon heard the sound of feet shuffling against the floor mixed with a tired groan.
Eddie had gotten up obviously, seeing you had gotten up- that automatically meant he had to follow you.
You picked your head up from your hands as you glanced over with tired eyes, seeing Eddie wrapped in nothing but a robe.
His hair was messy and slightly all over the place, and his bangs were slightly stuck to his forehead as he scratched at his head while a yawn escaped from his mouth.
“I see you’re up-” you mumbled out, causing Eddie to nod his head and give a little tired but cheeky smirk while he made his way over to you.
“How’s my sexy little wifeee~” he hummed out with a slight chuckle, his body leaning forward to press his head into the crook of your neck.
As you felt his lips kissing at your neck, you just let out a tired sigh and shook your head, your hands pushing at his half covered tattooed chest since he didn’t really tie the robe around his body fully- it kind of just hung to his body.
“Eddie- please, let’s just take a break for a moment.. I want breakfast-” you got out while Eddie pulled his head out of the crook of your neck, a slight chuckle falling from his lips as he just hummed in response.
“Alright, alright- fine, what do you want?” He said, his hands moving to fix the robe he was wearing a little bit but it still wasn’t covering much.
“I just want food- I don’t care what it is..” you muttered out, obviously just hungry as you gave him a little pout- which he couldn’t help but find adorable.
“Hm, I think sausage sounds nice don’t yah sweetie?” He hummed out, the smirk on his face getting wider as he just decided to be an ass and place his semi hard dick down on the table in front of you.
You could hear the small snicker fall from his lips which caused you to roll your eyes as you tried your best to hide the grin trying to appear on your face.
“Eddie- come onnn..” you whined out, which caused him to quickly put his dick back into his robe as he put his hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay- fine, seriously- nowwww what to do you want??” He questioned, this time actually being genuine as he crossed his arms lightly over his chest while leaning back against the counter of the kitchen.
You just sat there for a moment, your eyes glancing to look up at him as he stood there.
You couldn’t help but admire him- even though he looked like a mess right now, he still looked absolutely beautiful.
“…sausage actually does sound nice- the actual thing though..” you mumbled out, which caused Eddie to crack a dumb little smirk.
“Whatever you want my love~” he hummed out while standing up from leaning back against the counter, which caused you to crack a wide grin up at him as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.
“I love you Eddie-” you said, looking up at him as he smirked down at you before making his way towards the stove to make you breakfast.
“I love you more y/n, my beautiful wife..” he hummed out while your eyes stayed on him- the wide grin on your face as you just admired him.
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(A/n: I’m so sorry if this is short- I just felt like making the tiniest little shit blurb and I made it- also sorry if it’s kinda bad, I’m just very lazy and kinda out of it, but I also hope you liked it 😭)
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In A Rut (Monster!Hawks x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)
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Pairing: Keigo “Hawks” Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)
Synopsis: You haven't seen your boss around the office in a while ever since he started feeling "under the weather", but when you decide to visit him one day to cheer him up with some soup, you realize that this isn't a normal spring cold. Your boss is in heat and you, his good little assistant, are the only one who can help him cure it.
Warnings: Monsterfucking; Monsterfucker!Reader; Mild Power Play; Boss x Assistant; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Marking; Heat Symptoms; Hawks Has a Big ol’ Dick; Deepthroat; Cunnilingus; Sloppy, Rough Sex; Scent Play; Overstimulation; Ownership; Multiple Orgasms; Multiple Creampies; Multiple Positions; Cum Play; Aftercare
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer’s Note: Happy spring, y'all!! 💐💐🌼🌼🌻🌻 Fucking FINALLY winter & the cold is gone! Now that the weather is heating up, I wanted to write something about my favorite birdman suffering from heat. Enjoy! -Jazz
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You’re worried about Mr. Takami. 
Or “Hawks” as he’s told several of his employees, staff, and interns to call him around his agency time and time again. But as his personal assistant for over a year, you take respect and professionalism very seriously. 
Hawks is one of the most laidback bosses you’ve had in your professional career. He doesn’t make you fetch coffee unless you’re getting some for yourself, he’s flexible with deadlines, he lets you go home early despite the workload, and has all of his employees take off on Fridays…which he also pays for. 
Though it’s a nice change, you also can’t help but be wary of Hawks. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy. He is considerably nice––always greeting you in the mornings; checking up on you in the afternoons; letting you use his office when he isn’t in it, etc.
But he is also extremely cocky. It comes with the territory of being pro hero #2, you suppose, but the way he saunters into the office every Monday through Thursday in his designer clothes and Rolex watch always rubs you the wrong way. 
Not to mention he’s a humongous flirt. Your friend calls it being “overly friendly”. She also says he doesn’t flirt with any other woman at his agency like he does you. He always gives you those charming smiles that seem to irk you to no end and puts that flirty lilt in his voice when he speaks to you. Not to mention the constant compliments on your outfits and work that stick with you until the end of your shifts. 
Last week on Monday, the last day you saw him, was no different. You were sitting with your friend at your desk that morning, sipping on your iced coffee before the 9 AM meeting. Your friend was giving you the latest gossip on two employees hooking up in the stairwell during lunch last week when you both saw Hawks sauntering into the office. 
“Shh, shh!” she hushes you even though you didn’t say anything. She straightened up and smiled at your boss, bowing. “Good morning, Mr. Takami,” she chirps. The blonde, in his navy blue suit and red bottoms, gave you each a smile that lingered on you for too long. “Ladies,” he greets. 
You looked away, busying yourself by checking your email. “I’ve got your schedule and plans for today’s meeting for you,” your friend said, passing him a folder. “And your coffee, made by yours truly.” She nudged you, making you narrow your eyes at her. 
“Ah, thank you!” Hawks happily sighed. “And I told you before: just call me Hawks. I don’t need all of that ‘Mr’ shit.” His golden eyes then trailed down to you, his stare making you feel uncomfortable in your long-sleeve blouse. “Thank you, Ms. L/N,” he purrs. “See you at the meeting?” 
He gave you a wink, a hint at his joking manner, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was always picking on you like this. “I’m required to be there as your assistant so, yes,” you replied, blandly so.
He didn’t think anything of it. “Good,” he hummed happily. “I’ll need my right hand when I get tired of talking or my coffee doesn’t kick in fast enough. Carry on.” 
He gave you a flitting wink before walking off to his office for some time alone. Once gone, your friend fanned herself. “Oh, my God, he’s so fucking fine!” she groaned. You shushed her, hitting her arm. “Come on, his office is right there!” you hissed. “He might hear you!” 
“But isn’t he so fine?” your friend went on, ignoring your warning. “You have to admit that he’s fine!” You chose your words carefully, stirring your straw around in your coffee. “He’s…okay,” you weakly replied. “But he’s our boss! Whatever I think of him doesn’t matter.” At least you told yourself that. 
The meeting was about new anti-discrimination policies in workplaces and merging with UA High and Indeed to create a special job website for aspiring pro heroes and those with quirks. 
You sat across from Hawks and Rumi, his friend and co-owner of the agency, who sipped on her coffee free of cream and sugar. “Took you long enough,” she grumbled to Hawks. “What, you forget to fluff your feathers this mornin’ or somethin’?” 
You giggled to yourself at her joke before the meeting started. You met with Principal Nezu who happily bowed in front of the laptop personally set up to meet his eye level. “Good morning, everyone!” he exclaimed. “I appreciate all of you for your time today, including the Indeed associates, and for Hawks for allowing me to take you away from work for a moment. Now, Hawks, if you would like to share your opinion first?” 
The pro sat back in his chair, legs crossed and glasses perched on his eyes. You secretly liked it when he wore glasses. “I think it’s a perfect idea,” he said with a shrug. “As I’m sure all of you know, my agency is open to all new talent, whether they graduated from UA or not. We don’t discriminate against anyone with a particular quirk or education. As long as they are willing to learn, respect our rules, and participate in training, we will hire them.” 
“But what if the public has concerns about who we hire and whether they will be able to effectively do their jobs with no UA education or license?” one of the Indeed associates asked. Hawks smiled. “I’m glad you asked that.” He nodded at you, smiling warmly. “Y/N, would you mind answering this question? After all, it’s your wonderful brain that came out with such a well-thought-out plan for this.” 
Though you flushed at the compliment, you pushed those butterflies away and stood. “This agency is not new to the scrutiny of the public,” you explain, poised and calm. “Hawks and Nezu-san are proposing the opening of a new pro hero license program for those who cannot afford UA or are over the age of 18. This program would include…” You continued just as you rehearsed, not looking at Hawks who looked dead at you, almost as if he was staring through your clothes. 
When you finally finished, you sat and Nezu thanked you for your well-spoken words. “What is your opinion on that, Hawks?” he asked. The pro didn’t answer, too busy staring at you. Now his eyes were hooded and looked slightly sharper than they were before. You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, mostly because of how warm his stare made you. 
“Hawks!” Rumi hisses in his ear. The blonde blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?” he dumbly asked, looking up at the screen. “Are you alright?” Nezu worriedly asked. Everyone was staring at him, including you. He had never acted like this before. “Yeah, just…” He paused, clearing his throat as a flush appeared on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 
Nezu repeated himself, asking for Hawks’ opinion on the internship program and when he’d prefer to announce it. “It is the spring already, but I believe the summer is when most of my student body will be looking to do internships,” he explained. 
You watched as Hawks’ eyes grew wide at the mention of spring, but he did his best to keep it lowkey. But you noticed. “U-Uh, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll do it in April.” You also noticed his body language for the rest of the meeting: his knee bouncing anxiously; his eyes flicking from yours to back at the screen or down at his papers; his cheeks flushed red. 
Was he sick? Was it the coffee you made? After the meeting, Rumi confronted him on it, grabbing his elbow. “Hey, what the hell happened in there?” she asked. “You looked like you were about to deck Y/N!” 
“I…sorry,” he huffed. “I just…” He paused, seeing you and his eyes roamed over your lower body in your pencil skirt. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he quickly replied before rushing off to his office. You followed him. You don’t know why you did. Maybe you felt obligated to do so as if his assistant. Maybe you just needed to make sure he was okay. 
So you knocked on his door, tentatively so. “Come in,” he raggedly said. You opened the door and automatically closed it behind you. Hawks leaned against his desk, his back to you, breathing concerningly hard like he just got off the treadmill. 
“Mr. Takami?” you questioned. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you walked farther into his spacious, high-rise office. “Hawks, is everything alright?” Hawks didn’t look at you as he spoke: “Y-Yeah,” he replied, still sounding winded. “What’s up?” 
You stood two feet away from him, afraid to get near. You didn’t want to spook him or cross any boundaries. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be writing a ‘thank you’ email on your behalf to Nezu-san and the Indeed associates,” you lied though you were planning on doing that anyway.
But Hawks shook his head. “Don’t bother. You did a good job today, Y/N.” His voice sounded so off. It was usually light and syrupy, but now it sounded deep and raspy. It did things to you. 
“Did I do something wrong?” you blurted, confused at his strange behavior. The blonde quickly shook his head, turning slightly towards you. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms and the feather tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. “No, no, of course not!” he protested. “I’m just…not feeling well.” 
“Well, you know you can always go home,” you said. “We can hold down the fort here like we always do.” Finally, Hawks turned around and you saw how flushed he looked, his cheeks a rouge hue. He gave a smile that felt too intimate. Too adoring. “Thank you,” he sighed. “That’s so like you. Always so professional. Always so sweet.” 
He took a step toward you and instinctively, you took a step back. “M-Mr. Takami?” you weakly asked. He continued to walk to you until you finally stood with your back to the wall, unable to escape him. His cologne clouded your senses, the scent of sweet and spicy invading your nostrils as he stopped in front of you. 
“Y/N,” he began, his voice breathlessly and soft. “I…” He stopped, raising his hand to touch you. And then he stopped, dropping his hand and using it to cover his mouth instead. “I-I’m sorry,” he muffingly said. “You should go. I don’t wanna get you sick.” 
Quickly, he reached beside you with his free hand and opened the door. The sound of chatter, coffee machines, and ringing phones smacked you back to reality. “You should go,” he said, his eyes willing you to do so. So you did and he shut the door in your face, leaving you feeling breathlessly and hot. 
That was over a week ago. After the work day, Hawks headed home and sent out a staff meeting the next morning about being out because of a “spring cold”, but he’d be back soon. “Soon” hasn’t come yet. You haven’t heard anything from him in days! 
It’s starting to worry you. A spring cold can’t last this long. Is it the flu? Is it something else? Plus, no one can seem to get in contact with him. What if something bad happened to him? 
These worrying thoughts swim in your head all week every time you see Hawks’ empty office. 
Finally, you reach your breaking point. You’re not going to call, text, or email him. You’re going to be a good assistant and instead, bring him something to let him know that you’re checking on him. Something to make him feel better. So on Friday, you leave work after your shift and stop by your favorite cafe to buy a bowl of their best chicken noodle soup.
You then drive to Hawks’ penthouse on the Upper East side of the city having kept his address to deliver things from work to his house if need be. When you park your car, you walk to the front door and click a button to buzz to his room. At first, nothing happens, so you press it again. Finally, on the third buzz, someone answers. 
“Yeah?” a deep, raspy, growly voice barks. It startles you. “Uh…I’m sorry, do I have the wrong room?” you ask. “I’m looking for Keigo Takami.” The other end of the line pauses and you think that they left. “Y/N?” they ask, sounding shocked. “Why are you here?” 
You blink at the speaker, shocked that this is your boss talking to you. Why does he sound like that? Is he that hoarse? “I came to give you some soup,” you say, suddenly shy. “I haven’t heard from you in days, so I bought this just to let up your spirits. That must be some cold.” 
You wait for a response, but when he never gives it to you, you begin to feel stupid. This was a mistake. “Well, I’m gonna go now, but I’ll give it to your doorman so he can–” 
“Don’t,” Hawks interrupts though he still sounds strained. “Come up.” You scowl in confusion, wondering if you misheard that, but then his doorman is meeting you at the front door to guide you to the elevator up to Hawks’ penthouse with the soup. 
You take the elevator up, your heart pounding and your hands shaking slightly as they hold the soup. You almost explode from your nerves when you finally make it upstairs and the doors open, revealing Hawks’ beautiful, luxurious, and empty penthouse with an included gameroom, private gym, balcony, pool, mini bar, and expensive-looking kitchen. But he is nowhere to be found. 
You walk further into the living room, your heels clicking across the hardwood floor. “Hawks?” you call. You don’t get any answer right away. The home is uncomfortably silent, making you feel paranoid. “Hawks!” you call again, louder this time. “Where are you?” 
“Upstairs!” he rasps from the staircase leading to the upper floor. “Don’t come up here!” He sounds so pained. In such agony. You place the soup on the counter, confused and worried. What’s going on? Why does he sound like he’s in trouble? 
Not listening at all to your boss’ warning, you slowly head up the steps, taking each tentative step further up in your heels. The hallway is dark when you finally make it upstairs, the only door open being the one at the end of the hallway. It is cracked and through it, you hear the sound of your boss’ soft pants and grunts of pain. Hawks’ bedroom. 
Though something inside of you is telling you to turn around, you persevere and walk towards the bedroom. Slowly, you push the door open, revealing a dark masterbedroom with drawn curtains blocking out the outside world. “Hawks?” you tentatively question. “It’s just me. I just came to–” 
“Go away!” he bellows from inside. “I told you not to come up here!” You jump, startled by the volume of his voice. He’s never yelled at you in such a way. You poke your head inside and gasp at the absolute mess of his bedroom: furniture askew; clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor; a rumbled mess of red sheets on the bed.
The smell in the air is thick with sweat and something else. Something tropical. Coconut oil? You look towards the king-sized bed where a heap sits hunched under the sheets which move up and down as it pants heavily. You thought it was just a pile of clothes at first, but no. There’s something under there. 
“Hawks?” you question, your voice wavering in fear. The strange heap stirs, reacting to your voice. It breathes raggedly, almost as if it can’t get enough air in its lungs. “Hawks, what’s going on?” you demand. “Tell me. I want to help you.” 
But he turns away, the sheets shifting as he does. “You can’t,” he whines. “You can’t.” Not being able to take how he sounds anymore, you storm over to the bed and snatch the sheets off of him. There, under the covers, you see your boss with your own two eyes. “H-Hawks?” you whisper. “Is that you?” 
You almost can’t believe it. He has gotten much bigger in the past couple of days since you’ve last seen him, his muscles almost bulging. His pecs are ridiculously big, his nipples hard and perky, and veins protrude from his forearms and hands. Speaking of hands, they barely resemble human hands anymore. Red feathers sprout from his skin and long, sharp talons have grown out of his fingernails like knives. 
When he looks at you, his face is flushed and his eyes are nothing more than red slits, those warm, golden irises gone. But all of those things aren’t even the most shocking to you. You are more shocked by the size of his wings. They have doubled in size, nearly taking up the entirety of the bed, and are red as the purest blood. His feathers shake and ruffle as if someone has run their fingers through them, disturbing their peace. 
He looks shocked to see you and then embarrassed. “I didn’t want you comin’ up here,” he pants. “Didn’t want you seein’ me like…this.” He shifts and sits up so the sheet falls off of him, revealing his naked body to you. He is flushed and coated in sweat all over his tan skin and toned muscles. Your eyes trail down his abs and V-line to his cock which is way too obvious to look away from. 
He is big and throbbing, the head a blush red and dripping in precum. One mouth-watering, angry vein trails from his shaft up to the head of his cock that twitches. Hawks winces, not looking like he is enjoying this at all. In fact, he looks like he’s in complete agony. You can’t be embarrassed or mortified by this when he looks so awful. “W-What happened to you?” you softly gasp. 
He covers his throbbing dick with the sheet, but it’s no use. You can still see it protruding from underneath it, creating an obvious tent. “I’m in heat,” he sighs. “It’s what us mammals go through around this time. A spring thing.”
He wipes the sweat off of his forehead, his blonde hair soaked in it. “That’s why I’ve been hiding,” he explains. “I’ve been here tryna get through this, but I just…can’t!” 
He grabs at his hair, running his hands through it. Now you understand it: his absence; the transformation; the smell of coconut oil in the air. You feel yourself blush, feeling hot in your clothes. All of this because he’s horny?
“How long does it last?” you curiously ask, but you’re not even sure you want to know. Hawks sighs, looking doomed. “Either a day or months depending on if my heat is satisfied.” 
“Months?” you gasp. “Are you in pain?” 
Hawks’ face screws up, triggering something in your core. “Terrible, baby,” he groans, wrapping a hand around his cock, his talons long enough to curl around the entire thing...and he’s at least 12 inches. “I can’t even sleep. I’ve been up for days, sweatin’ through my sheets and tryin’ to cum as many times as I can.” He releases himself and looks down at his hands, clenching them. “But my hands don’t do it for me anymore and I broke my fuckin’ toy.” 
He nods at the fleshlight you didn’t even notice lying near his nightstand, completely broken in half. He completely tore that pussy out the frame, you realize in shock. What the fuck could he do to a real one? “O-Oh,” you exhale. 
“Yeah,” he sighs, running his hand down his sweaty face. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N, really. I didn’t want anyone seein’ me like this.” He looks away from you, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pains you. You find yourself not liking him like this: so utterly downtrodden and hopeless. “What can I do?” you blurt. 
He faces you, his slitted eyes widening. “What?” he gasps. “What do you–” 
“I wanna help you, Hawks,” you cut in, already taking off your cardigan to reveal your pretty, pink blouse underneath that you paired with a skirt. “What can I do to help you get through this?” 
He watches you, looking completely stunned and mortified, but his cock also twitches at the sight of your outfit. “No, no, baby, no,” he protests. “Y-You can’t…you don’t need to do this.” But you stand firm on your decision, refusing to leave him like this. “I know I don’t need to,” you firmly respond. “I want to. Just look at you! I can’t let you go on like this.” 
Hawks still doesn’t move, but his cock begins to leak pre for you, dripping down his thick thighs and onto the mattress. The sight is so lewd but so arousing, making your pussy throb indeciently in your panties. You shouldn’t be doing this. There are so many consequences you could face from this…but you also find that you don’t care right now. “Let me help you, Hawks,” you whisper. “Just tell me what I need to do to help you. I’m your assistant, after all.” 
A fire explodes behind Hawks’ eyes, lit with lust and need. A low growl leaves his chest and you find that he has fangs in his mouth. The sight scares and thrills you. “You wanna help me?” he asks in his low, deep voice. “Then take off your clothes.” 
You swallow hard, feeling like you just dry-swallowed a gigantic pill. You start with your blouse, your painted fingernails teasing the buttons before you begin to pop them open one by one. You expose your lacy bra to him, one of your favorites because of how it makes your breasts look: pretty, juicy, and appetizing with the lace trim of the cups adorning them. 
You peel off the blouse and let it fall to your feet. Hawks barely notices it, too busy staring dead at your chest. He slowly begins to pump his cock with his hand, lewd, wet sounds of his pre and coconut oil acting as lubricants drifting to your ears. Under his laser-eyed gaze, you feel like an animal being watched behind a cage. A specimen. It makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, but also hot and bothered to see that you’re affecting him so deeply. 
You then move to your skirt and begin to unzip it, but Hawks puts a hand out to stop you. “Slowly, mama,” he raggedly says. “Don’t rush this.” Biting your lip, you slowly drag the zipper down and then slide the skirt off of your waist, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. You go to take off your stockings and heels, but he stops you. “Leave ‘em on,” he demands. 
So you stand there, arms at your sides and trembling like a leaf. “Turn around,” he orders, his pink lips parted as he continues to fuck his hand nice and slow. You listen and turn, exposing your ass to him. “Ah, shit,” he hisses, soft pants leaving his lips. “I knew you had a nice ass.” 
You bite your lip, feeling your pussy flutter and throb impatiently. “Sit on the bed and bend over for me,” he orders. “I’m not gonna touch you. I just wanna see you rub that pussy for me, okay?” 
You turn around, staring down at your shoes. “Yes, sir,” you whisper and flush at your words. They just came out of you, as naturally as breathing. 
Hawks shudders, affected by your reply. “Such a good girl,” he sighs dreamily. “I’ll definitely take that over just ‘Hawks’ right now. But ‘Keigo’ works too.” Your face grows hot with a blush, having never referred to him by his first name before. Not wanting to waste his time, you slowly get on the bed and face away from him, your feet tucked under your butt. 
Then you bend over for him, your back arched. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, softly panting and the move bouncing slightly from his ministrations on himself. “Pull those panties to the side, baby. Let me see you.” Biting your lip so hard that you’re sure to draw blood, you pull the thin strip of cotton covering your sodden, wet, puffy pussy to the side and expose all of you to him. 
Hawks shudderingly moans at the sight of the wet strand of your arousal connected from your pussy lips to your panties. “God, mama,” he groans. “You have the prettiest pussy. Look how wet you are!” He growls once more, sounding so much like an animal. “You like what you’re doin’ to me?” You can tell he’s started to stroke himself harder, faster, his pants and heavy breaths becoming more intense. “Keigo,” you softly whimper. 
You’ve never been this horny before. Your pussy is about to slide off the bone with how wet it is. 
“That’s right, say my name,” he groans. “Play with your pussy, baby. Don’t let me do this alone.” 
So you do. You sneak your hand down your ass, teasing him before you begin to rub your cunt for him in time with his strokes. A weak moan leaves your lips as you rub your clit in tiny, firm circles, your ministrations impassioned by the sounds leaving Hawks’ lips. He sounds so desperate. So slutty as he pumps his cock, imagining that he’s doing so to your pretty, little pussy. “So fuckin’ cute,” he says, agonized at your beauty and sexiness. “How the fuck are you this adorable?” 
You want to look back and see him, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t want to be watched, so you instead close your eyes and drift away at the sounds of his moans and his lubed cock fucking his hand, making the bed bounce slightly underneath you. You imagine that he’s fucking you like that, his big hands gripping your ass and talons digging into the fleshy part of your ass cheeks. You can almost feel his cock stretching you out, pumping you full again and again as he uses you, doing his best to not break you like he did his fleshlight. 
Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “K-Keigo!” you whine. “Fuck, I’m about to cum!” Hawks groans at your warning, happy to hear this. “Uh-huh,” he pants. “Do it for me, baby. Cum all over those fingers for me.” 
And you do. You rub and flick your clit until it can’t take any more stimulation and explodes all over your hand. Your sweet moans of release push Hawks over the edge. “Fuck!” he bellows, his voice bouncing off of the walls as he cums in his hand, shooting warm cum all over his thighs and stomach. Your moans and whines mix with one another, creating a symphony of pleasure as you both cum together. 
When the high of your orgasms finally fades, you both sit there for a moment, panting and sitting in the reality of your situation. “I…I’m sorry,” Hawks awkwardly huffs.
You don’t answer, unsure of what to say until you turn around and find that he’s still hard. “Keigo!” you gasp. “Y-You’re still–” 
“I know,” he sighs, frustration evident in his handsome face. “Like I said, my hands ain’t doin’ it for me at this point. I need more.”
His slitted eyes, red as crimson blood, narrow at you, a deeper meaning in his words. You gulp, weighing your options but only briefly. You realize you’re thinking more with your pussy than with your head, but the curiosity of feeling Hawks’ wings wrapped around you while he fucks you is too tempting. 
“Keigo, it’s okay,” you softly purr, putting a hand on his thigh. He flinches as if your touch burns him. “We can do more if you need it.” You then dip your fingers between your thighs and come back with them dripping in your cum. His cock twitches at the sight, but he doesn’t have to imagine how you taste for too long. 
You lean forward and put your fingers to his lips. “Use me,” you say, a plea in your voice. “I’m all yours.”
Right then, something in Hawks snaps the moment he wraps his lips around your fingers and greedily sucks your cum off of them. He is no longer entirely human, his animal instincts taking over. He snatches you up and places you in his lap, emitting a small gasp from you at being yanked up so forcefully. “Just tell me ‘no’ if you want me to stop,” he orders. “And tap my thigh three times if I got my cock in that mouth. Understand me?” 
Unable to reply, you wordlessly nod. That’s enough for him. Immediately, he’s on you, pressing a rough yet passionate kiss to your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip and swirling his tongue with yours. His kiss is brutal yet hot; forceful yet careful as he wraps you up in his arms and soft wings. It’s the best kiss you’ve had in your life. 
And the sex he gives you by far trumps all of the other bedroom adventures you’ve had. You’re so glad he gave you a non-verbal safety precaution because Hawks takes the “use” thing literally when he finally gets his dick down your throat. He is as big and thick as he looks, your fingers barely being able to wrap around his girty, throbbing shaft. 
You have to cover his cock in copious amounts of spit and coconut oil just to make it easier to stroke him, Hawks’ crimson, lustful eyes and soft moans encouraging you. “That’s it, baby bird,” he growls, one clawed hand in your hair. “Take me nice and easy.” Though he allows you to slowly take his cock down your throat, it doesn’t do much to ease the stretch of your jaw. 
Unfortunately for you, Hawks’ heat gets the best of him and his impatience rises, making your time to adjust to his size shorter. When he grabs your hair and begins to fuck your face, you have no choice but to take it. He shoves his cock so deep down your throat that your eyes burn with tears and embarrassing, wet gagging sounds leave your mouth as you gurgle around his cock that throbs and pulses in your mouth. 
“Thaaat’s my girl,” Hawks grunts, staring down at you throating his dick. “You’re takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird, y’know. You could make this a profession if workin’ as an assistant don’t work out.” He takes his cock out and taps it against your tongue, loving how slutty you look for him with your tongue hanging out and makeup a mess. 
“Or you could add this to your duties of bein’ my little assistant,” he hums, smearing his cockhead across your plump lips. “You could fetch my coffee and take this dick over my desk every workday. How would that sound?” He doesn’t allow you to answer as he grabs you again and forces you down onto his cock, groaning at how amazing your wet tongue and soft mouth feel. “God!” he groans. “I hope your pussy is this fuckin’ tight.” 
His curiosity gets the best of him. After a few minutes of fucking your throat like it’s a toy, he pulls out with a moan, giving you heart eyes at the image of your messy hair and sloppy mouth dripping in spit. He holds your face in his big hands, his talons gently caressing your cheeks. “On your back,” he orders. You must go too slow for him because he tosses you down onto your backside himself and quickly ducks between your thighs, his big, feathered hands parting them. 
“K-Keigo,” you stammer, but that’s all you can get out before he’s cutting the waistband of your panties off with his teeth and sliding his big, fat, wet tongue all over your slit.
All words cease to exist as pleasure washes over you which only builds the more his tongue swirls against your clit and inside of you. Your eyes widen and your hands dig into the skin of his muscular back that flexes as he dips his head low to eat you out. His soft wings caress your skin as they wrap around you, making you feel like you’re being pampered from all ends. 
Hawks knows how to run his mouth, but also knows how to work it. His tongue moves magically inside of you, slurping up your juices as his nose and soft lips bump against your clit. You grind your hips up into him, meeting his tongue thrusts while his talons dig into the fleshy parts of your ass.
You can’t keep quiet, too enveloped in the ecstasy you’re feeling. “God, yes, Keigo!” you whine, bucking your hips up. “That feels so fuckin’ good! Keep going, please, ooooh, shit!” 
Hawks gladly takes all of those lovely sounds, moaning into your cunt. He is a rapid, ravenous animal, slurping up your pussy like he’s yearning for it. “So good,” he whines into your clit. “So fuckin’ good.” 
Your orgasm comes rather quickly, that knot in your core threatening to snap as he continues to work his tongue in and out of you. “Fuck, Kei!” you sob. “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum! Please let me cum, sir please!” 
“Mmm-hmm,” Keigo hums, sucking gently on your pussy lips. “Do it for me, baby bird. Cum all over my fucking face.” He goes back to eating you out, moving his tongue against that little spot up and inside of you that makes you see stars. “Do it,” he growls in his deep, gravelly voice. “Fuckin’ cum for me. Give it to me now!” 
A scream erupts from you–”Oh, shit!”–as you explode all over Hawks’ tongue. He moans in release with you as he slurps and laps you up, drinking in all that give him while you buck and writhe under his hands. Even when the orgasm high fades, he doesn’t stop. He continues to eat you out even as your pussy and body twitches. “O-Okay, Hawks,” you stammer. “Please, ah, please stop. I-I can’t…oh, my God!” 
Tears prick your eyes as the agonizing pleasure continues, swallowing you whole. His crimson eyes stare up into yours between your thighs, loving how desperate and pathetically horny you look as you writhe against his tongue. But as good as you taste, he needs to know how you feel. So he hikes himself up on top of you, his big body covering your smaller one, and his wings creating a curtain around you. 
“I’m gonna be honest with you, baby,” he pants. “I need to fuck you now and when I do, I ain’t gonna be nice. I need to cum as many times as it takes to ease this heat and that could be hours. You sure you’re okay with that?” Despite his obvious need, he is holding back, his cock throbbing against your thigh. 
Knowing that, you nod and press a kiss to his lips. “Yes, Keigo,” you purr. “I want this too.” You give him a smile, pretty and seductive. “So fuck me.”
The pro doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts by fucking you on your back, your knees tucked up into your chest. You’re happy for the lubricant and orgasm because it is a stretch. His cock stretches your pussy out in a way it didn’t do to your jaw, making your mouth go slack and your eyes widen. “Relax, mama,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your face while he rubs your clit. “You’re doin’ so well takin’ me.” 
After a few minutes of adjusting and slow strokes, Hawks feels you relax around him and finally begins to pound you like he needs to. He fucks you into the mattress that shakes and bounces beneath you, making your tits bounce in time with his thrusts. Each pump of his thick cock sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body as your soft, spongy pussy walls stretch and mold into his shape. 
“O-Oh, my God!” you cry, grasping his shoulders as he takes you straight to poundtown. “Fuck, Keigo, yes, baby! Fuck me just like that!” 
The winged pro grips your thighs and pins them down to the bed, giving you a stretch that yoga couldn’t even do. “Just like that?” he teasingly asks, smirking down at you. “Look at you takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird. Bet you couldn’t wait for your boss to fuck you, huh?” 
You whine in response, earning a tongue shoved in your mouth as Hawks gives you a wet French kiss while he pounds into you. He nuzzles his nose into your neck next, covering himself in your scent and you in his.
You’re so deep in the pleasure that you don’t even realize that Hawks’ feathers, sharpened to the touch, cut off your bra until you feel the cool air on your nipples and then pleasure as he stimulates them with his feathers. 
When he begins to get closer, his crimson eyes glow red and the black rimming his eyes grows sharper like a hawk’s. You feel scared yet aroused at the same time, your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Gonna fill you up. Want you to fuckin’ cum with me too!” 
“Fuck, Hawks!” you whine, tossing your head back against the pillow. Your second orgasm erupts and sends you on a trip while Keigo fucks you like he’s trying to hit a home run. When he cums, he does so with an animalistic grunt and grips your hips so hard that they bruise. He tosses his blonde hair back, every muscle in his body tense from the pleasure. You gasp as he fills you up with his cum, feeling warmth flooding inside of you. It feels good to be full, you realize. 
But even when the orgasm fades and he has successfully filled you up, Hawks looks down at you with an increased level of need and lust that shakes you. “I ain’t done with you yet,” he growls. 
And he’s not. He fucks you in every single position imaginable. He fucks you doggy style, his cock pumping into you again and again while he yanks on your hair and dirty talks in your ear.
“You my little slut?” he pants, his hand grabbing and smacking your ass. “You love gettin’ fucked by me? You love this number 2 pro hero dick, don’t you, baby?” You can only whine in response, words and logical thoughts completely gone as he turns your pussy into mush. 
He fucks you on your side, his big body spooning yours and red wings wrapped around you as his throbbing cock drives inside of you. In this position, it’s easier to rub your clit and tilt your head back to kiss him, the two of you sharing breath as you hotly pant and moan into each other’s mouths. 
He fucks you with your head hanging off the bed and your leg pinned up to get a better angle at your G-spot and to drive himself deeper into you. 
He fucks you in mating press, his feet on the bed as he mounts you and drives himself inside of you like he’s trying hard to breed you. 
He fucks you in full nelson. 
In prone bone, his hands massaging your ass. 
While standing up, you bouncing like a cute little fuck bunny in his arms on his dick. 
From the bottom while you ride him, both from the front and the back, his hands groping your bouncing tits and jiggling ass. 
“Mine,” he growls to you in every position known to bed that he puts you in. “You’re fuckin’ mine, baby bird. Only mine.” 
And in every single position, he makes you and himself cum. He seems to always know how to trigger your orgasm so you cum again and again. He then uses your tight walls to chase his orgasms, cumming inside of you and filling up over and over again. He makes you sweat out your hair and your makeup, making you look like the sexiest Goddess to him as you take his cock like it’s your job. 
By the time he finally finishes, hours have passed and you are spent. Your body aches. You are wet with sweat and cum. Your pussy twitches and is sloppy with his and your cum mixed together, all of it dripping down your thighs and through the crack of your ass. 
Hawks, finally back to his normal self, lies down next to you and snuggles you into his chest. “Thank you for doin’ that,” he sighs, pecking you on the forehead. “You did so, so well for me, honey. I hope a dinner date can make up for that workout.” 
You only mewl tiredly in response, but you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. He chuckles, the sound pleasant to your ear pressed against his heart. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighs.
And then you sleep, satisfied and comfortable finally. 
THE END. 
119 notes · View notes
simplydnp · 3 days
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hey there!
I kind of consider you the resident dnp expert (at least in dnp culture) so I wanted your opinion on a question that's been building for a while now.
What are the boundaries for dnp now?
There are so many things that I feel have changed even in the last four years: writing smutty rpf was Gross and Weird, along with art along that line, speculating about their relationship was ABSOLUTELY a no-go, all things that I see happening on Tumblr now. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing!! I'm just acknowledging things have changed over time. They're different people now and so are we, and the "we know you know" era is lots of fun.
I was browsing reddit today (bad idea, do not recommend) and came across a post from a new Phannie asking if DnP were in a relationship. And while I agree that we cannot say for absolute certain that they are, the responses had a VERY different vibe than on here, emphasizing how bad the speculation was (true) and essentially saying "don't even think about that, just enjoy their content." (or something to that extent.)
Which... is very different from this here website in which we joke about them being horney for each other constantly lmao.
Being a very rules-driven person, I like expectations to be made abundantly clear for pretty much everything. So that's why I want to ask: Is there a line here? Are we crossing that line? How defined is that line? (All of this, of course, I recognize is your opinion and yours alone, and if this is posted I encourage anyone else to share their two-cents in a respectful way.)
Obviously, trying to find out where they live/things like that is very clearly crossing a boundary. But is there some sort of limit or boundary I (and tbh the rest of the phandom), in your opinion, should be keeping in mind?
thanks xx
hi!
'resident expert' is a hefty title, i'm just here trying my best!
'what are the boundaries for dnp now?' is really a great question. cause the thing is, we used to know. there used to be a fairly well-defined and mostly agreed upon line, and ever since the dapg revival in particular, the line keeps moving.
i'll be honest, i never really saw phanfic as rpf, even though it is. my stance on phanfic is the same as dnps: it's a beautiful expression of art and creativity and is so, so important. they've always been pro-fic (even though we subjected them to some absolutely horrific crack fics), so i don't think 'smutty' fic has ever been gross or too far. they've given their blessing, and, as the conversation has been in fandom communities the last few years, rpf isn't 'for' the people in them, it's for the fans. so i digress.
art is much the same way. they love art! they even included art of them kissing in a tumblr tag video back in the day, so to say that's not allowed especially after they're out is kind of crazy to me.
i think the line with stuff like that was showing it directly to dnp--tagging them in explicit stuff, that kind of thing. but creating it? go for it! it's always been a green light. (i think fans have previously overpoliced this and we lost a lot of great fic, art, and community members over it)
browsing reddit is always a Choice. i've never participated on dnp reddit before but i am aware that it is an entirely different space than here. something that's important, i think (and i think you think this too as you're asking about them), is to respect the fandom rules of the place you partcipate in. tumblr is generally one of the most phan-positive places on the internet, especially publicly facing. we make a lot of relationship jokes, particularly because we run on the assumption it's already true, based on what they've both said publicly (mostly dan).
i won't comment on reddit specifically just because i'm not a part of the community there, but the speculation about dnp online was a Lot for a long time. but the worst part of it was the stalking, the digging into personal lives, the contacting family members--that is what was bad. dnp have always had a connection--and, honestly, they kind of love flexing it and kind of always have. they absolutely play into things now, but they certainly did even way before coming out too. i think a certain level of speculation was to be expected, especially in that era of online fandom. but it wasn't just the 'teenage girls' who cared, the media did too, and so did many others.
i think one of the biggest differences now is 1 the awareness of 'our' past and trying to make up for it, and 2 the broader societal conversations about parasocial relationships.
you see this reflected on the snippets ive seen from dnp reddit and dnp twitter. they tend to be Very 'cautious' about the words they say, often undercutting perfectly reasonable statements with 'but whatever their relationship is'. on one hand, they don't want to cross a line, and i can respect that. on the other hand... it's 2024 babes. they just put out merch of them holding hands. dan's directly, intentionally, and explicitly called phil a bottom on dapg. they reacted to all of the pinofs, made jokes about 'theyre touching', and even joked about the tackle being 'wrestling 👀'. dan posted half-naked catboy pics and showed us phil was taking them. the 'watch your step babygirl' tweet & their reactions to it. phil is credited in WAD. they're making threesome jokes about themselves as a unit. i could go on and on.
to me, there's a few things that have 'moved the line' for us, so to speak.
1 - DAPG returning. for the last few years they specifically were not a duo (for projects) anymore. (and no, not because they hated each other). they just weren't. they wanted to focus on their goals and projects. they didn't have to resurrect dapg, but they chose to. marketing and money aside, they knew that if this went over well, it would well and truly revive the 'dan and phil' brand again. it would be specifically returning to being a duo in the public eye. (however they've also fully embraced this in all aspects, including merch, videos, and general attitude)
2 - pinof reacts. even though they'd been out since 2019, we hadn't had regular joint content from them since before that, therefore, while they had become more comfortable with themselves and their 'outness', we hadn't (in terms of them making explicit gay jokes together). so i really think dnp had to de-fang a lot of the 'theyre touching' of it all, because we didn't really know where we stood on it anymore. i think they succeeded, too. we couldn't be here, with the content of the last 3 months, without them tackling it head on (well, as head on as they're want to do).
3 - dapc. genuinely another big shift. they did this for the real fans. purely a passion project, and a specific choice in doing the handhold. they know what we're like. and this wasn't a brief, unplanned, unscripted moment. it's a specifically blocked out scene. they know it's opening a door, and they chose to. this is doubled by the fucking iconic merch selling, and furthered by phil's twitter likes of arguably romantic phanart, and then dan's full straddle like.
even throughout the current 6 months of revival, the line has moved. i don't know where it will settle. dnp keep moving it, in my opinion, and, genuinely, i don't think it's going to leave much to the imagination. as you say, obviously not the stalking or the contacting, but beyond that? especially here on tumblr? i wouldn't get too worried. obviously people will have their opinions, but as long as you're generally respectful and recognize that humans will see your posts and humans interact with them, i think you're good.
my rule of thumb is anything they intentionally put on the table, we can joke about or at the same level. but in terms of art/fic? go off, live your dreams. dan and phil would want you to.
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poopypeepyp · 2 days
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jean-paul and tim fighting in the batcave is what fandom thinks happened between jason and tim
it's so funny to me that fanfiction version of titans tower incident (teen titans 2003 #29) is basically what canonically happened during knightquest the crusade (tec #668 and robin #1)
tim is actually 14 years old so it was a fight between an actual kid and adult instead of two teenagers
tim is beaten up in his safe place by an ally who he used to have positive feelings about (i mean it was tim who broke in and sneaked around the batcave so i don't blame jpv for self-defense!)
tim is annoyed that he worked so hard to become robin only to be shut down by jean-paul and now having to prove himself to him (didn't go well)
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(detective comics #668/showcase '93 #11)
tim sasses jean-paul
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(detective comics #668/bloodbath special #1)
jean-paul strangles tim lol
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(detective comics #668/robin 1993 #1)
jean-paul intends to kill tim? probably? not really? i mean he kind of threatens to later in knightsend but he is in a silly goofy mood
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(detective comics #677)
jean-paul immediately regrets attacking tim and is very sorry and sad wet cat (tim is not buying it (angsty))
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(robin 1993 #1)
jean-paul is not in full control of himself because of The System
The System is "lazarus pit rage" except it's a religious programming and instead of seeing green jean-paul hallucinates a templar knight telling him to be batman or something
the strangling incident has lasting consequences not only on their relationship but the plot too (tim can't shut up about it)
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(batman #506/#507/#508)
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(catwoman 1993 #31)
tim and dick become closer after that (also dick hates jp's guts lol)
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(showcase '93 #11/#12/detective comics #681)
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(batman: gotham knights #14 the issue is called sibling rivalry btw. you know)
also in his azbats era jean-paul thinks he is so much better and effective than bruceman (while he is actually having a mental breakdown) and bruce feels very responsible for how he fucked up jp's psyche and deems him one of his biggest mistakes (jp and batman angst real)
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(azrael 1995 #1/#2/#36 look at him he's so sad)
after knightsend jean-paul feels very guilty and becomes a better person while struggling with mental health and The System (and fights evil cult that manipulated him with his new friends)
also i personally believe none of this would have happened if tim didn't give jean-paul a bad haircut
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(batman #491)
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divinesangel · 20 hours
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— 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮?
pm me for an affordable, in-depth personal reading!
— 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!
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— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏
this person envies you for being very attractive + attracting many people. i see that this person feels quite bad about the situation you are going through right now, and it seems that part of their envy has to do with how you attract others, even without intending to do so consciously. this person feels that you have always had many opportunities that they have not had and they feel as if they are in a situation of no return, as if they have hit rock bottom and do not know how to come back outward. they see you as someone who has always had many opportunities and who has always been able to do what they wanted because of it, something that this person has not been able to do in their life or has not felt that they have been able to. in addition to that, i feel that this person is capable of seeing that there are other people very interested in you, very interested in how you handle yourself, in how you are, and who are interested in being with you, and that is something that makes them feel quite insecure. i feel they have been able to realize that there are people who look at you a lot, and in particular, i see that there is a person who has realized that there is another person who is quite interested in you, and they have ended up feeling quite bad about it. perhaps this person has had feelings for this other person, and that's why they feel this way, but they can see that there is something about you that attracts others and makes them like you, and it makes them feel very victimized or like they are victims of the circumstances surrounding them. they see you as a very independent person, someone who could have anyone they wanted, and that makes them feel insecure because they feel they are not that type of person, and even if they tried, they could not achieve it. your energies are completely different, as is the way you express yourselves to others. they are also able to see that you are a very sensitive person and someone whom people treat very well. and there is something here about you having more opportunities than them, which is what mainly makes them feel quite bad. and for many of you, i do not think they are job opportunities or material opportunities, but opportunities in terms of love or friendships. they feel that you are superior to them, and they are not comfortable with that.
— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐
in this case, i see a feminine energy that doesn't seem to harbor much animosity toward you. i feel that in the past, this person may have been attracted to you and may have thought that you could be good friends or just get along well, but that changed and took a downturn. i see that this has to do with a guy who may have been involved with you or with her. if you haven't had anyone or haven't been in a relationship recently, it could be that this person was interested in someone and that person didn't pay much attention to her, but did to you. i definitely think it's someone you know, but apart from that, i see that this person has changed quite a bit in terms of their feelings toward you, and i feel that in the past you got along well or at least this person had good intentions toward you, and that changed completely and turned into something not very pleasant. i feel that this has to do with some relationship since i keep seeing that guy i mentioned earlier. i feel that your name was mentioned in a conversation within her circle, and that changed her opinion of you. besides that, i feel that part of her envy has to do with seeing you as a very charismatic person who also gives a lot to others, meaning you're always there for others and are very compassionate with everyone, and that's something that repels them. in this person's mind, they feel that life hasn't treated them very fairly, and they feel very conflicted about it. they feel like they're still finding their place in the world and need that intimate connection with someone. something they haven't been able to have and they think you do with the people you know. this person feels hurt by something that happened between you and another person and it's eating away at them.
— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑
there's someone in your circle who envies you because of all the things you've achieved so far. it seems to be related to work, maybe from your professional sphere, or perhaps someone you study with. undoubtedly, it's someone you know. and this person might be experiencing feelings of dissatisfaction or jealousy because of your success and abilities, which could lead them to act somewhat unfairly or confrontationally towards you. furthermore, i feel like this person might be driven by competition or the desire to surpass you in some way. they feel somewhat inferior to you and feel like they should be in your position. they feel like they have to prove themselves all the time in order to get to your level and feel sort of like enough, not even for other people, but for themselves. i feel like this is someone that you hold some affection for. i don't think that you guys are that close, but i do see that you may have helped this person in the past, or you just may have had some affections for them. i feel like things were good at the beginning, but for some reason they started feeling less secure with the things that they had, and they just felt like you were sort of like a rival that they have. they definitely see you as someone quite powerful, and this is not in terms of power dynamics, but more of the way that you portray yourself, and also how well you do your stuff. i feel like they're very intimidated by that, and that creates conflicts within them. they feel kind of torn apart by how they're feeling, and i feel like sometimes it hurts them that they feel this competitive towards you, but it's not something that they can avoid since it stems from their own insecurities. i also feel like this is a feeling that comes and goes, so it's not like that all the time, but it's definitely kind of damaging for them.
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𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭
hi! it's daphne here.
i'm currently offering personal readings for €5 ($5.43) so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!
thank you for being here!
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vincentbriggs · 2 days
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Hello! I'm trying to draw something for a friend. Both of our characters live in the late 1720s. They both have regular outfits, but I want to draw them wearing something fancy. My friend has described his character as having a very bad sense of fashion. I can't really picture what a bad outfit back then would look like. Do you?
Hello! Well I haven't got all that much of a feel for what might have been considered a bad outfit back then, but there is one image that immediately comes to mind of someone who's very definitely badly dressed, and it's this guy. From the 4th panel of Hogarth's Marriage A la Mode (1743-45).
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His individual garments look fine to me, but they're horribly mismatched! (And a bit old fashioned for the mid 40's.) You'll note that the coat cuffs are made of a large brocade that contrasts with the main body of the coat, which was very popular in the first half of the century, but that style was meant to be worn with a matching waistcoat in the same brocade. Instead he's got a completely plain waistcoat that doesn't match at all.
And the breeches should match the main coat fabric, but his don't! The black and brown and beige clash awfully. He's also got a lot more rings and a much bigger & sparklier earring than I've seen on any other guy from the era, which I speculate might have been tack and/or un-masculine, but I have no sources so don't quote me on that. I just know that when 18th century guys are wearing rings in a portrait it's usually just one, and I've only ever seen simple little hoop earrings in a very few portraits. But again, emphasis on the "speculate" part of that sentence.
(And I've just noticed that the guy next to him has curling papers in his hair, which I think is probably also meant to make him look silly and not properly dressed. No idea what the opinion would have been about the folding fan dangling from the wrist of the next guy over, but it is intriguing. The very large beauty spot on his lip is probably meant to look bad though.)
That painting is a bit later than what you're asking about, but the style of matching cuffs & waistcoat was popular in the 20's too, so here are some examples of what it's supposed to look like. A lot of them are very elaborate brocades paired with a solid dark coloured velvet, but sometimes it's a contrasting plain fabric with a ton of metal embroidery.
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(1725)
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(1723)
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And an extant c. 1730's example from the NMS collection.
You might also look at 1710's images, because being a decade behind the current fashions would certainly make you badly dressed for the era.
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(c. 1715-20)
So, I guess just put them in clashing parts of 2 or 3 different matched suits? (I am assuming you're asking about suits, since this ask was sent to me and I do not know very many things about dresses. Mostly only what I absorb from other costumers who post about it, and barely anyone does early 18th century.)
Please note that this does not apply to the 1780's-90's, fashion plates from those decades are incredibly full of clashing and mismatched suits. (Though it would probably still be bad to wear those ones on a very formal occasion.)
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entitled-fangirl · 12 hours
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One happy marriage.
Benedict Bridgerton x wife!reader
Summary: the reader lies about something important and finally breaks down to tell her husband about it.
Masterlist
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"I have started our marriage with the most audacious lie, Benedict!"
He looked up from his sketchbook with a curious look, "Whatever are you talking about, my dear?"
Y/N covered her mouth with a quiet sob. The lie was eating at her every day and she knew sooner or later the truth would reveal itself. Too bad she revealed it on her own.
Benedict frowned and stood quickly. He raced towards her and sat down cautiously on the sofa next to her. One arm gently pulled her to him, "Darling? I'm sure whatever it is can be forgiven."
She shook her head quickly and spoke through hiccups, "No…. It's unspeakable. Pl… please don't leave me."
This started to worry the poor man.
His hands gently ran up and down her arms, "I promise you, my dear. Whatever has happened, we will be as we are now."
She pulls away from him and wipes her eyes. "I am so sorry, Benedict."
He felt his heart break at the sight of her tears and pleads. "You must tell me what has troubled you this badly."
She shakes her head again, "I don't know if I can."
Benedict sighs.
He was a Bridgerton. And Bridgertons are nothing if not stubborn.
He gently takes her face in his hands. "How then, darling, am I to help fix this issue if I do not know of it?"
She stared up at him. How could she deny him? He was her heart. "I… I have lied to you so dreadfully."
He nods in thought, "Alright?"
She takes a deep breath, "I am an artist."
Benedict's head tilts. "Oh."
She looks up at him to gauge his reaction. "When we were courting, you asked if I was an artist. I said no. I… I lied to you."
He nods again with his lips in a tight line, "Yes. So you did."
She felt awful.
Silence fell over the two before Benedict broke it, "And your work?"
Her head perked up. "My work?"
He gave a slight smirk, "Yes, my dear, your work."
She nodded, "The… the paintings in the parlor… I lied. I do not collect them… I ma... I made all of those."
Benedict smiled widely. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he leaned forward and kissed the crown of her head, "I know."
She stiffened. "What?"
He leaned back and his smile only grew, "I knew, darling. I've always known. I was waiting for you to tell me."
Now it was her turn to feel a bit speechless.
Benedict continued, "I understand why you lied. Those pieces are gorgeous, and the last thing you wanted was your courter... well... your husband... to feel… lowly of his own work-"
"-but your work is lovely, Ben." She quickly interrupted.
"Ah, yes, but not like yours, my dear."
"But how did you know?"
He shrugged, "John Marques is not a real painter." He leaned close to her ear, "And yet, his name is on every plaque in the house."
She let out a laugh so happy, Benedict swore he had never heard one that matched.
She jumped into his lap and held him close.
And he was beyond happy to hold her so near.
He pulled away just to kiss her.
They could feel each other's smiles as their lips pressed together.
She broke away, just close enough to feel his breath on her lips, "And you truly aren't upset at me?"
He laughed, "How could I be? My very own wife, a most talented painter? How on earth could I ever be upset? I'm the happiest husband in the ton!"
Two artists make one happy marriage.
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yuri-is-online · 2 days
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Sorry for making you explain all the yutus but can you do Jades? Bros gotta be so overprotective 😬
Jokes on you I am always down to talk about Jade Leech (my beloved)
notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. I think I typed up way more for this than anyone else up to this point, I'd apologize but it has been a second since I brain rotted about Jade, so excuse me for feeding myself (づ_ど)
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Put yourself in Jade's shoes for a second.  He is a merfolk from the coral sea, only able to appear human through the use of a potion but still retaining his inhuman features.  He tries hard to appear human, he goes to a boot camp where so many things have to be explained that he is able to mimic but doesn't fully understand.  There's no reason for you to like him, he knows that better than anyone; he doesn't fully understand why he's attracted to you himself but he is.  And he longed after you for so long, he was drowning in his desire that had such a little chance of being reciprocated but by some miracle it was.  You stay in Twisted Wonderland, you let him take you under the sea and agree to be kept there.  You're going to give him a family, he's beyond excited and filled with feelings of love he didn't think he'd ever get to have.
And then it's gone.  There's no evidence as to why, no one to tell him where you went.  Azul starts off confident, excited at the prospect of revenge and encouraging Jade.  They'll find them, between him, Jade, and Floyd they'll find Yuu and someone will have a very bad day.  But there's nothing, they're being lied to and stonewalled at every turn and when finally (it's been 10 months 3 weeks and two days, he could count down to the hours and seconds but who would listen?) Riddle of all people contacts them with a lead, he's dead almost immediately.  Turned into a phantom, all of those friends of yours he was so jealous of too… no one is telling him but he knows.  You're not coming back, he's never going to meet your child, he failed at a moray's one job of protecting his cleaner shrimp.  When he's alone he talks to you both sometimes, nights when you can see the stars are becoming increasingly rare as the sky flares up with ink but he likes to think you found your way up to the sky.  
When he loses Floyd and Azul he sort of loses his will to live.  The only thing that keeps him going is the promise of one day being able to lay them both to rest eventually, but until then he bar tends at NRC and listens to all the little things people talk about when the world is ending. If he was in a better place he'd probably find it funny how lose people's lips are getting, Azul’s business would be doing so well if he were here now…
That's what he's doing one day in September when one of the mage students runs up to him out of breath, Sherish he thinks her name is?  
“The headmage needs you in the hospital wing!”  She sounds scared, out of breath like she's run the whole way and Jade is just curious enough to go.  Something spurs him on to run himself, through the mirror and into the wing and-  
He doesn't even hesitate, his body acts before his brain does launching him towards you and grasping desperately at your hands.  They're cold, you're going cold and he doesn't have the warmth in his body to give you.  Something has mercy on him and let's your eyes open just the bit as you reach just as desperate to be close to him as he is to you and he feels your strength pass into him.  
“Don't apologize.”  He manages to whisper.  
“But I'm sorry.”  You cry.  “I love you so much and I couldn't forget even though they wanted me to.”  
“Who did this.  Who took you just name them and I promise you my pearl-”  he gets to kiss you one more time before your gone.  Jade doesn't move, he thinks Crewel is yelling for his attention but he can't move, he wants to stay here forever he has to protect you, why wasn't he able to protect you?!
“Oh holy fuck that tastes bad.”  There's a dazed voice Jade has never heard before, heavy with sorrow, and though he doesn't quite have it yet, Jade feels purpose begin to return to his heart.
Jade! Yutu is a menace.  I like the idea of him being some form of punk or goth, with piercings and a few tattoos that Yuu doesn't know anything about.  He grew up with a small group of close knit alt friends who would come over to Yuu's house and shoot the shit.  Yuu was really popular with Yutu's friends actually, he had mixed feelings about that. (No, his parent isn't accepting step-father applications, Joshua, keep running your mouth and see what happens)
Has a mixed ranged of emotions about his parent's amnesia. When he was younger not knowing who his dad was made him really sad, he'd listen to other kids talk about doing things with their fathers and he'd dream about doing them with his dad, but the picture was always blurry and felt just... wrong somehow. As he gets older and starts forming his world view he starts to think his dad might have left Yuu for any number of reasons. Did it happen before or after their amnesia, that's what he wants to know.
He has a pretty big problem with authority, residual trauma from the trip across worlds he thinks now… but back in your world he just didn't see the point of respecting someone just because they have more money and power than him.  Almost everyone does, that doesn't make them special!  But he's so sneaky about it, if it weren't for his clothes or his friends Yuu would hardly know what he gets up to in his spare time. It put a bit of strain on their relationship, Yutu sees his lies as something he does to protect his parent, while Yuu sees themselves as well.  A parent.  Who is the one who should be protecting their child not the other way around.  
When he tries to pull similar stunts with Original Timeline! Jade he gets a rude awakening. He tries sneaking out to meet up with some friends only to find his dad sitting with them, polite smile on his face clearly reveling in how awkward he is making this.  Oya, did Yutu think he was being slick?  He's hurt, no really this is the first time Jade has had to fake cry in years, he'd almost forgot how.  Didn't Yutu ever wonder where he got this from?  Because he had to know it wasn't Yuu.
Jade! Yutu also played in a band in middle school and also played bass, it just wasn't a jazz trio or an upright bass.  He would have liked continued to play in bands, but he shares his dad's issues with stage fright which makes it sort of difficult. He has tried his hand at writing his own music from time to time, but he's waaaaay too shy to ever play it for anyone other than the woods.
He really likes horror stories and cryptids, so he wasn't super afraid of the monsters when he first arrived in Twisted Wonderland.  One round with Phantom Riddle changed that nonchalant attitude quick, and while he still is very attached to the stuff he read about back in your world he hates blot monsters and Twisted Wonderland fiends in general.
Speaking of those monsters, Jade hates Yutu fighting them.  Father and son are an absolute nightmare for Crewel to deal with, one is threatening to drown him if Yutu is allowed to fight, the other is screaming curse words and saying it doesn't matter what Crewel does, he's going anyway.  He needs a drink (but not from Jade's bar he's going to get poisoned) 
I don't think Yutu actually told Jade he was planning on going back in time because he was angry and just assumed that he would try and stop him.  He's really proud of himself for the first few weeks he spends in the past thinking he got one over on his old man finally (he didn't, but he did hurt him quite a bit), but the more he interacts with the younger version of his parents the more he starts to regret that decision.
Past Jade is so… fun.  He thinks his dad is fun?!  His weird obsession with mushrooms was never something they talked about beyond a few compliments his dad gave to a mushroom patch he had on his jacket; watching his old man prattle on now he never would have guessed any of this.  Yutu never doubted that Jade loved you, but he didn't really think about what that looked like, or what you might have meant to Jade.  They just didn't talk about it, now that he's forced to think about it Jade was probably trying to focus on having him back and how lucky he was to even have that.  And instead of being honest about how angry he was to have lost you he lied and said he was fine.  With how good his dad was at knowing when he was lying Jade had to know that's how he felt, but respected his boundaries and didn't push. All those comments about being there when he's ready to talk, all the times Jade said he loved him, and those long nights he watched from afar as Jade sat with tea next to your grave, just talking to you as if you were still there are put into context. Yutu isn't able to sleep for a few nights after that.
Jade finds Yutu interesting.  He's a potential source of information about Yuu, a lot of his quirks remind him of himself and he finds the new kids blatant disrespect for authority to be hilarious! And hilariously good blackmail material, now now don't be afraid he really is just here to help...
"Nice try old man you won't pull shit out of me." Yutu sounds smug, but Jade knows when his spell has worked and when it hasn't; how delightful he doesn't seem to remember someone ever being so cocky about it before.
"That's a shame." He makes sure to make his face fall to keep the new kid off his guard as he continues his questioning. "It's just I am curious where did you come from? I thought Yuu's world doesn't have magic."
"I mean it doesn't, probably never would have been able to come back in time if I was still stuck there." Yutu blinks, clarity starting to come into view as Jade pushes through the surprise to ask a final question.
"Oya? And just why did you come back in time, were you worried about Yuu?"
"Of course I'm worried about my parent what sort of stupid question is-" Yutu returns to himself and treats Jade to a look of shock so rare and downright delightful he can't help but smile himself. "Hey just what did you do?"
Old man? What a disrespectful thing to call his father, no wonder his future self never told his son about his unique magic. Jade doesn't have time to doubt his affections for Yuu, once Yutu realizes he's fucked and can't get out of admitting that was the truth he tells Jade who he is and a bit about what the future is like. Jade can tell he's keeping a few details back, but he knows himself well enough to know that everything Yutu is describing would have changed him to a degree that he might not have been in the best mental space to help his son through the loss of Yuu.
Speaking of Yuu, Jade asks Yutu to keep his existence to himself for a bit. He wants to win over your affections without the help of the future looming in your thoughts, he only gets to have this part of his life with you once and he intends to savor it. But the confidence boost he gets from knowing you do end up as his mate does have him acting a bit goofy for a bit. Floyd and Azul are legitimately scared.
They are brought up to speed as Jade insists on introducing Yutu to them "properly" and he is every inch the proud father showing off their new baby to the relatives even though Yutu is practically his height and has a bunch of piercings. Floyd takes a liking to him immediately while Azul is a bit more awkward, not that he doesn't like Yutu he's just a lot different from anyone Azul has ever met before so he's unsure how to sell himself. Luckily he doesn't have to because Yutu appreciates his genuine self just like Floyd, Jade, and Yuu do.
Jade gladly invites Yutu to join the Mountain Lover's Club and is very excited when he says yes. Yutu finds a lot of enjoyment in helping his dad work mushrooms into Azul and Floyd's food by pretending to agree with their complaints. Floyd is so mad he calls Yuu and tells them to come get their kid.
The over protectiveness doesn't end exactly, but Yutu is more willing to understand and Jade is more able to explain himself. They're both extremely protective of Yuu and in sound agreement that nothing like Yutu's future can ever be allowed to come to pass. Jade wanted a family, so to learn that he got that and someone took it away from him? Future him was overwhelmed with grief but current him is overwhelmed with rage. Remember book four? He described what he would do to someone who betrayed him, and it wasn't pretty. His plans for whoever did this to his precious mate and child is going to get so much worse.
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