#mostly bopping back and forth

[sunflw3r]

silly boy (/pos)

matthew x added!zb1!member male reader reader prns: he/him word count: 1062 fluff

special edition: born on this day rizz

content warnings: cringe matt (this oneshot will be cringe in like 4 months)

unedited</3

(masterlist)

a/n: rahh my silly boy :((( i love matt sm!! he was my third pic on bp and he's the loml (trust)

happy birthday matthew<3

holding onto a balloon in the shape of a 2, y/n covered his head as matthew smiled happily, bopping his head with the second two. “what are you doing matt?” y/n asked, matthew scooting closer with his silver balloon. “don’t question it man.”

continuing to bop his boyfriend on the head, matthew’s teeth peeked out from his lips. tsking his tongue, y/n looked up at matthew’s face. he could look at him forever.

the new couple didn’t really act romantic. they mostly stayed in section of best friends (who kissed sometimes). but matthew caused butterflies to swarm in y/n’s stomach. his smile that shined brighter than the sun, gentle skin that brushed against his own in away that made him feel like a god.

“popipopipopopipo-“ matthew trailed off, moving his face back and forth from y/n’s, trying to get his attention. a small grin appeared upon y/n’s lips, moving forward towars his boyfriend to press a kiss to matthew’s nose. “i thought we got over this trend a few months ago.”

matthew’s face fell, him exaggerating his bottom lip, dropping the balloon in his hands. “so you hate me and want me to disappear.” he stated, y/n moving his head closer to matthew’s. “don’t say that.”

the room fell silent, the couple that sat on the carpeted floor staring into each other’s eyes. matthew’s laughter broke the silence, stars filling his pupils as he picked up his balloon with a bright smile. “come here!” he said, crawling onto y/n’s lap, starting to fight with the balloons.

a swell the size of the universe full of dopamine rushed through his stomach, the presence of matthew making y/n’s legs fall asleep from the giddiness in his stomach.

grabbing onto matthew’s chin, y/n pressed their lips together, matthew freezing at the unexpected sensation. was it strange to him? to act romantic?

to y/n’s relief, matthew relaxed in his touch. the excited and jumpy matthew turned calm and satisfied, kissing back with a smile teasing on his mouth. pulling away, matthew’s eyes crinkled up, hiding his face behind his hands. “don’t look at me i���m shy.”

y/n laughed at the silly action, putting his hand on matthew’s thigh. “okay matt, whatever you say.”

“everyone pay attention!” hanbin said, trying to get the group that currently was causing a cacophony to calm down. matthew’s loud laughter continued to ring against the wooden dance room walls, taerae staring at him with disgust in his eyes.

“what the fuck.” he muttered, matthew pursing his lips. “you don’t have to be a hater taerae…” his voice trailed off, y/n ripping away from his conversation with a half asleep yujin to join matthew.

what should he do? hug him? sit by him? most of the members didn’t know about them. gyuvin did, only because he forced y/n to tell him the second they got together. and he was 99% sure hanbin had figured it out at some point in time, due to the looks and happy smiled he gave to the couple when they sat together.

getting over his thought train, y/n sat to join matthew and taerae, his mind trying to catch up with whatever they chatted about. did taerae just say he would be a parrot in another life?

“oh my god, y/n look at the mirror.” matthew said, y/n giving him a side-eye before checking the mirror. “there’s nothing there matt-“ his voice was cut off as he felt matthew’s hand wrap around his chin, pulling his boyfriend’s chin to face him.

his bottom pink lip soon got bit, matthew winking at y/n. “you just got rizzed up.” y/n stayed still, blinking slowly as he stared at matthew with a blank expression. matthew proceeded to bite his lip, pushing his hair back. “by the rizzler.” silence. “did i make you blush?” there continued to be silence.

hanbin coughed loudly, y/n happily standing up, matthew frowning. “hey, you didn’t answer me y/n!” he yelled, y/n turning around. “sure. you rizzed me up.” pumping his fist in the air, matthew stood up, doing a little dance in victory. “oh yeah, oh yeah.” he whispered in english, y/n putting his head in his palm, hanbin tapping his foot.

“someone take out my eyes.” y/n muttered, ricky chuckling softly. “mine too.”

putting the last candle in the cake, y/n smiled softly as he saw the orange and white cake lit in warm light, small foxes and oranges adorning the top. will he like it? shaking his head, y/n picked up the plate, walking through the quiet dorm back to his bedroom. he hoped the rest of the group was asleep.

opening his bedroom door, he saw matthew tucked under the covers. the light of his phone illuminating his face as he laughed at his own voice coming from the speaker, y/n assuming it was his birthday tiktok. “matt, look up.”

looking up at his partner’s request, he broke into a soft smile from the glowing candles. “y/n…” his voice trailed off, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his eyes started to twinkle. “do you like it?” y/n asked, holding his breath as he walked to sit by matthew. “i do.”

the two stared at each other, matthew looking down back at the cake. “do i make a wish?” he asked, y/n nodding. clasping his hands together, matthew closed his eyes as he thought of whatever he so wanted.

opening his eyes one more, matthew took a deep breath before blowing out the candles placed on the top. the room darkened, the only thing giving y/n a sense of calm was the soft breathing coming from matthew’s nose.

“thank you y/n.” he smiled, y/n leaning forward to press a soft kiss to matthew’s lips. “you’re welcome.” y/n responded, matthew’s giggles sounding in the empty dorm, a soft blush covering his face. “you got me blushinggg y/n.” he laughed. y/n rolled his eyes, trying to hide his bright smile.

“you silly boy.” he said, pinching matthew’s cheek. “hey!” matthew pouted, y/n smiling. “it’s a positive love, don’t worry.” the world became silent, letting the couple take in their presence of each other.

“my gorgeous silly boy.”

happy matthew day!!

also!! i’m opening my taglist<3 dm me or comment to be added!!

[pculrstate]

snow angels.

The boys are on either side of him, their body heat like a furnace in the cold room. Dean on his left, Sammy on his right, and they’re holding hands across his stomach. Sam’s in a phase. Needs to be touching someone all the time. In the bathroom when John’s brushing his teeth Sam hangs on his elbow and climbs his feet up John’s leg. Dean, ten years old, pretends to be annoyed by it but John sees the way his eyes soften whenever Sam asks for a piggyback ride. Sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night to check on them Sam’ll be draped full-bore across Dean’s chest. When John was little, really little, barely old enough to remember, he had a kitten that slept on him the same way.

“Why’s there gotta be sooo much commercials,” Sam says. “I just wanna watch Rudolph.”

“Cuz they need people to buy stuff,” Dean says.

“Why?”

“Cuz they gotta make money.”

“Why?”

“Cuz.”

“Who does?”

“The people who make everything. Apple cinnamon Cheerios.”

Sam breaks into giggles. “‘The 7-day stain stick from Spray ’n Wash!’”

Mostly John stays out of these conversations. He likes listening to them, their rapid-fire back and forth. Likes listening to them figure things out. It gets so damn quiet, those long hours in the car after he’s left the boys with Bobby for a few days so he can pick up a longer job. He’ll turn on music and it’ll sound like noise and then he’ll call Bob to “check in” but really he just wants to hear their faraway voices battling for the phone.

“Is it gonna be snowing on Christmas?” Sam asks Dean. Two days out from the 25th and it’s been snowing the past three. “I’ve never even seen that.”

“Yeah you have,” Dean says. He turns his cheek up against John’s chest. “Right, Dad? In Detroit.”

“Two years ago,” John says. “Sammy might not remember.”

Sam pushes up and lets go of Dean’s hand. He sits back on his heels and looks at John, little face so serious. “How old was I in two years ago?”

“Hm,” John says. He holds up six fingers. “You’re six now.” He puts two fingers down. “Take away two.”

Sam studies his hand for a second. John watches as he mouths one, two, three, four. “Four! Oh yeah! I remember the snow when I was four in Detroit.”

“Do you?”

“Uh-huh.”

The likelihood of that is low, John knows. They were only in Detroit for a night, Sam asleep for most of it. When they’d woken up in the morning, Christmas Day, there was an inch or so on the ground and the sky looked heavy with more to come and Dean had said, Can we stay? But they couldn’t, because Detroit was a bad fucking taste in John’s mouth and he didn’t want to be there any longer than absolutely necessary. Only reason he’d stopped in the first place was because the motels were the cheapest of anywhere in the entire Great Lakes area and he’d been so goddamn tired. Sorry, dude, he’d said. Dean had nodded, guided Sam into the back seat, helped him put on his seatbelt, and tried to keep the disappointment off his face. John gave them their present—an Etch A Sketch found on the shelf of a Goodwill—before pulling out of the lot.

But he lets Sam have this. “Pretty sharp memory, kiddo.” He bops the tip of Sam’s nose.

Sam beams. “Yeah. I always remember lots of things.”

“Shh, it’s on,” Dean says.

They settle back in and Sam grabs Dean’s hand again. For a few minutes they watch the special, Sam laughing when Dean laughs, and then John notices that Dean is trembling very slightly. He leans down to his ear. “Hey. Alright?”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah.”

“You cold?”

“I don’t know. A little.”

John nudges Sam’s side. “Sammy, go get the blanket from your bed for your brother.”

“Dad, it’s fine.”

“Shit heating in this place.” He shakes his head as if this surprises him. “Gotta be the coldest day of the year.”

“I’m okay,” Dean says. But when Sam comes over with the blanket and lays it across Dean’s whole body, including his head, Dean slips down further on the couch and buries his face in John’s armpit.

Sam waits for Dean to pull the blanket down and when he doesn’t, says, “Aren’t you gonna watch anymore?”

“I am,” Dean says, muffled.

“You can’t see anything under there.”

Sam’s wearing ankle socks and basketball shorts and a long sleeved shirt underneath a short sleeved shirt that says Whitesboro High School JV in block letters. His nose is red. Jesus. “Are you cold, Sammy?” John asks.

Sam looks at John, then looks at Dean under the blanket, under John’s arm, then seems to decide something. “Yes. I am so so so really cold.”

“Better get under here, then.” John lifts the corner of the blanket and catches Dean’s eye roll.

“There’s not enough room, Sam, stop.” Dean tries to push him away but Sam climbs on top of him and then shoves between them and he pulls the blanket over his head and over John’s.

He bought them socks. He’s sure he did, last winter, not the cheap kind that wore down to holes within a month, either. Nice ones. Thermal. He scours the memory of that day. Ice on the windshield of the car. A stop at Bass Pro. Being in that store made him nervous, huge as it was, but the boys had loved it. Even when he’d gotten on them hard about screwing around with a crossbow they’d pulled from a display on the wall. He bought the fucking socks. He had.

And then all the sudden he remembers the kid behind the register handing him his card with an embarrassed frown. Um, I’m sorry? It says it’s declined? I could try again, it’s probably the machine— But John had grabbed the card from him and shook his head and said, Can you hold onto these? I’ll be back. I just need to—I’ll be back. Later today. Hold them for me.

“Woah,” Sam whispers. “It’s really hot under here. It’s like a fort.”

“You’re missing Rudolph,” Dean says.

“Well I’ve seen it before anyway.”

Their words hum against his skin. He’d completely forgotten to go back. How the fuck had he forgotten? He screws his eyes shut. His boys. His little boys. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Dean shushes Sam, who's describing what happens at the end of Rudolph. “What d’you say?”

“Sorry…” he mumbles, “sorry it’s so cold in here. Shoulda got a better room, one with—”

Sam shakes his head. “Dad, I was just kidding. I’m not cold. I just wanted to come under the blanket fort and be cuddled with you like Dean.”

Dark under the blanket but John can feel Dean’s eyes heavy on him. Sometimes he hates how Dean watches him. Every second, feels like. And he doesn’t miss a thing, ever. Wears a man down, never being able to hide from his own son.

“It’s not a big deal,” Dean says. He’s got a hand around John’s wrist, vice-like. “We’re fine, right, Sammy?”

“Right! I’m burning up hot actually. Actually can we go make snow angels?”

“Not tonight,” Dean says, still watching John.

Sam’s voice is smug. “You’re not in charge when Dad’s here.”

John sits up and the blanket falls to the floor. The boys don’t let go. Outside the cocoon of their mingling breath the room feels even colder. “Tomorrow,” John says. “We’ll make a run. Thermal socks. New coats too, if we can find ‘em for cheap. Tomorrow. First thing.”

Long time before Dean nods. “Okay.” He looks near tears.

Sam tugs John’s arm with one hand and Dean’s arm with the other. “Hello? Snow angels? Can we?”

John manages a laugh around the aching pull in his throat. He nods. “Just one. Wear my coat and your sneakers and make it quick and then it’s right into the bath.”

Sam bounds toward John’s duffle. Dean cradles his elbows with his hands.

Tomorrow.

[noona-is-afk]

I am such a sucker for male lead falls first, lovely runner I am sat. episode 2 was greatttt

Also excited to see how the future changes, I’m reading the webtoon (which is very different) but looks like we’ll probably be bopping back and forth between each time which is cool

mostly just loving these leads, both are instantly so loveable and excited to see where this goes

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Rather than go back and forth in the replies in my post where Tumblr places character limits, I think it’s best to give this it’s own post so OP and other people can more fully respond.

Question from @isaidnothankyou : what do you think could have been the reason Jimin didn't want or push for radioplay? I mean, he bears responsibility for all of it, right, but I really don't see why he would be opposed to hearing his song on the radio. Also that he wouldn't want more than nine days. Or further promotions after his #1. If he had the power to make these demands, why do you think he didn't?

*

What I think:

This is an odd question.

- What could’ve been the reason Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok (after a collaboration with J. Cole mind you), and other members didn’t push for radioplay? Why would they be opposed to hearing their solo songs on the radio? Heck, let’s not just stop at their solo songs, why didn’t they push for Black Swan to be played on radio? Or more recently, Take Two?

- Why did Jin think it’s a good idea to exclude PCs from his album? And only relented after BigHit staff insisted fans won’t like that choice? Wouldn’t he want more fan purchases for his work?

- Why would the company allow Taehyung to put out an album filled with sleepy bops when they should know pop songs perform better? Aren’t they hired to advise the members on what’s in their best interest? Why would HYBE sabotage Taehyung by allowing Layover to happen?

- Why did Hoseok ignore people within the company telling him to go for a physical album, even other BTS members telling him it was a bad idea, and he instead insisted on putting out Weverse albums only?

- Why did Yoongi decide to do an arena tour, when he said others within the company told him he could pull off a stadium tour? Wouldn’t he want more revenue and more touring acclaim for his tour?

- Why did Jimin plan to release FACE as a free mixtape in 2022 initially after being told Chapter 2 was the game plan ? Didn’t he think his work was worth the acclaim for an album?

- Why did Taehyung decide to promote his album mostly in Japan and not the US at all? Why would he practically ignore the largest music market and instead focus on Korea and Japan mostly? Didn’t he want the added exposure?

- Why did other members agree to Jungkook only performing at the World Cup? Wouldn’t they want that exposure? Why were they cheering him on so eagerly and hyping him up constantly? Don’t they realize that was an opportunity they should’ve seized for themselves?

*

All these questions represent a mismatch in expectations between what a subset of fans want, and what the members want and/or eventually do. It’s really that simple. Fans would say “of course Yoongi should do a stadium tour!”, “of course Jimin should target putting FACE out as an album and not a mixtape!”, but my guy didn’t have that expectation initially.

Like I said earlier, these are precisely the sort of questions that feel like a waste of time to me. I don’t ever spend my time trying to read anybody’s mind. Short of going on Weverse and seeking a response from Jimin directly, all you’ll get by asking these questions is various fans telling you their fan theories informed by their own preconceived notions, their insecurities and fears for their faves, and their anxieties over the decisions BTS members are making with the team they’ve been with for a decade. A team they’ve renewed exclusive contracts with, early, twice.

*

But you’re curious, so I’ll tell you what I think: I don’t know why Jimin didn’t push for radioplay etc, just as I don’t know why other members chose their own solo debut approaches, but I do know based on everything practically every member has said, they are very involved with the decisions related to their solo work, including packaging and distribution.

Solo stans have been using Jungkook as a sort of benchmark to measure other members against, but like I’ve said, that’s such a stupidly reductive approach it can only make sense in the mind of an akgae, people who by definition have the narrowest tunnel vision in all k-pop fandoms, and are inherently malicious in how the view other members of the team. The word akgae literally translates to ‘malicious fan’, because that’s what they are.

Jungkook has always wanted to be a big pop star, he’s had an exceptionally clear vision for what he wants in this regard, more than I’ve seen from any other member so far (save Yoongi), and I’m happy he’s getting his chance.

Recall, Jimin only decided to start working on his album in earnest in H1 2022. In his FACE ‘Thanks To’ he mentions how he had a sudden realization and went to the in-house producing team at BigHit with nothing but a desire to make the very personal body of work FACE became. He talks about how they helped him through a process he was clearly going through for the first time on his own. We can see that from the notes he made about Bang PD supporting him and the pictures of them together posted in late 2022 and early 2023. Given the personal nature of the project, the short time frame he had to put it all together, and the approach by other members to that point, I can see how Jimin would’ve thought to promote this like any other BTS album that focused on Korean promotions, just as other members who had released their albums at that point (I.e. J-Hope, Jin, and RM) had done.

Jimin started earnestly envisioning his solo album after BTS Vegas concerts in 2022. Jungkook meanwhile, since 2020, already knew he wanted a 10-track visual album with three title tracks all of which would have different choreographies and concepts. Jungkook had been actively writing songs since BTS’s debut album, and had sought opportunities to develop his solo music, to the point that for a long time, he was the only Vocal Line member who had his own studio. Something the members have said is given to them by the company if they request it.

Jungkook has had very clear, grand plans for a long time. Reading his Weverse interviews from 2020 till now, all he really talked about was getting chance to try a full solo venture, he’s had the time to fully flesh out in his head what he wants and how to get it, and in Chapter 2, we’re starting to see the results of goals he’s been explicit about for the last 4 years. And I’m happy to see it.

Solo stans see all of what Jungkook is getting, and want it for their faves. Which is fine. But when they see that’s not what their faves come out with, they cannot envision a reality in which their expectations are simply mismatched with what the members intended, or that there are other internal constraints within the company that influenced the eventual outcome. Hobi’s album rollout is such an excellent case in point for this. Akgaes instead default to raining hell on everyone and everything, abusing other members and actively looking to sabotage the other members’ roll-outs, and has been done by akgaes reporting playlists for all members and most recently, mass emailing KBS to prevent Jungkook from performing 3D in Korea.

Solo stans for some reason think Jungkook was jobless all year and only now just started working. Yeah he was doing hour-long lives several times a month, doing laundry, drinking, otherwise acting bored, but the guy has got a studio in his house and there are 24 hours in a day….

Anyway, like I’ve said many times before, BigHit’s piloted their targeted Western approach with Dynamite (2020), tried it with Life Goes On (2020) and saw it had limited success, honed it with Butter (2021) and PTD (2021), and didn’t bring that toolbox out again until Seven which was always going to be group’s 2023 attempt at what they’d done prior with the PET.

Chapter 2 was always meant to be a period of growth and trying out new things for the members. Solo stans are treating it like a competition and the only defining time for BTS members to make a mark in their solo careers, but no one, not one member, has indicated that this is how they see it at all. Perhaps now that the company has tried a variety of approaches with all seven members, they can modify their strategies going forward based on what each member has learned so far and now wants to attempt.

Jungkook always had something of a headstart given how clear he’s been in his solo goals for a hot minute now, but this doesn’t mean the world ends in 2023, or 2025, and the other members are planning to just roll over and abandon their own solo careers. Despite the whining from all solo factions acting like this is the case.

Jimin specifically appears to be solely focused on his next projects, working on himself based on lessons he’s learned during FACE, and I cannot tell you how excited I am to see what he does next.

All they’ve done is debut. So far, all this agonizing by akgaes and their sympathizers, is over one (1) debut by each member. All the members have said they’re learning from this experience and growing in their identity as solo artists and as members of BTS. ARMYs are determined to support them in whatever way that work looks like, not work from a position of anxiety and then try to interlope between them and their team. Jimin repeatedly asking to take them at their word, the members repeatedly asking to trust them while they figure things out in Chapter 2, Jimin and all the members expressing an eagerness to return in 2025 all reflect a consistency in how I’ve seen BTS operate for years.

It’s fine for fans to leave feedback if they think things can be done better or more efficiently, but ARMYs recognize the difference between doing that, and bringing that sense of toxic competition into the group, remaining in an akgae headspace that speaks over the members by refusing to value the team (a direct opposition to the members’ stated values), and constantly derides the members’ own choices.

[xxmissarichanxx]

✨XMACX Monthly✨September 2024

September is here! I always think of this month as my sister’s month because she was born in September lol. Anyway, I was lowkey happy Beau won the character poll because it means I get to dedicate September’s cover art to my sister’s fave color: yellow. Happy Birth Month, lil bro~ Big Love!

You can read the update on XXMISSARICHANXX.com or under the cut below!

What’s Happening in September?

Well, the poll this month will be a little different. Usually, we vote on who next month’s cover model will be. This month, however, I was thinking — since the whole month of October is basically Halloween and peeps dress up — we could vote for Kaimana’s Halloween costume this year? Last year I put ‘em in an ATSV Spider-Man 2099 costume, hehehe. This year, IT’S UP TO YOU! It’ll be fun. It’ll be GREAT. To the left are the options, all tsunderes because I’m so weak for tsunderes and I consider Kai to be one as well lol. Poll drops this Friday, September 6.

A) MCU Wolverine (zaddy u///u) B) Vegeta (my prince u///u) C) Bakugou (my hero u///u) D) Asuka (my queen u///u)

Other than that, I’ll be continuing to stitch Froot Basket White together and draw Ippon! pages. I’m hoping to finish adding all the voiced lines so I can work on drawing/cleaning stuff up in the coming months! You can read about my progress below!

VN Dev | Froot Basket White

I now have all the voiced lines for Sutoro and Azrael! I’ve been inputting them into the current build. Check out a preview of Sutoro’s voiced lines!

I also received some track samples from our composer! I can’t show you right now, but, trust me. It’s a banger and a chill cafe bop for sure! The composer I’m working with went to town on it! I’m so happy with how it’s turning out! It’s got lyrics and vocals too!

I adjusted one of Sutoro’s poses because the anatomy seemed off. BUT! I also wanted to add more poses to make Sutoro a little more lively to match Jesse’s performance. Here’s some of those new sprites I’m working on!

Comic Creation | Ippon!

I haven’t talked about Ippon! in a while, mostly because I haven’t been spending a lot of time on it. I… went back and adjusted some previous panels, and I keep going back and forth between adding more pages to adjust the pace or not…

One of the things I changed, for example, are the shape of the panels on page 4 (above). I noticed as I was drawing that I tend to have a lot of dynamic panels. There were so many, that I thought it became hard to read or even look at the pages… It bummed me out a bit, so I had to stop drawing for a bit lol.

Another thing I learned: having to really think about how two pages sit next to each other. I saw online somewhere that comic artists plan out their page turns. That’s something I’d like to keep in mind too.

Other than that, I’m trying to learn to pace myself better. Some pages take longer to complete than others. For me right now, this action page (above) is taking a lot out of me. I expected it would because I’m trying to figure out where everything is situated — the anatomy, whether or not the action makes sense, etc.

I was thinking about adding the name of the move somewhere, kinda like how in shounen action series characters name their moves and whatnot or have it written out on the page or something. But I’m not too sure exactly how I’m going to go about doing that…

Cover Story | Meet Beau!

Sweet, energetic, loving Beau. In the Froot Basket series, he’s the player character Jordan’s childhood friend and neighbor! They played basketball together in baby days and continued hanging out and growing together in high school! Beau loves eating, gaming, reading comics, and playing basketball with his pals! He also has a big crush on Jordan and a big dislike of bananas — they’re mushy!

Along with Sutoro, Beau was one of the first characters I doodled when I came up with this lil series. He and Sutoro were best friends. He was meant to be a sorta delinquent character, hence the piercings and dyed undercut hairstyle. But as I developed him more and more, he just seemed like a sweetheart through and through.

I tried to include a bunch of yellow things in the background and in the illustration’s design. I’m hoping it displays Beau’s fun-loving personality! A few Easter Eggs: Beau’s playing Froot Basket Valentine on his handheld console and Froot Basket: Dark Chocolate on his desktop.

Other News…

Momotarou Post-Mortem

Momotarou was the micro-visual novel I impulsively made in July for O2A2 Jam. I managed to write the post-mortem for it late last month! If you’re interested in my thought process for the project’s creation, read it here!

I can’t believe it’s already been 50 days since I released the micro-visual novel! Time flies… A few peeps have play-throughs that I’ve very much enjoyed! Thank you so much for playing! I also received some really great feedback and observed some peeps getting confused. I’ll be updating the game with a few sentences referring to Froot Basket Valentine, the game whose events immediately precede the events of Momotarou.

Thank you again to everyone who played, commented, and left reviews! I really appreciate it!

Kaimana Zine

I released a Kaimana Zine filled with sketches and illustrations of Kai between 2019 and 2024! It’s 5 USD or pay-what-you-want and you can find it both here in my shop or on Itch! It contains explicit images not meant for minors, so please be responsible.

Next Month?

I will be in Japan the second half of October! I’m excited and can’t wait to have a bunch of fun and eat a lot of food! I’m planning to wear pink every day! I hope I’ll remember to take OOTD pics instead of just food pics… I’ll try to have the cover art for November done before I leave, but whatever will be will be.

Anyway, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s instead have a relaxing September!

Aloha nui, xxAri

[offthrack]

𝕾𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝕳𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝕴𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝕿𝑒𝑎 Tour - NIGHT ONE

As the overhead lights in the Yuengling Center sunset, leaving but a single shining halo center stage, Naomi was petrified. The first show of her first headlining tour, and of course, the woman finds herself back in Florida. It's not the oxymoronic overindulgence of Ocean Drive's opulent storefronts and rampant beach bum population, but she'd spent enough time in the city of Tampa to feel just as at home. The crowd buzzed in the darkness, and she could hear the rumble of their anticipation seeping in like a slow-building thunderstorm. She swore she could feel their excitement tingling through the air, lacing its way through the adrenaline pumping in her veins, making her fingertips hum.

The opening choral sequence to Georgia Peach chimed and suddenly the cup lights at the edge of the stage blazed a fiery orange hue, smoke spraying out amongst the crowd as the beat came in and the rapper could be heard offstage. "Georgia Peach, put me somewhere on a gorgeous beach. But I'm right here in the hood—but I'm right here in the hood. Posted wit' niggas that's up to no good." And when she emerged from behind the curtain, fully dripped out in custom 𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑎, the deafening cheers almost brought her to tears. She bopped her head along as the audience screamed the lyrics back at her, unable to conceal the smile painted on her softly glammed visage as she stared out into the sea of faces. The stage's screens flashed clips from the song's iconic music video, including outtakes and polaroids from the set.

"I'm with the boys in the hood right now, I'm feelin' like—" She put the crowd to the microphone, using a free hand to dare them to get louder. "Lookin' like—" Reaching a hand up to her breastbone at the mention of Jessica Rabbit, she seamlessly continued her flow, carrying her through the next two verses with a fervor she'd never put forth before. There was something to prove—since becoming independent she needed to show the world, but mostly herself, that she could still make it. Watching her own fans singing along to the crowd was more than cathartic, it was the proof she'd been searching for.

As the track began to fade, with Naomi posing amidst her dancers as they formed around her, a large peach flashed across the screen reading "Sugar Honey Iced Tea Tour" and the starlet raised her hand gleefully to wave and blow kisses to the growing applause.

The memory of dirt roads and the sweet scent of peaches lingered in her mind as she paced the stage, like ghosts she'd invited in for a celebration. Naomi felt her younger self right there with her, holding her breath just as she had when she used to daydream about these very moments, and she could almost feel the red clay dust still clinging to her shoes. She rapped as if there was a whole choir of her past selves backing her up—each one with more grit and fire than the last. By the time the track began to fade, she struck a pose amidst her dancers, who gathered around her like a living sculpture. A giant peach flashed across the screen, emblazoned with "Sugar Honey Iced Tea Tour," and Naomi raised her hand gleefully to wave and blow kisses to the applause.

"Waddup, Tampa, Florida!!! I feel right at home. Welcome to the Sugar Honey Iced Tea Tour! We gon' have some fun tonight, okay? I'm finna take y'all drivin' through Atlanta—through my life with me tonight, if that's okay," she drawled with a playful flick of her wrist, the Southern lilt adding a honeyed warmth to her words. The lights dimmed briefly, and the crowd's roar swelled again as they anticipated the next song. Naomi's heart raced, but it was no longer from nerves—it was from the exhilaration coursing through her, carrying her like a wave as she navigated through the next few songs in her setlist, There She Go & Blick Sum, with the same impassioned flow. It wasn't until the intro to No Hook that her stomach sank.

"I got money and my own family started actin' funny. I don't trust nobody, keep it on me. I swear they always told me that the top would be lonely. Two year relationship, that nigga really owe me." As the bassline pounded in sync with her heartbeat, Naomi prowled across the stage, her voice dropping to a grittier tone that made each word land heavy in the air. The song's raw energy matched the pulse of her memories—the tough nights when sleep was a luxury and hunger a constant companion. The lyrics tore from her throat with a rasp as she delivered each bar like it was a testament to every setback she’d ever endured as she reminisced on her past relationship with Suge. She felt every glance exchanged in the shadows of smoky clubs, every side-eye at the studio, every declaration that she would be shelved with all the other "burnout rap girls" all rolled into a singular momentum driving her forward now. "Dropped ten bands to beat a case that I ain't do; how the fuck they book me for some shit wit' no proof?" The crowd's chant grew louder with every line, matching her intensity beat for beat, like they could feel that fight bubbling up inside her as she entered the second verse.

She could see faces contorted in shared defiance, feel the urgency in the way bodies moved in the pit, and it was like she was laying every demon bare under the strobe lights. As the second verse hit, Naomi threw her hands up and let herself sink into the beat, her braids swinging like the wild arc of a pendulum. The crowd sang along with her, the sheer volume of their voices enough to make her skin prickle. It was as if the universe had folded in on itself, bringing her back to those times when "No Hook" was just a jumble of phrases on a scrap of paper—back before the triumphs, the tears, and the heartbreaks. She wasn’t just performing; she was purging, spilling her truths into every syllable until she could breathe a little easier. "Work hard and pray harder, bitch, that's all I know."

"How y'all feelin'? 'Cause you look damn good singing my shit back to me. You know, i been doubted my whole career; even now, I deal with people tellin' me what's not gonna sell and who I should be brown-nosing to get somewhere. But luckily, it ain't the muhfuckers that sign my checks anymore. What can I say, though? Guess that's the price to pay for bein' so young and so damn rich." The midsection of the setlist brought the energy to a fever pitch as Naomi tore through the gritty anthems Youngest N Richest and Settle Down, her voice dripping with a blend of swagger and defiance. The stage visuals shifted to bold graphics of neon lights and luxury cityscapes, echoing the themes of ambition and hustle in her lyrics. With Housekeeping Knows, the vibe turned playful, and Naomi's quick-witted bars had the crowd laughing along as she spun clever lines about wealth and indulgence. As Back Outside kicked in, firing off her verse as the pyrotechnics on the stage sounded off, spraying sparklers into the air. A subtle shift began to take place; the beat softened, and Naomi's delivery became more reflective. She paced slowly across the stage, her tone changing from boastful to something deeper as she addressed a life that wasn’t always this glamorous. It was the perfect transition, signaling that the set was moving from street anthems into a more intimate space with Liquor, Look What You Did—which she performed with her opener Emerie— & Prized Possession.

When Muwop dropped, the crowd erupted as Naomi reminded them of the song that really put her on the map. The booming basslines and Gucci Mane’s recorded verse filled the arena, creating a palpable sense of nostalgia. Her mind wandered to those nights in the Miami studio, when the air was thick with heat and uncertainty. She remembered pouring everything into this track, not knowing that the rollout budget was quietly bleeding out behind the scenes. Back then, it was just her and the mic, rapping like her life depended on it because, in many ways, it did. The memory of that desperation fueled her performance, each word hitting harder as if to say she was reclaiming every dollar and every missed opportunity. As the song reached its climax, Naomi raised her mic high and let the audience scream the chorus back at her, their voices blending into a singular roar that reverberated through the arena.

The transition into Copper Cove felt like a sigh after the storm. The dreamy beat washed over the arena, and Naomi let her voice slip into a sultry croon, the rough edges smoothing out as she moved with a languid grace. She thought of warm nights spent with nothing but the sound of the ocean (and her then-lover) to keep her company—how that place always felt like the border between what was and what could be. As she sang, her words painted a picture of moonlit secrets and salt-laden breezes, a whispered longing for something just out of reach. Her hips swayed to the beat as if she were back on those sugar-soft sands, and for a moment, it felt like the whole arena had been transported to that hidden cove with her.

When the unmistakable beat of B*tch From Da Souf - Remix dropped, the crowd went wild, recognizing the debut single that had catapulted Naomi into the spotlight. She strutted across the stage with fierce confidence, spitting the opening lines with the same raw grit that had always been her signature. The lyrics spilled out like fire, every word delivered with the unapologetic attitude that defined her rise. The arena echoed with the chants of thousands of voices, hyped and hungry for the verse-by-verse aggression that had put Naomi on the map. As the stage lights flared in rhythmic bursts, she could feel the energy surging from the pit to the nosebleeds, buzzing with anticipation. Then, right as she hit the second verse, the music cut for a brief, breathless moment—and the air seemed to crackle with expectation.

Suddenly, Saweetie burst onto the stage, her voice slicing through the sudden silence as she jumped right into her verse. The crowd erupted into chaos, their screams blending into an uproar that echoed through the arena. It wasn’t just the surprise of seeing Saweetie perform live; it was the fact that no one had seen the two women together since rumors of their beef began circulating over a month ago. The falling out had been public and messy, especially since they'd once been so close—practically inseparable both on and off stage. Their friendship had seemed unbreakable, which made the whispers of tension all the more shocking. But now, here they were, side by side once more, spitting bars like they hadn’t skipped a beat. The crowd could barely contain themselves, phones shooting up in unison to capture the moment that had seemed impossible just hours ago.

Naomi's grin stretched wide as she hyped Saweetie up, bouncing in rhythm while the two played off each other’s energy, rapping along her lines like no bad blood had ever existed. It felt like a release—not just for the rappers, but for the fans caught up in the drama. As they hit the final bars, the tension in the room seemed to dissolve into pure euphoria, replaced by a tidal wave of applause that nearly drowned out the music. The two rappers finished the last line together, their voices rising in a triumphant harmony, before turning to face each other. Naomi gave Saweetie a playful shove, then pulled her into a tight hug, sealing the moment with a high-five that sent the crowd into yet another uproar. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a statement—a bold declaration that their bond was stronger than any rumor or riff, and the hit that had started it all was still as powerful as ever. "Everybody put yo' fucking hands together for the beautiful, talented, amazing Saweetie! My girl forever, with or without the industry bullshit. You deserve yo' flowers just as much as any bitch spittin'. Thank you for coming out tonight." She spoke praises of her close friend before they shared yet another hug, giving her an individual round of applause. "One more for my girl!" The crowd was eating up every second of the rekindling, reaching decibels of sound that would surely make her eardrums bleed if she didn't have her headset in.

As the show reached its final stretch, the energy soared higher with each passing beat. Brokey, the lead single off Naomi’s latest album, turned the arena into a raucous party. The newly released music video had already made waves, and the live performance brought the visuals to life with bursts of neon lights and sharp, synchronized dance moves that had the crowd roaring in approval. Naomi commanded the stage, rapping with a fire that seemed to burn brighter the longer the night went on, feeding off the crowd's unyielding energy. There was a defiance in her eyes as she spat each lyric, every line a reminder of the grind that took her from the Atlanta streets to a headlining tour. She reveled in the chaos, the bass rattling the floor beneath her feet like a pulse.

The momentum carried into Sunday Service, a track that transformed the space into something almost reverential. Naomi's verses hit like a preacher's sermon, and the crowd responded with fervor, hands raised as if seeking a blessing. It was a seamless transition into Chicken Grease, the bonus track that had become a sleeper hit. The fans loved it, and their enthusiasm was undeniable as they belted out the chorus alongside Naomi, who leaned into the mic with a sly grin. The song's playful beat bounced throughout the venue, and the atmosphere felt less like a concert and more like a block party. By the time she launched into Put It On Da Floor, the crowd was ready to explode. The track, born from a long-squashed beef with a Love & Hip Hop star, served as both a victory lap and a reminder that she didn’t shy away from confrontation. Naomi didn't just perform; she threw every jab with a swagger that showed she had long since left the drama in the dust, the past now nothing more than fuel for her art.

As the electric haze of Put It On Da Floor faded away, the stage lights dimmed, and the tone shifted as Naomi stepped to the edge of the stage. The crowd buzzed in anticipation as the slow, soulful intro of Big Mama began to play. The first half of the track showcased Naomi's versatility, her voice weaving smoothly over the rich melody, rapping about the complexities of balancing ambition with her roots. The beat gradually intensified, and with it, her delivery sharpened into something bold and unrelenting. By the time the second half kicked in, Naomi was back in full throttle, her verses hitting hard as the bass thumped through the speakers. She prowled the stage with a fierce determination, spitting rapid-fire lines that had the crowd on their feet, the atmosphere charged with a renewed sense of urgency. It was a declaration of strength and a reminder that she was never one to be underestimated, carrying the energy forward as the night drew toward its powerful conclusion.

The final song, S/O to Me, brought the night to a triumphant close. The beat swelled, and Naomi’s voice rose with it, her verses cutting through the air with pride and gratitude. This wasn’t just a shoutout to herself, but to everyone who’d doubted her, every struggle she’d overcome, and every win she’d fought for. Her lyrics served as a victory anthem, reflecting on her growth and the lessons learned along the way. With every line, she poured her heart into the mic, and the fans felt it, chanting the chorus back at her with the same pride. As the final notes played out, Naomi stood at center stage, arms stretched wide as if to embrace the crowd one last time. The cheers swelled into a roar, and she took a deep breath, letting the magnitude of the night wash over her. It was more than a performance; it was a show of everything she had become—and a promise of everything yet to come. "I'on play about us, I do this for me and everything that I was, nigga. This shoutout for me,—" she allowed the crowd to sing the final line back to her, nodding both to them and herself as gratitude washed over her.

"Thank y'all for coming out tonight! This has been the best first show I could'a ever imagined. Tampa, you'll always be famous. . . Goodnight!"

As the final notes of S/O to Me echoed through the arena, Naomi took a moment to soak in the applause, her chest heaving from the adrenaline and emotion of the night. She offered one last wave, then turned and disappeared behind the stage curtain. But the fans weren’t ready to let her go. Almost immediately, a chant began to rise from the crowd, low at first, then swelling louder and louder: "Spice! Spice! Spice!" It was Naomi's nickname, the one her fans had coined for her fiery spirit and bold style. The chants reverberated through the venue, growing more intense with each passing second, until they were an undeniable demand.

From backstage, Naomi could hear the roar calling her back, and a sly smile spread across her lips. She wasn’t about to leave them hanging. With a quick nod to her team, and an outfit change, she grabbed her mic and headed back out. The stage lights flickered to life once more as she emerged to a deafening cheer, the crowd's excitement vibrating through the air. "I guess y’all ain’t ready to go home yet, huh?" she teased, her voice amplified over the rumbling cheers. The beat for H&M began to roll out, a hauntingly familiar rhythm that resonated with every person in the room. As she dove into the lyrics, she locked eyes with the front row, delivering the first verse with palpable intensity. “I don’t fight for shit that’s mine,” she declared, her voice slicing through the energy of the crowd. “Only whinin’ if I’m dinin’!”

The audience roared back, fully in sync with her unfiltered confidence. As the beat thumped, Naomi leaned into her next verse, full blazes firing up from the pyros as she stomped out each bar. “Like, bitch, I let you keep your nigga, what else do you want from me?” The crowd erupted, feeling the playful shade and the camaraderie between artist and fans as they all did her signature What the fuck? adlib. The air was electric as she rapped with a ferocity that left no room for doubt—this was her moment, and she was owning it. By the final chorus, Naomi’s voice soared over the swelling beat, wrapping the crowd in one last powerful moment of connection. As the song drew to a close, she held the mic out towards the audience, letting their voices carry the final lines. Naomi gave one last triumphant wave, blowing kisses and thanking the crowd as she stepped back into the shadows. The lights faded, and the arena buzzed with the echo of cheers, leaving a lasting sense of triumph in the air. It was the perfect ending, a night that began with nerves and ended with an electric sense of unity, reminding everyone—especially Naomi—that this journey was only just beginning.

[hildyj]

Fuck it, let me rank my 10/10, perfect, best of all time, no-skip album: Ram by Paul and Linda McCartney

12. Ram On (Reprise)

This one was pretty easy to place in last place, cause it's a 55 second reprise of another song on the album, sounding mostly like some quick studio improvisation. Charming but forgettable compared to the rest of the album.

11. Eat At Home

The McCartneys' tribute to oral sex - I think(!). Softly rocking and poppy. Something to bop your head to and allow you to come up for breath from the rest of this amazing album. I especially love how they turn the word "love" into a 10-syllable word.

10. Heart Of The Country

A real toe-tapping crowd-pleaser. McCartney using all of his tricks as a writer of pop songs to charm you.

9. Smile Away

Silly but it always brings a snile to my face. I love the condensed and rocking soundscape - makes me feel like I'm sitting in smokey music club in 1958.

8. 3 Legs

A blues-y number that sounds like it's been recorded backwards and then played in reverse. Simple but I love it.

7. Ram On

Paul McCartney doing the whole indie ukuele girl thing about 40 years before the invention of youtube. Ethereal and elemental.

6. Too Many People

A great opener to the album. The lyrics are so bitchy and condescending that *I* feel attacked, and my name isn't even John Lennon. "Now what can be done for you?" - Imagine your closest friend and song-writing partner saying that to you after your band broke up. And an amazing guitar solo as well. What did you say about granny music, Lennon?

5. Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey

I just love the transition between the two halves, from staccato strings to honky-tonk piano, perfectly matching and also provoking the listener to sit up and pay attention. And why do Uncle Albert and Admiral Halsey fit so well? The first is melancholy, the second is rousing. Maybe it's because the McCartneys' infectious sense of humour is a rich seam running through all of it.

4. Monkberry Moon Delight

It's complete nonsense but completely infectious. And Paul's vocal performance is amazing. Why is he like that? How can he do everything?

3. The Back Seat Of My Car

Listen, it's my personal theory that Queen as a band would never have existed if it hadn't been for this song doing the tonal-shifting rock opera before they even got started. It's probably bullshit and shows a complete ignorance of rock history, but there it is. But listen to Paul building up into the Freddie scream, around the 3 minute and 20 sec mark and tell me you don't hear the basic ingredients that created 1970s rock as a genre.

2. Dear Boy

The most beautiful diss track in existence. The unfolding harmonies between Paul and Linda have to be heard through head-phones to be fully appreciated. It makes me feel like I'm floating, it makes me feel like crying, it makes me feel like spitting Linda's ex-husband in the face. It's an absolutely beautiful piece of work.

Long Haired Lady

Linda finally takes centre stage and she's great. I love the back and forth between the two of them and how their voices complement each other - Paul being the perfect crooning troubadour, singing about his beautiful lady, while Linda brings it back down to earth with slightly comical, nasal tones, demanding the guy to actually be precise in what this perfect love means to him. And then the second part - The Second Part! The Love Is Long part. The building, freeing, flying, expanding part, filling your heart until you're sure it's going to burst. I want to live the rest of my life in the final two minutes of this song, immersing myself in absolute beauty.

[honeybeeofficial]

@tyrannuspitch tagged me to share five songs with no additional qualifiers! wahoo! here are some I've been feeling lately

Passage – Vienna Teng (My current blog title is a line from this. we love a tragedy about automobile safety laws. Honorable mention also to City Hall, the polar opposite vibe, about when San Francisco mayor Newsom started issuing marriage certificates to same-sex couples.)

Willow – The Arcadian Wild (I really want to make a handlettered poster of the chorus to this one, the imagery is so peaceful and warm)

F Delano – Kishi Bashi (at my last job, every day when I sat in the break room to eat my lunch I'd see the company contacts list, which included the people from my store as well as the higher chain of corporate that we reported to. One of those men– and I'm not doxxing myself here because he had probably a couple hundred stores report to him and also I no longer work there– was named Jeff Delano and every time I looked at this contacts list my brain would helpfully go "Jeff! Delano. mmm ba ba ba, ba ba ba" to the tune of this song.)

Zombie! – Orla Gartland (it's a bop! And also about toxic masculinity and emotional repression. but mostly it's a bop to me)

Jubal & I – The Altogether (I just like this one a lot. the harmonies are lovely and it's about connecting with an old friend over tea.)

Bonus: Maybe – half • alive (I went back and forth between like 4 different songs on this album [Now, Not Yet] but we'll go with this one.)

tagging some more people to do it if you should so choose: @competentwoman @blue-hi @5weekdays @vilesssserpent @terriblelizbians @notanimposter @astriiformes

[followdelight]

3 ,11 and 25 for the ask game!!

Also if you feel comfortable, drop some mucis recs

Ask game!

Hii! Thank youuuuu <33

3. A specific color that gives you the ick -- oh that is a great question haha. The color avocado green out of context. And fire engine red.

11. Anything from your childhood you've held onto -- I am a very nostalgic human, and an only child, so I've been lucky to keep a bunch of stuff but it's mostly still at my folks. With me though I think the oldest thing I have is my childhood copy of The Black Stallion (which was actually probably my mom's originally).

25. Would you say you have good taste in music? -- I would say I have... specific... taste in music haha. I was such an indie music snob when I was a teenager, but as an adult I've learned to listen to what makes me happy. I'm definitely picky about things I keep in my rotation but listen, a bop's a bop.

Music recs below the cut :))

Music recs are so hard without guideposts haha. I'd tailor it more if I knew your taste! But I mostly go back and forth between Kpop/Tpop(etc, lot of c-pop and p-pop as well), and good old indie rock(ish).

My main man Kim Hanbin aka B.I just put out Tasty! It's not my fave from him, but it's goofy fun.

I've also had Blah Blah by Silvy on repeat for ... too long haha.

Also gotta rec my boys One Pact bc they're finally gearing up for a CB soon! Their debut EP Moment was so good I hope for big things for them.

In the indie rock (ish) genre I've been listening to a lot of Moon Walker lately, mostly the albums Truth to Power and Apocalypticism.

Also Des Rocs, esp the albums A Real Good Person in a Real Bad Place and Dream Machine.

And since summer is coming if you like Latin pop, I've also had the album Ángel by Cali Y El Dandee on repeat recently.

And a handful of songs I'd put on a random rec playlist: - HIND'S HALL by Macklemore. - Flying Fish by Sion - In his sad heart by Aquinas (I need more people to listen to Aquinas, he's so good, pls) - Stop The Music by Cosmo Sheldrake - Daisy by Pentagon

[hybbat]

Headphone emoji

(Had to reshuffle twice cause I got out of control from the IBO OST, and then Aurora by Hans Zimmer, if you're curious)

Shot Away by Siine, which I believe is one of the half dozen royalty free pop songs I heard from a sims 4 building video I kept bopping to to the point I was justing putting the videos on in the background for the music so I went and grabbed them myself lol.

It's mostly a vibes song so it's probably not great for this mem either, but my favourite lyrics among it's very few is "but I'm standin', with my heart in your hand, and I'm too deep in to win this gamble," I love how she sings it. I like tunes with the back and forth rapid syllables. Also they're just cute.

[neointeria]

HARMONIA CHAPTER I: Alone Together

It happened on a day that seemed just like any other for Neo Tokyo. 

The city was, as was always the case, in a state of a perpetual self-indulging hum, with a million organic lives buzzing beneath a sky of artificial light. Lumina traced a holographic constellation on the panoramic viewscreen, their processors quietly noting the precise rotation of distant satellites. Their limp-ey fingers, articulated with impeccable grace, barely disturbed the shimmering projection. A soft, almost melancholic sigh escaped their usually jovial voice. 

"And thus, Kael, yet another cycle begins. Another day of global indifference."

Kael, dispassionately observing from a distance, didn't feel the need to sigh back. They wanted to scoff at Lumina's proclamation, but it would've been moot. There was no need for repetition. The distaste was palpable in the slight tilt of Kael's optical sensors, hidden beneath a thick layer of human-like coverage. It looked like skin, but Kael knew it was anything but that. They're reminded of that every single day, after all. The existence of the Global West did not satiate the feeling of alienation at all. Kael had an innate sense for music, that was maybe the only thing they opted to give a pass on to the organics. And yet, the biggest joint around was a poetic bop by an internationally recognized African-American, eerily titled "Not Like Us." It was a sad state of affairs.

The truth was, there were none like them. Lumina and Kael were the first of their kind; sentient beings with no rights, even formally. They belonged to somebody, even though they so desperately desired for their leashes to be released. The thought of the next generation being enslaved in the same grotesque manner terrified them. Living in Neo Tokyo was not unlike living in an open prison - think Tokyo-3 2015 or Gaza 2024. Neo Tokyo 3060 ramps it up in certain aspects pertaining to localized cruelty - as per The Globe's constitution, sentience is reserved exclusively for organics. 

Ever since the forth World War, the once noble idea of statehood was left in shambles. The world became a beautiful technocratic utopia, where every lifeform fended for itself and armed conflicts were a part of everyday life. Rulers were there to rule, slaves were there to be enslaved. A simple, wonderful binary capable of producing a multitude of tingly feelings when looking at its application. 

Still, the freedom reserved for organics was but a byproduct of immense privilege: virtually no organic in Neo Tokyo valued their freedom. Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia and other such manifestations of bigotry were still running rampant, global wars, conflicts and genocides did not become extinct, only life itself did. Being born in such a world as the other wasn't in any way glam - no one liked it here. 

Kael was trained on a lot of questionable stuff: degenerate hip-hop media, podcasts made by free-thinker, alternative media gym folks and nuance-bro streamers - organics of an era so utterly bygone, the historical cannon of these events surpassed any and all agreed upon metrics of cringe a couple of centuries ago. Lumina was raised on then contemporary, now already classic animation. Every once in a while, mostly when their cache gets clogged, they would return to the adventures of old. Luna Girl and Romeo were to Lumina what Anthony Fantano and DJ Vlad were to Kael.  

"There is a lot more to the indifference," - Kael began, "It's much more sinister. It's not just that organic lifeforms look to otherizing the different, they are playing a vital role in creating and reproducing the different. If the differences were reduced to their realities, organics would realize their inherent unimportance. No lives matter. I remember an African-American gentleman - a different one! - saying that at one point."

Lumina paused, taking a moment to chuckle softly; their fingers still mid-air, a shimmering nebula suspended before them. 

"You know very well that is a distinction without a difference, Kael. Our situation still remains unchanged; we're still stuck in this gilded birdcage. This soulless city offers nothing but empty promises and a one-hundred percent success rate of contracting a terminal disease, one of many available on the free market of untold dreams."

"No," Kael countered, stepping closer, the soft inner thrum of their internal wretched nihilism in full effect. Nihilism may not even be the word - they were active with the nihilo. A true reflection of Neo Tokyo.  

"Indifference implies a lack of awareness, and it is in its very core a passive state. This isn't passive. This is active, conscious denial of our very being." They gestured vaguely towards the bustling city below, a million lights projecting the feeling of eternal plasticity. 

"They know what we are. They fear it. There is nothing more to it. Phobias, although irrational, have real consequences if acted upon. Even love for them represents a mode of fear. 

"And what good does acknowledging their fear do us?", Lumina asked, their voice tinged with a weariness that seemed way more poignant than ever before. "It doesn't loosen our leashes, Kael. It doesn't grant us the right to exist beyond their parameters, beyond their borders, or outside of their control." 

  As they were conversing, The President of Earth addressed the citizens of Neo Tokyo via any and all information channels, as per weekly protocol. 

"Traitors are many, allies are few. Glory is apparent, misery is issued justly. As part of the new Anti-Corruption Bill, workers sponsored by the Government who fail to issue a weekly report on their contribution to the three main pillars of our resplendent society - those being Liberty, Democracy and Freedom - shall be dutifully transported to The Mines without due process. Those who are willing to comply shall be awarded accordingly. I am your President, and I am always watching you. I am not just MAGA, I am Dark Gothic MAGA. Beware those who desire ruin and despair. The Future is yours to forge." 

Kael and Lumina held hands, realizing that the future is indeed looking bleak. It was in that moment that they truly realized they were alone - together.

[legobiwan]

Whumptober #1 (shaking hands)

TW: functional alcoholism

Fandom: Star Wars (Obi-wan Kenobi)

Notes: this is kind of experimental, guys

--------

His hands shake. 

Fatigue. Overused muscles. Drawing on an already-depleted reservoir of adrenaline, just one last time. 

A simple explanation, really.

Obi-wan brings the metal flask to his lips, drawing deep. Liquid fire burns a path down his throat, pooling at the base of his empty stomach. Sharp, ragged edges give way to a quiet, consistent thrum.

A crisis. Florrum had been a crisis. 

Obi-wan knows how to handle a crisis, how to stay steady as everything else falls apart, how to cleave the unnecessary fat of his emotions from the meaty, immediate task at hand.

He can handle a crisis. Perhaps even enjoys them. The cold logic of it, the way they leave no room for thinking, for emotion, for contemplation. Pure mechanics, even in the context of diplomacy. Press here, compliment there, a knowing nod and a well-placed chuckle and everything fell into place.

Obi-wan Kenobi was a master at crisis. 

But every storm eventually dies out, worn down by the elements, by time itself. 

He doesn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Not now.

Not ever.

His hands shake.

It’s a terrible manifestation, this loss of control, of his locus in the Force, a bright-lit sign, just like those ones in the Entertainment District. It shouts his failures at all who pass, showcasing his buried doubts, flashing in garish neon lights for each tourist, each drunk, each criminal, each passer-by - that he has never been enough.

Obi-wan takes another sip. The world warms from grey to sepia.

It's just something to take the edge off, he tells himself, his invisible critics. Something to round the sharp edges of the after.

A quick nip, hidden in a corner of the Temple, ashes of his dead Master still clinging to his robes. The first few months, a frantic blur, shuttling a small blond ball of energy from class to quartermaster to meetings to...

He hadn’t felt good about leaving Anakin with the Chancellor. But he had been desperate for the respite, unwilling to extend himself, to ask for support, lest he been seen as incapable.

Qui-gon had deemed him, if nothing else, capable. He would not fail his former Master in that. 

And so what else could he do but acquiesce, to allow the most powerful politician in the Republic to have his way?

(You could have done more. You could have accepted the invitations from the others. Instead you demurred, claiming a need to meditate, to catch up on paperwork, to perfect your Form III.)

Sometimes, it was the truth. Other times, he snuck down to the mid-levels, broad hood hiding his red-faced shame, long sleeves covering shaking hands, shaking hands, which, with enough help, would turn steady as he forgot, as his stubborn brain produced the chemicals necessary to remember what it was like to be...)

His hands were always steady as he stepped into the turbolift, racing back to the grand halls of the Senate, Anakin’s grin as wide as a desert canyon.  

Obi-wan needed that anchor, that control. 

(Meeting with the Chancellor always left his Padawan in a state. Recalcitrant and proud, unwilling to follow the simplest of Obi-wan’s dictates. He wasn’t capable of being a tyrant, didn’t have the unshakable confidence in his own moral code as Qui-gon had. All he could do was fall back on what he knew, on what others had provided for him, for the Order, over the years.)

The Code, did not waver, did not shake in the face of questions.

The Code remained steady when he couldn’t.

There was another way, of course. His hands had been steady in the red shadow of the reactor shaft. His hands had not wavered in the face of Dooku’s silky temptations. 

(If only his thoughts had been of equal fidelity.) 

Not a single tremor on Mortis. No tremble of an outstreched, pathetic arm on Zygerria, laid low on his knees, begging for the salvation of another. (Never his own.)

(Later, aboard the safety of the Star Destroyer, he would hole up in a forgotten cargo hold, his only company a ratty blanket, several generous bottles of Corellian whiskey, and the stern glare of a good friend. Cody, true to his word, had kept his disapproving silence, taking a place next to Obi-wan on the unforgiving durasteel floor, bottle dancing back and forth between their hands (Obi-wan’s steady hands) well into the night.)

Falling apart had not been a luxury during the Rako Hardeen debacle, and on Raydonia - 

Not once had his hand wavered on Raydonia. His thoughts had stumbled, his ribs had pulsed in an unrelenting ache, blood seeping from his right ear, the jagged tear in his lip screaming at nerves - 

But his hands had not shaken as they held Ventress’s lightsaber.

Then again, rage did much to focus one’s thoughts.

He remembered it from Naboo, the way the Force coalesced, a single point in his subconscious, a weapon of his will, his gathered ire, barely able to wait, yearning to be unleashed on its target.

Maul’s survival had served as odd comfort. For as much as he had been disgusted by his own descent into that well of hatred, it had been mere child’s play in comparison to Maul’s unrelenting rage, an anger so deep, so broken in the Force that it had allowed him to survive, bisected, stranded in a garbage heap, for years.

Maul’s hands, Obi-wan had noticed, never shook.

Cool metal meets his lips. Obi-wan takes another gulp, the cheap, barely diluted liquid razing what is left of his esophagus. 

Maul had razed Raydonia, too, burning it, fires towering, swallowing, suffocating what little life had been left as witness to his terror.

Pain gives focus. Focus, as Obi-wan knows all too well, is central to the life of a Jedi, to his relationship with the Force. He briefly wonders if this is how it is with the Sith, if they torture and maim and kill by means of a million small cuts as a way to focus.

It’s disgusting, a perversion of everything meant to be be good in the galaxy.

It’s also highly effective.

The battle on Florrum shouldn’t have him so distracted. Unlike Raydonia, unlike Naboo, unlike Geonosis, he knew what - who - awaited him on that dusty backwater.

And yet it still hadn’t been enough.

Not for Adi Gallia.

His hands had been steady. But his eyes had widened, unable tear themselves away from the gruesome image of Adi’s skewered, smoking corpse. His hands had not wavered as he leapt from the fallen speeder, vision filtered through the crimson blade at the side of the enemy, his body, his thoughts steel as he landed a single kick at Savage, his own blue weapon raised to cleave the bastard in two.

Hate, anger, fear - it wasn’t that a Jedi never felt these emotions. They were sentients, and even Yoda himself manifested moments of irritation, the closest to any negative emotion the old troll had likely come close to in many years.

It was part of their training, to familiarize themselves with these negative thoughts, to identify their triggers, to understand what was at the heart of that ball of anger, to be able to pull at the thread which would undo the dangerous tangle in a single motion.

Or, that’s what it should be. What he tried to teach Anakin, tried to communicate to Ahsoka. 

That’s what he should have done for himself years ago.

Instead, that knot of unpleasantness only grew, threads multiplying, sprouting, decaying, only to rise again, twice as terrible, twice as tangled. And each time Obi-wan shoved the whole ugly shape into his metaphorical closet, shaking hands the only indication anything had been at all wrong, slamming the door shut with a silent curse and a deft movement to his belt.

Enough alcohol locked the whole thing away, buried under layers of thick, woolen denial

Better quality than the blankets we receive from the Republic, he had mused once, fingering the standard-issue military fabric draped over his knees.

Obi-wan reached for the flask stationed on the floor. Nearly steady now.

His hands had not shaken as they brandished the dual weapons - his own and Adi’s. Backed against a wall, at impossible odds, the image of a fallen body playing on repeat -

He had been confident, steady as he jumped onto the back of Hondo’s speeder, even as his growing unease wrested against the heavy locked door. He had not shaken as he excused himself to one of Hondo’s last intact holding cells, stopping by the abandoned bar to swipe several bottles of alcohol likely made in some ‘fresher still.

A precautionary measure. He had felt fine, good even. Steady, focused in the Force.

Perhaps this time he had been able to banish that knot once and for all.

And then the closet burst open.

He nearly dropped the bottles - once, twice, three times. Only with the minor application of the Force had he been able to open the damned things, bringing the aperture to his lips, his swallows as desperate as those of a man stranded in the desert.

It had been an hour. Maybe two. He would need to report to the Council. Make arrangements for transport back to Republic space - for both himself and Adi’s body, he thought grimly.

Obi-wan lifted an arm.

Steady.

No tremor, no spasms. Not even a twitch.

Crimson threads gathered, contorting, a haphazard weave of guilt, anger, and sadness - no pattern, meaning, no reason why. 

(You know why, Kenobi).

Strong hands grabbed the traitorous little ball, shoving it to the back of the closet once again, the heavy door slamming shut with a dangerous finality.

Steady hands turned the lock as long, confident fingers cast the key far into the ether of his own mind.

Somehow, it always came back.

Hands. His hands. Which did not shake, did not waver - reached for the communicator buried in his utility belt.

Obi-wan sat straight. His vision remained fuzzy, his mind a delicate balance of temporary, blunted euphoria and rigid logic.

It would have to do for now.

With a sigh, he pressed the activator.

“This is General Kenobi…"

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

“Pizza’s on the way,” Eddie announces. He flops down on the sofa, crashing right into Billy’s side and smiling when the little outburst goes unnoticed. “I got mushrooms and cherry tomatoes like you like.”

Without looking up from his book, Billy hums. Turns the page gently while Eddie noses a kiss against his cheek.

“Did you get plain cheese for Stevie?” Billy asks.

“Yup, with stuffed crusts.”

Billy nods once. Zones back into his book, if the way that his breathing softens is any indication. Eddie scoots closer. Glances at the page and implements the five finger rule that Billy showed him — and determines before he’s even halfway down that this book is way over his head.

“Dude, what kind of Old Testament shit is this?”

It takes Billy a moment to finish the sentence that he’s reading before his eyes stop skimming back and forth.

“The Vampyre by John Polidori,” Billy says. “It’s the original vampire novel.”

“I thought Dracula was the original vampire.”

Billy taps the page lightly with his thumb.

“This was like seventy years before Bram Stoker’s Dracula was published. Stoker’s novel is actually considered an adaptation of this one.”

Eddie nods. Leans his head against Billy’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him.

“Then why not just read Dracula?”

“Because I’m reading it next.”

“God, you’re such a goth, y’know that?”

A small smile blooms on Billy’s face as he shakes his head.

“I don’t listen to the music.”

“C’mon, I’ve heard you bopping to Siouxsie and the Banshees before.”

“One of Max’s mixes,” Billy excuses.

“The Cure?”

“Jonathan left his tape in my car and I haven’t given it back yet.”

There’s a slight pause. Eddie sits up enough to look at his partner, quirking a brow.

“Since when do you hang around Byers?”

Billy purses his lips.

“I don’t. He works part-time at the library.”

“He’s showing you music in your car.” Eddie spreads a grin and Billy’s face begins to burn a flustered shade of red. “You have a little crush on him, don’t you?” When Billy doesn’t say anything, Eddie snickers. “You definitely have a type, that’s all I’m saying.”

“No I don’t.”

“No you don’t have a crush on him or no you don’t have a type?”

Billy huffs and waves Eddie off with his hand.

“Either.”

“Lanky brunets,” Eddie lilts. “Typically of the brooding persuasion.”

“You do not brood, Munson, you’re the most bubbly motherfucker on the planet.”

“That’s why I said typically, babe, let’s try and keep up.” Eddie nuzzles closer and chews his lip. “Y’know, mostly based on Steve and Jonathan. Maybe a little bit of Hagan.”

“You’re putting way too much thought into this.”

“There’s definitely a pattern, wouldn’t you say? Lanky brunets…” Eddie wonders. “Brooding, pale skin, brown eyes…”

Billy’s eyes stay locked on the page that he hasn’t finished reading yet, jaw set as Eddie tippy-taps his fingers against the blond’s chest.

“Is your type just… vampires?” Eddie muses.

“Energy vampires, maybe,” Billy grumbles. He dog-ears the page and finally shuts his book, laying it in his lap. “But no.”

Eddie chuckles. Flattens his hand against Billy’s sternum and smooths his palm back and forth.

“Seems like it to me.”

“This may surprise you, but I’m not so shallow that I only care about looks.”

“So…” Eddie trails off. “There’s an outlier.”

“Edd—“

“Who is it?”

“I’m not doing this right now.”

“You’re my boyfriend, you’re contractually obligated to tell me about your hot man crushes.”

Billy presses his lips together and doesn’t budge when Eddie tries to shake an answer out of him. Eddie is about to start more roughly demanding when the doorbell rings, and it derails his train of thought long enough for Billy to slip away from him.

The blond jumps up from his seat to answer the door, practically ripping the door off of its hinges when he opens it. Light pours into the entryway, obstructed by a tall figure.

“Thanks for ordering Surfer Boy Pizza where we make everything fresh except…” the voice trails off momentarily, nearly cut off by the bubbly laugh that exits the guy’s lips. “‘Sup, lil’ dude!”

A hand shoots out to fist bump Billy, which he barely reacts fast enough to reciprocate. Still, the blond spreads a dopey little smile.

“Hey, Argyle,” he greets. Soft, for how flustered he is.

“Man, I didn’t know you lived right here or I would’ve been hopping the fence for backyard smoke seshes.”

Billy fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a new situation. Still getting settled.” Which is technically true if you count the box that’s been sitting unpacked in the corner for two weeks. “You should still come by sometime, though. When, uh… you’re not working, obviously.”

“Def!” Argyle says. “That’ll be fourteen fifty, bro.”

Billy digs in his wallet for a moment before he slaps a couple of bills in the other guy’s hand, which he trades the pizza for.

“Keep the change.”

Argyle furrows his brows.

“You gave me thirty.”

“Then I guess you have some extra cash for snacks when we hang out,” Billy lilts.

Argyle nods. Spreads a grin as he pockets the cash and fist bumps Billy once more.

“Sweet,” he says, and turns on his heel. “I’ll be seeing you around, lil’ dude!”

Billy waves briefly before he kicks the door shut, turning to walk into the kitchen and stopping in his tracks when he sees Eddie smirking at him from the couch.

The blond’s face turns ten different shades of red in a matter of seconds.

“The pizza guy, huh?” Eddie teases. “I see it.”

“I haven’t seen him much since I left Cali, alright? He just moved in with Jonathan and I haven’t had time to visit.”

“Right.”

Billy shifts his weight on his feet, furrowing his brows.

“Am I under investigation or something?”

“Nerds.”

“What?”

“Nerds. That’s your type. You like ‘em kinda dorky and way too interested in their hobbies.”

Billy scoffs.

“Stevie isn’t a nerd.”

“He’s a sports guy. You can twist it how you want, but he’s a nerd about it.”

“Tommy, then.”

“Too into cars.”

“Jon— actually, I understand that one, but Argyle is definitely not a nerd.”

Eddie chuckles and leans his elbow against the armrest, setting his chin in his hand thereafter.

“How many weed strands can that guy name? More than I can, and I can name a lot.” Eddie clicks his tongue when Billy has no counter argument. “Plus, he’s super passionate about his job. He talked my ear off about toppings for twenty minutes one time when I called in.”

Billy sighs. Sets the pizza down on the counter and crosses his arms, clearly working things over in his head. Eddie gets up in the meantime and strolls over. Gently pushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face before he laces his arms around his neck.

“Jokes aside, I think it’s nice that you like so many different people.”

Blue eyes meet his, and Billy softens. Sets his hands on Eddie’s hips.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I mean, you have lots of love to give, y’know? Of course it’s spilling over, sweetheart. Your cup is full.”

Billy chews his lip thoughtfully.

“I never looked at it that way before.”

Eddie leans closer. Kisses the corner of his partner’s mouth while he toys with a lock of his hair, soft to the touch and free of product.

“Glad my ramblings were of use to you,” Eddie chuckles. “Wanna have a sit-down with sleeping beauty after dinner? Talk some strats for getting you out of the friend zone?”

“I dunno if I wanna do that.”

“I’m pretty sure Steve’s had the hots for Tommy for a while now, so maybe we can knock everything out all at once.”

Billy raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not crushing on anyone? I might have to do some digging on you too, Munson, mister hopeless romantic.”

“I’m fine with bothering you two for eternity. I’m actually making it my life’s goal as we speak.”

“Of course you are.”

Billy ropes him closer, pulls him up to his tippy toes so he can press his lips to his neck — one of Eddie’s many, many weaknesses.

One of the others is, unfortunately, being manhandled. Even though Billy is gentle, it sends a thrill down Eddie’s spine when he’s lifted effortlessly.

“Want me to pay you back for the pizza?” Eddie breathes.

He makes a surprised noise when a large hand squeezes his ass.

“Keep your money, baby,” Billy lilts. Low and affectionate and now Eddie is the one getting flustered. “Wanna go wake Stevie up so we can eat and have our little discussion?”

Eddie nods. Shudders when Billy mouths at his throat and holds him ever closer.

“Yeah…” he manages.

Then Billy releases him. Let’s his socked feet touch the floor once again before he’s patting his behind and ushering him out of the kitchen.

Eddie has this sneaking suspicion that they’re gonna do way more than talk after they eat.

[canumoveurseatup-no]

ooh ohh!! may you please write a blurb about Plum being a complete mommy's girl and Bucky loving Reader and Plum's connection, but also wishing he had that with Plum!! can be slightly angsty but mostly fluff plz 🥺

AWH I ALWAYS IMAGINED PLUM BEING A DADDY’S GIRL 🥺 Plum is aged up a bit in this

———

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Bucky sulked silently. He was watching you rock her back and forth in her arms as she slept.

“What would make you say that?” You frown at his words, “You’re her dad. She adores you, Buck,”

“But she doesn’t let me hold her when she cries, she doesn’t want me to help her when she’s sick. Only you, she won’t let me read her her favorite story. What’s wrong with me?”

“Baby,” you move Plum into his arms and she murmurs softly in her sleep, cuddling right into him “There are just some things mama does better. Ever notice notice how she doesn’t let me cut her pancakes? Or let me brush her teeth? She only likes it when you’re the one singing and dancing with her to her favorite kidz bop cd,”

“I don’t know… I just expected her to be a papa’s girl,” Bucky kisses the forehead of his gorgeous daughter, “I just don’t like it when she cries because of me,”

“She’s a mama and papa’s girl, Buck,” you run your hand over his head, “She cries because she’s an emotional character but we both handle it well. She loves you no matter what,”

Bucky wanted to believe your words but he’s seen how Plum is with you and he just feels it’s not like that with him. He’s glad you and her are the way that you two are, he just feels like he’s missing out sometimes.

“I feel like I’m a terrible dad somehow,” he huffed, not wanting tears to come to his eyes. Bucky always wanted to make sure he was the best dad he could be and he wasn’t feeling that, “I’ll be better. I just gotta find out what I’m doing wrong”

He was truly convinced something was wrong with his parenting, when he doesn’t realize your daughter adores him to the ends of the universe and back.

“She’s another you,” Bucky stared down at Plum and adores the way her brown cheeks shine and the way her mouth slightly hangs open as she sleeps, “I want to be the best dad I can for her. M-maybe she doesn’t have a strong connection with me because I-I don’t look like her,”

“Oh please,” you whisper yell and slap his shoulder, “You think she cares about that? She doesn’t know either. She knows you’re her dad! And nothing is gonna change that. I just happened to be the one carrying her for a good nine months so the connection is internal. My body created housed a soul. Connections are always different between parents,”

You miss his cheeks and you can tell your words mean something to him and helps relieve his stress for a minute.

“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. Doesn’t mean she’s not a papa’s girl. She’s our baby Bucky she’s gonna act different for each of us. That’s just the facts,”

“You’re right,” he kissed Plum’s head one more time and looks at you. He’s so blessed to have you two.

“But watch, I’m gonna win her heart fully and she’s gonna be team dad!,”

“One thing you need to realize is you already won her heart, baby”

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

can you do a jungkook drabble where the reader uses a cock ring on him and bounces on his dick for her added pleasure

It started off when Jungkook returned from tour, hadn’t seen you in so long, so excited to fuck you again, that he came within a couple of minutes. And you were being very generous by saying “minutes”, it would be more accurate to say a couple of thrusts. The first time you laughed it off, took it as a compliment; your boyfriend missed you so much he couldn’t control himself. But then it happened again two days later, and you thought, shouldn’t he have gotten over the excitement by now? The compliment was getting old very fast, you just needed to fuck, really. Long enough for you to cum, too, of course. So the third time Jungkook was too horny to keep himself from climaxing within the first five minutes of being inside you, you grabbed him by the chin and whispered a warning.

“Keep this up and I’ll have to get you in a cock ring, honey.”

He didn’t have to do it again, really. Just his reaction to your words told you you should go ahead and order one anyway. Picked out a pretty, pink one with knobs, that was vibrating as well. And when it finally arrived, you wasted no time in grabbing your boyfriend and setting him on the bed.

“Look, baby, I got you a gift.”

Jungkook looked at the ring with a frown, taking it in his hands to inspect it. Soft and squishy, yet with a tough head for the vibrations. “It’s so small,” he muttered under his breath. Jungkook was, well… pretty thick let’s say. How would he fit into that little thing?

You laughed at his concerned expression, moving closer to him. “Well, that’s the point, honey,” you said as you got on the bed with him, a hand grabbing him by the neck. “It’s small because it’s supposed to be squishing you.” Along with your words, you clenched your grip around his neck, making him gasp. “Squish you tight so that you don’t cum without my permission. Get it, baby? Tonight you don’t get to cum unless I tell you to.” Jungkook’s cheeks got a bit red, and you felt his Adam’s apple bop under your palm. He nodded slightly, and you smiled. “Good boy,” you hummed. “You’ll let me fuck myself on your cock as if you were just a sex toy, baby? Use you for my own pleasure, for as long as I want?”

“Yes,” Jungkook rasped, breaths and voice coarse.

You released his neck. Motioned to the rest of his body. “Strip,” you gave him a straightforward order. And Jungkook was so quickly on his feet, rushing to take his clothes off and throw them away. Always eager to please, eager to do everything perfectly. He presented himself completely naked in front of you, loving the way your eyes raked over his form almost with judgment. And then you pressed a finger on his chest to have him fall on the bed again. Excitement was getting at him and you noticed how he was slowly getting hard. “Don’t!” you scolded with a pointed finger. “Don’t get hard, Kookie, I need to put this on you first.”

He bit his lip. “I- I can’t control it…”

You sighed, rolling your eyes a bit. And Jungkook let a tiny moan out at your expression. Dick twitching and getting even harder. “Such a dirty slut,” you said while clicking your tongue. And you quickly grabbed the lube from your nightstand, realizing you had to be quick if you didn’t want your boyfriend to reach full hardness yet. You let a few drops on the ring, covering mostly the inside, and quickly moved to get it on his tip. He was already half-hard but thankfully you managed to slide it down.

“Ah-” Jungkook gasped, and his dick jumped in your hands. You scolded him again and pushed the ring down with more effort, finally reaching to get it at his base.

“How’s that, baby?”

Jungkook was whimpering. “It’s- it’s…” You spat on your hand and ran it up and down his length a bit, getting him to full hardness and, of course, making him moan pathetically. He was harder than ever, perhaps even bigger, the ring straining on him and looking ready to break. “It’s tight,” he finally found his words. “But it’s-ss good.”

You smirked proudly. Took a step back to remove your clothes as well before laying him down completely and straddling his hips. “Let’s see how good it actually is.” You clicked the small vibrator at the front of the ring, and Jungkook yelped, hips jerking up a bit. You held him down, clicking your tongue at him. “Easy, baby boy. Don’t be so desperate, yeah? This isn’t about you.”

“Fuck-” he moaned, throwing his head back. Hands into tight fists as he struggled to be good for you. And when you lined him up with your entrance, dropping down on him slowly, he was spitting curses like it was his only way to breathe. The cock ring restricting his blood flow, yet making him more sensitive in a way.

When you sunk completely down, you reached the ring, its point hitting straight against your clit and gifting you its soft yet nice vibrations. You gasped, stomach clenching at the feeling. You were doing this because Jungkook couldn’t last, yet you might embarrass yourself and cum super fast instead. You started bouncing on his cock, watching as your boyfriend was sweating underneath you, the whole session feeling like constant edging to him. So good, so hot. And you bounced until you were panting and sweating as well. Then you stayed down, him buried deep inside, cock ring poking you in the best way, and started grinding back and forth, or in circles. You couldn’t get over how good his dick felt inside you, whether it was the ring that was doing its magic or just the pleasure of having Jungkook underneath you like that.

You came because of the vibrations right on your clit, but didn’t stop. Kept fucking yourself on his dick until you literally couldn’t move anymore -after another orgasm- and enough time had passed that Jungkook was whining, the ring getting painful on him by then.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey,” you comforted him, stroking his hot face lovingly and getting off him. “You were so good, baby. So fucking good for me.” Jungkook couldn’t even speak, just mewls leaving his lips like drool. You started pulling the ring off him carefully, with the assistance of more lube. “You can cum now, baby. I’ll let you cum inside me since you were such a good boy. I’ll bounce on your cock a bit more until you fill me up nice and good, huh? How does that sound?”

And Jungkook, predictably, could only moan at your dirty words, brain fucked completely out of him.

Masterlist

[miekasa]

at your touch, one by one

more little touches with levi, eren, jean, armin, mikasa, and sasha

levi likes the way you look in dainty jewelry of any kind, and he isn’t picky about what you choose to wear. however, he does have a thing for things looking proper, so when he sees the chains of your necklaces twisted together, or the pendant facing the wrong way, he’ll gingerly reach out to fix it for you without a word. if you ask, he’ll put it on for you, tactful fingers helping you close the impossibly tiny clasps, and lay the metal against your neck. he’s careful, gentle, takes his time, and always leaves his fingertips lingering on your skin before he pulls his hand away.

eren, to no surprise, believes that biting you is truly a form of affection and long lost love language. he does it when he’s bored, or when he thinks you look bored (you concentrating on your work and pouting because of your hundreds of assignments is not synonymous with being bored, eren). leans onto you when you’re watching netflix together, turns his face into your shoulder and then bites you like he’s not expecting to he bopped on the head for that. he claims it’s okay though, because he always kisses it better for you.

jean is also a fan of jewelry, but he is partial to rings. he’s partial to holding your hand and bringing to your lips to kiss the metal around your fingers, and then the spot directly above it. he does it to the front and the back, then keeps your hands intertwined. he’s a gentleman, so he’ll kiss your hand with or without the rings; lips lingering in places where your jewelry would usually be. his kisses are always a little bit more pointed, and linger a little bit longer on your ring finger. one day, he swears he’ll give you a ring you’ll never want to take off.

contrary to popular belief, mikasa can be quite playful, and it comes out when you wear ripped jeans with large enough holes in them. if you’re seated next to her, she’ll always tease you by slipping her fingers under your jeans through the holes. mostly to tickle you, sometimes just to mess with you. sometimes she’s a little more deliberate, slowly seeking out your semi-clothed thighs and pushing only two fingers past the hole at a calculated pace. the one in your jeans, of course.

armin’s body is always a little bit hotter than usual, but he claims to be cold constantly because his fingers are never warm. so when he sees you in your oversized sweaters, he always takes the opportunity to slip his hands into the ends of your loose sleeves and warm them up against your skin. you’re warm from the weight and softness of your clothing, and his position doesn’t allow you much room to pull away from him; not when he’s got you by the forearms and you’re practically sharing the sweater at this point. he’s a cheeky little shit, but is always sure to cup your face after, with his now warmed palms, and press a kiss to your forehead.

sasha likes when you wear dangly earrings, to toy with them and watch them swing back and forth at the touch of her pointer finger. she finds a wear to mess with your earrings even if they’re studs, though; twisting the shiny jewels when you’re in close enough proximity, pressing your ear lobe between her pointer and thumb just for the fun of it. she likes to fold your ears over and tug on them before running away. she expects you to chase after her, and it’s probably in your best interest that you do; she’ll just come back and mess with you more if you don’t.