#overkill at the very least...

[thelucidduchess]

[thisperfectmonsoon]

a badge of honor, if I do say so myself🎖️

[tonycries]

Rockstar! Choso who can’t figure out why every song he writes is suddenly a love song…and what the hell was that last one named after you? He must be going mad.

Rockstar! Choso who feels so at odds with that persona he’s meant to put up - with the tattoos and the piercings and the eyeliner. Hell, at least you liked it…would it really be overkill to get you initials tattooed on his hip?

Rockstar! Choso whose fans speculate that he’s dating someone - he must be, right? There’s no way he’s looking so sappy during interviews and glancing at his phone way too much during livestreams. There’s absolutely no way he isn’t - in fact, more than being heartbroken, they’re concerned whenever he gets that heartbroken look on his face n’ admits he’s single.

Rockstar! Choso subtweeting about you - which only fuels the flames to those rumors. Babbling nonsense about your hair n’ halfway through writing a sonnet about your eyes before management locks him out of his account and makes him a private one instead because DAMN-

Rockstar! Choso who looks for you after every concert, practically running off the screen, shovelling past a few poor fans to meet you all the way at the very back of that dark, dingy club they frequent - “S-so uhh…did ya like the song?”

[muu-kun]

What Makes Your Muses Body Unique?

Simple premise. Give 5 (or more) headcanons about your muses' body. Hands, eyes, feet, birthmarks, tricks--anything! Tagged by: @tximidity

Features spanning across the ages: Past (bottom icon) and Present (top icon)

Heart shaped face seen in the detailing and relationship between the roundness of his face around his eyes and the angles of cheeks until they meet to form a pointed chin.

I've discussed it before, but I'm mentioning once more (as well as including an image) the fact he has what is known as clinodactyly. It is isolated to three fingers on each hand-- pinky, index, and ring-- with each one varying in severity from one another. All of which in that exact order. These fingers of his are also all double jointed. The bottom knuckles, however, in ALL of his fingers are bulbous in shape. They curvatures of them fit perfectly amongst each other like a puzzle. The same cannot be said about the top knuckles, though, as gaps surround his middle fingers on each sides.

He has a silly little scar at a place very few can see. One of which acquired from an injury sustained as a teenager as a result of doing something he had ought to not be up to in the first place. In an attempt to climb over a metal fence into an area he'd otherwise not been permitted into, and unsupervised at that, he managed to get comically stuck in his hurdle over it by way of his shorts getting caught onto a sticking out piece of metal. Rather than proceed with caution, he adamantly lunged downwards with all of his effort, slicing through his attire and that of the top of his gluteal cleft to the inches just above it. It isn't entirely noticeable unless one is truly looking in that area, and yet in knowing of it the male can't quite help himself from finding joy in its existence. Especially when considering the fact it acts as his nearly invisible tail each time he excitedly sways his hips as though he's wagging it via an energetic stim.

Another feature he finds to be a delight about himself is the fact he has an outie belly button. He's never wished to cosmetically change it in anyway as it has never caused him any pain or problems. He'll never be able to get a piercing there, no, but that's okay on account it looks cute as a button on its own already. It also rests perfectly within his softened stomach. It is where his fat cells deposit themselves most prominently, and has a tendency to consistently bloat forward due to a combination of stored negativity and a hormone imbalance. Muu always has, and always will, calls it his baby fat.

Speaking of body fat, Muu is otherwise rather lacking in that department as he is generally petite across the majority of his physique. Some of which is contributed to an active lifestyle dictated by consistently walking his dog, going on foot or by bicycle to places close enough to not require his vehicle, or public transport even, routine pacing in instances in which he's attempting to physically regulate out an intense emotion, a whole food diet centered on his entirely vegan lifestyle, and plenty, PLENTY of sleep. Muu's actively in bed by no later than 10pm an any given evening as he for one doesn't like to exist in the dark any longer than he has to, and also because he just is very invested in listening to his body for queues it needs an abundance of rest. Consider yourself lucky if you ever invite him to something taking place after eight pm, because by then he'd ideally like to already he in his jammies with the intention of unwinding and settling down for slumber. His slim frame is also a contribution of an underlying eating disorder centered on withholding food from himself whenever he's under the impression that he ought to be punished for his perceived failures of the day; however, he's growing more inclined to forget such a habit in favor of snacking on vitamin rich treats as hunger and hurt go more together than the version of himself who started up the habit in the first place knew about. He's also taking on the role of gentle parenting himself, which does sometimes mean sneaking himself vegan cookies to boost positivity while negative voice inside his head is distracted. All in all, he weighs an astounding 115lbs / 52kg. Already on the thin side, where one can notice it the most is in his teeny, tiny ankles. Them and his wrists are minute in their circumferences, which isn't entirely of any surprise as both his hands and feet are small for even a man of his stature. Fun fact: both his shoe size and his ring size are that of a size seven in traditional American sizing.

[multch]

Thoughts.

Art the clown x reader [18+]

CW: actually smut \ afab masterbation

Your boss admires your dedication to staying back late to finish off repairing most nights. What he doesn't know is your affiliation with the ‘Miles County Killer’.

Who knew sewing pays in a good view…

You whipped back as the bloody black and white suit whacked you in the face. If art was anything- it certainly wasn't subtle. The smell was revolting but what did you expect? Daisies? Of course he’d smell like a dead animal, he’s a murderer for Christ's sake! Still, you would've appreciated it if he at least let you set down the jacket you had to repair first- or had the decency to cover up a little instead of walking around the studio with everything out on display.

Tonight marks the 3rd year since you had first encountered this killer clown. You worked at a humble costume shop- Often very late to scramble enough of a paycheck to pay rent, utilities, whatever, ect.

On the strange night you two met, he had walked in- completely skipping past you- and searched for some sewing supplies. He went so far as to have even checked out the staff room you had accidentally left unlocked. Regardless, he eventually waddled up to your counter and dinged the bell on your desk several times. He had waved his hands around like a maniac trying to make sense until you realised he was gesturing towards the sewing needle in your hand. If he wasn’t so charming, maybe you would’ve called the police on him right then and there.

Maybe you should’ve...

Since then, you always patched up his ripped and tattered clown costume and he would repay you by helping out around the shop when you worked late. Repairing shelves, moving boxes and pestering you incessantly while doing so. 

It was a shock when you had first discovered his more malicious side. The ”Miles county killer” plastered on every television screen for miles. You couldn’t tell what had scared you more; Art’s heinous acts or the simple fact that he seemed to spare you.

But why?

The question haunted you. Your moral compass never seemed too correct however you understood the evil that seemed to possess him was devilish. What you couldn’t understand was what a being so sinful could've thought about a seamstress that made him show not only mercy, but companionship…

Honk! Honk!

Art could’ve killed you with how well he’d scare you. They didn’t call him the ‘Terrifier’ for nothing you thought. You were just minding your business- lost in thought- until Art practically made you jump out of your skin from his infuriating infatuation with his stupid little hand horn.

He had crept right up behind you and placed himself close enough to feel the cold air escape his lungs. You didn’t know how you didn’t notice but his horn was practically touching your ear. The sound it let out was more than enough to make your eyes widen. It had startled you so much you fell backwards on your stool. Luckily for you though, Art was there to catch you.

His skin was smooth and frigid. His hands having responded by grasping your waist with his rough hands- You were accidentally pressed right up against his naked chest. 

His touch felt electric. The contrast between your human heat and his icy exposure was a feeling like no other. He helped you back up onto your seat but by then it was too late. Fuck.

Seeing him naked was one thing but feeling his bare touch was another. Your minor interest in him had easily turned into obsession over the course of the last few years. A mysterious stranger showing up out of the blue. Saturated in blood. Torn up and often mutilated.  How couldn't you be intrigued?

It felt like there was no one else in the world he treated like you.

You felt special.

Protected, even.

You tried your best to resume your repair but by the time you reached the hole by the gusset of his suit, you had lost it.

*

Maybe excusing yourself to “go to the bathroom” might’ve been a bit overkill but there was no way you wouldn’t melt in the heat that you felt just simply looking at him. His playful taunts. The way he bats his eyelashes at you. Even his disgusting black smile!

These ‘normal’ acts of his felt misconstrued into one big flirty mess. 

Despite your efforts, you were clearly just too horny to stop. Every time you think about him in this moment, you couldn’t help but remember how he’s outside right now in nothing but a mask and his flimsy little top hat. In times like this, you couldn’t help but shake your fist in the air at Art’s infamous refusal to wear anything under his suit.

(You tried to convince him once by buying him a pair of boxers, but in retaliation he had ripped out the crotch and walked out- giving you the full view of his “pencil”)

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking but deciding to work one out sounded great right now.

You lent up against the red tile wall of the staff bathroom. It was cold. Perfect.

Slowly fondling yourself, your hands snake around your skin. One climbing up your stomach to slip under your bra. The other sneaking down the waistband of your shorts.

God, he made you so wet from just one touch. You slid in one finger first- wincing back at your contraction around so little. It made you only more hungry for what your eyes had feasted on so often yet you had never been given the chance to taste it yourself.

Seeing it made you understand why this clown always went commando because he really was hiding away a whole balloon animal. It was BIG.

Imagining it made your mouth feel empty..

You slip in another 2 fingers. Thrusting into yourself enough to make you press hard against the wall behind you. You were so cold but inside was a warmth you wanted him to feel so badly.

Your eyes squeezed down hard. You wanted to see him. His face. His body, as he thrusted into you.

You wanted him to trap you beneath his form with his inhuman strength.

To be scared he'd rip you in half if you ran away was a major turn on for you -the idea of becoming less than a victim of his by becoming a slave for his enjoyment.

Imagining it made your pussy throb, feeling empty despite your aggressive movement…

You tried to muffle your moans but the more you indulged in your fantasy, the more you struggled to show some self restraint.

A fourth finger, then a fifth.

Pounding harder and faster into your core, you thought back to all the toys you brought reimagining them as his girth. 

Art was more than a friend to you. You ached for him nightly. You felt him in your core. You've dreamt of his touch and woken up in a hot, sticky sweat because of him.

You wanted to be honest with him but only Hell knows what he'd do to you if he didn't feel the same.

The possibilities made you salivate. Being his victim would be an indulgent death for sure..

You feel yourself very quickly feeling your release build as an air of tension fills the room. It's sickly sweet.

Rubbing your pretty little pussy until it's puffy and squirting when he's in the room outside was your tipping point.

You let out one final wince before your knees give out- causing you to crouch down on the frozen tile floor. 

You can't help but imagine it's him holding you after a scene of absolute passion.

*

It's only been 10 minutes since you had excused yourself but once you had made your way back out, Art was nowhere to be seen.

You're embarrassed to say the least but you decide to push forward with your plans for tonight. 

You turn around to close the bathroom door behind you only to find a familiar face greeting you instead.

There stood Art the clown, leaning up against the wall with a shit eating grin- All while still being fully naked.

Oh god no…

[gremlingottoosilly]

König x Bartender!Reader who works at a strip club. He’s tipping reader the big bucks and she’s convinced he’s just trying to get her in one of the private rooms, but that’s definitely not her job.

This guy is definitely trying to get into your pants. Unfortunately for him, your belts are rather secure. He is not slick about his intentions - always looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing in the world, even though you barely dress up for work and your makeup doesn't look all that good in the dim light of the bar. You weren't hired to be an eye candy - although you have to wear more revealing things than what you probably would have liked, you're still as quiet as a mouse, never getting attention away from the girls. They are the true stars of the show - hot, perfect, so pretty you can cut yourself on the sharpness of their eyeliner. You're just...here, kinda. Not ugly enough to make people wince at the sight of you, but also definitely not hot enough to steal the show. Konig doesn't get the memo, though. Oh no, he is way too fucking invested in liking the way your cleavage shows up every time he asks you to reach for whatever bottle is the lowest on the little shelf under the bar table. You tried to change the bottle placement, but it seems like this man doesn't really care as long as it would make you move in a way that makes you really uncomfortable. You hate to admit it, but you almost...almost like the way he looks at you, though. It's nice to have eyes on you for once. It's nice, really. Until it suddenly isn't. Konig is very persistent, you see - he sees what he wants, and he doesn't really care if you have different opinions and desires for your next big break. He looks at the way you look and wants to have you with him, even though there are plenty of beautiful women who want to get with him. Konig doesn't care, only having eyes on you...at least he tips well - at least he is generous enough with money, so you can pretend you really want it. It's only when he forces you to press your back against the wall of the bar and gets his hands fully into your cleavage that you understand that the light flirting you used on him to get more tips was completely overkill. It's only when you saw for real just how desperate he was to get to you, you knew how fucked you were. Oh, but at least he won't allow you to work here anymore. At least he has enough money to make sure you would be only making drinks for him from now on. Aren't you excited?

[bunniesanddeer]

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either. 

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room. 

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face. 

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again). 

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin. 

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is). 

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back. 

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help. 

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x F! reader, established relationship, risky oral sex (f), public sexual acts, implied PIV sex Summary: Eddie needs help getting away from the cops. You know just where to hide him. WC:2.3K

A/N: Been rewatching Desperate Housewives and was inspired by that one scene where Gaby hides Carlos from Victor on her wedding day. iykyk. The image in the middle is not meant to represent the reader's features, skin color, body type or other. It is only meant to help visualize her attire.

It was meant to be a surprise, something you put so much thought into and effort to keep hidden.

You had help too of course. Natalie was a saint in your book, helping to keep your surprise under wraps all while using her skills as an exceptional seamstress to flawlessly execute your design. Even with this kind of outfit being a first for her.

It definitely didn't deter or daunt her though. For as long as you've known her, since way back when you both sported matching gap toothed smiles and scraped knees at the sand box, she was always fueled by a challenge.

So away from the sunlight that beamed in through the store's front window and the mannequins dressed impeccably on display, you take your time getting dressed in the back of the store where all the changing rooms were there in a row. No other roaming eyes around.

Once everything seemed to be in place, you stepped out and up on to the little platform in front of the floor length mirrors and you couldn't help but smile proudly when you saw yourself.

It wasn't finished yet, still needing a few more details to be stitched on but fucking hell, you were so thrilled with it already.

The daisy white blouse ran down the length of your arms and to your wrists, its long, double layered puff sleeves going well with the ruched collar and off shoulder style. It fit well underneath the white and cream colored corset in the middle which kept your waist cinched with gold ribbon laced through it and your breasts lifted up high, almost spilling over the neckline. Exactly how you had asked for.

The corset was held together with more gold ribbon tied off into dainty bows where they connected over your shoulders with thick straps. And the skirt, made of the same material with floral detailing, flowed down, the hem of your dress reaching far enough to cover your toes with your heels on and most of all, the hoop skirt, without which the silhouette couldn't have been achieved, was much easier to handle and get into than what you had expected.

It was roomy and comfortable, making your skirt billow out in a very elegant way. As silly as it might be, It's hard not to feel like a princess or at least, princess-like when you gaze back at yourself in the mirror.

The renaissance fair was still a week away, your first time attending with Eddie, and you had full confidence that Nat could get it done it time. Maybe another fitting or two and the dress should be complete, you guessed.

"He's going to bust on the spot", she tells you plainly with a friendly smirk and your face warms up while you roll your eyes back playfully.

"You think so?" you half joked back.

"Yep. Just make sure. No stains, got it?", she replied, gesturing at the dress and you feign offence, sucking in a little fake gasp and clutching your pearls.

It's not that Nat disapproved. She just knew Eddie that well.

You're both interrupted when the landline in her little office down the corridor starts to ring. It makes her sigh and you smile understandingly as she mouths 'one sec' at you on her way out, leaving you to stand there in your outfit. You knew that with Nat, these phone calls could last anywhere between 5 minutes and 45 minutes.

You didn't mind however. In the silence, you were kept busy, running your hands all over the different kinds of materials and textures and the little detailing here and there. Even wondering if adding a few rhinestones might be overkill or not.

God, you hope Eddie likes it.

And as if on cue, you're startled when the front door flings open, the bell jangling wildly from the force of it. With Nat busy, you step off the platform and take small steps towards the noise, hoping she hadn't accidentally penciled a different client in at the same time as you like she had once before.

You stumble and narrowly trip on the carpet when you see him, whipping in every direction, searching searching searching until...

"There you are!...Jesus fucking Christ".

Whatever kind of rush Eddie was in is forgotten, slowing down to a very abrupt halt.

His eyes become so wide like he could probably take in all the details of your renaissance dress in one blink, his jaw so slack you're a little afraid he might dribble some drool on Nat's nice carpeting like waving a lamb chop in front of a bulldog.

"When you said you were helping Natalie out I didn't think-"

"It was meant to be a surprise" you sigh, shoulders slumping, having kept up the lie for almost an entire month, even with Eddie dropping you off and picking you up from the store every time you came in to having a fitting.

You fibbed about helping with some administrative work at her store and that was enough for Eddie. No questions asked. Why would he? he trusted you.

Though you can't lie about the way you feel when he looks you up and down right now, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch it but he's too afraid of wrecking it somehow.

He gets like this sometimes with you. To him, you're damn near porcelain, something to admire, something to handle very delicately. Not to be carelessly chipped and cracked.

"Wait, what's going on?", you remember to ask him because he's a little too busy staring at your tits in this dress right now.

"Oh, um...OH! right", he hurries up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, his face close to yours.

"Baby, you need to hide me".

Turning to look out the window, you quickly spot an officer in the distance stalking through the crowd and you know exactly who is responsible the scowl twisting his face.

"Damnit Eddie, were you dealing?", you hiss under your breath.

He winces while holding his index finger and thumb up, keeping only a hair's breadth of space apart between them. "Just a tiny little bit".

Trying to think fast, you know that whichever room you hide him in will be searched. Even in the smallest of spaces, if he were to crouch inside, all it would take was for the officer to lean over and find him huddled there, hauling your boyfriend over to the station to have his mugshot taken...again.

It gets worse when the closer he gets you begin to recognize him. Officer Delridge. Definitely not a fan of Eddie's. Not after that stunt he pulled with the fireworks on the fourth of July. In fact, you're pretty sure that if he were to take his hat off you'll still find the bald spot your boyfriend accidentally singed into his hair still growing back in.

It needed to be somewhere no one would think to look.

"I have an idea", you grab him by the wrist and pull Eddie along.

---

This is definitely the most insane thing you've ever done but you stand as stable as you can, pretending to fix your hair in the mirrors while you keep flicking your eyes around to try and spot Delridge approaching around the corner when the bell rings once more.

You're starting to sweat. That familiar beige uniform and the darker wide brimmed hat coming into view as he stomps over. It looks much better on Hopper than it does on him you can't help but note.

"'Scuse me ma'am", he grunts to get your attention and you turn around carefully and smile as naturally as you can manage.

"Just need to know if you've seen a certain individual come by here. Male. Dark hair. Long. Leather jacket. Jeans. you see anyone like that around?"

He doesn't seem to recognize you thankfully although you're sure most people you knew would have some trouble trying to place you in this outfit.

"Not that I recall", you calmly supply the lie easily. "Doubt I'd run into him here though," you gesture towards all the tailored dresses on display. "Is he dangerous?"

The question prompts a tiny pinch at your ankle.

Delridge looks unimpressed, his eyes still searching. "Only to himself if keeps this up". The man mutters and you press your teeth into your lower lip to keep from reacting.

"I'm still going to need to have a look around", he heads towards the changing rooms before you can even begin to reply, leaving him out of earshot.

"Eddie, you're fucking tickling me", you whisper.

"Sorry", a muffled whisper rises out from under your billowing skirt, his hair still tickling your inner thighs despite how still he attempts to stay. He doesn't mean it, you can tell because you can hear his goony little smile and feel his hands as they start to slope over the curves of your calves, his lips following the same path.

You're ready to reprimand him again but Delridge begins to work your last nerve, roaming near and far around the store, impossible to predict from which corner he might pop up. So you stay silent, stretching on a tight smile while Eddie's hands begin to grow more daring.

It's almost torturous how his breath puffs up at your panties, pressing his nose up against it to breath you in, no doubt to make the most out of this unique opportunity he's been blessed with.

You stagger for a moment when he fills his palms with your ass cheeks and begins squeezing, his teeth also sinking in to them gently. You consider stomping him as a way to get him to behave while he's huddled down there but if you're being entirely honest, you don't hate it.

The risk only fans the flames.

There's nothing you can do to stop it when you feel him move your panties to the side, or so you tell yourself when his tongue easily glides through your wet slit to taste you.

Now? Now?? Right damn now???

You didn't expect anything less from him.

Your hands slip down the front of your dress, hoping to weave your fingers through his curls but all you can do is grab fistfuls of the creamy material and bunch it up in your hands.

He's even able to wedge himself sideways between your legs, flicking the tip of his tongue over and over and over against your clit before he can get close enough to wrap his lips around it and suck messily.

"Shit- fuck- little more to the left" you hush out, kicking him in the knee when you hear a laugh bubble up from under your dress because he knows he's got you in the palm of his hand no matter how you might try to reprimand him.

"Everything seems to be in order"

You nearly screech when Delridge walks back in looking more pissed than before, clearly upset that he wasn't able to cuff Eddie and throw him in the back seat.

He looks at you. Really looks at you this time and not around you like when he first came in.

You don't like it.

Even Eddie goes still, the only movement being his spit and your slick dragging down your leg.

"Nice girl like you shouldn't get mixed up with that type. You take care now", he tips his hat at you and you paste on another smile, remaining statue still until you hear the bell chime again to signal his departure.

Frantically pulling up the layers of your dress, you unearth Eddie. He quits crouching and lays strewn out on his back, still half covered by your skirt, your feet on either side of his hips while he makes no effort to get back up.

"I wasn't done", he pout, lips pink and glossy with you.

He's quite literally gotten your panties in a twist now as the gusset has been pulled inside out.

"I just saved your ass. Is that all you have to say to me?", you ask surly, appearing more stern than you actually feel.

"No. You're beautiful" he says, looking at you once more like he had when he first set eyes on you like this. Only now he's not scared to touch you the way you like. The only chips and cracks he'll ever inflict on you are the ones you will let him, the ones you yearn for in the name of pleasure. And you know he'll fill them back in all good as new anyway with all the unending affection he'll pour into you. It isn't a maybe. It's a certainty.

"And I'm trying to thank you", he winks back at you.

This wasn't how you wanted him to see the dress but in some way, you ought to have expected something like this to happen. Well, not exactly this but things rarely ever went according to plan with Eddie. But with that came so much excitement, you can't help but like the unpredictability of it all. Besides, he always came through in the end.

"You really like it?", you ask hopefully, swishing your skirt from side to side so he could see it move.

"Are you kidding? darlin' you're a knockout," he moves the hem of your dress out the way so you can clearly see the boner he's got waiting for you behind those jeans.

"How pissed do you think Nat will be if you give me a tour of the dressing room?"

"Eddie there's not going to be a piece of this left if I let you do that", you giggle.

"Oh come on. maybe a little rip or two. nothing she can't fix. I'll be good. I'll be careful, I promise."

You gulp, remembering her warning regarding stains.

It's a good that she's the forgiving type.

"Hmm...somewhat to moderately", you answer his question. "So far as we clean up right and I pay her extra."

With that he plunges his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a wad of 50's secured with rubber bands of all colors.

"Done"

[spaceycat]

MORE CONGRESSMAN BUCKY PLS PLSPLSLSPSLSLS

YESS BABE!!!! YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP, ENJOY !! <3 (this is deprived from my congressman bucky barnes headcanons list !!)

⋆★⋆ hotel rooms & champagne ⋆★⋆

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: its ok im ok by tate mcrae (2:37)

Bucky takes you on every campaign, every event - flying on his private jet and booking at the best hotels. Upon your arrival, you don't have to lift a single bag or ask for a single thing. Bottles of champagne and wine in an ice bucket, chocolates and strawberries on a platter. You think it's overkill, after all you and Bucky have been dating for years now and you dont understand why he still spoils you the way that you do.

But you can't deny that view, of course Bucky took the penthouse suite at the very top of the hotel - multiple windows looking out onto the city below.

You walked into the bedroom, looking at the king sized bed in the middle of the room - a canopy draped over it. You sat down, taking off your shoes, deciding to go take a bath and just relax before the event later that night. Not before helping yourself to a glass of champagne.

Your favourite parts of these hotels is the large bath that usually accompanies it, Bucky took note of that and only rents out hotel rooms that have bathrooms up to your standards.

As the bath slowly filled up with warm water and bubbles, you looked out at the view of the city lights - you soon shed off your clothes, tying up your hair as to not get it wet. Getting into the bath.

As the warm water enveloped your skin, you let out a soft sigh - the aches from travelling and walking dissipating. You took a sip of the champagne from the glass, settling further in - so much so you didnt hear the bathroom door open.

There was Bucky, watching you like a hawk. He knew he should be unpacking or getting his speech ready or something, but you completely drew him in.

He'd slip off his suit jacket, placing it on one of the chairs in the large bathroom. "I knew I'd find you in here."

You looked up at him, "You can join me, waters warm." "Is that so?" "Just get in here." "Don't have to tell me twice."

He took off the rest of his clothes, setting them aside - moving into the water behind you, his chest against your back. Hands gliding over your slick skin. "You look beautiful..." He'd place a hand under your jaw, directing you so he could place a kiss to your lips.

The kiss quickly turned heated, Bucky then turned you around in his lap - looking up at you. "We should get ready for the gala." "Fuck the gala. They wont start until I'm there, they can wait." He'd move foward whispering in your ear,"You wanted this bath, now I get to fuck you in it."

The sex was purely animalistic, Bucky pushed you onto your hands in knees into the bathtub - leaving you to grab onto the edge for support. His grip on your hips were bruising as he fucked into you, needing to let off a little steam. He'd place a hand on your neck, tilting your head back to look at you in the eyes as he ruined you. With that leverage he then pulled you back into his lap, the new position adding new pleasure. Safe to say you came at least 3 times, all the while he talked you through it.

But he wasn't done there, he then pulled you out off the bathtub, pulling your legs around his waist as he kissed you - he didn't bother to dry the either of you off, simply tossing you down on the bed.

There he kissed down your body, then lapped at your pussy like it was a meal from the gods themselves - placing a hand on your abdomen to keep you from squirming and bucking your hips into his hot mouth. Eating out the cum he put in you just minutes before, and as he kissed you afterwards you tasted the both of you on his tongue but you didn't complain.

And then you had to get dressed up, or more like Bucky was being needy afterwards and helped you get dressed - deciding which dress you'd wear with what heels, kissing your shoulder and slipping off your dress strap as he sat in the bed covers pooled at his waist as you placed on your heels, he wanted to go again.

You go to the even, Bucky having a hand on your lower back as you shake other congressman's hands as you know in the back of your mind that the man beside you ruined you only hours before.

[yesimwriting]

thinking about bestfriend!felix who's known for being touchy within his social circle, so when he holds your hand as you walk around campus and leaves giggly kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck after a few drinks, you think nothing of it.

especially because it comes up in conversation from time to time. everyone that hangs out with him regularly enough has at least one story: felix smoothed circles against my back until i fell asleep on the bathroom floor after a party; he's kissed the top of my head twice; i've never seen him end a hug first.

and you've seen things--at parties, while studying, while out with friends in general. so you genuinely have no reason to think there's anything strange or different about the way he treats you, and neither does anyone else.

at first.

one night, when you're still new enough to felix and his world that you feel extremely out of place at a party that he invited you to, he calls you over to where he and his friends are sitting. you walk over to them, greeting everyone politely before moving to take the available space next to felix.

he grabs your wrist before you can actually sit. you're confused, but given little time to react. felix mumbles an absentminded, "c'mere" before pulling you towards his lap. it's a little flustering, but you sit, because that's just how felix is.

okay. normal enough. conversation continues. no one thinks twice about it. farleigh thinks it's a bit of overkill, but just assumes it's a combination of alcohol and maybe an attempt at laying the groundwork to hook up with you a little later in the night.

then, someone asks about potential vacation plans over break and farleigh brings up an inside joke from the last trip he and felix went on. it's casual, but it's clear that felix is supposed to say something.

farleigh looks over in time to see felix holding one of your hands to his lips. alright. still not the most egregious display of platonic affec--felix takes his time pressing kisses to each of your knuckles.

it's not just the gesture. it's the way felix watches your reaction through his lashes and the amount of care in his focus. as if you're the only one in the room. there's a patience there that's practically devoted.

maybe farleigh had it wrong. he thought you were just one of those platonic friends that felix would cart around for a few months before getting bored. maybe it's more romantic, or at the very least sexual.

then felix's eyebrows draw together. "you're cold." you start to say that you're fine, but before you can get the words out, felix is holding both of your hands between his.

in the beat that it takes farleigh to recover from the slightly nauseating display, the rest of the group has gone quiet. they're all watching felix dote on you like you're the reason for the moon hanging in the sky. annabel whispers something about the "unsuspecting".

farleigh eventually tries again, directly stating felix's name. he finally looks up, a little confused, as if coming out of a trance. farleigh repeats his earlier comment, finally getting a reaction from felix. the group recovers because while the moment had been almost uncomfortably intimate for something so casual, this is far from the first time felix has started (casually) seeing an 'outsider'.

some time passes and you finish your first drink. when felix notices, he asks if you want another. you tell him that you don't mind getting your own, but felix is insistent. you stand so that he can get up.

a part of you wishes you could have found an excuse to go with him. the gesture, in theory, is nice, but without felix's protection, being left with his friends feels like he's thrown you to the wolves.

annabel, a little tipsy and now curious asks, "so, how long have you and felix..." she trails off with a knowing look.

you kind of get what she's implying, but it feels like too random and too unfitting of an assumption to be accurate. "oh, we've been friends since around right after syllabus week, felix ask--"

"no," she shakes her head, "i mean--" she tries again, this time asking with precise language.

your face grows a few degrees warmer. "oh." the slight laugh that follows the syllable is too genuine for it to be you playing coy. "no, it's not--we're friends."

friends. you genuinely believe it. annabel fixes you with a tight lipped smile that makes something in your stomach knot.

you decide that her question must have been prompted by you sitting on felix's lap. you've also heard enough stories about them to assume that they have an on again off again, sort of thing, and because you really don't want to make an enemy of her, you try to justify it, "that was just--you've known him way longer, he's just like that."

oh my god. he's fooled you. completely convinced you that that's normal. before annabel can really react, felix comes back. he hands you your drink and kisses your cheek before sitting down next to you. he doesn't ask you to go back to where you were sitting before, but he does keep a hand on your knee.

----

some bestfriend!reader concepts ft oliver

another bestfriend! felix blurb :)

bestfriend! felix and reader basically dating

[shadowkoo]

Visiting Hours

→ Summary: In the dimly lit conjugal room, Yeonjun finally has you. You’re soft, warm, and completely at his mercy. A year of pent-up hunger has festered into something darker, something filthier, a craving that only you can satisfy. Shackled by time, he intends to make every second count, to lose himself in the heat of your body, the sweetness of your surrender. Nothing else exists, just you. Every sigh, every moan, every blissful moment is his to claim. And when you unveil the sinful surprise he craves, nothing will stop him from devouring what’s his.

↠ yeonjun x f.reader | 3.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, pwp, prisoner au, established relationship

→ Warnings: swearing, really brief mention of murder at the beginning, unprotected sex, period sex, blood play, blood kink, pain kink, scratching, marking, hair pulling, breath play, choking, size kink, cockwarming, creampie, begging, semi-public conjugal visit / fucking with guards standing watch outside the door, nipple play & biting, also biting in general, panty sniffing, yeonjun likes to say the filthiest fucking things but also calls you princess and babygirl, daddy kink, needy!yeonjun, desperate!yeonjun, possessive!yeonjun (you’re welcome)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiaries @keopihaus @dove-net

→ Moodboard: view here!

→ Author Note: thanks to sevń @aaagustd for helping me come up with the title for this! this idea was haunting me until i brought it to life. i hope y’all enjoy it! this isn't edited so if there are mistakes...don't tell me LOL as usual, all likes, reblogs, & comments are much appreciated! this has been crossposted on ao3 here if you prefer to read there :)

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Two guards cuff Yeonjun’s hands behind his back, the metal cold against his skin. It’s a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his aching body. His pulse increases with each step, adrenaline seeping into his bloodstream like a drug. A volatile mix of electricity and something darker.

As they march him out of general population, two more guards fall in step behind Yeonjun, just in case he misbehaves. It’s a bit overkill. Then again, maybe not. He did slit a few people’s necks to land himself here. But honestly? He could probably take the guards; at the very least he’d get a few solid hits in before they tasered him.

Not that he’s stupid enough to try it. Not today.

They stop outside the conjugal visit room, affectionately dubbed the ‘Pound Pen’ by all inmates who’ve been granted access.

“I’m going to uncuff you now, Yeonjun. If you even think about doing something dumb, you won’t even get to look at that fine piece of ass waiting on the other side of this door. Understood?”

His jaw tightens. He hates the way they talk about you like you’re just another perk of good behavior. He considers slamming his knee into the smug guard’s balls, but that would be stupid. Really stupid, especially after three months of playing nice and kissing ass just for this moment.

It’s his first conjugal visit since getting sentenced. Over a year since he’s been inside you. And if he’s being honest? He’s fucking desperate.

Yeonjun gets one hour with you, and he plans to spend every second buried deep inside you, making up for lost time. His body is already thrumming with anticipation, every muscle coiled tight, every thought consumed by the need to touch you, taste you, ruin you.

The guards uncuff him, their rough hands roaming over his body in a thorough search, pressing into his ribs, sliding down his legs, patting every possible hiding place. He stands still, barely tolerating the routine violation, his jaw clenched, his patience razor-thin.

Satisfied, they step back. One of them cracks open the heavy metal door, and finally, his eyes land on you. The sight alone sends a fresh surge of heat through his veins, hunger tightening in his gut. It’s been too long.

You stand in the center of the small, lifeless room. Yet, you make it feel brighter, somehow softer. Dressed in a light green dress and a cream-colored knit cardigan, you look effortlessly beautiful. But as breathtaking as you are, his eyes settle on the one thing that means more than anything else.

The diamond ring sparkling next to the wedding band on your finger.

His favorite thing you’ll ever wear. His proof that despite the walls, the distance, and the time stolen from you both—you’re still his. Always his.

The room is probably similar in size to his cell; the walls are bare except for years of grime, faded stains, and the inevitable wear and tear of too many conjugal encounters. And the air is stale, tinged with bleach and something less pleasant, but none of that matters. Not when you’re here.

A twin-sized bed sits against the wall, a set of clean sheets hastily thrown over the thin mattress. But Yeonjun wouldn’t let your body touch that thing if his life depended on it. You’re too pure for that.

The guards linger just long enough to remind him they exist. One steps in after him, pointing out the panic button on the wall to you. As if you’d ever need it. As if you’d ever want this to end early.

They exit shortly after, but Yeonjun knows at least one, maybe two, are stationed just outside the door. It doesn’t matter. The moment they step out, the second that locks clicks into place, he’s on you.

You barely have time to breathe before he’s pulling you into his arms, his body radiating heat, his grip firm.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin, teasing, inviting. “Long time, no see… or touch.”

A low, guttural sound rumbles from his chest. “I’ve fucking missed you,” he groans, his voice thick with hunger, roughened by restraint.

Yeonjun’s lips crash onto yours, desperate and claiming, making up for all the lost time. He swallows the gasp that slips from your mouth, his body reacting to the mewls that follow. Every sweet sound and trail of your fingernails across his scalp has his cock twitching, it weeps for your attention.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him like he needs to feel every inch of you to believe this is real. His tongue parts your lips, pushing inside, tasting you.

How the hell did he survive a year without this? Without you?

Your lips trail along his sharp jawline, pressing soft, teasing kisses down the column of his neck. Each touch sends a ripple of heat through him as he debates what’s the lesser evil.

Pinning you against the grimy wall, where years of sweat and filth linger, or letting your body anywhere near the well-used mattress? Either way, this room is a damn disgrace. They could’ve at least thrown a damn chair in here.

Fuck it.

With a low growl, he moves, dropping onto the edge of the bed, his grip firm as he pulls you onto his lap. His hands waste no time, roaming over your body, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s making sure you’re really here. Really his.

“Princess, I’m sorry about all of this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need as your hips grind against his, your knees planted on either side of his waist. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you close, but his gaze flickers with something almost regretful.

“You deserve a night in a penthouse suite,” he continues, his breath warm against your lips, “spread out on silk sheets, worshipped properly in a king-sized bed. A bubble bath after. Room service. Just like our honeymoon.” His jaw tightens as he glances around the dingy room, his grip on you tightening. “Not a rushed, one-hour fuck in a room that’s already seen too many couples today.”

But as his hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer, his lips brushing against yours, his voice drops to something darker, hungrier. “Still,” he rasps, “I’m gonna make every damn second count.”

Little does he know, the universe has handed you the perfect surprise. Not that you planned it, but fate seems to be on your side today. Your period started earlier, and if there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s period sex and the raw, primal mess that comes with it.

“I have a surprise for you,” you purr, watching his hands slide up your thighs, hiking your dress higher and higher. The second his eyes land on the familiar logo on your panties, a brand you only wear during one particular week, his breath catches.

Desire flares in his gaze, dark and hungry.

“Are you happy?” you tease, voice dripping with amusement.

He exhales sharply, pupils blown wide as his fingers trace the waistband of your panties.

“Absolutely euphoric, baby girl.”

He rips off his shirt in one swift motion, tossing it beside him. Then, with a care that contradicts the raw hunger in his eyes, he helps you slip out of your panties, his fingers trailing down your thighs as he peels the fabric away.

But instead of discarding them immediately, he brings them to his face, inhaling deeply. The rich, metallic scent floods his senses, making his pupils dilate, his cock twitching in his pants. A low groan rumbles from his chest, primal and needy.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his voice rough. “You smell so damn good.”

His gaze snaps to yours, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

He tosses your panties onto his shirt, trying his best to keep them as far away from the filth of the room as he can. Even in his desperation, he refuses to let anything dirty touch what belongs to him.

Yeonjun reaches for you again. “I’m gonna ruin you,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over yours. “And you’re gonna let me.”

His words send a wave of heat straight to your core, your body reacting instantly to the dark promise in his voice. A shiver rolls down your spine, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach as you press down hard against his thickening length below you, desperate for friction.

He notices. Of course, he does.

A wicked smirk tugs at his lips as his hands find your hips, gripping them firmly. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Already so needy for me."

His fingers trail down, teasing along your inner thigh, just close enough to drive you insane but not enough to satisfy. He watches you squirm, drinking in every shaky breath, every flicker of desperation in your eyes.

"Tell me, baby," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "How badly do you want me?"

“So fucking bad, daddy.” Your hands move down his tattooed chest, trailing the inky design down until you slip past his waistband, finding his thick length. You stroke him just the way he likes, teasing the sensitive spot just beneath his throbbing head. His breath stutters, hips twitching into your touch.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “I’ve missed your touch.”

One of his hands dips between your bodies, fingers brushing through your slick folds before pushing inside, stretching you open. His forehead presses against yours, his lips brushing over yours as he breathes you in.

“But I’ve missed touching you even more.”

His fingers curl inside you, finding and pressing against that perfect spot that has those naughty little moans spilling past your lips.

Your mouths collide again in a feverish kiss full of hunger, a clash of need and longing. It’s as if you’re both trying to devour each other like this could be your last time.

When he finally pulls his fingers from your heat, he brings them up between you, admiring the deep red staining his skin. His tongue flicks out, tasting you for just a second before his other hand wraps around his cock, spreading your slick and blood along his length as he strokes himself.

“Mmm, you have no idea how fucking beautiful you are like this,” he hums, his voice thick with lust as his wild eyes rake over your body.

With his clean hand, he grips the front of your dress, yanking it down in one swift motion. Your full, perfect breasts spill free, just like he’s imagined in every lonely, agonizing night without you. The sight alone makes his cock throb in his other hand, the sheer reality of you nearly overwhelming after so long.

He guides himself to your entrance, rubbing his swollen, aching tip through your slick folds and coating himself in your arousal. But instead of pushing in, he pulls back, watching with a deep, guttural groan as your blood dribbles down his shaft, staining him in the most sinful way. The sight sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to his cock, making him twitch against you.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging down his back in long, red streaks, marking him just as much as he’s about to mark you. Your hips push forward, desperate for more, for him.

“Quit teasing me,” you whine, your voice breathy, wrecked with need. “I need it so bad.”

Yeonjun grins, dark and devious, his grip tightening on your hips as he lines himself up again.

“Oh, princess,” he purrs, his voice dripping with filth as he thrusts himself into you, “You’ll always get what you ask for.”

He tightens his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest as his lips move against yours in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. Meanwhile, his hands roam your body possessively, fingers tracing the curve of your spine before one hand tangles into your hair.

With a sharp tug, he yanks your head back, exposing the delicate column of your throat to him. A shudder rolls through you as your back arches, pushing your breasts out and offering them like a feast for Yeonjun to devour.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he dips his head, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. His tongue flicks over your pulse before he bites down just enough to make you gasp. He soothes the sting with his tongue before moving lower, capturing one of your pebbled nipples between his lips, sucking and nipping until you’re trembling in his arms.

“Damn, baby girl, I can feel your blood dripping onto my thighs,” he groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he rocks you against him, slow and deliberate. His touch is controlling yet he savors every second of sinking into you as his hips arch up to meet yours, of feeling you stretch around him. He wants to take his time, to make love to you before completely unraveling. Before fucking the life out of you.

“You were made for me,” he rasps, his head falling back as he watches the way your body takes him so perfectly.

But the slow drag of pleasure soon turns into unbearable need. His patience snaps.

With a low growl, Yeonjun stands abruptly, keeping you wrapped around him as he presses you hard against the wall. The cool surface contrasts with the heat radiating off your bodies, sending a delicious shiver through you. His hands slide down between you, fingers dipping into your slick folds, collecting the mixture of arousal and deep crimson spread around your inner thighs.

A shudder runs through him as he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, groaning at the taste of you. “Shit, I’ll never get enough of fucking this tight little cunt of yours.”

Then, restraint gone, he grips your ass and slams into you, leaving bloody handprints smeared against the wall as he fucks you with reckless abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the small room, each thrust deeper, harder, desperate to claim you completely. To remind you that he’s worth waiting for.

You can see your lower stomach bulging slightly with each deep, brutal thrust of his cock stretching you open. The way he fills you so completely, claiming every inch of you, has you trembling in his grasp.

“F-fuck,” you cry out, your brows furrowing, eyes rolling back as pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave. It’s too much, the intensity of him, the way he owns your body so effortlessly.

Yeonjun hisses sharply, the sound low and guttural, vibrating deep in his chest. The thought of the guards outside hearing every sinful moan, every filthy sound echoing off these walls barely even registers in his mind.

Let them listen. Let them know exactly how good he’s making you feel. Right now, the only thing on his mind is you—the way your body clings to him, the way you tremble beneath his touch, completely and utterly his.

Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines in their wake, but even that isn’t enough to ground you. Overwhelmed, desperate to hold on to something, you sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting down hard to muffle the broken cries spilling from your lips.

His hips stutter just for a moment before a dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. His grip on you tightens, his hands flexing on your ass as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Oh, baby,” he rasps, his voice dripping with hunger and amusement. “You really do want to be ruined, don’t you?”

Before you can even gasp, his forearm presses firmly against your throat, pinning you against the cold wall. The pressure is intoxicating, just enough to steal your breath, to send your mind floating into a hazy abyss where nothing exists except him. The lack of air sharpens every sensation, making your body hypersensitive to his every touch.

His free hand snakes between you, fingertips gliding through the slick mess between your thighs before finding your swollen clit. A wicked grin tugs at his lips as he pinches the bundle of nerves, dangerously rolling it between his fingers. The sudden jolt of pleasure mixed with the delicious restriction at your throat sends a violent shudder through you.

Your walls flutter around him, gripping his cock like a vice, your body teetering on the edge of oblivion. The euphoric rush of oxygen deprivation mixed with his relentless touch turns your pleasure into something almost unbearable, so intense it borders on pain.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, his grip tightening just slightly. “You love this, don’t you princess? Being completely at my mercy? Come for me. I know you're close. Be a good little slut and come violently all over me.”

Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train, stars burst behind your eyelids as your body locks up. You can’t breathe, can’t think, only feel as he pounds into you with reckless abandon, groaning at the way you squeeze him so tightly.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, watching your face contort in pleasure, his free hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “You’re so fucking perfect when you come for me.”

Yeonjun isn’t far behind you. The way your body clenches around him, milking every inch of his cock, sends him spiraling into his own release. His abs tighten, muscles flexing as a deep, guttural moan rips from his throat. His grip on you turns bruising as he buries himself to the hilt, his milky seed spilling deep inside you in thick, hot ropes.

But he doesn’t move—not yet. He stays seated inside you, basking in the raw, electric aftermath, his forehead pressed against yours as he catches his breath. His lips find yours again, soft and lazy now, his tongue teasing past your lips in a slow, intoxicating dance.

With a satisfied hum, he shifts, keeping himself buried in your heat as he lifts you effortlessly, guiding you back toward the bed. His movements are fluid and controlled, like he owns your body, like you were made to fit against him like this.

He sits down, pulling you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss. A shiver rolls through you as his cock twitches inside you, still hard, still needy. You gasp at the sensation, your body instinctively clenching around him, a small whimper escaping your lips when the slightest accidental brush of his pelvis sends a spark of overstimulation straight to your core.

Yeonjun grins against your lips, his hands running up your back, savoring the way you tremble against him. His eyes flick up to the clock on the wall, amusement dancing in his dark gaze.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, his fingers ghosting over your hips. His grin turns wicked as he rolls his hips up, making you gasp.

“There’s still enough time for round two.”

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[andikiramman]

i forgot what the line was exactly, but in this scene cait said something along the lines of, "why is peace always the justification for violence?"

to be honest... i was kinda taken aback when she said that, considering the whole opening scene of this episode was a montage of enforcers and noxians essentially terrorizing zaun under her command.

but then i remembered that essentially, no, they aren't working under her command. ambessa is basically the one calling all of the shots here, but doing so under cait's name. cait, having very little experience in leadership, likely has put her complete trust in ambessa's judgement, going along with her plans...

until the noxians begin inciting violence and throwing people in stillwater. cait is desperate, but she isn't cruel (at least, not all the time). she knows what goes on in stillwater, vi told her herself. it wouldn't make sense for her to want other people to suffer the same way she did for no reason (also goes to show that she's still thinking of vi).

this is when you truly see what each party actually wants. ambessa wants power, stemming from war. cait just wants jinx. i believe this fact is what'll make her take a step back and realize what she's doing is overkill.

[ghostinthegallery]

Having now finished MTMTE/LL (spoilers coming) I can pretty definitively answer the question I asked myself in this post about Ratchet, and how someone can "retire" from always being rational and on point with the consequences of failing to do so being People Die.

And the answer, at least in one version of events, is HE DOESN'T. He doesn't "retire", he doesn't even really recover. All the wear of that constant tension eventually just kills him. Slowly and subtly, but I feel like there's a reason Ratchet was the one space robot to die of old age.

Except he got one silver lining that remained until the end of his life and that was Drift. Loving partner yes, but the way that Drift loves him is significant. Because Drift isn't the only character to love and care about Ratchet (far from it) but he is the only character who really takes care of Ratchet. Who looks after him and protects him, despite Ratchet usually being the one to fill that role.

Even back when Ratchet specifically doesn't even like him, Drift does everything he can to protect him. Delphi, Overlord (and a quantumly failed attempt to save Ratchet from the DJD, then the events of Empire of Stone). Basically anytime anything even looks at Ratchet funny, Drift is there with three swords and a willingness to overkill. Drift helps him when he falls, checks on him, runs to the medbay when the alarms go off. No one else does this! And why would they? To most people, Ratchet is The Guy With His Shit Together, so he doesn't need that kind of help.

Just look at Luna 2 where Drift isn't there and Ratchet has a Very Bad Time. He's literally torn apart, put back together, watches his friend get murdered, and First Aid actually yells at him for getting them dragged into his mess. Yeah Ratchet gets through it, but nobody bothers to ask what happened to him much less if he's okay. He has to watch out for himself and others and he's good at it but it isn't a good time!!

But then once he and Drift are together again, Ratchet has someone to lean on. He and Drift hold each other. Ratchet let's himself be vulnerable. Drift is the one he calls for when he's sick or scared, and just the fact he is calling for anyone rather than always being the one called for is a change. And he had that for the rest of his life, Drift never left his side.

He never recovered but at least he got relief.

[moghedien]

but imagine Lae’zel’s panic after the act 1 romance scene when it didn’t work

because there wasn’t supposed to be a romance between you and her. She made it very clear that this was a one night stand and once you agreed, she was going to take from you what was hers and be done. She found you unusually attractive and was going to sate her lust and curiosity and be done.

She starts the scene by tellling you that githyanki know their bodies inside and out. And she definitely knows what she wants from you sexually and makes you give it to her, to the point of using you like a brand new hitachi until you’re exhausted and in pain the next day. Like she absolutely had sex like she was trying to get everything outta you in one go, and once it is the next day, she’s done. She won’t humor the idea of continuing. She won’t humor the idea of even staying around and just sleeping together. She got what she needed and now you can both be done

Only it doesn’t work.

She accuses you of being the one to stare at her and continue to desire her, and she mocks you for being weak and pathetic but says that she will have you again if you “tempt” her. Nevermind the fact that tempting her requires no kind of check and she basically agrees to fuck you again no matter what you say. Also nevermind the fact that in order to notice you staring so much, she woulda had to have to intentionally been watching you. And nevermind the fact that as soon as you say you’d like to have sex again, she starts indicating that she definitely still wants you despite having used you to the fullest already.

So you have sex again. You can indicate that you’d like her to stay and cuddle this time and she’s VERY uncomfortable with the idea. She also indicates she has never done so, but that doesn’t matter. Why would she need to stay after the act was done? Why would you want her to?

Once should have been plenty for Lae’zel. Twice was overkill, surely. And maybe you think so too given she’s basically silent on your relationship until the middle of act 2. But as soon as she brings it up, it’s clear that the silence was only on your part.

Because Lae’zel has been fighting a fucking war in her head. Her world view came crashing down on her. Her goddess betrayed her and her people have turned on her. There’s a tadpole in her head that can turn her into a monster at pretty much any moment. But she has one invader in her mind and that’s you.

She knew her body and knew that she got what she wanted to satisfy it. She should be done with you, but she can’t be. Because she knew her body but clearly didn’t know her mind. Or heart. Everything that has happened to her up until this point has shown that, but YOU are just making it more confusing. She can figure out what the deal with the tadpoles are. She can figure out why Vlaakith lied. She can’t figure out why she can’t stop obsessing over you and by the time she confronts you about it, it is clearly scaring the shit out of her.

Something is either wrong with her or with you, and she needs to figure out which it is. You fight her, and no matter what, she comes out of it wanting the two of you to protect each other. She wants the two of you to belong to each other. It’s still clearly confusing but she’s at least recognized that she wants now.

And by the time you get to act 3, she’s asking you for softer touches and gentleness and affection. Shes terrified but she’s asking for them. She’s recognizing what she wants even if it’s confusing and she can’t come up with names for it.

But look at what else Lae’zel knew in act 1. She knew that purification at the crèche would cure her. She knew that Vlaakith did what was best of the githyanki and deserved absolute worship. She knew Kith’rak Voss was her most loyal general. She knew that Orpheus and anyone interested in him were heretics and evil. She knew what she needed from you and that it would only take one night.

And by act 3 she’s struggling a bit with being ignorant on how things will work, but she’s so much clearer on what she wants and needs now. To the point where the woman who you couldn’t convince to stay the night in act 1, begs you with the biggest wettest eyes imaginable to stay with her

And it absolutely was not supposed to be like this.

[provecfy]

I don't know if I said this before but if I do I can't find the post so I'll say it again: powerscaling the batfam against each other is dumb

There are certainly skills or traits in which you have a specific winner, but literally the entire batfam is the exact same superhero archetype hyper-specialised on the vigilante/detective/ninja skill tree, and they are mostly either interchangable or close together in any given categories, and when there is a very very clear winner it's by such an overkill margin that it reallistically gets very few uses

Sure, Dick is the acrobat, but both Jason and Cass (at the very least and to my knowledge, there are probably more bats that I can't remember right now) have summersaulted off moving helicopters and stuck perfect landings

Yes, sure, Tim is The Detective, but everyone in that crime-fighting family solves cases too dificult to the police to solve on a daily basis, and you can find at least two instances per bat of them solving a case that the rest of the fam was clueless about

Yeah, Jason is the marksman but it's not like everyone else isn't conecting perfects shots on the muzzle of a gun with a batarang while doing a flip and from a warehouse away literally every single time they are in a shoot-out

And yeah, Cass is the most stealthy, but other than the complete overkill scenario of sneaking past people with enhanced senses, there are very few situations where Cass can sneak past someone that any other member of the team couldn't sneak past too

Sure, Babs is the best hacker by far and Tim the second best, but every single batfam member is good enough with computers that they can get away with most anything as long as they are not fighting and hacking at the same time, and the (admittedly big in Babs' case) margin by which these two win is only useful if you're creating a second bat computer (in Tim's case), fighting Calculator, Seer, or operating the Oracle system (in Babs' case)

The only two exceptions to this rule are Duke (because he has powers and that makes him fundamentally different on the dos and don'ts) and Cass (because the gap between her and the second best fighter in the batfam is actually that big that as long as writers don't downplay her it becomes very significant)

[askoverkill]

also there is definitely something obvious I am forgetting right now that has been very clearly specified but

I think Lupus, Dusk, and The Director, are all split offs of ISATfrin?

Lupus is the perfect embodiment of a child, literally unable to get trauma, innocent, and still somewhat able to remember the island, or at least, not feeling the loss.

Dusk is before the party, with being very specifically unwilling to work with others, mysterious, closed off, and also having the dyed hair we know Siffrin had before the party got together, or possibly even the past idea ISATfrin had of what SASASA:AP Siffrin (Loop) may have been like, with the fact Dusk seems similar to Loop somewhat, and also has colors generally a reflection of Siffrin's? And also coloring is straight up Loop's? What with the black (or lightless) body, well, cloak, and bright white in the head area, with the hat and ofc face? Or it could be both SASASA:AP Siffrin by ISATfrin's perspective, and the past ISATfrin from before the party?

and of course, The Director. We know The Director is the direct continuation of ISATfrin from the ISAT timeline.

The Director is the continuation of ISATfrin's self hatred, turning himself into a villain, the villain, trapping everyone in a never ending play as things fall apart, which is what ISATfrin believed they were doing within the loops. This is that role, as the others, taken to the extreme, or, overkill.

The idea that all of these are split offs, taken to their maximum extreme, overkill, fits with the fact The Director itself said this whole narrative *was* OVERKILL.

Basically, Lupus, Dusk, and The Director, are Siffrin, but in different times of their life, taken to the extreme of their role at that time.

// I'm going to label this as "analysis" rather than theory

// the main idea is everyone is at their peak roles. The failed guide. The dying tragedy. The lost one. The innocent child. The villainous director.