#(maybe i'll come up with more when i reread)

[highwaydiamonds]

As someone who hates the sisyphean task of cleaning, how dare my mental health prefer a clean room.

[wooahaes]

13K+ WORDS?! i’m taking my seat right now for cheol’s uts 🪑

haha hi nonny <3 cheol's part is def gonna be pretty long especially bc i'm still not done w it. still gotta finish the ending and i already know tht i wanna go back and add in some extra stuff to help with pacing :3 but i hope u enjoy it when it does drop in the future!! just gotta get through jun/shua/han first >:3

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

[gigislesbo]

↳ “such a pretty girl.” || op sanji fic

╴sanji never understood why you were too embarrassed to take charge when riding him. it was cute to him but he heard that you wanted to try it and so he let you.

╴word count: 1.2k

╴pairing/dynamic: top!sanji and powerbottom!reader

╴content warning: use of fem prns, made with afab body in mind, smut, sweet sanji, insecureish reader, grinding lead by reader, riding which is lead by ji, praise from sanji, slight dumbification, little bit of begging, slight cussing

╴requested: no but it’s self indulgent 😝

╴a/n: hopefully this will makeup for my wack ass luffy smut 😭😭. keep in mind english isn’t my first language so if there’s any grammar issues apologies. overall, ENJOY!! Btw i wrote this in an hour and didn’t feel like rereading 😭

↳ SANJI (my everything)

"Ji, I'm scared that I'll disappoint you if I take charge." You said it in a low, whisper-like tone, trying your best to avoid your lover's eye contact.

"Y/N, you could never disappoint me! "I'm just happy you thought about coming out of your comfort zone. No matter what, I'll always stand behind what you want." Sanji said with a smile on his face that he was trying his best to comfort you because he knew you get insecure over these types of things.

"Do you really mean that? Even if it’s bad, you wouldn’t be disappointed?" You picked up your head, staring directly at him like a puppy waiting for their owner's approval.

"Of course I mean it. You’re mon amor, so anything you do would never be bad," Sanji said with a cheeky smile, meaning every word he said.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally decide that maybe trying to take over wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like you haven’t wanted to try it.

"Ji, I think I want to try that if it’s okay with you." You say you're a bit embarrassed by what just came out of your mouth.

"Go ahead, babe." Sanji just smirked at you, walking over to your shared bed and sitting down.

After a few seconds, you decide to join him. pushing him down, taking his clothes off while he took off yours.

You stare at your love in admiration; everything about him is just so pretty, especially his pretty dick that your mouth is already watering for.

After unconsciously staring at him for a bit, you decide it’s time to step out of your comfort zone.

You straddled him, slowly picking yourself up so your bare pussycat could grind on his big cock. You go back and forth in slow motion, watching as Sanji groans from it.

"Mmm, that’s it, baby." He said in a low tone that even if it was just simple grinding to you, to him it was a lot more than that because you were showing yourself you could take charge, and that just made him feel more pleasure.

You continue to go back and forth a couple more times. You were a moaning mess when you saw how Sanji’s dick just reacted to your slick; you honestly couldn’t wait any longer to have his dick inside of you, so you decided it was time.

You stop your motions, watching how Sanji groaned from the sudden loss of friction.

"B-babe, you should've warned me about stopping." Sanji said playfully.

You just smiled at him, moving his hands to your bare back so he could help lift you up so you'd be able to position yourself on Sanji’s cock properly.

"f-fuck." You say you're going down on his cock; you can feel him inside you, and for some reason your pussycle clenched around it.

"Your cunt really loves my dick, huh?" He says it teasingly, slowly smirking at you in the process.

"M-mhm!" is the only sound you can let out before you’re lifting yourself off his cock and right back down to his base.

The more times you tried to find the perfect spot, speed, angle, and rhythm, the more your legs trembled from it. You weren’t used to having to find your own pleasure spot yourself, but you knew you could do it.

After a few minutes of trying to find it, you did. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the sudden contact between the spot and your cock. You couldn’t help but drool a bit as you continued to fuck yourself in that exact same spot.

Sanji smirked as he noticed you had found your spot. The more you squeezed around his cock like you were, the more he just wanted to thrust right into you, but he decided against it.

Instead, he needed something to take his mind off of it, and that was your perky nips.

Sanji loves every body part of yours equally, but when he sees how your pretty tits react to him, he can’t help but tease them a bit.

He slightly pulls and rubs them, making sure your nips are equally taken care of.

Sanji gets pulled out of whatever he was thinking about when he hears your cute little fucked-out voice.

"Mmm.. ji’ feel too good." You're babbling a bit too much, lost in your own pleasure.

"You’re doing really well, love." Sanji praised the feeling that you're close from the way you’re clenching him.

You could feel your legs giving out from his praise and your hard work. You didn’t want this to stop, so you looked at him with pleading eyes.

Sanji decided to ignore those eyes as he told you, "Pretty girls gotta beg for it, so beg."

That’s all it took for you to beg, "Fuck m', please.. too hard for m'. I want your cock bad."

He coos at you, thinking how it was so easy to get you to beg for it, and that’s when he decided to help you out.

He places his hands on your hips, moving you back and forth along his cock.

"Gotta get off on my cock? I know you can." Sanji says to fasten the pace between the thrusts. "

"Yeah.. m’ gonna cum soon." You say in babbles once again to be lost in your own ecstasy.

after a few more seconds of the insane amount of pleasure you feel.

That final clench from your pussy was all it took for Sanji to cum as well.

filled with sanjis cum, you stay on top of him for a bit. slowly calming your body down.

After calming down, you try to get off of him, but Sanji just whispers in your ear, "Not so fast, pretty, we aren’t done yet. I still gotta fuck my pretty girl."

Your face flushed at his words, but then you nodded. I mean you wanted to be fucked, but what you didn’t expect was for Sanji to give you a thrust, forcing his cum to go further into your tight pussy while hitting your cervix.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure. "See, we’re just getting’ started?" he says seductively into your ear.

© gigislesbo on tumblr !!

a/n: hope you enjoyed.

[de4dlyniightshade]

I’d really just like to request your most feral Spencer Reid headcanons. SFW, NSFW, raunchy, tame - whatever. Just your like “I will fight anyone who disagrees, they are fact” type headcanons.

(Because I reread all your headcanons and love every single one)

I BEEN WAITING ON SOMEONE ASKING THIS! i've also just been meaning to make a hc post.

i was gonna split them into nsfw and sfw but they just ended up all mixed together 0-0

submissive and breedable spencer truther til i fucking die i'll get him pregnant don't play with me.

loves messy kisses like spit running down his chin, tongues down each others throat, desperately gripping at each other type of kisses.

maybe just me projecting and taking what mgg said as gospel truth but i fully believe that spencer loves a curvy woman, not even just for sexual reasons he also loves to rest his head on a nice big pair of boobs or thighs.

speaking of, boob guy! shamefully, but still a boob guy! adores groping your boobs whenever he can and would have your boob in his mouth 24/7 if he could, has literally fallen asleep with his head under your shirt and your nipple in his mouth.

munch! like the biggest munch ever, loves nothing more than coming home from a long day and burying his face between your thighs or having you ride his face.

knows full well that toys are his teammate and not his competitors and has no insecurities about you using toys on yourself or owning any.

does not care how well groomed you are, if you asked him what he preferred he'd be like??? it's literally none of my business???

needs lots of reassurance during sex, he just likes to know that he's doing good and making you feel good throughout the whole thing.

doesn't like talking about his sex life, especially with derek, no matter how hard he pressed and pries spencer wont let anything but the bare minimum out.

i imagine he's more drawn to a commanding woman, someone who will take the lead and teach him because of his inexperience and finds that he actually loves being dominated and hardly has any desire to dominate you.

really vocal! even though i've already said it like twice he just is, i can feel it in my bones, he's just such a whiny little baby and can't help but moan loudly any time you're touching him.

is completely against the idea of road head until you do it while you're on a long drive and it both changes his life and almost ends it bcs he swerved into the other lane which was luckily empty.

still gets shy when you kiss him in front even the team even years down the line.

learns to cook so he can make you breakfast whenever you're staying at his apartment.

on the same lines, lovesss morning sex, just that feeling of not wanting to get out your warm bed into the cold air, savouring the warmth in the best way possible.

had no idea what queefing was real until it happened and he was like genuinely so fascinated rather than disgusted.

i feel like spencer would own a bird for sure, not just bcs of gideon but he did help him realise how cool birds are which made him get one, probably a cockatiel or parrotlet with some silly name like dave.

all bark, no bite. likes to act a big game in front of others but the second you're alone he's begging and calling you mommy.

loves nothing more than waking up before you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before carefully and quietly getting out of bed to make you breakfast with the intention of bringing it to you but when you wake up before him and sneak up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist he can't help but melt.

very open to experimenting further down the line, anything you want to try he'll try at least once, except for blindfolds on himself, would be completely open to blindfolding you though.

loves public touching, not outright sex but he'd love when you subtly brush your hand over his crotch or take a handful of his ass in a public place.

teaches you how to knit and cries when you actually make him something like a sweater or even just a hat bcs he realises that's why you wanted to learn in the first place.

can't ride a bike.(this is definitely me projecting bcs i can't but i just feel like he can't okay)

lana enjoyer!!! especially if you are, he just wants to understand all the things you love and if you love lana so does he, he'd love to hear you ramble about your favourite songs and would take note of them and listen to them asap and tell you he loves them even if he didn't like some that much bcs he loves how happy it makes you.

wouldn't want to introduce you to his mother too soon but if you ended up meeting her by chance he'd be sweating buckets in case you didn't get along but you two just bond over your adoration for him and he's just so happy about it.

probably took a while to warm up to physical touch in the beginning bcs of his germophobia but when he finally does he regrets not doing it sooner.

washes his hands every single time before touching you sexually, not even for his benefit, he just wants to be as safe as possible with you.

loves elvis and almost proposes on the spot when you offer to dance with him to can't help falling in love, secretly sheds a few tears while you waltz around his apartment in your pyjamas.

okay i've definitely left stuff out that i've thought of but this is long asf so i'll leave it there😭

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I think the KBD universe has to be my favourite thing of yours that you've written, I constantly go back to reread all of them all the time! I'm not sure if you're still taking Christmas requests or if you've moved on and are ready for the New Year, but I was wondering if you could please write about maybe what the girls got for Christmas or how they celebrated the holiday? (this is for if you're still in the Christmas spirit) Or maybe how they are planning to spend New Year's Eve, or day? (this is for if you're ready for the New Year) <3 xxx

kbd —the harringtons chill out before new year's ♡ mom!reader, 1.2k

“Do you think we have enough hot dogs for New Year's?” you ask, eyeing the top shelf of the fridge. 

Steve steps in behind you casually, his entire front pressed to your back. An excuse to wrap you up into a hug, he folds his arms over your stomach and drops his nose into your shoulder. “What?” he asks, kissing the sliver of shoulder exposed by your t-shirts drooping neckline. 

“Hot dogs. Dove will eat four herself, and that's only one each for the rest of us.” 

“Beth won't eat one, and neither will you, probably. So that's two for me and two for Avery. Think we need more?” he asks. 

Probably not, but what if Avery decides she wants a third? Avery doesn't have tantrums, she just retreats into herself and cries, which is worse. “I'll put it on the list,” Steve says, likely having had the same thought. 

“You're making chilli?” 

“For my Beth,” he says, “uh-huh.” 

“And I'm making butterfly cupcakes. And Robin's still coming? Wait, what if Robin wants a hot dog?” 

“I'll get another jar,” he says, hugging you sweetly. “Okay?” 

You turn your face toward him and let him kiss the place under your chin. He's more passionate than you're expecting, which is to say, his hand feels at your stomach and his other rises to just beneath your chest, and he noses at you until your lips are on his.

He turns you slowly into his grasp, chest to chest, and kisses you more. 

Steve pulls away to look over your face proudly. “You're so pretty.” 

“Thanks, H,” you say. You sew your arms behind his neck for another hug. He squeezes you close and the force of it has him doing that strange sweet thing where he shifts from one foot to the other, dancing you on the spot. “You're pretty too.” 

“Not like you.” He sounds like he's smiling. “You're beautiful.” 

For once, the planets align, the universe knows how much you need it, and you get to hug your husband for as long as you like. The fridge is cold on your back but he rubs it warm, and the sound of the girls playing in the living room only serves to make your hugging nicer. 

“Love you,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. He backs away to take your face into both of his hands. “I'm really proud of you. You really knocked it out of the park this year.” 

You shake your head, befuddled. “What? Steve, you barely needed my help, you did half the presents on your own, you did all of the grocery shopping, you barely let me cook.” 

“You just had a baby.” 

“Kind of,” you say. 

“So yeah, I'm proud of you. And you worked hard to make sure we had the money for the presents, for the groceries, for all of it.” 

“We work hard,” you say bashfully. 

“Listen to me,” he says, in his gentlest of tones, the kind he uses when you're sick, his thumbs pushing back the fat of your cheeks slowly, “listen. What you did this year? How hard you've worked, after months of being probably the most pregnant you've ever been,” —you laugh and jostle both yourself and him— “and then just running straight back into it? You think I didn't notice all that?” 

“Of course not, you told me enough,” you say quietly. 

He smiles and kisses you under the chin with a loud smack of his lips. “Love you so much. Thank you for another perfect Christmas.” 

You force him into a second tight hug so he can't see your glassy eyes. It's really, really nice to be loved by him. He always acknowledges you. He's always been this good to you, before and after the babies. 

Speaking of. A patter of feet race through the living room to the kitchen. You and Steve turn to see them at the same time, Dove and Bethie hand in hand with a Barbie dangling by the foot in Dove's small fist. “Daddy,” she says, “mommy, hello.” 

“Hello, trouble,” Steve says. 

“What do you want?” you ask suspiciously. 

Bethie looks at her sister then back to you both, caught. “How did you know that we wanted something?” 

“You look like you do,” you say. You bend down with a smile and beckon her forward, wiping at a chocolate smudge on her cheek. “Have you been eating chocolate coins again, lovely girl?” 

“Some,” she says, grinning. “Dove–” Beth drops her sister’s hand. “I want to have dinner again. And Dove says, um, that she wants some too.” 

“You're hungry?” Steve asks, bending down beside you. 

“Yes.” She smiles with teeth, an awkward show of teeth. She's very pretty, but she hasn't mastered smiling on purpose. Doesn't matter. Steve would make her a five course dinner in the middle of the night if she asked. 

“What do you want, honey?” he asks excitedly. Bethie is a bad eater, so her being hungry is always a good thing. 

More footsteps. You hold the door open for Avery as she trots in, already smiling in her new robe as she walks straight into your pyjama-clad thighs. “Mom, guess what?” she asks, her chin digging into your leg. 

“What?” 

“I finished the puzzle!” 

“You did? All five hundred pieces? Oh my gosh, daddy, we have a pro in the house.” Luckily, the other girls weren't interested in Avery's jigsaw, and she's had some time to herself. You hadn't expected Avery to like it as much as she did, you only bought it because it was off different kinds of dogs, which she loves. 

Steve beams at Avery with the same shade of pride he'd worn only ten minutes earlier. “No way! Sweetheart, we'll have you on the thousand piece ones in no time.” 

She flusters at all the positive attention and hides her face in your hip. Not like her. You giggle and rub the top of her shoulder affectionately. “Can I come and see?” you ask. 

She remembers her enthusiasm. “Yes! Yeah, come and look, please. Daddy, please?” 

You all march back into the living room to gather around the small table that Avery's commandeered for her puzzle. Dove has been given strict instruction to leave it alone, and she's so high on Christmas happiness she hasn't bothered disobeying.

You peek over at Wren snoozing in her bassinet. She's a sleepy baby now she's done with her colicky tirade of terror. Steve sees you looking and takes your hand, lime he's saying, Yeah, you made that one too. 

“Oh, wow,” he says, voice thick with awe. 

“You did it so quickly, you're so smart,” you praise, bending down to Avery's height. “Wow, look at the puppies. They're so cute. They're like you.” Mom-ese never fails. 

Avery wraps her arms around herself and leans up on toes to kiss your cheek. “Thanks, mom.” 

Steve squeezes her arm. 

[undead-supernova]

Bullshit! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 3

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: eddie runs into you unexpectedly and you think it's time to have that date a little early

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, get to know Eddie and the reader a little better, making out, kids this is a bit more than pg-13 I'll tell you that much without spoiling it

note: sorry guys, I'm not done with this. maybe far from it. they have a dynamic unlike any other and I'm here for it.

wc: 4k

The library was maybe the last place Eddie wanted to be at one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. It was always overcrowded, riddled with students running around with coffee from the adjoining Starbucks. 

But Eddie needed a new book, having told himself that rereading The Hobbit the third time this semester was…unnecessary. Plus, his English professor told him that “we can only enact change ourselves.” 

Maybe it was a sign. Because as Eddie passed the large glass windows, he saw you sitting at one of the booths.

You looked different from every Saturday night. No makeup, hardly any jewelry except for a thin gold necklace and several rings. An oversized sweatshirt and, from his vantage point, you were wearing a pleated skirt. He even noticed that your high-top Converse were placed next to you, mismatched patterned socks adorning your feet. 

And, fuck, Eddie couldn’t help the excitement rising inside him. It should’ve embarrassed him when he started jogging towards the front door, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. All he could think about was the sound of your voice and your eyes and your touch and your kiss.

He slowed his pace as he walked past the printers and computers and found your head down in some textbook, blissfully unaware.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked.

And when you looked up and smiled, he could’ve sworn his heart swelled and burst like a goddamn balloon.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you exclaimed, jumping up to give him a hug. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

It was only for a few seconds, but he couldn’t resist breathing in your intoxicating perfume and memorizing the feel of you. The curve of your back, the soft fabric of your sweatshirt scratching against his calloused fingertips.

And as you sat back down, he realized quickly why your mere touch was so alluring. It was a reminder that Saturday had been real and, on this grueling Tuesday, you still cared about his existence. You still noticed him.

“I was coming to look for something new to read,” he answered, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and failing. “What about you?”

Eddie couldn’t decipher your now raised eyebrow, watching as you lifted your pointer finger. “Sit down,” you nearly demanded, eyes flickering from him to the booth. His heart hammered in his chest as he complied, eyeing your finger following his movements. 

It was despicable how easy it was for you to get him to do whatever you wanted. Even just fucking sitting down. But he loved it. Every. Fucking. Second.

“I was in the stacks looking at the archives,” you explained. “But everyone in my class took them already.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Such bitches.”

“How rude,” Eddie said, all teasing with an amused smile.

He could tell you liked it, biting your lip slightly before playing along. “I know, it’s offensive.”

There was something he noticed in your expression, placing your lip back between your teeth as you scanned him up and down. Eddie was unable to keep a smile off his face, overwhelmed by the attention you gave him. Like he was a meal, but something to be savored rather than merely devoured.

He couldn’t help it when he returned the sentiment, glancing down at your skirt that was riding further and further up your thighs. It wasn’t the time to think about you like that, spread wide for him as he got on all fours. Having you barking commands at him to do it properly, rewarding him with endless praise once you deemed it good enough.

Your thighs parted just a bit more, head tilting to the side as you gave him a smirk. As if you knew exactly where his thoughts were and wanted him to keep going. And, wow, were you two really just eye-fucking each other in the library?

“Want some coffee?” he asked, trying to distract himself. Practically flinching, pulling himself back from the table. “I was gonna head to Starbucks afterwards.”

The sexual tension broke at the question and he watched as you fiddled with your pen. But you didn’t flounder like he did. He wondered if you ever could. 

“Yeah, I’d love to. I have to finish something up but—”

“Oh, I’ll go by myself,” he offered.

“You sure?” you asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, no biggie,” he assured you, standing up.

Expression turning a bit sheepish, you said, “I will warn you… My order is complicated.”

He shrugged. “Hit me.”

And the order wasn’t complicated, per se. Eddie just wanted to know how the hell had you come up with a “dirty iced chai with oat milk and two pumps of cinnamon dolce”. Regardless, Eddie tucked that into his Notes app for later. If there was a later.

After grabbing himself a large black coffee and the concoction you'd asked for, he made his way back over to you. Rounding the corner, he noticed the way you moved back and forth between a book and your laptop, sighing and mumbling something to yourself. But as if you could sense him, you turned and watched him approach, a smile appearing on your lips.

“Oh, a Venti, huh?” you teased, making grabbing motions at him anyways.

He shrugged, sitting back down. “You deserve it.”

“You know what? You’re right.” You took it from his hand, taking a long sip. “I hate Starbucks coffee,” you said, licking your lips. “It’s awful. But this is the best thing on the menu, so thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see him blush. "I hate it, too. It's just the only thing we got." 

“God, I know. Also, I can Venmo you or—"

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, waving you away. 

“Okay,” you conceded, not bothering to argue further. Just took another sip and sat back. Glanced out the window before back at him. “Wanna go on that date today?”

“Today?” he asked, nearly gobsmacked.

Nervousness ran along his limbs, not fully prepared to be with you. Alone. Just the two of you. It’d taken him hours to go to bed after dropping you off the other night. Any time he thought he was done masturbating, it just came with another round. Like a goddamn creep.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you doing research?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot.

And if you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh my god, I would rather die than look at this shit any longer. I’ve been here since eight.” You paused before throwing a hand over your face. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“No, no. I’m free,” he lied, deciding at that moment to skip his class. He’d catch up on Algebra with his tutor—it’s not like he paid attention anyways. That damn tutor was the only reason he understood a fraction of it. Pun absolutely intended. 

And he swore you nearly jumped up, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on before packing up your backpack, the weight of it starting to look daunting. Book after book, plus your laptop and pencil case and…

Without thought, Eddie grabbed it for you, slinging it over his shoulder. Fuck, it was heavy. “Here, I got it.”

You stared up at him, clearly shocked. “Oh, you sure?”

But Eddie gave you a smile and gestured towards the window with his head. “Yeah, come on. I’ll drive.”

By all accounts, Eddie was actually…sweet. It was nearly sickening how sweet he could be, carrying your backpack for you and opening the car door (despite it being a stalker van). Asking what music you liked to listen to—everything, was the answer. And you didn’t just like every genre, you loved it— Fiddling with the air conditioning and telling you to change it if you get too hot or too cold. Asking if his music was too loud, asking how you were doing now, away from your books.

You were starting to find him ridiculously intriguing, unsure how to take his kindness. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means. You just…weren’t used to a man being so considerate of your feelings. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t think you deserved it—that was obvious every time a man got a little too close for comfort and you had to humiliate them. 

But there was just something that felt new about Eddie. When he’d approached you at the party, you sized him up like every other guy shooting their shot. But he caught your eye immediately when he stumbled over his words. And when a jolt seized your veins at that first touch on his arm, you knew you were hooked. 

You’d gone to bed that night with a smile on your face, softly licking along your lips to savor the lingering taste of Eddie’s mouth. It was tinged with beer, something you used to hate. Something you now loved, thoughts echoing one word:

New.

Eddie helped you out of the car once he’d parked, even insisting that you let him get it for you. It made you feel quite warm in the face, surprised by his assertion. Made you feel like a lady, something you hadn’t ever felt at the hands of a man.

As you moved through the museum, you were quiet, whispering now and then about certain art styles and their importance during their corresponding time periods. And you were glad that Eddie wasn’t a douchebag about noise level inside a museum.

He never interrupted, never poked fun at your intelligence. He’d even asked more questions, all hushed and contained, some even you didn’t know the answer to. Pocketing them for later to ask your professors. 

But Eddie rarely gave up any information about himself, leaving you to tap his foot with yours and ask him questions. Every time, his face got hot and he murmured responses with a shrug, as if he didn’t think it was anything special. 

How was it not? He was still undecided, having dreams of working on video games and helping direct the narratives in new and innovative ways to engage with the player more. You didn’t know much about video games, but you still listened. Still gave him the attention he’d given you. It wasn’t even hard—he was so animated once he got into something he was passionate about. It was endearing, actually.

You ended up sitting down on one of the benches together, staring at an abstract painting by an artist you’d never heard of. 

“Do you like abstract?” you asked him, whispering despite the empty room.

Eddie shrugged, eyes trained on the swirling colors. “I think so? I mean, it’s cool to look at. I just don’t really know what I’m looking for. Or what I’m looking at, for that matter.”

That brought a smile to your face. His statement wasn’t judgmental or dismissive. It was…pensive. Contemplative. 

“I think of it like music,” you said. “The different colors and movements are like different instruments. They’re all separate but they come together to make something magical.”

For emphasis, you leaned in closer to him, your face and shoulder fully pressed against him. Raised your arm to point at the sharp flicks of red hurling towards the top right of the canvas. You could’ve sworn you heard Eddie suck in a breath, having to suppress a smirk at the effect you had over him. 

“That’s like a trumpet, bright and loud. Furious in nature but soaring off the page.” Then you pointed toward the royal blue splatters, more round than some of the other scattered pigments. “And this is like, oh, I don’t know. I guess, a trombone. Low and sultry. Rounded. Keeping everything together.”

Eddie turned his head, your noses nearly touching. You couldn’t help the shiver running down your neck at the tickling sensation you got from his hair. A smile you hadn’t seen before enveloped his face as you made eye contact.

“So, you’re saying it’s like jazz.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, finding yourself intimidated by his pointed gaze. By the way you could study the rich brown in his eyes, all bright and energized despite his calm demeanor. The stubble rising from his pores, all scratchy and wicked. 

“Well, uh,” you murmured, surprised by your inability to form words. “It doesn’t have to be, but, um, I guess this one made me think of jazz. The way it kinda…” your voice trailed off as he seemingly leaned in further, his scent like smoke fogging your senses. “It’s not so rigid. It’s improv. It’s, um…”

“Varied?” he offered, his smile growing. “Unique?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie let out a hum. “I think I get it now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

For once, you had to look away, back at the painting to try and control your breathing. There were flashes of things you wanted to do, both tender and wildly too inappropriate for the setting. Things you wanted beyond physicality, beyond the limits you’d always set for yourself.

And as if he could hear the pounding of your heart, his fingertips touched yours. Slowly weaved his fingers through the spaces left open. Took a piece of your heart with him.

Eddie might not be exactly forward with his actions, but he knew what he wanted. All you could do was squeeze his hand and hope that one day you’d get to see him in full bloom. 

“Why do you do that thing?” you asked.

Eddie glanced over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. The other fiddled with a hole in his pants, needing something to grasp onto. His heart rate just started to slow down, giving him a chance to breathe. 

There was just something about you that drove him mad.

“What thing?”

“Act like you’re not interesting.”

Sheepishly, Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re way more interesting than me.”

“Bullshit,” you said sternly, a scoff leaving your lips.

“What!” he exclaimed, looking over at you again. “It’s true.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “You highly underestimate yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “I’m a stereotype.”

“Bullshit,” you repeated, starting to sound genuinely frustrated. “Who the hell told you that?”

He didn’t know where to start. 

Being a loser wasn’t a big deal for him in high school. Grew up with his father’s reputation preceding him. Got through it the best he could with some awesome friends along the way. Finally graduated high school and raised his GPA enough to come here. It was simple. In his mind, he was simple.

But spending the latter half of summer, the one he dared never to speak of, without his friends and then coming here without anyone else… Well, he struggled to find anyone willing to be his friend. He tried. Really, he did. But it never came to fruition.

And what was more embarrassing than joining a D&D club before being told he didn’t belong within the first hour? Him, the DM of Hawkins, hell, Indiana, being told he didn’t belong. That he didn’t play right. That he just didn’t fit.

He spent so much time alone. It was starting to make him miss Hawkins, the nostalgia starting to kick in. Hawkins, the place he loathed. The place he wanted nothing to do with. 

He was a nineteen-year-old Freshman with no friends and an undecided future.  

His silence must’ve lasted longer than he thought because you pointed at the nearly empty Walmart parking lot and asked, “Actually, would you pull in for a sec?”

“Yeah, of course,” he responded, heading towards the very back row, far from any remaining cars. Giving the two of you privacy just in case you started to yell at him for being a loser or something. He didn’t know. You were just so unpredictable.

But once he parked, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing his chin. Squished the bottom of his cheeks in one hand as you pulled his face closer to yours. He must’ve stopped breathing, hands slipping from the steering wheel.

“You better start listening to me, Eddie,” you breathed, all low and sensual, moving your lips to barely graze his bottom lip. “I really don’t like you talking about yourself like that.”

Eddie could feel sweat collecting beneath his bangs as you continued your torture, raking your fingernails down his throat before wrapping your hand around it. He gasped, earning a small smile out of you.

“I don’t waste my time with boring people, as conceited as that sounds,” you continued, the left corner of your mouth lifting. Eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, eyelashes fluttering with each micromovement. “But I never claimed to be the nicest person, did I?” Eddie still wouldn’t speak. He didn’t know if he could without moaning. “You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. And the nicest, which is probably more than I deserve. You’ve seen the way I treat other men.”

“They deserved it,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch when your grip tightened. “Every one of them.”

“Yeah, they did,” you replied, raising the pitch of your voice. Like you were taunting him. “But you’re different, aren’t you?”

“I-I am?”

“You’re sweet,” you breathed, giving slow kisses to his cheeks. Giggling when you noticed the blood rushing into them so rapidly. “And you’re a real nice guy, you know that?”

“I, uh, I try to be,” he stumbled as you moved your lips past his jaw and against his ear. Went limp at the feeling of you biting the lobe, fanning your breath over it.

“You do such an excellent job,” you whispered. “So nice and kind and funny. You really get me going, Eddie. I didn’t think I’d be so affected by you.”

When you pulled back to face him, you chuckled. He couldn’t blame you. His eyes must’ve been popping out of his head, mouth agape at your pretty words. What was even more fucked up was how genuine you sounded, like you weren’t just saying these things to say them. You meant it.

“I thought about you a lot this weekend,” you said breathily, removing your hand from his neck to start coiling his hair around your finger.

“Me?”

“You,” you said with a nod.

He licked his lips. “W-what about me?”

“About how interesting you are. And not to get too vulgar,” you said with a giggle, all teasing and devilish. “But I couldn’t help but think about taking your cock down my throat.” Another giggle as you tapped your fingers along his collarbone. “Thought about what it looks like, if it’s half as pretty as you.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his cock strained against his jeans, the neverending praise overwhelming him. “T-thank you,” he responded, unable to suppress the whine that he’d tried to contain when your other hand began palming him over his jeans. 

“You, um,” he tried to continue, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his composure. “I-if you want, you can. Anytime. Any time.” 

“It’d be so easy like this, you know,” you nearly purred. “To ride you, to leave you a blubbering mess and thanking me for taking care of you. I think you’d really, really like that.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers now reaching out to white-knuckle the steering wheel. 

“Am I wrong?”

A tiny scoff left his lips as you nearly massaged his cock, knowing that if you didn’t stop soon, he was going to burst. “You already know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it, Eddie.” You nipped his neck, causing him to jump a little. But you wouldn’t stop, whispering filthy words as you continued to mark him. “I want to hear you tell me how good it would feel for me to suck you dry.” He continued to nod, each word sending him further into the deep end. “Before getting you hard again, just ‘cause I can, and getting on top so I can milk you with my pussy.” He moaned at your vulgarity. “Which is dripping, by the way.”

Without any warning, Eddie was cumming, an explosive rush that had him twitching and jerking. Panting and dry mouthed. You didn’t remove your hand, merely chuckling and rubbing him through his jeans until he was able to breathe normally again.

Before Eddie could get the chance to apologize for his behavior, you were pulling him in with an agonizingly slow kiss, your fingers damp from the cum seeping through his jeans. 

You tugged at his lower lip with your teeth before letting out a hum. Gazed up into his puppy dog eyes and said, “Good boy.”

After a few moments of Eddie being able to think clearly again, you found your eyes wandering around his console before settling on a pack of cigarettes. 

“You smoke?” you asked, plucking them from the cupholder and shaking the box in front of his face.

He nodded, seemingly quiet despite what transpired. “Want one?”

“Absolutely,” you responded, quick to take two out and hand one over. Watched him roll the windows down. Even went so far as to light both cigarettes for you like a gentleman. 

You knew he was still coming down from that high. It wasn’t like you could judge when the wetness collecting between your thighs was probably staining the carseat. It took everything in you not to beg him to take you right then and there. But you were a lady (of sorts) and as a lady, you were content with saving yourself for another day.

Besides, it was nice to see him so calm now. Like a weight had been lifted, if only for a moment. It was still a moment.

“Post-nut clarity cigarette,” you joked, taking a slow drag and glancing out at the afternoon sun. 

“Was that…not embarrassing?”

That was when you realized what was happening.

“Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you said truthfully. 

“I’m sure it’s totally hot,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Ah, yes. You supposed it was embarrassing for a guy to have creamed his pants without so much as a kiss. But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew it would be different once you were alone, edging him until he was begging you for more. Nothing would make you happier.

You ignored him. “You know, if you want us to go any further, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you said plainly, checking over your nails to make sure the paint hadn’t chipped too bad.  

“How?”

“Once you learn to be nice to yourself.” You shrugged before glancing back over at his wide-eyed expression. “I know there’s something more to you than what you think of yourself. I saw it at the party and I’m seeing it now. You just have to see that, Eddie. That’s really all there is to it.”

Eddie’s lips seemed to form a pout before he took a few hearty puffs, the smoke billowing around you. Looked around. Looked down at his lap. Looked back up at you. Mumbled, “So I can’t, like, go down on you right now?”

A laugh surged out of you so quickly that you started coughing. You waved him away when his concern sounded, ending up laughing harder before you could contain yourself.

“As much as I’d love to give you the privilege of eating me out right now, I think it’s best to wait until you’ve shown some improvement.”

“So there’s a chance?” he asked. 

You leaned back in towards his face, opening his mouth with your thumb. Taking another drag, you put your lips to his and blew the smoke into his mouth. Felt him breathe it in before letting it out through his nose. 

You smirked. “If you’re desperate for a piece of me, you could always lap up what I left behind on your car seat.”

He groaned, taking a deep breath while rolling his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking menace.”

“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

as per usual, thanks to @strangergraphics for letting me use her dividers and looking over my work hehehe

[unreliablesnake]

My place (Miguel O'Hara x reader)

Summary: Miguel has a thing for his neighbor.

Warnings: brief mention of masturbation (m), reader's wearing a dress.

Note: Y'all, I'm not gonna write smut at work.

After losing the family that had never really been his, Miguel promised himself to focus on work to fix things, to make things right after what he had done. But that wasn't the only thing he promised himself. He also decided to stay away from relationships, keeping up his walls so no one could get too close to him again.

But you…

You were hard to resist. You had moved into the apartment next to his about three months ago, always greeting him with a beaming smile when you met in the hallway. He often thought about letting you closer, inviting you over for coffee or dinner, maybe even making a move on you at one point.

There were times when he touched himself fantasizing about you, believing nothing bad could come out of thinking about you every once in a while, imagining what you would be like when he fucked you senseless. All the sweet sounds that would leave your lips, the whimpers, the moans, his name, all of them sounding like a perfect melody that filled the room. He had a feeling you would be very vocal during sex, and the thought drove him crazy.

“I think this is the point where I need to remind you that this is practically stalking,” Lyla told him one day when he was waiting for you near the building you worked in.

Miguel let out a sigh as he considered her warning. She was right. He had been following you around when he had the time a few times in the past week or so, but he always justified his actions by saying it was to protect you. Just to know you got home safe. It was the right thing to do as Spider-man, right?

“You should go back to the HQ,” the AI spoke up again. He let out an annoyed groan, one to which she replied with a roll of her eyes behind the sunglasses. “Or maybe try to talk to her this time. You know, like a normal human being would probably do.”

“I'll talk to her when the time is right,” he replied.

“And when will that be? You've been neglecting work lately. People are looking for you.”

Miguel looked down at Lyla, his mouth open as he was about to answer. But then he took his time, deciding not to lash out at the one person who was trying to help him. “I'm not neglecting work. If anything, I'm neglecting sleep,” was all he said.

His assistant didn't push the matter any further, but it made him think about what he was doing and he realized what a creep he had been. He should talk to you the next time you meet, telling you how he thought about asking you out, just as Lyla suggested, hoping you wouldn't turn your back on him halfway through his monologue.

To his surprise, though, he received a message while he was working at the HQ. It was from you. He had no idea how you found him, but seeing your number–that he already had from not-so-legal sources–made his heart rate jump. At first he didn't even want to read it, being afraid whatever it was would just avert his thoughts from more important matters for the rest of the night. But in the end it turned out not knowing why you wrote him was much worse, so he opened the message and began to read it.

You: Hi, it's your neighbor from 349. I got your number from the janitor who apparently had it for emergencies. Anyway, I know it's probably weird, but I was wondering if you'd like to join me tomorrow evening to watch a play. I got two tickets at work but have no one to go with.

He had to reread the message a few times to understand that you've just asked him out on a date. Or maybe you were just trying to be friends with him with no other intention. Why did this have to be so confusing? After cursing out loud in Spanish, happy that no one was around apart from Lyla to hear it, he began to think about how to reply. He had to be cool about this.

Miguel: Hey. It sounds nice, I'd gladly join you.

You: Cool. Meet me in the hallway at seven?

Miguel: Sure.

“You'll have to talk to her tomorrow, you know,” Lyla noted as if he hadn't known that.

The next evening couldn't come fast enough. He busied himself with work to make time pass faster, but you were always on his mind, the possibilities of how your encounter would end on repeat in his brain. If he played his cards right, he might have you where he really wished to see you–in his bed.

When he stepped out of his apartment two minutes before seven, you were already there, wearing a gorgeous black dress with high heels that were killing him. The moment you noticed him, your eyes began to shine and your lips curled into a sweet smile, making him wonder how you could be this cheerful all the time.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he said before he could stop himself, but you didn't seem to mind. “I can't say I wasn't surprised when I got your message, though.”

You nodded as you licked your lips nervously. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be weird, I just… I've been planning to chat with you for a while now anyway. Thought tonight could be the chance for that,” you explained.

“I'm glad you invited me. And you're not weird.” Miguel assured you with a smile. “I've been thinking about talking to you, too, I just wasn't sure you would be interested.”

“I am.”

You fell silent, but just when he was about to break the silence and ask you if you were ready to go, you launched forward and pulled his head down to kiss him. It was a messy, hungry kiss, and he was sure he would devour you if you weren't careful enough. But you didn't seem scared, not even when you felt his fangs tear into your bottom lip.

When he pulled away for a moment to breathe, admiring your puffy lips and the way you were looking up at him through your lashes, he realized that you didn't want to go anywhere. You had your finger hooked under his belt, and you were pulling him towards your door at a painfully slow pace.

“I don't know about you, but I'm not even that interested in that play,” you whispered quietly.

Miguel kissed you again, this time not holding back when he pushed your back against the wall. “My place,” he growled against your lips, and you were quick to nod in response. “Good girl.”

[emilyprentissluvr]

Don't Tempt Me (Don't Blame Me, Chapter 2)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Chapter 1

Warnings: Regular CM stuff

Words: 3.3k

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

EMILY STARED at herself in the mirror. Her hair was perfectly curled with bangs sitting just above her eyebrows. The black dress she bought hugged every curve of her body and showed off her toned legs. Emily knew she looked good, but hated the small part of her that wanted to look good. 

A knock on the door made Emily tear her gaze away from the mirror. "Come in!" The brunette called and a couple of seconds later Hotch opened the door and walked into the locker room. "You sure you're up to this?" The unit chief asked, a hint of concern laced his signature frown.

"Yes Hotch, I am the one that suggested it," Emily reminded him as she walked to her locker to grab a pair of earrings. "I know, just double checking," Hotch said. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic about this plan, if he could even call it that. It had been less than 12 hours since Emily suggested taking Y/n out on a date. How all of this transpired so quickly was still a mystery to Hotch. There was a higher probability of things going wrong than right, but he knew they had to act fast before Y/n left DC.

"Did Garcia find anything else?" Emily asked as she finished putting her small, silver hoops in.

"Well, she's using a burner phone to text you so we can't trace her. And we can't find her in any database with just a first name, plus it could be fake anyway." Hotch said as he leaned against the frame of the door. "So, in short terms, we have absolutely nothing." Emily sighed and Hotch nodded apologetically. 

"We do have her profile though. And up to this point, she's only ever killed men." Hotch offered and Emily couldn't help but laugh, "She's still an unpredictable, high-functioning psychopath."

"I know, I just..." Hotch trailed off, knowing that there wasn't anything to say to comfort the agent in front of him. "Don't let your guard down and don't do anything stupid." He added.

"Me? Do something stupid? Never." Emily said as she closed her locker and Hotch scoffed before cracking a rare smile. "The cars ready for you," He said getting back on topic, "Derek's going to be there and I have five other undercover agents scattered throughout the bar."

Emily nodded as she gathered her belongings and followed Hotch out the door. "Do you have a plan for when you get in there?" The unit chief asked as the pair walked into the elevator. "I'll make her wait for a little, maybe have Derek talk to her. Get her warmed up a bit and then take her down when she least expects it." Emily said.

"That's it?" Hotch asked slowly, already hating this plan more and more. 

"Well, there's still a chance Y/n knows exactly what she's walking into. And if she does then I'll press the button" Emily said as she held up her wrist. Penelope had given her a bracelet with a small button on it that would alert the team if she pressed it. "I know what I'm doing though, trust me on that."

"Okay, but if at any point I think things are going south I'm sending SWAT in," Hotch said seriously and Emily nodded in agreement. 

As they walked out of the elevator and to the car Emily felt her phone buzz.  She pulled it out of the bag, already knowing who the message was from.

Y/N (6:03 PM)- I can't wait to see you again, Emily.

Emily let out a shallow breath as she reread the message and then pocketed her phone. As soon as she got into the car she closed her eyes, trying to gather herself. She was no stranger to being undercover. In fact, this wasn't even her first undercover case with a serial killer. But it was the first time she had to go undercover as herself. No fake identities or new personas, just regular, old Emily Prentiss. So this should be easy enough, right? Well, at least Emily hoped to God it would be. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

Y/n sat at the bar counter in the same black pantsuit from this morning as she waited for Emily to show up. The brunette had sent her the address to one of her favorite bars, and so far Y/n had been impressed. Although, it was currently 6:40, which meant that Emily was ten minutes late but Y/n wasn't too upset. 

"Now what is a pretty lady like you doing all alone?" A man asked as he slid into the chair next to Y/n. The woman turned her head and was face to face with Derek Morgan. She stared at him, eyes narrowing, and Derek had honestly never felt more scrutinized by someone's gaze until now.

"I'm waiting for someone," Y/n said, her hard look quickly turning into a smile and Derek was surprised by how genuine it looked. 

"I wouldn't make you wait," Derek said with a boyish smile as he leaned closer, his knees bumping into Y/n's as he swerved his chair more in her direction. Derek didn't know what he was expecting, be he did not expect Y/n to place a delicate hand on his knee, "I suppose I have time to kill," She said thoughtfully. "I'm Y/n."

"Derek," The agent said as he placed his hand on top of hers. 

"Ruler of the people," Y/n murmured as she tilted her head slightly.

"Excuse me?" Derek asked, confused as to what she was saying.

"The name Derek. It means ruler of the people," Y/n said as she removed her hand and placed it in her lap. She once again eyed the man up and down and Derek, who usually loved the attention from women, was starting to feel uneasy. 

"The meaning behind a name is just as important as the name, don't you think?" Y/n asked and Derek nodded slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Now, are you going to buy me a drink or are you merely gracing me with your presence?" Y/n asked, her tone sickly sweet even when it was full of sarcasm.

"Oh right," Derek said shaking his head. He couldn't even comprehend how a two-minute conversation was already throwing him off his game, "What do want?"

"Two Old Fashioned's." Y/n smiled and Derek tried not to read into it the fact that that was one of Emily's favorite drinks. Derek waved the bartender down and ordered the drink. When Derek turned back to Y/n he saw that she was surveying the bar, obviously looking for Emily, although the intentions behind her eyes were still unknown to the agent.

"Are you sure you're not getting stood up?" Derek joked and Y/n turned to look at him with a slight eyebrow raise. "I don't get stood up," She said seriously and Derek believed it.

"Two Old Fashioned's!" The bartender said as he placed the drinks on the counter in front of them. From the corner of Derek's eye, he could see Y/n smile as she looked at the door. As soon as he was about to grab the drink, Y/n's hand cut him off and grabbed both of them. 

"Sorry to cut this short Derek, but it seems that my date has arrived." She smiled as she stood up. 

"Wait that was my drink-" Derek started before he was cut off by Y/n, who was behind his chair, leaning over to whisper in his ear, "Not anymore."

Derek hated the way he tensed up but that only made Y/n laugh softly. "We should do this again sometime," Y/n murmured before pulling away and walking to the middle of the bar. Even though he was now nervous for Emily, he couldn't be more relieved to be away from Y/n. There was something about the woman that Derek couldn't shake.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would show up." Y/n smiled as she shamelessly looked Emily up and down. The brunette just shook her head apologetically, "Sorry! I got stuck at work." She said as the two women made their way through the crowd. 

"You look gorgeous," Y/n complimented as she fell into step with the brunette. Emily smiled as her hand easily found its way to Y/n's lower back as she guided her to a table in the corner of the room, "So do you," Emily said and she wasn't lying. The black suit fit Y/n perfectly and it was one of the reasons Emily had been so drawn to her this morning.

"I thought it was a slow day," Y/n threw over her shoulder. "I thought so too." Emily chuckled as they found a table, her hand dropping from Y/n's back as she reached for her drink. She briefly took note that it was her favorite drink, but she also knew that they had a similar taste in coffee so she didn't want to read into that much. 

"So what is it you do, Emily?" Y/n asked as she took a sip of her drink. 

"I'm an accountant with the firm a couple blocks away," Emily lied easily, "And you?"

"I'm a writer." Y/n smiled and Emily tilted her head slightly, "Really?" She asked, not expecting that to have been the younger woman's answer. 

"Yes, well, I'm a ghostwriter if you want to get specific," Y/n answered and Emily frowned, "What does that mean?"

"I write stories anonymously and sell them to authors so they can put their names on them," Y/n said.

"So you do all the work but don't get any credit?" Emily asked, extremely intrigued if the woman in front of her was telling the truth. Although it did make sense, Y/n didn't profile as a narcissist. 

"I do the work and get a big paycheck, darling. I love to write but I don't want the fame that comes with it." Y/n said and Emily brushed her finger against the younger woman's knuckles, "So I take it you're pretty successful. Who do you write for?" The agent asked, suddenly wondering if she had ever read one of Y/n's books.

"I'm afraid that's classified."

"I'll have you know I am nothing if not persistent," Emily grinned, "You went overseas for your job, right? So it's not an American author." Emily pointed and Y/n shook her head amused, "Alright, enough about me," Y/n said as she grabbed onto the brunette's hand, "Come on. Let's dance," She smiled as she began to drag Emily to the middle of the bar.

"Already?" Emily practically yelled as she followed Y/n. The brunette naively hoped that they would have talked longer. It was kind of part of her plan but it seems like that was out the window now. 

"It's never too early to dance," Y/n said as she pulled Emily flush against her in the crowded room. Her hands went to Emily's hips as the brunette threw are arms lazily around Y/n's neck. She couldn't help but stare into Y/n's eyes. Her gaze was soft, eyes reflecting the flashing lights of the bar, and Emily couldn't help but get lost in them. There was something innocent about Y/n's eyes and that was what pulled Emily out of her trance. Because Y/n wasn't innocent, actually she was probably the furthest thing from innocent. Emily took a deep breath and tried to refocus. 

"I never got the chance to finish my drink," Emily said as her body swayed to the music and Y/n followed suit.

"I didn't take you for someone who needs a drink to have fun," Y/n said as she pulled Emily impossibly closer, their noses were less than an inch away. "I'm not," The brunette said, tilting her head and she realized she would have the perfect angle to connect her lips to the soft ones in front of her. Not that she was going to, or wanted to,Emily reminded herself. 

"Oh yeah? Prove it." Y/n smirked as her thumbs brushed against Emily's hipbones. As soon as Y/n did that she felt herself being flipped around so that her back was right up against the brunette's front. Emily snaked her arms around Y/n's waist and hooked her chin on Y/n's shoulder. "Don't tempt me," Emily murmured against the shell of Y/n's ear, and the agent couldn't help but revel in the way Y/n shivered. For the first time tonight, Emily felt like she was the one in control.

"It's fun to rile you up though." Y/n smiled as turned her face towards Emily, her nose brushing against the side of Emily's cheek. 

"You couldn't handle me riled up." Emily chuckled, although her eyes betrayed her when her gaze focused back on Y/n's plush lips for a brief second. She had hoped Y/n hadn't seen it but of course, she wasn't so lucky. 

"Was that a challenge? Because I'll have you know, I love a challenge." Y/n said as she placed her hands on top of Emily's and leaned further back into her. Emily knew this was her chance, granted it came a lot sooner than she thought. But her trained eye saw the opening so she knew she had to take it, "Let's get out of here," Emily murmured into Y/n's ear, "I'll show you what a real challenge looks like." The brunette continued and Y/n immediately unwrapped herself from Emily's arms and dragged the both of them toward the bathroom. 

Emily made brief eye contact with Derek and he raised his eyebrows silently asking if everything was fine. She gave a slight nod, her code to let him know she was fine and to not approach unless she called for backup. The brunette quickly tore her attention away from Derek and to her hand that was interlaced with Y/n's.

Before they could even make it to the bathroom Emily felt herself being pushed against a wall and Y/n's soft lips claimed her own. She was taken back for a second but her hands still instinctively shot to Y/n's hips. It was the way that Y/n's hands made their to Emily's hair and tugged slightly that Emily was brought back to reality. 

She immediately kissed Y/n back, loving the way she could taste the slight hint of citrus. Wait, not loving, she was only doing this so she could arrest Y/n. Emily reminded herself, even though it was very hard to think about anything other than the Y/n's lips felt.

Emily pulled Y/n even closer, practically lifting the woman as her tongue trailed along Y/n's bottom lip. "Let's go back to my place," Emily said, pulling her head away for a brief second and trying to ignore the beautifully kiss-swollen lips in front of her.

"I have a better idea," Y/n murmured as she connected their lips once again, her kiss was hungry and passionate but soft at the same time. Emily tried not to enjoy it, she knew shouldn't. Y/n was a serial killer after all, but did she have to be so good at kissing?!

Emily felt herself being pulled away from the wall but her lips never left Y/n's. She didn't even know where they were going until she heard a door slam shut and a lock click. The agent internally cursed herself for not being attentive enough, but she could still fix this.

"I think we can do better than a quickie in the bathroom," Emily said as she easily flipped the two of them around, pinning Y/n to the wall by her hips. The younger woman gasped in surprise before looping her arms around Emily's neck. Y/n smiled as she started placing kisses along the brunette's defined jawline. She nipped at the spot just below Emily's ear and she tried her best to suppress the moan that wanted to leave her lips. 

"Not much of an exhibitionist, Agent Prentiss?" Y/n said as she pulled back and gave Emily a sadistic smile. 

Emily felt her stomach drop. She should have known this was too easy. Should have known the second laid eyes on Y/n in the bar earlier. But somehow she couldn't think straight whenever she looked at the woman in front of her. 

"What? Do you really think I am that stupid?" Y/n said with a pout as she studied the way Emily's face hardened. "That I would unknowingly walk into your so-called trap?" Y/n chuckled as she twirled Emily's curls in her hands. "And then you had Derek come over and flirt with me? It's quite comical how predictable you are."

"Why'd you come then?" Emily asked, trying to figure out the right moment to call for backup.

"Like I said earlier, I love a challenge." Y/n grinned before flipping them so quickly that Emily didn't have time to fight back before her back hit the wall. "But right now, it's proving to be rather easy," Y/n sighed as she traced Emily's bottom lip, "You and your team were supposed the be the best. But I have to say, I am rather unimpressed."

Emily immediately pulled her head away even though she had nowhere to go since she was still pinned to the wall. "So you knew who I was this morning at the coffee shop," Emily stated, not knowing if that was worse or better at this particular moment.

Y/n eyes lit up as she leaned closer, "No, I didn't know who you were. That part just was luck."

"So lucky," Emily muttered under breath.  

"As soon as I realized who you were, I cursed myself for being so sloppy," Y/n said, ignoring Emily as trailed her finger across her collarbones, "But then I realized that meeting you was a blessing in disguise. Because now I know what I've been missing for all these years."

"And what's that?" Emily asked as she quickly used all of her momentum and knocked both of them to the floor. Y/n's back collided with the ground and Emily straddled her hips to keep her down. The agent pinned her arms above her head and Y/n barked out a laugh as she stared at the woman on top of her, "Bold. I like it."

"Answer my question" Emily gritted out, as her hands tightened against Y/n's wrist. 

"This. I've missed this." Y/n said she leaned her head up, now inches away from Emily's. "The hunt. It's exhilarating. And I am definitely not going to complain about being pinned down by a very beautiful woman." Y/n grinned and Emily just shook her head. "Well, the hunt's over." She said as she leaned closer, their noses almost touching. "We have almost fifty agents waiting out there for you. The only way you're getting out of here is in cuffs." Emily continued and Y/n surged forward so their lips were almost touching, "Don't threaten me with a good time, Agent Prentiss."

Emily stared into Y/n's eyes, not liking the look in them. There wasn't an ounce of fear for someone who had just been caught. The agent racked her brain with the younger woman's profile, she knew she wouldn't go down without a fight. Knew that everything she did was unpredictable but also meticulously planned. There was no way someone of this caliber would walk into a trap and not have a backup plan. 

"I can see the cogs in your brain turning, Agent Prentiss." Y/n grinned and Emily shook her head, "What else are you up to?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the woman's under her. 

"Reach into my back pocket and find out," Y/n said as she wiggled her hips under Emily's weight. Emily rolled her eyes as she took her weight off the younger woman's torso and immediately hauled them both to a standing position. The agent made quick work of repining Y/n's arms behind her back.

She carefully reached into Y/n's back pocket and pulled out a small device. Emily furrowed her eyebrows as she got a better look at it and realized there was a small timer on the front that appeared to be counting down from 2 minutes.

"What is this?" Emily asked as she lifted the device to the other woman's eyes.

Y/n smiled as her eyes went from the device to Emily. "What? You've never seen a bomb detonator before?"

[seungmoonandstars]

Hey 👋🏻 saw your recent post about wanting to write about seungmin fluff, and I honestly could use some fluff to feel better myself so I wanted to suggest a noona!reader x seungmin fluff where they both like each other (are close friends) but reader thinks they only see her as a sister and not romantically (and vice versa) until the other members convince seungmin to confess and well the rest is up to you really :) personally I feel that he’s the type to sing to their crush or maybe bring them a cute plushie, inviting them on a coffee date, etc

Whether or not you choose to write this, I hope you feel better~ ❤️‍🩹

𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹

©ˢᶜᵃʳˡᵉᵗᵇˡᵒˢˢᵒᵐ

────────────────────✦

Kim Seungmin/noona!reader

wc: ~5k

rating: flufffff -`♡´- (friends to lovers/idiots to lovers ( thank you @wulfgaang ) Felix and IN plotting, music for you to listen to while you read)

comments: I'm sorry this took so long anon! I started writing and just kept on writing and I couldn't stop so I eventually had to force myself to stop. I tried to edit a little but uuuhhh bshxbhscs

──────────────♡───♡─✦

He's so bad at writing a text to you that doesn't sound...off. He hates sounding too casual, which is exactly how he should be sounding, and how you expect him to sound. But he hates it. He huffs and slides down into the couch, eyes flit up every so often to the open space in front of him.

Seungmin catches sight of himself in the mirror across the room, then he sees Felix eyeballing him. And then Felix smiles.

"What?" He pulls himself up and folds his knees to his chest, looks down at the message thread on his screen...rereads your last text.

I like your hair the shade it is right now

It's nothing. It's a benign little observation on your part, but his stomach swirled the moment he read it. Now he can't think of what to say back. His thumbs freeze right above the screen, and his eyes go blurry as he stares.

Seungmin doesn't have time to reply, though, because he sees you typing again. The little dots bounce around for what seems like forever, and then they stop. Felix moves closer and sits down next to him. Then you're typing again. Typing and typing...

"Are you talking to your noona?" he whispers and tries to peek at his phone, but Seungmin pulls away.

"She's not my noona."

"Well, she never texts me. What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing..."

"Exactly! You two always seem to talk about nothing...every day."

Finally, a message comes through. And it's not nearly as long as the length of time it took to type.

are you free for lunch today? Probably not, but I'm cold and want to get some yukgaejang

No, he's not exactly free, but he's going to make himself free. Seungmin hasn't had the chance to see you face to face for almost a month. Yes, almost a month. Three weeks and three days, actually. And you were only in the building for a few hours that day, because you travel too much for work. Seungmin hates that. And he hates wishing you had a position that didn't travel at all. It's always in the opposite direction that he's going.

"I'm breaking our lunch plans." Seungmin says it so flatly and definitively.

"Fine. Only because I know you're making plans with her. Maybe ask her out properly this time, before she leaves again."

"I'm not going to ask her anything... she'll laugh at me."

Felix has no reply for that, but the stinkface he gives Seungmin says everything for him.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You stare at yourself in the mirror for far too long. The way you think you look won't change, and the way you're dressed isn't going to magically make him fall in love with you. Besides, it's cold out, and he'll pick on you if you dress more for looks than warmth.

His text message comes through, finally. You feel bad asking him, because you know he's busy, but he loves to eat and it always seems to be the best way to get him alone.

I just have to change, I'll be ready when you get here

And it's stupid, but you like driving him around; the way he plays with the music, and the way he sits back in the passenger seat and stares right at you. He always let's you know when you pass a dog going on a walk, and he loves to tell you that you drive too fast. Or too slow.

There was hardly any traffic on the way in, so you sit and stare at your phone for several minutes before texting again. You're certain he's ready—it doesn't take long to throw on a pair of sweatpants and run out the door, but getting here too fast and seeming too eager makes you feel silly. You rub at your warm cheeks and sigh, wondering if you're mentally prepared to see him again, need to kiss him, do nothing, say nothing, and then part ways for another few weeks.

A soft knock on the window makes you jump, and when you look to your right, he's there, smiling and waving.

"Sorry, I was just about to text."

Seungmin climbs in and stares at you for a moment. "I saw you pull up, are you okay?"

"I'm okay..."

"You looked worried."

He's too observant. and he's clever as hell (sometimes). You're surprised he hasn't figured you out yet, but...he's probably just avoiding it if he does know. He doesn't want you to feel awkward. Seungmin is too young for you, you think. You have no business feeling this way about someone a decade your junior, and he's not going to be interested when he's surrounded by so many pretty girls his age.

"You still look worried." He buckles his seatbelt and adjusts himself so he can look directly at you.

"Uh...just jetlag probably. And I haven't eaten yet."

"We better hurry then."

You look him over quickly as you shift gears and check the gps on your screen. He's not in his usual overly comfortable sweats, instead he's wearing cargo pants, and just a t-shirt under his North Face jacket. You hope he's warm enough, but when he reaches forward and bumps up the heat, you know he probably isn't.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"It's gonna be too spicy," he smiles and watches you take a bite. A cautious bite, because he's right, but you won't admit it. You like the spice, and he likes watching your face turn red as you slowly make your way through the bowl.

His chopsticks dive into it and grab a much bigger bite than yours.

"Get your own," you shoo him away and sip your tea, trying not to be too obvious that your whole body is on fire. With the spice, and with thoughts of him. His lips are red and swollen from the little bit of heat in his food, from the heel of his hand rubbing at them. This is about the time when your thoughts get overwhelming...so overwhelming, you think you could confess everything all in one breath—his big dewy eyes, flushed cheeks (both from the food, of course), big t-shirt hanging way too precariously from his shoulder.

"Too spicy," he chases it with his rice and scrunches up his face, "How can you eat so much of it?"

"Punishment."

"Punishment??" Seungmin looks at the text on his phone. It's not Felix this time. Felix has already sent several, asking him if he's made it official yet. This time it's Jeongin, no doubt out to lunch with him, acting up as well.

did you dress nice for her?

"Why would you need to be punished?" Seungmin blushes as soon as the words come out of his mouth. It's not just the soup making him so warm. He glances up at you and tries not to smile too awkwardly.

"Where should I begin...being lazy, breaking plans with friends, ghosting bad dates instead of telling them I'm not interested."

"Do you go on a lot of bad dates?" He sits up and clears his throat, "I mean...dates. You never mentioned that before."

His phones buzzes again. This time it's Felix.

simp

A quick glance around the restaurant reveals he and Jeongin are not actually there and listening in on them, but he wouldn't be surprised.

"I wouldn't say a lot. Uh...I'm always very careful, don't worry."

Seungmin nods and struggles to keep his face neutral. He's not concerned, he's jealous. "You're not lazy, you work very hard."

"Just too much. Sometimes I want to change jobs, stay home more. Use my apartment."

"You should," he replies so fast that you stop eating and look at him.

"I should?"

"If that's what you want, uhm...you should always do what feels right." He busies his mouth with his drink, taking slow sips and peeking at you over the rim. "I'm glad we work at the same company, though, otherwise I would have never met you." He wonders if that was too much, so he stares stupidly at the chopsticks in his hand.

"No, we probably wouldn't have met. And you're a—"

He looks up at you before you finish.

"Uh..." you should say it, you should say anything as long as it's a little bit romantic. There are so many things you've thought of already, and you have said them in your head...during your endless daydreams. When you're trying to sleep and can't, or when you open your eyes in the morning and pretend he's there in front of you, sleeping soundly.

"...you're a good friend, Seungmin."

Idiot.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Another outing with Seungmin, and another tick on your failure box. You felt awkward, and you probably made him feel awkward. You can’t relax around him anymore. Maybe he does really know that you like him, and he just doesn't want to ghost you the way you ghost your dates. He's too good and sweet to do that, and he's too good for you.

A little part of you wants to text one of the others; one of his dormmates, his closest friends, just to see if asking him out would be a horrible mistake. But you can't. If the answer yes, it's a mistake, and then they tell him? They would absolutely tell him. You might as well mess this up on your own.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"That's what you wore?" Jeongin looks at him, eyes narrow, lips pursed.

He and Felix make it home first, and they both look at him anxiously when he walks through the door. Well, Jeongin looks at him anxiously, and then tsks at the casualness of his outfit.

"It's less casual than normal."

"It's not going to convince her that you'll go all out for her, though. You gotta give her your best!"

"I don't think my outfit is going to make her suddenly fall in love with me."

"No, but if you tell her how you feel..."

"I'm not ruining what little friendship we have."

"But—"

"No."

"Kim Seungmin!" Felix yells. "If you don't talk to her like a big boy, I'll be forced to tell her myself."

"You wouldn't...please don't say anything, Yongbok. Please..."

"She likes you...maybe even more than you like her."

"How would you even know that, has she told you herself?" Seungmin finally pulls his jacket off, kicks off his shoes, and sulks to the kitchen for a drink.

"No, but I've had to sit through more than one meal with you two... dancing around each other, blushing if you end up sitting shoulder to shoulder, her sneaking little glances when you're not looking."

"She does?" he sips his milk in an attempt to get the lingering spice out of his mouth. "She looks at me?"

"Stares at you. Watches every little move you make. It's annoying, and very cute. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

"Sing her a song!" Jeongin pipes up from behind his monitor. "Invite her to dance practice, keep her around after everyone leaves...sing for her."

"That is..." Felix thinks. Seungmin rolls his eyes and groans loudly in the background. "...very cheesy, but I don't think it's a terrible idea."

"Sunday! I'll even invite her to come watch, you just have to do the rest." Jeongin is very proud of himself for thinking all of this up. "I know her, too...remember? I'll make sure she's in town, and you figure out what song you want to woo her with.”

Seungmin hates the idea. He’s already starting to get nervous eating in front of her. Now he has to practice? And sing? Sing something romantic? The logistics of all of this are escaping him, too. How will they be left alone there? If someone sees them—him singing, her standing awkwardly until he finishes. He already wants to climb into a hole just thinking about it.

“Close to You!” Jeongin cups his cheeks in his hands and smiles. “She blooms beautifully in your dreams, when you close your eyeesss,” he sways back and forth.

“No, no I’m not doing it. And you can’t make me.”

“We can’t, but we can still invite her to come on Sunday. Tell her we have some new stuff to work on, she’ll enjoy it.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You can’t say no to Jeongin, ever. He was so excited to invite you to dance practice, and you’ll actually be home, so…why not. No pressure. It’s getting to see Seungmin from a distance, or maybe not from a distance. And you love watching them act up together. Seungmin invited you once, a while ago, but you couldn’t make it, and for some reason he never asked again.

But seeing him twice in the same week is a nice treat. You just hope he’s glad to see you there.

-

Han sees you and greets you first. Then you see Changbin and Felix by a snack table, bickering about something. Felix sees you out of the corner of his eye, waves, and smirks a little. He mouths something to you, and you think he says you look nice…so you just smile back. You did put in some extra effort this morning, but you still tried to be casual. Seungmin likes casual, and he told you once, a long time ago, that he liked your style.

One of the entranceways seem like the perfect place to observe for now. Nobody is here, and you’re a little nervous about being in anyone’s way. You lean back against the wall, making yourself as small as possible, and look for Jeongin. But he’s nowhere.

Seungmin, though, is within view. His back is to you, and he’s way on the other side of the room, but you know it’s him—you would know his back and shoulders just by touch if it came to that. And you really wish it would come to that. The rest of him is swimming in a pair of dark gray sweatpants.

You hold your breath and wait for him to turn.

“Noona! Hi hi.” You jump out of your skin. It’s Jeongin.

“Innie!” You punch his shoulder, and he laughs. “Quit sneaking.”

“I wasn’t sneaking, you were just too busy staring.” He looks to Seungmin, who is now turned your way. And walking in your direction.

“Staring at what?,” you say as you continue to stare. He gets closer and closer. You can feel the distance closing between you. It’s getting warmer in the room.

“So it is true…Felix is right.”

“Huh? What is Felix right about?”

"Is Innie bothering you?" Seungmin says. He doesn’t look at you, though, just at Jeongin.

“Hmmm…I think I’m being called.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Seungmin looks behind him, behind you, and then back to Jeongin. “Better go, though.”

He looks irritated when you’re finally able to lift your gaze, but not really irritated—just like he’s holding back an eye roll. Seungmin folds his arms and hugs his hoodie to his chest, and then he finally…finally, looks at you. His face softens. You could melt, but you try to keep your composure.

This wasn’t always an issue. Seungmin always makes you feel warm and stupid when he’s around, and he has since the day you met him, but it used to be easier to be relaxed around him. And fun. You figured this would pass and you’d realize you were just crushing on him; lusting after him—daydreaming about kissing him and his braces, undressing him slowly in your mind and wondering exactly what he looked like under all of those clothes. But it never passed. It grew and grew into this monster that sits on your chest and takes your breath away.

“YN?” He crouches down so he can get your attention. “Noona?” He whispers. Seungmin doesn’t usually call you Noona, not like everyone else does. He calls you by your name, because you asked him to. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like that…just needed to snap you out of your daydream.”

“I wasn’t…hmm, I’m sorry. Hi Seungmin.”

“Hi,” his face falls a little. “Are you staying, or just passing through?”

“I’m staying.“

“Good. It’s chilly in here, I thought you might want this.” He hugs his hoodie closer to his chest and smiles. "Gotta keep the heat down so we don’t pass out, I guess.”

“Will you be mad if I take it home and forget to give it back?”

His giggle makes your head swim. “No, not at all. Actually…”

Before he can finish, Chan calls out and the floor starts to clear. He looks back, and then to you again. “Hold that thought,” he unrolls it, shakes it, and throws it around you like a cape before running off.

The scent of him overwhelms you, and your head is swimming again. Everything is swimming. Now you just want to curl up in your bed with it and fall asleep.

-

For the first time in years, Seungmin is nervous standing on the dance floor. He knows he’ll be fine—everything will fall into place once things get started. But if what Felix said is true, your eyes are on him, and only him. All the time. But you must be good at doing it only when Seungmin isn't looking. He has never once caught you staring.

He glances around the room, swings his arms, rolls his shoulders. You’re there in the same spot, his hoodie still draped around you. And yes, you’re watching him.

-

The time goes by fast, even though you’re just a spectator, and you know it’s because you might not see him again for a while once this ends. You’ll go back to your casual texts, hopefully a little each day. You’d lose your mind if you had to go longer than that without hearing from him.

The more you think about it, the more you think getting the confession over with might be the best idea. You can’t exactly go on like this forever. The rejection will crush you, but with time, you’ll have to move on. That’s just what happens. The hurt goes away, eventually.

“Hey you,” Felix pops up next you and gets your attention. “You’re staring really hard. Really really hard.”

“What?” You finally pull yourself away from Seungmin, “I was? Wait…what?”

“Seungmin is going to have a hole burnt into him if you keep that up.”

You feel flushed, even though Seungmin was right about the cold, “please tell me only you saw me.”

“Probably, everyone else seems pretty preoccupied. But be careful. Unless you plan on confessing.”

Is Felix reading your mind? You bury your face in your hand and sigh.

“Don’t look so sad. Keep looking…carefully.”

You’re an idiot. And you daydream too much. Your life is nothing but work, sleep, and a constant string of thoughts about being with him.

“Felix?” You stop him just as he starts to walk away. He smiles at you, There is usually a twinkle in his eye, but it’s even more intense right now.

“Yes, noona?”

Seungmin turns and makes eye contact, but looks away almost immediately.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“Oh hey, don’t leave too early. Innie and I have something we need to give to you after we finish up.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Everyone left. But you’re sitting on the couch, curled up in a ball, warm under Seungmin’s hoodie. Felix said stay, so you’re staying, but you don’t know what he and Jeongin could possibly have for you.

You wonder if Seungmin will come back for his hoodie. Watching him walk out of the room was a little bit heartbreaking, because he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t wave. He didn’t look your way.

-

“What am I supposed to do now? You have her waiting in there, alone, and she doesn’t know wh”

“Felix told her we had something for her, and we do.” Jeongin holds his arms up to Seungmin, palms up, like he’s presenting him. “It’s you.”

Seungmin buries his face in his hands and groans, “you still want me to go in there and sing and embarrass myself?”

“You don’t have to sing!”

“Okay, so just embarrass myself.”

Felix shakes his head, “please please pleeaaase, trust me. I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs if you don’t go sit on that couch with her right now. That’s all. Just sit there. Whatever happens after that is up to the two of you.”

“Fine. Just because I don’t want her sitting in there by herself.

-

The door clicks. You know it’s him as soon as his arm swings the door open.

“Seungmin?”

“Hi. What are you doing in here all alone?”

“Waiting…”

“Waiting for what?” He stands in front of you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. Light gray this time—he’s showered and changed since you’ve been sitting here.

“I’m not sure.”

“Me, maybe. I’m sorry I left before without saying anything.”

“It’s okay,” you smile. He’s here now, so it is okay.

Seungmin sits down next to you. He’s quiet, and he has no idea what to say now. Maybe he should just sing, because he would at least be able to succesfully string some words together. The silence and the echo here makes it even harder to speak, but at least he knows you’re truly alone together. This usually only happens in your car—windows up, music playing. “What’s your favorite song?”

“My favorite…Stray Kids song, or my favorite favorite?”

“Favorite favorite.”

You weren’t prepared for this, but you don’t have to think very hard. “In Your Eyes…” you look at him, wait, wonder why he wants to know, “by Peter Gabriel.” You played it in the car with him before, and it took a lot to keep from telling him everything right then and there as it played. But you didn’t. It played, uninterrupted, and both of you were silent the entire five and a half minutes.

“I remember that song.”

“You do?”

Seungmin nods and laughs, “it’s on half of your playlists. Yeah, I know it.”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Silence again. Seungmin is 100% winging this, but he does know where he’s going with it. Because he does want to sing for you.

“So I can practice it.”

You shift and look at him, his hoodie slips off of your shoulders and onto the couch. It takes several seconds of thinking, of gears starting to turn in your brain, and of your eyes jumping back and forth between his before you start to put a few pieces together.

“…and sing it for you,” Seungmin looks down at his fidgeting hands, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. You not replying immediately is stretching out like hours. How can he make this less awkward now? He can sing for you and not make it romantic, right? Just a nice gesture between good friends. Not that song, though. He wasn’t even sure you would choose a romantic song.

No, he’s in it and he’s not getting back out. “Please say something.”

“You wanna…sing for me?”

“I’m not very good at…talking about my feelings otherwise.”

“You can talk to me. You can talk to me about anything."

Seungmin leans forward and rubs at his face, and he buries it there in his hands. It’s a bad time to start losing his nerve, he’s too far in. “I can’t.” He feels the couch shift as you get closer, just close enough that your knee hits his. “It’s a lot.”

“It is a lot. I know.”

“You do?”

You want to grab him and make him look at you, but your body won’t allow it. It takes another long silence to finally get some of his attention. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are big and nervous.

“Yeah, too much to keep carrying around by myself.”

He doesn’t seem to be following you, because he still looks worried, upset. But you’re not helping—you weren’t ready for this, and you have no idea what to say. You’re bad at this kind of talk, too.

“Am I making you uncomfortable? And I messing everything up?”

“No, Minnie…I’m very comfortable sitting here with you right now. I could sit here with you all night.”

Now, finally, he turns and gives you his full attention, red faced and serious. His bottom lip is catching up, because he won’t stop biting down on it. You reach out and poke his chin, “don’t do that.”

He licks his lips and forces himself to stop, but now he’s not talking again. There’s eye contact, at least. And it’s intense…Seungmin doesn’t know how intense his stare can be. Maybe you’re supposed to finish this—he did start, and it was a pretty bold start.

“We should—”

A clatter outside makes both of you jump. Maybe you’re not as alone as you think, and in that case, you’re a little bit uncomfortable. It makes you feel better about what you were about to say.

“…we should go somewhere else to talk.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It took no convincing for him to follow you closely on the walk outside. Silent. And inside the car, cold and dark, still silence. You could talk here—you’ve shared a lot in this car already, but it doesn’t feel right. You just want to take him home, get him warm, make him comfortable.

Seungmin is nervous. You know exactly what he was trying to tell you back there on the couch, but what you don’t know is how intensely he really feels, and if he’s willing to act on it the way that you are. You don’t want to risk scaring him away, but your desire for him has already reached its boiling point. Every minute without acting on it now is killing you.

He’s huddled down deep in his coat. You finally let out a sigh of relief when he leans forward to adjust the radio, and then he turns up the heat.

“Where are we going?” His voice is small and timid, not like him at all. It’s like his little bit of confession, the emotional exertion of finally telling you he maybe wants more, kicked his ass.

“My apartment.”

“I’ve never been to your apartment before.”

“Is that okay?

He sits up, and you can see him look at you out of the corner of your eye. “Yeah, of course.”

-

It’s already warm inside. The few lights you keep on while you’re out gives the small space a comfortable glow. It’s even better with a view of him shaking out of his coat, and carefully taking off his shoes. The apartment almost feels—

“…it’s cozy in here.” He says. You watch him walk further in, just a few steps, and look around. “And quiet, and warm.” The smile on his face is reserved, “just like you.”

“Like me?”

He nods, and his smile grows a little more. “Yes, you’re quiet, usually. And you’re always warm. And I’m sure you’re very cozy, too.”

“That sounds more like you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called warm…but—”

“I guess you’re only like that with me.”

You can tell he’s relaxing. He laughs, smiles fully, pushes his hair away from his eyes. More importantly, he walks further into your apartment, looks around again, and then sits on the couch.

“Do you want some tea? You’re probably starving. I can order something, there are a few places close by that are fast.”

“Yes, and yes…but there’s no hurry…uhm, let’s have some tea.”

-

“It’s probably too hot, be careful.” You finally sit down next to him. Close. Closer than you were earlier, and definitely closer than you’ve ever been out to dinner, or lunch, or anywhere.

Seungmin turns toward you. His face is right there, inches from yours. His eyes and his lips, his breath. His eyes are moving between yours and jumping everywhere, like he’s taking all of you in from this distance. Part of you wants to back up, because you haven’t seen in a mirror in hours. But you can’t. He’s a magnet. You think (hope) he wants you to keep pushing forward, and that’s exactly what you do.

It’s as satisfying as you knew it would be. He’s as soft as you imagined, and as sweet. It’s a shy kiss on his part, but you kind of expected that, as well. You like it like that, because he’s taking his time. But you also need a little more, so you take over.

Your hand slides across his neck. He lets you pull him closer, and he doesn’t shy away when you open up and bite down gently on his lower lip. A soft sound escapes him and floats right down your throat, and it makes your knees shake against his.

A knock on the door interrupts right as you feel his hand graze your leg. Seungmin lets go and pulls back, just enough to open his eyes and look at you. “Thank you for getting me dinner,” he says, and he leans into you again until your lips touch.

“…Seungmin.”

“Hm?”

You don’t even know what you were going to say—if you were going to say anything at all. It just feels good saying his name out loud.

“Mm…nothing.”

“Was that okay? The kiss, I mean. I know my braces probably get in the way.”

“No, they don’t…not at all. It was very okay.”

He kisses you again, this time with more confidence. You can feel his smile grow when you grab his arm and pull it around you. And you can feel his braces brush against your lips. He notices, and jumps back.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve waited a long time for this.” You pull him back, and set your lips on his cheek.

“How long?”

“Oh…lemme think,” you pretend to think for a moment, but you don’t need to. You remember exactly when you first saw him and wanted to kiss him. “It was October, last year.”

“That long? Why didn’t I know? It feels like everyone else knew.”

“Nobody else knew. I never told anyone, I thought it was silly, maybe a little inappropriate. You just turned twenty when we met.” You pull away now, and sigh as you fall back into the couch. It sounds even worse when you hear it out loud.

“I don’t think it’s silly. I’m old enough to know what I want.” Seungmin grabs your hand and pulls you back up to him.

“So why me?”

Seungmin thinks, “because you’re cozy and warm,” he smiles, “and you make me laugh.”

“That’s it?”

He laughs again, and it’s so sweet and relaxed and melodic. “I’m comfortable with you, and you’re always there when I need you.”

“That’s nice to hear, considering you don’t act like you need anyone…ever.”

Seungmin goes quiet. He always puts up a strong front, because he doesn’t really know how to act any other way. He's not as cold and quiet as he appears on the outside, and he tries very hard to never come off that way to you.

“Just assume I always do.”

“Always what?”

“Always need you.”

[vampcubus]

ACK- Romantic sub!Tanjiro, my love

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!tanjiro, dom!reader, public sex, footjob, this got a bit out of hand...

YES YES YES cus he loves romance, wants to be the best partner he can be! Always gets you surprise flowers, even when there isn't an occasion, just cus he saw them and thought of you <3 He gets so flustered when you return the favor, shoving a bouquet in his face.

"F-for me? oh, darling..." he sighs, taking the flowers graciously, even if the scent is a little overwhelming. He's a bit teary-eyed because no one has ever given him flowers before and he's so touched.

Deeply appreciates traditional courting practices like dates, and gift giving, and deep conversations about anything and everything. Loves that simple love where you understand one another without having to say a word, mindlessly doing things for one another to make life a little bit easier. He doesn't expect to be swept off his feet by his love, always staring in flustered awe as they do romantic things for him.

You wrote him poetry and love letters while he's away? Please his heart is melting as he hangs on to every word, admiring your handwriting as you profess your love for him, making him yearn for you all the more. He definitely keeps your letters on his person so he can reread them when he misses you. Wanna take him by the waist to slow dance with him in the kitchen? His heart skips a beat, eyes crinkling fondly as he gazes adoringly into your eyes, swaying with you to music you can only hear in your hearts.

Tanjiro is always treating you to all sorts of restaurants, reaching across the table to hold your hand as you dined on good food, talking about what you've been up to while you're apart. He startles so easily when your foot brushes his ankle beneath the table, creeping further and further up as the night goes on.

His face is beet red, and he can hardly get a coherent sentence out when the server asks if he's alright, did he need a refill? followed by a resounding "NO I'M FINE THANK YOU!" that makes heads turn and he hides his face with his hand until they look away.

He's begging you with his eyes from across the table as your foot inches closer and closer to his cock, though it's hard to tell if its for you to stop or continue. He sucks in a breath and bites down hard on his lip to keep from moaning out as your foot presses against his hardness, only for all the air to be forced out of him when you stroke him through his hakama with your foot.

"Mmf- mm, darling, please th-there's people watching us," he'd whimper, though his hips start bucking against your foot anyways, free hand clutching your ankle as he rolled his hips, grinding his clothed cock into the arch. "S-someone will see."

"Don't be so noisy and they won't see. You clearly don't want me to stop," you'd purr, sipping at your sake and watching him squirm with your chin in your hand, enraptured. Tanjiro shivers more under your lustful gaze, chewing his lip raw in an attempt to keep his voice down as his orgasm builds embarrassingly fast. "Doing so good for me, Tan. You're so sweet for taking me out to such a nice place. You deserve a reward."

"I-It's nothing, really. Y-you deserve nice things," He insists, though his reddish eyes nearly roll back at your praise, breath coming out in puffs as your foot sped on his cock. Your other foot joins in, cradling his cock between the other and stroking it through his pants. He lets out an aborted mewl, stuffing his mouth with his fist to contain it as he dances on the edge, so close to creaming his pants.

"Maybe after we leave here, I'll fuck you properly, yeah? Ride your cute cock til i've had enough." He bucks so hard his knee knocks against the table, the sound loud enough to warrant some more stares. You only smile sweetly at them, waving at them in dismissal as if you weren't torturing him with your foot.

"D-darling, ah...! Gonna, oh my, I'm g-gonna...!" he croaks, tears pricking at the corners of his round eyes, staring into yours desperately. His hand squeezes yours so tightly, and you only croon and stroke your thumb over his knuckles comfortingly.

"Go on, sweetheart. Show me you can cum quietly for me like a good boy." That seems to flip a switch because his eyes glaze over and his head tips back, feet planting on the ground to hump his erupting cock against your foot fervently. He does everything in his power to keep quiet as he spurts into his hakama, though a few whines slip out, he is mostly silent through it. "Hmf! mmm!"

And when he's finally finished writhing, he slumps in his chair, exhausted. Your feet return to the floor, and you lift his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles oh-so-sweetly. He gives you a weak look of affection when he comes down from his high, a furious blush spreading across his face all the way up to his ears. He shifts uncomfortably and cringes at the stain forming in his hakama, sighing deeply though his nose.

"I can't believe we did this here. You have no shame!" he whisper-yells in an accusatory tone, though he can't quite meet your eyes anymore. You only giggle at that.

"You seemed like you were enjoying it, so who's really the shameless one here? You liked it didn't you, cumming in front of all these people?" you tsked, feigning disappointment as you shook your head.

"I-I..." Tanjiro starts, making a face. He couldn't even get the lie out, that he didn't love the thrill of doing such a filthy thing in public, where anyone could have seen you and tarnished your reputation. "Yes, I may have... liked it."

[iamasaddie]

if I'm still alive, my regrets are few

PIMP!Joel masterlist

paring: Joel Miller x fem!afab!Reader

rating: explicit

word count: 6k

summary: still scared of what's to come your brain comes up with an unexpected escape plan, that forses you to learn things about yourself

warnings (for the chapter): FonF 69 (thank you @milla-frenchy for the inspiration and prompt), oral m receiving, fingering, questionable sex positions but it works in my head; light praise kink; light dirty talk, Tess is a queen

a/n: wow, it's here, isn't it? i can't believe my eyes. un-betaed, finished at midnight, i will come back to edit if there are any magor mistakes i didn't see on my fifth reread. hope you enjoy it, don't forget to leave a comment!

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

“Fuckety fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

The smell of the burning food hit your nose and you ran out of the bathroom, hands covered in soapy foam up to your elbows. When you left Joel last night, it was with the heavy burden of guilt. You knew you shouldn’t have done that, yet you did it anyway and now you faced the consequences. Joel had more than every right to be angry with you, but you felt that nagging pang, that someone was rightfully mad at you, that he was mad at you, and it made you feel sick to your stomach. 

You've been tossing and turning all night, expecting for Joel to show his face like he did the first night, but it looked like sex made him less of a light sleeper. Unable to find calmness in unconsciousness, you got up, making up your mind.  

Obviously, you couldn't take what you did back, and you'd already said you were sorry, but you thought you could go an extra step, do something nice for Joel. If not to mend your relationship, then to at least make sure he wouldn't give you five clients in one day.

You shuddered. 

You made peace with yourself, praying, meditating, and just turning off your brain accepting that the day had finally come. You knew that you learned enough to be a decent birdie, even though your confidence was still lacking. Sometimes you thought that you had some kind of a know-at-all syndrome, like you needed to know everything and maybe more to finally walk with you head up. Shaking your head, you sighed, there was no way Joel would spend any more of his time on you, he made that clear, but at least you could part on good terms.

That was how you ended up flooding his small bathroom with foam caused by using too much detergent, and burning the eggs you decided to make for breakfast at the same time.

You hurried to take the smoking pan off the stove, but the handle was too hot so you ended up dropping it barely escaping your feet.

“What the hell's goin' on?” Joel's groggy voice was not a surprise, yet you hoped you'd have some time to clean up. Plastering the sweetest smile you could manage, you looked up at him.

“Good morning, Joel, I made breakfast!”

He  looked at your feet where the pan was still smoking, eggs burned to a crispy black edge, and raised his eyebrows. “If that's a good mornin', I'm afraid to ask what a bad one looks like.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, you seem to say that a lot.” He clenched his jaw and brought his hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks and bringing some color to them. “Can you fix that? I'll go wash up. We’ve got a long day.”

You just nodded, squatting to get the pan. The burnt smell made your eyes water, and you hurried to drop it in the sink, throwing away the egg remnants and filling the pan with water.

Water.

“What the fuck happened in the bath?!”

Fuck.

You pushed reheated yesterday’s dinner around your plate, every piece of food sticking to your throat, making it almost impossible to swallow. Joel in front of you didn’t seem to have such a problem. When he finished shoveling down the last bits of breakfast - both of you kept the space around you drenched in silence - he moved the plate away and leaned back on the chair. He tilted his head to the side a little, scratching the spot where the hair was missing on his outgrown stubble.

“Nervous?” His voice startled you, and you dropped the fork on the table creating more irritating noise. 

“Nah,” you tried to brush off, but he looked at you intently, and you gave up. “Yeah, a lot.”

Joel nodded like he wasn’t expecting any other answer, he dropped his hand from his face and placed both of them on the table, hands in fists but not tense. “Don’t be.” He said simply, and you wanted to laugh at his ignorance. Like it was him that was going to sell his body to strangers. “You’re a good girl, have a good cunt. You’ll be just fine.”

You choked on air hearing his compliment but still mumbled thanks, not really convinced by his words. Joel let out a long breath, patting his stomach with one hand with the other still on the table.

“What are you nervous about?”

It was the longest conversation you had in the last three days, and you felt kind of grateful. Even if he didn’t really show it, you knew he’d just leave you wallowing in terror if at least a tiny bit of him didn’t care about you. That made you feel warm inside. Perhaps a burnt breakfast and half washed laundry was a key to a man’s heart.

“I don’t think I know…” you started slowly, trying to find the right words inside your brain. “I don’t know everything I need to know. Like,” a couple dozens of examples ran through your mind but you landed on the least helpful one. “What was the weirdest thing a client asked?”

Joel raised his brows, dark brown pools hidden under them looked at you with wonder. Clearly, he didn’t expect that. He sat up straighter, while still trying to keep his voice nonchalant. 

“We’re not some… fetish club. Everything that happens at ‘Eden’ is pretty classical. Maybe…”

He stopped himself, and that only grabbed your attention more. You leaned on the table, as if moving closer to Joel would make him speak. Your bones were trembling with all the ideas your brain provided. How bad was it? Did they hang people up with hooks? Could clients cut you for the right price? Were they allowed to shove stuff in your? Your pussy clenched in fear.

“What?” You heard your voice tremble, already wound up from your own thoughts. 

“I dunno,” Joel shrugged his shoulders and swiped his thumb over his brow, making the hairs stick out a little. “Sometimes women come and ask for a girl. But I wouldn’t call it weird. It’s still sex.”

For a moment you felt the weight of the world dropping from your shoulders. If woman on woman was the weirdest thing happening in that place, it was far from Sodom and Gomorrah playing out in your head.  But as soon as relief came it was washed away.

“Wait, women?”

Joel nodded simply. “What, you have a problem with that?”

“No, I…” Fuck. You had just learned what sex was like with a man, and here you were, going somewhere where you needed to be Devil’s favorite call girl, who knew the tricks and secrets. And it wasn’t the fact that there could be women in your bed that was making you nervous, it was the fear of being unable to give them pleasure. The thought of an exasperated sigh followed by a condescending ‘it’s okay, sweetie’ in a fake, almost synthetic female voice in your head made you shiver. “I don’t know.”

“You don't know if you’re okay with having sex with a woman?” You kept your silence, not even able to give the answer to yourself, let alone Joel. But he kept giving ideas, followed by bright  even if blurred pictures in your mind. “What if there’s a threesome? A client, you and one of my other girls?”

Now it was just getting scarier and scarier. It was one thing to disappoint just one woman, but to have an audience?

“No, I mean… I think I’m okay with having sex with women, I just never did, so I don’t think I can…” You tried to explain yourself, failing miserably. “It’s easier with men, you’re pretty basic in your pleasure.”

Joel barked out a laugh and you couldn’t ignore the warm twitch of your heart. You liked it when he laughed, he had a very special rasp to it, and he did it so rarely that you learned to treasure it.

“Week ago you couldn’t speak about sex without flustering, and now you’re what, dick whisperer?”

“I don't mean..-”

“I know what you mean. It's okay, I won't send you girls, yet.”

“Or maybe…”

An idea punched you in the head like a bright light early in the morning. Here it was, your salvation. Or, at least, postponement. You didn’t let yourself dwell on it, scared that you’d back up immediately, but as if Joel read your mind he tugged the words out of you with a simple question.

“Yes?”

“If you're fine with that… Maybe you could invite one of your birds over? To… to practice? The more I know the more money you'll get, no?”

You were scared to raise your eyes to meet Joels, instead studying all the ways you could bend your fingers this and that way. That was until you heard Joel’s chair creaking, and he took the similar position as you, with his elbows on the table, his head leaning to you so close that you almost touched.

“What has gotten into you, hm?” He whispered incredulously, you heard amusement in his voice.  “Are you becoming a little nympho?”

“A whompho?” 

You raised your head, your eyes immediately caught in the honey trap of his. He studied you for a while, and then got out the table, the chair legs screeching against the wooden floor. You didn’t move, just followed him with your eyes as he got dressed and prepared to leave the apartment.

“Clean up in here, we're having a guest over tonight.”

Your arms and knees were sore when you finished cleaning up. Taking in the results of your work you smiled proudly, the floors were clean, the blankets were folded, and it even almost stopped smelling like burnt eggs. You wanted to stretch on the couch, but were afraid that you’d fall asleep again, so you opted for sitting at the table, counting the little cracks in the old wood. Time was passing torturously slowly and you jumped at every sound you heard. But amidst the lingering anxiety, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You tried to imagine how your evening would go, thinking about who Joel would bring and if he’d participate himself, and instead of being terrified at the idea of another woman in your bed, you felt arousal painting your panties.

A woman, just like you. Soft, gentle, complicated. Beautiful. Your mouth salivated. What would it feel like to kiss lips that are so similar to yours, what would you experience if you dive into the wetness of someone else’s pussy, bringing them pleasure like you learned to bring it to yourself.

You never thought about this aspect of yourself. Never had an opportunity to fully explore your attractions, so you just went with something that was automatically given, but now, you were thrilled. This whole experience became something way more important for you than you expected in the first place, you didn’t know if you were happy or terrified. 

You heard the key turning in the lock, two pairs of boots stepping inside the apartment followed by two voices: one you knew intimately, and the other you didn’t know at all. Your heart raced as you stood up, caught between anticipation and anxiety.

A woman walked in, her eyes landing on you immediately. You tried saying hello, but the words stuck in your throat and you just stared back. She was gorgeous. Easily older than you, her eyes bearing more intellect and experience than you thought you could gather your whole life. She gave you a once over, stopping at your bare legs, covered to the mid-thigh by the t-shirt you borrowed.

Joel followed her into the kitchen and as soon as he stepped inside, you felt like you could breathe. Like everything was under control now.

“So,” the woman in front of you didn’t look very interested in anything besides you, her eyes watching your every twitch and tremor. She was calm, her voice quiet but strong. “You’re the famous rabbit, huh?” 

You saw Joel tense up, the knuckles of his clenched fists became wide, and he looked at the woman with something like warning, which she ignored plopping down on a chair and taking his untouched cup of coffee from the table, the only thing you were afraid to pour out knowing how attached the man was to his caffeine.

You didn’t know you were famous already. Did that mean Joel was advertising you or something? Your cheeks burned. The woman in front of you was intimidating. No more than Joel, but intimidating nonetheless. It sent an unexpected shiver downpour spine and straight to your core. There was something undeniably sexy about her, you didn’t even wonder why Joel chose her for what you were about to do. She was still looking at you like she was expecting an answer, even though it was quite obvious. You nodded your head, coming closer and sitting down next to her.

“Guess I am.” You put your hand on the table, and soon after saw the woman letting go of Joel’s cup and placing her still hot palm on top of your, gently brushing over your knuckles while still looking into your eyes.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Tess.”

Tess, the sound of her name was like a whisper, like a delicious hiss of meat on a hot pan, something that made your heart race, and your cunt clench. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tess.” You loved tasting her name on your tongue, her hand soft and warm around yours. You didn’t lie, it really was nice to meet her.

“You seem a little frightened, little rabbit,” she tilted her head, finding your eyes and smiling at you. “Did this big old dog scare you?”

She didn’t need to point at Joel for you to know who she meant. You shook your head, embarrassment heating up your neck.

“Then what is it, baby? You can tell Tess, I swear I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

“I just never, I…” You looked at Joel, and Tess did the same.

“Joel, can you leave us for a moment?”

You looked at Joel, taking in his form. His brooding form was still as a constipated statue, his jaw tense, you could almost hear his teeth grinding. He didn’t look at you, instead staring Tess in the eyes, as if communicating wordlessly. She handled his look without batting an eye.

“Tess…”

There was warning in his voice. You’ve heard it before once, but you still got the shivers running down your spine. Tess, on the other hand, remained unaffected, waving him off.

“Us girls need to chat. We’ll meet you in the room.” She vaguely pointed towards where his room was, and gave him a little smile before whispering sultry, “get naked, Daddy.”

You furrowed your brows at the nickname she gave him, something pinching your insides, but you shook the feeling off, turning your attention back to Tess. You didn’t know how she did it, but Joel listened to her, barely nodding and retreating to his room.

“Men, right?” She huffed, taking one of your hands in both of hers and squeezing. “So, rabbit, why you tremblin’?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Somehow it was easier to admit that to her. Maybe because she was a woman, or because she looked at you with such warmth that you took a chance trusting her.

“Does anyone?” Tess leaned back on the chair, still keeping one of your hands between hers. The gesture made you at ease, like she was taking all the stress away with a gentle brush of her thumbs.

You smiled, lowering your head a little. She did not look like a stupid woman, but you still decided to elaborate. “No, I mean like in bed, I don’t know what I’m doing in bed.”

“Again, does anyone?” Tess shrugged her shoulders. "Baby, sex ain’t math, you can’t have a perfect algorithm to make every encounter you have a hundred percent success.”

Unbelievable. She was fucking unbelievable. The look in the woman’s eyes didn’t change a bit when you bared your insecurities to her. You were no-one to Tess, maybe you were even a pain in the ass since Joel clearly took her here to ‘work’, and yet there was nothing that gentle care and understanding falling from her lips. Like she was afraid to hurt you, to scare you off. Such a strong-looking, intimidating woman with a confident stride and a sharp wit, and yet she handled you with such delicacy. 

“Look, yes, we obviously have pleasure spots, kinks, fetishes that get us off without a fail, but you can only learn that with a partner. Someone who’s either open and loud about everything, or someone that has been with you for a long time. There’s no shortcut to a perfect sexual experience.”

You admired her ability to effortlessly navigate the sensitive topic with grace and honesty. In that moment she reminded you of Joel. She was telling you everything you were dying to hear, and still the nagging itch of hesitance disturbed your feelings. “But what if I mess up? Men are so much easier, you stroke their dick and they cum, easy peasy.”

“Don’t tell that to Joel,” she laughed quietly as you continued.

“Women are…”

Tess didn’t let you finish, softly slapping one of her hands on top of yours. “You know what, let me take the lead today, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t exactly know how to take what she was offering. 

“I mean,” Tess leaned into you, your lips almost touching, “I am going to bury my face in your gorgeous pussy and show you all the right moves, and then you can do the same to me, okay?”

“I..” You licked your lips, your breathing speeding up.

“I take that as a yes.”

Tess stood up, not letting your hand out, and tugged you closer to her. You felt the heady, raw smell of her, mixed with something woody, almost like Joel. She dragged you towards Joel’s room, her arm around your waist keeping you close.

You stopped right before she opened the door.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Sure, baby.”

“Why are you… doing this?”

“That’s a story for another time, little one.” Her eyes gloomed over with something that contradicted her confident smile. You didn’t need her telling you the who’s and why’s to know that this was not her first choice. For the first time you felt sick from being right. You didn’t want to be right, not with her. Not with this woman that calmed you down with one flirty smile, that looked at you like you were worth something. Like you were worth a lot. She placed her warm palm on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone with her finger and making you look back at her. “But it’s not as bad as it might look. And Joel, he cares. He really does.”

She didn’t wait anymore, opening the door and dragging you with her.

You realized that nerves and anxiety got the best of you when Tess closed the door behind you both, and gently shoved you towards Joel, who was already sitting naked on the made up bed, stroking his half hard cock lazily. The look of his massive hand going up and down the intimately familiar to you shaft was the last thing you could remember before giving your body off to Tess to deal with it how she deemed worthy. 

She was gentle with you, undressing you both piece by piece, and then guiding you on the bed and laying down, completely ignoring Joel with his back to you. You were quiet, both of you, letting your bodies do the work.

“Don’t be shy, baby, let yourself go,” Tess whispered, before claiming you trembling lips with hers, and placing your hands on her soft breasts, her hands on top of yours and squeezing.

Oh, what a new feeling it was. She was all tender flesh and soft moans as your bodies started grinding against each other. At one point she tugged you on top of her, making you straddle her hips as your wetness became one mixture of pleasure and excitement. There was no shame, there was no awkwardness, just raw desire to give. Give more, more, more, hear her moaning louder and sweeter in your ears. Tugging on the long silky strands of her hair as her fingers found your heat without question, letting you know what a woman could do to you. How unique and unforgettable her touch could be.

You felt hers coming up to your eyes, pleasure and gratitude overwhelming you as Tess plunged two of her fingers inside of your drenched pussy, but they couldn’t leave your eyes as she kissed them away.  You swiped your nose along hers, closing your eyes and for the first time initiating the sweet kiss between you.

“It’s all good, but we aren’t making love here, birdies.”

Joel’s voice was loud as a slap in an empty room. With Tess under you, in you, you completely forgot that the man was in the room, and he seemed to notice that. You tried to turn your head and look at him, but Tess grabbed your cheeks, still sealing your lips together even if for a moment. She let you go with a wet swipe of her tongue on your lower lip, “your lips are delicious, baby, but let me taste that beautiful cunt. Turn around and sit on my face.”

"What?” You whispered back in shock, not sure if Joel should hear what you say or not.

"Do as I say, okay? Be a good girl for me.”

You nodded dumbly. At that moment you wanted to be everything Tess could ever want, so if she wanted you to be on her face, who you were to say no.

You fought the awkwardness you felt as you took the position as fast as you could, immediately ending up on the same level with the woman’s pussy. You felt weird, crowding her head with your thighs, not exactly sure what you were supposed to do next, but Tess took the lead, roping your legs with her arms and practically shoving your face in her pussy, making you almost lay on her with your whole weight.

She didn’t wait for a signal, or a command from Joel, diving in your wetness eagerly, like it was her second nature, and - oh fuck - maybe it was her first.

You could barely contain the sweet moans as Tess let her lips wander and nip at your soft folds, swiping her tongue deep inside you before pulling out and gently circling your clit. She was less hungry, but more determined, perfectly aware of every little spot that made you twitch and shake. 

With her tangy smell invading your senses, you didn’t even need to make a decision before tentatively sliding your own tongue through her leaking core. Apparently, what you thought was awkward, felt absolutely different for Tess because you felt her moan deep inside you before you could hear it. “Go on, baby, just like that.” She said, before giving each of your thighs a small bite and returning her attention back on your pussy. You didn’t need to be told twice, as you returned to your caresses, trying to replicate everything Tess did to you. When she plunged her tongue deep in your entrance, you greedily gulped down her arousal, when she sucked on your clit, repeatedly swiping the tip of her tongue up and down over your bud, you made sure that you gave her the same attention.

Either you were less sensitive, or she was more turned on, but as you brought two of your hands beneath her asscheeks, squeezing them and trying to press her glistening cunt harder in your face, what you could swear looked like you were trying to eat her alive, Tess started shaking, her movements on your pussy coming to a halt as her back arched up, lifting you both up. 

Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful sound it was, you thought to yourself, still trying to lick up every drop of her that she left on your lips.

You felt the bed dip, and then someone’s hand lifting your head up by your hair.

“Good job, now you get a treat.”

“What?” Of course it wasn’t just someone, it was Joel, the man of whose existence you completely forgot as every part of your mind and body was dedicated to make a woman beneath you feel as much pleasure as you could. But he was always there, standing as a shadow, leaning on a wall with his hands tight in his fists, and his cock furious with arousal and untouched.

Now that same cock was centimeters away from your puffy lips, still glistening with Tess’ cum.

"You worked Tess beautifully, so let’s play out a scenario when you also have a man in the room. You wanted to learn, right?"

You could barely understand what he was saying, but with the woman’s lips back on your pussy and working you up to your orgasm vigorously, nothing looked more attractive than Joel’s cock in your mouth. The thought of his cum mixing with her in your mouth made you let out another stream of arousal and Tess hummed in your entrance.

You placed your hands on Joel’s hips, changing your position a little, but still straddling the woman’s face as he guided his cock in your waiting mouth.

“Fu-uck,” he exhaled, as you tried to shove as much of him as you could inside your mouth and moaned as his salty taste complemented the one of Tess’. Almost on autopilot, you hollowed your cheeks, saliva and cum that coated your lips made the glide of your mouth easier, and you fell into a perfect dance, as Tess fucked your hole with her tongue, and Joel fucked your mouth with his cock.

It was deliciously heavy and throbbing on your tongue, filling up the limited space of your mouth and inching down to tease the back of your throat with the fat head.

"What a perfect little whore, just fucking - God, you’re so greedy for my cock, just my cock, nothing else matters, baby.” You were delusional, every cell of your body screaming and itching, every pore electrifying as you felt Joel grab your throat with his wide palm and taking all the control from you. His cock relentlessly fucked into your heat, his words slurred and understood only by him, like he was just unable to keep his mouth shut. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, baby, feel your little throat real good, I know how bad you want it, saw you salivating over me, fuck, fuck, take it, just take it, baby.” His movements became erratic as his cock burst deep inside your throat. Just as you predicted, his salty, slightly bitter taste was a perfect combination for Tess’ honey still clinging to your palette. You didn’t expect Joel to cum so fast, when you were still on the verge of orgasm yourself, but you couldn’t complain. The man was the solution to your pleasure, the discovery you still tried to ignore, and now it was just one   little lick, one suck from those skillful lips, and you felt you would - -

“That’s enough.” Joel’s voice was barely loud enough to pierce through the moans that continued leaving your opened mouth, and the deafening rush of your blood as Tess continued sloppily slurping on your pussy, shoving her tongue in your sensitive hole just to make you beg and whimper. Joel’s hand grabbed your head that you lowered as soon as he slid his softening dick out, and he yanked it up, making you look at him. His eyes concentrated on a drop of his cum that managed to escape your lips. He swiped his thumb and shoved it inside your open mouth, not reacting when you bit at it with your teeth while also licking the last remnants of him off. “I fucking said stop, Tess.”

Surprisingly to you, she listened. Her mouth unlatched from your puffy, glistening cunt, and you heard her smack her lips, saying nothing.

“No-no-no,” you started whining, Joel’s finger pressing on your tongue made the words slurred. You were so close, you knew, a couple more licks from Tess and you’d spray her face with your cum. You looked at Joel with confusion and anger.

He ignored the daggers from you, released his finger from your mouth furrowing his brows when you grazed his skin with your top teeth too hard, and patted Tess in her thigh. “You can go, birdie.”

“What? But I didn’t get to..-” you were interrupted by Tess gently pushing you off herself and you fell in your ass, body still buzzing with the undelivered orgasm. Tess made a quick work of her clothes, the woman got dressed even faster than undressed, and the look of curiosity that painted her face when she looked at Joel didn’t escape your attention. As she finished buttoning up, she came back to the bed where you were still naked, silent, and confused. Her soft hand caressed your cheek, and she lowered herself to be in the same face level with you. 

“Don’t worry, baby, you’re gonna be fine.” She sealed her words with a gentle kiss, that you could barely feel on your lips. 

As soon as the door behind her closed, you turned to Joel, staring him dead in the eyes. Was it his way of torturing you? “Why didn’t you let me cum?”

“We talked about it already on your first night, sometimes the client won’t be able to make you cum. Most of the time they won’t. But you still need to enjoy the process, you know. At the end of the day what’s more important is that your client comes, and both of yours did.”

“But she could make me come, Joel. You just stopped her!” You felt the boiling frustration overwhelm your senses, your hands twitched with violent intentions. You wanted to slap him right across his smug face.

“Could, couldn’t. It doesn’t matter now. She’s gone.”

He shrugged his shoulders, absolutely comfortable in his nakedness, his dick soft but still impressing and glistening from your saliva.

“Fucking great, just absolutely fuckin’ royal shit.” You shuffled from the bed, ripping the sheets you tugged over yourself to cover your nakedness and stomping on the way out of the room.

“Where are you going?” You turned back to look at Joel, he still didn’t move, but he didn’t smile anymore, instead he looked almost… disappointed? 

“I am going to shove whatever you have in your freezer up my pussy, because this,” you vaguely pointed at your lower region, “is just painful.”

“Don’t you want to come?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Not yet.”

Fucking Joel, with his fucking riddles and his fucking confidence and that stupid fucking dimple when he smiles at you like that.

“What’s the point of this lesson if you let me come then?” You still didn’t hide neither anger nor frustration from your voice, but this time they were accompanied by curiosity. 

“The lesson is pretty simple, if you don’t get to come with your client, you can always come to me,” Joel pointed at himself, and it should’ve looked ridiculous with his naked state, but it didn’t, and it pissed you off, but more so it turned you on. “And I’ll help you as soon as you ask.”

“Will you help me?” You took a few steps towards him, already feeling arousal wetting the skin between your thighs. 

“Told ya, just need to ask me that’s all.” 

His eyes were fixed on you, seeing every move, and you already knew the hunger inside them. You didn’t need to ask, he would still give it to you. But you still played his game.

“Please, Joel, ” you placed your hands on his naked chest, letting the sheet you held as a cover drop on the floor, and your thumbs stroked his nipples, “make me cum.”

Joel almost shoved you back to the bed, hovering above you, bracketing you with his arms and thighs. You took one look 

“Just like the first time, baby,” he whispered in your ear, kissing the shell of it with his words, “you’re even more riled up now.” Two of his fingers teased your swollen, almost raw from all the abuse clit, and then slowly sank in your pulsing wet entrance. “Bet it’ll only take a couple of strokes.”

You both hated and loved that he was right. You were right there, and Joel’s thick fingers filling you up more than four of Tess’ could just made you wanton. Mad with desire and pleasure he so freely gave to you, you soon became bouncing on his fingers yourself, trying to shove them deeper, trying to feel that sting that ruined you the first time.

“Come on, baby, I feel her squeezing me, she’s so close, let her go, let her cum, she wants it so bad,” he whispered in your neck, tasting the sweat that already covered your body.

“Please, please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for, your mind foggy with pleasure, pain, need, every little thing overwhelming your senses. You felt a sharp, stinging bite on your neck and that served as the last button, pushing you over and soaking Joel’s hand along with his sheets. Your moans overflowed his soft praise, and you didn’t feel the barely-there kiss he let himself leave in the middle of the throbbing bite mark.

“Am I your birdie now?” You felt weird sensations laying in his bed together. The intimacy of staying so close, the mix of sweat from your bodies mixed on your skin, when you’re not actually having sex felt raw and you hurried to sprinkle it with reality. 

“Nah,” Joel lifted himself up on one elbow and leaned over you to grab a dozen cigarettes tied together by a rubber and a pack of matches. He laid back down, tugged one cigarette out and lit it. The smoke came out from his lips in one steady stream, but he made an attempt of twisting his lips to the side, so he didn’t blow it in your face. Joel continued looking at the ceiling, the only contact left between you two were your sticky shoulders glued back together. “How can you be my birdie, if you’re a rabbit? Rabbits can’t fly.” He finally looked at you, grazing you with a proud smirk. 

Something warm spread inside you when you heard him call you by your nickname. Another wave of excitement spread beneath your skin, like when he so brazenly left a kiss on your neck. But then your heart slowed down, remembrance of what’s to come washing over you. Your sad smile didn’t share his joy, so you quietly sighed, it was your turn to stare at the crumbling plaster above your head. 

“So what? It’s not like any of your birds got wings.” You chuckled softly, the sound catching in your throat.

don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter 🐇🤍

[thankskenpenders]

And now for something new

So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!

Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.

If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...

Number one: Why?

Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?

And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.

Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?

NO!!!!!!!!!

Okay but prove it

To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.

If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!

This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.

It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.

(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)

Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!

I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.

I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.

(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)

Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.

So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.

Look forward to goofy shit like this

[sunshine-jesse]

In defense of Andrew Graves: Facing Yourself​

Alt title: Andrew Graves: The Will to Plow Her

I think my analysis of Andrew is one of the best essays I've written so far. But since then, I think I've expanded my understanding of his character in a way that urges me to add on to my prior essay. What I intend on doing is further fleshing out my reading of Burial, and going deeper in detail on why I think Decay ends up panning out the way it does. This essay will end up sharing a lot of text with my prior one, but will add enough scattered throughout that I think it merits a complete reread instead of just scrolling down and seeing what's new.

I've focused a lot on Ashley in my past writings. She's my favorite character in the story (and depending on how episode 3 pans out, maybe ever) and I'm pretty mortified by how some parts of the fandom have reacted towards her, so I pretty much made it my life's mission to push back against that. From highlighting the ways Andrew mistreats her, to coming up with justifications for her behavior that aren't just being a manipulative bitch, I really wanted to prove that a more favorable picture of her could be painted than most were willing to.

But in doing so, I've left Andrew in the dust.

In highlighting his flaws and the ways he mistreats Ashley, I think I've implied a level of intentionality to his actions that I don't believe he has. When I say that Ashley did nothing wrong, it's in direct response to the idea that she holds the most responsibility and agency in how their dynamic plays out, when in reality, I believe she has very little. Most of her actions in-story are in reaction to a variety of stimuli that come directly from Andrew, that he has control over and are aware of how Ashley feels about. His refusal to use clear and direct language to deny her most toxic tendencies causes her more and more stress as time goes on, and instead of giving her clear answers he opts to be catty, passive-aggressive, or, at his worst, threatening. Never direct and never clear, except when establishing boundaries over his name after the choking scene. Andrew fails to help Ashley be better in some frankly depressing ways throughout the whole story, especially in their childhoods, so we never get to see where she'd fall short if given a better influence.

...

Kind of. More on that later!

In mentioning his thing about preferring to be called Andrew instead of Andy, I also implicitly mention one of the places where Ashley falls short in their dynamic and could stand to do better: recognition.

This scene says a lot. It's the most heartbreaking scene in the game, if you ask me, and probably the single most profound and well-written moment in the entire story. I could write a whole 2000 word essay on it alone, but I've already said most of what I have to say about it through what I've said in other essays, so I'll spare you all that. Instead, I'll use it to highlight something:

"I had fun."

Their dysfunction is fun to her. She's so used to abuse and alienation that even the most awful, stressful (as far as we know) route of the game is still fun to her. And that's not a sign of her being a secret evil sociopath or whatever; that's actually not abnormal behavior to develop for a lifelong victim of abuse. Those highs and lows, those strong emotional highs and lows are -addicting-. They're -fun.- Part of why abuse victims get into so many abusive relationships is because it's easy to pick up on those patterns of thought and take advantage of them, and the cycle of abuse is often furthered when a victim of abuse tries to draw out mutually abusive behaviors in someone with no interest in having that kind of dynamic.

This is where I'm willing to acknowledge Ashley's manipulative tendencies. Not just as a matter of controlling Andrew for its own sake, purely out of jealousy or possessiveness, but as a matter of trying to further the only dynamic she's ever known in her life. Better the devil you know, right?

That push and pull- that emotional rollercoaster- is all many of us know. And it's all Ashley knows. This dynamic is something she's so used to that she reacts incredibly harshly to any attempt to change it, because she doesn't know that things can be better. Because of this, she refuses to engage with who Andrew really is, and tells herself- and him- that she *hates* Andrew:

This scene is almost as heartbreaking as the above one in a lot of ways.

Andrew putting his foot down about the Andy/Andrew name dichotomy wasn't arbitrary and it wasn't just about his comfort. It was about Andrew giving a clear indication about what needs to happen for their relationship to improve. He's recognizing the cycle between them and wants to put a stop to it, because he's confident that things between them CAN get better and evolve into something healthier. Ashley, not understanding that their dynamic can get better, because their "fun" little push and pull of abuse is all she knows, rejects that. She rejects the unknown, and says- in Andrew's mind at least- that she'll never accept that new dynamic, nor will she accept who he really is.

Ouch. No wonder he looks so sad in that screenshot.

They have a conflict of understanding here, and I think it's fair to pin most of the responsibility on Ashley. Andrew was clear in what he wanted, and Ashley just... Didn't. She didn't see the importance of it ("...whatever that means in practice") and didn't really ask. This gap in communication, perfectly displayed in this scene, is likely what causes the Decay ending. He wants things to be better, and wants to treat Ashley better, and whether or not he understands the ways in which she communicates with him is in part what determines what he sees her as.

But there's a lot of evidence that he always wanted things to be better, that he always wanted to treat her better. But external factors have made it very, very difficult, and I think there are two key points in which he started to shed the importance of those external factors and seek that better relationship, both of which happening in the apartment: The killing of the warden and the 302 lady. In the first case, he was forced to do it to protect Ashley in a way he hadn't done before, or depending on how you look at it, since the death of Nina. But the intentionality was the key point here. After this point, he calls Ashley Leyley, which may or may not seem important at this point, but it's something I'll draw attention to later, so keep that in mind.

Next is the killing of the 302 lady, which is the much, much bigger point. We don't learn much about it until later on- as at first he just gives an excuse about the nail gun that doesn't line up with what we see on the map- but during the dream, it's revealed it was a calculated, intentional killing that he did to make sure there was no evidence left behind, and because Ashley (supposedly) would've wanted him to do it anyway. I say supposedly because Ashley herself doesn't seem to ever want Andrew to kill for her past Nina's death, because he only ever kills for her to defend one or both of them. If you want more evidence that violence for violence's sake isn't something she wants, look at this part in the final dream:

A knife isn't what opens the door, despite it being placed on the ground in that very map. While it seems obvious that the knife (violence) would be the key to solving the puzzle, it's put there explicitly to show you that it isn't. It's not what she wants; what she wants is a flower.

So, why is this important? Why am I centering Ashley- again- when this essay is supposed to be about Andrew?

It's because these two killings are when Andrew's self-delusion over who he really is starts to break down. It's still there, mind, as he still relies upon Ashley as an excuse to justify it, but, as well as what I've said before, the name ultimatum is an implicit confession that the normalcy he finds comfort in is starting to lose its grasp on him. There's a lot that's been said about Andy being something close to a "moral impulse" for Andrew, given his child self's reaction to Nina's death being the only thing he does that approximates a normal moral response to his and Ashley's actions, but if you do think that- which I think is a reasonable thing to think even if I don't necessarily agree- there's something you must also keep in mind:

-He- is the one who doesn't want to be called that anymore. -He- is the one who wants to let that moral impulse go, and Ashley is the one making it difficult.

That reading is assuming that Andy is a moral impulse, which I think is... either wrong or too simplistic. Every time I see that reading, it's from someone who's trying to paint him too sympathetically and absolve him of most moral responsibility. I also find it infantilizing to equate morality with childhood in such a way? But that's another tangent that I didn't sign up to talk about. What I do think, however, is that it's a useful framing device to display his own relationship with morality; the allegory to his child self doesn't have to be there for the general pattern to exist.

When Ashley starts to grill Andrew over the killing of the 302 lady, he gets mad. Very mad. Ashley sees it as pointless, as him covering his own ass, but he genuinely did it for her sake, because he thought that's what she wanted, and that it'd make her happy. But what makes her happy isn't violence- or any similarly extreme action for that matter- it's attention and validation. Something he's always reluctant to give her, despite the fact that he always chose her over the alternatives. But despite making that choice, it's always empty and meaningless, because in Ashley's mind, he never did it for her sake.

And hoo boy, does he not like it being framed like this.

He is perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to keep them happy and safe... but only for her sake. It has to be for her sake. He still needs that traditional role, and he still needs to have a narrative in which he's the good guy- a protector. Because it can't be for his sake. It can't be because that's what he wants. He has to uphold that romantic (in the literary tradition sense) ideal. His darkly romantic idealistic streak colors many of his actions and beliefs. This is most plainly visible in his quip about a double suicide being romantic, but it's also visible within the symbolism present within his dream, such as how he can only pave his own path in blood unless Ashley lights the way. It's visible within his appreciation for poetry, and it's visible with how the cultist within the dream speaks in Shakespearean English.

But the transient nature of this ideal is also revealed within this dream, because there's never a cohesive, guided path, even with Ashley there to light it up. Contrary to Ashley's dream, where you literally have maps showing you where to go, Andrew's dream has many more dead ends and no map to guide him. The symbolic role he acts out gives him no clarity, and there's no overarching narrative; merely a bunch of disconnected symbols.

This is contrasted with Ashley's dream, which has narratives so clear that the story literally gives the dream an episode title.

In a sense, he wants to view himself as an actor acting out a role in a story. He wants his life to be poetic, to represent something greater, and to have a cohesive narrative. This is why he's so disconnected from his true desires: He's more concerned with acting as a representative of an ideal than a person with agency. But every time the mask drops, every time he stops acting, his true self becomes visible. He naturally settles into being comfortable around Ashley, in treating her with warmth and kindness, and their banter becomes much less toxic. As intent as he is on acting out his role, it does nothing for him, and as his dream sequence shows, it doesn't even form a cohesive narrative, because he can't act one out. It's too contrary to who he really is, and what he really wants. But that idealization doesn't just apply to himself, it also applies to Ashley. Specifically, who Ashley is, vs who he wants her to be.

In his unique dream sequence, he sees two versions of Ashley; the child version of her- Leyley- and the adult version of her- Ashley. And the differences in the ways he interacts with the two of them are stunning. Leyley is an obstinate, annoying child. She's the one he NEEDS to take care of, and he hates that. He hates Leyley for what she did for his childhood. He hates that he needs to provide for her. He has the option of trying to kill her, even, over something as small as a candle!

But in the room with all the murders, the gilded cage, he sees Ashley as an adult. This version of Ashley is stuck in a closet that he himself has to open- and to choose to see. Their interactions are calm and friendly. She teases him a bit, sure, but she's still helpful, and they have fun together. He doesn't need her, and she doesn't need him. He needed Leyley- needed the candle- but here, there are other limbs strewn about for him to take. And, crucially, he doesn't even have the option to kill this Ashley for one of the limbs.

And during the choking scene, he lets her go the moment she acknowledges that he doesn't need her anymore. This is the first time we know of that he seems comfortable enough to set a clear boundary, which is acknowledging that their prior dynamic is dead and that they're now Andrew and Ashley, not Andy and Leyley. It's a bit late to express a clear boundary -after- literally acting like he was going to kill someone, but it's the first time we know of that he sets a clear standard for what, in his mind, would improve his relationship with Ashley.

After all, what he wants is to want her, not need her. He wants Ashley for Ashley's sake. Not for what she can provide him. He doesn't even need her for sleep, he just wants her. But Ashley has trouble acknowledging this, because he's never before shown that WANT. Only a NEED. She keeps trying to find ways to make him need her, because she's never seen what his desire for her is really like. She's only ever seen him desiring someone else, someone other than her.

She's only ever seen him as Andy, because she's never truly seen Andrew, only the violence he can inflict on others. But Andrew can see both:

He can see Leyley, the needy, bratty child who always needs his attention, that he needs to provide for. The one he hates and wants to get rid of. The one he kills for to protect.

And he can see Ashley, the one who engages in friendly and cute banter with him. Who comforts and shows him physical affection. The one he loves. The one he kills for to make happy.

He just can't choose which one he wants to see. Every outside influence- from his parents, to Julia, to Nina- makes him see her as Leyley. Ashley herself makes him see her as Leyley too, whenever she brings up all the things he did for her, and calls him Andy, his child self, instead of Andrew, his current self. And as long as he sees that child, he feels like one too, and can never give Ashley anything that comes from the heart.

But he really, really wants to see Ashley as an adult. He wants to take pride in her, how much she's grown, and how driven and competent she really is.

But god damn, does that bitch ever make it hard, because there IS no real difference between Ashley and Leyley. She's grown and changed over time, taking more adult (and stereotypically feminine) responsibility upon herself, but the fact that her temperament and personality hasn't changed much obfuscates that growth. When you talk to Ashley in the closet during the dream after getting the limb, Andrew asks Ashley to come out of the closet, but she refuses to come out because he won't invite Leyley over to play, which is a pretty strong metaphor for how he interfaces with different aspects of Ashley's personality and refuses to accept others. But the reality is that he needs to accept both, or rather, see her whole self as Ashley, rather than just the parts he likes.

In the end, it's him who has to make the choice how to see her. Ashley can only see what she's been shown, but Andrew can choose.

And in the basement scene, he makes that choice.

If Ashley refuses to leave him alone with their parents, that's it. In one of the most critical and important moments of his life, she couldn't give him the space needed to make up his own mind. She couldn't treat him as an adult. She couldn't see him as Andrew. If she does give him that choice, she chooses to acknowledge that Andrew is an adult who can be trusted to make his own decisions, even though she (perhaps foolishly) believes that this choice lines up with her own interests. And frankly it does either way, but in accepting their mom's offer, her chooses to see her as Leyley once and for all. He chooses not to reciprocate what Ashley showed him. He does it because he needs to, not because he wants to. Because it's his duty, not his desire.

This is what results in the Decay ending. Through his inability to see Ashley as an adult, he surrenders his agency and views all of his actions as an extension of his responsibilities, his role, which he no longer wishes to uphold. He dissociates fully from who he really is, acting in accordance with that disconnected, barely-cohesive narrative that exists only within his mind. The game starts to resemble the heartwrenching tragedy that many seem to take for granted that it is, as their dynamic fully doubles down on its painful toxicity. And, in an example of a poetic book end, Ashley's dream shows a double suicide, closing the book on their tragic tale.

It's tragic. It's heartwrenching. It's poetic. It's beautiful.

...Except it's not. Not at all.

It's actually fucking stupid, pointless, and brutal, and Burial shows us that. When we view their spiral as beautiful, we project the same darkly romantic ideal that Andrew possesses onto the story.

But the actual reality is horrifying.

Ashley spends most of Decay terrified of Andrew, the one person she found comfort in. He acts cold, distant, and aggressive towards her, showing pointless cruelty instead of any warmth. All she wants is comfort; all she wants is to not die. She doesn't want to engage in this death spiral at all, and, in her dream sequence, shows none of the same willingness to die alongside Andrew that Andrew does with her. The moment we stop focusing on the end of the Decay dream sequence, which has very striking imagery, and if you choose not to shoot, one of the most beautiful scenes in the game, we can see it for what it really is:

A scared animal running away from a predator.

The moment you see Decay through Ashley's eyes, and not the perspective of some romantic ideal, Decay becomes terrifying, tense, and painful. There is no catharsis to be had in this tragedy. It's easily avoidable as long as Andrew chooses to engage with reality, and not the empty promises of his mother and incoherent narrative of his ideal.

Finding beauty and meaning in tragedy is how we cope with the harshness of reality. But there is no coherent narrative to the tragedies we experience, just like there's no coherent narrative to the ideal Andrew wishes to uphold. It's something we create- that he creates- but it's not something that actually exists.

And when Andrew casts aside his desire for that ideal, and the responsibilities it shackles him to, it grants him clarity that he never had before. He sees the world for how it really is, and acknowledges that nobody- the least of which their mother- is as different from Ashley as they pretend to be.

They're no better than her, and he's tired of people pretending that they are. People are all the same, no matter what ideals they try to uphold and represent. They still sacrifice others in the name of advancing themselves, still punch down whenever they can, and still lay blame on those beneath them rather than try to take control of their lives. They just use those ideals to justify themselves, but Ashley, and now Andrew, reject even the need for that justification.

This is why I believe the story is nihilistic. Not in that it asserts the inherent meaninglessness of life, but in that it grapples with the ideals we uphold and how they obfuscate the reality of the world we live in. The story, intentionally or not, highlights how ideals are often but a pretense we use to justify what we were likely going to do regardless, and how holding to them too strongly can lead to our ruin- and how monstrous they make us look to those who do not share them.

Consequently, this is how I view the part of the fanbase who thinks Decay is a good ending.

(the characters themselves represent existentialism rather than nihilism but i couldn't really fit that analysis in here without it feeling forced so i might cover that another time)

From that point on, their relationship becomes a lot more friendly, lighthearted, and playful. They ironically start acting more like children, but to quote CS Lewis:

"Critics who treat adult as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence."

He's not ashamed of being playful with Ashley, or showing affection towards her. He's grown up. He finally sees her, and himself, as an adult- although he still doesn't show that in full until much later on (more or that later). But in Decay, he still sees her as a child, and to an extent, probably himself. Let's compare the ways in which he reacts to being called Andy. In Decay, he lashes out at Ashley and gets angry, even threatening her. But in Questionable Burial, he calmly says that Andy is dead and doesn't need Ashley's comfort, but still tries to reassure her that she's still needed. He's not ashamed of or hostile towards their prior dynamic, because he's grown past it. He still acknowledges Ashley's need to feel needed, but here, he recognizes its importance to her, whereas he was hostile towards it before.

It's a display of respect towards her feelings.

This interaction doesn't happen in the Sane ending, however. He doesn't play games with her and is just a lot less fun to be around all together. Why is that? Because he still hasn't yet shaken viewing Ashley as Leyley there. He still views her as a burden, as someone who needs taking care of. He's calmly accepted that, too, mind you, but he lacks respect for her because she's still a child, in his mind. But in Questionable?

The vision did more than just make him extremely embarrassed and lay his deepest desires bare. It forced him to recognize Ashley as an adult. When choosing between "Never" and "Never say never," if Never is chosen, the burden of thought is lifted off of him. But if Ashley chooses "Never say never!", he has to reckon with the fact that Ashley is an adult, someone who can consent to those kinds of things. Someone who MIGHT. Someone who has agency, and can make her own decisions. And more importantly… someone who can trust him to make his own.

Whether he desires sex or not is secondary; he's always had those feelings and has always been ashamed of them. But now that the part of him where that shame came from is dead and buried, there's no childish impulse to grow up. There's no attachment to the hate and bitterness he had before. Look at what he worries about when he picks up that she's uncertain or confused about who he is now:

​

It's her feelings.

He wants to be fun to be around. He wants to make Ashley happy. He loves her, and not as a romantic interest or even as a sibling. He loves her independent of all that baggage.

He loves her as a person.

Their relationship runs contrary to societal ideals in some pretty huge ways. So contrary, in fact, that it's hard for some to accept it as anything good, that it can ever be best for the people involved. It's incestuous. It involves them killing and eating their parents. It involves them distancing themselves so much from society that it's hard to believe they'll ever fit in it again. It's chaotic, it's messy, it's codependent, and maybe even toxic. And yet, here they are. They're coexisting. They're happy. They're healing. They're navigating the world in the only way they can: together.

Meanwhile, in Decay, Andrew refuses to allow himself to get closer to Ashley. He surrenders all agency to her, buys into his own narrative, drinks his own Kool-Aid, and may or may not condemn one or both of them to death in the process. Like it or not, the only path where Andrew takes ownership of his life is the one where he's closest to his sister. It's the one where he decides where they will go next, the one where he decides his own feelings matter, and acts in accordance with what he wants instead of how he thinks he should act.

His agency, his freedom, and his growth don't happen in spite of his codependency; they're happen because of it. They can't grow alone. They can't heal alone.

In reading the story, one must interrogate how important those societal ideals are in the face of the realities of what makes people happy. Are those ideals worth upholding in spite of this? Can we really allow people to fall through the cracks in the name of social norms? Can we blame people for taking rash actions when the social contract has failed them?

Or are we so blinded by those ideals that we can't see that people can be happy while blatantly disregarding them?

All I know is that in Burial, Andrew, having cast aside normalcy, now appears to be truly happy for the first time in his life.

Who are we to take that from him?

[angeart]

Tips for not getting stressed out from writing, coming to you live from someone who has done this for 18 years and got a degree in it:

- remember that you write for fun. This is the big one. You write because on some level you enjoy it. Sometimes you gotta lasso that abd reel it into your heart and hold it there so it stays.

- keep compliments close at hand. And i do mean this literally. I print out AO3 comments and friends compliments and keep them in a jar to pull them out at random when I need a little brain boost. I keep a folder of screenshots of nice things people have said on my pc.

- accept that not every day is going to work out. Even the best authors have days where the words wont work, days where they wont flow at all. Its okay to take a step back and not worry about it. Refer to my first tip: youre doing this for fun, you dont have to force yourself

- get silly with it. If youre really having a day where you want to write and its not working and its frustrating you but you cant put it down it is TIME for the sillies. Set a tiner. 5, 10 minutes. Write whatever comes to your brain. Fully turn your editor off. I get sentences like "And the doh turned blue and whacked rhe tennis ball with its tail into the bridge". Utter nonsense. It helps to get the wiggles out

- handwriting can also be helpful. I keep several journals, and glitter pens, and fun markers - sometimes doing the task physically instead of digitally helps to get the wriggles out.

- sometimes you have to accept an idea is not working. It takes experience to figure out when this is, but youll get there. Come at ideas from different angles, back out entirely and rewrite older scenes to make new scenes work.

I hope these help you!!!

thankyouuu for sharing these!!! <3

it's true that the positive comments are always a great motivation. maybe i need to start a collection for myself. indulge a little. (shut up the eternally dissatisfied part of my brain-)

i'm honestly struggling to find a balance between knowing i write for fun, and the pressure of it. (they're happening simultaneously, sometimes seemingly too closely intertwined.) but maybe one has more weight than the other, and i have to realise that only one of those should really hold any priority.

i'm very tired now, but i'll be rereading all these again later and letting them settle in gently. thank youu

[hazelfoureyes]

How are you so good at writing smut??? It legit makes my body warm all over and my brain fuzzy, you fucking smut wizard <3 do you have any tips on writing smut? Or just writing in general?

Thank you for such a compliment! 💖🥹This is mildly embarrassing-- but I really am so horny?? I am not playing a character. lol I am a goblin. When I watch porn (for pleasure) I just take in the sounds and the sights, really just going full art reviewer on that shit for inspo even when I'm not trying to.

"Wow his cock got so big suddenly, is he going to cum? his head his massive...omg he sunk it right back into that guy after he came?? he's still going!? DICKS CAN DO THAT?" *takes mental notes*

"Her hips kept pulling away there before she orgasmed, overstimulated a bit maybe, love how he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back down" *jots down on my notes app*

"wow the way he said that-- jesus I just got dizzy I need to hear <whatever character> say that." *writes Luci saying that shit immediately* I am unqualified to give tips on anything, but I'll tell you what I tend to do! For smut; I just focus on sensations, I think. We can all see what sex looks like! Imagining the feeling of it, that's whats so fucking hot to me. Why is that man moaning? What is he feeling that is so good? What made her legs shake like that? Yeah his dick went into her pussy. Nice. But like---- was it warm? did his head get caught on the way in, popping past that unyielding flesh untrained to his size, just at her entrance? did the feeling of wet walls and a tight grip make him go weak for a second, mind blank?

For general writing; oh geez....I have a super visual brain, so I just try my best to describe what I'm seeing.

If it feels like I've forced someone to say or do something, then I back up and try again.

I wrote a part in A Doe in Fall part 4 that I had to redo; I had reader slap the detective when he suggested maybe she was hitting on him, a man coming to intervene making Brady get nervous and apologize before leaving all flustered.

But I realized--- no, this reader is too smart. She would never make a scene like that, she wouldn't know what might happen. What if everyone watches her then sit with Alastor? What if people notice and somehow remember seeing him? What if they recognize him? I loved the scene but I had to remove it. She would never do that, even if I loved seeing it.

I try to just shut down a little and see what my brain throws out unfiltered. It's really mentally taxing. I'm either 100% focused or I can't do it. I proofread maybe 6 or 7 times, or more. I don't stop until I get through it at least once without edits, and if I find myself bored of reading it, then I walk away for a second. If I am too disinterested to read it again for proofreading or just feeling the flow of it, then why would anyone else want to?

Hazbin Smut Masterlist I spent way too long rereading before posting

I felt this like this wasn’t helpful at all 😭