#Glossier Play

[stardust-swan]

The Kind of Girl I Want To Be

Buys herself pink peonies and roses

Wears scents like Parfums De Marly Delina and Oriana, Miss Dior, YSL Paris, Prada Candy, Mon Guerlain and Chanel Chance Eau Tendre (she sprays it in the morning, after showers, and before going to bed)

Bakes heart shaped sugar cookies and macarons

Spends rainy days sipping rose tea from floral china while reading beautifully bound classic novels

Has a bookshelf filled with first edition poetry books, gilded editions of fairytale books, volumes of the Little Books of Fashion series, leatherbound classics, and Harlequin romance novels

Drinks peppermint tea in the morning and camomile tea at night

Sleeps on pink silk sheets and has a satin kimono robe

Plays Brigitte Bardot, classical music, and soft jazz in the background

Takes ballates or yogalates classes

Plays the violin or cello

Watches Audrey Hepburn and Anna Karina films

Adds sweet almond oil and rose bath tea to her vanilla bubble bath

Has a seasonal pass to the ballet and regularly visits the theatre, old bookshops, botanical gardens, and art galleries

Keeps things like French Girl lip tints/Glossier lip balms/Too Faced lip glosses, a hand mirror, a comb, some bonbons, a book, a rollerball of perfume, hand cream, a piece of rose quartz, a scrunchie, a nail file, spray on SPF and bubblegum in her bag at all times

Is always up to date with Fashion Week

Writes in her diary daily in swirly writing using coloured gel pens, pressing flowers between the pages and spraying perfume samples on it

Lights Yankee Candle Fresh Cut Roses or Rainbow Cookie, keeps soap and lavender in her wardrobe, and has vanilla diffusers around the house

Lives in a cosy home filled with beautiful things, like paintings by local artists, lots of cushions and throws, soft lighting from salt lamps and fairy lights, potted herbs and succulents, vintage vases filled with floral arrangements, DIY macramé and embroidery projects, a bowl of different crystals, signature Barbies on a shelf, rattan furniture, fluffy towels in white, pink, baby blue, and lavender, pink Dove or rose Roger et Gallet soap and Jurlique rose hand cream on the bathroom sink, pictures of her loved ones in antique frames, floral patterns everywhere, antique mirrors, and beautiful porcelain teasets

Goes to French cafés to enjoy a vanilla oat latte with a millefeuille or almond croissant

Always wears diamond or pearl earrings (often paired with a charm bracelet or gold heart locket)

Enjoys rosé wine, champagne, and strawberry daiquiris at lunchtime occasionally

Snacks on strawberries, sugared almonds, dried fruit and nuts, and Turkish Delight

Applies powder, rosy blush, lipgloss, and puts ribbons in her hair at her vanity table, which is decorated with a ballerina music box, vintage perfume bottles, and trinkets shaped like swans, angels and shepherdesses

Has her morning and evening routines down pat: waking up to melodic music, opening the windows, making the bed, doing gentle yoga, simple skincare, getting dressed, applying makeup, and eating a simple but delicious breakfast in the morning, and having a warm shower, doing more decadent skincare, putting on comfy cotton or satin pyjamas, journalling, enjoying a calming cup of herbal tea, reading, looking out the window at the moon, and falling asleep to relaxing sounds like ocean waves, gentle rainfall, and white noise at night. Her life runs like clockwork.

Is gentle, sweet, romantic, and full of love to give

[peachhcs]

the perfect moment

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

someone requested will and samy's first time, so after trying to write it for nearly a month, it's finished! again, please read at your own risk, this is very explicit!!

3.6k words

warnings: 18+, smut with a tiny bit of plot, but like all of this is smut again. p in v (protected!), slight handjob, hair pulling, sucking on boobs, a bit of praising, very consensual, making out, hickeys, grinding, i think that's it??

this is how i pictured samy and will's first time going! because will's whole life was hockey, he never really had time for a lot of experimenting. there's small talk of religion in this (idk if will was/is actually catholic but somewhere i thought he was. take it all with a grain of salt, this is just how i thought it would go/how will and samy would be :))

au masterlist

one of the last days before summer ended and will couldn't stop thinking about one thing.

will's eyes glued themselves to samy's lips and the way she applied chapstick making her pink lips even more pink and glossier. he couldn't look away even if he wanted to because all he could think about was kissing that chapstick right off and the feeling of her plump lips against his own.

something had the blonde's brain wired up the past couple of days.

he couldn't stop staring. everything samy did, will's eyes were on her. drinking water? staring. playing volleyball? staring. jumping into the lake? oh, will was definitely staring.

he just couldn't tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. something was making the blonde's brain go haywire. he'd get worked up over the littlest thing like seeing the brunette in one of his boston college t-shirts and just her swimsuit. one second he'd look and the next he'd be painfully hard.

will felt like a fucking fifteen-year-old again going through the stages of puberty and getting hard at almost everything. he felt pathetic, really—stepping away to relieve the ache in his cock because him and samy have only been dating for two and a half months and the farthest they've gone was making out with shirts off.

he didn't know what too soon was and he did not want to make her uncomfortable with his weird boyish desires that had been creeping up a lot more lately.

so will suffered in silence and it was fine for a few days until him and samy caught themselves in a heated make out session while everyone was outside.

the boy nipped harshly at her lips, tugging her hips impossibly closer against his own. samy giggled—music to will's ears. her own fingers danced around in his hair, twisting it and tugging at the roots leaving the hockey player to see stars.

she shifted against him and will's boner pressed against her thigh. whether she noticed it or not, she didn't say anything. usually, neither of them would mention it when they started making out and they'd ignore it, but this time was different.

"are you always this hard?" samy breathed against will's mouth, pulling apart slightly.

"w-what?" the boy stuttered out earning a smile from the brunette.

"you're really hard," the girl commented making will blush embarrassingly hard—like whole face a tomato in seconds. he immediately shifted away from her, feeling embarrassed about how turned on he was from just kissing for five minutes.

"s-sorry?" he didn't really know what to say, but samy raised her eyebrow.

her boyfriend—a 6'0, forward, hockey player—was sorry that he was hard? she's known will her entire life for having such a hard outer shell—seeing him stand before her bright red and nervous seemed like such a different person than she's known, but samy didn't think it was a bad thing.

"why are you apologizing?" the girl laughed, pressing her hands against his torso.

"i-i don't know. i-i don't wanna make you uncomfortable?" will struggled finding the right words. he had a hard time reading samy's face which was rare considering how close they were.

"do you think i'm uncomfortable?" the girl wondered. will stared at her for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"no.."

"you're right, i'm not. i think it's hot that you're hard. i mean, i'd be worried if you weren't," she laughed, easing some of the tension in the boy's shoulders.

the girl placed a finger on his chest, slowly dragging it down. she wanted to try something, watching the way a shaky breath escaped will's lips as he struggled to keep his eyes open under her touch.

the once stable boy seemed to crumble in her hands and boy, did that do something to samy's head and ego.

she carefully pushed the blonde back onto her bed where he stared up at her with a look in his eyes that was a mix of confusion and intrigue. a gentle smile spread across samy's lips knowing she wanted will to feel as comfortable as possible because at the end of the day, he was her best friend and the two have known each other since they were babies. this side of their relationship was still so fresh and new.

will's hands found their place on her hips as samy straddled his lap. this wasn't anything new. she was usually on his lap when their kiss became more heated, but right now, the feeling of her thighs pressed against both sides of will's legs did something to him. his hands shook while his heartbeat grew more rapid with each kiss they shared.

"you okay?" samy wondered between kisses. she could feel his rapid heartbeat from where her hands held their place at his neck.

"mhm, yeah," will managed between heavy breaths.

with that, samy continued kissing her boyfriend's lips while her fingers felt his silver chain beneath his shirt. she curled the metal around her one finger, slowly edging it out from under the shirt. the blonde was very aware of her hands on him, her touch like fire on his skin. the metal now dangled above his clothes along with the small cross pendent hanging off the end.

samy's hands dipped further down, attaching to will's neck and dragging back down his torso. a noise sounded from the back of will's throat that was a mix between a moan and whimper as samy's hand got dangerously close to where the boy wanted her touch the most. he's actually thought about this moment for weeks, always imaging it and hoping it'd become a reality.

finally, her hand palmed his bulge through his shorts. will's brain short-circuited, a loud "fuck" escaping his lips and then a "wait. wait."

samy immediately pulled her hand away, eyes jumping back up to her boyfriend's, "what?"

will's mouth worked faster than his brain, cursing to himself for making her stop before he could even think about it. his face flushed while samy searched his gaze worried she did something wrong or moved too fast. what she didn't know was that will wanted her to keep going. he just...how did he tell her this without her most definitely laughing at him?

"i-i've never..i've never done this..before.." the hockey player managed to get out.

a silence fell betweem them as samy took in his words and will quickly started internally panicking.

"oh."

that definitely wasn't the response will expected nor the statement samy expected from her boyfriend.

"oh? good oh? bad oh?" the boy searched her eyes, growing conscious of his revelation. maybe he shouldn't have told her.

"no, no, no. not a bad oh. just..surprising?" samy gently laughed, pulling her fingers through will's hair again. his eyes softened out, turning into puppy-dog eyes.

she did not think will was a virgin. the youngest hughes for sure thought will messed around in his dev years considering all of the girls that were always at the games and the ones his friends constantly talked about. he was a catch, so this news was very surprising to samy.

"oh," will muttered, unsure of how to feel, maybe embarrassed? ashamed?

hockey had always been will's number one. since he could walk, the only thing taking up space in his brain was hockey. hockey, hockey, hockey. girls was never something on the blonde's mind. not nearly as much as the sport he loved. wanting to be the best and prove how good he could be, will devoted all of his time to the ice which meant limiting his social interactions. it had always been that way and for awhile, will didn't mind. he went to an all boys school before moving to michigan, so it wasn't even a problem.

the status of his virginity or experience never mattered with who he was with because the guys were as locked in as he was—maybe not ryan when he started dating julianne, but their minds never wandered off too far. all of that changed when things in will's mind started shifting some years ago, when samy started taking up the spot hockey once did. soon, all his mind could think about was the girl he always saw as an annoying sister.

"hey, hey, don't feel embarrassed. it's normal," samy read the look on her boyfriend's face, quickly making him look at her. will just flushed even more under her stare.

virginity was a concept will heard a lot about growing up catholic. going to a catholic high school taught him a lot about "waiting until marriage" which wasn't something the boy entirely agreed with. his views definitely changed as he got older and thought less and less about his religion. obviously, not completely, though. the silver pendent dangling off his neck was a small reminder keeping him tied in, but that didn't mean he wanted him and samy to stop doing whatever they were about to do.

"h-have you..done this before?" will didn't even know if he wanted to know the answer. a pang of jealousy bubbled in his stomach at the idea of some other guy doing this with samy before he could.

"uh..yeah, but not a lot. like twice or something," samy quickly mumbled.

"oh."

"it was with that guy i dated briefly junior year. it wasn't anything crazy," the girl filled in making sure will knew she was no where near super experienced, but she knew a thing or two.

'"right," the blonde nodded. he remembered that guy a little too well, never really fond of him whenever he was around.

"we don't have to do this if you don't want to," samy said softly, caressing her boyfriend's cheek. he leaned into her touch.

"i want to..i just..i don't really know what to do past making out," will mumbled shyly, avoiding her gaze.

"that's okay. i can help," the girl encouraged with a smile. the hockey player met her eyes seeing how reassuring they looked.

"okay," he mumbled, smiling.

with that, samy attached her lips back to will's lips. the two shared another passionate kiss, the blonde's confidence slowly returning as he worked his tongue into the girl's mouth. she hummed, slowly dragging her hands through his curls before shifting lower again.

will felt drunk on her kisses. he never wanted the feeling of her lips against his to stop. his breath caught in his throat when samy's hand returned to the bulge in his pants.

"do you trust me?" the girl wondered. will nodded.

"gotta say it, will," she urged, needing a vocal confirmation.

"yes, i trust you," he managed through breathy pants.

will felt her grin against his lips as she slowly slipped her hand into his shorts. the boy jumped at the feeling of her warm hand against his clothed cock. "fuck," he let out.

"okay?" samy wondered.

"mhm, okay," the boy said, quickly nodding his head as samy stroked him through his shorts.

will's hips stuttered uncontrollably. his mind was racing along with the dreams he's had of him and samy doing this. her hand fit so perfectly around his length and god, it was so much better than his own hand.

"ugh, f-feels good," the blonde muttered, somewhat nervous still.

"yeah? feels good?" samy smiled, satisfied with the sounds she was pulling from will. he nodded with his head tipping back a little, struggling to keep his eyes open because he wanted to ingrain this moment into his brain forever.

his open neck was the perfect opportunity for the girl to pounce. she hooked her lips onto his throat, quickly sucking which pulled a guttural moan from within the boy. he bit hard on his lip in fear that someone would hear them while samy continued her stroking and nipping his skin. 

from knowing a small thing or two, will decided to try something. he slipped his hand up her shirt until it stopped on her boobs. a small gasp left his lips when he realized samy wasn't wearing a bra under her shirt. 

"okay?" the girl asked sensing his hesitation. 

"y-yes. yeah. you're not wearing a bra," he said a bit bluntly. a tiny chuckle left her lips. 

"is that okay?" 

"more than okay," will breathed. he cupped one breast with his hand, feeling samy's nipple harden under his touch. 

he stated rubbing it in tiny circles—something one of his teammates said girls like and boy, was he right. a soft moan escaped samy's lips which filled the blonde's chest with pride that he did that. 

he decided to keep going by adding a few squeezes on the covered bud. samy squirmed atop his lap which was definitely not helping the arousal in his pants, but will tried ignoring his own needs, wanting to focus all on samy. 

he continued that for another few moments before samy decided they needed their shirts off. she tugged at the bottom of will's and he quickly took the hint as he pulled it over his head. it flew somewhere in her room and his mouth watered a bit in anticipation for samy to lose her shirt. he'd never seen her completely naked on top, only with a bra still on. 

as soon as will saw her bare nipples, he thought he'd cum on the spot. they were so beautiful in a bra, the blonde had no idea they could get even better without a bra. 

"you can touch," samy nodded encouragingly. 

will slowly cupped both hands on her breasts. he squeezed before rubbing both of his thumbs over the buds. another moan left the brunette's lips, her head tipping back. the boy didn't waste a second attaching his lips to her skin like she did minutes ago. 

this wasn't new to will. he was practically a pro at giving hickeys in the most hottest, yet hidden places. samy's arms wrapped around his neck like she wanted him closer so his face was practically in her chest. 

he sucked everywhere across her top half—neck, collarbone, the soft flesh of the tops of her breasts. before will even knew it, her entire nipple slipped into his mouth and made contact with his tongue. 

a louder moan left the girl's lips and will knew he wanted to pull more of those sounds from her. 

"fuck, just like that will," samy moaned out, tugging harshly at the root of his curls. the boy hummed, trying to focus everything on samy and not his desperate need for a release. 

the girl let him go back and forth on each for a few more minutes before pulling him up and reconnecting their lips. will's swollen lips were slick with his saliva all while he tasted samy's signature gloss: strawberry. it made him dizzy in a good way because all he wanted was to kiss all of it off. 

"think you're ready?" samy wondered, not wanting to move too fast. the hockey player quickly nodded feeling the strain in his shorts and the way his hips were just involuntarily grinding against samy's core. 

"so ready." 

with that, she climbed off his lap, instructing him to pull his shorts and underwear down. samy dug through her drawer for a condom, flashing the imfaous rapper before pulling her own shorts down as well. will's entire mouth watered seeing her almost completely naked besides her underwear. 

"you're so gorgeous," the blonde muttered, not even able to tear his eyes away. 

will sat with his cock out where it occasionally twitched against his stomach. the tip was red and definitely ready, although he grew a bit conscious under samy's longing stare. 

did she not like it? was he not big enough? was he too big? 

the worries clouded will's brain until samy climbed back onto her bed, stroking her boyfriend's cheek to bring him back to reality, "remember, you can say no or stop at anytime, okay?" 

"i know," the blonde nodded. 

he watched his girlfriend rip open the rapper with her teeth which was quite literally the hottest thing he's ever seen. she found his gaze, silently asking permission to touch him. 

when he nodded samy's hand slowly wrapped arpund his length. her hand was enough to make him jump, "fuck." 

the precum oozing from the pretty tip was helpful as lube. as samy's thumb rubbed along the slit, will's head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut this time and his hands gripping the bedsheets. 

"so, so pretty, will," the brunette praised earning a large blush on his cheeks. 

"you think so?" he managed to get out through breathy pants. 

"mhmm. you're so big," when he found her gaze again the boy nearly lost it. she looked at him through hooded eyses, a mix of love and lust in her features. 

once will had enough, samy slowly slid the condom down. the plastic material caused a stutter in his hips and a small curse leaving his lips at his girlfriend's gentle touch. she fell back onto the bed, ushering the boy to follow her lead. 

he hovered over her, their breaths mixing together in slightly nervous pants. will's cock throbbed at the feeling of samy's entrance so close, yet he never broke eye contact. "just go slow and not rough," the girl explained. 

"right, of course," will nodded. 

he took ahold of his length, carefully directing it to samy's hole. the boy bit his lip, the anxiety bubbling in his stomach that he wouldn't do it right. the further he pushed his hips forward, the more his tip slid into samy. 

they let out loud moans at the first contact. "oh fuck," the boy moaned out. 

"like that, will. feels good," samy encouraged, gripping onto his biceps. 

he pushed himself further in, resisting every urge to thrust in, but his self-control was slipping fast. finally, he bottomed out. a mix between a sigh and groan escaped both of their lips. samy wrapped her legs around will's while they took a second to adjust. 

god, he felt even better inside of her. will thought the same as samy's walls squeezed every inch of his length along with his need to cum already. 

"whenever your ready," samy rubbed his back in soothing circles. 

"yeah, in a second. fuck, you feel so good," the boy muttered out. a thin line of sweat glistened across his forehead and at every inch where they were connected and touching. 

everything was so overwhelming for the hockey player. samy's boobs pressed against his chest, her legs wrapped around his, her squeezing him like her life depended on it. 

finally, will found it in himself to slowly start moving. he carefully raised his hips until just the tip was inside before pushing back in. 

"yeah, shit. so good," samy's praises fueled will's confidence as he picked up his pace little by little. 

"mm, fuck. you feel incredible. you're so beautiful," will rambled through his immense pleasure. 

he found a good speed while samy tried meeting his thrusts as well. the room filled with sounds of their sex and fuck, did they really hope no one walked by her room. 

will definitely wasn't going to last long. samy knew that based on how sensitive he was and the way his cock throbbed inside of her every time she squeezed a bit harder. the boy hid his face in the crook of her neck as his panting increased and incoherent thoughts tumbled from his lips. 

"oh fuck. fuck. yeah, mm—not gonna last," he managed through broken pants. 

"it's okay, you can cum," samy squeezed his shoulders. 

"want you to cum too," will had enough mind and knowledge to know that samy needed pleasure and a release too. 

he stuck his one hand between them, remembering from another teammate where the clit was. his fingers quickly rubbed it in fast circles wanting samy to release before he did despite his stittering hips and need to cum so close. 

samy's own hips stuttered at will's touch. she bit hard on his shoulder, trying to keep quiet as her climax approached. the pleasure overtook the pain, so will hardly felt a thing. 

"yeah, fuck. right there. keep going. don't stop." 

"god, i'm so fucking close. gonna make me cum. please tell me you're close," will urged, not sure how much longer he could hold back his load. 

"so close, will. keep going, please," the brunette nodded, voice high-pitched and squeaky. 

the dam broke. samy's climax hit her hard, her back arching off the bed further into will's chest. he wasn't far behind, spilling into the condom with the uncontrollale thrust of his hips and the string of curse words leaving his lips. 

"oh god, fuck. oh fuck," will collapsed, sweaty and spent. 

his hips continued in little stutters with a bit of aftershock. samy wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as his face hid in her neck trying to regain his lost breath. 

"did so, so good will. so good," the girl praised, kissing the side of his head. 

"best first time ever," the blonde sighed. 

he finally lifted his head to meet her gaze. his curls stuck to his sweaty forehead, but the smile never left his lips. samy just giggled, "glad you think so." 

will slowly pulled out, groaning at the feeling of his cock slipping out. he pulled the condom off, placing it in the trash before laying back down and scooping samy into his arms. 

"not so bad, right?" the brunette raised her eyebrow. 

"with you, it was perfect," his words made her flush. gentle kisses were placed against her skin trying to savor everything from the best moment ever. 

[lasciviouspoison]

omg hey guyssss!!! this was literally written off the fly, lol. each time i get 🍃 i think abt plug eren and how he’d be obsessed with the pretty college girl he serves to. tw: plug!eren x chubby reader, implied inexperienced reader, implied black reader (anyone can read!!), afab!reader, and, obviously, anything else i missed. not proof read cause idgaf :p

ps. y’all i loved writing this and i love my man. missing him bad :(

plug!eren that loves serving u, his prettiest customer. always makes sure to respond to ur text within the same minute, no matter the condition he’s in.

plug!eren who gets so happy when u ask him to teach u how to roll. each time he’s served u, he’s just brought u pre-rolls since u never bothered to ask for any other rolling materials. but this time, u finally caved and asked him to teach u, saying, “i’m just tired of spending my money on a multiple pre-rolls everyday. i wanna roll for myself” - mind u, eren hasn’t ever charged u.

plug!eren that sees u eyeing him intensely when he starts licking down the sheet, green eyes challenging yours each time he goes to toast the j. he got off on hearing your breath shudder slightly each time he gave it a lick, laughing silently to himself.

plug!eren who watches you smile brightly upon not ripping the sheet (you went through 3 before getting it right). he critiques your j as the two of you hit it, saying u only really needed to work on your mouth piece. however, it was hard for u to digest anything he was saying over the loudness of your thoughts. you couldn’t get the image of eren licking the j out of ur head, wondering if he’d take that much care with u. head between ur legs, using his tongue with the utmost precision. god it’d feel so good -

“whatcha thinkin’ bout pretty girl?” eren’s voice pulls you out of ur thoughts and u smile, not trusting urself enough to express ur feelings without flat out telling him you wanted to fuck.

“i’m just… thinking about everything… you know?” he laughs at the slow pace and raspiness of your voice.

“hmm.. want rennie to make the thoughts go away?”

your head lolls onto the back of the couch and your bra-less chest points toward the sky. he can see the outline of your pierced nipples through your baby pink tank top and he sighs.

the two of you finally make eye contact once more and you lean your head up towards his, eyes deadlocked on his lips.

“please.”

that was all eren needed to hear before engulfing you in his arms. he pulls you onto his lap and runs his hands up the sides of your body, taking extra time to trace the chub that outlines ur tummy.

he drags his thumbs over your nipples causing your body to jerk. he smiles slightly and flicks his eyes up to yours, silver eyebrow piercing glittering in the warm livingroom lighting. he peppers kisses along your jawline before finally kissing your lips. you can’t help but think about how soft his lips are and it makes u let out a soft moan.

he breaks the kiss but never stops rubbing on you, “you taste so sweet. is it ya lipgloss?”

you smile, “yeah. it’s that glossier shit. cookie butter.”

he kisses you again, running his tongue over your lips once he breaks it once more, “i bet your pussy’s sweeter than this though.”

before you can respond, he reaches down into your shorts and plays with the waistband of your panties. rubbing his fingers over the outline of your cunt, causing you to shiver each time.

eren kisses your lips once more and finally touches your bare pussy. once his fingers find your clit, he makes the smallest circles and your hips jerk. he can feel you begin to pull away from the kiss, but his mouth follows you, preventing you from complaining.

he begins to apply a bit more pressure and you ease up in his grip once more. his fingers then travel down further and begin to make their way inside you. unable to hold yourself together, you let out a slight “fuck” and eren groans.

“you’re so fuckin wet. you mus’ really like me, huh baby”. he licks his lips and kisses your neck.

“yes ren… liked you since i first seen you.”, you admit.

eren pulls his head from your neck and grips your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes. “aww. baby had a crush on ‘er plug. gonna make this pussy feel so good for you, ‘kay?”

after a small yes, eren lays you down gently on your couch and begins to pull your shorts and panties down. your hands go to cover yourself and he pins them to your chest. he then pulls your tank top over your head and leaves the material loosely around your wrists.

immediately after, eren removes his shirt and your eye to eye with his tatted stomach and chest. you knew by his arms he had a lot of ink, but it was never assumed to go this far. his tattoos were so sexy though, they made your mouth water.

eren then began his assault on your neck once more, this time gradually making his way down your body. he ran his tongue over your nipples, releasing each with an obnoxiously loud pop.

as he made his way down your stomach, you could feel him start to lick down your body, making a point to leave a trail of red splotches in his wake.

when his eyes deadlock on your pussy, you can feel eren’s dick jump in his pants. he takes his thumb and pulls the hood of your vagina up, taking his sweet time in admiring your pink pussy.

he licks his lips and smirkss at you before diving head first in between your legs. his long, pink tongue swirls over your clit so gently, it makes you see stars. he licks you just like the sheet, so slowly that it takes your breath away.

he sucks gently on your clit and your hands reach down to run through his hair. your fingers wrap around the root and pull slightly, causing him to groan into your pussy.

his hand runs up your leg and you feel his middle and index finger push into your walls, gently caressing your g-spot.

by this point, your writhing so hard against the bed eren’s had to use all of his strength to restrain you with one hand. and while you knew eren could overpower you, having firsthand proof made you all the more wet.

with a few more licks to your clit, eren found you suddenly tensing up against his tongue, small body shaking and convulsing around his tongue as your orgasm overpowered your senses.

“pretty baby’s never came this hard huh? s’okay, you got somebody to handle you now. i’ll make this cunt cum everyday. my perfect girl.”

with the combination of eren’s dirty words and his gentle caresses against your nipples, it was extremely hard for you to ground yourself within reality. he was too good at sex, especially for someone as inexperienced as you.

eren finally rises and removes his jeans. his black calvin’s cling to his hips and muscular thighs as he drags you by your ankle to the edge of your couch.

he pulls down his boxers and his dick hits his stomach with a dull thud, angry red tip leaving a bit of pre where it made contact with his stomach.

he presses your legs against your body and grips his dick, hard. he runs it through your fold a few times, using the slight curve of his dick to hit your clit each time he got close. he tapped his dick against your clit a few times, and finally slipped it in.

with the two of you simultaneously gasping, eren’s grip on your hips got tighter, desperately trying to will himself to not fully sheath himself inside of you. as he slowly slipped in, he could feel your pussy twitch against him, forcing him to thumb at your clit.

“need ya to calm down baby. gonna squeeze me to death” his voice is rough and restrained, similar to his hips.

you respond, breathless and weak, “m’tryin. feel you s’deep”

his eyes flick up to yours, “oh yeah? where ya feel me baby?”

your head peaks up slightly and eren takes a look at your fucked out face. lips wet, red, and swollen, eyes watery with rosy cheeks. you were so beautiful, he never wanted to take his eyes off of you. but, he had a more pressing matter at hand.

your hand reaches down and presses on your stomach, signifying to eren where his dick is inside you. however, you choke out a moan and add onto his ever growing ego, “but i swear ren, i feel you in my throat. you’re just so - fuck - you’re so big” placing much emphasis on big.

his eyes roll into the back of his skull as he looses all composure. his hips snap relentlessly into yours, bullying his cock into your tight pussy. by this point, eren is not only lost in the feeling of your cunt, but knowing that he needs to feel you cum around him.

he keeps a hand locked onto your jaw, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. you can see how feral he is behind his eyes and it makes you gush. he’s like a wild animal and it turns you on way more than you ever imagined.

with a particular thrust, eren hits that soft spot inside of you and your legs instinctively lock around his hips. the worldless confirmation was all he needed to continue to hit that special spot inside of you. as the speed of his hips increases, he finally reaches his peak, with that familiar pulse of your pussy shortly following.

a particularly loud “fuck” leaves your mouth at the same times eren grits out your name. his hips operate on autopilot, snapping back into your cunt at a jagged pace.

once eren returns to earth, he sees the white ring of cream you left around the base of his cock. he swipes two fingers down and places them to your lips. “suck”, is all that leaves his mouth and you follow his command.

as eren slowly pulls out of you, your head lolls against the couch and you finally feel yourself catch a breath.

when eren returns, he uses a warm rag to wipe you up before helping you put your clothes back on. after he follows suit, he picks you up bridal style and carries you to your room.

he sets you down and pulls back your baby pink duvet, tucking you into the blankets. you reach your hand up to him and grab his shirt sleeve, confusion and hurt dancing behind your eyes.

eren kneels beside your bed and pets your hair, “i’m not runnin out on ya y/n. i jus gotta do my job. i’ll be back once im finished, promise.” he gives you a gentle kiss on the lips, and you can hear his shoes scuff against the hardwood floor as your eyes close.

however, hours later, you’re awoken to the sound of knocks at your door and your phone ringing; it’s eren.

“hello?” you answer, voice groggy from sleep.

eren chuckles slightly and lets out a breath, “told you i’d be back ma. lemme in”.

[elskiee]

you are playing the father of the atomic bomb why the fuck are you wearing huda beauty voluminizing mascara glossier blush in the shade "beam" charlotte tilbury concealer pat mcgrath eyeliner and dior fucking lip oil with clinique black honey lipstick???? cunt

pic: @/cill_i_am on twt

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 4 - Toy Mouse

Heat is being greedy, so Kid puts him in his place.

WC: 3.6k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

At first things seemed fine and normal with Heat. He was clingy, definitely, but at first you just chalked it up to him being a little touch starved. It wasn't until he refused to leave when you needed to use the bathroom that you realised something might be off, not even turning away to give you privacy. It was difficult to do your business like that, but something about the dark look in his eyes when he watched you made you aroused and more willing to do what he wanted. He kept you by his side 24/7, with no chance of going off on your own even at night, when he kept his tail coiled around you like a boa constrictor with its prey. He never hurt you, but the lack of privacy was starting to get grading, not to mention your cunt hurt from how many times he'd mounted you. Sometimes you woke up with him already inside you, which you didn't mind so much, except for the fact you were exhausted and he was interrupting your sleep constantly. If you tried to scold him, he'd just give you sad little puppy eyes, and you couldn't help but give in. By day three it seemed like all you did was eat, sleep and fuck. He barely left the bed or let you leave, instead having someone bring meals to the bedroom so he could keep you to himself, and you were beginning to feel like you had no agency in your own life at all. As much as you enjoyed being used like a personal fleshlight, some fresh air would've been nice.

On day four of Heat keeping you captive, the others decided they'd had enough. Heat was slacking off on his chores to play with you, and Kid was sick of his insubordination. He had warned Heat right from the start what would happen if he acted too possessive, knowing full well it was in the wyrm's nature to act like this, and with Sabaody on the horizon he decided to do something about it. Both you and Heat were summoned to Kid's room, where he had his own private dining room he sometimes used for meetings.

As it turned out, the stairs in the stern castle led to the captain's quarters, in other words: Kid's floor. Only the commanders and whoever was responsible for cleaning his chambers were allowed up those stairs unless invited, so you felt highly intimated as Heat led you up. At the top of the stairs was a short hall with two doors, the first of which, Heat explained, went to Kid's workshop, and the other to his living quarters.

The main part of Kid's quarters was made up of two rooms, separated by a large archway. The first chamber held the dining room and bar, a similar setup to the commander's table on the stage downstairs in the galley, while the second chamber held his bedroom. Another door led through from the bedroom, you would learn later that these led through to a walk-in closet, and beyond it a bathroom which also connected to the workshop, making one large loop that took up the entire expanse of this floor.

Kid's main chambers were decorated as you had expected in reds and blacks, with deep scarlet wallpapers decorated with an embossed baroque pattern that was glossier than the base, but the same colour, giving a subtle texture to the walls where the light caught it. The lower third of the walls were shiplapped with a deep ebony wood, almost black, the doors, framing and much of the furniture being made of a matching wood. The floors were a slightly brighter wood, with large black and red ornate rugs with purple accents laid out under the dining set and bed. The bed itself was a gothic styled canopy bed, with an ornate headboard and deep red sheets, set with red velvet blankets and a red fur much like his coat draped over the end. At the end of the bed was a long purple ottoman, and the room also held several dressers that matched the bed; side tables, a purple velvet loveseat and matching armchair, a small glass topped coffee table in front of the sofa, and wrought-iron faux candelabra lighting fixtures scattered around the walls of each chamber. Each chamber also had a grand matching chandelier in the centre of the room, both sections lit in warm orange light. The dining section also held two china cabinets with glass panelled doors, one one either side of the room. The first held a multitude of expensive looking liquors and crystal glasses to enjoy them with, while the other seemed like a collection of antique weapons, a variety of well kept guns and knives of all kinds.

Kid, Killer and Wire already sat at the dining table as you and Heat entered, Kid in a throne-like seat at the end of the table that was taller and more ornate than the other chairs. Heat pulled you into his lap as he sat, wrapping his arms around you protectively. The others rolled their eyes at the overly possessive action.

“Come now,” Kid tutted, “come warm my lap instead, mouse.” He pushed his seat a little away from the table, patting his knee to invite you over. You made to move to him, wanting to be obedient, but Heat made a growl behind you and held you tighter. “Heat, what did I say? Do I need to take your toy away from you permanently? Prove to me this wasn't a mistake to let you take responsibility of her”

Heat grumbled but let you go, knowing that if he didn't give in then Kid would have to send you back down to the brig, and he didn't want to give up having you warm his bed. You spared Heat an apologetic look as you walked to the head of the table, and Kid quickly pulled you into his wide lap, the large, jewel encrusted belt buckle he wore digging into you as you tried to get comfortable. His hand rested on your inner thigh as he held you still, the other against your waist to pin your back to his chest. You could feel the vibrations in his chest from his deep voice whenever he spoke, while Heat watched on with a deep, unhappy scowl on his face. Kid's hand was so high on your thigh that he could swipe his thumb over your slit, making you bite your lip and squirm as he put pressure against your clothed cunt.

“Wipe that fucking look from your face, snake, she offered herself to everyone, quit being selfish,” Kid barked at him.

“Don't call him a snake,” you said quietly, a slight quiver to your voice, “that's not nice. He's a dragon, not a snake”

“Damn, you showed her your full form already?” Kid laughed, “no wonder she fuckin’ stinks of you. I'll just have to put my own scent on her,” he jeered, running his sharp canines over the pulse point of your neck, making you shiver. Heat made a growl, black smoke leaking from his mouth, and Kid openly laughed at him, running his hand further up your thigh to cup your cunt while his other hand grabbed a tit, making you let out a surprised squeak. “Sounds like I'm gonna have to put your boyfriend in his place, mouse. Be a doll and bend over the table for me.”

You moved to do as he asked, apparently not moving fast enough for his liking as he suddenly manhandled you, pushing your front down against the table and yanking down your borrowed sweatpants and oversized briefs. You couldn't help but let out a whine as he ran two fingers between your folds before bullying them inside you, finding you already wet from just his earlier teasing. “Little mouse is already soaked, you want this don't you, whore? Want me to use your greedy cunt? It's sucking my fingers in.”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, blushing heavily and trying to ignore the other three men in the room who were watching you discerningly, most of all Heat who was growing angry as Kid played with his toy. There was wet squelching and the metallic jingling of gold bracelets as Kid finger fucked you, showing no mercy as he scissored his fingers to stretch you out as quickly as possible, adding a third thick finger and curling them down to press against your g-spot. “Ahh- hnng- Kid-” you moaned, writhing against the table, one of his hands still pressed to your back to keep you from getting up. He forcibly ripped an orgasm from you, not letting up even a little as he felt you clamp down around his fingers, and you heard the soft pattering of fluid hitting the rug as he made you squirt.

“Fuck, now there's a good whore,” Kid praised, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean, savouring your sweet taste. If he had more time he'd eat you out, but this wasn't about making you feel good, this was about putting Heat in his place. “You didn't say she was a squirter, Heat. Sweet little mouse, making a mess on my rug. I'm gonna make a fucking mess of that pussy. See who you dream of then.”

You heard the unbuckling of his belt behind you, his blue sash thrown to the floor beside you as he yanked down his pants. You turned enough to see his erection, gasping at how impossibly thick he was, somehow even thicker than the base of Heat's dragon form cocks, though not as long. The man was built like a fucking soup can. Kid gave Heat a shit eating grin as he pushed your head to face forward again, lining himself up and pushing his cock into you far too fast, knocking the air from your lungs and making you sting from the stretch. If it wasn't for how regularly Heat had been mounting you, the stretch would have no doubt made you scream in pain, but thankfully Heat had been giving you no time for your cunt to recover fully.

“Fuck, so tight,” Kid growled, grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise and immediately starting a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your thighs with every snap of his hips. He couldn't care less if you came again, his only goal was to cover you in cum so Heat would smell him on you for days and remember you didn't belong to only him. He was enjoying your tight cunt though nonetheless, seriously considering keeping you around for a while just to fuck even if you turned out to be full of shit.

You squirmed and moaned at Kid's rough treatment, moving too much for his liking. He made a frustrated growl and lifted a leg to the table, pressing his boot against your head, threatening to crush it. “Stop fucking squirming bitch,” he barked, “take what I fucking give you.”

You could smell the dirt and dried sea salt on the sole of his boot, as well as the polish he used to shine the leather (or more likely, that another crewmate used). You couldn't help the string of moans that left you at the degrading treatment, your nails digging into the wooden table top as your clothed tits slid back and forth against it. You made the mistake of looking ahead, making eye contact with Wire, who looked highly amused, his eyes dark and hungry as he twirled his trident on its base. You whined at his expression, he was watching you like you were nothing more than a plaything, practically seeing the cogs in his head turning as he considered all the things he would do to you when he got his turn. Killer's face was of course unreadable, but he watched you with crossed arms, sitting in a relaxed looking slouch with his mask pointed right at you. You expected Heat to look upset, but instead his eyes were wide and blown out with lust, finding surprisingly that he actually enjoyed watching Kid fuck you. He could get used to this, he thought. Possessiveness still prickled in the back of his mind, already planning on coating you in cum the second he got a chance, maybe he'd even piss on you for good measure, but for now he was enjoying watching Kid use you, and seeing the way your eyes rolled back at his merciless pounding.

“Oi, you two,” Kid pointed at Killer and Wire, “jerk yourselves off, we're gonna paint this bitch with our cum so Heat knows to share in future.”

The two of them didn't hesitate for a moment, already rock hard from watching as they each unfastened their pants and pulled out their cocks. You couldn't see how big they were from this angle, but just knowing they were fucking themselves while they watched you was enough to make your legs shake, clamping down hard around Kid's cock and near screaming as you came. “Oh you like that huh? You like seeing them jerk off while they watch me fuck you?” Kid laughed, “you were born to be a whore. That's the real reason you ended up on this ship, a perfect little whore, made just for us.”

Heat made a move to touch himself, but Kid growled and snapped a finger at him. “Not you, selfish cunt, you're just gonna sit there and watch. You've had enough turns already.”

Heat whined, putting his hands on the table, his fingers twitching and shifting nervously as he struggled to control his urges, black smoke puffing out of his nose with every strained breath. Kid removed his boot from your head and pulled his cock out of you, flipping you onto your back unceremoniously before he grabbed your thighs and pulled your ass to the edge of the table, reshealthing himself with a grunt. He grabbed your shirt and tore it open easily, exposing your breasts which bounced with every thrust. He tweaked and pinched your nipples, making you whine and your back arch of the table. “Fuck, look at those tits, these natural baby?”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, thighs squeezing around him involuntarily as he started rubbing your clit hard with a calloused thumb.

“Fucking nice,” he growled, groping your tit hard before his hand moved further up and squeezed around your neck. The restricted air flow made you light headed, adding to the dizziness you were feeling after two hard orgasms. You vaguely registered the creaking of the table behind you and the striped mask hovering over your face, before Kid released your neck, only for Killer to grab your face and tilt your head back, shoving his cock in your mouth and giving you no time to adjust before he was gagging you with it. You had to keep your eyes shut as they watered, trying hard not to gag as Killer's cock choked you, so you didn't see how Wire stood at your side, playing with the tit that Kid wasn't already occupying as he continued to fist himself, rolling your nipple between his fingers and slapping your soft mound. Your hands came up to grab at the lacing on Killer's jeans for support as you slid back and forth on the dining table, unable to concentrate on anything except for breathing through your nose.

You moaned around Killer's cock as Kid pulled at your clit and you came again, your gummy walls squeezing him and pulling him to his own peak. He pulled out just in time to coat your pussy with cum, thick ropes beading between your labia and dripping to the rug below as he panted. The other two took that as their cue, Wire spraying hot ropes over your tits while Killer unloaded over your face, leaving you thankful that your eyes were shut. The three of them left you whining and panting on the table, leaving you cold as the three hot bodies around you suddenly disappeared. You felt used but in the best kind of way, running your hands over your body and playing with the cum, pushing Killer's into your mouth and moaning around your fingers as you sucked the frosting from them.

“What do you say, mouse?” Kid purred, sitting back in his chair, pushing his cock back into his pants.

“Thank you captain,” you whimpered, touching your oversensitive clit with gentle circles. You couldn't help yourself when you felt unbelievably lewd covered in the collective cum of three different men.

“Look at her, can't get enough, she's jerking herself off with my cum,” Kid laughed, “go on then mouse, make yourself cum, show us how much you like being our little cum rag.”

You whined as you touched yourself harder with purpose, knowing it wouldn't take much to get yourself off given how sensitive you were right now. You dipped your fingers inside yourself, curling them the way you knew you liked best, zeroing in on the spot you knew would make you squirt, wanting to impress Kid. You sat up a little to reach better, seeing Kid's shit-eating grin as he watched you, looking pleased and amused as you fingered yourself in front of him. “Good girl mouse,” he purred, “you gonna cum for us sweetheart? Show us how much you love being the ship whore.”

“Ahhh- Kid~” you whined, your torso falling back to the table as your back arched, pumping your fingers fast in and out of your overused and gaping cunt as you felt the coil in your abdomen pull tight, your free hand running over your breasts and spreading Wire's spend over them. “Gonna- gonna cum- can I cum captain?”

“Good mouse, you can cum,” he purred, impressed by your naturally submissive behaviour. You did so immediately, squirting hard with a scream the whole Grandline would hear. With nothing for your release to catch against you almost got Kid with it, which pleased him greatly to watch as your release sprayed out over the rug and tabletop. You collapsed against the table with your legs draped over the side, shaking and twitching with aftershocks, entirely spent. Kid pulled your fingers from your cunt and licked them clean, making you whine as he gave your pussy a playful slap. “Good girl, mouse, you did good. You can go back to Heat now sweetheart.”

Heat helped you off the table, pulling you into his lap where you could feel his raging erection straining in his pants under your ass. He buried his face in your shoulder with a needy whine, and as exhausted as you were you couldn't do much to comfort him, so you just pressed your face against his. Killer and Wire had already returned to their seats, acting like nothing had happened, like there wasn't a puddle of fluids on the table or a stain on the rug, and like you weren't still covered in cum, not that Heat or yourself minded. He hated smelling the others on you, but he was too turned on to complain.

“Right,” Kid cleared his throat, “now that we've gotten that out of the way, Sabaody is a few days away.” You did your best to show him you were paying attention, but it was difficult given your half asleep state. “So you better have a plan for how you're gonna prove you're not full of shit. As tight as that pussy is, you ain't stayin’ on the ship if you can't prove your story.”

“Mmm, I have a plan, Captain,” you replied with a half-lidded gaze, “I can write down everything that'll happen, give it to one of you so you know I'm not changing it. Then afterwards you'll see everything I wrote down happened. I don't think you should read it till you're back though, I don't know yet if telling you will change things, so while I'm proving myself it would be best to play it safe.”

“Hmm,” Kid hummed, “alright then. But Heat is coming with us, so you're gonna have to come too. I don't trust anyone else to babysit you when we have no proof right now that you don't have powers.”

“Ah, I'd rather you lock me in the brig, to be honest,” you replied anxiously, “not to spoil things but Sabaody will not be… uneventful… and I have no way of defending myself. I'm a decent shot with a rifle from a stationary position but I have no experience with fighting. I only know how to shoot because my dad used to take me hunting, I'd be no good in a real fight. I'll just be a burden out there.”

“Fine, but if you turn out to be full of shit, don't think we won't drag you straight to the closest human auction house,” Kid threatened.

“Noted,” you shivered, hoping like hell that you just being in this world hadn't already fucked up the series of events due to play out. You weren't keen on getting branded and sold off to some Celestial cunt. Being used like a sex doll was only fun if it was with your favourite boys.

“Heat, get her cleaned up,” Kid barked before standing, “you're dismissed.”

Heat quickly picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the room without another word before Kid could change his mind, eager to have you to himself again. He'd clean you up, for sure, but not before he put his own mark on you.

[Next Chapter]

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[whatifyoulivelikethat]

irresistible, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook provokes you into fucking him. Just not before you finger-fuck his mouth in the middle of a kitchen that belongs to neither of you as a summer party rages outside.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; strangers-to-lovers; JK is a brat until he gets served punishment; intense D/s smut (fem reader, noona kink, spit kink, slight humiliation / degradation kink, choking, hair pulling, scratching / marking, denying him kisses, nipple play, dry humping, m-masturbation, cowgirl, semi-public sex, ball torture); non-idol!BTS – sub!Jungkook x noona, dom!reader

yeah, he has the double lip piercing, I like what I like, shush JK's appearance based on CK campaign and 'SEVEN' promo photos

--

now playing – irresistible by fall out boy

“Noona, I heard something very interesting.”

“And what is that?”

“I heard you punish bad boys.”

“Your point being?”

“Well, I can be a bad boy.”

“Hm, you are not going to provoke me into fucking you.”

“Do you wanna bet?”

-

He said, “Punish me if you think you can,” and you said, “I don’t need to.”

His eyebrow cocked.

You clarified.

“I will make you want punishment.”

Jeon Jungkook. Honestly, not your type. So handsome he seemed fake. Pretended not to care when he cared too much. Had a habit of taking car selfies with a certain lack of respect to them and spontaneously posting them on Instagram to farm thirst comments. You didn’t know about the last part until earlier this week. It was essential to the process, obtaining background research of the subject.

And now you were alone with him.

In a hotel room.

Sitting in a chair placed in front of the end of the bed, primly crossing your legs, contemplating if you were going to fuck the man in front of you. You studied the details of his face. Striking eyes. Tan skin that looked malleable and supple. You could tell he was wearing lip product. A balm to make them more appealing, glossier, a deeper pink. Mood, texture, color.

He had not one, but two silver lip rings on the right edge of his shapely lips.

Let’s start there.

Your own lips curved into a smirk and you lifted your hand.

Jungkook frowned at you, chiseled jaw and furrowed brows included. He was sitting with his legs partly open, hands laced behind his head like a reckless bad boy, acting as if he needed to be impressed. He had messy black hair past his eyebrows. The strands grazed above his lashes when dry and would cover his vision completely when damp. His prominent collarbones were visible under the low-cut, baggy black t-shirt. Black leather jacket was tossed aside, exposing the stark contrast of his heavily inked right arm and his equally defined bare left arm.

Your right hand raised and you placed your lips between your middle and index finger.

Opened your mouth.

Right away, you could see it.

Jeon Jungkook thought he was a lot of things, or at least tried to portray a certain image, but those big, dark brown eyes betrayed him every time.

Your flexible tongue traced a subtle v-shape between your fingers, almost, almost touching the skin, but not quite. Barely a millimeter away. Close enough to feel the heat of the warm muscle. You saw him pause. Falter. A crack in the glass. Your lashes lowering, expression demure other than your obscene mouth trapped the frame of your fingers. His stare fixated, lips parting, forgetting his confidence in this lewd display of juxtaposition. Lidded gaze, red lips, pink tongue. You licked the air between you and him, come hither.

His hands were falling, falling, slowly drifting down his sides.

“What…?”

His voice was a little too tight, a little too interested for someone trying to play it cool.

“W… What a-are you doing?” he breathed out.

You didn’t reply.

You just moved your fingers. Tucked down your index and pinky finger. Pressed the ring and middle side by side. Then your tongue slid out, jaw lowering, and you collected your two joined fingers into your waiting mouth, sliding them into the slick, glossy, perilous dark hole.

Jungkook sucked in a breath, his eyes widening.

You tilted your head, licking around your fingers. Circling around them. Slow. Thrust them in and out, letting the saliva drip down, down, closing your lips around them softly, your red lipstick being ruined, and now there was absolute quiet. Not even breathing. This was now an erotic silent film and you were the star, your eyes barely open but seeing everything, fucking your mouth in front of his face and observing Jungkook’s reaction. His body tense, trying to hide the tremors. His lips parted, trying to mask his staggered exhale. His legs adjusting to bunch up his loose, classic blue jeans, all so the crotch wasn’t pressed right against his body.

You smiled around your fingers, sinister and sly.

Pulled your fingers out of your mouth. Lingering down the right edge of your lips. Your fingernail grazed the full underside of your lower lip, ghosting your skin, down your chin and the curve of your neck, fanning your fingers over your collarbones. Careless smears of red across your skin, fading down to clear gleaming saliva over exposed throat.

Your wanton, sultry sigh invaded the air between you and him.

Jungkook stared at you, mesmerized by the view.

Like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation.

“Hurt me,” he whispered.

So easy.

Or perhaps he had no idea that he said it, because he straightened a little, chewing on his lip and abruptly looking away. Silent but you could see how hard he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Shivers subsiding but oh-so-slowly, as if he wanted to savor their departure. Still, he was avoiding your attention. You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a spare tissue, wiping your hand and dabbing off your chin. His head jerked back at your action.

Jungkook frowned.

Disappointed.

Wanted more.

You got up from the chair and stood, looking down at him.

“I am leaving,” you announced.

He flinched as if slapped and then immediately scowled, hiding his startled surprise with veiled annoyance. “What? Why? I haven’t done anything!”

You folded the used tissue absentmindedly as you spoke. “True. And that’s why I’m leaving. You aren’t interested. You are simply trying to use me to get a good story. I wasn’t affected. She’s nothing special. Hmm, I appreciate the consideration,” you added in a dry tone that did not, in fact, appreciate the consideration. “But you can make up whatever story you want as I take my leave. Feel free to get creative. I won’t dispute you.”

Jungkook sprang up from the bed, seemingly seething. “What? No. That’s stupid. I don’t want that. I rented a hotel room just for this. For you. What, you think I’m not good enough for your talent or something like that?”

Pressing his buttons, one by one, was almost too simple.

“Oh, no. I’m sure you’re good at sex,” you hummed calmly.

An uneasy flicker across his face.

“I just think you’re not ready for what I’m about to do to you.”

His expression sharpened. Biting onto the challenge. You faced him as an equal rather than an overbearing presence. For now. You held eye contact as you breathed out. Gave instruction, gently.

“Be honest with me.”

Your hand darted out, hovering under his chin.

Almost, almost touching.

“Place your chin in my hand if you want to be honest with me, Jungkook.”

-

The stench of summer sex.

You drenched yourself in it and when you surfaced, you shook out your hair and went onto the next.

This was the game.

Just like the game you just played, leaving with an open white dress shirt over your red bikini top and tiny black shorts, sauntering away from the bedroom. The man in there needed to come down. Needed to bask in what had just transpired. Maybe simply needed to hide after you had ravaged him. You on top, your chest to his back and your lips whispering in his ear, do you like this, getting fucked with your friends outside, a dirty deviant, aren’t you, your fingernails down his spine, his words ringing in your ears, mark me, harder, please, harder, and yours huskily back, and what if someone accidentally sees these pretty scratches or is that what you want, you want your slutty side to be seen, don’t you, harder, sinking your teeth into the curve of that ass, tasting those hips and those open legs.

Speaking of legs.

The large floor-to-ceiling windows threw sunlight all over yours as you strode down the hallway, casting your black, shapely shadow over the wall. Outside, the pool was occupied with people. Laughing, drinking, playing around. You could hear the splash of water. Watch showering rainbow droplets spray all over the glistening bodies under the scorching sun.

Fun.

You stepped into the kitchen for a quick glass of water before you were about to make your exit. No need to apologize to the host. He knew what you were here for. Well, you were the reason he was currently a sweaty mess. Heh.

And then, Jeon Jungkook, striding into the kitchen to corner you with his silvery voice and sexy body.

“Noona, I heard something very interesting.”

Like you haven’t heard that shit before.

With the lingering taste of desperate kisses on your lips, you told Jeon Jungkook that you would not be provoked into fucking him.

“Do you wanna bet?”

You tilted your head at that. At him and his open white dress shirt exposing his muscular chest and black swim shorts slung low on his hips. At that cut v-line and visible abs. Showing off, but none of it wasn’t something you hadn’t seen before. You paused, stopping your observation on those eyes. Those black-brown irises shivered at your eye contact. Pupils dilating, darkening them. Ah. Alright. You played along.

“Stick out your tongue,” you instructed.

He made a face, and, after some hesitation, stuck out the pink tip of his tongue.

Obedient.

Interesting.

You raised your hand. Placed the pad of your middle finger on the tip of his tongue.

His eyes widened.

“You want it?” you asked him.

Those untainted eyes shimmered, brows furrowing.

You slid your finger down his throat.

“Let me check your gag reflex.”

And you pushed it down, down, down into warm wet tightness with absolutely no change in expression, watching Jungkook’s eyes widen into shock, his lips involuntarily closing around your finger, almost drawing back, but then you began to move, slowly thrusting into his mouth, lifting your other hand that was holding the glass of water so you could drink.

What?

Hydration was important.

A long, slow sip, casually fucking Jungkook’s mouth with your middle finger in the center of a large kitchen that wasn’t yours, in clear view of anyone who might walk in right now. He could jerk back, he could sputter and tell you that you were a freak, but Jungkook simply stood there, frozen, as you drank your water and stared into his eyes and violated him.

Calmly.

Rubbing the pad of your finger on his soft tongue, coating your finger in his spit.

He wasn’t your type. You liked them a little more honest. But maybe it was a front to keep the riff-raff away. Or something else. Hard to tell if worth exploring. You pulled your finger back slowly, tracing his lower lip. You noticed the small mole below, right at the center. Your nail lightly grazed the two silver rings at the right edge of his mouth, his warm breath on your glistening fingertips. He was a close friend of the one you fucked less than ten minutes ago.

Hm.

You handed him your half-full glass of water.

“I’ll get your number and then we shall make the arrangements. Don’t forget to drink water. It’s hot.”

And then you left him there.

-

Now, Jungkook placed his chin in your hand.

You felt the quiver of his breath. The nervousness. The vain attempt to swallow it all down.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

He did. Trying to shadow those large brown eyes with his lashes, hiding behind a raised brow and wayward strands of black hair, but the hard edge in that gaze eroded as your fingers caressed his jawline. Carefully. Softly. Gently stroking his neck, circling around the perimeter of his throat, turning your hand to place the tip of your middle finger on the mole underneath his parted lips, reminding Jungkook of that moment in the kitchen.

Oh.

He was reminded, all right.

He made a noise like a choked moan.

Then Jungkook tried to pull away, his ears bright red with embarrassment, but your wrist twisted. You sank your fingernails into his chin and dragged him back. A pained gasp and his eyes flooded. Shimmers of shame. At his sound? At himself for trying to run? Or at himself for liking it? Maybe all of them.

“I want you,” you murmured.

You could see your words from before haunting his thoughts, adding meaning to your rather simple declaration.

Be honest with me.

“Do you want me?”

I will make you want punishment.

He seemed to have forgotten his own words though, forgotten his doubt and the front he had been putting up all this time, simply letting his unfiltered emotion spill out in a whisper.

“Y-Yes, noona…”

You saw he wanted to say something more, so you waited, loosening your grip.

Stroked his cheek.

Coaxing.

“But… I’m afraid…” he breathed, on the edge of nearly not saying it. “What if I’m worse than all the others you’ve had? What if you hate it? What if you never want me again?” Shivering inhale, nervously licking at his lip piercings. “I want to be good enough. I want you to like me. But if you don’t like how I am as much as I like how you are…”

He closed his eyes, not wanting his own eyes to reveal everything.

“Sometimes I imagine you…”

His hand lifting. Tattooed fingers around your wrist.

“Hurting me, and I feel so good.”

His voice getting smaller, making you silently step forward.

“I thought that was so wrong, but then… I heard you… with them, behind those d-doors…”

You breathed in his exhale, watching his lips move. The desperate need entangled in his tone, eating away at the fear, holding you to him as much as you were holding him to you, and maybe this was wrong, feeling gratified at his unsatisfied desire but so be it, you let it happen, let him drag it out, let him fabricate his own pain, embarrassed and ashamed in his confession.

“It made everything worse, knowing that you could punish someone, and it wasn’t me. It drove me crazy, you flitting into bedrooms and slipping away with others, but not me. I want your venom in me. I need to be good so you’ll want me most. But I don’t have any experience in this kind of stuff… I don’t want it to be anyone but you. All those people and none of them were me, and remembering that over and over again made me act like a dick, and I was, I was addicted to you without you ever touching me, hurting and wanting to hurt. But I need it. I crave to be your carnage.”

His brows furrowed, hesitating.

“But if I told you… you’d think I’m crazy. Wanting you without ever having you. Feeling like I know you when I don’t know anything.”

Yes.

It was crazy.

How wonderful.

You turned your hand and choked him.

-

Inevitable? Maybe.

Ignorable? Of course.

Worth investigating?

Hm.

You flicked through the social media profile of Jeon Jungkook. Hah. You knew of him. Interacted on the shallowest of levels. Hard not to, considering the other profiles linked in his photos. You knew those other faces. Had tasted those lips – and more, heh – like savoring a glass of fine wine on dark nights. Playtime was the agreement, so that was how it stayed. Ah, but you didn’t want to play a silly game with an unskilled player. There was no challenge in that.

What are you hesitating for?

The shadow of your previous conversation dawdled in your mind. Your questions about Jeon Jungkook answered, along with his number obtained.

You could be his maker.

You smiled wryly as you did at the time of that conversation. What am I, a vampire?

An artist, was the reply.

Some people wanted to watch the world burn, but they didn’t want to hold the match. Instead, they handed it to you and dared you to strike it. How strange. How strange that they did not choose to burn themselves. How else could a phoenix be born? There was no rebirth without ashes, no light without dark, no heaven shining above without hell burning below.

Or maybe they simply liked the idea of you ruling this circle of hell called lust.

Hmmm.

You stared at his photos.

“There is art here, waiting.”

You decided to send Jeon Jungkook a text, asking for time and place.

-

His eyes flew open and there was just something so delicious about the shock in them.

You tightened your grip.

Yanked him forward. Just enough power to cause slowed blood flow. There were two types of choking your enjoyed. The first, the kind that applied pressure but no crescents of pain. And, the second, pressure accented with your nails turning inward, digging into soft flesh to mark what was yours. Jungkook received the first.

For now.

“You like pain?” you asked, placid and almost bored.

Black strands framed those sweet chocolate eyes tainted by the darkness of something deviant.

You ticked your head.

The faintest movement that screamed, hurry the fuck up and answer or I will let go.

He immediately started nodding, his chin pinching down to the pocket between your thumb and forefinger. The danger zone but he didn’t know it. And yet, so smooth, your free hand gliding up, sinking your fingers into the tousled waves of his black hair and pulling back. A breathless whimper drifting up towards you, helpless and contentment all that once, drawing a slow smirk from your lips, and you could feel it upon seeing this display of submission. The race of your heartbeat and the shot of adrenaline. Addiction at its finest. The familiar rush flooding your veins as you yanked Jungkook’s head back by his hair and dug your fingernails into his neck.

“O-Oh, fuuuuck…”

His eyelids fluttered. Hard thighs shaking under you, tense hands gripping the edge of the hotel bed, crumpling the duvet with his desperate want. You placed one knee on the bed and continued choking him, controlling the power to the pads of your fingers and less on your fingernails. Oh, you would leave a mark, but you weren’t specifically aiming to make him bleed. Maybe if he asked nicely. Arcing his head back further, lifting the elbow of your choking hand, looking down into those half-lidded, hazy brown eyes.

You smiled.

Then you spat onto his cheek.

Jungkook flinched strongly, not expecting the sudden splat of liquid onto his face, but you held him still, witnessing his full-body shudder and the moan leaking from his tight throat. You unflinchingly took the full brunt of his intense glare. Trying to burn you with indignation that he didn’t feel.

You leaned down.

And licked his face.

Cleaned off your own spit, tasting flesh and anticipation.

Delicious.

“I taste good on you,” you hummed, running your tongue over his jaw.

His breathing was shallowing and it wasn’t from the choking. Low whines creeping out between gasps, more and more pathetic as you licked all over his jaw, trailing kisses, placing one on that mole but missing his lips. Toyed with his earlobe instead, silver hoops cool on your tongue compared to the hotness of his skin. You could feel the tension in his body reaching breaking point, giving you only a few more moments before you needed to let go.

He attempted to weakly plead your name without honorifics.

You instantly released him.

Jungkook sputtered and coughed. Blood rocketed to his brain in an uncontrolled rush, and it nearly blinded him for a moment, his body veering sideways and his arms shooting up, clawing for something to hold, but your black boxy cropped jacket had been taken off already, leaving you in nothing but a black velvet bra top and matching tight miniskirt.

Strong hands grabbed your hips, dragging you down.

You stood firm.

The hand that had held his hair was still outstretched. Jungkook was coughing and blinking hard, disoriented and coasting on the high that was forced release. He could do nothing as you pushed his head back and cupped his cheek, turning his face so you could admire the dug-in crescents marring the side of his neck.

A different kind of moonlight.

This feeling.

The kind of feeling you could only get from destroying something untainted. Something so special about only encountering this once. Or...? There was something about those begging brown eyes struggling to watch you that made you want to question that. An innocence that seemed to linger even though he knew – or guessed he knew – what was coming.

You reached up and stroked a fingernail over the red marks, playing connect-the-pain-dots.

“Spread your legs.”

You said it softly and with a vicious edge.

Jungkook’s breath hitched and he obeyed, moving his knees away from each other.

You chuckled.

“Wider.”

There was a slight frown in the line of his brows but Jungkook did as he was told. Wider. You nudged his knee with yours, still holding his shaking chin with your hand, almost a gentle caress, and you pressed his thigh open until his erection was jammed into the zipper of his jeans. Discomfort shadowed his features, nose wrinkling, but you merely continued to regard him with a faint smile, reaching down with your free hand.

Took his left wrist and placed his own hand over his denim-covered hard-on.

You could see the protest bubbling in those brown orbs.

“Feel that?”

You curled his fingers around the crotch of his pants and molded his fingers to his trapped length.

“That’s how much you want to fuck me.”

It was one thing to say it yourself. Another for the one you were lusting after to point it out and make you feel it, make you stroke yourself through your clothes with their hand over your hand, and now that was Jungkook’s position, you doing just that while staring into his eyes, forcing him to tease himself under your command, only able to view you from the side as you held his head still, his black hair spilling over his cheek and forehead.

“N… Noona…”

You closed your fingers around his and made him grip the seam of his jeans, enclosing the thick fabric around the head of his cock. His shoulders buckled and he moaned, powerful legs threatening to close but you pinned his knee to the bed, driving in the point of pain, daring him to disobey.

You ticked your head.

Moved your thumb to stroke his trembling lower lip.

“What?”

Your tone was serene. Inside the rampant desire was tearing your calm façade apart, arousal and exhilaration building, finally feeling alive in this circumstance.

Those glistening dark eyes shifted, enamored by your power.

“P-Please…”

I will make you want punishment.

You knew. He knew. Those words now embedded in his mind, toying with him, dragging him into his dark fantasies that he couldn’t and didn’t want to share with others. You could see it in this eye contact. Him on his knees, holding the hem of his shirt in his teeth, wanting your tongue on him. Him with his hands above his head, taut inked skin and flexed muscles, exposing his chest to the mercy of your raking fingernails. Him sitting with his legs open, your teeth sinking into his hard thighs, clutching his balls in your grip and pre-cum dripping off the swollen head of his cock, leaking out and dripping, desperate to be buried in your throat.

You held your breath.

Just to heighten the high of what Jungkook was about to say in that silvery, quivering voice of his.

He shuddered.

“Punish me.”

-

“How do I know you won’t back out?”

How cute. Jeon Jungkook had called suddenly and barked this question at you. No hello, no how are you doing. Not even should I bring a snack. Instead, anxiousness hiding behind irate accusation. The I-definitely-don’t-care-but-I-do attitude.

“You don’t know,” you chuckled, letting your words caress his ears. Unintimidated by his fire, allowing it burn closer and surround you. “You just have to trust me.”

You could hear the heaviness of his breath.

“I can’t trust you,” he snapped, slipping into his Busan satoori in his fluster.

And yet you still want to keep me on the line.

“Too scared of the risk?”

And he could hear it in your voice, almost. A suggestion of adoration. On the edge, darling, but it wasn’t there. Only hinted at. You heard him suck in a breath. Tight. Maybe he had never thought of it, that possibility, until right now, until your tone of endearment that may or may not be there, but he couldn’t be sure and that was why he was taking so long to respond.

“I… I’m not scared. I just don’t wanna waste my time.”

“Oh, but I do.”

You hummed, sighing softly into the microphone, listening to Jungkook pause, holding his breath, spellbound by your tone.

“I want to waste my time on you. Spend long minutes with my hands in your hair, chest to chest, layers of clothes between us. Straddle your lap. So close but so far. My lips skimming your jaw, your throat, your collarbones. I want to say anything. I want to feel you. Breathe you. Consume the moment for every delectable bite it is. Press against you. Trap your waist between my thighs and feel you squirm against me. For me. You want it? Ask for it. I’ll deliver.”

He couldn’t see you, but you could feel your smirk widening as you spoke.

“You have my word.”

Waited a beat.

“Jungkook.”

Sweet like a lover, and then you hung up, cutting off the paradise.

Mmmm, you did love edging them.

-

Hovering.

You hovered above him and his shaking lips, his naked chest beneath you, and held his wrists. Not because you needed to hold him down. No, he was too trapped in his role to fight you. Didn’t want to, even. Tightened your grip. Lust rippled over his expression, slipping further into service. You deliberately avoided his hands. Kept your fingers constricted around tattoos and tendons and stared into his eyes. Dark brown irises polluted by the dilution of his pupils.

You breathed in.

Low and slow.

Feasting on the tension.

Lips barely a centimeter from his and those shiny silver lip rings. Close enough to cause the tremble, far enough to deny. Just enough distance for your exhale to be the secondhand smoke he desperately breathed in, already craving that nicotine.

You lowered your lashes.

Slid the middle finger of your left hand down, down his right forearm. Raking a line of hurt over black and color, deep enough to cause real pain but so slow, so slow that it made those round eyes shiver, his head flinching, and maybe it was involuntary or maybe it wasn’t, but you still denied him. The smirk stayed your eyes rather than on your lips, making the moment even more maddening. Frustration flashing in those expressive chocolate orbs, close to begging, but still too proud to break.

He was reaching impatience, so you took action.

You lifted your hand from his arm.

“Art…”

You whispered to those yet-to-be-devoured lips.

“Requires a certain cruelty.”

Then you pressed your palm to his mouth and slashed your fingernails over his bare chest.

Jungkook choked on his own yelp and you snuffed it back into his throat with your fingers clamping down on his cheeks. His hands shot up sharply, and you glared with malice, all five nails perched like a spider on his red, shaking pecs. A second of hesitation, and you let him remember what he said, punish me, the recall of subservience crumbling the surprise in his gaze.

He did not stop you.

You rewarded him with drenched tongue over white-hot pain.

The potent moan radiated from his flesh to your tongue and then into your head. Pierced with lust, with submission, with confusion, for he didn’t understand how it could hurt so much and yet feel so good. You scratched him again, lower, indenting his muscle and reddening the skin, not hiding your veracious fixation of the marred color, hungrily pressing the flat of your tongue onto it so you could feel the carnal elasticity and the heat of inflammation, oh how wonderful, raking your teeth over the tension, your lips smearing past, kissing his body before you even kissed him.

This.

Burning skin on tongue. He tasted clean, almost sweet. As if he prepared for you. You sank your teeth into his side, your fingers splayed out on his collarbones, ah, yes. Wet. His chest was damp from your spit. You sunk your middle finger into the base of his throat and Jungkook was gasping, choking, his trembling hand encircling your wrist but putting no pressure. Whimpers. He very badly wanted to touch you more, but he couldn’t guess how much you would allow and that fear alone heightened his lust. You pressed harder onto that spot between the bone, closing your eyes, letting his cries resonate sweetly in your ears.

This rawness of emotion.

This was beauty incarnate.

You relaxed all pressure on his throat and bit his nipple.

“Ah!”

You wrapped your hand around his neck and gripped harshly as your tongue toyed with the now-hard nub, finally lowering your body onto his clothed lower half. Right between his thighs, not your crotch but with your stomach against his bulging erection, grinding against it as you sucked, flicked, nipping at his nipples while casually and savagely choking him.

Looked up at him.

Condescendingly bored.

His hands scrambled for his neck, pulling at your fingers, but you only held on tighter, pushing the limit, and he was shaking his head, his black hair flying, those large eyes rolling in wild helplessness, glistening pink lips parted but making so sound, his feeble cry pinched in its now bloodless cage.

The silver lip rings gleamed in the light.

You ran your tongue over his chest, over red skin and trembling muscle.

Jungkook was getting harder under you. Throbbing, even in the jeans. You didn’t let go, keeping him in suspension of half-breath and half-death. That was because despite his showy performance of resistance, there was no power in his clawing fingers. The strength was in his hips, in his desperate, fervent rutting against your exposed midriff. You still hadn’t taken off your bra top or miniskirt. You let him keep going. Let him feel the velvet of your covered breasts against his hard, flexed abdomen. Let him thrive in the sensual agony. The rough friction was searing, but you did not move away, even pressing back against him.

His chest was tightening, strained scream rattling in his ribcage, trying to get off in vain, but there was too much fabric and not enough stimulation, aching pleasure fringed by the torturous pain of not enough.

You smiled.

“Don’t say you want it and not mean it,” you said, tone without inflection.

You lessened your grip just barely.

Bleeding oxygen flooding into his brain, and Jungkook moaned weakly, disoriented, his black hair sticking to his face, his lips, his cheeks, sweat and spit and tears, gasping, lashes fluttering, picturesque hands with those lovely fingers fanning out, stroking your inescapable grip on his neck. As if he savored the power locking him down. Needed it.

His silvery voice cracked like brilliant glass shards refracting rainbows as they fell.

“P… hah… Ple… Please, noona…”

There was a perverse satisfaction in watching him break.

“I… m-mean it, I w-want you, please… I can’t t-take this… I wa… want to feel you, please…”

You, too, savored his shattering demeanor.

Those large chocolate brown eyes up above pleading sweetly, urgently, watery.

Down below, you grinned with more than a touch of mania.

“Now that is what I want to see.”

You let go of his neck. His shudders travelled through your body as you slid down his, vibrations cutting all the way down to the very bone, sensing his fear and anticipation and that irresistible addiction building. The thrill of something new, something dangerous, something evolving into necessity as you looked into his eyes and Jungkook stared back, bitten pink lips parted in wonder as you slid between his thighs, serpentine, your predatory gaze reflected in his glassy irises. You did not hide your ravenous glee.

You could feel him getting more and more aroused knowing he had awoken something deep inside you.

You gripped the sides of his jeans and extended your tongue.

Threatening.

“N-No, wai–”

What happened next was simple. Almost too simple. But it was the performance that mattered. It was not just about removing his pants, but was about the deliberateness in your force while doing so. It was about your undivided attention directed right at him. It was about the slow, frame-by-frame pace. It was about the tightness of your grip and the harshness of your knuckles digging into his v-line as you slowly, tooth by tooth, dragged down the metal zipper of those classic blue jeans. You let him feel the nick of every tick of metal against his barely clothed erection. Centimeter by centimeter. Hooked your fingers under the waistband and let your fingernails catch on his hips. Jungkook whimpered, rising to his elbows, staring wide-eyed at you, not even realizing the disheveled state of himself. You slowly removed his jeans, tugging down, down, backing up, your sharp manicure periodically catching on his tense thighs, watching the gasp ripple up his red, flexed chest and escape from his throat. Sinful pleasure washing over his features once he realized he was enjoying it.

Perfect.

You let Jungkook watch your expression transform from faint amusement to rapturous satisfaction.

You backed up, tossing his jeans aside.

Knelt in front of his open legs and placed your hands on your lap.

Demure, one over the other.

You smirked.

“Show me.”

You ticked your head to the bulge in his black boxer briefs. Voice like poisoned honey, your words both a command and a dare. His cheeks burning red and there was the faintest tick of annoyance that you silenced with your sharpened gaze. Your smirk subtly morphed into something a little more sinister, a subliminal challenge in this smile. Maybe if he was in his right mind he could refuse, but there was too much adrenaline and too much anticipation.

The promise of payoff was so, so close.

Which was why you got to watch Jeon Jungkook strip his underwear off right in front of your eyes.

Your tongue traced your lower lip, wetting it.

He was now sitting at the very edge of the bed, thick thighs spread wide open, taut tension all over his muscles, and his swollen erection sticking out, the purple-red head leaking and angry, desperately seeking stimulation. And pain. Before he could drop his hand by his side again, you snatched it and stopped him.

Jungkook froze.

Visibly shivering at the contact of you holding his hand.

You stared into his eyes and brought his hand to his crotch, wrapping his fingers around his throbbing cock.

“Wha–”

You violently spat on the veined shaft, splattering saliva all over, and made him stroke himself, just like that. Immediate gasp, his hips bucking, and you spit on him again, slicker and wetter, forcing him to masturbate. He didn’t need much encouragement, already taking over the pace, harder, faster, and you let go, your fingertips running over his slippery knuckles, spreading your saliva all over. Looking up, seeing his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open, shuddering, his moans deeper and lower now, more wanton, on the edge of depravity, not wanting to do it but needing to, too aroused to stop, too turned on to turn back, hyper-aware of the power saturated in this moment.

Jungkook was completely naked in front of your still clothed form, jacking himself off, and every time you spat on him, he whimpered, powerful hips jerking and rattling the hotel bed, the struggle flashing over his torn expression, to enjoy or be ashamed, but his lips were betraying him, more, please, his hand shaking as you made a mess of his thighs and cock, dripping spit, licking the inside of his open legs, his hand pausing with every one of your dramatic flairs.

Edging himself for you.

Your hands rested on his hard thighs, pushing them apart even more, glancing down at this lewd display but mostly observing his face, not letting him escape the pleasurable prison of your attention. You specifically did not verbally degrade him. It was not wanted and there was no need.

The silence itself was palpable humiliation.

His breathing shallowed.

Stuttered.

Chest tightening.

Close.

You leaned forward, hearing him hold his breath.

Suspension.

The harsh slap of hand to skin suddenly stopping.

Your hand clenched around his, abruptly cutting off his high. Squeezing through his grip. The violent throb of blood, and you staring into those large, glistening brown orbs, his rising sob dying in his dry throat. You rose instead, standing over him, keeping your hold around his strained hand. Even under dingy hotel lighting, his tan skin glittered with sweat, those prominent cheekbones framed by curled black strands, and, oh, those quivering flushed lips trying to choke out your name, a plea, anything, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, rendered mute by the deafening silence.

He was falling apart.

It was sublime.

Art was worth the pain.

You raised your other hand and cupped his chin.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, hazy and slow.

He moaned, thin and strung out on desperation, not caring about anything anymore, not knowing if there was an end. Ensnared by the moment. Possessed by compliance. You lowered your head. He obediently opened his lips, and his entire body shook uncontrollably, those lovely eyes rolling back into his head, hurriedly swallowing the stream of spit dripping from your tongue, the tips of your fingers caressing the slippery, pulsing, purple-red head of his cock locked in his grip, and now…

Now, the composition was perfect.

It was mere seconds, but at this point Jungkook didn’t have a good grasp on time anymore. Obscene whimpers, blown-out pupils, hardly registering the sound of the foil packaging ripping open, gasping as you tugged his hand away, his eyelashes fluttering as the ghost of your touch rolled down the condom, and then you hiked your skirt up, flicking down your panties.

They slid down your legs, the mere scrap of fabric soaked through.

Your grasped Jungkook’s right shoulder and now he finally seemed to realize what was happening, his eyes widening, but now it was too late, your heat right above the head, your other hand at the base, one knee on the bed.

“N… Noona…?”

You sank down onto his cock.

It was a slightly awkward position, but lust and adrenaline took over as you slowly, carefully bottomed out, not really for him, but for you to truly enjoy what was about to blossom, clenching around his girth and savoring the aching fullness, spying his pained expression from underneath your lashes. Tightened jaw as the wet sleeve choked him from below, and then the visible wave of ecstasy travelling through his body that manifested merely as a meek groan when you rocked your hips, dragging him into the constricting bliss, riding Jungkook on the edge of the hotel bed.

“W-Wai–oh, fuuuuck…”

You did not wait, hooking your leg over his thigh and leaning your knee against the mattress as you fucked him with some effort, but his body responded immediately, thrusting up and into you, and there it was, the flare within your core, intensity finally meeting matched intensity. Your breath stilling in your chest, leaning forward a little more, driving your hips forward, smack, there, fuck, yes, there, and you could see the angle was affecting Jungkook too, the muscles of his neck tense, lifting himself to his hands, and now he was really fucking you back, giving into the compulsion, hot gasp drifting over your neck, and you looked down to glassy brown eyes and shaking lips, those silver lip rings the inviting garnish, and still you resisted, slamming your hips down, slap, wet and tight and hungry for more, more of the thick cock, gripping his inked shoulder so hard that you were leaving even more marks.

Crescents of pain.

It was unbearably hot in the velvet bra top and your miniskirt bunched around your waist, but there was power in that discomfort. A visible inequality that fed the feral and the fervor, drowning you and him in this visceral, depraved lust, both hunting for the high, your hand rising and his hand rising, hips driven forward, harder.

Your hand around his neck.

His grasping your ass, dragging down and hitting you deeper, softly whimpering as you clenched around him.

“Fuck, yes.”

You exhaled hotly over his lips, letting your satisfaction bloom in the carnage of his pride.

“You…”

Bringing Jungkook’s face close to yours by his throat, losing your own breath with your ferocity, your words a husky rasp as you neared your crescendo.

“Inspire me.”

And then you kissed him.

Lips to inflamed lips, feeling the flash of sparks race all over your skin and burn your insides, faster, a bruising rhythm that Jungkook was leading, whining in your mouth as he came, his hips violently shaking, all the while pressing up against you, that strong hand splayed out over your lower back as he took your breath away. Your hand tightening, taking his blood away, and that was it, succumbing to the addictive power, tension snapping, radiating bliss racing through your veins, the brutal punch of orgasm leaving you airless, moaning deeply into his waiting mouth, your inner walls throbbing and viscous juices seeping down his balls, his thighs, sticking to your crotch.

The stench of summer sex soaked through the sheets, creating a large damp spot down the edge of the hotel bed.

You let go of Jungkook’s shoulder and held his trembling face, deepening the kiss and swallowing his raw whimpers. His pining sounds expanded and fluttered in your chest, so pure and so delicious, and more, you needed more, drunk on his taste, enslaved by this passion.

I’ve outdone myself this time.

You sighed into his mouth.

-

“I hate you.”

Surrounded by used condoms, electric air, and rumpled sheets half-pulled off the hotel bed, Jeon Jungkook gripped your wrist and told you he hated you, breathing hard, laying on his side. Both of you completely naked. You were sitting upright, delicately leaning against pillows and the headboard.

You smiled down at him.

“Oh?”

“W… Why are you… hah, why are you okay and I’m…”

His sweaty black hair was plastered to his forehead.

“Not?” you offered.

Across your body, you felt the bruises of his fingertips and soreness thrumming in your muscles. This network of pain simply curled into the blossom of the afterglow, creating the veining throughout the petals of this satisfying night.

Jungkook’s expression turned from irate to shattered.

You kept your smile but, behind it, hesitancy lurked.

Those dark glass eyes closed beneath you, but he held into your wrist, tattooed fingers squeezing hard.

Breath after breath. Ragged. Injured, but with pleasure. Satisfied, but some part wasn’t. You didn’t have to look into his eyes to know how he was feeling. Bowed, shaking shoulders. Body curling into the sheets, blanket tangled around his legs, the low light of the hotel room casting harsh shadows. He moved closer to you. Holding on for dear life. You could feel the uncontrollable tremors from his hot hand.

“Just…”

His voice so small, cracking under a weight unseen.

“J-Just… just pretend a little… longer…”

Your smile slipped away, like a shadow in the night.

“For me… noona…”

It is the performance that matters.

You looked down at the form of Jeon Jungkook and wondered if you could always be right.

“I’m not pretending,” you said to the flower that had blossomed in your carnage. You reached over and put your hand over his. “This is who I am.”

His fingers relaxed.

You paused.

You looked down again. At Jungkook burying his face into the sheets and the pillows, inhaling the heavy scent of sex that had transpired between you and him, burning it into his memory. Not too close to touch you, but close enough for you to feel the heat from his body, close enough so you couldn’t forget, and his hand was still on your wrist, tenderly caressing the inner tendon. It was a slightly rough touch. Unfamiliar.

For now.

What feeling are you trying to chase?

“Are you obsessed with me or what?” you chuckled, brushing the thought aside.

Stopped.

Jungkook was gazing at you from below. A singular dark brown orb, teary and reflective, the other masked by a tangle of black hair and the white hotel bedding. You had asked the question and the answer was wordless or, rather, simply in that stare alone. Bleeding desire. Helpless passion. Raw want.

You memorized his pained expression.

It was too beautiful not to.

“Would you let me be?”

It was both a rhetorical question and his answer.

Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be a fleeting moment. Supposed to be and, as you kept eye contact, you could feel the fire behind the glass. Some people wanted to watch the world burn, but they didn’t want to hold the match. His hand slipped out of yours and covered your fingers, grasping them tightly, possessively, intensely watching you, burning from your ignited match, burning and asking to be set on fire again, and again, and again, in dark nights and hazy afternoons and early mornings, and your skin prickled under the gaze of Jeon Jungkook, an expression that demanded to be set alight by your flames, for he had dreamed about it for so long and now it was real but you could potentially take it all away and he just wanted you to know…

He couldn’t live without the euphoria of this performance.

Your lips parted to refuse him.

And you couldn’t.

The seconds stretched into minutes. You could be his maker. Rebirthed from the ashes. An artist. You could tell that Jungkook thought very straightforwardly. He did not want to let go, so he didn’t. Simple. It was a pure feeling and it continued even after the first time.

Innocence.

The feeling I’m trying to chase? Ecstasy.

You smirked, sly laughter simmering in your lungs.

“You’re asking for trouble.”

-

“You’ll have to frame me up on your wall to keep me out of trouble.”

You grinned and shoved Jeon Jungkook into the wall, capturing his lips once more. The familiar press of two metal lip rings in this kiss, the familiar tension radiating from the hard muscle beneath you, the familiar impatient hands finding your ass, pushing up the short hem of your miniskirt and sinking into the soft curve. Time and time again, he showed up under you, dragging you to him, insatiable, craving, begging as if he had never had your pain before, shivering from every kiss, never having enough unless he was falling apart from your touch, all of him feeding the predatory compulsion that you had always tried to hide behind one-night stands and planned hit-and-runs.

All of your flaws aligning with this mood of his.

Jungkook slid down the wall, moaning, rolling his hips into your crotch, completely forgetting he was in somebody else’s house and supposed to be celebrating their birthday.

Thankfully, the music was blaring.

Your hand around his neck and you reached down. He was wearing tighter, black pleather pants today.

Ah, art and torture went hand-in-hand.

You gripped his balls through his pants and he whined in your face, trembling all over as his neglected erection strained above your hand. Lips locking, hot bodies pressed together in the semi-darkness, drinking in his thin exhale and his pleas, even reaching down to palm himself as you tortured his balls, squeezing and pulsing your knuckles around him.

“N-Noona, just f-fuck me, please,” was his breathless whimper into your mouth, lustful moans hitching as you choked him harder, and it was too delicious, too demanding, too beautiful was this graphic display of greedy desire.

Art.

How could you walk away?

“Irresistible, my darling,” you murmured to panicked breath, and you dragged him to you, tasting his smile as his tight white shirt was being tugged out of his pants below the entangled kiss, and he breathed you in, his free hand reaching up to your swimsuit top, scooping out your breasts as you controlled the blood flow to his head and undid the zipper with your other hand, peeling the pleather away.

You grabbed his balls, squeezing.

He gripped his hard cock.

Right.

On.

Cue.

He whined and you shoved the hem of his shirt into his mouth, making him bite down onto it and exposing his bare, muscular torso. Those pleas in those glassy brown orbs, long black hair disheveled and all over his face, and you grinned, the moment on fire, electricity racing over your skin as he toyed with your nipples and jacked himself off, him basking in your force and the addiction of being controlled. So picturesque, a work of art, and so you had to make it yours.

You couldn’t get enough of him.

You raked your nails over his ass and down his thigh and his eyes rolled back in his head, his muffled whisper between you and him, drifting in the dark.

“I love the way you hurt me.”

Music to your ears.

“Hurt me more, noona.”

Art required a certain cruelty, after all.

--

masterpost

[peachdues]

HASHIRA PERFUME PREFERENCES

HEADCANONS

A/N: this came from my unhealthy perfume obsession. Don't @ me.

MITSURI KANROJI

Perfume: Killian PARIS Love, Don't Be Shy

Notes: orange blossom, vanilla absolute, luscious marshmallow

Sweet like candy, yet warm like a thousand kitten cuddles. This is the perfume Rihanna wears, and honestly, while I wasn't a fan of it on me, I do love the scent!

KYOJURO RENGOKU

Perfume: Replica's By the Fireplace

Notes: clove oil, chestnut accord, vanilla accord Literally smells like a crackling fireplace and marshmallow. I'm so in love with this fragrance, it's on my rotation in the fall (I have a leather jacket collection so mixing this on them in the cold is MAGIC). Of course I see our flame boy smelling like a literal cozy fireplace and GOD I could bury my nose between his tiddies forever.

SHINOBU KOCHO

Perfume: NEST New York's Wisteria Bleu ♔ Glossier You

I know the Wisteria perfume is a bit on the nose, but given our girl's development of the wisteria poison, it just seemed to fit! Plus this scent is just delightful. Key notes: French wisteria, watery notes, Bulgarian rose, imperial jasmine

That said, I can also see Shinobu as the type to gravitate towards skin scents -- especially as a doctor, she doesn't want to overwhelm anyone's senses, so she prefers scents that are more natural. So I also think she'd be a fan of Glossier You

Notes: pink pepper, abrox, iris

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

We actually know what Sanemi smells like canonically -- matcha tea and ohagi!

So in that spirit, I'm going with Matcha Meditation by Replica

Notes: Bergamot Essence, Matcha Accord, Moss Accord.

BUT there's another scent that I 1000% believe Sanemi would wear in the modern age, and it's super affordable: Dossier's Ambery Saffron

Top notes: saffron, orange blossom ♔ middle notes: jasmine, plum, cedarwood ♔ base: oakmoss, fir balsam, amber

I bought this for myself and loved it, but on my husband??? I go feral for it. It smells so fucking good on him, and it's an instant panty-dropper for me. And since Sanemi is the one 2D character I would happily bend over for, it fits.

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA

Tom Ford’s Ebene Fume

Notes: Palo Santo smoke, stoked by the warm elegance of cistus absolute, enticing black pepper, and notes of ebony wood, captured in sleek, sublime notes of leather.

Diptyque L’eau Papier or Tam Daisy EDT

L’eau papier notes: White musks, Mimosa, Blonde woods accord, Rice steam accord. I mean, tell me this doesn’t SCREAM our favorite Stone Pillar???? 

Tam Daisy EDT: Sandalwood, cedar, cypress, and myrtle 

Again, Gyomei SCREAMS diptqyue ok. So earthy and refined and quiet luxury

UZUI TENGEN

The flashiest Pillar deserves the flashiest cologne — and by “flashy,” I mean in terms of both scent profile AND price.

Obviously he is a Tom Ford whore. 

Most likely cologne: Tom Ford’s Cherry Smoke. This scent is literally described as “hedonistic” and it’s so correct. 

Notes: Cherry Smoke plays with fire, bursting with the scent of dark cherry, ignited by seductive osmanthus and smoldering, smoked woods.

while we’re at it: Tom Ford’s Fucking Fabulous. I mean, it’s in the name. 

Notes: leather, tonka bean, and sage 

tell me this man isn’t the best-smelling Hashira in the Corps I DARE you 

GIYUU TOMIOKA

Okay I feel like this man smells like CITRUS and he’s absolutely delectable. 

So that said — Oyedo by Diptyque 

Notes: yuzu, green tangerine, thyme, and raspberry  I’m sorry this man smells like earthy fruity citrus and you can’t convince me otherwise. There’s also a hint of the aquatic in there, since he’s, y’know, the Water Pillar. And this scent is DIVINE. 

I also see Giyuu having something with ginger as a major note — so that said, Chanel’s Bleu de Chanel

Notes: Citrus Accord, Labdanum, Sandalwood Cedar

MUICHIRO TOKITO

Baby is 14. He does not know fine scents/perfumes that well.

That said, I think he’s going for something lowkey and likely no-fuss (if he wears a scent at all). He’s going to smell like soap and something fresh and clean. 

So I think the safest bet is Bubble Bath by Replica 

Notes: Soap Bubble Accord, Rose Superessence, White Musk, Coconut Milk Accord

Tagging @xxsabitoxx who is a mutual perfume whore like me

[saturn-nite]

"she goes boom!"

- drabble . gojo satoru x afab!reader .

summary: maybe you deserved it, maybe you didn't, but satoru can't resist breaking you down to make you beg

cw: dom!satoru, sub!reader, edging (a lot), a very teasing satoru, brat taming if you squint, dumbification for a bit, satoru being unfair, mentions of cunnilingus + fingering, a sprinkle of degradation (calls reader slut), praise (calls reader a good girl), one (1) daddy used, nicknames (honey, darling, my girl), clit spanking briefly, begging, punishment play ish , slight dacryphilia

a/n: first time writing smut and first time posting on tumblr :")) hope yall like xx [this is a repost]

"You still with me, baby?"

The words, low and teasing, are mumbled into your inner thigh in between playful nips, but the concern is still quietly audible. Shakily, you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking blearily where Satoru has lifted his head up from your core.

It's unfair how beautiful he looks- alabaster strands artfully ruffled from when your hands had clung onto them, blue eyes bright and cheeky, glossy pink lips made even glossier with your arousal.

A sharp tap on your thigh reminds you to focus and you force yourself to rein in your thoughts to focus.

"I asked you a question, honey," Satoru murmurs, tilting his head mockingly. "Don't tell me you're already fucked dumb? I haven't even done anything yet."

Your first instinct is to scoff- liar. He has been doing something- someone, rather- and has been for the past hour in fact. Teasing you with his fingers, tongue, playfully slapping your throbbing clit as his fingers massage your outer folds, their tips skimming your entrance but never pushing deeper to soothe the burning ache in your core to let you cum, playfully dangling you at the edge of release every time before pulling back.

"I- Satoru-"

"Focus," he singsongs, his smirk widening into a grin, slapping your clit in quick succession, causing you to squeak slightly. "You never answered my question, darlin'."

"Mm-" you struggle to rein back your thoughts, still panting and sniffing slightly, remembering his check-in. "I- y-yeah, 'm good."

Satoru hums, gently kissing your inner thigh, a quiet agreement to continue this.

"Good girl," he murmurs, letting his soft side show for just half a second before his smirk's back on his face, eyes half-lidded with mischief, low tones transforming into a growl. "Or well... not. This is a punishment, no? 'S what you get for being a bitchy little brat."

You cry out when he spanks your pussy hard to punctuate his point, a half sob lurching out your throat as you try to close your legs and hide your poor cunt from him, but his hands firmly lock your thighs in place, spread out and wide open just for him.

"S-said I was sorry," you whine.

Satoru chuckles lowly and you can't but clench involuntarily at the sound. "Aw, but brats like you never do mean their apologies, do they? But that's okay," he continues casually, conversationally, hands gliding up and down your thighs, tone turning faintly mocking. "Daddy's just gotta fuck the brat outta ya, hmm?"

You whine. "'toru-"

"Shh..." he cuts in smoothly, clambering on top of you, caging you in, gently raising your hands up to pin them on either side of your head. "Just stay pretty for me, hm?"

His lips meet your own, wet with your arousal and you can't help but moan into the kiss, eager for more as your hips needlessly bounce up to rub against one of Satoru's thighs that had sneakily pressed up against your core. The slight friction makes you dizzy and you whimper, mindlessly rubbing up and down his thigh as the kiss deepens.

"God, you're such a slut, huh?" he chuckles, breaking the kiss. "Can't last two minutes without me touching you down there, can you?"

"Satoru, please-"

"Please what, honey?" he chuckles, mouth moving down to nibble on that sensitive spot on your neck and you keen. To him, you're so cute like this, your walls breaking down from some simple pleasure, tongue-tied from trying to answer a couple of questions. "You gotta be specific."

"'Toru," you gasp. "Just- please."

Satoru clicks his tongue, shaking his head, mock pouting. "Darling, I know you can to better than that... use your words, huh?"

"Satoru-"

He frowns and sits up, releasing your hands. "Hmm? Well, I guess you don't want it that much then-"

"Toru, please-" you grab his wrist, blinking away tears of desperation, trembling. "Please just fuck me, please, need you inside me, wanna feel you-"

"Aww, you're so cute when you're honest," he purrs, leaning in close, right beside your ear.

You screw your eyes up at the feeling of his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Even with your eyes firmly shut, you don't need to imagine to cocky, fox-like smirk on his face, canines ready to devour you.

"But I think my girl can last a bit longer than that, right~?"

[rappaccini]

okay. i've already autopsied tua but a final overview may be in order. i'll do it one more time.

season one was the only good season of umbrella academy. it had issues, but those issues didn't yet compromise the story or the themes. season one had a stylized production, great cast who at that point were still playing their characters instead of themselves, strong story that mostly carried (though there was some filler), and fantastically coherent themes. the cracks in the foundation were always there. but they could have been fixed.

season two was bad, but entertaining enough to hide its flaws. it had a bigger budget, glossier production value, more action, a cool new setting, more Fun Moments, enough momentum from the source material to mostly fill up the season, and the character assassination didn't have time to reach its consequences yet so everyone acting like the fandomified version of themselves worked for the people who were just here for the fun. it also dropped in the summer of 2020, when people were desperate for escapist entertainment, and there was little superhero fare to compete with (and when the protests happening that summer had people wanting to Say Something about civil rights without actually wanting to change anything). the bar was lower, and season 2 cleared it. but season 2's story broke. look back at the actual story, and you'll see it.

season three was bad, and not entertaining enough to hide its flaws. it had some interesting ideas and good moments, but the whole thing was a slog. the pacing was terrible, the character assassination couldn't be denied anymore, and the momentum from the comics ran out and left the writers to their own devices, which revealed they had no plan, no substantive creative backbone, and no understanding of what they were making. season three could have saved the show with a hail mary of tight writing to pick up the slack, but quadrupled down on the problems and guaranteed it was past the point of no return.

season four was terrible. somehow with a reduced episode count it still dragged, every single character has no growth, the basic logic of the story is missing and the continuity is a mess. and ending the story about abuse victims trying to heal on them concluding that they should all just kill themselves makes the story both pointless and rotten. at this point it was a given. you can't recover from two bad seasons back to back. season two shot the show in the gut, season three let it bleed out instead of healing it, and season four kicked its corpse a few times for a couple klaus jokes, then confirmed that its very existence was a mistake. very meta.

so. what were the cracks in the foundation.

the lack of respect for the source material. as soon as they tried a plot that had no connection to the original comics, they were fucked. but even before season four, they were all over the place. in fact they still haven't adapted most of the comics. john perseus, calhoun, deever, dr terminal, the academy at war with each other in the 1960s, the actual purpose of hotel oblivion, the chimpanzees everywhere, the 1980s period setting, clarissa and oscar, the coming of the squid monster, carla the sparrow, grace having her own secret agenda, the actual character of jennifer? just not here. even the raygun gothic aesthetic is watered down and eventually barely even present.

the spinelessness of the creative team. as early as season 2, they were throwing character arcs and themes in the trash to beg the fans to love them. they had no plan and just wanted cheap thrills.

the lack of internal rules. the time travel mechanics don't make sense. viktor's powers just do whatever. lila's powers eventually just do whatever. the central reveal that vanya's medication had been repressing her powers, set up by klaus using drugs to do the same, is undone by season 2's climax revolving around vanya somehow using her powers despite being drugged. the 'marigold' reveal about their powers makes no sense (why does luther get his body back? we don't know.). there are no stakes with no clear world limitations.

the good victim bad victiming. as early as season 1, the show was arguing that harold jenkins is irredeemable for killing his abusive dad. that should've been your first warning that they were going to try to redeem reginald and have the academy basically kill themselves in the end.

the lack of continuity. as early as season 1, the writers forgot number five had a time travel briefcase sitting in the library, or that helen cho's body was in harold's house when he, allison and diego search it. then they forget when luther got disfigured in season 2. then they forgot how the powers work. then they forget literally everything about the story.

the racism. all the characters of color get the worst plotlines in season 1. allison loses her narrative in season 2 and gets it replaced with a civil rights plotline that concludes that 'hey, there's a black president someday!' diego and lila prance through the jim crow south without dealing with segregation as allison is hatecrimed every episode.

the sexism. look back at how all the female characters are treated. look back at how allison's mistreatment of patrick and claire is glossed over, and lila fully gets away with manipulating diego. look at how vanya's 'redemption' is all about finding maternal instincts she never had until season 2. look at how allison's assault of luther is dismissed the way it never would have been if the genders were swapped. look at how sloane is juxtaposed against allison.

the homophobia. the queer characters were either stereotyped or used as glaad award bait. the queerbait of ben and klaus's entire dynamic.

the ableism. in the comics, luther has mobility aids and his disfigurement is treated like a debilitating condition, not a punchline. his eating disorder isn't mocked. vanya's in a wheelchair after she's shot and goes through months of physical therapy and is still never the same. allison is an amputee. diego has one eye and severe ptsd. everyone's mental illness is taken seriously, including and especially klaus's addiction. in the show these elements are downplayed, absent or fuel for quirky moments.

the show is full of filler. the murder mystery plot, the meritech plot, allison following leonard around, the day that was/wasn’t…. even in season 1, there wasn't enough material to make ten episodes. there was never enough for a ten episode run for any season. and yet somehow the one season with the right runtime still drags.

the spectacle. in season 2 they fully lean into it over substance. case in point: the dance sequence.

actually i'll go into that in detail because the dance sequence sums up the whole show and its downfall.

in season one, the pilot's iconic i-think-we're-alone-now dance sequence was an emotional moment that symbolized how all the characters feel isolated and disconnected from each other, but are secretly interconnected and far more in sync than they realize. the song was catchy, but "i think we're alone now" is literally a commentary on the story it's playing over: now that the academy's abuser is dead, they can finally unwind and love each other, and they can fix their problems by literally "running as fast as they can, holding onto one another's hands." -- and how does the season end? by them doing just that.

in season two, allison, klaus and vanya's salon dance is meaningless because vanya has no clue who these people are, klaus has never given a shit about vanya before (watch season one. he doesn't care.), and allison should hate her at this point in the story. it's just there for fun... but if you swapped vanya with ben it would work as a joyful reunion between these three people. the concept of the dance is fine, but the decision to make it a fanservice moment throws it off.

in season three, the dance sequence comes out of nowhere as a ~wacky random fun moment~ to call back to the first season. the footloose song has nothing to do with the story, it's just fun and catchy. there is no substance to the spectacle anymore. it's just dumb fun.

and season four ends in 'i think we're alone now' for no reason other than to ask the viewer to remember when the show was good. no fun, just dumb.

... let's look back at the themes season one sets up.

the road to recovery takes a very long time, and you will fall off it and have to climb back on.

corporations don’t have your back. they’re soulless and they want to suck the life out of you.

abuse does not make nice people. abuse does not make happy people. there are no good victims or bad victims. (except leonard, i guess.)

it’s difficult to tell where programming stops and free will starts; toxic behavior begets toxic behavior, and we have to own up to it, stop it, and resolve to be better.

redemption is possible. the bad things you did in the past don’t define your future.

you're better together than apart. 

time. changes. everything. it isn’t too late to have the life and the love you wanted. it isn’t too late to realize your talents, or become a better person, or free yourself from a bad situation. it isn’t too late to get together, or to make up or to change your mind. there are no lost causes. the world is worth saving. your enemies are worth showing mercy to. your relationships and friendships and broken families can be salvaged and reshaped into something new and better.

things are fucked, but if we give it everything we have, we can save it, and it’s worth taking up that fight, because nothing is set in stone.

fuck it, be happy. 

remember those?

i'm gonna get into it character by character:

luther.

his entire plotline was meant to be about realizing he was abused, disavowing his abuser and finding his confidence to become the leader he never got to be and go after the love he lost with allison and make a family with her and claire. that was his starting point.

and the fandom hated him rabidly. they said he was just as bad as his father, insisted that he had no redeemable qualities, made fun of his body and his traumas, took the situation with vanya and removed all the moral grays to call him evil over it, and insisted that he was Somehow Abusing Allison.

in season 2, luther has conveniently disowned and confronted reginald offscreen before the plot starts.

he immediately apologizes to vanya, who is an amnesiac and can't actually hold him accountable for hurting her, and the situation is never mentioned again.

his body dysmorphia is played for laughs.

his intelligence and leadership qualities are gone and he's just a bumbling idiot. remember when luther was an astronaut who effectively kept up a faulty space station for four years on his own? could you believe this dumbass was that guy?

he's a punching bag for the fans who hated him.

and season 3 seals the deal. he's still an idiot, he's still hideous.

his romance with allison is destroyed as offensively as possible to reassure the fans who hated alluther.

his romance with sloane is a clumsy attempt to keep the payoff he and allison should have had into the story as they're placating the fans who hate them.

and in season 4, he's... a stripper. he never finds a way to love his body, he just conveniently doesn't have it anymore, and he's still treated like a joke for it.

he never meaningfully takes command of the academy, he just stops trying to.

the wife season 3 insists he loves so much is gone and he doesn't give a shit.

he never even confronts allison for assaulting him, or reconciles with her and has a significant relationship with claire.

he decides to just die.

his entire character trajectory was aborted after only one season. he spent 75% of the runtime with nothing to do, because the fandom hated him and the writers were too cowardly to follow through with his character.

diego.

his entire plotline was meant to be about letting go of his aggression issues by finding his place in the family, reforming his rivalry with luther into a deep friendship based on mutual support and unpacking his 30 year history with vanya in order to finally be happy and in love with her after facilitating her redemption.

and his character's arc is dependent on others....

so in season 2 when luther's arc was canned, so was diego's journey towards letting go of his ego and finding a way to support luther after spending his whole life being pitting against him.

in season 2, when allison's arc was canned, diego ended up with the commission / jfk assassination plot that was never meant to be his. his entire dynamic with number five was hers.

in season 2, because klaus took his vietnam plot in season 1, diego doesn't have one anymore, so there's no way to meaningfully unpack how he feels like his only purpose is violence. instead, his anger issues are totally ignored.

and in season 2, when vanya was split into elliot-page-playing-himself and lila, the romance went out the window too. yes, diego falls in love with lila, but he barely knows her, and all she's done is manipulate, drug, kidnap and hurt him and the academy... yet all that bad behavior is totally ignored in the Show About Abuse And Trauma, because they have chemistry. there's no deep, complex history between them that could have anchored the relationship. the redemption arc itself is rushed and undeserved.

oh, also, he doesn't feel upset about eudora anymore. never mentions how he got her killed, or that he loved her.

then in season 3, diego has nowhere to go but deeper into his romance arc. he has no tension with luther to resolve (and with the show assassinating alluther, there's no 'we both love our girlfriends and want to make it home to tell them that, so let's get over our bullshit and help each other get there' revelation like in the comics). his relationship with lila gets even weirder, with her... deciding to babytrap him, getting a kid killed in the process, and it being framed as quirky and hot. and no eudora again.

and in season 4, diego is a family man who doesn't give a shit when his kids are wiped from existence, whose marriage is about to implode. who decides to just die.

there's just... nothing. he's just himbo #2.

allison.

her entire plotline was meant to be about realizing how culpable she is in the abuse of her family, unlearning those manipulative tendencies and figuring out how to exist authentically, making amends with the people she hurt-- especially vanya and her ex-husband and daughter-- and restarting her life with someone she can love: luther.

allison isn't formally character assassinated until season 3, but she was wrong from the start.

because in season 1, they had her be already past all those things in the pilot episode because they're too sexist to let women be messy. allison is conveniently totally in control of her behavior and has already decided not to use her rumor anymore. she already accepts responsibility for hurting her ex and daughter.

and the writers refused to let her and vanya be angry at each other because ~we don't believe in girl hate~. leading to allison forgiving her for slitting her throat and leaving her to die.

in season 2, the writers wouldn't give her the commission plotline from the comics. allison was the protagonist of the dallas arc, who had a complex story about being willing to alienate her loved ones in order to save them, being ruthless enough to belong at the commission, making deals with the devil to get her powers back and save her the academy.... and unknowingly creating a paradox where she is responsible for the traumatizing incident of watching someone be killed when she was a girl.

instead, allison is saddled with a c-plot about how you have to be nice when you protest, and how fighting back violently against the racist who tried to literally hatecrime you yesterday makes you just as bad as him. rewatch that scene. look at how it’s framed. that’s the takeaway.

and throughout allison's time in dallas, none of the academy check in with her on how she's doing. no one cares. even when she was attacked at a protest they all know she was at, no one asks her if she's okay.

instead of showcasing allison's ruthlessness and dedication to her family, we meet her having conveniently moved on after her daughter was killed, happily settled into dallas with a new relationship, and having given up on ever finding a way home.

instead of showing allison learn to adapt to life without her rumor, we meet her having already figured out how to get a job, make friends, and have a relationship without it. she doesn’t even have to find the courage to join the activists because she did already.

instead of allison learning how to live without a physical voice, she can just talk again. her power's just... back.

instead of allison being rightfully furious at vanya for disabling her, depowering her, stranding her alone in the jim crow south for years, and killing her child... she instantly forgives her. dance party! no girl hate here!

her romance with luther is intact, but the writers know you hate it, so they're trying to please you by giving her a romance with a man who she doesn't trust with any information about her, who doesn't trust her, and who allison doesn't hesitate to abandon five days after luther shows up. but hey they have chemistry, so they were Truly In Love, apparently. no seriously, the raymond romance is bad.

season 3 tries to do the heavy lifting with the messier aspects of allison, but this happens too late, and it mostly functions as a way to assassinate her character to turn her into an angry black woman stereotype so they can kill her romance with luther as meanly as possible, and set sloane up to take her place.

she suddenly cares that her daughter is dead and that viktor technically killed her after an entire season of not caring. and her decision to alienate the academy to save her rings false because she spent two years not caring. why now.

her romance with luther implodes when the writers decide to just do what the fandom wants and make it Toxic All Along, after two seasons of framing it in the most positive light possible. and allison sits front row at his wedding to a woman he barely knows, smiling through it like that wasn't supposed to be her, or like she didn't just assault him.

because viktor and allison have had such an artificially nice relationship, there's no payoff to them learning to love each other again, like viktor encouraging the group to sympathize with allison afterher betrayal.

the effect of this is that at the end of season 3, allison has regressed into the person she was before season 1, but do you even want to see her get better or get along with the academy after she tried to assault luther, killed viktor's stepson, and sold everyone down the river to live in a fantasy world?

good news! all that doesn't matter in season 4! luther and viktor never confront allison for doing that to them. the whole family's over her betraying them. raymond? oh, he's just gone. yeah, he left between seasons. we won't even unpack the implications, or that allison's right back to being a divorcee whose husband abandoned her after learning what she did with her rumor, trying to live without that power. oh and don't worry, she isn't dependent on her power anymore. yeah, we just solved that offscreen again.

claire's here, but is there even a point.

allison and klaus's relationship is intact, but because the show won't seriously examine klaus's addiction, we can't discuss how they enable each other, or how allison's manipulative tendencies or klaus's flightiness and addiction might be affecting claire. no more intergenerational trauma discussion here.

allison has nothing to do because slowly learning how to admit how much harm she inflicted on her loved ones, live without her power, and earn vanya/viktor's trust back was her arc and it's... all over the fucking place.

then, she decides to just die.

klaus.

his entire plotline was meant to be about realizing how much damage his addiction has done to himself and his family, getting clean and conquering the crippling fear of his power that made him an addict in the first place.

then in season 2, he's clean offscreen. no exploration of klaus trying to stay on the wagon for the first time in decades. we're just three years into him being totally fine sober. no complications.

and his relapse is played for laughs instead of treated like a devastating moment.

in season 2, his grief over dave is glossed over. yes, we see dave for five minutes, which is more than the three minutes he got in season 1, but klaus is Moved On Already. no discussion of what this relationship meant to him (... or how ben was affected, being the third wheel). no rumination. just a quick 'here's dave to shut the fans up' and on we go.

in season 2, klaus's excitement about exploring his powers' potential is gone already. yeah, he figured them out offscreen.

his cult plotline replaces his comics story of being a clubkeeper in vietnam and becoming a father (yes, klaus has a baby in vietnam), and the entire plotline is a mean-spirited metanarrative about how dumb the writers think his fangirls are. like. fucking look at the narrative. they're making fun of you.

and yet there are no serious consequences to the implications of klaus immediately turning into his dad the second he gets a little power. he isolated a bunch of people from the outside world, derailed their lives, tattooed them, got them hooked on the idea that The End Is Nigh and Only He Can Save Them, got them to have sex with him, and only stopped manipulating them because he was bored. not even because he realized it was wrong.

his relationship with ben is queerbaited to hell, and has no resolution.

he spends the entire season deliberately keeping ben isolated from the rest of the academy, and this is never meaningfully examined. klaus is an absolute bastard in season 2, and the writers don't acknowledge it.

by season 3, he's just a joke machine and a flamboyant stereotype. he never has a substantive interaction with sparrow ben, or struggles with his sobriety or his addiction in a way that takes it seriously. even his meeting with his mother feels empty.

and in season 4, the mothers of agony plotline from the comics is so disjointed that it's meaningless. in the comics, this is his lowest low, that ben helps him come back from.

any depth to the implications of his immortality is gone. it's just funny that he's a germophobe.

(... immortality? how'd he get killed in the first season apocalypse timeline then. no answer? okay.)

any potential in his relationship with allison and claire is gone.

like luther, his crucial development is skipped over and he spends half the season wandering in circles making jokes.

and he decides to just die.

five.

his entire plotline was meant to be about learning to trust the academy and work within them as a team member rather than running off and doing his own thing. and about slowly learning to be a person instead of a vehicle for the mission.

in season 2, he inexplicably lets the commission go and trusts they're Good Now thanks to new management, after making it clear in season 1 that he can't ever trust them.

in season 2, his antipathy with vanya is transferred to lila. he never accepts responsibility for his role in leading to her isolation.

in season 2, instead of trying to get the family together, he's still working on his own.

in season 3, instead of riding hard for viktor and sympathizing with him, he calmly tells him he'll put him down if he ever steps out of line again and ignores him the rest of the time.

for three straight seasons, he's the plot driver. but three seasons in with no other characters having a coherent arc, the plot driver became all he was. he couldn't slow down or have an emotional moment because he's the only thing moving things forward and all the people who can bring out those emotions are so ooc that it won't work.

then in season 4... oh boy.

he's not the plot driver anymore because there's no plot.

five slowly trying to embrace domesticity could have been interesting... but boy does it fall flat.

five created the commission! no, we won't discuss the nature of him being responsible for his own abuse, or perpetuating the cycle that led to the apocalypse and the academy's misery.

five falls in love... with his brother's wife, who he hates, who hates him because he hog-tied and tortured her parents to death in front of her when she was a little girl. okay.

then he decides to just die.

ben

his entire presence in the story was building to a reveal that he's only staying with klaus because he's in love with him.

in season 2 they queerbait that connection for ten episodes by framing him as a literally possessive boyfriend, give him a 'love interest' in jill that makes no sense, kill him off in a scene that makes no sense because that's not how their powers work, and have the vaguest 'by the way he was in love with you' reveal via vanya that feels like an afterthought.

klaus keeps ben from talking to anyone in the academy for the whole season for no reason. he never mentions why, ben never gets mad at him. there are no emotional consequences. ben spent an entire season able to talk to the academy and inform the world and nothing ever comes of this.

in season 3, ben's a totally different character. none of the umbrella academy have emotional reactions to seeing him alive.

not even klaus.

and he feels nothing for them.

he also feels nothing for the sparrows, who drop like flies around him without him giving a shit.

in season 4 he's a completely different character again.

no interest in reuniting with his sparrow academy mates, or the umbrella academy.

he's a crypto bro for some reason.

the south korea subway ending stinger? idk where that went.

the show does use the comics' likely endgame of ben being the portal through which the final antagonist arrives. but they do it in such a strange, meaningless way.

the romance with jennifer comes out of nowhere and makes no sense. it's unclear why he'd want to become a blob with her. there's no emotion anchoring this plot.

also, jennifer was a large, dark-skinned black woman in the comics and... isn't here. (it's also unclear if jennifer was romantically involved with ben in the comics, or if she might have been one of the kid's mothers. so uh. we'll see how that ends up.)

his tentacles come out of his back sometimes. huh?

the reveal that he was killed by their father and they were all brainwashed makes no sense. especially given that allison has brainwashing powers that are never used to cover this up.

there's never a meaningful payoff for ben as a character.

and vanya/viktor…

to start, seasons 1-2 will call her vanya because that's how the character was written, performed and received. seasons 3-4 will refer to him as viktor. that's why the name/pronouns switch back and forth in this post. those are two different characters.

alright i'm gonna say it: the show basically killed off vanya at the start of s2 and split her into two characters: lila, who's the white violin from the comics-- and has vanya's style, punk musicianship, romance with diego, mutual hate with five, alliance with the commission, status as the most powerful character, and role as the antagonist who needs a redemption arc that rejoins her with the family-- …. and the character that would become viktor, who's just elliot page playing a flattened version of himself for token queer points.

the show literally got rid of its main character one season in, sped past all the conflict with the academy to the part where they're all besties again, and gave all the interesting shit to an oc. and they did it because they cared more about profiting off of elliot page's queerness than trusting him to do his job as a professional actor, and supporting that performance in the face of a fandom that only saw him for his sexuality/gender identity.

season 2 skips over vanya learning to use her power and lose her fear of it. she's just good at it now. also, the character will never use the violin to channel her powers again, and will never again acknowledge her love of music, because elliot page didn't like playing the violin. like, sir. what are you doing playing a character called 'the white violin' then.

season 2 skips over her rage and hatred of the academy. instead of being afraid of them, avoiding them, and being hostile whenever they interact, she's instantly cool with them, dismisses their years of mistreatment and dismissal, and is part of the family with no friction despite trying to kill them, blowing up the world, and killing their niece.

season 2 totally resets her personality. amnesia! she's nice again! we know you hated her when she was angry, so don't worry about that!

season 2 gives her a romance with someone who she has chemistry with, but who fundamentally doesn't understand her. the entire relationship is just fanservice. remember the lesbian vanya truthers who thought elliot page could only play characters who were lesbians because he identified as a lesbian at the time? remember their "give vanya a girlfriend" whining? this entire plotline was for them.

season 2 hands the moment where the academy understands vanya and empathizes with her in a moment of superpower meltdown.... to harlan.

in season 3, diet elliot page just becomes overt. it's great that page's transition was incorporated into the show at his request, and at this point the damage to the character's so massive that at least they're being honest about the character just being a different entity from vanya entirely. like, fuck it. you already gave all of vanya's character to the oc. might as well.

though it's great that the transition is quickly incorporated into the story, it happens so quickly that a very easy plotline for viktor in s3 is just rushed past. he has so little to do, the transition is such an obvious fix, and they just... don't do it.

because viktor magically has full control of his powers, there's no more growth from him. and at this point his powers just do whatever. who even knows what his abilities are. the show sure doesn't.

viktor is a beloved member of the academy with no friction whatsoever, even though they're trapped in an alternate dimension because of him

allison's anger at him is demonized instead of deconstructed.

the harlan plotline certainly exists. very funny that the show casually reveals that vissy ruined sissy's life and never goes into the emotional consequences of this.

in season 4... yeah this character has nothing to do. he never expresses anger at allison over killing his stepson. his powers are even more vague. he's in canada for some reason, just to complete the transformation into elliot page.

then he decides to just die.

the main character of the story was essentially killed off one season in. the whole thing became adrift because without vanya, there's no main character anymore. no central antagonist with history with the academy, no emotional weight to their connection, no payoff to a slow redemption arc that unfolds over multiple seasons. just shenanigans.

lila

took over the vanya storyline in season 2.

lila is vanya from the comics.

vanya's hatred of the umbrella academy and antagonism towards them? it's now lila's.

vanya's alliance with the commission to destroy the world? nope. lila's the commission's ally now.

vanya's status as the most powerful character? now it's lila.

vanya and five's mutual hate? now belongs to lila and five. even the fiveya vibe rubberbanded into That in season 4.

vanya's slow redemption from a hateful villain of the academy into one of its most crucial members is handed to lila. who barely knows these people, has only ever hurt them, and yet is treated with more empathy with them after three days than vanya received in thirty years.

vanya being set up as the character who'll save the umbrellas from the sparrows? nope, that's lila now.

vanya's romance with diego? that's lila's now. no, it doesn't make sense but they have chemistry.

then in season 3... oh god. instead of unpacking lila's severe mommy issues from being abused by the handler, she's just over them now.

the academy immediately trust and embrace her even though all she's ever done is hurt them.

and for some reason, this character who's shown no maternal instincts randomly decides she wants to be a mom because her one night stand with diego, who she knew for a few days, got her pregnant.

and she tries to convince him a little white boy is their kid to test if he'll be a good father and doesn't give a shit when that child turns to dust. what are we doing here.

then in season 4, their romance doesn't even mean anything. neither does their family. they're already on the verge of a divorce. which... yeah, follows, given what their romance actually consisted of.

then she hooks up with number five, who killed her family in front of her when she was a girl. what.

.... and then we die.

the whole thing came apart in season 2. you just didn't notice yet.

and here's where i get cunty and set aside my belief that writers have an inherent responsibility to never kowtow to their fans no matter what, because the fandom is a big part of how things went wrong, and someone has to talk about it.

the umbrella academy begun as a complex metaphor for recovering from abuse, using superheroes in a gothic-adjacent setting. every single character's power is allegorical of an attribute one may take on from living in an abusive home. (and part of the missed potential in lila is the failure to fit her into that metaphor too). and the metaphor is literally in the name: the umbrella academy.

it's an academy. not a family. the characters are only adoptive siblings because reginald needed a legal way to bind them to him. they grew up in a twisted boarding school, which they explain again and again, and call each other siblings out of habit, which they also explain. and they are choosing as adults to overcome the trauma that pitted them against each other to become a found family.

... i'm gonna say it. the pseudoincest is a vital part of the story, the same way it is in the comics. that was how they were going to love each other. their ability to love each other was the sign that the brainwashing failed, and the found family was, like actual found families, going to involve some of those people pairing off romantically. allison and luther. ben and klaus. vanya and diego-or-five. that was the story.

the umbrella academy is both a giant metaphor for healing from a dysfunctional family, and for finding a queer found family (... it's the umbrella academy. that's the part of the allegory that's still unfulfilled. everyone in this story is queercoded, not just klaus and vanya/viktor. the show massively dropped the ball in not exploring this deeper.) and the fandom screamed, whined and harassed their way into having it scribbled out of the story, and the writers were cowardly enough to do it for you. if you're wondering why they kept trying to sneak alluther in through the back in season 2, still had a harcest couple get married in season 3, and pivoted to shipping lila so hard, that's why. it's the most important thing about the story, and you hated it. is it any shock that the story ends with all their relationships stunted, and no love between them.

remember all those themes from season 1? remember how you guys hated them? remember how you concluded that luther is an irredeemable monster, and klaus is an innocent little baby, and vanya is somehow both and neither? remember how you were completely uninterested in watching everyone redeem themselves, and wanted to skip to the Fun Sibling Moments? remember how you immediately dismissed half the characters as lost causes, and directly demanded that the writers not let the characters love each other? congrats, the writers were listening!

the umbrella academy comic is meant for adults. the show was made for a wider audience and the writers were totally unprepared for the fandom of antifan teens they got. and they overhauled the show to make it what that fandom wanted. more fun, less substance. making luther a bumbling idiot and sidestepping his entire arc. making diego a himbo. skipping allison's complexities until it's time to demonize her for them. making klaus into the cartoon version of himself. making vanya into diet elliot page and handing all her storylines to a new character. dismantling the show's core tone to make it a fanservice carnival. creating vissy, allmond and dielila in the first place, and coining the ship names before the fandom even chose them. making alluther toxic all along, and swapping her out with a white-passing replacement. it was all for you.

then when they ended the show, they flipped off the fandom on the way out. of course it was going to end like that. you spent five years playing oppression olympics, making bigotry self-righteous, and declaring you didn't want a transformative ending for these characters. the writers gave the fandom the hopeless, nihilistic, meandering, substanceless, nonsensical ending it was demanding all along.

so. where do we go from here.

first of all, to ao3, for those of you who haven't moved on.

next, to the comics. assuming way ever wants to finish them, now that he's received an overwhelming message that the audience for his story hates it and prefers the bastardized versions of his characters. i get the sense he'll probably leave it unfinished. i don't blame him.

then... the umbrella academy was a massive success. it's going to get a reboot someday. in 10-15 years, we're gonna get it back. my hope is that

whoever has that responsibility has a clear vision and the talent to pull it off, the backbone to stick with it, and more loyalty to the source material. no subverting expectations for the hell of it. no kowtowing to antifandom. make a plan and stick to it and have confidence in it. hopefully, the next showrunner won't be a terrible person.

the next version of tua will be mature. so the adults who will watch will hopefully be old enough to understand what they're seeing. this truly isn't a show for kids. the fandom has proven that. let's not do it again.

that it'll be animated. the incredible visual aesthetic of the show and its edgier elements could never have been captured in live-action. and now that adult animation's starting to arrive, including on netflix, maybe in a decade or two we'll finally get the umbrella academy fully realized.

anyway. that's my piece.

[losing-it-lately]

Pretty when I cry by Camila Cabello for TASM!Peter Parker.

Or

Birds of a feather by Billie Eilish for TASM!Peter Parker.

Pretty When I Cry

wc: 0.8k

tasm!peter parker x reader

this is a bit angsty so beware!

You look good, really good. In the way that Peter doesn't know what he should be doing anymore. Makeup smudged all around your eyes, a shiny dress of some kind and the most beautiful clear tears adorn your cheeks like small crystals. You always get sad when you're drunk, and he always takes you home when you're drunk.

Peter hates clubs. He always has. When he was younger, he couldn’t stand places with too much noise or too many people or too many random stains, and all of his dislikes increased abundantly after he got bit. It’s been so many years and Peter still hates clubs, he can’t fathom why anybody would ever willingly spend their Friday night in one. But, ever since you both turned old enough to frequent one, you would bring him there and he would look after you. And without a doubt, every Friday since he broke your heart, Peter continues to lurk in the club near your apartment and watch over you.

Yes, your friends can look after you, and it’s dingy and dirty and downright disgusting, but you’re there too. Every Friday, you’re there, so every Friday, Peter will be there too with a watchful eye.

You were Peter’s classmate, then the cute girl who found out about his double life, and then his girlfriend. You both had grown up together. Your first drink was a shot shared with Peter; it was sour and caused a visceral reaction, and that night, he gently lay you in your bed after the alcohol had suspended you in a drunken stupor. Peter promised you that night that he would be there for every drunken evening, and he hadn't yet broken that promise.

Every Friday, you would dress up in your finest party outfit, anything that you could scrummage from anywhere to try to get your mind off the love of your life's swift abandonment. And you knew you were doing something right, because without a doubt, Peter would end up taking off your shoes and draping warm blankets over your tired body. The liver damage was worth the potential undoing of the damage that Peter inflicted on your heart.

Your arms begin to drop more when you dance; Peter knows your tells and he can see that you are exhausted from the hours of dancing and drinking. He looks so out of place, in a dark hoodie with some darker jeans to let him blend into the background; he must be naive if he thinks you don’t notice him even in the dark. Peter shoves through people. He’s going to take you home: seat you in his car, play your favourite music and hold the back of your seat to pretend that he is holding your hand and resting alongside you. You both participate in this routine every week like clockwork. He picks you up out of the crowd and drives you back to your place, he helps you get unready and takes off your makeup and whispers whatever he wishes he could say when you’re sober, and then he breaks off completely and leaves you alone in your apartment without a note or a message or any indication that he still cares.

But today, something feels different, you’re completely silent in the car. No humming or mumbling or even moving, something has washed over you. Your eyes are even glossier than usual, a telltale sign of an incoming sob- but you’re still dead quiet. “Hey, are you ok?” Hif voice is soft and it floats around you like music.

“Why did you leave me,” in the lowest whisper you can muster up. If Peter’s car was any older and louder, he wouldn’t have been able to hear that question, and for a fourth time, he feels his heart shatter.

How can he properly explain to you all of the guilty nights, knowing that you were in danger. There were a myriad of villains who hated him enough to try to find you, to try to hurt you, and everyday that you loved him felt like another death sentence. So he ended it. Looking after you from afar was still looking after you, and even if it felt like a prison of his own making, he was keeping the promise he made you. Maybe it was selfish, but he hadn't taken the time to consider how horrible you felt too. “Just… you keep coming back, and I keep wanting you to come back, but then you leave again.”

Your voice seems so small now in comparison to how much space and attention you try to take up on the dance floor. And you look so pretty, then and now, even with your mascara making trails down your cheeks and your lipstick smudged and your tears wet. “I’m sorry,” is all he can muster up.

“Just take me home.” You turn to the window and watch whatever drives by. Next week and the weeks after that, Peter won't be there, and eventually you will stop frequenting that club. But he won't stop taking care of you, even if you don't know and you don't stop missing him, not until he comes home to you.

[toomuchracket]

that picture is giving dad!matty in literally any of the au’s. like imagine girlie went out for the day with a few friends and left matty alone with the kid(s) and when she got home he was just PASSED OUT on the couch (and maybe there’s a baby or two on his chest as well)

dad!matty for real, he's been playing tea parties and dress up and watching old barbie animated movies for HOURS with dylan and elena and baby phoebe - when you get home (ever so slightly tipsy after bottomless brunch i fear), the older two are calmly playing barbies on the living room floor, and you join them and talk about your respective days while matty and phoebe (on his chest, like you said) having a snoring contest on the sofa lol. all of the girls are in their princess dress, and matty is COVERED in makeup - you hope to god it's the claire's stuff and not your glossier, which dylan has been eyeing up recently - and glitter; he looks so cute, actually, and when you shuffle over to him to wake him up (you and the girls were like "it's very peaceful but actually maybe we should wake daddy up. we're hungry" lol) you notice he has sparkly purple nail polish on too. maybe it's the 4 french martinis you had, but you actually get a bit emosh looking at him like that. like, he loves your daughters SO much, he'll do anything with and for them, and just like... yeah, you fell in love with the right person all those years ago. and also it's really fun getting to take the makeup off him later and forcibly give him a skincare routine while he grumbles at you but simultaneously looks at you like you hung the moon - just like old times, back in the flat. so cute <3

[n-agiz]

KINKTOBER '23ㅤDAY 14 [ GOJO SATORU X MUTUAL MASTURBATION ] cws mutual masturbation ! MDNI

it all started when you caught satoru masturbating. he was laying in your shared bed, legs spread open and one hand fisting his cock while the other held up his phone where some cheesy porn played. as soon as he realized he had been caught, he came, and although he felt shameful over it, the warm cum dribbling down his fingers almost feeling as if it was burning him, he still invited you to join him — that being the first time you two played with one another.

satoru loved how your hands looked wrapped around his dick, how you would sometimes stroke his length while playing with his balls, going at the exact pace you knew made him whine your name while bucking up his hips, craving more of your touch, always showing just how impatient he truly was, never fully satisfied with anything you gave him. he would ask you to go faster, his thighs tensing and parting wider all while he got more breathless by the second, the way his back would arch forward and his cheeks would turn a pretty shade of pink when he came down your fingers making you moan his name louder — especially because even if you were focused on him, and he was feeling ever so overwhelmed by his own orgasm, satoru still wouldn’t forget that he too was trying to bring you to one. while you touched him, he would have two fingers stuffed in your cunt, your slick leaving them glistening and your walls clenching around them anytime he reached into that soft spot inside your pussy that made your eyes roll backwards and your legs close up around his wrist. satoru loved seeing you like that, trying to focus on both things without letting your lust take over your mind completely, wanting to seek your own high while still wanting to make sure your boyfriend reached his. it was cute, he had to admit, and it only fueled him, the moment he noticed your eyes growing glossier and your stroking around his dick losing a bit of rhythm being when he knew you were close — so he would move his fingers in and out of you faster, using his thumb to play with your clit and even starting to help you by fucking up into your hand, his favorite thing being the times you two were able to make each other cum at almost the same exact time.

N-AGIZ '23ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[nitrateglow]

I rewatched the 1941 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde tonight-- and I ended up really liking it. For years, I have disliked this movie mainly due to how MGM tried suppressing the 1931 Frederic March version to promote their glossier remake. However, I must have been more chill tonight, because I really enjoyed it. It's not a bad movie at all and there are plenty of great moments. I've come around on Tracy's more "interior" take on Hyde (he is genuinely gross and chilling) and while this movie has a reputation as being more "buttoned up" than the pre-code version, it's still mainly centered around sexual repression, sexual sadism, and sexual abuse.

I mainly rewatched the movie for Ingrid Bergman, who plays "bad girl" Ivy, the woman Jekyll/Hyde lusts after. Bergman has a similar problem to Audrey Hepburn in the first half of My Fair Lady in that she's not too convincing as an ill-mannered woman from the gutter. She exudes class, even when dropping a casual "ain't" into her dialogue. However, the emotional content of her performance is stunning. The scariest thing about this film is Hyde's abuse of Ivy and how it transforms her from a flirty, vivacious individual into a frightened, paranoid wreck. Bergman is heartbreaking and more than anything else, her suffering makes you despise Hyde.

I still prefer the 1931 movie, which is better paced and more frank, but this film is good in its own right and doesn't deserve the poor reputation it still has among classic horror buffs.

[female-buckets]

The glossier marketing annoys me so much… ‘ummmm girls can ball AND look pretty [ahem, wear makeup] too 🥺🥺🥺’ ‘remember ladies 🥺🥺🥺🥺 there’s nothing more important 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 than how you look 🥺🥺🥺🥺’ there’s absolutely no escape from this. Not even in the freaking wnba. Buy buy buy. And don’t ever think that anyone isn’t looking at you. You owe the world being pretty. That will always always always be what matters most about you, woman. Don’t forget you’re here forever

I loved playing sports so much from ages 8 through 14. I loved it. I loved to unleash the beast.

But I was also fucking miserable. I was so miserable for so many reasons. One of the reasons I was miserable is because I was starting to realize that people found the beast ugly. My ponytail was always frizzy. My face was always bright red. I was always sweaty. My legs were hairy. My eyes were scary. And people told me directly and indirectly over and over how ugly this all was. My brothers could play sports with reckless abandon without a care in the world about their appearance. But I couldn't.

I started out playing basketball extremely confident in myself. And the environment in girls sports made sure to give me every insecurity and eating disorder in the book. I was able to shake it all off eventually but that took like an extra 6 years. Fucking hell. And, yeah, I dropped out of organized sports at 14. Of course. Just like most girls. After that, I'd pick up solo active hobbies like jogging, dancing, and yoga. But I was never on a team again.

Everyone is so worried about how girls are always dropping out of organized sports. But no one thinks to make girls sports suck less.

They just try to sell us sports makeup hahahahahahahahahahaha haha ha

[horrorlesbians]

hello! your accessories in those selfies are SO gorgeous!! i also really love your makeup! can i ask what makeup you like to wear?

tysm anon!!! I actually have a shit ton of makeup but I don’t use it as much as I should. when I do my makeup I normally use the products below

pretty fresh tinted moisturizer from colorpop (and sometimes a concealer depending on my acne)

ultimate nyx or gone metal colorpop pallet

tarte blush in paaarty

urban decay highlighter in sin

about face shadow stick in pearly and eye paint in fractal (I love the glittery about face eye paints soooo much I have some of the matte ones too but I gotta play with them more)

milk or glossier brow gel

pencil eyeliner or liquid eyeliner from too many places (pencil I reach for rn is from the sephora house brand)

I have a Lot of lip products but my go to are normally lolita from kvd beauty or mildred rosewood from gucci

I normally never buy expensive mascara so at the moment I’m just using a random maybelline one but I like it

[anticmiscellaney]

as an aspiring comic artist looking to move from graphite and oil painting to more ink/inkwash/watercolor like you- could you explain your process a bit? any tips for beginners? i love your art and you're at the top of my inspiration list right now :,)

Thank you! I've been using ink and watercolour for a long time, and ink/inkwash is definitely my favourite medium. A key tip for getting started would be to know the different kinds of ink available because they all work differently. The three main ones are:

Dye-based ink - these have their uses, but they are not lightfast at all (fade quickly) and they act kinda weird. The colours are very vibrant, but they tend to dry very fast, not be waterproof (tricky for layering), and stain the paper. I use very few dye-based inks. Some ink brands look like they have a big colour range, but when you look at the boxes half of them say "dye based" - don't buy Higgins those.

Acrylic ink - think of this as very liquid acrylic paint. There are a lot of fancy options, many specialty kinds (metallics, pearls, neons), but they aren't going to give you the transparent inkwash look. It's good for drawing opaque lines over colour, and you can dilute it with water for a wash, but it gets chalky. Waterproof may vary (test it first), and it usually has a matte finish. White acrylic ink is well worth having as you can detail over solid black or tint it with coloured pigmented inks, and god knows I love using neons, but I treat acrylic ink like "effects" ink. It’s not my main drawing ink. Daler Rowney is good and widely available (pigment-based is not the same as pigmented ink, this is still acrylic ink), they have a few lines at different prices. Liquitex is decent.

Pigmented/India ink - this is my favourite kind of ink and probably what you want! Pigmented ink dilutes well (it’s a transparent medium like watercolour) and often has a glossier finish depending on shellac content, and it will say on the bottle if it’s waterproof (test that first). It’s good for brush or nib, good for layering, works nicely with watercolour and other types of ink, can be mixed to make new colours/tints...she’s got it all. If you’re in Australia, Art Spectrum is great, I stock up every time I’m back there. If you’re elsewhere, I recommend Speedball for black ink (Blick Black Cat in the US is good). Dr Martins Bombay India Ink has great colours and they’re usually affordable.

There are many brands and everyone has their preferences, and over time you will find your own. I have a mix of different types and brands, though probably fewer than you’d think. Get a small bottle in one or two colours and play around, see if you like it before investing in a set. Don’t buy fountain pen ink or Rapidograph ink for nib/brush, those are best suited to being used in specific types of pens.

The nibs I use are Hunt #512s. #102s (called crow quills) are popular and I like them too, but they are very sharp and will rip up your paper, and can be a little too flexible and hard to control. The #512 is a good all-rounder with a smooth line capable of variation, and I think they’re a solid choice for a beginner. These nibs and holders are cheap and widely available. I don’t buy expensive watercolour brushes because ink will wreck them a lot faster than watercolour will. What you want to look for is the fibers holding a point - the brush should not have bedhead.

My only real advice to someone looking to try watercolours is to not buy the cheapest shittiest kind. You know from oil painting that all paints are not created equal and bad paint is going to frustrate you, especially when you’re starting out. I started with one of these twelve years ago and I still use it in conjunction with other sets I’ve built myself, I just refill the pans from (better quality) tubes when they get low. They last a long time. So do bottles of ink.

I’d like to do a process post, but I’m not sure what would be interesting or helpful to you, and I use ink/watercolour/gouache in a lot of different ways. If there’s a specific piece you liked the look of, I’m happy to demonstrate that method, or I can just go through my favourite approach.

As for comics...the best advice I can give you is pretty general.

Anatomy is a rewarding life-long study, but what really counts for narrative art, over technical accuracy, is GESTURE, EXPRESSION, and BODY LANGUAGE. Look at people. Look at how they move, look at their faces, look at their hands, listen to how they talk. In comics, you are the director and the actors.

Environments are a bonus character in your story and can add a lot of depth and atmosphere! Understanding perspective will make using them a lot easier.

Do not start with your graphic novel idea, start with a short story (under eight pages) and finish it. Finish it. Fucking finish it. Then do some more, getting longer over time. The best idea you never do is worth less to your progress than the worst finished piece.

There aren’t a lot of books that dig into the nuts and bolts of sequential storytelling for artists in a way I like. Filmmaking books are handy, but they’re dealing in moving images and don’t have to worry about page design. There are some good “how to make comics” books (the two Will Esiner did are my favourites), but as a genre it can be very hit or miss. I always look at what the writer/artist has made to see if I want to listen to their instructions - if you hate their art and think the graphic novel they made sucks, don’t buy their how-to book.

Bob McLeod, one of my teachers, gave us all this list:

These rules aren’t inflexible, but they cover the big issues.

For actual storytelling advice, the best one I have read was Directing The Story by Francis Glebas. It’s aimed at storyboard artists, which I was, but it discusses visual storytelling and explains how to approach it and the reasoning behind choices in a way that is useful for anyone making sequential art.