#I can't even discuss it in the tags without giving it away

[triangle-dog]

TW pet death

(Not one of mine, don't worry. You won't miss anything if you skip this post.)

I will always and forever be a collar and tags person (or, look, if you are really concerned about strangulation then a harness & tags person or a breakaway collar or whatever). Microchips are great, all my beasts are microchiped, but if one of them gets out I want to be able to find them and bring them home no matter what has happened to them.

Two years ago, almost exactly I think, friends and I were three miles into a beautiful autumn hike with the dogs. The leaves were turning, the wildlife was active, and there was a crisp breeze. We rounded a corner and immediately saw a body floating out on the lake, a dog, its long black fur drifting back and forth in the small waves. After some deliberation on what to do, and if it was safe, I waded out to the dog while the others in the party held our dogs way back from the lake in case the water was bad. He wasn't that far out really, but it felt like it took forever to get there because I was fervently hoping he'd have tags. I could actually feel the relief wash over me when I got there and saw patches of blue collar peeking out between the drifting fur.

I towed him into the shallows by the collar. I'm the most familiar with bodies, which is why I was the one who went out to him, and I know that they age differently in the water but by my judgment he'd died farily recently - less than a day ago. When he's in close enough to shore that I don't think he'll drift away any time soon, I unclip his collar and return to the group. We sit down and strategize for a few minutes. How do you make a call like that without raising their hopes? (Answer: you can't - just the phone ringing will be enough).

"I'm very sorry," I say, "but I found a dog in the lake and I thought you would want to know." She tells me she was half expecting a call like this, that the gate didn't latch correctly and both dogs got out but only one came home. She tells me that they were so worried he wouldn't be able to find his way home in the storm last night. She tells me he was very old, that his mind had been going for awhile now. She tells me that most of his life, until the last few years as his body became less able to manage the walk, they would come down to a beach near here and that he loved to swim. She tells me she hopes he at least got to relive those memories for a bit before he went.

I give her the coordinates, it's not too far from a road if you bushwhack - certainly less than the 3mi we did, and tell her we'll bring him to shore. I pick him up out of the shallows, he feels frail, yet he's so so heavy from the weight of the water in his fur. He's much smaller than Nova, yet lifting Nova has never felt like that. I lay him gently on the rocky beach in what I hope is a natural looking, less-traumatizing-to-the-kids position. I clip his collar back on, with the fur no longer drifting around in the water obscuring it, you can now see the little tag saying "Poochie" on the front. We head back the way we came. That was walk enough for all of us, it would feel wrong to seek a different ending, and it was an out and back trail anyway.

Ever since then, every dead cat or dog I see reminds me of those lakeside discussions. We are all overly dedicated animal people, we're fully aware of microchips and all of our own pets are microchiped, but carrying a waterlogged body 3mi to the car to drive it to the vet's office was just not feasible - I don't think it would occur to most people that that was even an option. Even if they did think of it, most people would be opposed to putting a dead animal in their vehicle. I'm just gonna make it easy on people and put my phone number on my animals.

(Sorry, that post was so much longer than it needed to be, but my brain must have recorded that experience in a different kind of memory than usual because it is so so clear and comes all as a set like that so that's what you got too)

TLDR: OP found a dead dog once and has big feelings about it. Put collars/etc. on your pets

[kaythefloppa]

No Name Dream (Wild Kratts Season 7) spoilers.

It's been 13 years and yet Aviva still couldn't design a tail on the Draco Lizard Power Suit??

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[lovelyhan]

Okay, you still have a spot. Great. I thought they'd be filled so, I didn't send anything lmao. Insomnia has its perks.

This is deeply self-indulgent and I'd love more Hao from you. So, hear me out, Minghao with a breeding kink. I feel like it doesn't get enough attention especially given how much that man gravitates towards babies lol. Like he and Reader visit Cheol's and see him with his new baby and, Hao's like oh, wait a minute. I think this is making me feel some type of way.

— terrified ⟢

minghao has a knack for keeping the things you tell him in mind. from your favorite brand of wine to how the idea of bearing children terrifies you—he remembers all of it. so your husband is in a bit of a crisis when he realizes that this newfound desire to start a family kind of clashes with something you trusted him to respect.

★ FEATURING; minghao x f!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.4k words

★ TAGS; idolverse, established relationship, hao trying (and failing) to play it cool about the wanting-to-be-a-father thing, brief discussion abt family planning, this is only a little sad bc hao has overthinkeritis, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ WARNINGS; mentions of pregnancy and childbirth but nothing too graphic

★ NOTES; i scheduled to post this when it hit exactly 12 midnight in rj's timezone just in time for her birthday :> (pls look away if i got the schedule wrong,,,) i'm not really back yet bcs this is a queued post, but happy birthday, beloved. i love you more than i can say directly, so i decided to just write a fic for you instead! hopefully, i can come back and torment you with every other seventeen member BUT cheol soon :3c

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, multiple rounds, mating press, hao is just really feral in this yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz

★ MINGHAO TAGLIST; @haoxiaoba - @jeonride - @coffeestay - @hyvnae

In the height of his career as an idol, Xu Minghao filmed a certain piece of content where he was asked a normal question to which he responded with a slightly controversial answer.

"How many kids do you want in the future?"

"Oh, It's not me who'll give birth, so I can't be the one to decide."

It's a response that made waves on the Internet during the week the video was first posted—a reaction from both fans and casual netizens alike that Minghao definitely did not anticipate that he would receive when they packed up the set several months prior.

It's pretty much the logical answer, isn't it? Sure, he'd love to have kids someday, but the quantity isn't something he should decide on without his non-existent partner's input.

Minghao learns further down the road, when he finally meets and eventually gets together with you, that the number of children isn't the only thing that a couple should mutually agree on.

"I don't really want to have kids..."

You tell him this during a spontaneous date he deigned to take you out on. He just came back from a tour packed with a long list of stops and even if he should probably catch up on some sleep, he opted to have a picnic with you at the park because of how much he missed you.

Your cheeks are stuffed with a few bites of pie, thoughtfully chewing as you wait for Minghao's response to your sudden confession. If he didn't know you as well as he does, he wouldn't have sensed the waves of anxiety rolling off of you in waves—as if you're waiting for him to get mad at you for simply being honest.

Mingao heaves a quiet sigh before he pulls you into his chest—a tiny squeak caught in your throat after swallowing your food.

"Hey, that doesn't make me love you any less," he murmurs, pressing his lips on top of your head. "I know bearing children can be terrifying and painful, so I completely understand."

For a moment, your brow dips, a soft frown tugging at your lips. "I-It's not that I'm terrified... Okay, maybe a little. But—"

Minghao promptly silences your protests with a firm kiss on your lips—one that you find yourself easily melting into given the time and distance that's separated you until this moment. He smiles against your mouth, glad that you can be honest with him about things like this.

"No buts, if you don't want to have kids, that's alright," he murmurs before pulling away. "Maybe we can just get a dog. You're already close with Mingyu, aren't you?"

That makes you snicker. "You're so mean."

It's a brief exchange that Minghao doesn't really think about again for several years. After all, his career as an idol was at an all-time high. As much as he wants to settle down with you and start the next phase of his life, he's certain that he shouldn't step out of the limelight just yet.

But it doesn't take long for time to catch up with him.

One by one, his brothers are off to fulfill their mandatory service and the group's activities are at a momentary standstill. Those who were left behind go their separate ways for a while—Joshua expanding his solo promotions in the US and Jun taking up more brand sponsorships in China.

Minghao chose to stay in Seoul mostly for your sake, and the fact that this city is the only common ground between him and the rest of the boys. When Vernon and Seungkwan enlisted together, it was around the time that Seungcheol and Jeonghan came back with overgrown buzzcuts, while Joshua landed in Incheon for the first time in two years.

It was also the time when you and Minghao got married.

The event was celebrated among close friends and family with only a brief news article about the marriage of SEVENTEEN's The8 allowed by the company to circulate for a while. They did a good job at keeping things hush hush, and Minghao thinks it's only because it's been more than a decade since his debut that they're being so lenient.

But even if they weren't, nothing would stop Xu Minghao from making you his wife either way.

It takes a few more years for all thirteen of them to get back together again, but when they do, the first thing that Seungcheol does is invite everybody to his daughter's first birthday.

Minghao has met baby Suri a handful of times in the past. Seungcheol's wife visits them at the company from time to time, wheeling Suri's stroller into the practice room as her uncles all fawn over her until she's crying. For some reason, the only people the infant seems to tolerate are Jun and Seokmin.

It's pretty much the same scene during the party. Seokmin and Jun are the only ones allowed within a one-meter radius from Seungcheol's baby girl to prevent an incurable crying episode in the middle of the celebration. Soonyoung was not happy with the fact that he can't personally give Suri the little tiger plush he got for her, but Minghao thinks it's for the best.

But then, as everyone was finishing up with dinner, he saw you walk up to Seungcheol's wife with a familiar sparkle in your eyes. You're staring at Suri who's all dressed up for her party with a look of endearment—nearly gushing with how animatedly you're speaking with her mother.

Minghao doesn't think much of it. You and her have always gotten along for as long as he can remember.

What does catch him completely off-guard, however, is the fact that Suri is being handed into your arms and you let it all happen without much of a fuss.

Chan was in the middle of telling him about this martial arts move that he'd wanted to choreograph into a dance but as much as he wants to give the younger man advice, his gaze is completely glued to the sight of you with Suri in cradled against your chest.

It's one thing to see a woman holding a baby. It's another to see his wife do the same thing.

"Hao, look!" You quickly call him over when you catch his eyes in the crowd. "Suri thinks I'm worthy! It's been five minutes since her mom handed her over and she's still not crying."

The sight is so adorable that Minghao abruptly excuses himself from his conversation with Chan to rush towards you with clipped strides. His heart thunders inside his chest as you visibly dote on Seungcheol's daughter, and he isn't sure if he wants to give the feeling a name.

It eventually fades into a barely there throb in his chest when he drives back home for the evening. You quickly fill the silence with your attempts at looking at some properties in this newly opened residential area near the freeway and as always, your husband lends a willing ear.

"It's a little far from your company building, but it's much more spacious than our apartment right now," you chuckle, face alight with the glow of your screen as you scroll through the property's details on your phone.

Minghao hums before pulling over at a red light. "Hm? Isn't our place alright as it is? Why would we need the extra space?"

He half-expected you to answer with something along the lines of, so I can have more space to keep my book collection in or so you can have enough room to practice at home if you want to.

But all you do is let out an uneasy laugh, locking your phone before depositing it in the cupholder on the middle console.

"Y-Yeah, you're right. That was a bit silly of me."

The next time Minghao unwittingly makes the connection with you and the prospect of having kids is when Seungkwan's nephews are in Seoul for a couple of weeks.

While he and his sister are off to run errands every now and again, they typically ask Jun to watch over the kids because out of all the members, he's definitely the only one who can be trusted around children. Even more than those who are actual fathers.

But it just so happens that Jun is all the way in Shanghai to shoot for a historical drama, and for some reason, Seungkwan thought it would be a good idea to drop his nephews off at Minghao's doorstep.

"You're pretty decent with kids and your wife can take care of anything," Seungkwan praises while he ushers four year-old Hanjun into the room and eight month-old Jiren into your arms. "We'll be back for them after lunch!"

It's just as Seungkwan said though: Minghao is pretty decent with kids and you can take care of anything.

While waiting for lunch to cook in the kitchen, you both do your part in entertaining the children—Minghao pointing out different shapes and animals in the picture book from Hanjun's backpack while you quietly feed Jiren the baby formula that Seungkwan's sister prepared in advance.

So distracted with the sight of your soft gaze transfixed on the baby in your arms, Minghao barely notices it when the soup he's prepared starts to overflow from the pot. You scold him for being so distracted before he shuffles into the kitchen with his tail between his legs.

As he salvages what's left of the soup, Minghao tries to pull himself together. Sure, it's been a few years since you two tied the knot, but you made it clear years ago that children wasn't on the table when it comes to the two of you.

It's something that you both agreed on even before marriage, and Minghao isn't about to break your trust by saying he suddenly wants kids all because seeing them in your arms makes his brain short-circuit. He has more tact than that.

"Is it just me or are you acting a little weird?"

For some reason, you choose later that evening to corner him in the quiet of your bedroom. Minghao was just getting ready to sleep when you turned to face him with a frown.

"Weird how?" he wonders, praying that you wouldn't single him out like you probably will.

"I don't know, you were looking at me funny when I was giving Jiren his formula," you point out. "You only do that when you want something from me."

Your words make him sigh. Of course his wife would catch onto every nuance of his actions—even from his stare alone.

"And what do you think it is that I want?"

"Xu Minghao, we're already married. Cut the games and just tell me what's on your mind."

God, he really couldn't love you any more than he does now.

It takes several minutes, but you and your husband eventually migrate to the living room—cups of hot chocolate in hand as you patiently wait for Minghao to open up about something he's been keeping to himself for a while now.

He's rightfully nervous—hands clammy around the ceramic of the mug that matches yours. It's Game of Thrones-themed with a dragon's neck acting as a handle. You kept insisting at the souvenir shop that its selling point was the unique design, but Minghao was pretty sure you were excited by the fact that the printed text changes color depending on the drink's temperature.

With that memory suddenly drifting into his mind, the tension ebbs from his shoulders. Though he tends to forget, you're the last person who'll condemn him for what he's about to say to you.

"I've been thinking of starting a family with you," he admits—hitting his point straight to the roots. "But... I always brushed it aside because I know how you feel about kids. I don't want to force you into something you don't want."

It's in times like this where silence is more deafening than actual noise. It rings in Minghao's ears as you watch the steam rise from your mug and your husband lets himself stew in his anticipation, wondering how you'll choose to respond to his honesty.

Will you laugh at him? Will you be angry with him? It's a subject that the two of you rarely broach with each other, so he isn't quite sure how to handle whatever reaction you'll grace him with.

What Minghao never would've expected, however, is for you to crack him a relieved smile.

"Me? I thought you didn't want kids because having one would be detrimental to your career," you chuckle, taking the first few sips from your hot chocolate. "And you always kinda shrugged it off whenever I tried to ease the topic into the conversation."

"I did?" Your husband scowls. "When did I do that?"

"After Suri's birthday party? When I was showing you a couple of new houses?"

Oh. Oh.

"Shit," Minghao mutters, embarrassed. "I almost forgot about that. I'm sorry, love. It didn't occur to me because you said that you didn't want to have kids—"

"One time," you interject with a groan. "That was one time, Hao. God, can't a woman change her mind about wanting kids with her husband?"

He blinks. "But you said you'd be terrified."

"No, you said I'd be terrified. As an educated guess and to some extent, you're right. But it's not the having-a-kid part or the childbirth part that terrifies me, Hao." You let yourself breathe for a couple of seconds and it comes out shaky. Minghao has to resist the urge to reach out to embrace you.

"What terrifies me is becoming a mother."

The silence of the living room thickens when you say the words and Minghao feels his chest flutter with that same feeling from the first time he saw you cradling Seungcheol's daughter in your arms. Despite the questions swimming inside his head, your husband keeps his silence and lets you continue.

"Like, yeah, the pregnancy is going to be hell and god knows whether I'll even be alive after giving birth, but..." You hesitate, refusing to meet Minghao's eyes for reasons that elude him.

"Raising a child so they would grow up to become a good person is even more daunting to me... What if I accidentally teach them something wrong? What if they end up hating me because I can't keep up with whatever trends kids would come up with in a few years? What if they love you more than they love me?"

Minghao laughs airily. "Is that last part really a necessary measure?"

"It is," you insist before breathing out a laugh of your own. "Urgh, you get the point! It's just that... I'm not against having kids, but the responsibility that comes with raising one overwhelms me whenever I think about it."

"You know you're not in it alone, right? I'm your husband. Of course I'll be here to support you however I can," Minghao sighs before finishing the rest of his drink. "Whether you want kids or not, I'll go with either choice because I want what you want, yeah?"

"Yeah. I do know that. I think I've always known, but at the same time, I didn't want to tie you down," you murmur, tracing the handle of your mug with a small pout. "If we have a kid together, they might take up the time meant for your schedules. I never want to burden you like that..."

Your husband sets down his mug on the coffee table, carding his fingers through his hair with a disbelieving sigh. You were starting to fear that you might've annoyed him by accident, but when Minghao leans closer so that your eyes are leveled, you realize that is far from the case.

"Baby, our wedding rings are literally tattoos," he reminds you while reaching for your hand—pressing the inked fingers together. "I'm as tied down as I can be and you've never heard a peep out of me after all this time, yeah? So don't you ever think you or our future kids would be burdens to me."

Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Kids? Plural?"

"Hey, like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, you want what I want," you interrupt with a roll of your eyes. "I get it Hao, you're a gentleman. But what if I told you I want you to fuck me on this couch right now and give me your kids?"

The wording is so crass that it could only be seen as a joke, except the reaction it incites from Minghao is leagues more intense than a mere joke would. The mental image injects a rush of corrosive want straight into his bloodstream and Minghao swears it makes him a little lightheaded.

Your husband lets out a shuddering sigh. quickly lunging after you to pluck the mug out of your grasp and safely place it on top of the coffee table. When you look up at him so prettily as he cages you on the couch, the sight makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Then I want that, too."

Logically speaking, you and Minghao can't just flip the switch and go into full babymaking mode after a heartfelt conversation and a bunch of impulsive decisions.

For one, you were still on birth control. It would take some time to wean yourself off it and you'd have to ask your doctor if it was safe to stop taking the pills at this point in your life.

Next was that Minghao and the rest of the guys are going to be preoccupied with their latest album—one where all thirteen men are back together after years of being separated. It'll go on for a couple of months and maybe a year if he's going to take their tour schedules into account.

And because he doesn't want to be absent in any milestone during your hypothesized child's life, you and your husband mutually decided not to actively try for a kid just yet.

But that doesn't mean you can't pretend.

"Fuck, baby, your cunt's gripping me so tight," Minghao groans, nearly hissing as he slides his cock against the velvety heat of your walls. "You want my load in you, pretty? You want to me to pump you full until it's dripping out of your pretty pussy?"

With coherence having long left your mind, you arch your back even higher as your husband continues to plough you into the mattress. "Y-Yes, yes yes! Hao, feels s-so fucking good!"

He chortles quietly and even with your cheek pressed against the sheets, you can still picture the smirk plastered on his face. "Pretty baby's in love with my cock. You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"More," you whimper, the muscles of your pussy tightening around his length as he plunges in and out of your sopping entrance. "W-Want more, Hao. Need you to fuck me harder..."

Your husband is quick to comply with your wishes, gathering your hair with one hand while keeping your hips in place with the other. Minghao slams his hips brutally against yours, making stars dance in the seams of your vision as the head of his fat cock bullies its way into your leaking hole.

He's so deep, you can feel him prying your cervix open with a promise that you'll be filled to the brim if you behave tonight. And with all those years of being a professional dancer under his belt, it's no surprise that he's got enough stamina to wreck you more times than you can handle.

The first orgasm blindsides you completely. He'd just been whispering both sweet and filthy nothings into your ear when it washes over you like a tidal wave—inevitable, inescapable.

(Doing so fucking good for me, love. Taking my cock like a good, good wife. You'll take my cum just as well, won't you? Keep it inside so it'll take and you'll be swollen with my child. Then everybody will know you're mine.)

The second time it happens is mere seconds after Minghao's own orgasm. His thrusts have started to lose their practiced cadence and even if you've been in this situation countless times before, the euphoria that sings in your veins makes it feel like the first time all over again.

Minghao's cock twitches before his cum spurts in thick ropes inside your tight cunt—filling you with a warm sensation that has you biting down his neck to stifle your moans. The motion of his hips slows to a crawl as Minghao feels you clamp down on his length. Your pussy gushes around him with a delicious grip that brings him dangerously close to another orgasm with how good you feel around him.

"Fuck, baby," he swears, voice still hoarse with need despite the fact that he's fucking you into overflowing. "I love you. There's no one else I'd want to have a family with."

"T-There better not be," you say cheekily before Minghao is flipping you around so that you're lying on your back. The sensation of his cum dripping out of your ruined pussy makes your skin tingle with excitement, and the fact that his ravenous gaze is trained on your body isn't lost on you.

"Be a good wife for me and hold your thighs up," he whispers lowly and it takes you mere seconds to comply. "That's my girl."

You preen at his praise—no matter how pathetic it would make you seem. After all, if there's anyone who get reduced you into a cockdrunk mess, it's most certainly your husband.

Minghao doesn't waste any more time, he pumps his cock into full hardness for a few moments—refractory period be damned—before gliding the head of his cock against your slit. Your thighs twitch every time be brushes against your clit, making you cry out with desperation as he gloats at your misery.

"Minghao," you beg, trying your best to hold your thighs up just like he asked all while he's taking his sweet time admiring your pussy. "Fuck me more. Want you to fill me up even more."

"Needy little thing," he chuckles. "You want my kids that badly? If I fuck you too much, you might actually get pregnant, love."

"Don't care," you practically sob. "I want it. I want you. All of you—even your kids."

Fuck. He really, really fucking loves you.

Minghao needs little encouragement after that, gripping his cock tightly as he guides himself back inside you.

The new position makes it easier for your husband to pound into you—the weight of his thrusts pressing you into the bed with enough intensity to make the wooden enforcements of your bed groan from the effort he's exerting. He splits you open on his cock, spreading your folded thighs as far as he can as he drills inside of you with the promise of another load.

"So pretty and pliant for me," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your nose all while the squelch of your cunt with each pass of his cock echoes in the bedroom. "My perfect wife. You'll let me breed this pussy once all's said and done, won't you?"

You nod all too eagerly. "Yes, Hao! I'll let you use my pussy however you want. Just please make me come again!"

"So demanding," your husband sighs with a wicked smile as one of his hands trails between your legs. "Hold those thighs nice and open for me, love. You'll feel even better soon."

"W-Wait, I—"

Your protests quickly melt into a hiss of pleasure when Minghao applies ample pressure on your clit—lathering his fingers with your slick before tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub.

He knows you so well, been with you for so long, that Minghao already knows the ins and outs of your body. Your husband claims that making you come undone with his own fingers is a practiced art and that he'll never forget about it until the day he does.

So it's no surprise how quickly Minghao manages to make you unravel at the seams when he couples his intense thrusts with the added stimulus to your clit. You're creaming around his cock in no time—muffling your cries in the crook of your lover's neck as he fucks into you with the intention of filling you up even more.

"I love you," Minghao rasps as he tucks your head beneath his chin, pinpointing the height of his own pleasure. "I'll want no one else but you, baby. No one."

Shakily, through a haze of delirium, you manage to say, "I-I love you too, Hao. I'll always be yours as long as—f-fuck—you'll always be mine."

You twitch violently beneath the weight of Minghao's body and the sight of you so fucked dumb on his cock eventually pushes him over the edge. Your husband comes with a sharp breath, his white hot cum gushing into your pussy until it drips onto the sheets.

It's only when you've come down from that post-coital high that you realize Minghao is looking at you as if you hung up all the stars in the sky. You respond with a weak smack against his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumble weakly. "I might think you're in love with me."

"Y/N, we're already married."

"I don't see how that's a problem."

As Minghao does the honors of cleaning you up after roughing you up all evening, you quickly realize that, really, there's no reason to be terrified at all.

Not when your husband will be by your side every step of the way.

⟢ end notes: i wrote this in a haze so if there are any technical writing errors, i implore you to just ignore them for my sake <3 happy birthday again to my soulmate, rj! i hope you enjoy your day to the fullest and i also hope you like this gift i wrote for you hehe ^\\\^ like hao to the reader, i'll always be w you every step of the way (i'm just a lil busy rn, so i hope you forgive me !!)

[makuzume]

Genshin Men Reacting to Calling Yourself "Stupid" (insecure reader)

🔅characters: Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, Al Haitam

🔅content: gn! reader; comfort; Implied Relationship; Insecure reader uses humor as a coping mechanism for feeling 'stupid'; around 850 words per character

🔅a/n: From anon's request :))

[Genshin Impact Masterlist]

🔅Cyno🔅

Without a doubt cyno was one of the most acknowleged students of his batch. It was only natural for him to given that he now stood as the current General of the Mahamatra. But despite Cyno's high rank, his incredible fighting skills, and his intelligence, he was never one to rub it in on others' faces, and you admired him for it, but still, you sometimes couldn't help but feel just a little bit left behind.

There were times where you made jokes claiming how dense and stupid you were, to which Cyno would instantly turn his head towards you with a frown. "You are not stupid, y/n. It was just a mix-up, it's understandable" he would softly reply each time and you always brush it off with an akward chuckle right before he got a little too serious about it. But at some point, it started to not just become a mere comedic expression anymore to you.

Cyno would sometimes let you tag along to some of his meetings where they discuss the current cases they were investigating. You were always impressed by how quickly he manages to pick up certain details and predict the criminals' behavior even with little the evidence they possesed at the time.

He was also well learned in various areas beyond the scope a Mahamatra officer which enables him to connect the dots of each clue quickly. It looked like Cyno almost can always instantly come up with such complex strategies before you even finish blinking.

As you observed the meeting from the far end of the room, you couldn't help but sometimes try to play detective along with them, coming up with solutions and strategies of your own. But as you were listening to their discussion, they were already throwing out tactics on the table before you could even understand what was even the situation at hand to begin with. A lot of times it were ideas that you probably never would've been able to come up with yourself even if you had a hundred times the amount of time they had.

Doing this made you realize the gap between your intelligence, which made you shrink yourself at your seat as you quietly remained in the corner. You felt so dumb if you stood next to him, a joke. You felt like an embarassment.

After wrapping up the assembly, the two of you went out to have a meal at this new restaurant in the city. It had a foreign menu, and you kept inquiring the waiter about the meals because you didn't understand the unfamiliar terms being used to describe the dish. In the end, you just ordered whatever name sounded good- only to find out it was a dish you were allergic to. You ended up swapping meals with Cyno before you apologized, embarassed "Sorry... I hadn't realize what sort of food I ordered. That's what I get for being a little brainless huh?" He suddenly fell silent, his expression immediately saddened- his brows furrowed and his lips turned into a subtle frown as he looked at you with a softened gaze, but you were quick to change the topic into something lighter.

On the way home, you were casually talking about a book you recently read when Cyno suddenly but gently took your hand. He led the both of you to the side of the road where there were fewer people, away from the crowds.

He looked at you with a concerned expression "y/n... I couldn't help but notice how upset you looked since this afternoon... did something happen?" He spoke softly, giving you a moment to respond. 'So he noticed... I guess I really can't hide anything from him.' You thought to yourself and only shrugged it off with an akward chuckle, not wanting to worry him with such silly concerns.

"I wanted to ask you something... have you really just been joking whenever you would call yourself 'stupid' or anything similar..?"

Ah... he hit the nail exactly. In truth, you weren't surprised, you knew he was really smart to begin with.

Looking back at Cyno, you see him giving his full attention on you. There was no use trying to hide it now, you figured Cyno already knew the answer even before he asked that. Still, you didn't respond and looked down, your cheerful facade slowly begining to ceumble.

"y/n... You know that's not true." Carefully, he took both of your hands and placed them in his. "I'm always here to ease your troubles, no matter how little they may seem to you"

A part of him felt hurt that you saw yourself like that, Cyno felt somewhat responsible for not being able to make you feel reassured enough the previous times you 'joked' about those things before.

"...I'm... just an emotional mess, Cyno... I don't even make any sense most of the time." You said quietly with a chuckle as you looked down, a hint of sadness coating your voice. Cyno immediately responded "It doesn't have to make sense. I've never once found you foolish or idiotic in any way."

He released your hand. The next thing you knew, you felt his warm and gentle arms firmly wrap around you, embracing you over your arms and lovingly pulling you close to him as he caressed your back in small strokes.

"I'm not exactly sure what made you believe in such absurd ideas... and I don't know for certain yet what I could do to make you feel better.... but i want you to know i love you for exactly the way you are now, and that you are far from something as 'unintelligent'." Softly, he spoke to your ear as he continued to pet your back comfortingly. "We'll get through this together... I'll make sure you understand how untruthful these words are... it hurts me to see you feel this way towards yourself."

Tears began to form as you lightly sniffled, finally allowing yourself to lower your walls. Cyno pulled back slightly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheeks to wipe the small streams that were rolling down your face. Slowly, he planted a soft kiss on your forehead and looked at you with a gentle look "I always think of you with the highest regard, I hope you always remember that."

🔅Kaveh🔅

Honestly, Kaveh would assume it's HIM who's the 'stupider' one in your relationship

Kaveh often makes a lot of big, hasty decisions that are usually based off of his emotions, disregarding his rationality (which is a problem Alhaitham often told you when you first started dating him)

There's no denying the fact at how it's also so easy for him to become influenced or even manipulated by others, making a lot of wrong turns and questionable decisions.

"I don't know anything about the desert either, Kaveh. What do you expect from an idiot like me?" You would joke.

"Oh please, if one of us had to be the idiot, it would be me, without a doubt!" He would say with shamefully aware tone, raising both his hands as if it were the obvious.

You didn't believe him, of course. He was a brilliant architect, designing so many beautiful, and well loved structures such as the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Kaveh was even a big part of the renovations in Port Ormos, imrpoving the accessibility and practicality of certain areas- all the while making sure the aesthetics and durability were never compromised. How could a genunius such as himself ever become 'stupid', you wonder.

Over the course of a few more weeks, you kept making the same hurtful statements addressed to yourself to which Kaveh thought was just a mere joke (and Kaveh might have even been calling himself idiotic just as frequently as you did- possibly even more than you)

It was just another instance when you insulted yourself again did it suddenly click to him. "Ah, my bad. I didn't think about that. Thinking's a lot more dificult for someone as brainless as me"

Perhaps it was the way your tone sounded as you finished your sentence. The hitch of your voice and your low gaze suddenly made him come to the realization that it wasn't just a joke to you anymore.

It felt like a big slap to the face as he internally cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. 'How stupid could I be for not realizing that you felt this way???' He would think.

As he was looking back at all the times you had ever called youself something so foolosh, Kaveh slowly sat next to where you were sitting as his eyes had a worried but gentle look. He lightly stroke your back, trying to think of the right words to better reassure you, afraid to accidentally do any more harm.

He wanted to comfort you, to tell you that you're so much more than some 'idiot.'

"You are NOT stupid, let's get that clear..." Gently, he would say.

Kaveh thinks that you (and actually a lot of other people) were much better at rationalizing certain things he always failed to picture, always leading him into some heavy misfortune each time.

"Come on now.... If you think you're idiot, then I must be the king of the idiots, the BIGGEST idiot of them all!" He spoke comedically with a small smile on his face, his worried expression mildly seeping through his facade. His words felt genuine, that you weren't worth any less than you thought you did.

"...why don't we go out for a stroll? Go somewhere with a nice view and fresh air for a change of pace? Oh, we can get some treats on the way as well- maybe even have a picnic." You look at him, your expression softening. "Perfect for two so-called 'idiots' like us."

You couldn't help but smile back at him, lightly chuckling at his attempt to lighten your mood "I love you, you know that?"

🔅Tighnari🔅

Tighnari is incredibly smart, without a doubt. Ever since his days as an Amurta scholar, he had already been showing signs of great potential when it came to his intelligence, which is expected since he was heavily mentored under Professor Naphis, the current sage for Amurta.

His intelligence in understanding biology, the forest, and medicine always amazed you. Other than that, he's also very self assured, not letting any outside influences bring him any insecurities and doubt to his own capabilities, and you love that about him, but you sometimes wish that you could feel just as smart and reassured as him.

There were times you felt a bit embarassed to be his partner- you just felt like you were too 'dumb' for his own good, that he deserves someone just as equally promising and you were just... well... you. It was ridiculous, you know, but it was something you couldn't help but feel.

You were already making jokes that referred to your lack of capabilities but recently, your insecurities pushed it even further, making you joke about it whenever the moment allowed it, never missing an opportunity to attack yourself. "Hah, well I'm not the brightest person out there, so don't get you hopes up, Nari."

"I've studied mushrooms for years, y/n, no one could have also been able to remember all of them in just one night" Tighnari would only casually comment back towards you to reassure you, rummaging through his bag to get his notebook filled with notes and sketches dedicated to mushrooms. "Here, see? The one you found is slightly toxic, but it looks very similar to the one we were looking for, so you did a good job at somehow remembering how it looks."

You sat down on the grass, sighing heavily as you chuckled to yourself with a defeated voice "I'm too stupid for this task, it might have been better to take Collei, I'm sure she'd do a much better job than me. I'm just some idiot"

Tighnari puts down his bag to the side and sits next to you, using this time for the both of you to take a break from walking around the forest all morning "Collei had weeks to study the different classifications of mushrooms- you had one night. It's only natural that she would remember more than you." He said gently, a sigh leaving his lips.

The both of you remained silent for a while as you watched the forest peacefully, the gentle sounds of nature creating a relaxing moment for the two of you, somewhat calming down your built up frustrations woth yourself.

After some time, Tighnari spoke up with a soft tone "...Can we talk?" You look at him, curious where the conversation may lead you.

"I've noticed you've been acting strangely these past few days, and I've picked up some behavioral patterns you've been doing recently."

Tighnari slightly faced your direction as he saw your mildly confused expression, his voice slightly turning a bit more serious. "I've noticed you've been calling yourself such negative terms as of late... is that how you've been feeling about yourself recently?"

You fell silent, looking only at the dirt in front of your feet.

"y/n, won't you tell me what's really been going on..?"

Tighnari knew that you weren't as 'incapable' as you believed to be, but it still made him feel upset that you saw yourself that way. You're already an amazing person and an incredible partner, he didn't see how you could ever imagine yourself to be anything less than that.

Though he did understand that it was perhaps some floating insecurities you had at the back of your head, you probably weren't even fully conscious about it until now. Your 'jokes' must have been a means for some coping mechanism in defense of those insecurities, it's just a shame you didn't view them to be merely as a joke anymore.

No matter how much you hated being so called 'useless' and 'idiotic' it was still a feeling you couldn't get rid of, that it was too tied with you, a feeling you deserved.

"I never viewed you as someone incapable. You're actually much more than you make yourself believe to be." Calmly, but confidently, he spoke, which made you look at him with a slightly confused expression, uncertain how Tighnari could look so sure. Still, you sought answers, and asked him "...How?"

His expression softened slightly as his brows furrowed, just a bit. The muscles on his face slightly tugging at his lips to form a gentle smile. "You have a deep understanding of emotions, especially towards others. You are able to understand the depth of someone's feeling just by listening to them, and I think that's something to worth being proud of."

He was smart, waaay smarter than you, you believe. You're not sure if something as having emphaty would make the cut, especially since you don't think you're as adept at controlling your feelings either.

"You can feel way more complex emotions then I ever could, regardless if you can manage them or not." Tighnari scootches closer to you "I know what you're thinking. Yes, I may have graduated from the Akademiya, but that absolutely has nothing to do with your own capabilities" shaking his head gently, he spoke.

"We have a lot of our other friends who have their own things they are good at, yes? Nilou, Dehya, Candace... they're not from the Akademiya, but you wouldn't call them less than capable, won't you?" Looking down, you nodded in agreement.

"And I'm sure they would think the same for you as well, y/n. What you're feeling right now is just a bit of doubt, and that's what's been holding you back, but just know that it isn't true. You're just as capable as the rest of us. I can vouche for that." Tighnari softly said with a small smile, his hand carefully reaching for your hand and caressing it gently.

"And I'll always be here beside you yo make sure you understand that."

🔅Alhaitam🔅

At first Alhaitam didn't say anything, thinking it was mostly out of frustration whenever you would say things like "Argh! I'm such an idiot" each time you made a minor mistake or had trouble understanding a particularly difficult text you were reading, so he didn't find it as anything alarming to be too serious.

But as time passed on, he started to pick up that you were actually starting to believe what you were actually saying, making yourself think that you truly were 'stupid.' When he brought it up, you were dismissive and shrugged it off with a smile which he knew was fake, so he figured a different approach should be done.

One day, Alhaitam was piled with some work in the Akademiya and asked for your help in making some agricultural research paper that was needed to be done.

"Although I'd love to help... I don't think I'd be smart enough to do a good enough job for something so complicated as a research paper... You know me, I can't come up with anything actually useful with this small brain of mine" You tell him comically, secretly afraid of the idea of both you and Alhaitam looking at your work and feeling disappointed at the finished output.

"You haven't even started yet, give it a try first before you underestimate yourself. I'll give you a hand when you need me with anything. If you think it's too overwlemhing, then you can just leave it."

He knew you would take it, to be honest. He rarely asked you for any help (of course besides the smaller favors such as picking up some ingredients for tonights dinner on your way home). It was always Alhaitham who always seemed to have been doing you most major favors, he suspected you'd accept his request at times he needed it (and he was right).

Though it was a big responsibility- One you were afraid to disappoint him with. But a small part of you felt glad that he put such trust in you to believe that you could even complete an entire paper all on your own, as if he trusted that you were capable enough to accomplish it. So with that, you accepted it.

Day and night, you worked extra hard, spending most of your time reading through dozens and dozens of books and other related research papers to gain more background and knowledge on the topic.

Perhaps your fear to let Alhaitam down made you over exert yourself, trying to perfect the paper's content, esepcially on making the research's suggested solutions were actually useful and applicable. Hopefully, this impresses impress him, you thought (even just a little bit)

You didn't even approach him the entire 7 weeks you were working on it, not wanting to bother him.... and maybe believing that your querries were for 'simple-minded' individuals that shouldn't have even been a question in the first place. Alhaitam also didn't ask much about your progress either, letting you go at your own pace without pressure until you finished in case it would overwhelm you too much. Though even if he would've went to check on you, make sure you eating well, and even encourage you a little, it was hard for him to find your exact whereabouts most of the time. But when he does find you in your home, he sees a 'do not disturb' sign hanging on the door, so, he instead leaves some snacks and cooling patches by the entrance of your house instead.

Surprisingly, after revising and re-reading it the final draft of the paper countless of times, you actually felt quite proud once you were finished. A warm feeling and sense of achievement brought a smile to your face as you handed him the paper, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As he skims through each page thoroughly, you felt your whole body was tense as you held your breath. He reaches the final page and says "Good job. It has a lot of great points that the Akademiya could actually use." Which brought an overwhelming amount of relief to you. He did give a few honest comments such as some minor revisions here and there, but nothing too critical.

Alhaitam couldn't help but smile (just a tiny bit) as he saw you relax and finally breathe out in relief, smiling to yourself. He was hoping this experience would make you believe more in yourself and your capabilities: To find a way to make you feel like you actually are smarter than you give credit for. You just needed the opportunity to prove it with yourself.

"Great work. I'm proud of you." Alhaitham said with a soft smile.

[Back to Genshin Masterlist] [Overall Masterlist]

a/n: aaaaaa can't believe I was in a never ending editing cycle with this one after weeks :') Might need some revisions but still- I'm so relieved this is out T0T also glad I was still able to write even though I am sickly in pain by 1000% hoping anon sees this huhu

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

Can I request Reader asking Astarion nervously if you can spank him? Only if he's interested & after discussing about his boundaries & safe words!

Just for you, beloved anon.

NSFW below the cut! Mind the tags, and minors, please don't interact!

"So, I have a proposition for you," you begin, leaning back against the counter. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you try as hard as you can to push your apprehension down. He'd told you to be honest, after all. He'd told you to ask.

Astarion lifts his head from the book he's reading at the table in the middle of your kitchen, attention immediately redirected to you. He closes it without looking away from your face. "Oh? Do tell. You always have the most interesting ideas."

You grin at him at the same time he grins at you, and you both have to stifle a laugh. Your ideas are very interesting, if you do say so yourself. Astarion certainly tends to think so, if the way he'd flushed the time you suggested fucking him instead of the other way round was any indication.

It takes real effort to draw your focus back to the conversation at hand instead of reminiscing on where that particular discussion had led. "I was thinking about things I might like to try, like we talked about."

Astarion straightens in his chair. "Go on."

"And I came up with something else." You take a breath. There's really no good way to say it, so you just brace youself and hope for the best. "I want to try spanking. Spanking you. So do with that what you will."

There's a heavy silence once you've spoken, the two of you staring at each other in a beat of mutual thought. Anxiety surges in your chest as you watch his face, looking for any sign of discomfort or disgust. The last time you talked about sex and limits, you'd promised each other that you'd share any fantasies that came up. Astarion wants to experiment as much as possible, wants to find out what he likes, and he said he would at least consider virtually anything. But this is something you haven't tried yet: you haven't ever taken the more dominant role when those dynamics come into play. It could be a problem, you know that, and of course you're afraid that even asking will remind him of things he'd rather forget. But you want to give him the opportunity to say yes or no instead of making his decisions for him.

A slow smile starts to spread across Astarion's face as he stands up from his chair, crossing the space between you in two strides and pressing so close that you have to crane your neck up to see him properly. His fangs flash over his bottom lip, his eyes darken, and when he croons "Well, darling, I think I could be amenable," you're flooded with the heat of knowing he wants it as bad as you do.

So it is that you find yourself watching Astarion undress himself before you as you sit on the side of your bed, fully clothed. You're long past any need for modesty with each other, and he flashes you a sultry smirk as he pulls his shirt over his head.

"Same safe-words as always?" you ask. Astarion tugs his trousers down, and you get a rather delightful view of the toned muscles in his thighs as he kicks them off (and across the room, but that's something to deal with later).

"Fine with me," he says. "'Dagger' for stop. Snap of the fingers if we can't talk." His underwear goes the same way as his trousers, and before you know it he's straddling your lap, arms thrown around your neck. His lips are on yours almost instantly, and you kiss him back with pure muscle memory, raising your hands to cup his face and run your fingers through his curls. When you tug ever-so-gently, you're rewarded with the smallest moan into your mouth.

It takes the better part of fifteen minutes to get completely situated- you're entirely unable to keep your hands off of each other, and at one point Astarion nearly derails the whole thing by pinching your nipples through the fabric of your shirt- but you get there eventually. Astarion lies over your lap, facedown, his ass exposed to you. He rests his head on his arms and wiggles a little as he settles.

"Are you ready?" you ask, sliding your palm over the smooth skin of his lower back.

"Yes," he says, and no more than that. Before you have time to talk yourself out of it, you cup one of his cheeks, then quickly smack it with the flattest part of your hand.

It's not a particularly hard blow, but Astarion jolts a bit anyway, his cock dragging against the inner part of your thigh. He takes a breath- one, two, three- and you see his fingers flex in the fabric of the bedspread.

"Again," he hisses. "Gods- again," and his voice is low and strained and almost unbelievably fucking hot, and you've never been good at saying no to him. Every time you hit him, he tells you again, more. Every time you hit him, he seems to grow harder against you. You spank him again and again, alternating between cheeks, hitting every part of his ass until his skin glows pink., and you're raising your hand to deliver another blow when he stumbles on his demand.

Your hand stills. "Is this alright?"

Astarion lifts his head to look over his shoulder at you incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"I just want to hear you say it."

You can almost physically see him biting back whatever quip or barb has sprung to the tip of his tongue. "Yes, darling," he says instead, letting his head fall back down to the mattress. "It's alright. It's- it's good."

Reassured, you raise your hand. Astarion tenses when you pull away, already anticipating the next blow. it's obvious that he's expecting it (and that he wants it- he's grinding shallowly against your thigh, little aborted thrusts of his hips that he's clearly struggling to keep control of), but you refuse to give it to him, just for a second. Instead, you trail your fingertips up his side and relish in the reaction you get: a soft sigh and a gorgeous shiver.

He does look good like this, you think to yourself as you squeeze his hip just enough to win a short little gasp. What a privilege to be the one to get to see it. His ass has blushed a very pretty shade of pink where he's taken your blows. Something deep in your belly twists at the knowledge that it's your blood that courses through his veins. Your blood that fills the hard cock digging insistently into your inner thigh.

"How many more do you think, darling?" you murmur, running a soothing hand up his spine and into the downy hair at the nape of his neck. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what will get you there."

He hesitates only a moment. "Twenty." His voice is steadier than you would have thought. "Give me twenty. I..I want to know how it feels."

"Alright, love." Your hand returns to the curve of his ass. You gently press your fingertips into his reddened skin and admire the pale marks left behind.

Later, you'll remember as clearly as if you're living through it again. On the first hit, Astarion gasps, a sharp inhale of breath that he doesn't need or mean to take. On the fifth hit, he starts making sounds in the back of his throat, punched-out little ah-ah-ahs as your hand connects with his ass again and again. On the eleventh hit, Astarion begins to lose control of the movement of his body, and the restrained grind of his cock against your thighs becomes more and more frantic. On the sixteenth hit, he cries out, genuinely cries out, a wordless shout of pain and pleasure. He doesn't say his safe-word, doesn't signal you, just writhes in your lap alive with arousal and need. And on the nineteenth hit, he comes with a wanton, aching moan, unable to stop himself from leaving your thighs an absolute mess. You stop there, and when you gently brush the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and whisper "thank you," Astarion smiles at you like you've lit the sun.

Afterward, there are hours (maybe even days) of aftercare, and the two of you discuss every single part of what you've done together: what you liked best, what you want to do again, what felt good. The next time you find yourself in the same position, it's him who asks you, a pink flush at the tips of his ears. For now, though, you're content to take care of him.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of SA, discussions of sexual situations.

Word Count: 1k

Previously On...: You went through Bucky's text history with Jade. It was... illuminating, but also soul-crushing. You're not sure how you're going to get past this.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the engagement you've been giving the story! It means so much to me to see everyone so invested! I love you all! Some of ya'lls theories are WILD, and I love them! Keep 'em coming! And if you've sent me a speculation or comment and I haven't replied, it only means that I can't respond without giving away too much information about what's to come, so I feel it's best for me to keep my trap shut; not that I don't appreciate and love you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1 @les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The next several weeks passed by quietly. Or, rather, as quietly as living in a towerful of superheroes could be expected to be. You and Bucky danced around each other in a strange sort of limbo since you had officially broken up–almost two months ago, now– no longer lovers, yet not quite just friends. It was difficult. It was painful. He would say something, or give you that look, and you’d be so tempted to melt into his arms. Hell, or rip off his fucking clothes. But you’d remember everything that had happened, the way your life had been completely unended in the span of an evening, and the urges would vanish like smoke in the wind, and the walls would return around your heart.

You’d wanted to ask Steve about what Bucky had said– about getting erections when he sparred, but he was still ignoring you, not wanting to engage with you in any form of conversation that didn’t directly concern Avenger work. It was beyond frustrating, the length his cold shoulder had gone on for, but you couldn’t force him to engage with you.

There was, however, one person you could ask, though you were fairly confident Bucky would be furious at you for doing so. Oh well, you thought. If he didn’t want you asking questions about it, he should have never given you reason to question the things he told you in the first place.

“Hey, Sammy,” you said, cornering your friend in the training room after he finished a run on the treadmill. 

“‘Sup, Baby Girl?” Sam wiped his brow with the hem of his shirt. “Come to watch Ole Sammy get all sweaty?”

“Ew, gross,” you shoved him playfully. “Not even a little bit. I have a question for you, though.” You handed him his water bottle, and he took it from you gratefully, chugging down a few swigs before looking back to you.

“Shoot,” he said. “I got all the answers.”

You chewed thoughtfully on your bottom lip, wondering how exactly you were going to word your inquiry. “You ever spar with Bucky?”

Sam slowly lowered his water bottle and eyed you suspiciously. “Why?” he asked you slowly.

“It’s a simple question, Sam,” you responded as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Have you sparred with him, or not?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, as though trying to determine whether or not you were luring him into some kind of trap. “I have,” he drawed out.

You raised a brow. “Anything… weird ever happen to Bucky when he really lets himself get invested in a fight?” you asked. “Anything… unusual?”

“So, he finally told you about that, huh?” Sam asked, mirroring your stance. 

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific, Sam.” You put all of your weight onto one foot. 

“Well, either you know, or you don’t,” Sam argued. “It’s not my secret to tell you.”

You were growing frustrated at his reticence to give you the information you were looking for. “Come on, Sam. Let’s just say Bucky told me about something that occasionally happens to him when he fights, but I don’t know if I can believe him or not. I’d ask Steve, but he’s not speaking to me at the moment, so you’re my only way of confirming if what he told me is true or not. I need you to be straight with me. Please.”

Sam studied you, his expression unreadable. “What the hell happened between the two of you, Pocket?”

“Nothing I want to talk about right now, Sam,” you told him, your impatience beginning to show. “Are you going to tell me what I need to know, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, finally giving in. “Alright. So, sometimes, when Tin Man really gets into the heat of it, he gets…” Sam coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the line of conversation, “excited.”

“Excited.” You rolled the word around in your mouth. “More specific, Sam.”

Sam rubbed his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Baby Girl. You gonna make me spell it out?” You nodded, eager for him to get on with it.

Sam’s eyes rolled heavenward, as though he were praying for the Lord to give him the strength to deal with you. “Sometimes he gets a fucking boner when he fights, alright? You happy now?”

You should be. You really should be. It meant there was one thing, at least, he’d been honest with you about. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Did he tell you why?” you asked, instead.

“You’re just asking me to break all kinds of confidences today, ain’t ya, Baby Girl?” You gave him a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” Sam finally relented. “It was awkward as hell, the first time I noticed it happen, but Barnes said it was a left over from the shit Hydra did to him when they were programming him to be the Winter Soldier. They wanted to make him… excited by the fight, aroused by it.” Sam shook his head, disgusted by what his friend had endured. “So, they did all kindsa shit to merge the two– sex and violence, until his body couldn’t tell the difference between ‘em.”

You blinked once, twice, three times at Sam’s words. You supposed you should feel grateful– here was confirmation Bucky’d spoken the truth to you, and you were fairly sure that Sam wouldn’t have lied to your face to save Bucky’s ass. And yet… and yet. Sam, and Steve, as well, had been privy to this part of Bucky’s past that he’d felt the need to keep from you. Even that thought brought you more conflict: if it was something Bucky had shared with Sam and Steve, it made the fact he’d shared it with Jade less significant. But, the angry voice in the back of your head insisted, he’d still chosen not to share it with you. And that still stung. Your thoughts just spun in circles.

“Got anymore horrifically awkward questions for me?” Sam asked, and you realized you’d been silent a bit too long.

“No,” you said, shaking your head as though to clear your thoughts. “Uh, that was it. Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.” You turned to leave the training room.

“I’d say ‘any time, Baby Girl,’” Sam called after you, “but that was awkward as hell and I sure as shit never want to talk about Bucky’s erections with anyone ever again!”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[mcalhenwrites]

Please boost if you can't help financially, thank you!

So here's the deal: My mom is getting a new car (used but new for her) and has a car that I could buy off of her. It's not the best and I can't afford it yet (alongside tags/taxes/insurance), but it's the only option I have. Buying a car anywhere else is either going to be extremely expensive, or I'm getting something from a stranger without knowing the car's issues. Three different people are giving me rides to doctor's appointments, errands, and work. I work two towns away. I have a book for sale. It's called Geckos, Automata. If you like urban fantasy with queers, automatons, necromancy, and the discussion of generational abuse and trauma, check it out!

Even if you've bought the book and want to help out, there are other ways as well! I have two tiers available on my Patreon: $1 and $3 If you like my writing already and want to support me, even $1/month is incredibly helpful! I've also got a Ko-Fi, with a car goal set already. You can send whatever amounts you like. I also will take art commissions, but they're just sketches and would be $15 per character, +$10 for an additional character. (Limit of 3 characters total.) You can ask me more about it if you're comfortable. Thank you so much whether you help out financially or boost this. It will help me out immensely, and it'll ease the strain on the three people who are giving me rides everywhere. I'm doing my best and working on writing, but I am disabled and struggling a lot financially despite all the different jobs I juggle. (And if I can't get rides, I can't even go to work, I can't get money. No, I don't have public transportation in the country.) I'm pretty desperate but I'm willing to work for my wages, and I'll work on publishing more stories. If you do want to check out my writing, I do have free original stories as well as fanfic up on my AO3.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Surrender Part 4

Here we are guys, the end of the sequel of the summer Valentine fic. Thank you all who liked, commented, and reblogged this lovely story. I love seeing my regulars interact with their comments and tags. It's makes me so happy.

And if regularly do and haven't lately: I get it, it's not always easy to comment (whether as a comment or in the tags) on every part, just know I missed seeing them.

Sadly no prom-posal because they can't really go together-together, but Eddie did go over and ask in person. He's not a complete idiot.

This is my longest "chapter" I've written clocking out at 3700+ words because I refused to split it up further dammit!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Damn it scheduled for 10pm not am but here we are just a few minutes late.

~

Eddie sat at the back of the class as he always did, trying to come up with ideas of what to do for prom. Because of course Steve said yes.

Steve’s eyes lit up and he swung Eddie around chanting, “Yes, yes, yes!” until the pair of them fell to the floor giggling like children.

They kissed and laughed until they couldn’t breathe.

Steve already had a suit, he really hadn’t grown that much since the funeral and just needed a nice cummerbund to make it school dance worthy. So he didn’t go with the Hellfire boys to get their tuxes.

Jeff had gone for a blue suit jacket with black pants and bow tie with a white button up. Gareth went for a double breasted black jacket and bow tie with matching pants. Brian had picked up a white jacket and bolo tie with black pants.

Eddie though?

Eddie had gone for a thin black neck tie and tight dress pants and then was going to wear his leather jacket over the top.

Steve was positively salivating at the thought.

They were sitting at the table discussing prom ideas when Nancy came up to Steve.

“Hey, do you have a date to prom?”

Steve and Eddie shared a concerned glance before Steve just shrugged.

“These guys didn’t get dates either,” he explained, “and offered to let me go with them as a group. Why? You asking?”

Nancy’s face twisted in disdain. “No, of course not. I’m not going to that meaningless high school mating ritual.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Jonathan didn’t want to go, huh?”

“He won’t let me pay.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her foot.

Steve rolled his eyes and shared a glance with Eddie who shared his exasperation.

“What do you want, Nance?”

She pursed her lips and looked down at the floor. “I thought that if you had a date, then we could double and Jonathan wouldn’t feel pressured to spend a lot of money.”

Jeff and Brian looked at each other and then burst out laughing with Eddie joining in.

“Tell me you’ve never been poor without telling me you’ve never been poor,” Brian huffed out between gales of laughter. “Jesus H. Christ, he’s gonna feel even more pressure to spend a lot because he’s gonna see Stevie here go all out for his date and he’s going to get flustered and upset he can’t do the same for you then there’ll be huge fight, leaving you stranded at the prom waiting for Mommy Dearest to pick you.” He wiped away a tear of laughter.

Steve nodded and then half shrugged. “I’m with him on that one. It’s a guy thing. You’re out to wound his pride and you’re only going to catch hell for it.”

“Here’s a thought, Nancy Drew,” Eddie said with a menacing grin, “why not skip it and do it next year. At your actual senior prom since he’s so worried about it. Give him time to save up for it so he can do something nice for you and stop pushing people around.”

Nancy’s jaw dropped and she turned to Steve. “Are you just going to sit here and let him talk to me that way?”

Steve swirled in his chair to look up at her. “We aren’t dating, and he’s not wrong. Plus, I’ve been asked to prom by a couple of very forward girls and had hints broadly dropped that I should ask them to prom. Tammy Thompson was the worst of the lot. Talking about how a king should be with a proper queen or some shit like that. And I’ve turned them down because all of them want the Harrington charm and money and not me, also they’ll want sex or worse, to go steady and I just can’t handle that right now.”

He looked pointedly at her.

She frowned for a moment and then her eyes went wide and her mouth formed a silent ‘O’.

“Yeah,” he said, turning in his seat to out his back between them. “So you’ll pardon me if I don’t want to do you any favors.”

She slunk off back to the table with the rest of her friends and Jonathan.

Gareth shook his head. “The absolute nerve. Jesus Fucking Christ.”

Steve could only agree.

~

“Come on, man,” Gareth huffed, crossing his arms. “If we all pool our money we could rent a limo and show up in style.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

They were all sitting around Gareth’s garage making the final plans for prom.

“Dude, you could,” Steve agreed. “But those things take up at least three parking spots and you will have the rest of the student body hate your guts for all of time for it being in the way of everyone else.”

Gareth slunk further into the couch with a sneer. “It can’t be as bad as he’s making it out, he just doesn’t want us to have any fun.”

“That’s because you were a freshman when Tommy H. and Carol Perkins did it for junior prom last year,” Steve said, shaking his head. “They got so much shit for it, and it took Tommy bullying certain people to get it to stop.” He raised his hands. “Something I didn’t condone by the way.”

Jeff winced and shook his head. “Hard pass on being hated more than we already are.”

“I’m with Jeffy on this one Gare-bear,” Eddie said with a grimace. “Let’s take Mr. Romance’s advice on this one, yeah?”

“Fine!” Gareth growled. “But I refuse to get in the fuck ugly Bimmer of Steve’s and I’m not to be seen in these nice suits in Eddie’s van.”

“I never said we couldn’t rent a car,” Steve said reasonably, “just that we shouldn’t rent a limo.”

Suddenly the four other boys were leaning forward in their seats, looking at him in rapt interest.

“What did you have in mind, Stevie?” Eddie asked, slowly licking his upper lip.

“Who hasn’t had the dream of showing up to school in a shiny convertible?” Steve asked with a smirk. “It’ll be nicer than a limo, and most likely cheaper, too. And of course I bet we could get Eddie’s Uncle Wayne to rent it for us, with the little bribe that he gets to drive it around first.”

Eddie threw back his head and cackled. “That would work! He would love the little bribe, too.”

The other three boys looked at each other before Jeff said, “All in favor of getting nice convertible for prom?”

All the hands went up and Steve sat back, looking like that cat that got the cream.

~

Steve stayed over at Eddie’s the night before the dance. The plan was that after lunch, Steve would go home and get ready for the dance and then Eddie would pick everyone up for dinner then they would go to the dance.

Eddie had other plans, of course, but Steve didn’t know about those. Yet.

Around ten o’clock in the morning, with the two boys still tangled up in each others limbs there was honking of someone’s horn, followed by Wayne yelling at them to get the hell out of bed.

Steve and Eddie blinked bleary-eyed at each other for a moment before the fog of sleep cleared and they were on their feet in an instant. Steve threw on some sweats as Eddie yanked on a pair of jeans. They were out the door before Wayne could honk again.

He was leaning up a red 1984 Chrysler LeBaron five seater with white upholstery with the top down. His arms were crossed and had the biggest smile on his face.

“So what do you think, boys?” he said cocking his head to the side. “You think it’s fancy enough for that dance of yours?”

Eddie and Steve shared matching grins. They ran down the stairs in their bare feet up to Wayne and the car.

Steve was already running his hands over the body of the car. “Wayne, she gorgeous. She wasn’t too much was she?”

Wayne shook his head. “You boys’ money more than covered it for the night. I’ll return it tomorrow with a full tank of gas, no worries.”

Eddie hugged his uncle tightly. “Tonight is going to be the best night ever!”

Wayne hugged him back as Steve continued to admire the car.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find one that would fit all of us,” he breathed, “but fucking hell. It’s perfect Mr. Munson!”

“I’m glad you’re happy with it, Steve,” Wayne murmured as Eddie let go of him to follow Steve around the car. “Brian will probably have to sit in the front seat to be comfortable, but other than that, you’ll be golden.”

“Well, old man,” Eddie said after Steve and he looked over every inch of the car, “She’s all yours. Just bring her back by five so I can pick everyone else up.”

Wayne chuckled and opened the driver’s side door. “She really is a beaut, Ed. I can’t wait to let her unwind on the open road.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, knowing that he wanted to do the exact same thing. He followed Eddie into the trailer, a skip in his step.

Eddie made for the kitchen to starting making them breakfast and Steve sat down at the small table they had nearby.

“So we’re going out to eat at Enzo’s,” Steve murmured. “Which I really don’t want to know how Gareth pulled that off, considering everyone goes there for prom and getting reservations are vicious. It’s almost a blood sport.”

Eddie chuckled pulling out the eggs to scramble. “Gareth’s mom is friends with the owner and she always has a standing table there.”

“Well that’s a relief,” he said wiping his brow. “I thought he had murdered a couple of our fellow students for the privilege.”

“I love that it’s Gareth you think would be the murderer,” he called over his shoulder, “instead of anyone else coming with us tonight.”

Steve half shrugged and started counting them off on his fingers. “Brian is a staunch pacifist, Jeff gets sick at the sight of blood and you are so sweet that it’s impossible to believe that would harm anyone unless they started shit first.” He tapped his fingers on the surface of the table. “But Gareth is the quiet one and everyone knows that serial killers are the strong and silent types.”

Eddie poured the beaten egg mixture into the heated frying pan and began to stir it around.

“I guess that makes sense,” he said after a few moments. “I love your absolute faith in me, by the way. If there were any serial killings in this town, the mob would come after me first.”

Steve sighed. “True that. Unfortunately.”

Eddie scooped the cooked eggs onto two plates, bringing them over to the table with a couple of forks.

They settled down to eat. After a few minutes of silence Steve asked. “You thinking of doing anything after the dance? I know we haven’t really talked about what we’re doing after.”

Eddie got that soft secret smile that made the butterflies in Steve’s stomach take flight. “There might be a couple of things I might have in mind.”

Steve shook his head fondly. “And let me guess, it’s a surprise and I’m not supposed to know?”

“Yup!” Eddie replied with a grin. “No eat up, I have plans for this morning...” he wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve started immediately shoving egg into his face to Eddie’s cackling glee.

~

To say Steve was nervous would be a fucking understatement. He’d never been picked up for prom before and not knowing when Eddie was going to show up only made his anxiety spike further.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t know when Eddie was going to leave to start picking everyone up, it was that Steve was third after Brian and Gareth, who were first and second respectively.

In his hand was a corsage for Eddie. It was black rose wrapped in a silver ribbon. And he was doing everything in his power not to crush the clear, plastic box it was in.

There was a knock on the door and Steve’s face fell a little when he saw it was Gareth at the door.

“Wow,” Gareth snarked, “don’t look all excited and shit to see me or whatever.”

“I–I guess I was expecting Eddie...” Steve muttered. He shook his head and tossed the box on the table. “I’m ready to go.”

Gareth frowned a little bit and then his expression cleared when he saw what was in the box. “Oh hell no.” He held up a finger and dashed back to the car. He yanked Eddie out of the driver’s seat and toward Steve’s door.

As they neared Steve heard Gareth grumble, “You are not fucking this up already!”

Eddie opened his mouth to protest when he saw Steve at the door looking dejected. He snapped it shut with an audible click. He saw the box on the table and looked back at Steve.

“You got me flowers?” he breathed. He couldn’t believe it. He had told Steve that he was taking care of everything.

But he forgot one thing and the fact that Wayne hadn’t brought it up, meant that Steve had gotten it for him as a surprise but told Wayne to keep Eddie from buying one for himself.

Steve gulped down the lump in his throat. “It’s just a silly corsage. The other guys aren’t wearing one, so I’ll just tak–” he reached up to remove his own white rose corsage when Eddie put his hands over Steve’s.

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. “I screwed up. I was supposed to be wooing you tonight and I already misstepped. I should have come to the door to pick you up. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled still trying to remove his corsage.

Eddie took his face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Baby, it is. Because it’s important to you. So what we’re going to do is, you’re going to stop trying to remove yours so it doesn’t get ruined,” and immediately Steve’s hands dropped to Eddie’s waist. “Good boy, now the next thing you’re going to do is pin that pretty flower you got for me on my leather jacket and then we’ll go get Jeff, okay?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then nodded. Then with trembling hands he took the black rose out of the box and pulled out the pin that would be used to attach it to Eddie’s jacket lapel.

Eddie wrapped his hands gently around Steve’s quivering hands again, this time to calm him. “Take your time, Stevie.”

Steve took a deep breath and looked Eddie in the eyes.

“There you are, princess,” Eddie cooed at how much calmer he looked now. “If it helps, I can knock on the door and we can start over.”

Steve shook his head but took a step back. He brought Eddie’s lips to his and kissed him deeply. “This will just be some stupid story we tell our grandkids when we’re old and grey.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Only a month in and you’re already planning our grandkids! And I thought I moved fast.”

“Nope!” Steve teased, kissing him again. “You move fast, I move faster.”

Eddie giggled as a more confident Steve pinned the corsage to his leather jacket. They walked out and got into the LeBaron. Steve hopped into the back seat with Gareth who grumbled under his breath.

“I told him he should have gone up there and not send someone else, but noooo,” he muttered darkly. “I’m a little squashmore who’s never gone on a date in my life, what would I know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Rub it in. And where oh font of wisdom did you gain such knowledge, hmm?”

Gareth erupted, throwing his arms in the air. “I watch movies!” he huffed as Eddie pulled out of the driveway. “My mom and brother love romantic comedies. The dude always goes to the door unless he’s meant to be the douchebag loser.”

Steve burst out laughing. “He’s got you there, Eds.”

“Mistake made,” Eddie said dryly, “lesson learned.”

They got to Jeff’s, who’s mother had gotten Brian, Gareth and her son all corsages. They all had a single red rose to match Eddie’s black and Steve’s white roses.

“Ooh,” Eddie murmured. “Uncle Wayne was playing the long game, wasn’t he? He told you not get me and Steve corsages because Steve had them covered, didn’t he?”

Mrs. Laurence shook her head, barely containing her smile. “Steve coordinated it with me and I filled your uncle in.”

Eddie shook his head fondly and took Steve’s hand.

She took pictures of everyone in the tuxes and then sent them off with a wave.

~

Dinner was amazing. Especially with Steve gently guiding them with which forks to use, the meal was delicious and company was even better.

Their waiter even commented that he wished him and his friends had thought about just getting dressed up anyway and going to prom as friends. It would have been better than them sitting at home eating pizza and feeling sorry for themselves.

Steve just smiled up at him as the rest of them filled him on the rest of their plans. Well... all but Eddie anyway.

They got to the dance and while Mrs. Click was absolutely fuming, she couldn’t bar their entry because there was nothing in the rules that said they had to bring dates and as long as they had their tickets, she had to let them in.

Eddie took great pleasure in smiling at her as they walked into the gym.

The theme was of course Sweethearts so the gym was decked out in hearts of every size and of every shade of pink and red imaginable.

Steve chuckled as Jeff and Brian gagged. Gareth smacked them upside their heads and went off in search of punch, the other two boys shuffling behind him.

Eddie and Steve stood at the entrance a moment.

Eddie rocked back and forth on the balls on his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide how never he felt. “So what do you do at a dance when you can’t dance with the one you want to?”

Steve looked over at him and tilted his head. “Make yourself as big a menace as possible, of course.”

Eddie grinned as Steve grabbed his wrist and they melted into the crowd.

~

About an hour into it, Eddie led Steve away from all the loud music and sweltering mass of teenage bodies.

“Eddie!” Steve protested with a laugh. “Where are you taking me?”

Eddie just cackled and kept pulling him along. They got the drama room and Steve was amazed he could hear the music.

“How?” he whispered.

Eddie grinned again. “They have speakers in here from the gym. They’re usually turned off as some brave stage crew managed to figure out a way to stop it from streaming in so kids could practice their lines and shit and not have to listen to basketball scores, but I got someone to turn them on for us.”

Steve turned to him in shock. “Us?”

Eddie nodded and led Steve further into the drama room. It was decorated in fairy lights and sparkling hearts.

“Oh, Eds...” Steve breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“I paid one of the drama kids to do this for me so I could surprise you,” he murmured.

Just then a soft love song came over the speakers and he held out his hand to Steve. “Dance with me.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle and folded into Eddie’s arms. They danced cheek to cheek to the music and were still dancing slowly when the song changed to something more upbeat.

“I was so worried I couldn’t dance with you up there,” he murmured into Eddie’s ear, “and then you went and found a way for us to do it down here instead. God, I love you so much, sunshine.”

They kissed and danced until the announcement came over the speakers that they were crowning the prom king and queen. They walked back to the gym hand in hand.

“I tried to get myself removed from the ballot,” Steve said softly just as they reached the doors. “I told them that I didn’t want even be here, but they refused. Said that I was nominated by someone else and only they could remove from the ballot. They wouldn’t even tell me who. But then you came along and I still don’t want to be prom king, but I figured at least being here with you would be worth the price of admission.”

Eddie smiled and kissed him gently. “I think you’d look pretty in a crown, darlin’.”

Steve let out a nervous giggle. “You would.”

They let go of their hands and walk back in.

Steve made prom king. Like everyone assumed he would. And even though Billy hadn’t been on the ballot he came in second place with a lot of write-ins. Steve suspected that Billy had actually won, but as he wasn’t on the ballot and the principal not wanting it to go to a thug like Billy Hargrove had cinched Steve’s bid for the crown.

Prom queen was Tammy Thompson. Which she obviously had insider knowledge of when she broadly hinted to him to take her to prom. She even hissed about him probably wishing he had taken her when he had the chance as to not leave her poor date standing there on the sidelines.

Steve just smiled and nodded and suffered through their dance.

Once it was all done, he handed the bouquet of flowers to Jeff, the sash to Gareth and the crown to Brian.

“You’ve got nothing left, baby,” Eddie murmured as they walked out of the gym and into the darkened halls of the high school.

He gave Eddie’s hand a quick squeeze. “No, Eds. I’ve got you.”

That night after they had done all their after dance activities, they would make love in the back of the LeBaron under the stars at the quarry after they had dropped everyone else off and in the morning after they waved off the LeBaron as Wayne drove it back to the rent shop, Steve would drag Eddie back into the shelter of the trailer and kiss him senseless.

But until then, they had each other and that was enough.

~

Also if you saw this yesterday NO NO YOU DID NOT!

Tag List: COMPLETE

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @spectrum-spectre

2- @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

3- @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv

4- @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @dam28lh

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @fullpoetrybread

7- @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13

8- @skyewaytohell @swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234

9- @dotdot-wierdlife @ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself

10- @w1ll0wtr33 @kultiras @sadisticaltarts @micheledawn1975

[flowerandblood]

ONE YEAR OF FLOWER&BLOOD

✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙

Exactly one year ago I posted my first chapter of the My Best Friend series. Nowadays I think it's something awful and I don't even try to edit it because I'd have to write everything from scratch, but I've left it for people who feel attached to the story. I remember getting about six likes and one comment on the first day and that huuuuge interest made me eager to create chapter 2 and then all the others.

I remember the excitement with which I waited and then replied to comments, not believing that people were actually waiting for the next chapter. At the time I was literally not following anyone, which was good because I wasn't comparing myself to anyone.

Eventually I felt I was ready to try writing other series and a few were successful enough that I decided to stay here permanently and create because it made me happy. Up to that point, everyone had been very kind to me and I started following more and more blogs, wanting to feel part of the fandom, to make friends with everyone. Now I know that was the biggest mistake I made.

Seeing things that didn't interest me, fanfic's whose way of writing couldn't draw me in, I felt frustrated, while at the same time fearing that if I stopped following someone, that person would see it as an affront. At the same time, The Impossible Choice, my biggest project until The Fall from the Heavens (which I'm currently editing and re-editing, while inserting on AO3), began to be written.

Just when I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities (which wasn't true), I also started to clash with anonymous hate messages, probably the worst of which were those vilifying me and my husband, and those regarding my one-shot with Micheal Gavey. I know now that taking it personally and getting involved was my big mistake, and the fandom was shaken by drama that got out of hand.

I was a few steps away from deleting my blog at the time, but my husband talked me out of the idea (thankfully, as my stories aren't saved anywhere else − I'm only now moving them to AO3).

That's when I first realised that some people here I don't even like, and they probably don't like me. I wondered, why are we following each other then? Why are we pretending to have any courtesy? It was only later that I realised that to be considered someone's friend, you have to reblog their work and preferably agree with them even when they write hurtful things.

Since I've depleted my circle of those I follow to about 20 people, since I've blocked dozens of people and tags, there's been blissful silence (with the exceptions of when I write about behaviour in the fandom that I find toxic and someone accuses me of causing drama, but I'm used to it now). I've also never written happier than I do now.

Ideas come to me on their own, I don't feel uptight about what other big people will think of me, whether they reblog it, approve of it or not. I don't give a shit and life is beautiful! Although I can be emotionally unstable, I'm only 70 people short of crossing the next milestone of 3,000 followers, and that's BIG for me. It amuses me that I keep getting messages that someone is going to block me or stop following me, and you guys keep coming. It's gratifying.

I'm going to keep writing for you guys, and I'm sure during season two you'll also see my posts describing my impressions after the episodes in which I hope to involve my husband. I'll also keep you updated here on how I'm doing with my book I'm creating in my private life.

Apreciation

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

Ange. I know that sometimes I'm fucked up, but I want you to know that you've made this place so much more bearable for me that I can't imagine it without you. What I appreciate most about you is that you can talk and discuss, that you always try to understand the other side, that you are empathetic, warm and kind. I feel that, like friends in everyday life, we can also tell each other about things we disagree about, and there are not many people like that here.

On top of that, you are very talented and your stories are always a pleasure to read, even when they are short, you are able to build the plot and atmosphere perfectly, something I have always admired. Thank you for every kind word and understanding.

I still remember your first message to me via ask, referring to the fact that I didn't want to write a pairing with a mermaid because someone else was writing about it at the same time. My heart melted then, it was so nice!

@targaryenrealnessdarling

Liz, Queen of Angst! Your calmness and composure puts me in awe. You're disgustingly talented when it comes to writing and you have a super-sweet personality. When you started following me I began to squirm with delight, and when you started reblogging my stuff? My goodness!!!

@persephonerinyes

You've been engaging and reblogging my stories for as long as I can remember. Always involved, your thoughts make me smile. Thank you for being with me for so long!

@zenka96

You've been here with me since the dawn of time. You know that I love you. Your support from the very beginning really makes me feel like I have a friend here.

@huramuna

I am so proud of you! I remember your asks when I wrote Glass Cuts Deepest, your illustrations for me and your uncertainty about whether you should start writing yourself. I'm so happy for you and that you are so successful! You deserved it.

@black-dread & @aegonx

You are my favourite gif makers. Your work always leaves me in awe, you are amazing! I know how much work you put into it and somehow you make even the worst lit scenes look wonderful!

@summerposie; @0eessirk8; @melsunshine; @immyowndefender; @bellaisasleep; @kckt88; @thedamewithabook; @happinessinthebeing; @queenofshinigamis; @travelingmypassion; @mefools; @fan-goddess; @toodlesxcuddles; @ammo23; @troublesomesnitch; @mariahossain; @out-of-life; @apothe-roses; @heavenhatesme; @whitearemydarkestnight; @liv-cole; @blackswxnn; @echos-muses; @watercolorskyy; @at-a-rax-ia; @tssf-imagines; @snh96; @hiatuswhore; @exitpursuedbyavulcan; @darylandbethfanforever9; @the-dendrophile-bookdragon; @opheliaas-stuff @zaldritzosrose

Your comments and reblogs make me want to keep writing. You make me laugh, you comfort me and you support me. I know I'm definitely forgetting someone, but I want you to know that I love everyone who comments on my stories and there is nothing better for me than responding to your reactions and questions! I have known some of you for so many months that I truly consider you my good friends!

lottie-blue-star; aveatquevale-; aemondtargaryenwifey marvelescvpe; alphard-hydraes-blog; herejusttostan; li0nn3stuff; alexandrawho; vilmakamunen; angelinap09; theloveablestargirl; rose-blue-19; xxxkat3xxx; flosaureum; mandiiblanche; librawh0re; jasminecosmic99; ivvypg; rojocarnation; killmanduh; tokkiiidoll; wolfdressedinlace; angelofvivianne; nina2697; starwarsgirlsimmer1; katsucker; ipostwhtifeel; aemondsdelight; ilswemoon; tigrigri; pasta-rask; roselibrary; lystargs; gemini-mama; nikstrange; tempo-rary-fix; coffeeobsessedtrencher; gwuinivyre; dreamerbythewayx; diiickbrainn; mothmankit

And everyone else I missed and whose icons I would recognize from afar. I know that you have been with me for many months, often in silence or communicating anonymously. Your silent support and presence is something wonderful for me, knowing that you have been with me for so long and read all my posts!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!

[kaciidubs]

A Pun-y Thanksgiving

❣ Summary: A random thought about Chan and terrible Thanksgiving puns. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 739 ❣ Warnings: Fluff, corny puns [2], slice of life, discussions of family, implied Black! Reader [but neutral overall], Chan gets emotional over being loved ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Christopher, Channie, and Baby, lightly edited, that plate of food was not mine but it's close enough ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

"I'll give you more than thanks tonight."

"Baby, please."

"A turkey isn't the only thing I'd like to stuff."

"Christopher, walk away from me."

"What?! You can't tell me that wasn't funny!"

"I can," you hummed, looking over your shoulder to see him leaning against the kitchen island with a cheesy grin, "and I will - that was not funny!"

"So why are you smiling?" He goaded, dimple pressing into his cheek as his grin grew.

An astonished laugh fell from your lips, though you couldn't reign in the smile that stuck to your face, "Because you're corny!"

"Or, because you did find it funny!"

"Oh my god." Turning back to the pot of boiling elbow noodles, you stirred away some of the foam, "You're gonna drive me insane before my own family does."

A pair of arms snaked their way around your waist, Chris tugging you slightly against his chest as he pressed the side of his face against yours. "You know you love me."

"I do, but if you say anything related to 'gravy', I'm leaving you here and telling my grandmother you couldn't make it to dinner."

He dramatically gasped, shaking his body with yours, "You wouldn't! I think I'll actually die without her yams this year, and Christmas is way too far away to have them again!"

You laughed, turning off the stove and grabbing the oven mitts that were on standby, "You're so whipped for her cooking - I'm surprised you haven't figured out she makes extra just for you."

"She does?" His hold on you slipped as you picked up the pot of macaroni, stepping back to let you pour it into the strainer waiting in the sink. "Since when?"

"Our second Thanksgiving together when I had to make a to-go container full of them alone, and she asked if I was making you a plate and I had to tell her that, that was your plate." You placed the empty pot back on the stove, "And I still think it's unfair because I'm her grandchild! I asked her so many times to make me a separate batch, I'd even buy her the stuff! But no, she wouldn't do it for me but anything goes for her grandson Chris!"

In the midst of your teasing rant, you hadn't noticed the silence from your boyfriend behind you until you had started the sauce mixture for the macaroni and cheese, urging you to turn around to look at him suspiciously.

"Chris?"

He gazed at you with soft eyes, an almost delicate pout set on his lips as a fine blush turned his ears red. "She likes me that much?"

Family had always been a huge factor for him, and the desire of having your entire family love him the way they loved you was something he had strived for since the first time they met. So, it was no surprise that hearing that your grandmother would go out of her way for him and his admiration for her cooking made his heart swell.

"Aw, Channie," you cooed, turning the stove to low before making quick steps over to him, your hands cupping his slightly puffed cheeks from rest. "She absolutely loves you - my whole family does! My aunts ask about you whenever they call, my younger cousins always ask to see you, and even though my uncles joke about putting you in a shallow ditch if you break my heart - they can see how much you care about me and they honestly look forward to having you around."

Guiding his head down, you placed a quick kiss on his lips, giggling when he followed you away to steal another.

"My family loves you, my extended family loves you, and you already know I love you."

His pout melted into a smile, one you embarrassingly missed for the few moments it was gone, "Even with my corny jokes?"

You rolled your eyes but nodded in agreement, "Even with your corny jokes. Now, help me finish the mac and cheese and we can start getting ready - I'm sure if we stay here longer we're gonna be the last ones to get a plate, and I'll be damned if I let my cousin get to the corn pudding first."

Slinking your way our of his arms, you took to stirring the sauce mixture before speaking over your shoulder;

"Then when we get home, I'll show you what else I'm thankful for."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Sneak peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, discussions of transness, everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 12.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Chapter 65 Sneak Peek: Lucky Gods

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes.

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path.

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of it is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting. You tremble but do not move to avoid him.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, a low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again, harder before you get a chance to speak, to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. “I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your neck, around the back near your scruff and gives it a small reassuring squeeze that only makes you feel like you're about to fall over. You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forhead against yours and closes his eyes. his spiky silver hair hitting your skin.

After a second he opens them again, nodding, and his scent looses its bitter edge. He steps closer, guiding you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat.

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around your shoulders, an anchor and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in tenderly. Because even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. the plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin’s on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you. You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery, every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm.

Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I’ll-“

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces."

Coming Saturday January 6th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest April warm-up round.

Who Will Buy My Memories?

Prompt: Taxed | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Welcome to the 90s, Fluff, Corroded Coffin on the Road

"What do you mean, I owe back taxes?" Eddie asks, pressing the receiver of the payphone closer to his ear. As if that'll make him hear Steve differently.

"The letter says you didn't pay them. They're overdue, from, like, three years ago," Steve says, and Eddie's sure that's not right. He doesn't want to pay taxes, but they do. He pays under protest. Not, like, legally. But in his heart. Point is, he pays. Jeff makes sure they all do. For sure. Surely, Eddie's hasn't slipped through the cracks. Even if Jeff missed it, Steve would have caught it when he did their personal taxes. 

"Did you call them and ask?" Eddie asks.

"Call who?" Steve questions, and Eddie can picture Steve's face scrunched up. Can hear it, somehow. He really misses him.

"The IRS."

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh, "No. I didn't call the IRS for you. For one, why would I know what your tax fuck-up entails?"

"You do our personal taxes!" Eddie interrupts, but Steve keeps talking, ignoring him

"And two? It says right in the letter that for someone else to call, you'd have to submit, like, a signed statement. Granting permission to discuss it with a third party. It's the law, Eddie."

"I'll do it. I'll do it right now," Eddie says. 

"I'm sure you would," Steve laughs, "Is Jeff there? Or Goodie? Hell, Gareth? Somebody else that might know more?"

Eddie presses the speaker into his chest, and screams across the parking lot, just as Goodie's walking back to the van, arms full of snacks and a precariously teetering six-pack of beer. 

Goodie drops the stuff on the seat, then turns and puts his hands up, in a what the fuck question, and Eddie just waves him over, frantically. He can't shout across the parking lot about this.

Luckily, Goodie starts to saunter over, but he damn well doesn't get in a hurry about it, and as soon as he's within range, Eddie shoves the phone at him, not even telling him who's on the other end.

"Steve," Goodie says, and Eddie grins, of course Goodie knew who it was without having to ask.

And then Eddie watches as Goodie listens, nodding along. Eddie has shoved his thumb in his mouth, and is biting at his nail, nervous. 

Finally, fucking finally, Goodie speaks, "Jeff filed them. I'll have him call the accountant."

And that's it. No concern about Eddie for sure getting sent to prison for tax evasion. Nothing. 

Then, he's handing the phone back, and walking away, like he has no worries over Eddie's financial well-being.

"Well?" Eddie asks, like maybe Goodie told Steve something he didn't hear first-hand. 

"Jeff filed them," Steve repeats. 

"I'm going to prison. I always knew I'd end up there, I just didn't think it'd be for something as fucking lame as not paying my taxes. I was accused of murder, if you haven't forgotten. I sold drugs. I stole an RV, once-"

"Technically, I think I stole an RV," Steve counters.

"Please, like you could hotwire a car."

"I could now. I watched you do it."

And Eddie grins, because the banter is soothing, normal. He just misses Steve a whole fucking lot while they're on the road.

Steve keeps talking.

"Taxes will get ya. Every damn time. Just ask Al Capone," Steve says drolly, not taking this situation seriously at all. 

"Steve…"

"Oh, wait," Steve says pausing, suddenly serious, and Eddie freezes, "it says right here in the fine print that they're giving you the Willie Nelson treatment. Seizing it all. The furniture. Even your guitar. Selling it all off."

"That's not funny," Eddie says, but Steve sure is laughing.

"It's a little funny," Steve says.

"It's not. Who will buy my memories, Steve? Who?" Eddie asks, and Steve's laughing in his ear, but it's not funny. So, Eddie keeps talking, "And you're wrong. They didn't get Trigger. His guitar. I read it in the paper, and if you love me, you'll hide Sweetheart if they come to the house."

"Sweetheart is with you," Steve says. 

Okay, that's true.

"Well. Fine. But the thought still stands."

"Okay, I'll hide the best of your loot, and after that, I'll expect to see you on an infomercial, shilling an album to pay off this alleged debt."

"That wouldn't be very metal, shilling my art between Jack Lalanne and Ron Popeil."

"Then pay your taxes in full and on time," Steve snarks.

"I did!" Eddie argues. He's sure he did. 

"Does it say how much I'm on the hook for?" Eddie asks. It can't be that much, because while they're doing pretty good right now, they're not, like, rolling in the cash. Not yet. They're still traveling by van. A nicer van, sure, but still a van. 

"It doesn't," Steve says, but then his voice goes soft and kind again, "It'll be fine," he promises, "It's probably a small error. No big deal. Just. Don't ignore it. Okay? I'm officially putting this in the 'actually pay attention to' pile."

"I will. We will," Eddie promises. 

"Good. Now, tell me about South Bend," Steve teases, and Eddie looks around. Steve always asks, and Eddie always tells him something mundane, something true.

"Well. I miss you," Eddie says. "And someone drew a dick on the glass of the phone booth," Eddie offers.

"Is it a good dick?" Steve questions. 

"Not really," Eddie admits, "not as good as yours."

"Oh, the charm," Steve says dryly, and Eddie leans his head against the glass, against the Sharpie'd-on aforementioned dick. They only have tonight's show here in South Bend, and then another two days from now in Fort Wayne, and then they'll be home for a whole month. He can't fucking wait.

"Anything else of note? Besides the dick?" Steve asks.

"Well, it's in this state called Indiana. I'm not sure if you've ever been…" Eddie trails off. 

"Sounds familiar," Steve flirts and Eddie smiles.

They're almost home. Just a few more days.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

The title is a play on Willie Nelson's actual album he made to pay off his IRS debt: The IRS Tapes: Who'll Buy My Memories?

[sanemisstalker]

I descend from yuri heaven with a message from god, she says you need to be hornier on main about women, she also requested Fem!reader x Mitsuri, not me I'm just a humble messanger it's god's will

Listen!!! Listennnnnn, I struggle to write about women because I get like, pussy mind fog. I think about vag, and I become a dumb slut, and it's impacts my writing so all of it sounds like I have my hand down my pants :'p

(Also I may or may not have a multi part Shinobu cuck thing in the works, you never know XP )

Regardless, my boss gave me a Victoria's Secret gift card for my birthday, and I'm very excited to use it, but you know who I'd loveeee to go bra shopping with???

:)

NSFW CW// FEM/AFAB/BREASTED READER/ Public sex / Implied Flashing / Dom/Sub dynamics / Ownership

"I don't think they'll have it in my size." Mitsuri fretted, running her hands over the baby doll piece in search of a tag. "I mean, look! These are all so small!" She groaned as she rustled toward the back of the wall.

The item was lace and string, all pillowy and pink, and you'd desecrate the world to see your loving girlfriend in such an item. With a sheer pink fabric split by a thick line, you knew all she'd be able to talk about, the entire time, would be the way it rubbed her.

You were doing your best not to wear your thoughts on your face or verbalize them. This wasn't a date, Mitsuri had pointed out. It was a girl's night out, but fuck were you praying it'd end with her legs around your head because this was torture.

It was your third lingerie store, and she'd purchased something in every. Single. One. Insisting that you not only help her get into each item, but that you help her take it off. The last five hours of your life had been an edging game the likes of which Satan himself couldn't conceive.

It was very easy for Mitsuri to conceive, though. After all, it was a punishment of sorts. You'd gone out clubbing and slutting without her while she rotted away on an art project, an unforgivable betrayal. You swore you only kissed girls while you were out, but that gave Mitsuri no peace of mind. Especially not when she'd gotten a call a day later with a rather unsavory tone.

This was intentional torture, even if it was really hard when you looked so cute and pliant, Mitsuri had reserved herself. She had made her intentions clear (to herself) and was going to stick to them, no matter how hard you whined or begged.

"Ah!" Mitsuri bounced. You swore your eyes were going to pop out of your sockets, and your uterus with them. "Perfect!" She plucked from closer to the back, revealing the full expanse of the abysmal amount of fabric.

"That's really cute." You croaked, doing your best to be girl friend and not girl friend. You resorted to biting your fingers as Mitsuri turned back to the racks. "Under or over?"

"If I pair it with that pink sweater dress I have, it'll probably look really cute over, but it might give me a back ache if im trying to dance." She worried. "I wouldn't want to wear a bra underneath, and if I don't wear a bra, I can't just wear the matching panties-"

'Fuck, she knows what she's doing.' The thought finally donned on you, and you felt sweat begin to form.

Mitsuri wasn't very... dominate. She wasn't predisposed to it, and you found when you asked, she wasn't necessarily the most... capable. She was a very gentle lover, but occasionally, she'd get this... look on her face.

The last time you'd seen it, you were at a fourth of july party with her friends, not yours. You'd laid eyes on her 'friend' Tengen, or rather he laid eyes on you, and while Mitsuri caught up, you and the man discussed... Music, probably, you couldn't remember. It was platonically intentioned, all things considered.

Though you and Mitsuri were quite open, she was... prone to bouts of jealousy. Just here and there. Nothing extreme, but her measures she would take in response were.

The night had ended with you by the bonfire, Tengen watching with one of his, apparently three, girlfriends, as Mitsuri had knocked you on your ass and fingered you open. She'd began probing you about whether or not you wanted his dick- wanted to be in his supposed harem of women. Obviously, since you were having such a chummy time with the man, that was your desire.

She wouldn't let up until you began sobbing, only capable of sputtering out her name and well meaning apologies. She told you to recall who you belonged to- The gap was so stunting you couldn't help but heed the advice.

And she had that look there, and she had it here, and it made your knees weak with remembrance. A thin smile that made you feel like a deer in wait, pulled over, low cast eyes like that of a lynx, and then her motions. The typical Mitsuri motions filled with grace and leisure had become sultry- deliberately tempting you at every turn and flex.

Oh, you realized, you were a fucking moron. A fucked fucking moron.

You, of course, couldn't remember your blatant sins. So when she got that call from Tengen, his voice intentionally goading and laugh particularly grating, Mitsuri gathered herself and decided today wasn't going to be a very good day...

For you, that is. She'd been reeling at the way you were looking at her all day, basking in the almost dopey, lost look on your face, and that insatiable stare. She had to hold back her giggles everytime you clenched your thighs together in search of reprieve. Had to keep her mouth shut when she'd intentionally grazed your nipple while holding up a bra to your chest. You'd nearly whimpered.

She was having a whale of a time with her own antics.

"You know, we should get you something. I've always wanted to go to a rave- and dress like those rave girls! They look super cool, don't you think?"

"The like- the like string bikini ones?" You sounded like you were on your fifth day through the Sahara, this you knew. You couldn't help it. The realization had made you all the more desperate, and the image of your girlfriend in even less?

"I think I'd just wear pasties, I don't know though; I might get a little shy." She'd giggle.

"What for? You're... you have nothing to be shy about." You wanted her. You needed her. She was being deliberately cruel, how exciting.

"You don't either!" Mitsuri rushed, feeling the urge to let up on you rear its head. She stomped it out quickly, thinking about Tengen's daunting tone. "Y-You know what we should do- we should get matching pieces, don't you think?" She posed.

"Matching?" You returned.

"Yes!" Mitsuri didn't give you time to process, instead dragging you to the other side of the racks.

There was slutty, and then there was string. Mitsuri had done herself a favor in picking out something that, though it left little to the imagination, still required a bit of maneuvering to get by-

The item she pulled off the rack for you would be gone in a snip. You couldn't even fathom what it was at first-

Thin strings, all that gathered to thin even further at your pussy, each nipple only garnered with a bow akin to that on the front of a pair of panties- nowhere near enough to even cover a fraction of your nipple- anything and everything would spill in such an item.

An icey, silver tear drop dangled where your clit would sit.

You gaped.

"This is so cute!" Mitsuri flushed, doing another unnecessary bounce.

"O-on me?" You stuttered.

"Of course! Come on! Let's go try them on!"

Mitsuri had you corned in the changing room in seconds, her intentions all too clear in the rush of her motions. With the strings and lace still swaying on the hook, The top you'd been wearing had been essentially ripped off, the sudden rush of cold air hardening your already stiff nipples.

"M-Mits-"

"Hm?" She interrupted, already tugging down your jeans. As you went to step out of them, Mitsuri grabbed your leg with a steel grip. You froze in place.

"B-baby, are you- are you mad at me?" You whispered.

"Mad? Oh honey, I'm not mad." Mitsuri assured. "Well, maybe a little peeved, but I'm not mad."

"What'd I- what'd I do?" She just giggled in response, the daunting noise going right to your pussy. "Baby, please tell me what i-"

"You remember Tengen, right?"

"T- what does this have to do with Tengen?"

"You remember," Mitsuri said, spinning you around. Her hands caught in the waist band of your panties and gave them a violent, exposing, and all too audible rippppppp, "Him and his girlfriends? How he had three of them?"

"Yeah-? I remember, yes." You clarified, fearing your unsure tone would drive her actions further. Mitsuri ripped further through your panties, exposing your wet inner thighs and begging cunt to her unforgiving eye.

"You remember when you went out the other night while I was slaving away over some wax pieces?"

"Y-yes- I- I didn't even see Tengen there, if that's what you're asking- I- I told you I only kissed some girls-"

"Did you stop and question... their names by any chance?"

"No- no I didnt."

"Well, I got the funniest call, Y/N!" She reasoned, slipping a hand between your legs, "Tengen rang me, oh you're dripping, he called me, and I got told something so funny."

"F-funny?"

"You actually made out with his girlfriends! All three of them! Isn't that funny?" Her tone made it inherently unfunny. You knew she found no comedic value in such a thing.

"I-I didn't mean to do th-that."

The fitting room is silent as she ties on the sorry excuse for lingerie. It sits uncomfortably on your exposed nipples, clit now bedazzled and starring at you- almost like a target. Mitsuri stands behind you in the mirror, face presenting warm but feeling cold.

"So Tengen calls me-" Two fingers jam into your core. A pain rockets up your cunt that makes your legs threaten to give out. You can't stop the yelp, even with your hands flying up to your lips.

"He- he did?"

"He calls me, and starts saying how he's having all these indirect kisses with you, and, I don't know, Y/N-" Her fingers are brutal, complete negligence of your clit driving small whimpers from your throat with each push. "I just don't know why that makes me so upset!"

She knew exactly why it made her upset, but she wanted to hear you say it. You know she did, but talking was hard when she was practically fucking you open- and infront of yourself nonetheless.

"I-I shouldn--- ngh--- ah! I should- fuck, Mi-mitsuri p- princess, please-" Mitsuri's heart swelled at the name. She pouted a bit and slowed her assault. Even granting you the gentle graze of her thumb over your peaking clit. How kind.

"What was that? Say it again?"

"I shouldn't've- I should've stayed in with you! I'm sorry, I'm so sorr- ngh!" Mitsuri stood abruptly, her fingers still tucked in your clenching pussy. She hoisted one of your legs with her. You struggled for a moment, before she took to pining you to the mirror of the dressing room.

Her fingers began another rush, your legs jolting out in response... because this time she wasn't ignoring your clit. Every bit of muscle she had in her fingers was set on rubbing your nub and fucking you deep. The teardrop shuddered with each thrust.

You were losing vision- losing the sight of her behind you-

"You should apologize for being a complete slut." She added, voice becoming all stomach, no throat. Her cherry pink braids sat atop your shoulders, ends pressed between your tits and the mirror. Mitsuri's flesh was thick and consuming- plush yet intimidating.

It was times like this where you were reminded that Mitsuri could do whatever she wanted to you, whenever she so pleased. Times like this when you remembered that, no matter how many people you kissed, you belonged to somebody.

You were really happy about that, in a weird way. Your pussy was especially happy- Even if it was proving more than difficult to fill her requests at a socially acceptable noise level for a fitting room.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm a slu- nghh! I'm sorry I'm a slut!" You tried to whisper, failing tremendously and sounding so much like the thing you were apologizing for being. The position you'd be splayed in had completely freed your breasts from their miniscule confines. Your warm nipples rubbed against the cold glass-

The build bubbled in your stomach. Thin fingers threaded your hair. A quick spin of her wrist formed a leash. You were yanked back only far enough to see the full expanse of your face- of your pussy getting ruined by her fingers.

The sight of it pushed you over the edge. Mitsuri's fingers worked gushes of cum from your pussy. With one ankle still locked in your pants, you shivered as your cum ran down- wetting the fabric.

You twitched against the mirror. Mitsuri dropped your leg and moved to your waist.

You whimpered as she pulled your pants up over the lingerie. The fabric was drenched- you'd been insanely loud. Even as Mitsuri pulled your top back on, the bows were so present through the miniscule fabric of your shirt-

You were a slut.

As Mitsuri guided you to the cashier with her arm around your waist, you turned blood red.

"Princess, I c-"

"Hi! Did you all-" The cashiers words cut off immediately, seeing the state you're in. Her face paled, and she lost control of her eyes. She took in everything- From the way your nipples stood at high alert, to your deerish way of walking in your came on jeans-

"Everything is great! She'd going to wear it out if that's alright?" Mitsuri pushed you forward, the tag for the strings just barely hanging out the side of your jeans.

With hesitance, the cashier, who already held the scanner, scanned the item. Mitsuri handed her the lingerie she'd picked out for herself, and as the seond item rang up, her face dropped further.

"We-we're actually having a two for one s-sale. So you can- go and pick something else out for free, if you'd like."

You looked over to Mitsuri, whose eyes grew wide with a joy only predators could experience. You swore you felt your ovaries shake at the sight.

Her hand found perch on the band of your wet jeans-

"Oh! Do you have this one in pink?-"

[helaelaemond]

Who Else Is Gonna Put Up With Me This Way? - Billy Washington x reader

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: You’re in an unstable relationship with Billy Washington - you've broken up with him countless times, and he's found himself back between your thighs again. This time, though, it's for real. But you're the one thing worth fighting for.

Dark!Billy, dub-con, possessive Billy, fingering, penetrative sex (f receiving), rough treatment, degradation.

Warnings: mentions of rape (none committed), mentions of domestic abuse (none committed by Billy, reader slaps him), discussions of Islamophobia,

Rating: E

Word count: 2.9k

Based on the results from this poll. Doing it for the girls gays and theys!

tagging those who showed interest: @tssf-imagines / @slytherincursebreaker / @humanpurposes / @arcielee / @elizarbell / @heimtathurs / @ewanmitchellcrumbs / @targaryenrealnessdarling / @valeskafics

"What are y'doing?"

You shove past him and storm into the bedroom, grabbing a bag from the wardrobe and dropping it onto the bed. "I'm done. I'm fucking done."

"Are you serious?" Billy stands in the doorway with a red face and thin lips, watching you with wide eyes.

You spit the answer back at him. "Does it look like I'm joking?" You grab whatever you can from the draws next to your side of the bed and shove them into your bag without looking.

"Over this?"

"This? This? You've lost your fucking mind! I don't recognise you anymore!"

"Oh, c'mon, I was drunk, and no one got hurt-!"

"Those people woke up to find they've been victims of your stupidity, all because you believe bullshit you've read-"

"Give me a fucking break!" He slams his hand on the door frame, and his eyes blaze.

"You hitting that because you want to hit me?"

Billy slinks over to you and rips the bag from your hand. "Don't act like I'd ever lay a hand on you; you know I wouldn't."

"I don't know what you'd do anymore," you answer defiantly. "I didn't think you'd ever smash up a Muslim butchers, yet here we are!"

"For fuck's sake! Who cares? No one got hurt!"

You wrench the bag from his hands and throw in a couple of tops and trousers, before pushing past him to the bathroom. He dogs your steps.

"They're real people; you know that, right?"

"I'm sure they're insured. Everyone knows those people are tight with their money. Got their own banks with special rules and everything."

"Those people? Your brain's been rotted by those fucking pigs you call friends! I don't even recognise you half the time!" After grabbing your toiletries, you're back in the bedroom packing up phone chargers, your earring box, your hairbrush. Whatever you need for a few nights, before you come back to get the rest of your stuff.

He keeps close to you. Threatening you. Shadowing you. He's so tall. You hate him. You fucking love him. That's why this is so hard.

"I'm still me," he says lowly.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"How?"

"Get rid of those cunts rewiring your brain, and start giving a fuck about people again."

His lip twitches and he catches your arm, pulling you close to him. "I care about you."

With more strength than you realise you have, you press your hands against his chest and escape his clutches. "Not enough."

He follows you when you go into the living room. It's messy, covered in beer cans and food containers and papers and cables, and you let out a shout of frustration. "I hate it here! I fucking hate it!"

"If you hate it so much, why do you keep coming back?" he thunders.

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come. You know why. He knows why. It's pathetic, really. But you can't quit him. He poisons your life, and God, you love the way it tastes.

Fury flashes in his pretty eyes, the eyes that capture you every time. He smirks, but there's no humour in it. "That's what I thought. Can't stay away, can you? You know you're mine."

"Don't play that game," you warn.

"S'not a game."

Billy steps closer to you again, and something akin to dread rushes through you. "No, it's not. So fuck off."

"D'you hate me?"

You glare up at him. There's fire in you now, fire in your belly, in your eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"Liar."

You suddenly slap him, and he grunts as his head is knocked to the side. God, it feels good to do that. Even when he turns to look at you in shock, in disgust, it feels good. "I hate you."

When he grabs you by the waist and shoves you against the wall, it's not a surprise. That doesn't make it any less of a thrill. He runs his nose up your neck and inhales deeply. "So if I shove my hand against your pussy, I'll find you dry?"

"Don't fucking touch me!" You hit his chest to try to get him away from you, but he's stronger. He doesn't go to the gym anymore, but he's stronger. You grab his hair and pull, but he's stronger.

"This is what you want, huh?" His large hands push up your shirt and grasp without care at your breasts. It hurts. It's good. "To pretend you hate me and pretend you don't want this?"

"I don't want it!" A half lie. You shouldn't want it. You know you shouldn't.

"Oh yeah?" he grunts. One hand wraps around your throat, finger and thumb pressing against the edge of your jaw, and the other slips under your waistband. You clench your legs together in response - but he's stronger. The heat between them betrays you, and he wedges his fingers between your folds to find slickness gathering there. "Sure feels like you want it."

"That's got fuck all to do with you."

His eyebrows are raised as he looks down at you, towering tall. Sandy hair flops messily over his eyes, unkempt and greasy. He's disgusting. But you chase his hand.

"I think you like me like this." Dropping his voice, he runs his finger around your clit, as if you're in any way ready for that.

"Like what?" you hiss. "A fucking rapist?"

"No one's getting raped, baby. You want this. You want me to force you to stay."

"No, I don't!" But you grab his wrist to hold it in place. For a moment, it seems like he's taking your words to heart and so his fingers still, but you hold him fast to make sure they stay where they are.

Looking into your face, he grins coldly. "You're such a slut, aren't you? You gonna come on my fingers?"

"You wish! You couldn't make me come now if you tried."

The fingers on your throat tighten slightly, and they apply pressure to the thick veins under your skin. He will be able to feel how quick your pulse is getting. Billy leans his close facer to yours. "You think anyone will be able to make you feel like I do?"

You shake your head slightly. "No. That's the point."

"Hmm." His lip twitches in anger. And then his fingers are pressing against your soft folds, digging it, dragging nails down them, and your stifled groan makes his eyes glint. "You love being used however I want."

"No, I don't. I'm not your thing to play with."

Then, his hands are gone, and he presses the length of his body against yours, and you're trapped tight between him and the wall, and it feels crushing, it's overwhelming, it's stifling-

Billy bites your ear and blows into it. It makes your nipples hard. "Yes, you are. Always have been." He rolls his hips against you, and it presses his half-hard cock against your stomach. As you clench around nothing, a shiver runs through your body. Of course, he notices, and he grins. "See? You want me to use you like the whore you are."

"I'm not a whore," you rasp. "You never fucking paid me."

"Maybe I should have done. You suck my cock like a porn star. All needy and whimpering like you can't live without it."

"Get off me!"

But you grasp the back of his shirt and claw at the skin at the base of his spine. It's so soft there, the gentle peach fuzz comforting under your fingertips. He's still Billy, somewhere underneath it all. Maybe. He presses harder. It's difficult to breathe.

Messily, he licks against your ear and groans. The obscene sound makes your eyes roll back."You leave this flat, you're never coming back."

"Then let me go."

"Never."

You drag your nails over his skin. Red welts are left in the wake. "You're a monster."

"What does that make you, then?" Billy asks with a dry chuckle.

"Stop trying to turn this into a game."

He pulls back to look at you with hooded eyes, lips parted. "I already told you, this in't a game."

"Even if it was, you'd lose." Something comes over you, and you spit in his face. "Fucking loser. Freak."

It makes him snarl. It makes him rough. With all his strength, he turns you to face the wall and shoves down your trousers, your underwear. You can barely spread your legs before he slaps between them, a hard hand grasping your cunt from behind. He squeezes and you yelp in pain. A strong arm is pinned across the back of your shoulders to keep you in place.

Then he squeezes your clit. At this angle, it's caught between two fingers while his thumb shoves against your entrance. It stings, the pressure, but it's worse when he takes his touch away. "If I'm a freak, you're the pathetic slut who wants to get fucked. God, you can't help it, can you? Getting this wet for me?" You can hear him inhale deeply, and the wet noises of him licking your taste off his fingers. You struggle slightly against his firm hold, but it's half-hearted. More than anything, you just want him to touch you again. "God, you taste so good. You ready to take me like the little fuck toy you are?"

"No," you lie, again and again. "Billy, don't you dare-!"

With knees bent, he pushes down his grey joggers and pulls his cock free, and slides between your thighs from behind. "No one's gonna treat you like this."

"You're a fucking monster!" Leaning forward, you press your forehead against the wall. You clamp your legs shut and trap his cock between them, and he responds by shoving you harder against the wall.

"And you're a cunt. My cunt, every dripping inch of it. Spread your legs."

"Make me."

Billy twists the arm on your back to grab your hair instead. The pull on it hurts, makes your spine arch uncomfortably, and a needy whimper escapes you. Fuck. He doesn't need to know how good he's making you feel.

"That's all you ever want, isn't it?" he whispers against your ear. "Me to take away every last bit of your control until you're nothing but a fuck toy for me."

Having your head pulled back this far makes it hard to speak. Between your thighs, his cock can't move, and you can tell how irritated it's making him. "I don't want anything from you."

"Open your mouth."

Your lip curls. Even with your hair wrapped around his hand, you manage to shake your head. Insolence isn't kindly received, and so rough hands suddenly straighten you up and flip you so your back is against the wall again. His hand goes back to your face and he presses against your cheeks until it hurts so bad you can't do anything but open your jaw. Without hesistating, Billy spits into it, heavy eyes watching your mouth. It makes your knees fucking weak.

You want to whimper. You want to swallow. Every part of him is sacred, and you want to consume him whole. At any other time, you would.

His voice is a murmur. "Swallow."

To let you do it, he lets go of your jaw, but his touch does not stray far. It finds its place on your throat, hoping to feel you obey him. Instead, you spit his taste out onto the floor. He doesn't like that.

"You stupid bitch." Suddenly, his fingers are buried back against your cunt and he rubs cruel and wide circles around your clit, fingers digging into soft and swollen flesh.

So, you grab his flushed balls and squeeze and he yelps in surprise, in pain. The hand at your throat shoves your head against the wall. The other leaves your heated core and shoves down your trouers and underwear until theyre at your ankles. Whether you would allow him or not, he takes them off completely, and as he bends down to do so, you wonder if he'll kiss your cunt.

Billy looks at it with longing in his eyes, but then he glances up at your face and the softness is gone. "Don't even need me to spit on you here, do you? You're so wet already."

"Nothing to do with you," you lie again.

"You need me."

"I'd rather die."

With more strength than seems possible, he looms over you and hooks his arm under one thigh. It makes you reach up onto your toe desperately, and then his blunt head is pressing against you. He holds it there for a moment, a threat, a promise. "Say you need me."

You squrim away from him half-heartedly. It makes you sick to your stomach that he's right. "I hate you!"

"Say it!"

One hand grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks. The other claws at the small of his back in an attempt to pull him closer. And then he does. The intrusion hurts in the best way. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your throat refusing to let the noise escape.

And then he moves.

Billy is relentless in his pace, slamming into you over and over again. He doesn't give you time to adjust, time to relax, he just takes and takes and takes.

"Mine," he grunts, voice shaking.

"No," you choke.

"Yes."

"Fucking bastard!"

Billy kisses your mouth messily before you have a chance to turn away. It's sloppy, wet, desperate. His tongue presses roughly past your teeth and it makes your stomach tighten. But still, you turn your face away to deny him, so he covers your cheek and neck in hot kisses instead.

"Mine," he grunts again against your ear.

"Not anymore."

He returns his hand to your cunt again and as he keeps a steady and fast pace that makes sweat break out on his brow, he rubs you fiercely. It makes your hands clench into fists.

"I'll keep you forever," he promises. His words are punctuated with rough thrusts. "I own you."

Words are so beyond you now. He's rough, he's possessive, and he's fucking right. You fling an arm around the back of his neck and hold him close as he fucks you like it's the first time, the last time. His pace gets faster, more erratic, and then the tell-tale gasps begin to come.

"Don't you dare!" you cry out.

"With me," he answers breathlessly.

"Make me!"

You feel him nod as you hold him close. He licks your ear, making your heart rush in your cunt, and he moans for you just as you like. It drives you higher along with his hand, and then there it is, that pressure in your stomach, the tension between your thighs that pushes you higher.

"Shit, shit, Billy, yes, yes-!"

"With me," he begs. "Cum with me, baby."

"No!" Yes. Yes, cum with him, please, please, please-

"That's it, ah-! Fuck, like that, baby, keep-! Fuck, I'm-!"

Billy's hips stutter and he shoves them against yours as his thights tremble. His orgasm forces him to his toes, and his hand shakes against your clit. It washes over him again and again, and as the last of his seed spurts inside you, you follow him into oblivion. This time, your scream is not silent.

Against the wall, he holds you safely. Your heartbeats are matched as your chests press together, only thin layers of cotton separating your skin there. Your breathing is in time with his, too. In, out. In, out.

He kisses your neck. It makes you squirm. "Let me go."

Carefully, he pulls out of you and sets your leg down. Smiling softly at you, he kisses your forehead. Already you can feel his seed trickling out of you, and it turns your stomach. You can't be here a second longer. It's fine, you can shower later, get his stench of you.

You'll never be free of it.

"I need you," he murmurs as you pull your underwear and trousers back on. Now, his touches are soft and searching, petting your hair. You slap his hand away. He frowns. "I'll never leave you, you know?"

"I know." You might escape his presence, but he has taken root in your heart, for good or evil. "But it's done."

His trousers are back over his hips, and as he ties the string, he looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"I'm done with you, Billy. I know you love me, every inch of my soul, but it's not enough anymore."

Large hands grasp yours. He winds his fingers through yours, and you let him. "You're my one true love. You can't go."

"You can't stop me."

And then his face darkens. Your lips part, and slowly, his eyes open, he kisses you on your open mouth. Pulling away, he smiles slightly and it doesn't spread kindly across his face. "I can."

"What're you gonna do, Billy? Tie me to the fucking bed?"

His hands return to the laces of his trousers, and as if he's not even thinking about it, he undoes them and begins pulling them through the waistband. Your stomach drops. And he takes your wrist, and kisses it. "If that's what it takes. I'll keep you forever. I own you."

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Could you write boyfriend young Tony Stark annoying the reader with his antics while she's trying to work on her assignments with prompt 71. “you’re so annoying” - “would I still be annoying eating you out?”. And then she puts his mouth to good work lol 😋

Delicious Distraction

PAIRING || Boyfriend!Young!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || 1K

SUMMARY || Tony should be studying for an upcoming exam, but he can't focus when you're in his dorm room, looking beautiful in your short summer dress and your tattoo's on display. How could he not get distracted when his favorite person is only a few feet away from him, looking like a snack he could devour for hours?

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Canon divergence. Established relationship. Reader is described as tattooed. Explicit sexual content.

SMUT || Referenced/implied somnophilia. Daddy kink. Hair pulling. Praise. Begging. Teasing. Fingering. Oral (F receiving). Squirting. Cumming untouched. Aftercare.

A/N || This is written for my Summer of Drabbles. Nonnie, I cannot thank you enough for inspiring this (not so little) story, as it has quickly turned into one of my favorites! This is not proofread; any and all mistakes are my own. I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for drooling over this with me, as writing it wouldn't have been the same without your endless support and love! 🤍

Photo: Source || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Young!Tony Stark || Summer of Drabbles

Ever since you woke up this morning - with Tony's head buried between your thighs, no less - he has not been able to stop looking at you. It has gotten to the point where it feels like he's burning a hole into the back of your head with his staring.

While you're more than okay with it on any other day, the stress you're experiencing has you on edge. You're studying for one of your worst subjects, and it's not going well while Tony's sitting there and staring at you.

"I think we should take a break, Sunshine. Maybe I could give you a back massage to relieve some of your tension and then relieve some other tension, too, if you catch my drift," Tony says, readjusting himself in his pants.

"I really need to study for this, Tony, so there's no way I'm taking a break anytime soon. If I don't get through this exam, I will fail, and I cannot fail this class!" you tell him, annoyance slipping into your tone. You don't mean for it to happen, but it's out before you can stop yourself.

"Well, I could help you study if you ask nicely. I will even let you sit on my lap if you want," he tells you teasingly, and while you're trying not to fall for his words and charm, you can't help it as you smile, but you quickly turn your back so he doesn't see it - you do not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's right.

"You're so annoying," you tell him, though there's no annoyance in your voice this time. Tony chuckles at your words, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

"Hmm, would I still be annoying eating you out?"

The words slipped off his tongue as casually as if he were discussing the weather. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your interest is piqued right away. After a short consideration, you consider your boyfriend's question, seeing how you need some much-needed stress relief.

It doesn't take long for Tony to be lying on his stomach between your spread thighs, his hands tracing over the intricate inks covering them as he places a trail of soft kisses over your inner thighs.

"I can't believe I got so lucky with you, Sunshine. You're such a beautiful, smart, loving, and amazing girl that I'm proud to call mine. Love you so fucking much," he tells you between the kisses until his warm breath is ghosting over your wet core.

"T-Tony," you whimper, needing some friction of any kind. No matter if it's from his tongue, fingers, or otherwise, it feels like you're about to explode if he doesn't relieve some of your building tension soon.

"Nuh-uh, that's not what I want you to call me, Sunshine. You know better than that," he tells you, and another whimper leaves your lips, impatience starting to show through.

"Daddy, please!"

This time, a satisfied hum leaves your boyfriend's lips, and he decides to give in to your pleas. His tongue darts out to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit, making you moan loudly while your back arches into his face.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his lips wrap around your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking on it as incoherent moans and sounds fall from your lips as your hands are looking to grab anything to hold onto.

While one of your hands is fisted into the sheets, your other is holding on tightly to your boyfriend's hair, pulling him closer. While his mouth is being put to good use, he suddenly wraps his arms around your thighs from underneath, lifting your legs and pulling you closer once more while your hips are at a much better angle.

"Daddy, please, 'm c-close!" you beg. The current angle has his tongue going even deeper as his nose nudges your clit, the pleasure building inside you as if it's about to burst with the smallest of movements.

His hips are also moving over the sheets, the fabric giving him the right amount of pressure and relief he needs on the underside of his thick, veiny cock as he's chasing his orgasm as well as yours.

He lets one of your thighs go, instead using his fingers to work you even higher, and the moment he slips two of his firm, thick fingers into your dripping, soaked pussy, you're falling over the edge.

With a loud moan and a tug at your boyfriend's hair, you're trembling in his hold as he drinks all the fluids that are squirting from you, the force of your orgasm making you go limp in his arms while Tony rides out his orgasm, too.

While you squirted all over the bed and his face, he came too, his seed being pumped onto the sheets as he moaned into your pussy. The pleasure is overwhelming, yet not enough at the same time while Tony takes care of you, ensuring you're not dropping suddenly from your high.

"Welcome back, Sunshine," you hear as your sight is back into focus, and for a moment, you're not sure what happened. He's lying by your side, his fingers trailing over your cheek as he looks lovingly at you.

"Shall we take a bath together before ordering dinner and doing some studying together? I'm happy to help you understand the material," he offers, and you nod, a small smile on your lips as he kisses your temple.

It doesn't take long for the bath to be drawn, and Tony gently helps you get into the warm water before taking his place behind you. His hand lies on your belly while he feeds you some raspberries with the other one.

"Ti amo, mio ​​Sole. Sei la cosa migliore che mi sia mai capitata," Tony whispers, and a rush of warmth spreads through your cheeks. You have a soft spot for him speaking in Italian and cannot get enough of it.

"Ti amo, Mi Amore," you whisper before pecking his lips a few times. The stress you felt earlier has melted away as you're comfortable in the warm water and in your boyfriend's arms.