#and That is not constructive criticism. it's just straight up mean

[hairmetal666]

Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.

The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.

And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.

They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."

"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.

With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.

He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.

Instead.

Instead it's easy.

Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.

They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.

But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.

They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.

The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.

It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.

A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.

The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"

"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."

Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.

"Okay," Eddie says.

"Okay."

Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.

He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.

They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.

It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.

As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--

All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.

They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.

It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.

The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.

Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.

He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.

Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.

"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.

"I've been insane about you since the trade."

Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."

It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"

He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."

"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."

[parkitaco]

i had to go look up what you're talking about lmao but like the anon was obviously a mean spirited asshole but you straight up asked people to tell you their opinion on your steve voice....

yk what anon i see where ur coming from but i also said be nice. and that's a real fucking easy thing to do. so you can fuck off too <3

[ittybittytoasty]

wanted to be brave and share more poetry this year

[jkslipppiercing]

Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk

♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?

♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.

♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙

♧ WC: 1.6K

♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee

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JK's POV

She whines,

Throws tantrums,

Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,

And I still want her lips around my cock.

Why?

That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.

I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.

She ruined my night.

I was fucking.

Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.

But then, she just had to cock-block me.

My best friend’s sister.

Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.

Usually, I love brats.

My type.

They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.

Keyword: try.

Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.

Fucked right and put in her place.

Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.

Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.

She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.

Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.

When I first met her, I mean.

She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.

Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.

Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.

Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.

He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.

He's a friend. A close one.

A tolerable one.

That can't be said about a certain someone, though.

She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.

Bullshit.

And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.

Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.

Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.

That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.

His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.

Sly motherfucker.

Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.

Annoyingly soft features.

So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.

But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.

It's her innocence.

How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?

When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.

She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.

I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.

Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.

Fuck, I hate this woman.

Hate everything about her.

How she moves.

How she walks.

How she fucking talks.

Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.

No- not like- is.

She is a brat.

A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.

Including mine.

Fuck.

Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.

She's enjoying herself.

Not for long.

I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.

I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.

I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.

He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.

Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.

Ew.

He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.

Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.

My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.

My blood boils.

White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.

My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.

Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.

Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.

Isn't she here with friends?

How could they leave her alone like this?

Her brother's here. Her brother is here.

My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.

Fuck.

I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.

Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?

Like she's not even aware of where she is.

Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.

Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.

I might punch a wall.

My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.

She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.

It's adorable.

But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.

Repress.

"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."

She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.

My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.

My breathing turns heavy again.

Repress.

"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.

His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.

Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.

"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.

She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.

If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?

I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-

Repress.

My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.

"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"

The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.

Good. Bare minimum.

I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.

Almost.

But I have to get Y/N home.

I can't stand this anymore.

I can't stand her anymore.

Coming here alone? Dressed like that?

I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.

How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?

I'm so goddamn confused.

And infuriated.

And...angry.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.

Fuck me.

The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.

But again, Y/N's more important.

I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.

My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.

I might develop heart problems.

A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.

I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.

I have other things to care for.

Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.

God, It's gonna be a long night.

@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotes @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma @yourbobaeyestell

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[thoughtless-muse]

“for whom the tongue craves to taste,” [d.d]

“the cdc showers”

a/n: quick disclaimer – this is actually just a snippet of a larger piece that I’m putting together (a smutty 5+1 prompt, five times daryl made you cum, and the one time he let you return the favor) but as it’s my first real attempt at smut, I wanted to post this as a means to garner some constructive criticism before finishing the piece. If you’d be so kind to read and lmk your thoughts/critiques, I’d really appreciate it!

EDIT: I know it’s not how the majority of 5+1 prompts are done, but I’ve decided to post each segment as they are finished. I just think it’s an easier/less stressful method for me, so I hope you guys don’t mind the posting choice. the posts will be linked together for easier access.

the cdc showers – arrow mishaps lead to frisky fun – ever done it in a loft? – cold iron bars – the watchtower – I want a taste, too

c/w: explicit sexual content, cunnilingus, shower cunnilingus, tongue fucking, fingering, language, dirty talk, undisclosed age gap, 18+

word count: 2.4k

that morning, had anyone scooped you off to the side and told you that mere hours after arriving at the pipe-dream that was the CDC you’d be corralled into a hot shower with none other than daryl dixon squished between your thighs, you’d have laughed straight in their face and directed them towards the nearest mental institution – not that that would do anyone much good, given the state of things; but had anyone declared a statement that outrageous, you’d have thought their mind already gone, much like the drooling, shuffling, decaying bodies wandering the earth.

yet here you were, a steady jet of hot water battering the sore muscles of your back, liquor-laden torso slightly slumped, thighs spread open by broad shoulders and daryl dixon’s wicked tongue licking your little cunny straight to nirvana.

how the fuck did you even end up here, anyway?

it was so uncharacteristic of you – you knew next to nothing about daryl dixon. he was simply a mutual stranger. you’d never even had more than a few fleeting conversations with the man, for fuck’s sake; if you could even call them that. daryl was brusque and wholly unapproachable, and his attitude left a lot to be desired. due to his unpleasantness, you’d opted to keep your distance and observe rather than to interact. to be completely honest, you’d been more judgmental rather than observant of the man before, back at the quarry, internally critiquing his sour attitude, accent and frayed clothes; and, shamefully, even at times presuming that he was some forty year old virgin that had been holed up in his mother’s basement before the world went to shit – but, fuck, were you ever wrong.

maybe he was forty, maybe he had been holed up in his mother’s basement, who the fuck knows, but he sure as fuck wasn’t a virgin – at least, his tongue wasn’t. the way he moved it, fucked it into you, made a mess of you with it, there was no way he wasn’t experienced with it.

you let out a loud, trembling gasp when daryl suddenly broke his tender tongue-flicks to slide his teeth gently against your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

okay, fuck, scratch that. he was experienced with his whole mouth.

unlike the few other men you’d allowed to taste the heaven between your legs, daryl used his entire lower face to devour you – his tongue was the star of the show, of course, but his lips, nose and chin made a hell of a supporting cast. when his tongue was busy fucking your walls, his nose was right against your clit in its place, his head shaking side to side, applying just enough pressure to bring you pleasure but not enough to stimulate you into orgasm; and then, as if he could simply innately sense when you were becoming desperate for more, his tongue would slip from your hole and return to your clit once more, circling and flicking it with expert movements, quickly bringing you right back to that sweet precipice.

how long had he been at it?

the water wasn’t cold yet – or maybe your body was just too hot to register that it was; but with the amount of times that daryl had built then robbed you of your orgasm, you drunkenly surmised that it had to of been a good fifteen minutes. any other man would have tapped out from exhaustion already.

of course, there were times when his tongue would get tired, but even then, unlike your previous lovers, he seemed loathe to leave you without any contact – he would alternate between giving your clit chaste little kisses and moving his lips against your entire cunt as if it were a second mouth that he was intent on claiming; then, when his tongue was rested enough, he would dive right back into devouring you.

it was absolutely wrecking you, in the best and worst ways.

maybe it was simply the affects of the alcohol swimming through your veins that fed you the illusion of this being the best damn head you’d ever received; maybe it was because you certainly didn’t have a lot of other experiences to compare it to; or maybe it was the warmth that came with the comfort of hot water and a full stomach that made it so much better – either way, you were almost at the brink now, again, thighs quaking with the effort of holding your body upright and staving off your impending orgasm; you knew daryl would more than likely take it away if he sensed it, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

“oh, god,” you hissed out when daryl flattened his tongue against your clit, flicking it with short, harsh movements, before slipping it down to part your folds and lick up your slit. he transitioned between the repetitive movements at a near imperceptible speed, without ever having to trade out accuracy and rhythm for it. it was a dangerous cocktail of pleasure that had you damn near seeing stars. each harsh swipe of his tongue against your clit sent zips of electricity up your spine, and built a familiar tension within your gut.

“ya like tha’, sweetheart?” daryl parted from your cunt just enough to inquire huskily, his voice so low that you barely even managed to catch it over the volume of the hissing spray. you nearly whined at the loss of his tongue, and, rather than answer his question, which you could hardly even decipher at the moment, you reached a hand down to tangle your fingers into the short hair at his nape, using what leverage you had to push his head forward until the tip of his nose brushed against your sensitive clit once more.

“no, d-don’t – don’t talk…” you slurred out, tugging at his hair insistently and pulling a deep, rumbling chuckle from the man below you.

“some manners you have,” daryl drawled, but to your delight, returned his tongue to your slit, parting your wet folds and slipping it past the rim of your tight entrance. your fingers twitched against his nape as you released a high, airy sigh, and your hips began to move of their own accord, humping your cunt against his face and pulling even more vibrating vocalizations from his throat. you just wanted firmer friction, damn it.

your stomach was stirring, tight, that pressure slowly mounting. it felt fucking good, the way he was thrusting and wiggling his tongue against your gummy walls, fucking you with the thick muscle, his nose bumping into your clit and sending subtle jolts up your spine, and those vibrations and sounds, fuck! – but it just wasn’t enough. you needed something different, something more.

“do… do what you were doing before…” you requested breathlessly, hips trembling, fingers digging into the skin of his nape in desperation. “‘m so close, daryl… just need more.”

the thought of keeping your impending orgasm away from his awareness seemed to have slipped away in the midst of the tremulous pleasure he was bringing you, and maybe you shouldn’t have let the information out, but you were so desperate. your tummy was so fucking tight, that coil winding and winding to a painful climax, and holding it in just seemed impossible, you needed to let it go – and at the moment, the only way you could possibly reach orgasm was through daryl.

daryl flicked his eyes up to meet yours, and though your vision was a bit hazy from the steam and alcohol, you swore the man was smirking up at you from within your cunt. daryl was silent for a moment, all movements against your cunny paused, before he leaned back slightly and said, lowly, “why don’ I do somethin’ better, instead?”

before your drunk, horny, fuddled mind could truly decipher his words daryl was in motion; his warm hand gripped the back of your knee, bending your leg easily and hoisting it atop his shoulder – distantly, you registered a strange sensation against the skin of your calf (was that a shirt? was daryl fully clothed right now?) – and once your leg was stabilized, he skirted the fingers of his other hand up your other leg, the one that was still planted to the floor of the shower.

his fingertips grazed your knee, then the plush flesh of your thigh, before reaching between your hips. you jumped slightly when you felt the pad of his finger run over your slit, the thick digit parting your folds smoothly, the tip dipping ever so subtly into your entrance every so often. like he was testing the waters, or something.

“d-daryl, what are you doing?” you inquired, heart tripping over itself, apprehension twisting in your gut for the first time since he’d invited himself into your shower and initiated this whole thing.

wait, had he invited himself? or did you do that?

you couldn’t remember.

“shh, jus’ trus’ me, sweetheart. This’s gon’ blow yer mind.” daryl responded back, calmly, warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit as he spoke. your breath shuddered in your lungs, but any further objections died in your throat when daryl’s hot tongue met your sex, circling, flicking, flattening, devouring – his pace was much faster and firmer than before, the pleasure much more intense than what had previously been given.

“o-oh, fuck! daryl!” you moaned, your hand sliding up from his nape to the crown of his head, fingers fisting into his hair to hold his head still as you rutted your hips forward to meet his skilled tongue.

“shit, that’s it, baby,” daryl panted, muffled, into the slick heat of your cunt, tongue drawing lazy circles between his words. “jus’ fuckin’ lose it. use my tongue, sweetheart.”

it felt so fucking good. it felt like your cunt was melting right into daryl’s mouth, searing hot and drippy, sloppy, coating his lips, jaws, nose, and neck with copious amounts of your arousal – all the while daryl growled, groaned, and moaned as he slurped it down, as if it was the very nectar of life itself.

your gut felt like it would burst – at any moment, with any flick of his tongue, in time with any of those vibrating groans, you’d be exploding all over daryl’s face, releasing every single ounce of the pent-up arousal daryl had inflicted upon your body over the last fifteen minutes in a single second.

“daryl, daryl, god, yes… fuck, don’t stop… don’t s-stop.”

you continued to repeat those words, falling like a river from your mouth, a mantra that seemed to keep you grounded as daryl’s tongue threatened to send you floating away –

a sound akin to a scream bubbled in your throat when daryl suddenly slipped two of his thick fingers into your cunt; the sensation was far from unpleasant but far too close to overwhelming – and when he began to pump them in time with the flicks of his tongue, and curled them just so on every outward pull, scraping against something at the top of your gummy walls, you simply couldn’t hold it in.

your entire body locked up, muscles freezing as your lips fell open to release mute moans, both hands now swinging down to grip daryl’s hair.

those silent moans you were releasing quickly morphed into loud, wanton, downright sinful vocalizations as daryl pumped his fingers into your cunt, still rubbing that sweet spot, fingerfucking you through your high and bringing stars to your eyes. you pressed daryl’s head impossibly closer to your cunt, humping whatever you could and burying his fingers deeper inside your walls with desperate, short, shaky movements, releasing a litany of his name and curses in between breathy pants and moans.

when the waves of your high had begun to recede, you slowed your hips until they came to a complete stop, your chest heaving from the deep lungfuls of steamy air you pulled in. your body felt incredibly fuzzy, your mind pleasantly foggy; but your body, and everything else, felt too hot, too cramped, too everything, and when daryl decided to give your throbbing, sensitive clit one last tiny flick of his tongue, you damn near smacked him in the head.

if only your arms would move.

a small gasp was pulled from your lips when daryl slipped his fingers from your sloppy cunt, the friction against your sensitive walls almost enough to have your entire body seizing, and it was only when daryl lifted his hands up to grip your wrists were you able to disentangle your fingers from his hair; only with his help, of course.

daryl then grasped the plump flesh of your thigh, the one that was still tossed over his shoulder, and pulled it down slowly, not releasing his hold until your foot was planted firmly on the wet floor of the tub.

when your balance was secured daryl scuttled back from between your legs, and when he’d rose to a standing position, his chest now centimeters from your own (which you distantly realized was bare) you couldn’t help but stumble backwards until your back hit the cold wall. your lids felt incredibly heavy, and exhaustion gnawed insistently at your muscles; but through the fog, you were able to register daryl, who was indeed fully clothed, the fabric of his shirt and jeans soaked and clinging to his body like a second skin – and you were certain that was a smirk on his lips.

a smirk that said he knew he had just blown your mind, even if you would never admit it to him.

it seemed as though your orgasm had sobered you up a bit, because when daryl sidled up to you, right beneath the harsh spray, and placed his large hands on your naked hips, you were able to lift your hands and plant them on his chest. he didn’t attempt to move closer to you, but his hands didn’t fall from your hips either; and when he spoke, his voice was chock-full of cockiness that you found simultaneously alluring and irritating.

“if ya ever want yer mind blown again, ya know where to find me.”

with that, daryl slipped his hands from your hips and turned, ripped open the shower curtain with little effort and then stepped out, as if he hadn’t just performed an intimate act on you. water dripped noisily against the linoleum floor as he stalked away, and, not one to give up the chance at having the last word, you croaked out,

“in your dreams, dixon.”

the only thing you got in reply was a haughty chuckle, echoing into the bathroom from somewhere within the quarters you’d claimed for the night.

[itsphoenix0724]

Promises (Rhysand x Reader)

Summary: You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of Rhys' trauma from under the mountain

Word Count: 1.7k

Part 2

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing for Rhys, but I apologize; this isn't the happiest thing! This takes place during ACOMAF, and I tried to keep it canon accurate. I may have diverged a little though! I really just needed to get some angst out from first week of school stress lol. If you ever want to interact with me my requests are open! As always constructive criticism is very welcome! I tried to makes this a realistic portrayl of real feelings and emotions. I hope you all enjoy even if it stamps on your heart a bit <3

You’re sitting at the dinner table in the Townhouse, nursing a glass of wine, when you feel your Husband’s power rumble into your bones. It normally feels comforting to you, but now all it does is further the knot of anxiety growing in your stomach.

It’s been a long week. 

It was the first time that Rhys had called in his bargain with Feyre. You’ll always be eternally grateful for what Feyre did for your family, for your court, and the entirety of Prythian. It still didn’t stop the ugly jealousy that clawed at your insides at Rhys spending the week away from you with her. Especially after you learned about the dancing. You knew why it had to happen, you really did. He had explained everything to you in the tearful reunion after he returned from under the mountain. 

You hope Amarantha burned in whatever hell she crawled out from. 

“How was your first week,” you take another gulp of wine, trying to drown the spiders crawling up your throat. 

“I think she’s making some progress. Tamlin isn’t even teaching her how to read! Can you believe that? Even after he saw it almost kill her and his supposedly beloved emissary.” He rubbed out the crease forming between his eyebrows, maneuvering around the kitchen as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “She was paper thin and so so pale.” he shook his head as he knocked back the liquor. 

“You didn’t come home the whole time.” You tried your best to keep the venom tamped down in your voice, you weren’t even really angry just confused. Judging by the way the muscles in his back tensed your endeavor had not been successful. 

You knew he would have to call in this bargain eventually you just didn’t expect him to ignore you the entire time she was here. He could’ve taken you with him, you had even expressed interest in meeting Feyre. You had wanted to thank her personally for everything she did to you and extend an olive branch for her time in your court. Rhys had shut down the idea immediately because he thought she might have been overwhelmed. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he turned around and looked at you from his spot leaning against the counter. You didn’t look at him, staring straight at the grooves on the table. You sensed the defensive tone immediately. Rhys almost looks like a cat with all the hair raised on its back. Feline eyes sizing you up like he’s about to pounce on you.

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have come home to even sleep. When I tried to reach you mind to mind your shields were up.” Your nails dig into the wood, leaving crescent marks in the pine. Rhys doesn’t have an answer for that when you meet his eyes. It almost looks like he’s looking through you instead of at you. 

“I didn’t want to leave her alone in case she tried to jump out a window.” He says the answer matter-of-factly. It’s the same tone you heard him use during the conferences he held with the citizens. He wasn’t exactly brushing you off, but it didn’t feel like he was listening to you either. 

“Why couldn’t you have just told me that?” Your voice cracked. You have been married to Rhys for almost one hundred years. You could tell when he was being shifty, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from you. Judging from that regretful look in his eye you were correct. 

“I thought you would react poorly. Clearly, I was correct.” The clipped tone is enough to send a white-hot bolt of anger through your body. 

“Do not blame your poor communication skills on me Rhysand.” The glare you fixed him with could have brought the monster that lurks in the bottom of the library to its knees, but Rhys just met your eyes with a steeled look of his own. 

“She needed help. She was begging somebody to come rescue her. She was withering away in the Spring Court! You know how many times I’ve been pulled from bed because she’s vomiting during the night-” Rhys sounded exasperated. But you were tired, so tired. 

“You’ve barely come to bed since you’ve been back.” Your voice was hardly more than a whisper, but the deafening silence that followed your words made it sound like an explosion. You knew it was a low blow. Rhys sometimes couldn’t stomach sleeping in your bed after what Amarantha did to him. After he was startled awake one night a bolt of his power shot your sleeping form out of the bed because, in his nightmare-filled haze, he had mistaken you for her. He had felt awful, and now mostly slept in one of the guest rooms in fear that he would cause serious damage to you. You had tried to convince him, but he knew how powerful he could be, so you relented. 

“You don’t get to throw that in my face right now.” The growl that came from your husband sounded like cold black death. “She needs to be trained. She needs help-” all the pent-up emotion started to boil over inside you. Your airway got smaller, white noise was sounding through your head, and your eyes couldn’t focus on a spot infront of you. 

“I DO NOT CARE WHAT FEYRE NEEDS!” the boom in your voice surprised even you. Rhys took a step back, you rarely even raised your voice, let alone yelled at him. His eyes widened, but his flood of emotions quickly matched yours. 

“SHE SAVED ME! I PROMISED TO KEEP HER SAFE!” The way Rhy’s voice ricocheted off the walls made you flinch. The pure night-kissed power had stolen the warmth from the room and all the air from your lungs. 

“You made promises to me too. Do you remember that?” your voice echoed out with calm fury as you slipped your ring off your finger and held it up to the light. “Do you remember the promises you made to me when you put this ring on my finger?” You didn’t even know where the rage was coming from, You weren’t angry, but it grabbed ahold like cold unforgiving ocean waves and kept pulling you farther into the eye of the hurricane. “You pledged to me your undying loyalty, your faithfulness, your honesty.” That last word coated your tongue in acid. 

It burned you and Rhys as it left your mouth. 

“Do you truly believe I have been unfaithful to you?” his voice grated out like shards of glass. However, in your current state, it seemed more condescending than questioning. 

“I believe you are not being honest with me. I have been married to you for practically 100 years, and have known you even longer. Do you think I don’t know when you’re not telling me something?”  You shot up from your seat and slammed your wedding ring on the table. His violet shield slipped for just a moment to see the hurt flash in his eyes. You haven’t taken that ring off since he gave it to you. 

“You are being irrational.” Rhys tried to step towards you, but you only backed away from him, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Why are you being so secretive about Feyre? She is engaged Rhys-you took her from her wedding. If she truly needed help why not bring her to Velaris? Why not let her meet me? Why not let her be happy with Tamlin?” The questions kept pouring out but the protective growl Rhysand made at your last statement had you recoiling. He had given himself away. He obviously knew it too, as he tried to step towards you. The tears kept pouring out as you shook your head. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.” Rhys finally hung his head in defeat as he slumped into one of the chairs. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he stared at your trembling figure from the other side of the table. 

“She is my mate.” Your eyes widened in horror. It felt like the dinner you made earlier tonight was going to make another appearance on your kitchen floor. “She is my mate and I don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Your voice was shaking with scarcely contained fury as you stormed up to the table. “I am your wife. I am your people’s queen. What more is there to think about? I thought you loved me.” A new wave of tears washed over you, and you swear you could hear your heart breaking. It was so loud. You wonder if Rhys could hear it too. 

“Of course I love you!” he looked at you with desperation and pleading in his eyes. “It’s just more complicated.” You shook your head at him as your sobs finally flowed out of your body. 

“It shouldn’t be complicated,” you heaved out through the tears “You promised to choose me every day. If you can’t do that I can’t be here.” You turn from the table and march up the stairs. You distantly hear Rhys get up and follow you to your room as you shove clothes inside a bag. 

“What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?” His eyes widened in horror as he tried to grab the items out of your hands. “Darling-”

“Do not call me that right now.” You manage to sniff out the words behind the tears. “I just can’t be here if you cannot choose me. There shouldn’t even be a question.” 

“Where will you go?” He at least had it in him to sound concerned about your well-being. 

“I don’t know, anywhere but here.” You shoved the last thing in your suitcase and winnowed away without another word. You left Rhysand in your house, with your ring sitting on the table. He found himself sitting at the kitchen table for the rest of the night, nursing a bottle of whisky and running over the cool sapphire with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t know if you were ever coming back. He didn’t know where you went. 

What the fuck had he done?

[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

[rynwritesreid]

Sold my Soul | Spencer Reid

Summary: You’re out celebrating with your friends after a recent work accomplishment. Where you bump into Spencer Reid who is working on a case in your city. fem!reader. This is my first time writing smut outside of an overall story, so there is a plot. I hope you enjoy it:)

Content: Dom! Spencer . Sub! reader. Use of nicknames (good girl). Smut (with a plot). Overstimulation. Oral (M and F receiving) Fingering (F receiving) MDNI. 18+

words: 5.3k

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You like to have things under control, but I mean who doesn’t? You could be relaxed on the surface, all calm and collected, all your friends said you had a calming presence. But if one thing went wrong in your daily routine you would be stressed thinking your whole day had gone wrong.

 

But today was a big, you had an important meeting with your editor. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as you checked the time once again. You were running five minutes late, and now all you could think about is how unprofessional this would look and how unprepared you felt. You had spent countless hours working on your latest novel, and the idea of someone finding a fault in your writing was making you beyond anxious.

You rushed out of your apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. You reached the street just in time to see your uber pulling up to the curb. The driver gave you a nod and a smile as you climbed into the back seat. You smiled back politely but couldn’t find it in you to make small talk. Your mind was solely focused on your meeting ahead. You had been working on your latest novel for months, pouring your heart and soul into every word.

 

But as the meeting drew closer, you began to second-guess yourself. What if your editor hates your work? What if they find plot holes or inconsistencies that you have missed? The thoughts swirled around in your head like a tornado, and you couldn’t shake them off.

 

As the car pulled up to the publishing house, you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the street. You smoothed out your clothes and adjusted your bag, trying to regain some semblance of control. But as soon as you walked through the glass door, your anxiety escalated.

 

The meeting was difficult, but you felt it was successful. Your editor had a handful of constructive criticisms, but all in all, they loved your work. You let out a sigh of relief as you left the publishing house, feeling like a weight had been lifted of your shoulders.

 

You had decided to call your closest friends to go out and celebrate afterwards. They were always down to go drinking, for celebrations or to commiserate. As you walked towards the nearest bar in the city, your mind was still racing from the meeting. You couldn’t believe that your editor had loved your work, and you couldn’t wait to celebrate with your friends. You pushed open the door to the bar, the sound of laughter and music hitting you as you stepped inside.

 

Your friends were already there, waving to you from the corner of the room. You made your way over, taking a seat beside them. You could feel the nervous energy draining from your body as your ordered a round of drinks for the table.

 

As the night went on, the drinks kept coming. You let yourself relax completely, enjoying the company of your friends and the new sense of freedom that came with having your novel approved. The bar kept getting louder and more crowded as the night went on.

 

Your friends went to get some drinks, as you just wanted to sit and enjoy the atmosphere for a moment. As you were people watching, you saw a group of about five/six people all sitting together. Each one of them was more attractive than the next. But one specifically caught your eye. He was fairly tall, around 6-foot, mediumish brown curly hair, hazel brown eyes and a face sent straight from the Greek gods. You looked at him and you just couldn’t look away. As he caught you looking, he flashed you a smile that made your heart race. You quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed that you had been caught staring. But you couldn’t help but glance back, and you found that he was still looking at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

 

Suddenly, your friends were back at the table, loudly chatting and laughing as they set down their drinks. You tried to focus on their conversation, but you found yourself stealing glances at the handsome stranger across the room.

 

You turned back to your friends and as asked, “do you guys see that group of people? Do you think they are all like models or something?”

 

Both of your friends turned to look at the group of strangers, looking, more like judging, each one.

 

Lucy was the first to say something, “I think they are. Or whatever job they are in, requires them to look as beautiful as possible.”

 

Alice than spoke, “it almost feels like I’m dreaming. The two older guys are making me question myself.”

 

You chuckled at Alice’s comment. “What about the guy with the brown curly hair? He’s like the most attractive man I have ever seen.” You already knew their answers already, they would tell you how they agreed with you, but he wasn’t their type.

 

“He’s really hot, but the guy sitting next to him is my cup of tea.” Lucy said with a giggle.

 

Alice elbowed her and went “I thought you’d more go for the woman with the black hair. I’ve seen you flirt with women like her all the time.”

 

Lucy looked mildly offended, but in a jokey way.

 

You all laughed together, while still staring at the random group of strangers. You must have looked like a group of weirdos. You all returned to your drinks, and conversation about each of your days. But your attention kept drifting towards the beautiful stranger across the room, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was interested in you too.

 

After some time, you excused yourself from the table, making your way to the bar. You ordered a drink and leaned against the counter, trying to act cool and collected. But as you turned around, you found the handsome stranger was standing right beside you.

 

“Do you make it a habit of staring at strangers and then, obviously, talking about those strangers?” He jokingly asked.

 

“Not really. Only when they all look like models but stand around like they work for the FBI or something.” You replied with a smile, and the feeling of your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You couldn’t help but think that he was more even more attractive up close.

 

“Well, you guessed one of them right. We aren’t all models, but we do work for the FBI. So, were you and your friends all comparing us, seeing which one is more attractive?” He asked in a teasing tone, with a small smirk plastered across his lips.

 

“Woah, you work for the FBI? That’s so cool, I’ve written books about you guys. And yeah, maybe we were seeing which one of you is more attractive. But we all have different tastes, so we weren’t necessarily comparing, more saying which one we find attractive.” You replied, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist the charm of the handsome stranger.

 

“Well, I hope you found someone to your liking,” he said turning to look at you fully. “Because I think I might have found someone of mine.”

 

“You have? Who is it? Is it one of my friends, because if it is, I have disappointing news. Also, I’m Y/N. I don’t normally introduce myself to strangers, but I am kinda drunk right now.”

 

“It’s not one of your friends,” he said, with a chuckle. “And it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer. You’re smart for not giving out your last name, would be easy to track you down.”

 

“Is that a threat, Spencer? But don’t worry, I only give my last name out on like the second date with someone.” You say with some confidence.

 

“Not a threat, just a warning. You never know who you’ll meet in a bar,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humour. “So, Y/N, what brings you out tonight? Celebrating something?”

 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to share the news of your novel being approved with a stranger. But something in the way Spencer was looking at you made you feel like you could trust him.

 

“Actually, I just got my novel approved by my editor. It’s been a long time coming, and I needed to celebrate with my friends,” you said, feeling a little proud of yourself. “What about you, Spencer? What brings you out tonight?”

 

“Oh, just blowing off some steam with my colleagues. We’ve been working on a tough case for a while. I think we are all missing home.” His voice seemed to have some hurt behind it.

 

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. But you’ve come to probably one of the worst bars in the city to do that.” You were trying to lighten the mood again.

 

“Maybe you’re right. But this bar led me to you.” He said with a little chuckle.

 

Spencer’s words sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, despite knowing almost nothing about him. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you, and you found yourself smiling in response.

 

“Am I really that interesting, Spencer?” You asked, unable to resist teasing him a little bit.

 

“Of course, you are, Y/N. You’re smart, beautiful, and you’ve just had a major accomplishment. What’s not to find interesting?” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

 

As the night wore on, you found yourself constantly drawn back to Spencer. Your conversations flowed easily, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d known him for years.

 

As the bar closed, your friends began to leave, but Spencer was still standing beside you. You could tell he was hesitant to leave, but you couldn’t tell if that because of you or something else entirely.

 

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk? It’s a nice night out,” you suggested, hoping he would say yes.

 

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with interest as he replied, “Sure, I’d love to. But I just need to make a call first. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes?”

 

You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation. As you walked outside, the cool night air hit you, and you shivered in response. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm as you waited for Spencer.

 

When he finally emerged from the bar, you felt your heart skip a beat. He looked even more striking in the moonlight, and you couldn’t resist the urge to stare.

 

Spencer caught your gaze and smirked before walking up to you. “Ready to go?”

 

You nodded, still feeling a little nervous and excited at the same time. As you walked, you talked about everything and anything, from your favourite book to your childhood memories. You found yourself sharing things with Spencer that you had never told anyone before, and you couldn’t deny the connection you felt with him.

 

Spencer was different from anyone you had ever met. He was smart, funny, and kind, but also mysterious in a way that made you want to know more. You couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him, but also drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

 

“Did I hear you correctly earlier, saying that you’ve written books about the FBI?”

 

“I have. But I’ve never gone to get them published. They are always murder mystery books. But that’s not really what I write.”

 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with interest. “Really? What do you mean that’s not what you write?”

 

“I write typical romance novels. People tend to like them; I mean I’m not famous but I’m not unknown.”

 

Spencer looked at you with a newfound interest. “Romance novels, huh? That’s interesting. What inspired you make the switch from murder mysteries to romance?”

 

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess it was just a personal preference. I wanted to write about love, and the idea of giving characters happy endings was really appealing to me.”

 

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “I can see why that would be appealing. It’s nice to have control over what happens in your own little world, even if it’s just in your writing.”

 

You smiled, feeling grateful for Spencer’s understanding. “Exactly. Plus, I love the idea of creating characters that people can fall in love with. It’s kind of like bring people together in a way, even if it’s just fiction.”

 

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I understand that you can’t control love or your own love story in real life. It takes a lot of skill to create characters that people can connect with on that level.”

 

“It takes a lot of skill to work for the FBI.” You say with a giggle.

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I suppose it does. But I’m just doing my job, like anyone else.”

 

You shook your head, feeling a sense of admiration for Spencer. “No, what you do is amazing. You and your colleague risk your lives every day to keep people safe. That’s something truly special.”

 

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot coming from you.”

 

As you continued to walk, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness with Spencer that you had never felt with anyone before. It was as if he could see right through you, past all your insecurities and doubts, and still accept you for who you were.

 

As the night wore on, you found yourself slowing down, wanting to savour every moment with Spencer. You were afraid that once the night ended, you would never see him again.

 

“I’m guessing the case isn’t over yet, so you should probably get back to your hotel so you can get a rest.”

 

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “Yeah, we still have a lot of work to do tomorrow. But I don’t want this night to end just yet.”

 

You looked up at him, feeling a little shy. “Me neither.”

Spencer smiled, “Then let’s keep walking. I don’t want to say goodbye to you just yet, Y/N.”

 

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards his. As you continued to walk, you felt Spencer’s gaze on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. “Is everything okay, Spencer?”

 

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Yeah, I’m just trying to figure something out.”

 

You looked at him, feeling a little confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“My friends, the people you saw at the bar, said I should try and not talk about work, and find someone who doesn’t work with us. I thought it was going to be difficult. But then I met you.” Spencer’s voice was low and intense, and you could feel his hot breath on your cheek.

 

You blushed, feeling a little overwhelmed by his sudden confession. “What are you trying to figure out, Spencer?”

 

“What this means. I mean I know what it means, kind off. But how someone so perfect, could just be sitting in a bar that I just so happened to go into. I mean I know the chances, it’s just so strange.”

 

You looked at Spencer, feeling the same way he did. It was as if fate had brought the two of you together, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

 

“I know what you mean,” you said softly. “It’s like we were meant to meet each other.”

 

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a mixture of awe and admiration. “I don’t want to let this chance slip away.”

 

You felt a surge of desire at his words, and without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. Spencer responded immediately, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

 

You didn’t want to be cliché, you’re a writer, you’re good with words, but this kiss was magical. It was as though the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and Spencer in your own little bubble of passion and desire. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you as he deepened the kiss.

 

As the kiss ended, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that this was just the beginning of something special, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would take you.

 

“I don’t want this night to end,” you said softly, feeling a little breathless.

 

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes shining with affection.  “Me neither, Y/N. Let’s not end it just yet then. Also, did you know you actually share less germs with someone if you kiss them, rather than shaking their hands?”

 

You chuckled, feeling a sense of ease with Spencer. “I guess that makes sense. But I don’t think we need an excuse to kiss each other, do we?”

 

Spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “No, Y/N. We don’t need an excuse.”

 

“You know for been a member of the FBI and been in a place where you are having a practically rough case, you are pretty trusting.”

 

“Ahh. You see I work with the BAU, which is the behaviour analysis unit, so I read body language and such. I basically profile people, and you don’t seem like you’d murder or kidnap me. So, yes, I am pretty trusting when I can read someone so well.”

 

You smiled at Spencer, feeling a sense of jealousy and admiration for his skills. “That’s really cool. I wish I had your ability to read people like that.”

 

Spencer shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s just something that comes with the job, I guess. But it can be a double-edged sword sometimes. You start to see the worst in people, and it can be hard to trust anyone.”

 

You looked at him, feeling a sense of sadness at his words. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”

 

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes softening. “It’s okay, Y/N. I have good people around me, like you, who remind me that there’s still good in the world.”

 

“You think I’m a good person? You’ve only known me for around 2 hours, and you think I’m a good person. Well, I’m glad I’ve made a good impression on you.”

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Y/N, it doesn’t take long to recognise a good person. And you, my dear, are definitely a good person. I can tell by the way you carry yourself, the way you treat others, and the way you make me feel.”

 

You blushed, feeling a sense of warmth spread throughout your body. “Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot to me.”

 

Spencer leaned in, his lips hovering over yours. “And I want to you feel even better.”

 

He kissed you deeply, his hands caressing your body as he pushed you up against the wall. Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat and arousal in their wake. You gasped, feeling a sense of pleasure as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

 

“I’m sure someone who works with the FBI cannot get public indecency on their record. Do you want to continue this somewhere else, like your hotel room or my apartment?”

 

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes shining with desire. “My hotel room.”

 

You nodded, realising that the hotel was only two blocks down. You could feel the lust burning between the two of you, and you couldn’t wait to feel his hands on your body.

 

You made it to the hotel in no time at all, your hands already exploring each other’s bodies. Spencer’s lips trailed a burning trail of fire down your neck, and you could yourself shudder in his arms.

 

You pulled open the door to Spencer’s hotel room, turning the lights on as you walked through the doorway. Spencer followed suit; he pulled you closer to him, your hands never leaving your body.

 

Spencer pulled off your clothes slowly, exploring your body with his eyes. You felt a wave of desire wash over you as he looked at your body, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on you.

 

Spencer’s lips were basically attached to your neck, and you could feel desire coursing through your body. You could feel his heartbeat thumping against yours, echoing the same rhythm that was currently coursing through your body.

 

“Do you know people who want to control every aspect of their life, often seek ways to lose control, for other people to control them? A lot of CEOs and bosses will go to professional dominatrixes to help them.”

 

“What are you saying, Spencer? Are you saying you like to be dominated?” You said in a teasing tone.

 

He kind of laughed at your comment.

 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all here. I think you would like to lose control.”

 

“Is that right?”

 

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a devilish smirk. “I think you would like to lose control. To know that you are completely at my mercy.”

 

You gave a short laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right. Spencer, I don’t think you know me at all.”

 

“I’m good at reading people. You’re a writer, and I bet that you like to control every aspect of your life. You write the plots, you decide the endings, and you feel that you have complete control over your life.”

 

You laughed, “You’re right, that’s me.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N. And I’m not saying you are wrong for being that way. It’s just that I wonder what you would do if you were completely at the mercy of someone else. Seeing how you like to control everything, I bet you would love for someone to take that control.”

 

You smirked, biting your lip as you stared at him. “Hmmm, I think you might be on to something there.”

 

Spencer shook his head, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “I wonder what you would do if I took control of you.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“I would love to try you, Y/N.”

 

Spencer’s lips claimed yours, and he pushed you down on the bed, his hands roaming over your body greedily. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his touch.

 

You could feel him hardening against you, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. He pulled of panties, his mouth trailing a line down your body.”

 

“I want you to know that I’m going to be in control of you, Y/N. And you’re going to like it.”

 

He paused, “Do you want me to control you?”

 

You looked at him, your eyes glinting with desire. “Yes.”

 

Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust, and you could feel yourself getting wetter just from his gaze.

 

“I want you to know I’m going to do whatever I want to you.” He bit you hard on the neck, and you could feel your body tense with desire.

 

“And you’re going to let me.”

 

You nodded, wanting nothing more than his hands on you. He kissed you hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You could feel him crawling up your body, his erection rubbing against your wetness.

 

“You’re going to let me, because you’re going to love it.”

 

“I will.”

 

“You’re going to do everything I tell you to.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Uh huh. And I am going to make you cum over and over, until you’re begging me to stop.”

 

“Please, Spencer.”

 

You gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He pushed two of them inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out. You could feel yourself tightening around him, your hips bucking in sync with his fingers.

 

His lips trailing a burning trail down your body. He could tell how badly you wanted to cum, he was reading you like a book.

 

“Beg me.” Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust.

 

“Please, Spencer. I want to cum”.

 

“I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl, and tell me how badly you want to cum.”

 

“I want to come so fucking badly, please. Please, Spencer, let me cum.”

 

His pace fastened, you moaned at Spencer’s actions and his words. He moved his thumb towards your clit, he pressed down hard. He could feel you tightening even more around him.

 

You were so close to cuming, the anticipation of your orgasm was almost painful. Your pussy was dripping wet, and you could feel the juices flowing down your legs.

 

“I want you to cum for me.”

 

Your mouth dropped open, a loud and crude moan leaving your lips. Spencer’s name followed; you were almost singing it. Spencer couldn’t get enough of this. You looked so beautiful like this; this was all for him and he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to get to see you like this.

 

“That’s it, let it all go.”

 

Your orgasm hit hard. His kept nursing you through it, showering you with praises. His eyes kept looking over every inch of your body. The orgasm shook through you, your body shaking with desire. You felt him slide his fingers out of you, and you could feel your body shaking with desire.

 

He leaned over you, his lips brushing a kiss against your neck. He stood up, he was still fully clothed, and you felt exposed. You lay there, watching him take all his clothes off. It gave you the opportunity to look at his body, which you had already known was amazing, but you could appreciate it even more as you watched him in the dim light. He kicked his pants off and walked towards you.

 

“Spencer” You panted.

 

“I love the way you say my name.” He smirked. “Can you stand up for me?”

 

You gently nodded your head, even though your legs felt a little bit like jelly, you wanted to stand for him. You pushed yourself up off the bed, you stood there, looking at him, your eyebrows shot up when you saw the look on his face. He looked at you like he was going to eat you alive, and that sent a shiver down your spine.

 

“That was only one of many, but I feel like I deserve a reward. Don’t you?”

 

You nodded your head once again.

 

“Okay, I’m glad. Now I want you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me, is that okay?”

 

You nodded your head, your breath quickening.

 

“Good girl, now I want you to take my cock out, but don’t touch it.”

 

You slowly sank to your knees in front of him, watching as his eyes roamed over your body.

 

He felt himself get harder, the look in your eyes made him feel like the king of the world.  

“Take it out.”

 

You heard him moan in appreciation. You slowly pulled down his boxers, watching as he carefully stepped out. You reached out your hand, wrapping your fingers around him.

 

“I didn’t say you could touch it just yet, did I?”

 

“No, sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize, just tell me you won’t do it again.”

 

“I won’t do it again.”

 

“Good girl.” He smirked. “Now I want you to put my dick into your mouth.”

 

You heard him hiss as you took him into your mouth. He kept looking down at you and you could see the lust in his eyes.

 

You could feel yourself getting wetter, just hearing him moan was enough to drive you wild. He fucked your mouth, and the way he moved in and out, would make anyone cum.

 

“That’s it baby,” he moaned. “I want you to suck my cock until I cum in your mouth.”

Your heart was racing. You could feel his dick twitching in your mouth.

 

You ran your tongue over the head and feeling him shudder under your touch.

 

 “Oh yes, just like that.”

 

“You’re doing so good.” He panted. “I’m so fucking close.”

 

You tried to take him deeper into your mouth, but it was hard.

 

“I’m going to cum.” He moaned.

 

Your mouth filled with his sticky cum. He moaned out loudly, before he pulled himself out of your mouth. You looked up at him, and he smiled down at you.

 

“You look so beautiful like this. I’m so lucky that I will be able to relive this image over and over again.”

 

“I want you to lay on the bed. But do not touch yourself.”

 

You did as you were told. You can’t believe a man this hot was having sex with you, you could barely believe that he knew exactly what to do to you.

 

He climbed on the bed, his kissed you, his tongue fighting for dominance in your mouth. He started to kiss you all the way down your body, your body felt like it was on fire. His mouth finally landed on your clit, his fingers found their way back to your pussy.

 

“I love how wet you are.” He moaned. You could feel the vibrations from his mouth against your clit, making the pleasure even more intense.

 

You were moaning uncontrollably. Your hips were rocking against his face and fingers. You knew you were getting close.

 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You moaned.

 

He kept working his mouth against your clit, and his fingers against your pussy. He knew exactly what you needed.

 

“Come for me baby.” He moaned.

 

Your back arched, you moaned out his name. He moaned against you, the vibrations adding more to your orgasm. He slowed down as your orgasm slowed down. He gently blew on your clit, causing you to squirm.

 

He pulled himself up, kissing you passionately on the lips, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands glided down your body. You were in total bliss, everything about this man was perfect.

As you thought you were actually in heaven, you heard a phone ringing and Spencer got off the bed. He grabbed his phone and walked into his bathroom. He was in there for a few minutes. He walked out with a sombre look on his face.

 

“I’m so sorry, there’s been a lead in the case, I have to go. You can stay here for the night if you want to, but if you don’t, please leave your number. This can’t be the last time I see you.”

 

You nodded; you felt a wave of sadness wash over your body.

 

“I’ll give you my number, I think I’ll head home. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you either.”

 

You read your number out to Spencer and started to get dressed. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek and left. You felt hopeful you’d see Spencer again, but it still hurt that you wouldn’t be falling asleep in his arms today.

————————————————————————

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[heeliopheelia]

would u write a hcs about Enhypen with a s/o who’s a great cook 👩🏾‍🍳👩🏾‍🍳 this is the only talent I have and I genuinely love cooking for my people

of course, love!! 🩷 honestly being a good cook is such a flex and i could never relate with my oversalting addiction...

HEESEUNG never fails to show and tell you how much he appreciates you!! whenever he has a worse day or he's just tired after practice, coming home to you and a homemade meal that you make for him always makes his day instantly so much better!! oh and grocery store dates are a weekly occurrence with him and he'll pay for all of it bcs it's the least he can do to express his gratitude!!

omggg just imagine cooking with JAY... just you both coming from work or in a weekend morning, hip to hip (or not if you like your space lmaoo he'd respect that), quiet conversations and giggles, feeding each other straight from the pot to get opinions... OH MY GOD WHERE DO I SIGN

JAKE he's in heaven oml... i see him as a type of a person who would love to try everything you cook and by that i mean every. single. thing, and even if he promised he would give you his constructive criticism, he's literally unable to find anything you cook for him relatively bad so his opinions are always heavily biased lmaoo

SUNGHOON at first he insisted that you really shouldn't be spending that much time in the kitchen for him but when you explained to him that you love cooking for people you love, you never heard a word of protest from him again ✨ pls he's so grateful whenever you make him something!! he gets so clingy after eating it too cause now it's his turn to love on you, bae

SUNOO is your biggest fan 🫶 would also eat anything you make for him, he wouldn't be picky when it comes to you spoiling him like that... he also loves to help you and would be so excited whenever you ask him to participate. always washes the dishes too and never takes no for an answer!!

JUNGWON broo he's already in love with you okay but just imagine you made the boys lunch and brought it to them - he'd love you even more if it's even possible... like the fact that you're not only making sure that he's eating well but you also take care of the other boys too 🧎 he'll definitely make you eat with them each time cause the last thing he can do to repay for your love is to make sure you never walk out of his place hungry :))

NIKI genuinely thinks your cooking is the best thing ever. he always accompanies you whenever you're cooking and it doesn't matter if he's chatting you up, showing you some videos or playing you some new songs he heard - he never lets you feel lonely even for a second lmao!! unlike jake he actually tells you if you need to add or switch something up in your recipes but he's never rude about it cause he knows that he himself can't cook for shit 🤷‍♀️

[pixiedust0604]

Miss You Already-

Clarisse x fem!reader

Info: Reader is in Aphrodite Cabin. Set in The Sea of Monsters. This is my first fanfic on here, so some constructive criticism would be very appreciated!

Context: Clarisse is about to go into the Sea of Monsters to get the Golden Fleece, but something (or someone) gets in her way

Reader's POV

Warnings: Angst but is resolved in the end

Word Count: 1381 words

Clarisse was livid.

Not that this should be a surprise. Clarisse was known for her temper in Camp, so it was of no big shock that she was upset. 'Probably the nerves of going on a quest for the first time' her siblings thought.

They were very wrong.

You see, Clarisse had a lucky shirt and bandana she wore when she did things like this. Any competition she went to, any test she did she always wore her lucky CHB shirt and bright red bandana.

She set them out that night, before she went to bed. She knows she did. But when she went to get dressed this morning, they were gone.

Now she's in a worse mood that usual, and I was terrified.

I could here the noise she was making from the dining pavilion.

I took the shirt and bandana last night, but I didn't know that they were her lucky ones. I just wanted something to remind me of her while she went away. It's not like I knew how important they were.

Okay, I didn't know the bandana was important, but in my defence, it's scary thinking about the fact that my girlfriend might not come home after this quest. I know I'll miss her, so I wanted to wear both the t-shirt and the bandana while she was gone, so it felt like she was right there next to me, and that the luck would bring her home to me safely.

I was just about to sneak back off to my cabin after breakfast so Clarisse wouldn't catch me, when I bumped into her immediately.

*Great, I'm dead aren't I* I think to myself as I see her almost glaring at me.

"Hi Y/N, you haven't seen my lucky bandana and camp t-shirt, have you?" She said, even though we both knew that I have them both.

"No, can't say I have honey, good luck on your quest though! Goodbye, love you!" I say, before quickly trying to running off.

Keyword, trying to. Unfortunately, Clarisse caught me by the arm before I could run off.

"Not so fast, love. You need to help me find them. Do you mind me looking in your cabin first?" She asked, grinning at me.

"I mean, I'd love to help, but I'm very busy right now." I say quickly, hoping that it'll work and she'll let me go.

It didn't work. Of course it didn't.

"Please, love? It'll only take 2 minutes." She said, feigning being upset.

I sighed, and said, "Fine, but you'll have to be quick, I don't think you have that much time, Clary." I was worried that she was going to see them both straight away. "Do you mind if I clean up a bit before you look? My part of the cabin is pretty messy."

"No, I'd prefer if I could look right now, lovely. I want to get going as soon as possible, okay?" She answers, looking at me again with that smirk of hers.

"Okay, come on then." I say, turning around terrified. I lead her to the Aphrodite Cabin, practically shaking the entire time.

I open the door, letting her in. "Here you go, just don't go through people's stuff too much, alright?" I close the door behind us, grateful that no-one else is there.

She starts rifling through everyone's wardrobe, checking the tags for her name, and searching through each person's accessories for her bandana. Until she got to mine.

This is where I start panicking, because I hid it in the most obvious place I could think of. Underneath my pillow.

She looks in my wardrobe, obviously to find nothing, then she gets to the bed.

She throws everything off the bed, and there lies the bandana, and the shirt where my pillow should be, crumpled up into a ball.

Clarisse, the girl I've been dating for almost 9 months now, turns to look at me with a look I've never seen aimed at me before.

A look I've only seen her give Percy Jackson, and any monster who dare to make her angry. A look of unbridled rage.

"Babe, why is my lucky bandana and shirt in your bed?" She asked, glaring at me with that look.

"Uh... I- I don't know, could have been one of the Hermes kids? But I don't know how it got there my love," I shakily replied, trying my best to get to the exit, bumping into things on the way.

"Then why are you leaving? Didn't you say yesterday that you wanted to see me off to the border?" She said, frowning at me. She stepped closer.

"Did I? I don't remember that..." I say, trailing off as my hand grasps the door handle.

"Just tell me why you took it, love" Clarisse says, that terrifying look fading and her voice growing softer as she saw how frightened I was.

She steps closer, her face relaxing as she stepped closer. Her hands were spread out wide, showing me I had nothing to fear. That she wouldn't hurt me. I know she never would, I was the only person in the entire camp she wasn't willing to spar with. The only times we ever did spar together, she always held back.

"I wanted something to remember you by, that's all. I'm so scared you won't make it- home, and I want something to have that- that's yours, so it feels like you're here with me. I'm so sorry Clarisse, I'm so so sorry I took them. I won't take anything from you again, I promise. But please, promise me you'll make it home safe, because I can't lose you." I say between sobs, tears flowing down my face and onto the hardwood floor.

I'm quickly enveloped into her arms, and my head is tucked under her chin.

"I'm sorry that you felt that way, Y/N. But maybe next time, ask for something from me. I have a ton of camp shirts and bandanas for you to have that I'd be happy to give you. You just have to a ask." She tells me, stroking my hair.

After a silence, I say, "I will, I'm sorry. Can I still walk you to the border?"

"Of course you can. In fact, why don't you pick out a bandana before I go? You can wear it while I'm gone." She says, letting me go, and leading me out of my cabin, to hers.

"Really?" I ask, my voice wobbling as tears fill my eyes once again.

"Yeah, of course love. You said you wanted something to remind you of me while I'm gone, so you can pick something out of mine." She says walking into her cabin, her hand still holding mine even as her siblings stare.

I ended up choosing a blue bandana and one of her camp shirts.

I felt all eyes on me and Clarisse as she held my hand and walked out with me. "Do you want anyone to come with us to the border?" She asks, rubbing my knuckles.

"No, I think I'll be okay" I reply, clutching the blue cloth in my left hand.

"Alright then my love." She said, and pulled me along gently to the border. There stood Argus, with his van.

"You ready to go?" He asks Clarisse, opening the van door for her.

"Yeah, just one sec" Clarisse answers.

Argus nods his head, his multiple eyes blinking at the same time.

"I'll see you later, Y/N. And don't you dare say I might not be, because I know I'll always come back to you." She says playfully.

"I swear to the gods, if you die on this quest, I'll kill you Clarisse." I joke, giggling as tears fill my eyes again.

She then kisses me, and her hands snaked around my waist. I quickly grab her face, kissing her back. I can feel her chapped lips as they move against mine. Her rough hands pull me closer, so I can feel her body .

Unfortunately, Argus interrupted saying "Clarisse, we have to get going."

She slowly pulls back and lets go of my waist. As I feel her body leave mine, Clarisse possibly for the last time, kisses me on the cheek, and moves away from me to go on her quest.

[trashfangirlsworld]

I'm gonna attempt to make another post talking about stuff I've seen after q's stream, because I saw people say that the last one I made made them feel better, so here we go:

why is he speaking spanish: this is not something I necesserly saw after yesterday, but I did see it last time he streamed a statement regarding qsmp and the fact that he had to start this stream fucking explaining why he's speaking his native language to formulate what he wants to say better is fucking vile to me and anyone that said that last time does not have a right to stay in this fandom or to even talk about this situation.

he does not have a right to sound mad: i'm sorry, but he has every right to sound frustrated, he is not mad at the admins that choose to leave the project, he explicitly says he understand their decision and wishes them the best, he is frustrated at those that have caused damage to the server in the first place and are still the reason why he can't be more open about what's happening. We are talking about his passion project here, of course he's frustrated that this is happening, even if he completely understands why some admins are leaving.

he is enabling hate against lea and others! (people that have leaked information): quackity has every right to cite the reason as to why he can't openly communicate the way he wants to, especially when those leaks have been twisted and used against him by the people that were initially harming the server in the first place (those he fired). He openly says the he doesn't necesserly think that the people that are leaking stuff are aware of how those leaks are actually being used, so he's not blaming any specific person. Actions have consequences, no one is the exception to this rule in this situation.

he says any criticism is invalid!: no he just straight up doesn't. He says he's not bothered by people that give non-constructive critcism and whose goal is clearly to see the project destroyed. If you feel like this statement is a call out to what you have been saying, then maybe you should reflect on what you actually want here and potentially leave. If you have constructive criticism you want to say, once again keep in mind that quackity does not have twitter on his phone and the best way to commuincate something to him is through his public email.

As quackity himself said multiple times, if you're not happy with how things are going and don't want to wait for visible change it's fine, but do not twist and nitpick stuff because you don't want to step away from something if you don't have a "moral" reason to do so. I said this multiple times, but this is just a shitty fucking situation that does not have an easy and quick solution to it, and people will make decisions or mistakes that you will not like on all sides, it does not mean there is malicious intent behind those decisions. Again, we may not know their names and how many there were, but we know who is actually to blame for all of this and I hope quackity is in the process/is gonna be able to sue them. The admins that choose to leave because of any reason have every right to do so, something that quackity himself also expressed on his stream. It is very possible to support them completely while understanding why things are the way they are, as much as everyone fucking dislikes it.

I genuinely hope qsmp is able to come back stronger, however long it takes, because I personally think this project is good and does not deserve to end this way. Much love to everyone, once again remember to have empathy to everyone.

[not-gray-politics]

hey by the way I don't know who needs to hear this but harassment isn't criticism. I see people in youtube shorts comments sections (which is basically its own circle of hell tbh) just straight up cyberbullying people all the time and I saw one comment in a flood of fatphobic harassment targeting a girl who makes fashion videos that was like "I see she's blocking ppl who criticize her again, how confident" and it's like.... where's the criticism. point me to it. show me any constructive, balanced advice here. All I see is a bunch of 14 year olds and millenials who peaked in high school and can't cope going "EWWWWW SHES TOO FAT FOR THIS OUTFIT". On that note as well, being confident in who you are and your values as a person does not mean you have to listen to weirdos online who want to shit on you for it. It's not hypocritical to say that you're confident while also valuing your time enough to not allow complete strangers online to waste it.

[pizzapottah]

young love

summary: the youngest malfoy meets the famous harry potter, not knowing that he'll be a big, big part of her life one day.

pairing: harry j. potter x malfoy!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: some depiction of health problems, mention of premature birth, mention of being underweight, overbearing parents (?) let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: hii! this is the first ever fanfic i post on this site, so, please be kind. english is not my first language (tell me if i missed any mistakes!) so constructive criticism is accepted and greatly appreciated! i thought of this as the first part of a series that i have in mind, so, enjoy <3

ps: yes, i changed draco's birthday for the plot. no regrets.

when you met harry potter for the first time, it obviously was on platform 9¾.

you had always been quite a weak child. born on the 1st of august 1980 after a gruesome labor and almost a month before the due date, always the smallest amongst your friends and family, often used to miss occasions and such because of your poor health. constantly coddled by your parents - more likely, your mother - who for your whole childhood dreaded the day they would have had to send you to hogwarts. 

when the day came, they both had already made peace with it. as a witch and as a malfoy, you had to go to hogwarts - or else, what might other people think? said lucius, when narcissa tried convincing him of hiring a tutor at the manor to teach at home for at least the first years. 

against all the odds, you were happy about going to hogwarts. it would have meant not having the prying gazes of your parents on you all the time, being free from all the house-elves constantly watching to ensure you didn’t faint or hurt yourself while trying to do things other children did without a struggle - and, last but not least, hopefully not being a victim of your brothers protectiveness anymore. 

draco malfoy - your older brother, born not even a year before you on the 5th of september - was a precocious child, but not the kind you were. while you were born early and always ended up being the last, he seemed to be ages ahead of you and all of his peers. he had a malice that you hadn’t quite matured yet - obviously inherited by your dear father - and was able to have a pretty mean way with words. sometimes, you feared that one day, all the sly remarks and insults that he reserved for the people that he despised would be directed to you. more often than not, he was straight up cruel rather than mean. 

but still, he was your brother, and you loved him. hogwarts probably would become the place where he could finally forget about his poor, sick sister that always slowed him down. 

so, when not even ten minutes after your parents left your kitten disappeared, you wanted to bury yourself from embarrassment. nibbles had never been the easiest cat, hating the carrier almost as much as she hated everyone but you, and it was certainly not the first time she managed to escape her cage. 

you wanted to sit down and cry. you hadn't even arrived at hogwarts yet and everything was already going downhill. you were running up and down the platform, searching for your cat, probably looking crazy while you screamed her name. draco was surely already on the train, and you didn’t want to bother him as he was probably with all his friends. 

as you ran, you slammed against a boy whom you didn’t even see - he just came out from nowhere, you swore, but still… 

‘i am so, so sorry…’ the boy was on the ground, just like you, but had a slower reaction and you managed to get up first. seeing a pair of glasses - now broken glasses - on the floor, you immediately gave them back to him, babbling a string of apologies while helping him to get back up. you kept a hold on his hand while rambling, ‘i am really sorry for your glasses, i didn’t mean to break them, i shouldn’t have been running around-’ the screech of the hogwarts express made you yelp, making you enter an even worse panic - where the hell are you, nibbles? - “i am so sorry, but have you seen my cat? her name is nibbles, she’s about this big, with grey and white fur - she’s a birman, her snout is all brown - she probably hisses at anyone who tries to approach - please, please, tell me that you’ve seen her!’

the boy was all skin and bones, wearing clothes that were clearly too big for him, with untamed locks of black hair on his head - he probably hadn’t brushed them since forever - and two big green eyes that just stared back at you. he looked at you speechless, like he never fell on the ground in his whole life and he was happy that you knocked him out. you still held his hand, waiting for an answer. ‘...so?’

‘excuse me, dear,’ a kind voice echoed. ‘is this the cat you’re searching for?’

removing your attention from the boy, you looked at the woman who spoke - a red-haired, chubby and oh-so-kindly looking woman - who was pointing to a red-haired man. he held nibbles at arm’s length, with his face covered in scratches, while behind him three boys that were clearly their sons were laughing, holding back their tears when the birman tried to scratch him again and then hissed. 

‘nibbles!’ you screeched, immediately running up to the man to grab your cat, apologizing profusely, not even knowing what to say. ‘i am so, so, so sor-’

the woman and her husband waved you off with a gentle smile. ‘don’t worry, dear, you better go now, or you won’t find a place to sit! first year, am i right? still not enough friends to keep a cabin occupied.’ 

you just nodded, thanking them again, and ran to the hogwarts express. thankfully, all your belongings had already been placed there by the house-elves that accompanied you and your family to the platform, and you could count on daphne and theodore to save you a seat. when you finally managed to sit down, you were out of breath and probably your hair looked like a mess, but at least nibbles didn’t become a stray. when they looked at you, your friends bursted out laughing, only stopping when nibbles launched at theo and tried to bite off his nose. 

the rest of the day was pretty normal - well, as normal as the first day at a school like hoghwarts can be - but when you met that skinny boy - the one with green eyes and too-big clothes - you didn’t realize that you missed a big (vital, almost) detail about him. 

the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. 

harry potter was sure he was dreaming. 

while he watched you run away with your cat in your arms to get on the train, his mouth fell open. he was certain he had never seen a girl as pretty as you, and he was also sure that yours was probably the first sincere apology he had ever heard since… well, since he could remember. it had nothing to do with dudley’s mockery sorrys, and it surely wasn’t a forced apology like the ones he had heard when he was at school. she was really sorry. probably he should’ve been mad that you broke his glasses, but at least, he had proof that you actually existed and he wasn't hallucinating. 

‘are you alright, dear? i know that all of this probably looks unbelievable for you.’ mrs weasley placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a kind of worry that he imagined only a mother could show. 

harry looked at his hand - the one you held. ‘i think it’s the first time in my whole life that a girl has held my hand and has talked to me willingly.’ near them, the twins and ron bursted out laughing again.

and that same evening, when the sorting of the houses begins and harry sees you go up to the seat when another malfoy is called and ron is sprouting poison in his ear about your family and your whole lineage, he silently hopes that you get put in gryffindor - where he’s just been sorted. 

obviously, as destiny has its strange ways, it doesn’t happen. and after a minute or two of uncertainty, the talking hat places you where draco has just been sorted to. and between the claps and the cheering of the students, you go and sit next to your brother - on the slytherin table.

the second time you met harry potter - and the time you actually consider as the first time meeting him, despite him always arguing that in fact, it was not  - it was already january and five months had passed since your first encounter. you stood by the window of the library, watching your friends play in the snow, without you. 

when you and draco came back home for christmas, you first caught a cold, followed almost immediately by a high fever. the mediwizard said it probably was because of the weather, and your weak build just reacted badly to it. he recommended you to not get too exposed to the cold for the foreseeable future, and to always stay covered up. it was clear that your parents had taken that seriously.

so, now, no matter how much you beg professor snape, he won’t let you go out. your parents have been strict about this matter, miss malfoy, he said. and i can’t let an all-O student get sick, now, can i? who will answer my questions in class?

hermione granger, you had wanted to say, but didn’t. snape’s distaste for her, or any other gryffindor for that matter, was clear and plain. you were sick of always being kept behind a glass like some fragile object - people get sick, so what? during your time at hogwarts, your health got better. for the first time ever in your life, you felt like you were really healthy, as you finally gained some pounds and were no longer underweight. also, your skin took on a lively color, leaving behind your usually pale and sick incarnate. you were starting to suspect that malfoy manor was the problem. maybe it was cursed. 

though, draco never had any health problem. he could go out and play - but instead, as any other saturday, he probably was in his room, sleeping, or in the slytherin common room, talking with his friends about all the presents their parents got him for christmas.

and as you were commiserating yourself by the window, you didn’t notice a certain green-eyed boy looking at you. 

harry thought that he was wasting a saturday by spending it at the library, trying to understand snape’s assignments, but that was until he saw you. when he first noticed, he tried to not give it much thought. he just hoped that your brother wasn’t there with you. 

but as time went on, draco was nowhere to be seen. and you just stood there, propped up by the window, looking like the saddest person he’d ever seen. harry was conflicted - he knew you weren’t like your brother, or even like most of the slytherins. you always helped neville during potions, trying to alleviate snape’s hate against him, even when the professor said to him to stop slowing you down. you often offered to hermione to confront your assignments before turning them in, creating a strange friendship based on the purpose of getting the highest score possible together. you never took part in your brother’s bullying, and hermione described you as the sweetest person she ever met. ‘she always wants to apologize,’ she said once. ‘for her brother and his friends, i mean, but i don’t let her. it’s not her fault that her brother is such an imbecile.’ 

‘oh, yes,’ replied ron, skeptical. ‘kindness, a typical malfoy trait, am i right? hermione, she’s brainwashing you.’

they argued back and forth, until harry intervened. ‘i met her, once,’ he mumbled. ‘she’s nice.’

‘oh, you mean when she knocked you out on platform 9¾?’ snorted the weasley. ‘don’t be so stupid, harry, she was just searching for her ugly cat. she probably didn’t even care that you fell. besides, the scratches it gave to my dad’s face tormented him for days. he said that some of them even left a scar.’

harry frowned. ‘she apologized a hundred times - and you were laughing while her cat scratched your dad’s face!’

‘yeah, because i didn’t know it was malfoy’s cat and it would have left scars!’

‘right now, you’re being just like malfoy,’ seethed hermione, getting up from her seat. ‘judgy and full of prejudice. did you know what she said about you, and your family? she said that your parents were really nice to her and that she hopes to meet them again to thank them properly. she says that the twins’ pranks are hilarious, and that she wants to be prefect like percy one day. and she proposed to me many times to let you study with us, so that your grades could get better with our help. and do you know why i said no, ron?’ she glared at him, making him shiver. ‘because i knew you hated her, even if she never did anything to you.’ after that, she took her leave, leaving behind a red-faced ron and a really embarassed harry. 

remembering the conversations they had, harry looked at you, and thought that in the small time he had known her, hermione was almost always right - even if sometimes he didn’t want to admit it. and gathering all the courage that he had, he got up from his seat and approached you. 

‘hi,’ he said. you turned around to look at him, and gave him a smile. ‘oh, harry,’ you said. in the last few months, he visibly gained a few pounds too - that was a nice thing, you thought, because you knew from hermione that his aunt and uncle barely fed him, and you remembered how skinny he was at the platform. it seemed like hogwarts was treating the both of you well. ‘hi.’ you darted your eyes from him to the table where he was sitting, seeing the homework sprawled out on the surface. ‘were you doing snape’s assignments?’

harry scratched his neck nervously. ‘well, yes, but it’s not like i was really succeeding.’ 

you laughed lightly - a sound that made his cheeks red. ‘yeah, snape’s homework is not made for actually succeeding, really. you just have to pass.’

harry looked out of the window, frowning at the sight of your friends playing in the snow. ‘why don’t you go with them? it’s surely more fun than staying here alone. i’m here because i have to, i mean, but hermione told me you and her finished the assignment yesterday.’

you grimaced. ‘i was sick during the holidays, thus my parents don’t want me going out, now, and they even told snape, who makes sure that i actually stay in the castle. so, i’m stuck here. i like the library, so it doesn’t really matter.’ it actually does matter, you wanted to say, but you were sure that harry couldn’t care less about your problems. instead, he made a face. ‘what? can he actually do that?’ he wouldn't know, he doesn’t have parents that care about him - in the rare times where he fell ill, the dursleys barely even gave him any medicine, and always sent him to school, despite the weather.

‘well, i mean, yeah. he’s friends with my dad, and i know he can be really pressuring sometimes.’ you tried to smile at him. ‘do you need help with potions? i’m kinda sick of watching my friends having fun and doing nothing.’

harry didn’t want to bother you - or worse, give another reason to draco to make fun of him. ‘don’t worry, i’ll mana-’ seeing your pout made him stop and relent. after a brief pause, he said: ‘of course you can help me, if you want,’

that was how it started. in the weekends - mostly it was on saturdays - when the library was empty, you would help him with his homework (mainly potions, and you were quite proud of the fact that harry started to get higher scores, even if snape continuously suggested that he was cheating on his tests) and he would keep your mind off of your friends. you didn’t want to hold them back from having fun, so it was okay. 

until one day, harry came to the library late. it was already february, and probably the snow would have melted soon. it wasn’t really snowing anymore, and all the students spent their free time out in the gardens, trying to enjoy the last bits of winter. he was out of breath and had the biggest smile on his face. he said your name, ‘do you wanna go and build a snowman?’

you smiled sadly at him. ‘harry, you know i can’t. but if you want to, you can go. i won’t be mad at you for going without me.’

he shook his head vehemently. ‘no, no,’ he said. ‘i asked, do you wanna go and build a snowman?’

‘well, i mean, i would like to, but-’

‘no “buts”,’ he interrupted you, ‘go and change - wear your coat, put on a hat and other things like that to stay warm. today professor mcgonagall is keeping an eye on the students, so, we just have to bypass snape. let’s see each other in 30 on the second-floor girls’ bathroom.’

you raised an eyebrow at him. ‘why would you want to see me in a girls’ bathroom?’

he blushed. ‘do you trust me, or not?’

so you went and changed into something warmer, putting your ear warmer, a scarf and a pair of gloves in your bag. as you exited the girls’ dormitory and entered the slytherin's common room, you found yourself in front of professor snape, who eyed you suspiciously. 

‘miss malfoy,’ he said. ‘great afternoon, is it? i’ve seen all your friends out in the snow.’

‘oh, yes, professor,’ you squeaked. ‘i’m just going to the library, though. wouldn't want to catch a cold and make my parents worry about my health.’ 

he raised an eyebrow, not really convinced, but let you go easily. ‘don’t forget that professor mcgonagall also knows that you can’t go out in the garden, miss malfoy,’ he said at last. 

you barely even heard him, sprinting to the second floor and making sure you weren’t being followed, immediately entering the bathroom. thankfully, moaning myrtle was nowhere to be seen, but you found harry already there, with a bag of his own and looking pretty nervous. ‘you promise not to tell anyone about this?’

‘now, harry, why would i?’

he opened his bag and took out what was inside. your mouth fell open. ‘is that-?’

‘an invisibility cloak? yes, it is.’

you only ever saw one once, in your grandfathers house, behind a glass in one of his cabinets. he never let you or draco touch it, insisting that it was a "collection object" and it wasn’t made for "children who want to play". you knew they were very expensive and rare, and seeing that harry’s one looked really beautiful, you asked yourself where the hell he got it from. 

‘you ready to finally get a bit cold, malfoy?’

professor mcgonagall was watching the students by the window, enjoying some tea and reading a book, when severus snape slammed the door of her office open, stomping inside. ‘minerva,’ he greeted, all but happy. ‘can you tell me how miss malfoy managed to sneak under our noses and get outside?’

unbothered, she looked out of the window and saw that yes, actually, you were out in the snow, covered well, making a snowman with hermione granger, harry potter, daphne greengrass and theodore nott. ‘i don’t see the problem, severus. she’s enjoying herself and is happy with her friends. it’s the first time i see her smile this wide.’

snape raised an eyebrow. ‘yes, and i suppose, it’s also the first time you see her in the snow. out. in the gardens. where her parents specifically asked to not let her go.’

then minerva suddenly remembered - merlin, she can’t go out in the cold. the five-page letter your parents sent dumbledore where they said that their daughter couldn’t be allowed out there for ‘poor health reasons’ immediately came to her mind, and she paled. 

she got up, leaving her book and tea behind, sprinting down the stairs to get to the gardens, snape close behind her. ‘miss malfoy!’ she yelled once she got there, without even having her coat on. ‘miss malfoy, come here at once!’

she saw your friends pale, and your face fall. the snowman, by then, was almost completed. the professor felt guilty instantly. how many years has it been, since i’ve seen gryffindors and slytherins get along? 

you got up from the snow and sniffled, sad. ‘thanks, guys,’ you said. ‘that was really fun.’ 

with your head low, you went to your teachers, preparing yourself for the scolding you were surely about to get. at least, they waited until you were inside the castle to start. ‘i never thought you capable of this, miss malfoy,’ started snape. ‘putting yourself in danger, going against your parents’ wishes and the mediwizard precautions - do you want to get sick? don’t you think that if you can’t go out, it’s just for your own good-’

‘now, now, severus,’ a voice interrupted. dumbledore, who was going down the stairs and heard the commotion, looked kindly at you. ‘she just wanted to have some fun. it’s been two months from her illness, am i right? she’s taking her medicines and taking care of herself. don’t get mad at her if she wants to play with her friends; she’s a child, and that’s what children do!’

he approached him and looked at you, smiling widely. ‘why don’t you go back to your friends, miss malfoy? i’m sure they’ll be delighted to hear that from now on, you won’t need to sneak in the garden anymore to play with them - you have my permission to go out during free time.’

your eyes sparkled. ‘really, professor?’ he chuckled. ‘really, missy.’

‘albus-’ professor mcgonagall tried to intercede, ‘her parents, they are gonna be furious if they find out about this-’

‘well, they don’t have to know, now, do they?’ he sent a look at snape. ‘and even if they find out, don’t worry, i’ll take full responsibility.’ 

professor snape huffed indignantly, turning in his heel and stomping away. 'unbelievable,’ he grumbled. dumbledore looked at you expectantly. ‘now, what are you waiting for, child? you can go. that beautiful snowman needs to be finished, and it looks clear to me that your friends won't complete it without you.’

you stood up straighter. ‘i, i, thank you, professor!’ you stammered, then ran away, going back to your friends, who were all discussing with each other, asking if they should go and try to help you out or just let it be. when they saw you, they all cheered loudly, asking immediately how it went and how many points the teachers took from slytherin.

‘albus,’ murmured minerva, watching you from the window. ‘don’t you think that it’s a reckless decision? you know that severus is going to tell the malfoys. and, poor her, she’s a weak child, do you remember how lucius malfoy described her illness in that letter?’

dumbledore hummed, deep in thought. ‘that child is in perfect health, minerva.’

she raised an eyebrow. ‘are you suggesting that the malfoys are lying? and for what? to ruin their daughter’s first year? you know how much the malfoys care about their children - they’d never do that to her.’

he shook his head. ‘no, i think the malfoys worry is legitimate. they don’t understand the cause of the problem, though, i fear.’ he looked at the snowman, almost completed, and then at you, who was searching for rocks to make him buttons. ‘children are fragile creatures. you never know how what you say, or what you do, will affect them. i am afraid that the malfoys have always been too overprotective of her, not wanting her to get hurt or sick - but sometimes, the more you fear and try to avoid a thing, the more it happens. children need to play with their friends - need friends -, need to play in the sun, and even fall and get hurt, once in a while. that’s what makes children children, am i right? she’s getting more healthy day by day, and i don’t think i’ve ever seen her smile like that - though i know i’m not around that much, i’m sure you can agree with me. we both know that growing in malfoy manor certainly won’t make anyone a happier child than they already are. draco surely loves that ambient - somewhere where everyone is at his beck and call, where he is revered by the servants and can feel all the wealth of his family - but what happens when one does not see all that, but just sees a too-big gloomy house?’

he quietly chuckled, looking at you and harry. ‘and - would you look at that, minerva! look at harry’s smile.’

she looked and immediately melted, knowing the look on the boys face - the flushed cheeks, the wide pupils, the biggest smile she’d ever seen (that’s not true, she remembered, that's the same smile james potter had when he looked at lily evans) while he talked to you. ‘yes, albus,’ she mumbled, deep in thought. ‘merlin. harry really is the copy of his father, isn’t he?’

dumbledore laughed. ‘ah, first love,’ he said, amused. ‘i just know he’ll remember her for his whole life, even if she ends up not liking him.’

‘a potter and a malfoy,’ mumbled mcgonagall. ‘never thought i’d ever see it in my life. is there anything more surprising than young love?’

the divider is from @saradika-graphics! <3

[oleander-nin]

I’ve been playing dead by daylight lately ; and now I’m wondering how would the the general yandere rise turtles hcs react if reader made a bet with them if there beat them in DbD , the boys will let the reader go and if reader loses the reader stays with the boys forever.

A/N, not important: Sorry for the wait. Also I have no clue of what Dead by Daylight is, so I just kind of made it a general thing of any game you might play. Also I misread your ask and didn't add the losing rule. My bad, sorry. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Lying, breaking a deal/promise, isolation mention, kidnapped reader, dark themes, yandere themes, mentions of violence

Words: 2057

Summary: Headcanons of if you made a bet to be set free.

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay @lexiechr

Michelangelo:

He doesn’t like the idea of it. He’ll ignore your requests at first, especially if you’re not asking him straight up. If you keep pushing it, he’ll finally sit down with you and let you talk. He doesn’t like it at all, mostly because the entire point is to gain your freedom. Mikey was certain he’d made it clear you’d never leave him.

He might concede after a while. After all, you’re both just playing a game, and you must know he’s not actually letting you go, right? You’re happy with him, this has to just be some emotional thing you’re going through, and you want to win a game. He doesn’t mind indulging you in that, especially since there’s no harm in it. It’s just a game.

He doesn’t take the game very seriously when you first start playing. He’s just happy to play the game with you and try to bond. He doesn’t even make his own condition if he wins because it’s not like he’s letting you go anyways. It’s no more of a bet than calling someone a rotten egg after a race. 

If you’re losing/lost:

He ignores the devastation on your face, smiling widely at you as he shifts closer to you. He was ecstatic you were spending time with him, and you seemed so happy and serious while playing the game. It’s clear you enjoyed it, and you weren’t even fighting him while playing!

He tries to make a night out of it, quickly ordering pizza and bringing in drinks and candy as he starts to set up different games. He’ll make you happy, he swears. Just stop pouting and come play.

Mikey relies on your love, so he’ll keep playing with you until you seem to be opening up again. He’ll pull you close and kiss you after every game, trying to wear you down. If you’re trying to avoid him, or want to quit after a while, Mikey will ignore your protests and hold you close. He’s a bit upset seeing you genuinely sad that you lost. He makes a note to cook your favorite tomorrow, just to show you being with him wasn’t all that bad. I mean, if you really wanted to leave, you would have tried to run. Clearly he’s doing something right.

If you’re winning/won:

He just leans over and gives you a kiss for doing such a good job before asking if you wanted to play again. He likes seeing you so excited over winning, ignoring the fact you were happy because you thought you’d get to leave.

Gets upset when you demand he let you go, his frustration growing as you get more insistent that you deserve to leave. Mikey finally puts his foot down, harshly telling you you’re never leaving him. He’s not losing you, ever.

If you keep trying to fight him on it, he’ll just pull out your old chains and start treating you like when you first got there. No more privileges, no more opinions, no more leaving his side. You’re stuck in his room until you decide to drop your silly thought of getting away.

You really needed to learn you weren’t ever leaving him, and he’ll teach you by any means necessary.

Donatello:

When you first bring it up, he’d laugh. Why would you be serious about such a thing? Not only are you saying you want to leave him, but you also think you’d beat him at a video game. It’s absurd.

When he realizes you’re serious, he’ll consider it for a moment before agreeing. He’s a bit peeved you really want to try and ‘win’ your freedom, but he’s willing to stay calm and see how this goes. Especially since he could get something from you if you lose. He makes you swear that if you lose, you’ll start showing him more affection as a payoff. 

When you both first start playing, he’s not only determined to beat you, he wants to crush you. He’s heavily insulted by your want to play the game for something you should know you’ll never get. The only reason he agrees in the first place is because he knows this is the first time you’ve willingly played a game with him. It’s not like you actually tried to escape, only asked for it. He’d take that over you making a break for it any day.

If you’re losing/lost:

He’ll gloat the entire time. He’s mad at you, and is incredibly competitive. Those don’t exactly mix well.

If at any point you seem to be starting to gain the upper hand, he’ll subtly cheat to keep you down. He wants to end the match as soon as he can so you have less time to possibly win. 

Is so smug when he beats you, he feels the entire ordeal worth it. He doesn’t even feel like punishing you for trying to gain your freedom in the first place. He liked being able to play with you, even at the stakes.

Will absolutely expect you to uphold your end of the deal. If he tries to hug you or kiss you after and you try to push him away, he’ll remind you of the deal. He loves seeing the defeat on your face as you give into him.

If you’re winning/won:

Slowly gets more frustrated as the game goes on. He’s not worried about you leaving, he’s not letting that happen even if he ‘promised’, but he’s still salty you’re beating him.

He’ll cheat, whether by messing with your controller/person, or hacking the game and completely nerfing you. He hates losing.

If you are able to win despite his cheating, he’ll probably let his anger boil over. Not only did you ask to be granted freedom, but by the terms, you technically earned it. He’s furious and might start yelling at you, or accusing you of cheating as well. When you try to get him to keep the terms of the deal, he’ll just snap at you to shut up and will get more furious at every mention of it.

You’ll probably end up in isolation for a few days to weeks afterwards. Enjoy your freedom.

Raphael:

Raph gets incredibly frustrated the first time you ask. Why would you want to leave? You’re safe with him, and he loves you. You asking to leave like that is a bit of a punch to the gut.

He gets more clingy with you for a while, always slinging you over his shoulder when he needs to go to a different room, and holding you tighter at night. He’s afraid you’ll try and make a break for it at some point now, so he makes sure to not let you out of his sight. 

Raph doesn’t want to play the game with you at all. He doesn’t like the bet placed on it, and it just makes him angry every time you bring it up. He does eventually break down and agree to do it, but it’s mostly to get you to stop asking. At no point does he plan to let you go, no matter what he promised you.

If you’re losing/lost:

He feels a bit bad because you seem so upset, but knowing why you were so upset boils his blood. He’ll lightly tease you to get you to cheer up and let it go, hoping you’d both be able to just forget this and move past it. It was just a little game that he wasn’t taking seriously, so neither should you.

He’ll hold you close afterwards, feeling mostly relieved. You lost on your own terms, so he knew you wouldn’t try to argue with him. If you try to insist on another match, or to try a different game, he’ll just shut you down.

Tries his best to make you happy and tells you how much better it is with him. If you were gone and without his protection, you could be hurt. He tries to remind you of all the villains he’s fought and makes up recent cases and such to try and show you that being with him is better.

If you’re winning/won:

A bit bitter he lost, but just kisses your head and compliments your skills of the game. As you wait for him to let go of you, or bring you to the sewer entrance, and he does no such thing, you start to get upset.

Raph pays no mind to your whining, cursing, or demands, just hugging you close as he silently waits for you to calm down. He tries to be gentle, but gosh you were just being so awful and it’s not really his fault he squeezed you just a bit too hard.

Raph will make sure to keep a tighter grip on you for the next few months. He doesn't trust you to not try and make a break for it now. He stays within arms length of you at all times, and if he ever has to leave, he has you chained to the wall. He’s sorry about it, he swears, but you really are better off with him. One day you’ll see that, he’s sure of it.

Leonardo:

Silently furious at the request, but immediately agrees. With one caveat, of course. If you lose, you have to start acting like you love him. Be affectionate, call him pet names, stop flinching, the whole nine yards.

He’s not worried about you winning, mostly because he’d never actually set you free. Leaving him isn’t an option, not not, not ever. You’re his true love, his soulmate, and no silly bet you’ve made will change that. As far as Leo’s concerned, he’s gaining more than he’s losing from this deal. You’ll still have to hold up your end after all.

Leo has you sit in his lap while you play, mostly because he’s afraid you’d try to make a break for it after you realize he’s not letting you go. After you proposed the initial deal, he lost most trust in you. He’s not going to take any chances.

If you’re losing/lost:

Teases you relentlessly. You suggested playing for your freedom, you took the chance and even chose the game, and you couldn’t even win. Leo thought it was hilarious.

If you whine or backtalk at all, he brings up the terms of the bet while he covers your face in kisses. He’s overjoyed you lost and now have to follow your part of the deal. He’s immediately showering you in affection because he knows you can’t push him away for it.

He’s incredibly smug that he won too, almost forgetting about how angry he was about the deal in the first place. You lost, and now you have to commit to being his forever. By your own doing, you’re stuck pretending to love him until you actually do. He can’t see anything wrong with the arrangement. He’s completely ecstatic.

If you’re winning/won:

A bit peeved at first, mostly because he’s annoyed he lost. His arms grow tighter around you as he stays silent for a few moments. He can hear you clearly telling him to let go and honor his half of the bargain, but why should he? It was a stupid game, and you don’t get to leave.

As you get more erratic, he finally figures out what he wants to do. With gritted teeth, he slowly lets you go so you could leave. He tries to not get angry at the joyous look on your face as you realize he’s upholding his end.

He watches you leave the room, his eyes trained on your back as you run towards the entrance. He’s not too worried, his mind thinking through every small possibility in case his plan goes wrong. He reaches over to the side of his bed and grabs one of his katana’s, the room quickly encased in a bright glow.

Within seconds, you’re back in his lap as Leo’s face nuzzles into your neck. Leo pays no mind to your surprised and tensed form, his arms tight around you. Every angry cry and scream goes ignored while Leo holds you close.

He can’t help but smile as he reminds you that he never agreed to not hunt you back down.

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Good Omens incorrect quotes:

Aziraphale: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

Crowley, drinking toast: Why do you say that?

~

Aziraphale: Violence isn't the answer.

Crowley: You’re right.

Aziraphale: *sighs in relief*

Crowley: Violence is the question.

Aziraphale: What?

Crowley, bolting away: And the answer is yes.

Aziraphale, running after them: NO-

~

Aziraphale: Do you take constructive criticism?

Crowley: I only take cash or credit.

~

Aziraphale: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Crowley: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

~

Aziraphale: *Kicks the door down looking panicked*

Crowley: What did you do?

Aziraphale: Nobody died.

Crowley: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

~

Aziraphale: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Crowley: Killed without hesitation.

Aziraphale: No.

~

*how season 3 should start*

Aziraphale: Top 30 reasons why Aziraphale is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Crowley: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

~

Crowley: You're right.

Aziraphale: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

~

Beelzebub: I’m going to take you out

Gabriel: great, it’s a date!

Beelzebub: I meant that as a threat.

Gabriel: See you at five!

~

Crowley: *Walking in to a room* Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things.

*Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder*

Gabriel: *Out of breath* THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

~

Beelzebub: I made tea.

Crowley: I don’t want tea.

Beelzebub: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Crowley: Then why are you telling me?

Beelzebub: It is a conversation starter.

Crowley: That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Beelzebub: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

~

Aziraphale: This is bothering me.

Crowley: Well, you are digging up a corpse.

Aziraphale: No, not that. That's, uh, pretty par for the course, actually.

~

Aziraphale: Whaddya call a fish with no eye?

Gabriel, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons

Aziraphale:

Aziraphale: fsh

~

Crowley: God, give me patience.

Gabriel: I think you mean 'give me strength'.

Crowley: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead.

~

Aziraphale: You know, not every problem can be solved with a sword.

Crowley: That's why I carry two swords.

~

Gabriel: So what’s for dinner?

Beelzebub, staring at the food they just burnt: Regret.

~

Muriel: Why are you on the floor?

Crowley: I'm depressed.

Crowley: Also I was stabbed, can you get Aziraphale, please.

~

Store Worker: Would a Mr. Fell please come to the front desk?

Aziraphale, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker: points to Crowley and Muriel

Store Worker: I believe they belong to you?

Crowley and Muriel, simultaneously: We got lost :(

Aziraphale: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

~

Muriel: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Crowley: The cow???

Muriel: What?

Aziraphale: Crowley, W H Y?

~

Aziraphale: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Crowley?

Crowley: … No.

Muriel: I do!

Aziraphale: I know, Muriel.

Muriel: I’m sad!

Aziraphale: I know, Muriel.

~

Muriel: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time?

Crowley: The car takes a screenshot.

Aziraphale: For the last time, get the fuck out.

~

Crowley: Aziraphale and I don’t use pet names.

Nina: I see. Hey, what are those things with the halos called again??

Crowley: Angel?

Aziraphale: Yes, dear?

Crowley:

Nina: Don't ever lie to my face again.

~

Muriel: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.

Crowley: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Aziraphale isn’t

~

Aziraphale: We need a distraction.

Crowley: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Muriel, whispering: My time has come

~

Aziraphale: Let me show you a picture from last night that really upset me

Muriel: Okay, but in my defense, Mr. Crowley bet me 50 cents I couldn’t drink all that shampoo.

Aziraphale: That’s not what I wanted to- you drank SHAMPOO?!

~

Aziraphale: Crowley, keep an eye on Gabriel today. They're going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Crowley: Sure, I’d love to see Gabriel get punched.

Aziraphale: Try again.

Crowley, sighing: I will stop Gabriel from getting punched.

~

Maggie: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Crowley: I'm a knife.

Aziraphale, from across the room: They're the little spoon.

~

Aziraphale, driving Crowley and Muriel: So how was your day?

Muriel: We almost got surprise adopted!

Aziraphale: What?

Crowley: We almost got kidnapped.

Aziraphale: Oh, okay.

Aziraphale: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?

~

Aziraphale: You have to apologize to Gabriel

Crowley: Fine.

Crowley: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

~

Crowley: Hey angel,

Aziraphale: Yes?

Crowley: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Aziraphale:

Aziraphale: Where’s Gabriel?

~

Aziraphale: WHY. why did you give Muriel a KNIFE?!

Crowley: I’m sorry. They said they felt unsafe.

Aziraphale: Now I feel unsafe!

Crowley: I’m sorry.

Crowley: ... would you like a knife?

~

Muriel: Hey, Mr. Crowley? Can I get some dating advice?

Crowley: Just because I’m with Aziraphale doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

~

Aziraphale: Crowley and I are having a baby.

Muriel: That's gre-

Aziraphale, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

~

Muriel: Are you sure this is the right direction?

Crowley: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest!

Aziraphale: In that case, we're definitely lost

~

Muriel: What do you think Mr. Crowley will do for a distraction?

Aziraphale: They’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*

Aziraphale: ... or they could do that.

~

Aziraphale: I trust Crowley.

Muriel: You think they know what they're doing?

Aziraphale: I wouldn't go that far.

~

Aziraphale: While I’m gone, Muriel, you’re in charge.

Muriel: Yes!!!

Aziraphale, whispering: Crowley, you’re secretly in charge.

Crowley: Obviously.

~

Aziraphale: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Crowley: *turning to Gabriel* How tall are you?

[ztarduzted]

So like the Illymation drama????

vile take I support illy like fully I don’t get the people who don’t rn

So like ok ok don’t get me wrong, illy isn’t like perfect 100% by any means but who is??? That one carrot and chocolate thing she said in her video could have been worded better but cmon, it’s really not that big of a deal, for the most part you out understand what she was saying. The video that TBYS posted wasn’t “criticism” the way that people are trying to say it was. People are trying to play it off as just a normal constructive criticism video, but if your “constructive criticism” includes like two whole minutes of making fun of someone’s appearance for no reason, I’m concerned. Illy’s response was a bit immature, but I understand where she’s coming from. She said not to send hate and to just take down that one video, not his whole platform, because it was damaging her reputation and mental health because TBYS never even tried to make a statement telling people not to harass illy and she got sent hate for it. People are blowing it way out of proportion saying she was trying to “deplatform him” when she just wanted one video taken down because it was causing her to be deplatformed, and she never even talked about it to her actual YouTube audience, just the small community on tumblr, then TBYS made two more hate filled videos and people just kept dog piling on her. If your gonna get mad at someone for “deplatforming” a known homophobe and transphobe, maybe practice what you preach. And alongside that, I know that some sources were shown in TBYS’s original videos, but there were no links in the descriptions, and absolutely nothing in any of the response videos I’ve seen. There was one video I saw just speculating that all of her doctors were dumb and lied to her, and TBYS also said that most doctors that specialize and make money from being good at nutrition were just wrong. Also, that one response video I mentioned tried to claim gym bros were better at health than licensed professionals???????? It just feels like this is all a massive, overblown hate campaign to a creator because of mistakes. There’s a difference between constructive criticism and just making fun of someone, and while some things that TBYS said were understandable, he made a point to straight up make fun of illy in the middle of his video, not even attempt to stop his fans from harassing illy, then when she replied (and barley received any backlash mind you), he blew up making more videos sending more and more hate and trying to ruin illy’s career. I know illy could have clarified that one point in her video and acted more maturely about the situation, but people are entirely overlooking the fact that TBYS was no where near “perfect” in this situation. (Also, final note, yes, you can absolutely be fat and healthy, saying otherwise is just wrong and makes no sense. Do your research before making half hour long videos making fun of someone)

I assume this drama will just die eventually and people will move on, but either way, I’m going to continue watching and supporting Illy no matter what. She’s a fantastic content creator, and when that video first came out (and there wasn’t some dude bro on the internet telling me it was bad) I absolutely loved at and had a great time watching it. It made me feel really good about myself (since I’ve been exercising daily and been working on myself a lot, but I’ve seen little to no weight loss despite eating healthy and going on a calorie deficit and working hard. It turns out I have something up with my thyroid, and along with that, part of it is just genetics.) I’d started feeling really bad and was trying to eat the bare minimum and it was making it harder to work out and I was feeling sick all the time. One day I was staying home because I felt sick, and I watched illy’s video. It’s not like one video is going to fix my relationship with food, but it has helped. I’m still not losing weight, but I’m getting stronger, feeling better, and eating healthier. Despite all this drama, illy’s videos have helped me feel more comfortable being myself and I will continue supporting her. And Illy, if you’re (somehow) seeing this, just know that there are some people that want to see you fail, but there are so so many more people that love you and your content.