#anyway. let’s all pretend to be normal about this

[ladylaviniya]

AUGUST SAID “panties off” AND I SAID “how fast, Sir” LIKE?????? he really just said “you’ve lost the privilege of my name” and now i’m like OKAY SORRY MY BAD 😭✋ i didn't mean to breathe wrong pls don't punish me too good 😩💦

and THEN… this man had the AUDACITY… to roll up his sleeves like a sexy evil librarian on a warpath and i swear to god i had to go LIE DOWN

LIKE BABE DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THOSE FOREARMS DO TO ME??? no you don’t. AND IT’S ILLEGAL ANYWAY. SEND HIM TO JAIL. or actually don’t. SEND HIM TO MY BEDROOM WITH THE FLOGGER TYVM 😩💖

AND THEN HE SAID

“crawl.” AND I JUST CRAWLED. like a little enchanted slug in love. AND THE PLUG. THE PLUGGGG 😭😭😭

THE WAY I SCREAMED when he turned on the vibe like bffr??? sir that was a CRIME AGAINST MY SANITY. i am just a girl with a vibrating plug and a dream.

also can we TALK about how he said

“if you cum before permission there will be hell to pay” like i'm sorry i didn’t know this was a SURVIVAL QUEST now, sir 😭 do you want me to PASS AWAY because same!!! same bestie i’ll just levitate off this plush carpet into the abyss!!!

AND THE BED SCENE???????

HE’S JUST SITTING THERE LIKE SOME KING ON A THRONE WHILE I WADDLE OVER ON TREMBLING LEGS 😭 and me? silly little babygirl me?? too busy being a menace all day to see the FLOGGING COMING. i shoulda known. i shoulda shut my bratty mouth. but no. i HAD to tease. and now????

now he’s got me ass-up, spread wide like a ✨sinner on display✨ getting a spanking that echoes into the spiritual realm 😭💀

“would you like your wrists cuffed as well?” SIR. SIRRRR. WHY ARE YOU BEING SO NICE WHILE BEING SO MEAN the duality has me WEAK. like yes pls cuff me like a lil doll and kiss my ankles like a romantic serial killer 😩💗

and the way i just say

“yes, Sir” over and over like a good girl 😭🧎‍♀️

like… yes sir, thank you sir, may i have another sir, pls destroy my soul and rearrange my organs in the name of love, sir 😭🙏

what the actual fERAL *FLOGGED-TO-HEAVEN LITEROTICA EXPERIENCE DID I JUST HAVE 😭😭😭😭😭

no bc like—i started reading all casual like “teehee let’s see what’s happening in daddy’s dungeon today” and now i’m sitting here sweaty. stunned. sore by proxy. and in love. 💀💀💀

when i tell you the WHIPLASH from:

“Thwap! Ten!”

to

“All you wanted was attention, am I right?”

LIKE OKAY DAD 😭👏 my heart?? my coochie??? my soul??? all trembled. not a single part of me left unshaken. not ONE.

the way the impact was described??? the sting, the THUD, the “one of the tendrils fell between your spread legs”??? HELLO THAT’S A TARGETED ATTACK AGAINST MY SANITY 😩

and then. AND THEN. the plug. THE PLUG???!! vibrating like a little gremlin inside you while your cheeks are being tenderized like wagyu beef??

AUGUST YOU ARE GOING TO JAIL FOR BEING TOO GOOD AT THIS 😭

also can we talk about the panties-in-the-mouth moment. bc UMMM EXCUSE ME that hit every single “yes i am feral” switch in my brain and now i have to pretend to be normal for the rest of the day and i simply CANNOT.

and the lil hand signal system?? soft dom safety king 😭🫶 like yes please break me but respectfully

but THEN YOU HIT US WITH:

“The heat, the warmth, the tightness.”

girl... girl. that’s not a sentence, that’s a RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE. i was about to say amen and pass out on the church steps like 😇🕊️

and THEN the man starts fucking like a machine possessed??? and he's praising you while doing it??? animalistic hips but romantic words??? that’s my ✨DREAM HALLUCINATION✨ right there.

i genuinely had to pause when you said:

“thank your lucky stars that this is what happens after you accept your fate.”

like omgggg i’m gonna start praying for a fate worth accepting if it means THIS. 🧎‍♀️🙏💒

NOW. LET’S TALK ABOUT THE ANAL.

no warning. no time to prepare. you’re just FWOOMP plug is gone, cock is in, and I AM NOT OKAY 🧍‍♀️

and the worst part?? IT’S SO GENTLY RUDE like he’s praising you while STRETCHING YOU OUT WITH ZERO MERCY???? i had to throw my phone. i had to go lie down. i had to clutch my emotional support plushie and just moan softly into the abyss.

and then that whole “you're mine, now come again” vibe???? while being wrapped up like a little plush toy getting wrung out by a monster dom with a soft heart????

I WAS UNWELL. I AM UNWELL. I WILL REMAIN UNWELL.

and just when you think it’s over and he’s gonna go back to ignoring you like a classic man???

“You were just busy being ignored, Sir.”

THE MIC. HAS BEEN DROPPED. the bratty little dig?? the quiet devastation??? the girl math logic that led you straight to getting destroyed in bed as your love language??? iconic. powerful. queen shit. 👑✨

and AUGUST??? HUMBLED. SPEECHLESS. TURNING THE CAR AROUND AND TAKING YOU ON A ROMANTIC GETAWAY BC HE KNOWS YOU DESERVE BETTER??? yeah that’s my man now. SORRY.

Treat Me Like A Slut

Title: Treat Me Like A Slut

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout

Word Count: 2K

Summary: August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Warnings: m!Dom/f!sub, Dom!August, sub!reader, bondage, flogging, gagging with panties, butt plug, unprotected vaginal sex, unprotected anal sex, creampie

A/N: I wrote this because I needed to get it out of my head. August Walker needs to start paying rent in my head. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by Me

My Masterlist 

“August, please–” You tried to plead with your Dom but he cut you off so fast that it made your head spin.

“You’ve lost your privileges to use my name, Angel. Now, as I was saying, panties off and give them to me.” He reached out his hand expectantly.

You rose from your chair and reached under your dress until you hook your fingers along the waistband of your thong. Pulling it down slowly, you maintain eye contact with August. You step out of it and put them in his waiting hand. Putting the underwear in his pocket, he nods.

“Kneel.” He commands, unbuttoning the cuffs of his deep purple dress shirt and then rolling them up to reveal his hairy, vein-streaked forearms.

“Yes, Sir.” You reply and lower to your knees, knowing that you can’t talk your way out of this one.

“I think it’s time to remind you who’s in charge here, Angel. You seem to have forgotten.” 

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You keep your eyes lowered to the unforgiving wooden floor beneath you.

“I wish I could believe you. Follow me, Angel,” You start to rise before August stops you, “No. You’re to crawl behind me. And one more thing,” He leans down and pushes the button on the bottom of the plug currently nestled inside you.

When it comes to life, you let out a strangled moan. You had been wearing the new plug for hours and weren’t aware of the vibration feature. Starting to squirm, you open your mouth to plead with August.

“Before you even start, this was your doing, wasn’t it? Bothering me while I worked earlier today. And then doing so again not a handful of hours later. It’s almost as if you like being punished, Angel,” He smirks down at you, knowing the last bit to be true, “Hands and knees, follow me.”

Leaving his office, you move as fast as you can behind him. With every movement, you can feel the vibrations against your hole. You try and hide your arousal but your frail resolve betrays you. You let out a groan and are surprised to bump into the solid wall that is August’s leg.

He sighs deeply but doesn’t turn around as he addresses you, “If you cum before you’ve been given permission, there will be hell to pay. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” You force the words out as you struggle to steady your breathing.

When August starts to walk again, you follow him. In your bedroom, happy to be on plush carpeting, you feel yourself begin to relax. Too soon, you find. 

August sits on one side of the four-poster bed you share and beckons you with one finger. You stand on wobbly legs and he pulls you forward and over his lap. You could have figured this is where this day was going to go, but you were too busy being a brat to think of the consequences.

Pulling your dress up over your ass, he massages the flesh of your globes. “You’re going to count these out, Angel. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” You answer and feel August reach over you to the nightstand drawer. You know what’s in that drawer and you stiffen in his lap.

“Oh, now you see the repercussion, huh? If you didn’t want the flogger, you shouldn’t have misbehaved.” He allows you to hold onto his pant leg as he pulls out the aforementioned tool.

He lets the leather tendrils ghost over the skin of your calves and thighs. Raising the flogger above his shoulder, he delivers the first blow.

“One.”

“Hm. This angle…I don’t like it. Up, Angel,” He walks around to the other side of the bed and has you lay down on your stomach in the center of the bed, “Just like that. Now, you are going to keep your legs open for me. If you can’t do that, I can restrain your ankles to the bed just as easily.”

You turn your head behind you and see that the cuffs are already attached to the foot of the bed and your eyebrows raise.

“Angel, if you want to be cuffed, just say so.” He smiles down at you, relishing your excitement.

“Sir, I would like to be restrained.”

“Good girl. I’m proud of you. Would you like your wrists cuffed as well or just the ankles?”

“Wrists and ankles please, Sir.”

“My sweet Angel, as you wish.” He goes about locking both ankles into the heavy cuffs, planting a gentle kiss just above where the leather sits against your skin. Moving to the head of the bed, he locks your wrists into the restraints as well.

You test your mobility and you get a thrill out of the thought of giving complete control to August. You look at him and nod that you are ready to begin. 

“You’re going to count to ten, Angel. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

As he begins his assault on your ass, you count aloud. Every thunderclap is harder and louder than the last. More than once, one of the tendrils falls between your spread legs and slaps against the plug or your netherlips.

Thwap! “Ten!”

August grunts and throws the flogger on the bed. He walks to the end of the bed and surveys his handiwork as he begins to undress. He can see where there will be bruising tomorrow, he’ll remember to go easy on you later. He grins when you wriggle your hips, showing off your still-vibrating plug and leaking cunt. 

Taking your panties out of his pocket before taking his pants off, he walks to the head of the bed where you turn to look at him.

“What color, Angel?”

“Green, Sir.” You smile lazily.

“Good. Open your mouth,” You open your mouth and he stuffs your underwear inside, “Now that you’re gagged, we’re gonna use fingers. Thumb out means good, your first finger means to slow down, and your middle finger means stop. Okay?”

You extend both thumbs and smile around your panties. He caresses your cheek and crawls on the bed, kneeling behind your ass and stroking his thick, hard cock. Reaching over you, he steals a pillow and props your hips up to give him easier access.

Using a finger, he collects some of your pussy juice and swirls it around your clit. You didn’t expect him to use the other hand to scratch down one abused cheek. When that wrangles a moan out of you, he licks and lays kisses upon both cheeks. He peppers in some nibbles on a few sensitive spots on your hips as well.

With you savoring the attention on your bottom, you weren’t expecting for August to enter you in the next breath. The heat, the warmth, the tightness. They welcome him in and elicit a hiss from both of you. 

Pulling out slowly and then slamming back in rocks the bed and it feels amazing. August puts one hand on the back of your neck and one on your hip. Starting his rhythm again, he crashes his hips against yours in an almost animalistic pattern. Rutting into you, he praises you for being such a good girl for him.

Writhing beneath him, you’re forced to take every thrust he dishes out. Feeling him so deep inside you at this angle, you thank your lucky stars that this is what happens after you accept your fate. You get to have this god of a man pounding out your insides in the middle of the day.

You were too in your head to notice when August turns up the vibration on the butt plug. The muffled wail that comes out of your mouth is music to his ears and you feel him twitch inside you, but he doesn’t stop.

No, he’s not going to cum before you do. 

“Don’t hold back, Angel. Come for me. Come all over my cock.” He breathes, the hand on the back of your neck is now moving around to the front as he applies slight pressure to the sides.

Your legs start to shake and you can feel the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. The hand that was at your hip now reaches up to remove the thong from your mouth just in time for you to release a heavenly howl that reverberates through the both of you.

Before you come down from your euphoric high, you feel the plug being removed from your ass. It’s being replaced with the blunt tip of August’s cock and you love the sensation of being stretched around him as he sinks in.

“Fuck, Angel. You’re like a fucking vice, so good for me.” He loves the moments like this where you’re all fucked out. Your semi-lifeless body underneath him is just for his pleasure at this point.

What neither of you expected was for your breathing to pick up in a manner that could only mean one thing. You could feel the knot inside you tightening again. Before you even try and ask, you’re commanded.

“Come for me, Angel.” He’s wrapping an arm around your neck and the other around your upper torso as you let go. 

You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing and your asshole gripping his dick so much so that he has to pause in fucking you.

But, he doesn’t mind it for long as you feel him engorged and pulsing inside you within seconds. He rests his head against yours for a beat while he comes down. As he begins to soften, you can feel him slip out of you followed by some of his spend. 

He lays a kiss on your shoulder before unwrapping himself from around you. He trails kisses down your back, stopping just before your plump rear. He uses both hands to open your ass and watch as his jizz drips down your ass and pussy lips.

He releases you from the cuffs, rubbing the space where they sat upon your skin. He retrieves a wet washcloth from the en suite bathroom and wipes you down before laying in bed next to you and pulling you close.

He smiles down at you as you tangle your fingers in his chest hair.

“All you wanted was attention, am I right?” He asks, his hand tracing patterns on one hip.

“Yes, but–”

“But, you thought you could interrupt me and not be punished for it.”

You hide your face in his shoulder and try and end the conversation. He grabs you by the chin and makes you look at him.

“Sounds like this won’t be the last time that you interrupt me for attention. Do I even get a ‘sorry’ for the time you took me away from my work?”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” 

When August deems your apology to be sincere, he places a chaste kiss on your lips. When you furrow your brows and whine, he rolls his eyes before leaning back in to claim your mouth. Not wanting to rile you up again, he lets go of your chin and lays back down.

“Ya know, I spoil you, Angel.” He winks at you as you nod exuberantly.

“I know, Sir. And thank you.”

“Now, where was this polite girl an hour ago?” He raises an eyebrow and shoots a look at you.

“Busy being ignored, Sir.”

He opens his mouth for a retort, but he doesn’t have one. 

“Valid point,” He laughs inwardly, one arm going behind his head, “Can you forgive me, Angel?”

Leaning up on one arm and donning a serious face, you answer him, “I think I can be persuaded to forgive you.”

“That serious, huh?”

You nod gravely, “I think it might cost you, Sir.”

“Ah, and what might that be?”

“A weekend away. Just you and me, please?” Your eyes couldn’t get any more adorable than they were at that point.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “I think I can arrange that.”

“Thank you, August,” You say, kissing his cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He rubs soothing circles on your hip until your breathing even out and you both take a much-deserved nap.

A/N: I got the title from the Kim Petras song, Treat Me Like A Slut. That song never fails to make me think of August and I had to write out my thots.

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[rieamena]

“ UBI AMOR, IBI DOLOR ”

nanami kento .

contains: fluff if you're a real lover, angst if you're normal

word count: 1.6k

riea's comments: yk what's so funny guys, that really takuma work i've been talking about for the past few months or so, wypamn, yeah that one, its scrapped lmaooo lets all laugh. oh, that's not funny? oh, okay. anyways, here's something i wrote for it a while back, i hope you like it and THIS is my comeback work okay? NOT my clover. also, special shoutout to the loves of my lives, @mayyhaps and @chericos. i heart yall

you climbed into your car with a shaky exhale, hands gripping the steering wheel as if it might ground you. the engine roared to life under your touch, and you tapped in satoru’s location on the gps with more force than necessary. the route lit up in bright blue, the estimated time mocking you like it somehow knew this night was going to be an ordeal

seriously—what the hell had gotten into kento? of all the people he could’ve called, invited out, confided in… it had to be satoru? and then on top of that, he drank himself nearly unconscious? kento, who once got drunk enough to reenact one of the scenes from his series in shakespearean english, apparently decided tonight was the night to spiral. and with him of all people

the tires hummed as you sped through dimly lit city streets, traffic lights smearing into streaks of red and green through your windshield. the night air hung heavy, pressing in through the crack in your window as you took sharp turns, your mind racing faster than your car. your jaw clenched with every block. if this was some elaborate setup for satoru to make you watch a 40-minute powerpoint-slash-conspiracy video titled " nanami kento is NOT the man you think he is", you were going to walk on the road and pray a car hits you

your phone pinged with a message just as you pulled into the curb:

satoru (sent 2 mins ago):

we're at bar ten. he's been talking about u for like 30 minutes straight and it's getting EMBARRASSING. pls hurry before he recites poetry

satoru (sent just now):

update: he just called your laugh "unfairly pretty" and now he's talking to a bottle of gin

you turned off the engine, sighing again

bar ten had that kind of music that never committed to a real genre. the bass was soft, almost pretending it wasn't there, and the conversations floated over it like bubbles waiting to pop. you scanned the room and spotted them quickly—suguru sitting in a booth with satoru clinging onto him comfortably, hands running through the others hair. kento was slouched across from them with his head tipped back, glasses discarded on the table before him and eyes fixed on the ceiling like it held the correct answer to every bad decision he'd ever made

you approached slowly. suguru caught sight of you first, raising a brow and gesturing toward the table like, please deal with this

"kento?" you called softly, sliding into the seat next to him. it took a few shakes of his shoulder for him to realize someone else was there—you were there. you've only seen him get this drunk once before: a random night a few years ago. somehow the idea of a drinking competition filled the air and every bottle known to man was scattered across kento's kitchen island. little did he know, you had switched out your alcoholic beverages for water, but he was too dazed to realize. so while he drank and drank, you watched on

big, strong arms (though it seemed a considerable amount of their strength was gone) enveloped your frame, "my wife!"

it was a nickname he hadn't used since you were kids. "i want to be your husband when we're older! and you will be my wife! if you want to, of course…" a five-year-old kento said to you bashfully on a spring day at the park, weeds that he thought were flowers clenched in his outstretched fist. the name kept up for a couple of years but you never knew the reason why he stopped

"my wife is here! oh, how i've missed you." his speech was slurred, a result of downing a few bottles of whiskey, rum, and gin—it's a miracle that he's still conscious. his grip got even tighter on you as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, "ken?... ken? let's go home." feeling his head shift up and down and his soft breaths on your neck, you gathered all of your strength and lifted off the seat, managing to get him all the way to your car and relaxed in the front seat

by the time you pulled into your building's garage, the city had gone still. not quiet, but softer. as if everything outside had agreed to pause, just for a while. kento didn't ask which floor, didn't ask where to put his shoes, didn't hesitate before settling on the couch like it was his apartment

because it basically was. he'd been coming over since the two of you were kids—after school, after breakups, after shitty college nights where neither of you wanted to talk about what went wrong. this place had always been an anchor. and you never questioned letting him in

you poured a glass of water, eyeing him from the kitchen. "suguru's a menace," he slurred, ridding himself of his blazer and tie with a grunt. "and satoru's louder now than he was at sixteen, how is that possible?"

you cracked a smile, setting the glass on the coffee table. "i ask myself that every time i see him."

kento chuckled—a real one. then it twisted into something sadder. "they're good, though. together, i mean. they make sense. like puzzle pieces. even the jagged parts."

you sat beside him, not too close, but close enough to provide comfort—provide something. he seemed to be sobering up a little bit—after all, alcohol never stayed in his system for long. his eyes shut closed, like he was dissociating but he could feel everything: the cool air from the slightly open window, the fabric of his pants and collared shirt uncomfortably brushing against his skin like it wasn't supposed to do that, the flurry of words dedicated to you that might be impossible to string together even if given the chance, words that were accumulated over years of watching, waiting.

"i loved you before i even knew what that meant," he whispered. "i used to count how many times you said my name in a day. like an idiot."

"you remember that one summer," he continued, "when your ac broke and we just laid on the floor with popsicles all day? you were wearing that stupid tank top with the cartoon frogs."

you smiled, aching. "i remember."

"i couldn't even look at you without getting lightheaded."

he paused, "still can't."

he finally opened his eyes. they were glassy but clear enough to look right at you. right through you.

"i tried to date other people. i tried to un-feel it. but it's you. it's always been you."

you reached out, brushed your fingers against his hand. he caught them. he always did.

"i'm drunk," he said, voice cracking, "and this is unfair to you. but if i don't say it now, i never will."

the room fell silent for a while, heavy with the words spoken and those that didn't need to be. you'd thought kento had dozed off, the exhaustion and alcohol mixing,

but then softly—so softly it could've been mistaken for a sigh—he said:

"you looked too good in white."

you glanced down. his head was on your shoulder, but his eyes were open now, staring at nothing. he swallowed thickly, voice lower. "i told myself i could handle it. that it was just a shoot. just a fake wedding. but then you kissed me in that last shot—like it meant something—and i… i lost."

that shoot was for suguru's moonlight wine collection. you and kento were styled in wedding attire, with matching rings, a high-end ballroom, and a script that called for authentic intimacy. you didn't have to dig far, and it seems… neither did he.

kento pulled away slightly to sit up, rubbing his face. someone unfamiliar with him wouldn't have noticed, but you're his best friend, the one he loves. of course you noticed the slight change in his mannerisms, how he trembled, and how his khakis turned color when he stared downwards. and all it took was a comforting rub on his back to break the dam that was kento's bottled up emotions. he choked on his sobs—fighting everything possible to keep it together, to not completely break down.

"i've been in love with you for most of my life," he said hoarsely, tears streaming down his face but he never made an attempt to wipe them away. like it was his sin, his punishment, something he deserved for keeping it in for this long. "and then i had to stand under that damn arbor, with cameras on us, and look at you like you were mine… when you never were."

the memory flashed—your hand in his, his thumb tracing your knuckles between posing directions like it was muscle memory. the way his eyes never left you, even after the photographer called for a break. kento exhaled. "and i know you've got… everything. people who adore you. a world that spins with you at its center. but for one second that day, i let myself pretend."

"and then," he continued, almost laughing now, "the articles dropped. 'the most believable love story of the season,' they said. 'if you told us they were secretly together, we'd believe it.' and i thought, god, if only they knew how much i wished it were true."

kento has never experienced a first love or a first love. all he knows is a first love, and he's lost her.

for i am a fool, bound by the shackles of unrequited love.

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[jj-one]

you asked for hard thoughts so i felt the need to pull through 😌😌

ik this is probably a popular thing, but jisung in literally any public/semi public setting. the initial hesitation before the horniness wins out?? feral.

pulling him into a bathroom without any warning? pushing him into a camera booth at the mall and planting yourself on his lap? letting your hand creep far to high on his thigh when no one is looking? yes. yes please.

ANYWAYS THATS MY THOUGHTS OK THANK YOU BYEEEEE 🫶🫶

one thing about me is i love public sex specifically bc of the elements of it being risky and making sure not to get caught so ily for this 🤭 anyways let’s goooo

jisung’s most definitely not the strongest soldier when it comes to being able to resist you— especially when you’re the one continuously provoking him. he notices everything. from your small touches here and there to the side glances you keep making every so often, it pushes him to a point of no return. it makes his head spin. and all he wants is to bury his cock so deep in you until neither of you can think a single thought anymore.

you knew exactly what you’re doing, too. the way you giggle at nothing, fingers trailing along his arm like you’re testing just how far you can go. the way you press a little closer every time you two walk past a store window, pretending to glance at something inside, but it’s him you’re watching in the reflection. his jaw tightening. eyes narrowing. the growing tension in his frame each time your hand almost brushes his belt.

so, really, it should be no surprise when he yanks you into the photo booth at the far end of the mall, drawing the curtain closed with shaky fingers, the low hum of the screen flickering to life just as you land in his lap. the confined space is barely wide enough to hold you both, and yet, you manage to straddle him with ease, your knees pressing into the bench, thighs caging him in like you planned this.

“you’re unbelievable,” he mutters, breath warm against your neck, voice caught between disbelief and pure hunger. his hands already gripping your sides, holding you down against him like you might float away otherwise. you only smile, that wicked little curve of your lips that makes his cock twitch in his jeans, and let your hand creep far too high on his thigh. knuckles brushing the outline of his hardening length, slow enough to make him shiver.

“and yet you’re doing nothing to stop me.”

jisung hisses between his teeth, head falling back briefly against the booth wall as you palm him fully. one arm fastened around your waist while the other fumbles to tap “start” on the booth screen, pretending you’re just two sweethearts taking goofy photos. four flashes. that’s all you get. four timed photos to act like you’re normal, like you’re not pressed against his bulge, grinding slow and heavy, mouthing at his neck like it’s a private room instead of a public setup tucked behind the food court.

but his hips buck up the moment your grip tightens, and suddenly you’re rolling your hips in his lap like you’ve forgotten you’re still technically out in public.

“you keep that up,” he growls low, lips dragging across your jaw, feeling hotter as his tongue flicks the shell of your ear, “and m’gonna make you sit here dripping while we walk out of this damn mall.”

you only hum in response, leaning in like you want that. like you want to push him to the edge, right here where anyone could walk past and pull that curtain aside. you kiss him deep and slow, not sweet— completely feral. tongue sliding into his mouth, moaning low as your body rocks harder into his.

he groans into the kiss, fingers digging into your ass now, shifting you just right so your clothed core presses straight into his zipper. “f-fuck, baby,” he gasps, voice barely holding steady. “you’re gonna make me ruin these jeans.”

you tilt your head innocently, lips brushing his cheek now, and whisper like the little minx you are, “so don’t wait.”

and when the third photo snaps, you’re both already too far gone— half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, your hips grinding with intention now. anyone walking by would think it’s just a couple being a little too handsy.

but inside that curtain, jisung’s losing it. and you? you’ve never looked more satisfied than when he’s unraveling underneath you.

[curated-hdg]

Let's Check In On Sheepwave!

One could quite accurately accuse me of being a Sheepwave "fan". In fact, one could quite reasonably claim that Sheepwave has a hand in most of the best things coming out lately. I've spoken at length in the past about Good Sensory, On Domestication of Masters, and From Pawn to Princess; all three of those continue to be incredible and very much worth your time. But, because that apparently wasn't enough, we've got more.

To wit:

The Princess and The Predator by sheepwave, Slylittleprincess

Released: May 2025; Ongoing; part of the HDG Princessification Writing Jam

18k words; 5 chapters released

Significant Tags: AU, Vampirism, Forced Age Regression

Lynn Walsh is a thermal management engineer fighting for her life after her ship crashed on an icy forest planet. Tamai Armetisia, Ninth Bloom is a huntress affini looking to do a rescue mission. When Lynn’s ship is finally found, the two are fated to meet, and maybe they're exactly what the other needs most.

The premise here is pretty simple: what if Tamai Armetisia of Cat and Mouse was the affini who found Lynn Walsh? The result is a dark mirror of From Pawn to Princess. Slylittleprincess and Sheepwave working together isn't just for powerful, traumatic, deadass affini, it's also for blood-drinking "Mommies" who really wants to molest their little girls.

Y'all... Tamai is fucked up. It's great. There's so much blood! Mind the tags on this one, it's a spicy meatball. However, having just read the fifth chapter, I can confirm that it's also incredibly funny. Like, these two are having fun with this, and it really shows. If you liked Cat and Mouse, you'll love this.

And speaking of fucked up...

Hazing at the Floret Party by4WheelSword, sheepwave, and Slylittleprincess

Released: May 2025

26k words; 7 chapters; ongoing

Noteworthy tags: sorority/frat house sex basement

Abby is a nineteen year old independent college student surrounded by floret friends. her focus on her studies has put her in the target of a wellness check. she doesn't want to risk being domesticated, so she decides to go to a floret party. All she has to do is make an appearance, stay sober, and avoid pushy affini, and she can go back to studying for her finals. what's the worst that could happen?

Hey. You. You know that feeling? That feeling when your friend drags you to a party you didn't really want to go to? And someone hands you a drink, and you realize it tastes kinda funny, and then things start to get completely fucking out of hand?

Y'wanna kink off that feeling in a dark comedy where nothing truly awful can actually happen (well, nothing worse than getting taken as a pet by a benevolent mind control alien, anyways)?

NOW HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT PISS?!

I can say from interaction with their work that 4WheelSword, Slylittleprincess, and yes, Sheepwave, are all extremely normal about both piss (noun) and piss (verb). I would like to briefly quote from chapter 4:

“I know how much you like the catheter, my love. Treat yourself.”

And I swear to god, this is the authors speaking directly to each other. Now, I've long ago given up any pretense of pretending I don't have at least a piss (verb) kink. And if you haven't... this one might get to you. I will also add that there's a running gag in every chapter and with every single chapter it gets funnier and funnier. You'll see what I mean.

SPEAKING OF OUTPUT...

Good Sensory (Omegaverse) by sheepwave

For Slylittleprincess.

Released: June 2025

81k words (???!?), 18 chapters (!?!?!)

Notable Tags: Not HDG, Omegaverse

An autistic kinky romance story about learning to unmask and be loved as the person you actually are, rather than the one you think you're supposed to be. Sally Fable is a 22 year old transgender omega who doesn't click with most people. she is easily overwhelmed. bad textures, bad sensations, all of it. she also has a lot of experience being made fun of for how passionate she can get. Marsha Lywick is an alpha in her late forties who wasn't born as one, who wants to break Sally's masking habits and turn her into the cutest little bonded companion imaginable.

You've read Good Sensory, right? The kinky, fun romance story? With an affini who stalks the main character, drugs her nonconsensually, and otherwise acts like a dangerous predator, but it's genuinely fluffy and nice? Like, in chapter 2 of Good Sensory, Marsha figures out what's good sensory for Sally, then remodels her home and her own body to match it, and that's kinda crazy but also kinda neat and believable for an affini?

I want you to imagine for a moment what it might look like for this story to be transposed into the real world. Where Marsha is not an affini bound by benevolence, but a human. Where her power is enabled not by the compact, but by other means. What might that look like? What might Poppy Versiona look like?

The answer is. Um.

Woaw.

Let me tell you, without the context of HDG and the compact, the scenes where Marsha drugs Sally sure do pick up some new connotations!

So one major difference is that they're all humans. Another change is that they fuck. Like, rather a lot. It's a rather central point at this moment. This story is disgustingly filthy, pulls no punches, and somehow takes every horrifying yandere thing about the original Good Sensory and cranks it up to 11. I will confess, I am only a third of the way through it, as I've been savoring it to read to a partner, but the things it's setting up, the things it's doing... This story is goddamn incredible.

(It has been presented to me that the latest hot gossip on the street is that Sheepwave and Slylittleprincess might be more than just coauthors. I take no position on these allegations, beyond "Okay, yay!" It would certainly explain this output!)

[jkags-doodles]

In which I am predictable

Fic concept where Puck has had respiratory issues ever since Meghan met them that are in the category of ~eh, mostly under control, and she’s learned not to question, up until circa the Iron Bug plotline/her and Puck exploring the possibility of romance, at which point their random coughing fits merge into coughing up blood. Which. Concerning. But Puck insists it’s fine. And when she brings it up to nurse Stacy she looks long suffering and pitying but not like it’s unusual, just talks about upping Puck’s treatment.

Cut to book 3 at Leanansidhe’s safehouse, Meghan and Ash are fully in their romance era, Puck is helping train Meghan. They’re at a weird impasse where Meghan isn’t mad at Robbie anymore but hasn’t really forgiven them or addressed the issue. Coughing fits are worsening, Meghan really wishes Puck would address them, and

Wait are those flowers.

(They’re forget-me-nots, specifically.)

Oh my god you have Hanahaki, Meghan says.

Literally shut the fuck up, Puck says.

Oh my god, your love for me is killing you isn’t it, Meghan says.

I will pay you 20 American dollars to pretend you didn’t see this, Puck says.

I’m a terrible person for not being able to requite your feelings, Meghan says, spiraling.

It’s not for you, don’t worry about it, Puck says.

Wait what? Meghan says, because this love triangle has been consuming nearly every thought in her brain and the idea of Robbie having an active social life outside of her is admittedly kinda weird, which she’s going to unpack later.

Puck proceeds not to tell her who they love and why it’s killing them, just that it’s been like this for a while and sometimes gets better/sometimes gets worse, PLEASE don’t ask pressing questions, this is totally normal for them and they’re used to it and it’s not going to stop them from being helpful. So it’s fine.

Meghan tells Ash, because she’s gotta. Ash is trying to timeline it out because oh god his best friend is dying if Puck dies from this then he won’t get to avenge Ariella, so he has to figure out who it’s for and how to solve it like Right Now, Fuck the Iron Kingdom, who is it for and why has it been going on for so long, and why is Puck so unconcerned about it. One thing leads to another, Meghan winds up going well Puck and Leanansidhe seem close, so maybe she’ll know.

Lea I will give you 25 American dollars not to be a snitch, Puck says.

Wow. All three of you are baby idiots, Lea says, who’s been watching her horrible little sibling figure do the equivalent of breathing in weedkiller incense for about 3 centuries and hoping it kills their forget-me-not garden faster than it kills the rest of their body. It’s very clearly for Prince Ash. They developed it within the same year Ash swore his murder oath.

Turns out being in close contact with the person who swore to kill you and that you have a terminal flower disease for is not an ideal position to be in. And Puck’s illness has progressed much more quickly than it had been for the past three centuries with everything that’s gone down. So Stacilia’s treatment has been falling behind.

You all suck, Puck says, bordering on tears and/or hysteric laughter. And it’s not like I like him romantically anyway so it hardly matters anymore, he doesn’t care for friendship when there’s a girl to fall in love with. Let me tend my shitty flower garden in peace.

Which. Rude. But not an entirely inaccurate reading of the situation.

There are no easy ways out of this.

[labyrinthinesyndicatex]

"Yes. And the worst part is acting like you're not doing it while simultaneously cataloging everyone else's moves for future reference."

The server appeared at their table with perfect timing, like they'd been hovering just out of sight waiting for a lull in conversation. "Good evening, have you had a chance to look over the menu? Can I start you with any appetizers or would you like to order your entrees?"

"I think we're ready," Anais said, glancing at Demir. "I'll have the mushroom risotto, and..." She gestured for him to order. After they'd both ordered and the server disappeared with their menus, Anais settled back in her chair. This whole thing was spiraling way past reconnaissance territory. She was supposed to be mining information about Izel, figuring out weak spots she could exploit later. Instead she was sitting here relating to his damage like it matched her own. "Polished," she said, shaking her head. "Trust me, half the time I'm just hoping nobody notices I'm winging it. All that composure you're seeing? Pure survival instinct wrapped in a decent blazer." The honesty slipped out easier than it should have. She wasn't supposed to be giving him real pieces of herself to work with.

His comment about skipping straight to emotional dessert made something warm settle in her chest that had nothing to do with strategy. This was dangerous territory - the kind where she started forgetting why she'd called him in the first place. The Solis family had destroyed her father without a second thought, but here was their princess's ex making vulnerability sound like humor instead of weakness. "You know what's really twisted?" she continued, scanning the tiramisu description without actually reading it. "We spend all this energy pretending to be normal, and then when someone calls us on it, we're shocked they want to stick around anyway." She looked up at him, caught off guard by how easily he'd shifted from flirting to something real. "And honestly? This not being pretend thing works for me too. Even if we're both probably more damaged than we're letting on." The admission hung between them for a second before she forced herself back to safer ground. "As for my dating profile disasters, I'm thinking 'Enjoys spreadsheets, has daddy issues, may audit your personal finances for fun.' Real winner, right?" She grinned, trying to keep it light even though talking about her father always made her chest tight. "What about you? 'Recovering charmer seeks someone who won't run when emotions get complicated'?"

Demir’s laugh came low and warm, the kind that slipped out without permission, and it lingered like he didn’t want to rein it back in. "God, I really have done that too many times. Pretending I know which glass is mine while quietly tracking the cutlery hierarchy like it’s an Olympic event.” He leaned his elbow on the table, chin tilted her way, eyes holding just enough mischief to keep it flirty—but the kind that ran deeper than surface charm. “And you’re telling me that behind all that spreadsheet elegance, you were also mapping escape routes and mirror-checking your posture like the rest of us? I feel betrayed. I thought you were one of the polished ones.” His smile softened, just slightly. “Funny, isn’t it? All the ways we twist ourselves into what we think people expect, and half the time they’re just doing the same thing.”

He watched her, the edges of his smirk tugging up with something far too real for a fake date. “And hey, if you’re spoiling me with light childhood trauma and perfectly delivered audit humour, I might have to skip straight to dessert. Emotionally, I mean. Though—” his eyes flicked to the menu, then back to her, “—if you think I’m waiting till date three to hear your dramatic reading of ‘systematic irregularities,’ you clearly underestimate how easily bribed I am by good risotto and better company.” There was a pause. Not heavy, but honest. “You know,” he said, quieter now, “this was supposed to be a casual date. Polite laughs, harmless banter, maybe a story or two that doesn’t leave bruises.” He toyed with the edge of his napkin again, the same idle thumb movement she’d noticed earlier. “But here we are, trading damage and dessert plans like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And I don’t know what that says about us yet, Anais... but I’m not in a rush to define it.” He looked at her then—not just amused, not just curious, but seeing her. “Whatever this is, it’s not pretend. Not for me, anyway.” And then, as if to break the weight of that truth gently, he added with a wink, “Now go on, tell me more about what else would be on your dating profile, even though I already admitted I'll swipe right. Then you can tell me--what you think my profile would be like and if you'd swipe right or not."

[mylovesstuffs]

ANNOUNCEMENT !

Hi everyone, I have something really personal and important to share. Please take a moment to read all the way.

I'll be answering asks regarding this for the next 6 hours. No, I won’t be bribed. Yes, I know my inbox is about to explode. I accept my fate.

After much careful consideration and in light of recent developments, I’ve made a big decision regarding this blog @mylovesstuffs and my writing. This space has meant the world to me: it has been my creative outlet, my safe haven, and most importantly, a way for me to connect with some of the most supportive and kind-hearted people out there (yes, that’s you).

That being said,, I've decided to focus on other creative projects that require more of my attention.. A while ago, PLEDIS Entertainment reached out to me regarding some of my writing, and after multiple rounds of interviews and discussions, they’ve offered me a freelance opportunity to be part of their internal creative team. Yes, the same PLEDIS that manages SEVENTEEN.

I’ll be joining their behind-the-scenes content team, helping with narrative building, concepts, and other confidential projects related to SEVENTEEN and their future releases. It’s honestly a dream come true, something I never thought would happen when I first started writing here. But it also comes with its own challenges. Unfortunately, due to legal contracts [NDA, etc.] and company policies, I won’t be able to continue running this blog as a fanfic and reaction writer. I’ve been advised to step back from writing unofficial content about SEVENTEEN while working with the company.

I’ll be logging out from the blog to dedicate my energy to new projects that require my full attention. It’s a strange feeling, but I’m confident this is the right move for both my growth, my mental health and career. This isn’t a goodbye forever, but it does mean this blog will be on indefinite hiatus.

I am deeply grateful to every single person who read my works, shared kind words, and stuck with me through my ups and downs with this godforsaken app, but this platform helped me hone my skills and gave me the courage to even dream of this moment.

And yes, I know the timing might seem off, but this is genuinely happening. It’s something I’ve thought long and hard about, and I’m excited [and a little nervous] to share this with you all. But yes, this is really happening.

Thank you for being my community, my little corner of the internet where I felt free to create.

I love you all. Thank you for everything.

— Celeste <3

P.S. Before I log out, I’ll still be posting mingyu's bd oneshot and the collab fic I participated in! Those two will be the only exception—before and after that, there won’t be any other fics from me. Just wanted to make that clear so no one’s confused later.

⌦ 🎢 © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. thank you for being part of this journey—your support has meant the world. until we meet again, stay cozy and keep dreaming ! ◜ᴗ◝

[hansoeii]

I'm very much not normal about loki and mobius right now

[goldenflowers]

A3! Act Addict Actors || one gifset per episode ↳ Episode 04 ❀ A New Challenge

[pumpk-n]

sigh i hate days like today

[afniel]

I am seized with a burning and sudden need to Get Super Weird With It except I'm also going to meet my partner's other side of the family soon and if I happen to Get Even Slightly Weird With It where they can see it, I will probably get to experience being the butt of uncle jokes, so I cannot do that right now.

But the moment nobody is looking I'm going to be so goddamn bizarre on purpose and who's going to stop me? No one. Definitely not me.

(And maybe I'll declare Fuck It We Ball and paint my nails anyway. Who give a shit. Well, unless my partner specifically doesn't want me to do that, in which case I guess I'll take it off again before meeting anybody.)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i could draw anything but i decided to draw this. carlo and rocco in 1932 aka my headache

[p2iimon]

drawing more furry fnaf art. yknow just to keep you posted. i love posting in the tags sorry these ones got away from me

[itsbrucey]

Also idk what au I'm even crafting at this point but they own where the Dads are monsters. And Henry is a Harpy. I have a Harpy hierarchy/species guide I was making for my own use/OCS that helps categorize harpies based on like.....their heritage??

It's 3 tiers and it's Matriarch Harpies, Mother's Blood Harpies, and Mother's Tears Harpies. They're all based on certain depictions of harpies in media/myths, with Matriarch being the least human and Tears being the most human.

My OC Vali is a Matriarch harpy, and they're based on ancient green myths/"classic" harpies which tend to just be large bird months with a human's face and head. Mother's Blood Harpies are more human but still pretty large and birdlike, having human torsos and heads but still majorly Bird. Mother's Tears Harpies are like the modern day Harpy, with wings for arms and feathers/bird feet, but human torsos, legs, and heads, and they tend to be the smallest/most human sized.

Maybe I'll make a diagram someday but it's IRRELEVANT bc it's just A CONCEPT I MADE FOR OC NONSENSE. the point is I'm using is for Henry as a Harpy and I think he'd be a Blood or Tears Harpy because it mimicks his elf heritage. I think he'd be a Tears Harpy while Bearry would be Blood Harpy for the sake of it?

[rawliverandgoronspice]

.