#but it's as good a time as any to be get less self-conscious about my voice

[omotelie]

WHERE’S MY FUKING CAPO

[mrfoox]

Me: I think id want to know someone that's mutually obsessed with me... Like I am with them

Oliver: ok... Well then you can meet people, that's very easy!

Me: uh.... Ok

Oliver: yeah I mean your courses, the people there do have the same diagnosis like you so they might think the same way as you?

Me: mmm.... I dont think... I dont know how I think is normal even among people with my diagnose

Oliver: um, okay. Why?

Me: because of how I think of other people... Or other people I like rather

Oliver: yeah, well that's not... Unusual. I mean you want to be around people you like so you obviously think good about them?

Me: mmm, yeah but I don't think... You'd want to know how I think about others

Oliver: why? Now I want to know

Me: no, I don't think you do...

[hannieehaee]

ENDLESSLY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: despite not having a large audience, jungkook's camboy career prevailed with the hopes that someday he'd make enough money to finally leave his dead-end job. what happens when one of his admirers offers to make that dream come true?

content: camboy!jungkook x trustfundbaby!reader, jungkook is shy, jungkook is a faceless camboy with a very small audience, reader is younger than jk, kind of pathetic!jungkook, reader is rich and very confident, slowburn (kind of), afab reader, smut, camming, masturbation (m receiving), oral (f receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 2126 (teaser); 12.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: june 28th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this took me forever to finish lol i hope its any good at all</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Well, that's it for today guys, thanks for watching."

With an awkward chuckle, Jungkook reached out to his computer screen and shut the laptop closed, groaning just as he stopped being out of earshot.

233 viewers.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Jungkook the hope that maybe someday he'd be able to find pride in the number. Maybe his streams would blow up in views overnight one of these days – the hope prevailed. It had been a month since he hit the 200's, now garnering an average of 250 viewers per stream.

It was quite embarrassing to him sometimes. There were instances in which he'd finish a stream and regain full consciousness of his actions, becoming embarrassed at the knowledge of strangers watching him cum — of them hearing his voice and his whimpers as he played it up for their entertainment — and of him not even being able to make a living out of it.

He had to stay creative, sometimes finding scripts online that he'd read out to his viewers while he jerked off, playing the role of a subby coworker or a dominant childhood friend in order to keep his audience engaged (and maybe incite one or two to send money his way). Other times, he'd simply ramble about his life (but never get too specific) whilst he let himself lose control on camera.

Jungkook never once showed his face, only ever giving people glimpses at the tattoos decorating his arm and of his cock as it stood against his abs. The most he'd ever shown had been a small view of his lips before the camera's frame cut off.

He liked it this way.

In reality, he was too shy to ever be outspoken about doing such a thing, which was why no one in his life knew about it. He didn't judge anyone who enjoyed camming, but he was simply too self-conscious to do such a thing. Despite being aware of how handsome people thought him to be, he had never been too forward when it came to sex, much less this.

This had all started a little over a year ago, when he'd come across a few cammers on Twitter late into the night. Going on their accounts out of sheer curiosity, he realized that they each had a large following, not only on Twitter, but also on camming websites. Some of them even had their Patreons and PayPal accounts linked to their accounts, amassing even more revenue from these third party websites on top of their income from the camming sites. This was what mainly caught his attention.

Part of him felt bad about being on it solely for the money, but he was beyond desperate. And so he held the false hope that he'd somehow have the same luck as them and create an income out of this.

As someone who had only recently graduated university, having found no luck in his field, Jungkook had to resort to applying to jobs he felt were below his level of expertise. Having no connections in his field and no call-backs from employers, he found himself working a part time at a gas station accompanied by a part time at a grocery store. Both jobs were miserable to him.

The jobs themselves were not horrible, but attempting to manage both schedules and both sets of responsibilities was slowly weighing down on him. His coworkers were also not the best to be around. And did he mention the commute to each establishment? That part ate up at his days drastically, leaving him with almost no time for rest.

Jungkook knew that he should've given up on camming a long time ago. Hell, he'd made a grand total of $876 dollars in the past year he'd been at it. That would be a laughable amount to all the cammers that had inspired him into taking such a profession. But he didn't have any other prospects. Even as he worked his two jobs and cammed, he continued to search for more fulfilling (and better paying) employment, but was unable to ever even get any callbacks.

And so now he found himself doing about three streams per week, getting more and more discouraged each time he'd end a stream with the same low number of viewers.

With yet another sigh, Jungkook got up to go clean himself up, lethargic in his movements due to both the physical and mental exhaustion of having worked all day, only to come back home for a lowly appreciated stream.

Coming back from a much needed hot shower, he did his usual skin care before heading back to bed, where he had been recording just now. For a moment he pondered whether he should go to sleep now in order to get ready for work early next morning or to indulge in watching some anime as a reward for the tiring day.

Going for the latter, he opened his computer back up, sighing again when he remembered he hadn't closed the tab in which he'd been camming.

But before he could actually tap out of it, something caught his attention, making his eyes widen more than he thought possible.

burner98 donated $1,000

This must've been some sort of mistake. Right? Maybe they mistyped? No one in their right mind would donate such an amount to a faceless cammer ranking up to less than a thousand weekly views.

All his prior donations had been in the lower numbers, usually only ever amounting up to $20. Never had he ever gotten someone to donate anything in the triple digits, much less going into the quadruples.

The name of the donor also caught his attention. Babystarcandy. It was a frequent watcher who had been in attendance to every single stream of his starting a few months back — which was when they'd first made an appearance in his audience.

He had never noticed this viewer in particular, though they were one of the only people to ever grant him donations. They'd usually donate whilst he was off stream, which he found slightly strange but never questioned. Checking through his donation history, he saw this name listed three times prior, with donations of $5, $15 and $20 respectively. They'd happened throughout the months, with no pattern in particular. It made no sense for them to donate such a high amount to Jungkook out of nowhere, especially not while he wasn't actively on stream.

With a heavy heart and half a mind to simply keep the money, he decided to message the donor to inform them of their mistake and follow through with a refund.

So much for his anime binge before bed.

babystarcandy - Hey, burner98. Thank you so much for the kind donation, but I think you made a mistake. I'll refund you.

He decided to go with something kind of formal. After all, he'd never spoken to this person before.

Surprisingly, the response came within minutes. Being three in the morning, he assumed you'd wait til the following day to reply, but maybe you were in a different time zone.

burner98 - omg hiii !! did i make a mistake ?? im sorry !! i meant to send 1k. did it not go through correctly ?

Had that not been an accident? One thousand dollars?

This made no sense. Why would you send him such a large amount out of nowhere? That was more than he'd made in the entire past year. Hell, that was half his rent.

Jungkook had no idea how to respond to you.

As much as he wanted to accept it, it felt like robbing you of a fortune.

babystarcandy - Gosh, hi! No, the thousand came through, it's just ... Are you sure this is correct? This is a lot of money ... I'd feel terrible taking so much from you

Once again, you responded almost immediately.

burner98 - haha ur so cute

burner98 donated $2,000

burner98 - is that better ? ;)

Holy fucking shit.

Jungkook's hands were shaking at this point. His eyes couldn't believe what was right in front of him.

Quickly, he took out his phone to check his baking app, checking to see if the deposits were legitimate. Upon opening it, he found that his balance had in fact gone up $3,000. This was far more money than he'd ever had in his bank account.

He stared blankly at it for a few moments without so much as breathing. A reminder to snap out of his trance arrived in the form of another chime coming from his computer — a new message from you.

burner98 - did i scare u off :((

burner98 - just wanna help u out :(((

Immediately, he rushed to respond, not even thinking before typing anymore.

babystarcandy - no! not at all! this is just so much money. i dont want you getting yourself into financial trouble for me

Within seconds, you responded.

burner98 - haha it's okay i can afford it dont worry <3

He furrowed his brows worriedly, typing up yet another message.

babystarcandy - i really dont mean to sound ungrateful, but why ? it's so much money ... this is life-altering type of money for me (as made up as that may sound) my content isn't even that good. why are you giving me this?

He knew he was shooting himself in the foot by questioning it so much and not simply accepting it, but he'd learned through his life that good things don't just come out of nowhere. He needed more details. At least for his peace of mind.

burner98 - i adoooore ur content. u've helped me so much u have noooo idea !!! u deserve it !! u mentioned in ur live a week ago u were struggling with money, so ofc id wanna help u out pretty <3

Fuck. You actually liked his content? His content was worth $3,000 to you?

Jungkook was almost sure he had accidentally fallen asleep before he even opened his computer. Pinching himself a few times proved for this to be actually real.

babystarcandy - thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me.

babystarcandy - there has to be some way i can repay you.

Was he propositioning himself to you?

Not even Jungkook was sure. He had no idea what he was offering to you, but it was the middle of the night and he was extremely grateful. He couldn't help himself as he typed up that message and sent it.

burner98 - oh ? what would u suggest ?

Oh, fuck. You were agreeing. Okay ... Now what? Jungkook had nothing to offer. He was an amateur cammer with nothing to his name. What could some random person on the internet with tons of disposable income possibly want from him?

babystarcandy - maybe i could give you a call to thank you ? you know, one on one ?

He mentally kicked himself as soon as he sent that message.

What the hell was he thinking, offering up a personal call to some random person online? This could be a friendless creep for all he knew. He had no identifying information about you, other than knowing you apparently had a vast disposable income. I mean, hell, your account name was burner98, you clearly did not want to leave any traceable information about you.

Before he could backtrack (not that he would actually have the balls to), the three dots on your side of the conversation popped up, followed by another message from you.

burner98 - really ??? :00 that'd be amazing omg ... are you free tomorrow ? i'll make it worth your while <3

Staring at the $3,000 sitting cozy on his bank account, he didn't even let himself think before agreeing, sending a quick message in confirmation. He had work tomorrow, but maybe calling off would be worth it considering you were hinting at even more money.

Jungkook felt dirty for some reason, despite knowing what camming truly entailed. However, he also knew that there was nothing morally wrong with what he was doing, so he pushed that shyness to the back of his mind and began drafting up some sort of goodbye message that encapsulated your plans to call tomorrow and a few more thank you's for your donations.

burner98 donated $5,000

burner98 - just a little thank u for ur kindness ;) see u tomorrow baby ~

Jungkook had to swallow the gasp that was about to leave his body. Five thousand dollars??

You'd managed to drop eight thousand dollars on him within an hour's time. This was four months of his rent. Jungkook had never had this much money lying in his bank account. Its mere presence was making him nervous.

Not only that, but the thought of talking to someone who had this much money to give without a second thought scared him shitless.

There was no way he'd sleep tonight.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 1

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Magical Orthodontry...

(I should probably mention that my thoughts about plastic surgery/any kind of cosmetic enhancement are pretty much that as long as the person who has it done likes the result, it does not matter if anybody else thinks they needed it.

It’s their body, their choice and if they think they look prettier with a new nose/straighter teeth/fuller lips, good for them.

For myself, I love what braces did for my teeth and what one of those heatless curler things currently does for my hair lol)

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

It was bad. 

Eira shouldn’t have expected any differently. 

Maybe it had been the promise of mail-order catalogues that had made her think that maybe this time she wasn’t going to want to die halfway through her biannual week of torture…

But there was nothing the shadows could do, short of giving her pain potions that rendered her unconscious and plying her with soup. 

She let them. 

She was too weak to protest, in too much pain…feeling like a baby bird that needed them to slowly spoon broth in her mouth so that she only needed to swallow. 

But at least they were there. They didn’t leave her alone. Regardless of when she woke up…at what time of day or night…they were there. 

Ready with pain potions and armed with soup, and when she just needed something to get her mind off the pain, they told her stories. 

Little fables of Illyria and Prythian…children’s stories. 

Maybe one day she could tell the same stories to Nyx. 

It took 4 days… halfway through that week, when there was a knock at her door. 

Elain, the shadows whispered into her ear and she held back a groan. 

She didn’t want to deal with her sister. 

“Come in!” she called nonetheless and only then realised that she still had the key in the lock. The shadows swarmed out to turn it and then disappeared, scurrying underneath her desk. 

She forced herself to sit up, wondering how much of a mess she looked…probably like death warmed over twice, but to be completely honest…she wasn’t pretty on a good day, so what did it matter? 

Becoming Fae had somehow perfected the faces of her sisters. They still looked like themselves, but the cauldron had seemingly made them much more symmetrical, their limbs longer, their ears pointed…and for Elain, the cauldron…it had turned her from beautiful into otherworldly gorgeousness. 

For Eira…it had made her ears pointy. 

No, wait that wasn’t true…Her hair was seemingly even more unmanageable than it ever had been as a human…and her teeth…the less was said about that was better. 

She had already been self-conscious about them as a human. As a fae, surrounded by ridiculously attractive people every day, it was…something else entirely. 

“Good Morning,” Eira said quietly. Elain stared at her, surprise etched on her face. 

“Have you really spent the few days moping in your bed?” she asked, judgment clear in her voice. Eira wanted to bristle. Hadn’t Elain done the exact same thing when she had first been made? And Elain hadn’t had the excuse of a cycle for it. 

“Yes, Elain,” she said back quietly. “It’s….It’s that time of the year,” she mumbled, looking at everything but her sister. If Elain couldn’t even smell the thick cloying scent of blood that was clinging to Eira, she couldn’t help her. 

Elain just harrumphed.  “Look, I do realise that I may have been needlessly harsh,” she said, crossing her arms. Somehow managing to sound gracious even now.“But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere.” 

Eira blinked. Twice. 

Somebody put her heart into a vice and crushed it. 

Of all the things she had expected Elain to say…this wasn’t it. 

“Azriel is completely disinterested,” Elain continued. “And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.” 

“What does it matter to you?” Eira finally managed to bring out, her voice thankfully not shaking…And still….she sounded…weak. That’s what she sounded like. 

“I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that,” Elain said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.”

Eira flinched at Elain’s words. She couldn’t help it. 

Even when she knew…she knew her sister was right. She knew that…

“You should just stop your pathetic attempts of flirting with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable,” Elain continued with a roll of her eyes. 

Pathetic attempts of flirting? What did Elain even mean? Her nervous ramblings? Her stolen glances? The way her heart skipped a beat when she got to see him? 

She had never asked him out…on a date or anything else…she had never even mentioned courting in his near vicinity. She had done nothing, said nothing to Azriel that made her feelings obvious to him. 

It was all just…

“There are plenty of fish in the sea…” Elain said with a sigh. “You’ll find somebody else one day,” Elain told her, sounding some mixture between pitying and bored, as she turned to go. “Do you want me to ask Feyre to send Madja?”

“No, thank you. I have pain potions,”  Eira whispered, and Elain turned on her heel, marching back out of her room. 

Eira listened to her sister leave…she buried her face in her pillows.  

“Would you lock the door, please?” She whispered. 

Nobody else. Just her.

Why shouldn’t Elain once again stab her in the same wound…why not?  Why…

And then…somehow it was like somebody flipped a switch. 

She turned angry. Angry at Elain, at her twin sister. Who hid behind this veil of sisterly worry and only used it to hurt Eira?

She was so…she was so…She was so angry. 

She never was angry.  But right now it was swelling beneath her skin and she wanted…she wanted… Not revenge. Not really. 

She made Azriel uncomfortable with what? With nervous ramblings and stolen glances? 

Fine. She would stop that. She would stop all of that. 

She wouldn’t even talk to him again, so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. She would ignore him. She would be icily polite and that was that. 

And she would find herself a husband and have all the babies she wanted and that would be that. She would find herself…somebody else. Somebody who wanted her.  Somebody for whom she wasn’t annoying…who she didn’t make uncomfortable.

Somebody for herself. 

Something for herself. 

She would fill her room with stupid trinkets she bought herself because nobody else would do it for her. She would buy pretty dresses that tried to mask that she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters. She would do all of that. 

And what her sisters thought about any of that…well, she didn’t fucking care. Not anymore. 

She wasn’t the only one angry. The shadows were hissing, spitting, swirling menacingly, nearly filling the whole room…and she wasn’t scared. That didn’t even cross her mind.

How dares she? The shadows hissed. She owed you an apology, not…not this.

Maybe for the first time in her life, Eira Archeron wanted to be utterly and completely selfish. 

Nobody was going to put her first. Not if she didn’t do it herself. 

“I’ll be buying myself something horribly expensive,” she finally said, her voice shaking. 

Do it, the shadows said, amusement bleeding into their voice, still angrily swirling, coming to wrap around her wrists. Buy whatever you want.

They dropped a catalogue next to her hands, and Eira reached out to take it with shaky hands. 

Whatever she wanted. 

The problem was only, she had no idea what she wanted. 

Maybe a new dress? Maybe some jewellery…like a necklace? Or a bracelet? 

A ring?

Like the rings her sisters had? Given to them by their mates, who loved them? 

Feyre’s Sapphire? The Ruby that encircled Nesta’s finger since her mating ceremony? 

Or maybe Elain’s ring…gold and diamond, looking like the rays of the sun, so fitting for the future wife of the heir to the Day Court. 

No. No jewellery. 

These godforsaken pearl earrings had been enough. 

Something Eira wanted. Something Eira needed. 

Eira could use a new pair of shoes. She already had brought her old ones to the cobbler thrice. Maybe…that wasn’t a ridiculous request after all…

She opened the catalogue, paging through it until she found the shoe section. She stared at the little pictures accompanying them. Humans hadn’t yet figured out how to do print in full colour, but the drawings on this page were brightly colourful. Clearly not a problem here in Prythian. 

She quickly slipped over the pages that had silk slippers and pretty heels on them. That wasn’t practical to run after Nyx with, right? Then she found a page with practical leather shoes… decisively female, a small heel…they weren’t that dissimilar to human fashion. 

She examined them closer. “Laces or Buckle? What do you think?” she asked the shadows. The ones with shoelaces were cheaper…but if she bought one with the buckles, she could also change them out, buy extra buckles…swap them with a crystal-embellished buckle or silver for gold…

All of that was possible. 

The ones with the buckles! The shadows said quickly. 

“They are pretty, aren’t they?” Eira commented and marked the page by folding down one corner as she turned the page. 

Definitely one contender. 

She couldn’t remember ever having done anything similar before. 

When she had still been human, as a child her mother had reigned over her wardrobe with an iron fist. They had never been allowed to pick out anything. 

And then later…after they had lost their fortune…well, picking out anything involved turning around every clipped copper coin. 

She had never been able to just…leisurely look at things and find the pretty and think about buying them…without even really looking at the price tag attached to them. 

Eira flipped back to the shoes, the tip of her finger tracing the writing…she had always been atrocious at reading. The letter tended to change their position, and it hadn’t changed as a Fae either. and she could never tell that to anybody, because the one time she had, her finger had been violently rapped by a wooden ruler and that had been that. 

If she just took her time…carefully…it worked. Just took her longer. She found the price attached to the shoes, knowing that even without the shadows, she could afford them. 

She had stashed away money in the chest at the foot of her bed after all. Not a lot but…enough for the shoes. 

Eira paged through more of the catalogue…oohing and awwing over dresses, where the shadows tried to talk her into buying herself a ballgown much to her amusement, though in the end, they agreed on a pretty blue-grey dress with billowing sleeves cuffed at her wrist…

Eira would never feel comfortable in the Night Court fashion of cropped tops and pants…she would much rather be covered up completely. But that dress…that looked quite pretty. 

She turned to the next page, and the next after that, trawling her way through skirts and cardigans and shirt waists…

And then Eira found the fabric section, biting her lip. Any time she had gone to a fabric shop in Velaris, it had been to buy fabric for a gift for her sisters. Never for herself. She didn’t need anything. 

That’s pretty, the shadows whispered in her ear, seemingly solidifying to point out a specific cotton print on that page. 

She wondered how they even saw anything. They didn’t have eyes. But then magic seemed to be the answer to nearly everything in Prythian. 

It was pretty. A ditsy little floral print…white ground, green leaves…It was pretty. So was a white cotton gauze with little dots…that was the one that she considered seriously. The price was good…she could use a new dress for her birthday…

She marked that page as well, flipping over to the next…and there it was. 

It was an advertisement that caught her eye, and she was nearly flicking to the next page as she caught the word teeth. 

“Faes can fix teeth?“ she asked weakly, as she read that advertisement, a promise about cosmetic procedures…like full lashes and eyebrows and…perfect teeth. 

Perfect teeth. 

“Could they fix mine?” she asked, desperation bleeding into her voice. 

Her teeth were…well, her greatest insecurity on a good day. They were…fine. It wasn’t painful at least. It was just that her two front teeth were too big for her face…which made her look like…

What’s wrong with your teeth? Do they hurt you? You’ll need a healer for that, the shadows said immediately, worriedly. 

“They are too big. Just the two front teeth. I look like a rabbit,”  she admitted in a whisper. Or a mole rat. Her mother had preferred the latter. 

Everything else could be fixed one way or another…but nothing could be fixed for her teeth. 

When she had been a child she had still hoped that she would grow into them, but that had never happened. 

And not even the cauldron had thought it would be prudent to fix them. Leaving her with them…still standing out starkly. 

They were the reason why she never smiled widely, why she made sure to talk with her lips pulled over them…why she didn’t wear bright lipstick. 

A few dozen things that she didn’t do because of them. 

You do not look like a rabbit, the shadows disagreed with a snort…and then after a moment:  Do they bother you?

They asked that like it was a near foreign thing…like…

“My mother used to…She used to tell me that…” She tried to bring the words over her lips but she choked on them. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t…

Once you feel better, you can go and have them changed to however you want to look, the shadows told her softly. Do they truly bother you that much?

“I know that I won’t ever be the beautiful one. But…if…If I could just feel…just feel pretty…just once,” she whispered, staring at that advertisement. 

If they could just fix her teeth… 

As soon as you feel better, the shadows promised her. But that’s not ridiculously expensive. Neither is one single pair of shoes, that dress….or a few yards of that fabric. Nearly teasing. 

But it was nice teasing. Sweet teasing. Teasing that did nothing but make a small smile appear on her face. 

“I could always buy more fabric,” she gave back, biting her lip and the shadows tugged at her fingers in response. 

But if magic could fix her teeth…maybe it could also fix her hair. 

A light brown mess on her head that never did what she wanted it to do… 

“Is there something for my hair as well?” she asked hesitantly, and the shadows flipped through her catalogue until it brought her to a page with hair care supplies. 

There are potions you can use…enchanted brushes too, they told her. You’ll want something for naturally curly hair.  

They didn’t need to tell Eira that twice. 

The morning she stopped bleeding she was out on the streets of Velaris as soon as the sun rose…dropping off the dresses she had hemmed, and picking up her newest commissions and then walking to that shop that promised her perfect teeth. 

It was a woman, a female, her age who looked up from the magazine she was reading, took one look at her, asked for a handful of gold coins…gave her a mirror in her hand and then drily said: “Just say stop when they have the size you want.”

And that was that. 

Eira could have wept with her gratitude. 

Her teeth looked perfect. Just like she had so often hoped they would look. 

The same could be said about her hair after one bath with her new potions and a run-through with her enchanted brush. 

Unmanageable frizzy hair that never looked like she wanted it to look? 

With magic no more. Thick, perfect, glossy curls fell over her shoulders in fat ringlets. 

To say that she was in a good mood after that…It was the understatement of a dozen centuries at least. 

Eira was ecstatic. 

She loved it. She felt…she felt so pretty. For once. 

“Good Morning!” she chirped as she entered the dining room. Not even the sight of Elain pouring over her wedding binders could put a dent in her happiness that morning. 

“Good Morning,” Elain responded, staring at her like she had gone mad but Eira didn’t care, as she poured herself a cup of tea, took a slice of toast, smeared jam all over it... 

“It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it?” she asked brightly, as she took a bite, chewed, swallowed…

Elain stared at her. 

“Eira…what did you do with your teeth?” her sister asked her, staring at her. 

“I got them fixed! Isn’t that great? Magic can do that!” she enthused. They were perfect! They looked just like she wanted them to look!

It was like thunder pulled over Elain’s expression. “You can’t be serious!” she snapped. “What were you thinking?!”

“That I got my teeth fixed?”  Eira gave back questioningly. What did it even matter to Elain? Couldn’t she just be happy? Eira was so fucking happy about her choice. 

“This doesn’t change things, Eira!” Elain said harshly. “It’s still never going to go anywhere!”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was beaten to it. 

“What is never going to go anywhere?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway as she entered, Nyx on her hips, staring around the room…waving chubby little arms in Eira’s direction that made her smile at him brightly. 

“Eira’s little crush on Azriel,” Elain said evenly. “He’s completely disinterested. and she has gone and gotten her teeth fixed in some hare-brained attempt to…”

“What does it matter to you?” Eira interrupted her. This had nothing to do with…him. This had been for her. Because she was the one her teeth bothered, long before she had ever even met him.  “They aren’t your teeth.” 

Feyre stared at her and Eira smiled brightly, showing all her teeth…something she would have never done before. But now she did. 

“Your teeth were fine before,” Feyre told her, staring at her like she couldn’t quite believe that Eira had gone and done this.  

“My teeth were too big for my mouth,” Eira disagreed. And really, she didn’t understand why she even needed to defend herself on this. “The last time I checked I was allowed to do with my body whatever I wanted,” she murmured under her breath. 

And this…this was harmless. This was just fixing her teeth. It didn’t hurt anybody. Not her, not anybody else…

Feyre didn’t seem convinced. “How much money did you spend on this?” her sister asked her, a sharpness sinking into her voice and Eira crossed her arms. 

“Not a single coin that belongs to you or your mate,” she gave back, her voice cold. “I spend my money, money I earned, on something that I wanted.” 

She was allowed to want things. Whatever she wanted, the shadows had promised her and they had kept that promise. 

“Did you do this because of Azriel?” Feyre asked, softening slightly. “Eira, that’s not going to work.”

She knew that. 

“My whole life does not revolve around other people,” Eira said calmly, meeting her sister's gaze. “I wanted it.”

“He’s still not going to be interested in you,” Elain snorted. 

Once again. Hitting that one weak spot her sister had sussed out. 

People always thought that Elain was oh-so-sweet. What they forgot was that even the most beautiful, most fragrant rose had its thorns. 

She said nothing. Didn’t flinch away. Didn’t say anything. 

“It’s true,” Feyre said with a sigh, actually agreeing with Elain. “I have wanted to talk to you about that, Eira…” her sister said, visibly uncomfortable. “Could you at least try to get over him? It’s…it would be better for…this court.”

Of course, it would be. This court. 

Because that’s what mattered, right? That’s what mattered to the High Lady. 

That the court was functional. That the spymaster wasn’t uncomfortable…that her sister wasn’t having a ridiculous puppy crush on another member of this court.  

And what was Eira supposed to say to this? 

What was she supposed to say to that? 

Eira’s feelings didn’t really matter anyway. They were nothing but an inconvenience. 

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice quiet, staring at her hands so that she didn’t need to look at two of her sisters…so they wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. “I’ll make sure that my feelings won’t inconvenience anybody else ever again.”

“That’s not…” Feyre started, but Eira shook her head.

“I understand,” she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth, all her appetite gone, as she stood to go back to her room. 

[igotanidea]

Boyfriend thing: Dick Grayson x reader

AKA: the wealth gap XD

***

When she started dating Dick, he quickly learned that spoiling her by taking to the best restaurants and fancy places was a no go.

It was heartbreaking, seeing her get self-conscious as the fake belief of not being good enough and not belonging in such premises haunted her mind.

Y/N would simply crouch in her chair, doing her best to shrink or better yet - to disappear so that no one would give her any look, believing she was Dick's dependent, or maybe even --.

Well the rest of that thought was getting blocked all the time. Nonetheless it was clear as day that she was uncomfortable just from staring at the prices on the menu or summary of the purchase of tickets for a concert or other event.

So having her best interest in mind, and driven solely by feelings for her, Dick slowly started picking four stars places instead of five, taking her to vacation to the places off the top5 destination list and purchasing second raw festival entries instead of first.

In his own opinion this was a bit downgrading and almost lower class, but he could suffer a little less luxury for her.

In her opinion it was all too much. Why was he spending all that on her? She was not worth it and it was all redundant and unnecessary and not what she was used to, being raised with four older siblings in a little house, learnt to watch every little expense. Definitely not having enough to order lobster for dinner or fly to Paris just to watch the sunset from the Eiffel Tower.

So one day, sitting in the little cafe where the cheapest beverage (water) was 20 $ she decided to speak up.

"Dick..." the resolve to clear the situation died on her tongue.

"Yeah? What's up Y/N?" Dick grinned, raising head from his creme brulee to meet her eyes. "Hey... hey, what's wrong?" the look on her face alarmed him immediately. "Aren’t you enjoying your dessert?"

"I am. I am, it's delicious! I just think that maybe...." whatever she thought was spoken up incoherently and with a heavy blush on her cheeks.

"Hm? Care to repeat that last part? I didn;t quite get it."

"I-think-I-should-pay-for-half-the-price-for-our-food." she said again on one exhale and with even more red face.

Dick almost choked on his food, starting to cough like he was dying on the spot, his mind spiralling.

"P-pay in half?" he stuttered as if those words were bringing him physical pain. "What do you mean pay in half?! Y/N?"

"It's a normal thing to do--"

"No?" he looked at her with terror and incredulity.

"Look, you cannot just--"

"I can and I will." he quickly snatched her bag from within her reach so she wouldn;t even get a glimpse of the idea to reach for her purse.

"Come on, please. This is not right. I got my own mon--"

Now he was sure he was getting into a cardiac attack. Was she suggesting that she used her money to use on the attraction he was obligated to provide as her boyfriend?

"Y/N... honey, look at me..." he grabbed her hand above the table, interlacing their fingers, waiting patiently for her to meet his gaze. "Who hurt you....?" His tone was soft and sweet upon realising that if she's acting like this, there must have been something in her past. "Who made you believe that--?"

"I feel like I owe you and--"

"O-owe me....?" holy shit, now he was for sure dead, cause her words were like a ton of bricks thrown on him. "For what? For loving you? For wanting to give you all the best? For making sure that all the things we do make you smile?"

"I'm not used to--" her gaze travelled lower, glued to the ground "I always thought-- I mean, other guys--"

"If they made you believe you owe them for things, they weren;t even worthy of that name." Dick scoffed, getting angry at whoever mistreated her. Making a silent promise to himself to track all those assholes down, one way or another. "Look. Normal thing is that a man provides for the woman he loves. And -" he added quickly, sensing she was about to chime in, "And before you start talking about equality I assure you, I am all up for it. But I need to pamper you ok? It;s a must, cause I might die if I don;t." he teased a little.

"You're such a drama queen" she chuckled

"Made you laugh though." he leaned over the table and kissed her cheek "but seriously, Y/N, you give me something that money can never buy - love, happiness... And I suppose that this-" he gestured over the table "-is a poor attempt to show you how much I love you too."

"But I know it."

"I know you do, but what’s worth the money if you have no one to share it with? So, please, on all that's holy, do not ever feel guilty for helping me spend this fortune in the best possible way."

"Which is?"

"Making memories with you." he smiled genuinely, his heart melting upon seeing the real happiness reflected in her eyes at the words. "So? What’s it gonna be? You'll let me do the boyfriend thing or should we call for an ambulance already?"

"You know how much I hate hospitals." Y/N chuckled rolling her eyes playfully "And that is my only reason for letting you do your boyfriend thing. "Because I'd hate to be the lovesick girl waiting in the corridor while her man is fighting for life."

"Works for me." Dick grinned "Now shall we order those world famous gelatos they have here...?"

masterlist

June 2024 masterlist

Requests are open ! :)

[prettyboykatsuki]

lock and key | h. sakura

✮ tags ; afab + gender neutral reader, dom!reader, sub!sakura, ejaculation management, so much dirty talk, praise kink, cumming untouched, nipple play / teasing, established relationships, aged-up characters, 18+

✮ wc ; 3.6k (??)

✮ a/n ; my melatonin is begging me to sleep and im too busy thinking about this guys dick. fuck man whatever.

On the rooftop of Furin, among flower-beds and tomato plants - Sakura asks you to be his with a less than confident pout and a single rose.  

It is stupidly corny and so sincere it borders on funny. You’re a little surprised by it given the nature of your relationship. You’ve been friends since he came into town three years ago - dancing around unrequited feelings for about two years, and recently landed on mutual feelings after someone gave Sakura spiked punch at one of Umemiya’s gatherings.  

He is characteristically clumsy in asking you. He spends the first half of your conversation getting pissed about nothing before you ask him what he wants, all smiles, and he loses his cool all over again. You fall in love with him a little more when he has to avert his eyes to get the words out. He has so many nervous tics. A hand on the back of his neck, chewing the inside of his lip.  

The most noticeable part of his confession is just how red he is the entire time. His shirt is a little loose, and when he ducks his head down - you can see perfectly along the curve of back and he’s blushing. It’s so cute, so stupidly endearing - you completely lose track of what’s happening around you.  

You manage to accept the confession. Sakura gains the courage to kiss you but he’s shaking the whole time, and it’s so cute to see how much he fumbles despite having known you for years.  

It’s a good memory, and it leaves a strong impression - and it’s no doubt the start of your desire to warp your boyfriends body to your desires so strongly.  

__  

Sakura blushes easily.  

Too easily. 

For as long as you’ve been friends, he’s never been able to kick the habit. You’d almost think he was allergic to sincerity given how much he reacts to even the faintest presence of it. It doesn’t matter where that sincerity is directed—though it’s much worse when it’s for him—it’s just something he’s conscious of generally. It’s to the point where it’s a running joke amongst the friend group, though never to his face.  

He suffers enough with so little teasing, no one really has the heart to go further. And even without being teased, Sakura is super reactive. Like a cat hissing or electricity bubbling through water - pure danger at the lightest brush or sensation. Be it romance, or friendship, or the vaugest compliment. Sakura will blush and squirm for any reason at all, really. 

In a way, you think that’d take away from the novelty of it but it hasn’t. Every time Sakura breaks out into a faint blush, you feel your heart squeeze tight in your chest.  

It’s hard not to bully Sakura when he makes it so unbelievably easy. And looks so cute when you do it.  

You do your best to curb your desires at first because Sakura tries hard to look cool in front of you. Towards the beginning of your relationship, he seemed especially determined to be more boyfriend-like towards you. You’re sure that’s tangentially related to how you two started as friends and how terribly self-aware he is of it all the time. You already know each other well, but the step-up from friend to partner is just a little bit too steep for him to climb easily. This manifests in the most try-hard version of Sakura you’ve ever known in your life, and it’s very sweet.  

It is, really.  

Too sweet. Too cute. It does nothing but pour gasoline on the sexual desire and mild fetish you’ve developed for your boyfriends easily embarrassed personality. It worsens it so much it’s a little shocking to you.  

Maybe you’ve always had that kind of inclination, but Sakura takes what was once just a passing thought and blooms into full blown sexual fantasy with no effort at all.  

You plan on keeping it to yourself at first, because you’re pretty sure you’d scare him off if you brought it up too soon. 

The first time you make out with Sakura though, after you start dating - he cums in his pants after a little kissing and grinding. Not that abnormal for a virgin you think. What is, however, abnormal - is what actually ends up pushing him over the edge and making him cum so quickly: praise. 

It was like feeling time slow down. You’d whispered in his ear that he felt good - that he was kissing you in a way that felt good. On the next breath, he bucked his hips up against the seam of his pants and made a mess in his jeans. Whimpered in your ear like a whining cat in heat, with no self-awareness until after the fact. His cum was warm against your clothed crotch as he rode his high - breathless and stupid. Not a thought behind his eyes for a few seconds until he could collect himself enough to be ashamed.  

Sakura having a praise kink is so obvious when you think about it, it’s a little laughable. But to know the extent of it made your desires towards him all that much stronger.  

It gave you the confidence to proceed in trying to change his body and make it a little more sensitive. Not being able to stop think about it made you want to push the boundaries, which is why you end up asking Sakura to let you take the reigns.  

Of course he doesn’t want to agree at first. It’s a hit to his pride you’re sure.  

But with a little more coaxing, he agrees to let you do as you please and hear you out on whatever weird thing you seem so interested in doing. He’s weak to your pouting, even weaker to pleasure - so fine, if you want to do something weird to him, he’ll let you.  

Permission was all you needed.  

__  

You start slowly.  

The first time you see Sakura again after agreeing on letting you lead, he can barely stand to be in the same room as you. He decides to let you come over to his apartment instead of going over to yours. You spend the whole day together having an at-home date that ends up being more cooking and watching movies on a laptop together than anything else.  

Night falls when Sakura eventually signals his desire for intimacy after he spent the day escaping his nerves. He doesn’t say it as much as he shows it. After you come out from the shower, he stares at you so intensely it’s hard not to get the.  

You get down on your knees to kiss him before you pull away, a hand on his cheek and pure adoration seeing the state of his face. Cherry red blush dusted all over his skin and pupils blown wide with such adorably obvious desire. 

“Can I touch you?”  

“Why’re you asking?” He stumbles over the words. “J-just do it.”  

You press your back against the wall and tell Sakura to sit between your spread legs - pleased as he obliges you even after some hesitance. You’re a little afraid yourself, the enormity of your lust as Sakura rests his back against your chest overwhelming.  

“This is weird.”  

“Bear with it, please?”  

He doesn’t complain again. You kiss against his shoulder blades, smiling at the way he squirms - tilting his head to meet your mouth and kiss him over his shoulder.  

Your hands clasp his waist, nails running along his sides deliberately slow - dragging against the fabric and so lightly against the skin. He protests it but doesn’t tell you to stop. You let your nails brush against his nipples and his cock jumps in his boxers. Moonlight seeps through the windows, emphasizing the paleness of him under his clothes You can feel his musculature as his back lays against your chest, the steady pumping of your heart matching your own.  

When he reaches the brink of a complaint, you whisper his name against his ear.  

“Haruka-kun,” Tender and breathless - warm against his cool skin. “Just trust me okay? I’ll make you feel really good.”  

“I’m the one that should be—,” His words cut off with a moan, a little helpless sound as you brush against his nipples again. “Damn it.”  

“You want to make me feel good, right? You’re so thoughtful, baby.” Your praise comes in thick - accompanied with a more direct touch. You brush your palms over his clothed erection, smiling as it twitches again. His hips buck for more friction that you don’t afford him. “It makes me feel good when you listen.”  

“That’s…”  

You squeeze his shaft through his clothes for a few seconds before letting go again. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you Haruka?”  

“The hell,” It intends to come out harsher than it does. Another muffled moan as you squeeze his cock again, watching his face bloom in reds. He drops his head back along your shoulders. Almost boneless in your arms, you continue to touch his cock indirectly. “What are you.. ohhh,”  

“My good boy. Listen well, and I’ll make sure it feels really good. And you can have anything you want afterwards. Okay?” 

“…Anything?”  

“Anything,” You promise gently. “But you have to listen. Can do you that for me?“ 

He gives you another short, precise nod as you rub his cock again affectionately, a kiss on the nape of his neck. He shivers as goosebumps form along his skin.  

“Damn it. Fine.”  

You kiss him again, another stroke following the touch as you grin against his shoulder. “Perfect.”  

__  

You spend three weeks managing Sakura’s orgasms.   

It takes him a little while to deal with your unreasonable request. You tell him again though that if bears with for a while, he can have anything he possibly wants from you. The prospect of that is too exciting for him to turn you down, so he caves eventually.  

You have one rule: Sakura can’t cum for seven consecutive days. After seven days you want him to cum untouched. No matter what though, you’ll reward him. 

 It takes him a while to reach that goal. You spend your nights doing the same routine as the first nigh, escalating by drawing it out more each time. Light touches followed with deliberately thick, syrupy praise. You fulfill his needs through other means, but showering him in affection makes up most of it.  

You get good at learning what things make him tick. Sakura likes to hear that he’s good for you above all else. That’s always the thing that makes him twitch. He likes being praised for his efforts less than he likes mindless flattery. He likes when you attach possession to the words you use. Affirm his place as yours with every stroke of hands or tracing of fingers. Light touches make him shiver so much it’s cute.  

You learn that his nipples are sensitive and so are his ears and the inside of his thighs when you squeeze them. He likes rougher treatment of his chest but softer against his neck. He likes to be squeezed firmly instead of lightly but you tend to avoid touching his dick too much if at all.  

It’s a little like training a puppy. You follow your routine with strict habituation and Sakura picks up on your cues quickly. Over a few weeks, you watch him grow to anticipate the session of unadulterated praise. Eventually, he’s red before you even touch him, glassy eyed and hard before you even get on your hands on him or kiss him. Just the anticpation is enough because he’s already so easy to work up.  

He fails in not cumming a few times, but that’s okay - you always assure him it’ fine.  

Again and again, you shape his tastes to fit your preferences with cool direction and repetition like water eroding stone. Sakura stops questioning it once the pleasure starts to sink in, eventually so hung up on the feeling - you can barely be in public together without his mind drifting back to it. His headspace gets so melty.  

He’s always been quiet when it comes to affection but he’s practically docile, putty between your fingers as he lets himself be completely pampered when you’re alone. It’s a little surprising ow well he takes it, but you think the desperation outweighs the shame. The desire for release too strong to refuse it no matter how much of a fuss he puts up at the start.  

It’s cute to see him corrupt so fast for your sake. He’s too prideful to beg but once he gets so desperate, he makes a face that’s practically the same. He starts to be interested in the reward at one point or another - though you’re not sure when exactly that is. He really tries so hard not to cum. Your rules are always clear and simply.  

He can cum before you if he wants,  but he has to wait seven days for a rewards. You’ll know if he cums before then. 

After three weeks of ruined orgasms, he eventually abides by this. He still wants you to touch him though. You spend your time as a normal couple until nightfall, and when it’s time - Sakura waits for you to start.  

He’s not vocal about his submission, doesn’t acknowledge it in full even when it’s so obvious. His compliance speaks for itself you think. How he spreads his legs and relaxes into your body more and more - allowing himself to be completely quiet and listen to you. You know you’ve got him when he stops fighting any of it and just allows you to touch him without too much fuss.  

You’re good to Sakura of course. You always praise him softly, sweetly - always kiss him as much as he wants even if you don’t touch his cock directly. You always make him feel good in other ways even if he’s not allowed to cum.  

Eventually, he makes good on the promise of one week. It’s hard on him, you can tell - and he doesn’t do it without whining, but he fights for it. Lets you touch and tease and praise him until his brain shuts off, crawling into your arms right afterwards so you can card your fingers through his hair and praise him more with his face buried in your chest eventually falling to sleep.  

A week passes, eventually - and this time, you end up on Sakura’s lap. A good distance away from his cock. You sit closer to his knees as he sits on a comfortable chair in your well furnished apartment. You haven’t touched him at all, but he’s already got the pretty, glassy expression on his face.  

You cup his cheek with your hand, endeared by how he nuzzles instinctively into your palm. He’s not wearing anything today while you remain clothed aside from your top. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” You coo. The reaction is instant, eyes lidding and face growing hot as you continue to shower him with attention. He groans faintly but doesn’t say anything in reply. “It took a little while, but you made it a whole week. Haruka-kun did a good job for me. Made me so happy.” 

He likes hearing that. Praise about how it pleases you always sticks. His face grows warm with familiar, pained arousal. He flushes red down to his chest - his whole body radiating heat. You stare at his cock as it twitches to life at the words, elated when you see the first dribble of precum slide down the shaft. It’s hard for you to not to touch him but you wouldn’t ruin your own hard work.  

“You like making me happy huh? You always do,” You mutter, brushing your thumb across his cheek bone. He’s quiet, eyes look misty as you talk. “My pretty boy. All mine forever. All of you. From here to,” Your brush hair from his forehead before trailing your nails down his chest - lightly scratching above the base of his cock, on his stomach. You brush the soft, bi-colored hairs at the base but don’t get close enough to touch. “Here. Always mine, baby.”  

“S-shit, hngh,”  

“You worked so hard, didn’t you?” You kiss his forehead, his temple, his cheek. “I know it was tough. Bet you’re gonna cum so much for me today. I’ll give you anything you want after you cum once. Anything. Doesn’t that sound nice?”  

His words come out as a slur, thick with want. “Y’promise?”  

Your heart flutters. “Mhm. Whatever you want. You can fuck me, use my mouth. Anything, baby. It’s all yours. You earned it. Such a good boy.”  

“Nghhh,” He throws his head back slightly, his cock twitching again. Bobbing as it jumps against air, you stare down at how more pre-crum dribbles from the tip. “Fuck, fuck. Need to cum, can’t—I can’t”  

“You can cum whenever, Haruka. You’re getting so messy. It’s for me, right? Haruka’s cum,” You mumble, staring at it. “So thick. So much of it left,”  

His eyes go wide before breaking out into another wave of heat - cheels flushing red. His ears, nose, face — all of it. He groans aloud, adams apple bobbing in his throat as arousal makes his cock pulse.  “Good boy. Come on. I want to see you cum for me. Do you think you can? Think you can cum if I praise you a bit? Your cock twitches so much when I’m sweet to you baby, does it make you feel that good to hear? Made you so weak to praise your dick can barely stand it, right? It’s cute. Haruka-kun is so, so cute.”  

His jaw is dropped open dumbly, unable to speak or say anything else as he shivers underneath you. You can feel him squirm, his cock twitching again and again. You don’t touch his dick at all, but you slide your hand down to the soft planes of his stomach and hold it there. Rubbing soft circles into it with your thumb.  

“It’s twitching so hard,” You say with fascinated delight. His whole body strains, a short, clipped, helpless whimper escaping his lips completely involuntary. He bites back as much of the noise as he possible can as your own arousal builds in your stomach. “I’m so turned on watching you like this.”  

It’s almost like a switch flips in him. You can see the surprise in his face, see the reaction in his physical body so fast you can’t help but laugh in awe. “Did you think I just did it for no reason?”  

“No, but… I didn’t think — I d-don’t know, I just didn’t think.” 

You laugh again. “Then should I tell you? I get wet when I bully you and you get like this. So pathetic and needy and so cute. You always get mad when I call you cute but your cock is twitching so much hearing it,” You tell him contentedly. “It feels so good seeing you blush like this. You turn red and it’s so pretty - Haruka-kun is so pretty it’s unfair. Isn’t it natural that I get like this looking at you?”  

He groans, his shoulders shaking as you push him forward. You laugh, delighted by his reaction.  

“Should I tell you something good?” You tease, watching for his eyes to lock with yours before you go on. “I alway went home and touched myself thinking of what kind of face you made for me the night before. Came so much to how pretty Haruka is, you know? Even right now, I’m holding back from touching you and making you cum all over my hands. You wanna cum inside instead though right? After you cum once, I’ll get you nice and hard again and then you can cum where you want. Okay? Cum for me, baby. Be good for me.”  

You hear Sakura gasp and know what’s coming, smiling to yourself as his muscles go taut - hips bucking up as it overtakes him. 

You let your hand hover over the tip of his cock and watch his body shudder as he lets out a load of cum completely untouched. It’s so thick and heavy it doesn’t really shoot as much as it spills all along his shaft in his spurts. Sakura sobs in ruin at the sensation, groaning as your hand wraps around the base of his cock and pumps out the rest.  

His entire body shudders in a flush of red - all rashy knees and blushy chest, nipples tense and hard as he cums while his stomach tightens as he releases. His cock throbs against your hands, still completely hard even after having orgasmed. His face is wet, vision blurred from fat tears that he can barely blink away in time.  

He’s so reactive to the feeling of your hand, he ends up cumming again a little with a strained cry.  

You watch him in amusement, waiting for him to settle down as you rest your palm over the tip to catch any more cum. After you lean forward to meet his mout. He kisses you so eagerly, all tongue and spit - pulling away with breath.  

“You’re so good for me, Haruka,” You kiss the corner of his mouth. “How should I reward you?”  

“Don’t care just,” He drops his head down. “Touch me. All over. Make me feel good. I want to feel you. P-please.”  

You smile a little. “Must be really bad for you to ask me something so embarrassing with your own voice.”  

“Shut the hell up. My dick is gonna explode and it’s so embarrassing so just” He groans. “Y-you’re the devil, just. Please.”  

“Course baby,” You mutter, stroking his cock for emphasis - happy as you watch him shiver. “Anything you want.”  

[deluluonmyback]

impulsivity in bpd can be cutting and dyeing your hair, but it’s also frying and destroying your hair to a point where it’s completely ruined and you’re self conscious of it everyday.

impulsivity in bpd can be having an attitude and saying some petty things to people, but it’s also ruining every good friendship and relationship you’ve ever had and you can’t stop yourself from sabotaging everything, so you end up alone in a deep pit.

impulsivity in bpd can be having some drinks, doing dr*gs, or having a lot of meaningless sex. but it’s also relying on drinking and dr*gs so much that you’re completely off your face all time and it ruins your image and every aspect of your life. and it’s also no one wanting a relationship with you because you “sleep around” or “probably have an std”.

impulsivity in bpd can be browsing an fps facebook. but it’s also stalking their every move online and their every step in the real world constantly because you need them so bad. you can’t live without knowing if they’re okay, knowing what they’re doing, knowing if they’re leaving you for someone else, etc.

the list goes on. us borderlines post a lot of shit about bpd, and in my personal case, laughing it off and sharing it to others makes me feel a bit better and i know that it makes others feel less alone knowing that other people are doing the same horrendous shit. but stop romanticising being obsessive, quirky, impulsive, and having an attitude. it’s fucking painful. the emotional aspect is PHYSICALLY painful. watching the world crumble around us because most of us can’t fucking stop ourselves is painful. the withdrawals from substances, s/h, etc because we are so prone to addiction is PAINFUL. i’m all for supporting our fellow borderlines and cluster b peoples, but STOP self diagnosing to be “trendy”. i’m not on about self diagnosing, etc if you’re certain and it means you’re getting the support that you absolutely need. everyone is deserving of help, whether healthcare wants to agree or not, EVERYONE deserves the help they need. but stop trying to make bpd sound fun. being euphoric is fun, the rest of it IS NOT. ITS FUCKING PAINFUL. thank u bye 💕

(ps. i hate making rant posts about this, but seeing people act like bpd is a “fun choice” in life pisses me the fuck off, every day is just pure fucking suffering. the people romanticising and hyping this shit up are the same people who will talk shit about any cluster b who is showing symptoms or having one hell of an episode. but this NEEDS to be out there x)

(edit: the amount of support i’ve had on this is unreal 😭❤️ i tried to word this the best i can but when i have a lot to say it often comes out making no fucking sense at all or something comes off the wrong way. i saw someone reply about the yanderes shit. I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN. i don’t know why the fuck people fetishise it, it makes me feel disgusting to have an fp even if i’m keeping as far away from them as possible. and also the “euphoric is fun”, i still do a lot of embarrassing and over the top shit when i’m euphoric that i regret. but in the moment, the happiness i feel i just embrace now because it’s not been often that i ever get to feel like that. thank you so much for the likes and reblogs, i really hope this post has helped y’all. I LOVE YOU ALL ❤️)

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hazbin Hotel characters react to your stims

(I'm doing my personal favorite characters, so if there are others you wanna see, ask me. They may also be slightly OOC.)

Vox

You can't convince me this man doesn't also have ADHD. He's just spent decades masking it, as well as most of himself, to present a perfect image. Probably heard the term as it got more well known but didn't really connect the dots until meeting you.

He fidgets a lot, tapping his claws, bouncing his legs, can't sit in a fucking chair properly.

Doesn't realize he's overstimulated and burnt out from multi tasking dozens of screens until you point it out.

Once he's aware of it you help him manage his work better so he can be less stimulated and tense. You buy him proper fidget toys to mess with and he makes himself some top of the line bass boosted sound canceling headphones. He gives you a pair, too. When you're both alone, you look up songs with loaded bass in 8d just to watch each other twitch and involuntarily move your head with the sound.

That's about the extent of the conscious level of unmasking he'll do though. He gets self conscious.

But, he adores the fact you're comfortable enough to stim around him. Or in public. He can and will violently end people for even giving you dirty looks for stimming in public.

If you show excitement and joy over being around someone through happy noms he will literally get heart eyes. Just be careful where you bite him because it may lead to something else.

He's happy to let you stim, which means tricking him into doing it more.

He remembers and sub consciously absorbs your echolalias or any word replacements you use. If you do a lot of call and response vocals he learns them. (Call and response is basically when you memorize a sound with two people. One calls the other responds. You can just say both parts yourself ((I do)) but it's more satisfying with someone else).

If you do happy flappies this man will short circuit. (He will laugh if you accidentally smack yourself though).

If you squeal and kick you may give him a heart attack. He thought you were hurt or something. He gets used to it eventually but it still startles him.

Vox is also a chatter box so you two can info dump about special interests to each other for hours. Neither one of you expects the other to remember details, but the fact you don't tell each other to shut up and are content to do your own thing while listening to your partner/friend gush is enough.

He has long since forced himself into strict routines so if you struggle to get tasks started or get distracted in the middle of them he's understanding but stern. Tends to cause more harm than good because he talks down to you unintentionally.

If you're a visual/hands on learner he also gets frustrated with you for wasting hours trying to figure it out yourself and getting yourself upset instead of just letting him do it for you. You get into a lot of fights about it at first. He gets better when he sees it genuinely prevents you from enjoying things or trying new things and that you just kinda default to defeated and helpless. He didn't mean to make you feel dumb, he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't want help. Until the tables turn and as he's getting worked up over something he can't figure out and you just stare at him.

He finally snaps at you what the hell you're doing and you smirk "need help? Why don't I just do it for you and you watch? Come on, you've been struggling for an hour, stop being so stubborn and just let me do it. I'll show you later, it's not hard." You feed his own lines back at him and his stomach drops.

"Oh....that feels...mmmm. Nope! Don't like that. Ok. Won't happen again, doll."

Realistically if you work with him and you make mouth noises a lot (bird whistles, tongue clicks, humming, random shrieks) he will get annoyed. It's distracting him and sometimes you don't realize you're doing it and mess up anything he tries to record. The first few times he snaps at you and it causes problems (hello rejection sensitive dysphoria) but eventually he learns how to better talk to you/communicate without accidentally convincing you he hates you.

Alastor

Probably on the spectrum himself, but it also could just be his anti-social habits. Either way he finds you entertaining and your bouts of sporadic energy and gremlin like behavior don't phase him. He's been dealing with Niffty for years.

If you sing or hum a lot to get work done, or listen to music he's all for it. But if you're the type of ADHD where work fast music=horny and bass he'll insist you wear headphones. If you're content to listen to swing (he'll compromise with electroswing) or jazz, he'll play the radio for you.

He doesn’t even care if you're a good singer or not, he just likes seeing you get into it. Will show off by singing it better than you though.

If you're someone who picks your fingers or skin, he'll slap your hands. You bleeding is making him hungry and distracting him. He'll find you something else to do with your hands. Same with nail biting.

He tends to pull his hair when stressed so if you stim with your hair he gets it and unless it's harmful (eating/pulling) he'll leave it, but if you're like him he's either cutting your hair short or braiding it.

Will die before admitting it but thinks you flapping, hopping, clapping, squealing is the most adorable thing ever. Also, laughs at you if you smack yourself, though.

Doesn't understand your memes so half your echolalia go over his head and he just kinda stares at you.

Scolds you for not sitting in the chair properly.

Smiles, nods, and occasionally says "that's nice dear" when you info dump. It's not that he doesn't care, he just can't listen to something he's not interested in for that long.

Mouth noises make his eye twitch but so long as they don't interrupt him, he won't scold you.

He understands you're not dumb but he also doesn't have the patience to help your or wait for you to get things done so he does them for you and tells you stop pouting when you get upset with him.

He likes you enough to not reject your touch and enjoys being in your space, but please refrain from happy biting the cannibal. He will bite back and it's less cute when he does.

Lucifer

The original AUDHD. You two chatter for hours about special interests.

He makes you stim toys.

You two do the adhd laugh so hard over dumb shit you gotta hold onto and smack each other thing. You both wind up on the floor.

Literally would never talk down to you or trigger your RSD. He's spent centuries feeling like he's constantly annoying, dumb, and struggling to time manage and do tasks.

Is equally fed up with people offering to do things for him because he can do it he just needs help getting started. The more you ask if he wants you to do it or when he's gonna do it the harder it is. So you two just sorta hobble together a system for getting shit done.

It's not perfect but if it gets outta hand he can just snap his fingers and fix it.

He happy flaps with his hands and wings and constantly knocks you or other shit over. It embarrasses him but you're in love. You two sometimes hold hands to do the happy bounce squeal, shaking each other.

He initiates happy bites more than you do. Honestly you both start looking like chew toys.

You two echolali all the time and share new ones you find. If you ever can't find each other, just shout one of your current vocal stims and he'll respond.

Literally, the definition of choas couple.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 2 — 𝖕𝖙 1 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖕𝖙 3 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, smut, phone sex, wee bit of angst, brief mention of the word 'daddy'

notes - vibrating with both excitement and fear, but hoping y'all love this like you loved the last one!! also on ao3! ♥

Johnny was right to send you to bed when he did because you're already struggling to get through the day, and on any less sleep, you might have fallen asleep at your desk. Clearly, you're terrible at making decisions for yourself, if that wasn't already evidenced by the nearly empty fridge accompanied by the pile of empty takeout containers.

It's not even the end of the workday yet, and you're beat—except staying up with Johnny was so worth it, getting to hear his voice and everything he said was complete bliss. You only wish he was here now, whispering in your ear and making your day go by quicker. Unfortunately, the sad reality is that beyond your good morning text, you haven't heard from him since, and you hate that you already feel like you're suffering from withdrawals. 

Again, that could be the lack of sleep, or adequate nutrition, or the fact that lately you haven't exactly been the most social person, and you've definitely been missing social contact. All of that missing need you just want to be filled by Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—his name like a chanted prayer in your mind. 

You at least have the sense of mind to focus when you need to, but at any idle moment, Johnny crawls back into your brain. Your mind drifts to wondering what he's up to, wondering where in the world they've shipped him off to this time—what timezone is he even in? What hemisphere? 

5 p.m. comes round sooner than you expect, and you find yourself logging off from your work laptop with a relieved sigh. You might be exhausted from lack of sleep, but Johnny's arrival in your life left you energised in a way you hadn't felt in so long. Every part of you hums with excitement, thinking about what the future might hold. 

You have to keep snapping yourself out of getting lost in the fantasy, even as you find yourself rereading through texts and committing Johnny's words to memory. The last time you did this still sticks in the back of your mind, still stings—someone who came into your life and was everything until they were nothing. Someone who said they could be trusted as they broke down your barriers. 

The aching loneliness was too much, so you'd run from it straight into something worse, not even realising how easily you fell into the trap. 

Your thoughts were spiraling, and you needed a distraction, so you put on the TV in the hopes of getting lost in the shitty reality dating show you've been watching lately. 

A few hours later, the buzz of your phone pulls you from the drama of the screen—your spirits soaring as you see the little icon you're rapidly growing attached to. 

Evening bonnie, hope you're not napping too close to bed time. 

hi!! no... for once, lol. how was your day? 

Long, but thoughts of you got me through ;) how was yours? 

The rapid responses mean your smile never has time to waver, as your eyes are glued to the screen watching as the messages are read, the app tells you he is typing and then another one of his messages appears. 

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you eagerly respond.

somehow managed to not fall asleep at my desk, i would've napped but... 

But? 

didn't want to risk missing any messages from you. 

Johnny heart reacts to the message immediately. 

Call? 

please!!! 

Mere seconds later, his face fills the screen once more, and your sheer excitement overtakes your nerves by far.

"Hi." You say shyly, as soon as you accept the call.

"Hi bonnie, gotcha on loudspeaker by the way." He greets you, his voice immediately sending warmth through you. 

You were rapidly growing obsessed with his terms of endearment, too. 

"Oh." You pause, suddenly self-conscious and hesitant. "Are you not alone?" Does anyone in his life even know you exist? You know you haven't really mentioned to your friends that you're 'dating' again.

"Definitely am, don't worry. Jus' need ma hands free." 

At that, your brow furrows, your voice filling with both mischief and disbelief. "What are you doing, Johnny?" 

He chuckles, before rustling some papers around. "Paperwork, nothing fun." 

Even hearing the word paperwork right now drains you, and can hear that Johnny isn't exactly pleased with the idea either. 

"Wishing I was under the desk again?" You ask, hoping your playful tone will make him smile. 

"Dinnae start." He groans. "What are you doing? Have you eaten?" 

"Not yet, I need to check my milk is still in date." You throw yourself off the sofa and make your way through to the kitchen—it's a good job Johnny actually poked you to eat. 

"Milk?" His voice is filled with confusion.

"For cereal." 

"Ach." 

"I can feel your disapproval from here." You can practically sense him shaking his head disapprovingly too. 

"Good, I see how this gonae be." He sighs, the disappointment evident, along with that sense of control, guidance. 

It just makes you tingle.

"Yes, daddy?" You giggle audaciously like you know exactly what you're doing, and hope it has the effect you want it to.

Johnny chokes, and then growls... and then sighs. "Away n bile yer heid." He whispers, yet he sounds anything but angry, his voice thick with arousal as he undoubtedly fights all kinds of urges. 

You want to take that step with Johnny, to dirty talk with him now that you feel comfortable, but you suppose now isn't the time—after all, he is still working. 

"I'm being mean now, sorry." 

"A right brat." He growls playfully. "Do something for me, lass?" 

The shift in his tone and the previous conversation topic gives you a good guess at what's coming next. "Is it cooking a real meal?" You groan playing into the role.

Well, admittedly committing to self-care tasks like cooking isn't the easiest thing in the world, and having someone to guide you in that is... a turn-on. 

"Knew you were a smart girl." He purrs, and those words turn your brain and your body to mush. 

You have to stifle a whine from leaving you, as your face flushes furiously. Oh, how you wish you could hear that over and over again—in that voice, with that accent, whispered right in your ear as he—

"What you gonna cook?" He asks, interrupting your rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

Staring into the fridge is a depressing experience—the shelves are mostly bare and there's a faint smell of something off. "Ugh, I don't have a lot in, to be honest." 

"Logging onto the Tesco website now, or maybe meal delivery service..." He muses, and you can imagine the smirk on his lips.

"Johnny!" Your protest is weak, as the coddling and infantalisation make you feel something you probably shouldn't. 

He snickers at your tone, but he knows now that if things are to continue, he won't listen to your objections. "Jokin'... for now. Talk me through yer fridge, lass." 

"Do you cook?" You ask, wondering if he's going to magically talk you through a recipe with the condiments in your fridge and the dried pasta in the pantry. 

There's a beat of silence. "Not often." 

You're overcome with a fit of giggles and a wave of faux offense. "Then who are you to lecture me?" 

Johnny meets your exclamation with a series of tuts, which already quiet your discontent, but you find yourself ruined when his voice drops and he delivers his next few words. "What happened to 'Johnny knows best'?" 

Fuck him, using his powers for good—and you can already tell he's getting off on it too. Today, you won't indulge him by submissively repeating it back, since he's making you face the horror that is cooking.

"Fine." You sigh, looking for what items in the fridge that are actually still in date. You pull open a cupboard or two as well. "I have... hummus and celery and uh, supernoodles in the cupboard." 

"Better than cereal." He waits for your response that doesn't come, as you pout on the end of the phone, and then he plays his next move flawlessly.  "For me, bonnie girl?" 

The plea in his voice makes you melt, makes you want to do just about anything for him. 

"For you." You say with a smile, grabbing the packets of noodles and a saucepan. "Have you eaten?" 

"A have, chicken tikka masala." 

You sigh, knowing that if not for Johnny you could've ordered a nice Indian for yourself—you get to work on the noodles anyway. "Kinda jealous now, if I'm honest."

His laugh is short but earnest. "Same, haven't had beefy supernoodles in an age." 

"Yeah, I would hope they're feeding you actually decent, nutritious food over there." 

He huffs. "I would hope you're feeding yerself decent food, but here we are." That playful judgement is back, lacing his words and making you crave his approval. 

It's a startling thought, that here you are, only a few days in and needing his praise, his encouragement—you suppose it comes easy as it plays into both of your natural instincts—his to lead, yours to follow.

"Less sass, more... paperwork." You grumble playfully, trying to cover up the fact that, maybe, you like being teased by him. 

"Aye." He laughs, and you can briefly hear him scribbling in the silence.  

For a few moments, it's just the sound of him writing and you cooking, but the quiet feels comfortable rather than awkward—strangely routine and domestic after such a short space of time. 

Your mind wanders back to what the two of you had discussed last night, about his day later in the week. "Have you thought more about Friday?" 

There's a brief shuffle and the sound of the call changes as Johnny seems to take you off the loudspeaker and moves around. "Meetin' you?" 

"Yeah." There's a sense of nervousness within you, a fear he's going to suddenly decide that he doesn't want to see you after all, that he doesn't see this going anywhere. It's so soon, and yet the thought seems crushing. 

"Haven't thought of much else." His confession seems to settle your rapidly beating heart just a little, the sincerity in his voice making your stomach twist and turn. 

Maybe you shouldn't push it, but you want to meet him more than anything, so you can make the first step toward all of this becoming real. "Would you be up for coffee? I can come to you!" 

"About that..." His sigh is weary, and panic overtakes you as the silence stretches on. "Am leaving for a week or so." 

It's not a total rejection at least, but somehow it still stings, still settles heavy and unpleasant in your gut. "When?" 

"Tomorrow." He falls silent, waiting for you to say something, yet you don't know what words to even summon right now. "'m sorry, lass." 

You take a deep breath for a moment, collecting your thoughts as you stir your noodles and try to put everything you feel into some sort of coherent order. 

There's no logical reason to feel rejected, as it's not that he doesn't want the date, but that he can't. Perhaps it's that lingering thought that this kind of thing will be a frequent occurrence—it's just a small taste of what's to come. But wanting Johnny means handling this, like he deserves. 

You push through the discomfort and force yourself into a more positive mindset.

"But... after that? Or is this just because you hate coffee so much you're fleeing the country?" You laugh softly, hoping the joke will lighten the thick atmosphere. 

"Now, if you'd asked me out for tea..." He laughs in return, before turning serious. "But... when I'm back, I'd love to see you. Have ta, really. " 

"I'm glad." The beaming smile on your face is ridiculous, and you're so thankful he can't see you grinning like an idiot at his words. He has to meet you. 

With your cooking complete, you take the saucepan off the stove and pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing it before returning to the comfort of the couch. "Okay, noodles done." 

"Wanna call me back once yer done, or?" 

Fuck, he's so considerate. 

You hum negatively as you start to blow on the noodles to cool them. "I'll eat on the phone if you don't mind the sound of me slurping." 

Johnny chuckles, before making a suggestive noise. 

"The noodles, Johnny." 

He coughs, covering more juvenile laughter. "Aye, the noodles, of course." 

"So... going anywhere fun?" You ask, referencing his upcoming deployment. 

"Classified, I'm afraid." He answers curtly, but you know it's nothing more than his duty. 

No questions about that, then, you suppose. It's going to be a strange thing to adjust to, but it's another thing that comes along with accepting Johnny into your life. You change your line of questioning, hopefully to something he can answer. "Are you... scared?" 

"No." He answers quickly and firmly, in a manner that suggests certainty rather than bravado. "Don't worry about me, hen." He rushes to add.

"Kinda hard not to, even if we only just met..." You sigh, but you suppose you have to trust Johnny's skills and training. "I imagine it only gets more intense from here." 

The admission feels like a swift kick to the stomach. 

"Yeah..." You hear a knock on the door from Johnny's end, and he swears colourfully under his breath. "Ach, can I call yer back?" 

It's almost cruel the way such timing drives the point home. 

"Sure, things to attend to?" You ask absentmindedly, not really expecting an answer. 

He sighs, before trying to turn his tone more positive. "Aye, but I'll catch you before bed, yeah?" 

"Yeah. Bye, Johnny." 

"Bye, lass." 

He ends the call, leaving you with your meal and your thoughts. 

Maybe you aren't strong enough to deal with this after all, you think, trying to settle the ugly, gnawing feeling inside you. It already hurts, but maybe that's because you're trying to hold so tight onto something intangible. Maybe if you and Johnny become something, mean something to each other, it'll all be easier to deal with. 

It's an hour or so later when you're tucked up in bed that Johnny's call lights up your phone. You pick it up instantly. 

"Hey, glad you haven't fallen asleep already." He chuckles, his voice softer than before. 

"Mmm, still hanging on." You mumble, cheek pressed into plushness and tiredness lingering at the back of your mind, as well as the mess of feelings that still simmers within you. 

"Cuddled up with the big B?" He asks, voice cheeky and charming. 

You can't help the soft giggle at the ridiculous nickname. "The big B?!"

"Barnaby!" He clarifies with a hearty laugh, not ashamed at all of his goofiness. 

"The big B! That's so silly" 

The laughs quiet, and another silence falls, but this time you feel the discomfort that comes with it. 

Johnny is the first to breach it, his tone tinged with worry. "How are yer?"

"I'm fine." You sigh, not wanting to elaborate and get yourself upset again. It's not far from the truth. Nothing has changed, but this is something you have to learn to sit with, have to make peace with for both of your sake. 

Johnny cuts right through the noise. "Yer seemed a little upset earlier. Wanna talk about it?" 

Communication—the key to any good relationship, an essential to any kinky one, and one thing you think you really kind of suck at. 

It's a simple sentence with a simple answer, and nothing about Johnny suggests that his reaction will be anything other than supportive—but it's not Johnny's voice that whispers cruel things in the back of your head. And for now, Johnny's influence is not enough to quiet the storm. 

The fear grips at your heart, stops your words right in your throat, but your mind wars between the ghosts of your past and the duty of your present and future. 

Johnny waits quietly, not pushing you for an answer or assuming how you feel, and that small act helps pull you out of the fog and helps you force yourself to speak. 

"Reality setting in, I guess." The words don't come easy at first, your throat tight—but once you start, the rest just seems to flow, taking the weight of your burdens with them. "Like, it's not too bad right now, it's just... knowing what's in store? Assuming we keep talking." 

The opportunity to really put your thoughts in order and get them out actually does help, surprisingly.

Johnny goes silent for a moment, considering your words before he speaks. "If you wanna stop—" 

"I don't." You feel bad for interrupting him, but you already know that's not what you want, even if he sees it as a kindness. "Like I said yesterday, I'm not faint-hearted... the intensity just took me by surprise. All of this has, really." 

"I'm with you there. Sat here thinking about how I'm gonna be thinking of anything else when I'm on the mission." He laughs softly, the sound laden with emotion. "Lt's gonna have my head." 

The gravity of his job sinks in now, with the realisation that he will be busy and focused, and rightfully so.

"Will you be able to get in touch while you're gone?" You ask, more for informational purposes, rather than being unable to last a week without hearing his voice. 

"Not a whole lot, no. Sometimes no' at all, but I'll let you know when I can." He states plainly, and the honesty is so refreshing. 

"I'll try not to bother you too much then." You giggle, though you don't really mean your words. He has his mission, and you have yours—stay strong while he's gone. 

He scoffs instantly. "You? A bother? Never." 

You hum, continuing with your playful statements. "You haven't seen me when I'm clingy." 

"A like clingy, am clingy too." 

Ugh, just when you think he can't be more perfect, he comes out with that. The sweet smile on your face is relentless, and you just know the same is true for him too. "Oh yeah? So you won't be complaining when we meet, and I just take a hold of your hand and don't let go." 

His barked laugh is so genuine that it makes your heart sing. "Bold of yer to assume I'd be letting you go, lass." 

The thought of even his hand in yours is enough to send you into a frenzy—a simple, delicate, and chaste act, yet you crave it like nothing else. When your date finally does come around, you'll be able to touch him and see him up close. You'll be able to hear that voice and those words up close and unrestrained by the slightly shitty quality of the phone call—and that is a little terrifying.  

"I guess waiting isn't a bad thing after all, maybe I'll be less nervous by then." Because right now you know you'd hesitate to reach out and touch him, would struggle looking him in the eye for too long. Maybe if you wait, the radiance that is Johnny's warmth will wear off, but somehow you doubt it. 

"Why ya nervous?" 

You almost snort at such an oblivious question from such a seemingly smart man. "Have you seen you?" Have you talked to you? Been on the end of your affections? Your mind pleads. 

"See this ugly mug every day." He grumbles, though you can still hear the smile. 

"You can't see, but I'm rolling my eyes." You giggle. "But what if I just... can't resist you? Jump you right then and there?" Your voice takes on a more teasing tone. 

"In public?" He tuts, slow and sexy, his voice dropping low. "Naughty girl." 

You straight up whimper. "Needy girl, for you." 

A growl leaves his throat, along with a whispered "Fuck." 

Arousal floods through you, overtakes you, as you feel your mind slipping to a space of deep-seated need, all for him. You feel on fire, your skin hypersensitive to the brush of the sheets, as your lower body hums and begs for attention. No longer can you hold yourself back from falling under his sexy spell. "Your groans, your voice, it all drives me crazy." 

The laugh that leaves him is weaker, choked with arousal. "All wet fer me, bonnie?" His voice, now a touched graveled, wraps so wonderfully around every word. 

"Soaked." You squirm in place, not even needing to feel to know just how dripping you are—every time he teases you, you practically gush. Your spare hand dives below the sheets, tracing ever so slightly over your stomach as it crawls lower. "Johnny?" 

"Yes, bonnie?" It sounds like his control is wavering too. 

"Please can I touch? I need it so bad." You whine and plead, surrendering yourself to Johnny's command. 

"You don't—" Another growl leaves his throat, you hear him shuffle and when his voice returns, he sounds even more aroused than before—sweet, gentle domination drips from his tone. "Touch yerself, go on." 

You comply immediately, your hand diving under your waistband and zeroing in on your swollen clit—relief floods you the second you make contact, your fingers rubbing delicate swirls on your soaked nub as gentle moans force themselves free. 

"Oh fuck." Johnny's breathing is ragged between his groans. "Gonna have tae join ya." 

"Fuckfuckfuck." Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him reaching down to free his aching cock, all for you. Your thoughts center on conjuring up an image of how long and thick you imagine him to be. "Is... is your cock as big as the rest of you?" 

You squeak out your words while you still have command over the English language.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He chuckles breathlessly, some of the words catching in his throat as he clearly works himself. "But I don't think you'll be disappointed. I know how tae take care of yer, know you're already desperate for me." 

Your circles quicken, his words sending pleasure coursing through you in a way that almost feels better than your touch. You fill the air with breathy moans. "Need you, Johnny." 

"Need you too, pet." He growls his words over the building slick sound.

"Oh fuck." Your reaction is instant, the word sending everything in your brain into overdrive. Pet. Pet. You almost cum right then and there, but his assault on your senses and sensibilities continues. 

"God, thinking about you on the end of a leash for me? So fuckin' hard thinking about it." His voice modulates between and whine and a growl, his need growing furiously. "I'd be so fuckin' lucky." 

You imagine the collar slipping around your neck, imagine Johnny clicking shut a lock and attaching a leash—pulling you to him just as he is now with every word. 

"I'd be the most loyal pet ever, I swear." You start to babble, unable to hold back any longer on the wave of submission that overtakes you. "I'll Wait for you to come home, naked and kneeling with my leash ready." 

"Jesus, fuck." Each grunt that leaves him makes you shiver. Each word like its own bolt of electricity straight from his body to yours. "Yeah, my good girl would be so lost without me." He says it with such certainty, speaking the truth to life. 

"I get separation anxiety like mad. I'll miss your touch, miss your smell, miss your taste—" You cut yourself off with a high-pitched whine, your fingers working you so fucking close to the edge.

"Don't worry, I'd fuck you so good before I go bonnie, fill yer up and leave you dripping with me." His groans are accompanied by more of those slick sounds. "Mark that pretty neck o' yours, too." 

"I'm... I'm not gonna last." You admit, holding back even now from cumming—you crave his permission. 

"Me either. Go on, moan for me, let me hear you." He urges you gently, even if his voice is filled with need. 

You let all your noises flow freely as you teeter toward the edge and desperately try to please him with the sounds you make. It's all too good, too much, too overwhelming. 

"Johnny, can I—" 

His demand is out of his mouth before you can even finish your sentence. "Cum fer me, bonnie. Go on." 

You cum with a strangled cry, flying over the edge right as Johnny demands it. The build-up of the past few days along with Johnny's noises has you shaking in ecstasy—ecstasy that's only prolonged when he cums too with a long, drawn-out groan.

After a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, as you come down from your high. 

"Oh my god." You sigh, a silly, blissed-out grin overtaking your features.

"You okay, sweet girl?" His voice returns to that sweetness you're coming to know and love.

You nod mindlessly, even though he can't see you. "Better than okay, are you?" 

He hums in affirmation, before his voice turns a touch serious. "You did so good. Just want tae make sure you're good, and a didn't go too far." 

"Hah, I mean, nowhere near too far." You admit shakily. 

"Am glad, it's only early days, though. That trust..." He hesitates. 

"... It takes a while, yeah." The post-orgasmic bliss coupled with the feeling of that trust taking root and growing. "I'm glad you understand." 

And he understands perfectly, as you never feel pushed or rushed, only pampered and adored. 

"Of course... it's special, for both of us." He admits, and you know you're on the same wavelength when it comes to the bond and relationship between dominant and submissive. 

"Mhmm." You hum dreamily, wholeheartedly agreeing and yet not able to summon up something profound. 

"Already sleepy?" His laughter is soft and sincere. 

"I'd get so much rest if every night was like this." 

"Even more so when I finally get to fuck ya, bonnie." He whispers so casually, yet even after your orgasm your clit still thrums with interest—God, he has such a hold on you.

"Yeah?" You sigh, dreaming of the day you'll get to experience it. 

"Yeah." 

The line falls silent, and you feel yourself fading. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so... sleepy." You whisper while you still have the chance. 

"It's okay, sweet girl, close yer eyes. Am right here." Johnny's sweet voice lulls you closer and closer, and your phone falls free from your hand to your pillow, resting there with Johnny just on the end of the line. 

"Goodnight Johnny." You mumble, before sleep finally takes you.

"Goodnight, Bonnie." His reply is soft, carrying you off to unconsciousness as he drifts off too.  

-//-

Johnny practically vibrates where he stands—wired beyond belief. Part of it is his usual pre-mission adrenaline, but the events of the past few days especially almost have him climbing the walls. His energy is frenetic as usual but with so much more—lust, yearning, withdrawal. 

It's only been a few hours since he ended the call after waking up before you, and yet he finds his thoughts unable to leave you, even as he finishes gearing up. You'd love to see him like this, and an idea strikes him.

He pulls out his phone, turns to the man beside him, and hopes he doesn't regret asking. Then again, some ribbing from the masked man would be nothing compared to the floored reaction he'd get from you.

"Ghost?" He asks, piercing the comfortable silence between the two of them. 

"What?" Ghost turns, eyeing Johnny and his hand holding his outstretched phone.

Johnny doesn't waver, sure in his request, and eager to see your response. "Take a picture of me, yeah?" 

"Girl back home?" Ghost asks, cutting straight to the point as he takes the phone. "Is this the first time she's seeing you? Cause you look fuckin' rough." 

"No." Johnny frowns, and worry washes over him. Surely Lt. is just messing him around—he knows she'll be happy to see him either way. 

Ghost pulls off a glove and navigates to the camera before stepping back and holding up the phone in Johnny's direction. He might be giving Johnny shit, but he at least takes the time to angle and position the frame in a way that compliments Johnny's stature. "She like the tac gear?" 

Johnny sighs, wishing this was over already. "Just take the picture, Ghost." 

"Say cheese." Ghost deadpans, and the softest of smiles graces Johnny's features—for her, not for him.

Johnny practically snatches the phone back from Ghost's hands, checking out the photo immediately. "Thanks." 

He pulls up their messages immediately, firing off the picture with a kissing face and a teasing message just for her. 

When he locks the phone and throws it in his bag, Ghost's eyes are fixed on him, his blackened eyes narrowed.

"Mind on the mission, yeah, Johnny?" 

Johnny nods, doing his best to push thoughts of her away for now, and letting his inner soldier take over. He'll be back to her before he knows it. "Aye, Lt." 

Days later, and after a successful first phase of the mission, Johnny stares down at his phone. The signal is nonexistent and won't return for a while, but he misses you, his mind is itching with his need for you. In this shitty safe house in the middle of nowhere, while someone else is on watch, there's very little to do, and truly nothing else he'd rather think about. 

He scrolls to the top of your messages, rereading each message and reliving each conversation, experiencing all over again how each message made him feel. 

Your sweet texts, your copious use of emojis, and your cute little selfies—it was all so intoxicating to him. For a man who was so used to maintaining focus, you were a fucking curveball. Something about you just sends his protective instincts into overdrive, makes unearned possessive tendrils curl up through him and around his heart—calls out to his guiding, dominant, caring side.

He has to constantly stamp down the thoughts inside that called out to him to find you, scoop you up, and take you home with him. Luckily for you both, Johnny is a patient man. He spends time out in the field waiting days for anything interesting to happen, he's spent years waiting for his pet, his girl to come along—and you're right there. He can wait a little longer. 

He holds down the record button, intent on recording a message for you, and begins whispering into the phone.

"Hi, been sat on my arse for far too long with nothing to do but think of you. Dinnae think I'll get signal anytime soon, but I 'spose it'll send at some point." He feels himself relax just a little as he falls into Johnny, the man—rather than Soap, the soldier.

"Been thinking about our first date, since you mentioned coffee. Kinda had a crazy idea actually, but I need your input. What about a cat café? Has to be one in that city o' yours, and I figure you must like kitties."

"Won't be long until you might be one for me... or a bunny... or a puppy." He interrupts himself with a sigh.

"Need tae stop those thoughts and quit while I'm ahead. Let me know, yeah? As soon as I get my leave, we'll set it up."

"Talk soon, bonnie." 

[chaithetics]

GIRLLLL OMGGGG YOUR MONEKY MAN FIC HELLO?? HELLOOOO???? so good. i just came back from watching it and wtf. now that is how u direct and that is how u make a profound film. (i’m glazing him and this film so hard but idc i just want 1 chance dev PLS JUST GIMME 1 ONE IS ALL I NEED) also r u indian? cuz when i saw the “jaan” i read it it in his voice and my knees literally almost hit the ground like i was like 😧🌚😜😍🤭🤭😋😋🤤🥰 the whole time!!! if i may, can i request another monkey man fic/drabble/whatever u wanna make it but it’s about how they met? basically like a backstory on how they met and got together. thank youuu! 🫶🏽

Blood-Stained Meetings, Nauseous Introductions

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries/blood, longing, reader has no physical description, a kiss, no smut. Not proof or beta read. A/N: Hey lovely Nonnie, so glad you enjoyed the film! It's so good! Dev Patel is so talented. I hope you and everyone else reading this and in the fandom enjoys this fic! 🫶(Please do and validate me, I'm scared it's TERRIBLE and I'm not happy with this, genuinely terrified lol) Comments, reblogs etc. are always more than appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy 🥰 Gif by @junkfoodcinemas Somewhat inspired by an old chat with the talented @mittos about how reader would probably hate seeing him fight, and tagging @lialilalo because I feel bad about ending up taking a week to get this out since your ask!

Sure, there were probably worse ways to spend a Friday night, but you also knew that there were definitely much better ways to spend a Friday night as well. But you simply weren’t the kind of person who did better things on a Friday night, that wasn’t in your DNA. Obviously. This was your brother's idea of fun after all. 

It didn’t surprise you that this was how your adult brother wanted to spend the start to his weekend and drag you along, or that this was a frequent pastime of his. It didn’t mean that it horrified you any less though. 

You’d sighed and dreaded this for hours, days probably, subconsciously. 

Yet, you still were here. You’d changed out of your work clothes for this, you’d tried to make yourself as presentable as possible when you knew it was an effort you’d see reflected in your brother. You were dreading leaving your home and having to blend into the sea of bloodthirsty betters you were about to find yourself in. 

You walk with your brother and one of his friends into the building, it’s large and crowded. Everyone is packed in like sardines as they yell about what odds they’re betting on, who’s the biggest and strongest, who’s the most nimble-footed and quickest, and who is the immediate runt of the competitors. You can already feel yourself becoming stressed, at this environment. You don’t understand the appeal of this but you understand how it can become a reality with the world that you’re all in. 

The heat stings your face like a slap, as you stand there, close to your brother so you don’t get split up in this sea and he rambles in your ear about who he placed a bet on, how they usually do. All of the information that seems so important in a moment like this to everyone else. But you’ve seen enough blood, you don’t need to be fascinated by people getting bloodied up like this. It’s a privilege that you’ve been able to avoid this your whole life. 

If you were seeing this at home, or if it wasn’t so packed in here tonight, you’d feel a little less self-conscious. And if you felt a little less self-conscious, you’d be chewing on your nails, all the way down to the nail bed. Until you felt the all too familiar sting of going too far. You give your hand a little shake to try and get rid of that urge, now’s not the place or time to wear your nerves on your sleeve. So instead, you try to offer up a small smile to your brother as he leads you to a spot on some benches nearby. 

The bench is relatively close to the ring, but it’s good, you’re already overstimulated and trying to make it up further to higher seats isn’t an idea that agrees with you right now, and it surely promises you a quick exit if needed. You look around, the dim lighting further adds to everything, your eyes scan the faces of those in the crowd and you look out at the ring. It’s big, you think, but you’re not sure if it’s a standard size or not for this sport. 

An announcer enters the ring, he looks sleazy and has a large, sly smirk pasted onto his face, one that makes you uncomfortable. You look at your brother to try and share a knowing glance but he’s focused on what’s in front of you both. You let out a quiet sigh as you tilt your head back to focus on what’s in front of you. 

The announcer opens his mouth and he speaks in a South African accent, that surprises you and you can’t help but look at your brother again. He announces himself as Tiger. This night is already so random, and you have a feeling that it’s only going to get more wild. 

“He’s the owner.” Your brother says as he tilts his head to whisper loudly in your ear. You can hear him over the whooping, clapping, and chants that have started. You nod as you look back at the ring, trying to pay attention to what you’re going to soon witness. Despite how overwhelming it all is. 

Tiger then introduces a fighter who’s dressed to almost look like a reptile, he’s introduced as King Kobra and gets a warm, adoring welcome from the audience with thunderous applause and cheers. You don’t clap as you can’t help but look around instead, taking it all in. It’s a lot and there’s so many people here, here just for this. 

Tiger then starts to introduce King Kobra’s opponent, his voice changes and it’s tinged with an antagonising disgust, he’s clearly trying to rile the audience up into booing, and not rooting for whoever it is. You can’t help but feel your curiosity grow at that. It feels childlike how it’s said, but you see the audience respond just as Tiger wishes. The opponent is Monkey Man, he quickly comes out and makes his way into the ring. He moves quickly and he bounces on his feet for a moment as he gets further into the zone. He stands there, waiting for the noise to confirm it’s the start, the start of a fight where he can maybe get one or two punches in before he has to keel over for his pay. Pay that he’ll probably have to bargain for. 

He stands in the ring and he can’t help but spend a second focusing on the face he sees in the front row. Kid is sure he hasn’t seen that face here before, it’s a pretty face, but he can’t help but notice the anxiety pooled in those eyes or your body language. He tilts his head slightly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of anxiety some of the gamblers here have before the match, the ones who are risking it all for an expensive thrill and painful rush, to live vicariously through him and the other men adorned in animal masks and names. 

Kid turns his head away from you and tries to focus back on his work. You don’t even notice that the man in the ring has been staring at you, taking you and your nerves in for a few, long but oh so short seconds.. How could you? With that mask? You can’t see his face, but you can see there’s a lanky figure standing there, hiding under the mask and donning the monkey man mantle. He’s tall and slender but you can see there’s some muscle on his arms, from what you can see of the sweat and blood-stained undershirt he wears, his chest is toned as well. 

You don’t know it yet, but you can feel something realign, change in this moment. You’re just not sure what it is, or if this feeling is even real, or if it’s just another symptom of somatic anxiety. Right now, you think it’s probably just that. 

After almost another minute of the crowd booing Monkey Man and chanting out for the King Kobra, the match begins. Each of the men takes a moment to size the other one up, watching the other’s moves before the first hit lands. It’s King Kobra, he strikes Monkey Man. 

King Kobra goes to throw another punch, he moves quickly and he’s very agile, yet Monkey Man somehow dodges this one. His landing with the dodge isn’t perfect, but it gets him out of the way. He throws a punch to King Kobra and the crowd erupts into boos at that. It’s even more louder and clearer than before who they’re all rooting for and aren’t. The crowd’s response seems to motivate King Kobra as he quickly moves and starts to deliver blow after blow. 

You barely feel the noise of the crowd’s screams of joy and cheers as this happens and King Kobra gets his footing back. Your eyes widen as you watch, you see blood starting to fall as Monkey Man loses his way in this match. 

You let out a gasp as he falls to the ground. King Kobra slithers around the ring, posing and feeding off of the crowd’s response before he goes in for the kill shot. He delivers it and you feel yourself slightly jump. It’s terrifying to you, you don’t see the appeal in this, you can only start to mentally list off all of the physical trauma this causes. You sigh as you watch King Kobra be declared the winner of this match, it sounds like a recurring event, you gaze over at your brother who looks ahead with a large smile of awe, obviously happy with whatever return he’s getting on the bets he’d made beforehand

Monkey Man slowly tries to limp his way out of the ring and backstage, you look at your brother and quickly whisper that you need to check on this man. You have to, it’s basically a moral and ethical obligation. Your brother sighs and nods, you quickly move off of the bench and it doesn’t take much for you to catch up to this masked man. “How are you feeling? I’m a nurse.” You say to him and he nods slowly, you can hear his ragged pants from under the mask, the mask is drenched in sweat along with the rest of his body.

As you slowly walk backstage with him to the locker room that’s pungent with the sweat of costumed men masquerading as animals and characters you’d find in The Ramayana. There’s blood stains visible throughout the floors and walls, and you can taste the copper of the crimson in the air, impossibly so. You don’t know how but you can. You ignore these other bodies floating in your periphery as you walk to a sink with the Monkey Man, he leads the way, naturally. 

As you approach the sink together he immediately puts his hands on the edge and spits out a thick string of blood, you’re used to seeing blood but in this context, you can’t help but feel your nose screw up a little. It’s awful.

He tilts his head to look up at you, your eyes meet him and you offer him a small smile and give him your name. He looks at you, taking in the way that your lips curl up and how they do so genuinely. He gives a small nod, one you’d have missed if you’d blinked just a few seconds earlier. He just tells you that his nickname is Kid. Maybe he’s been fighting since he was very young. You don’t ask. Not yet. 

You turn the faucet on at the sink, to try and wash his blood away so that you can start trying to clean the damage of tonight’s fight, off of him. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he knows you’re not the type of person to come to these events. You’re not a regular and it’s clear from your face, you’re not a fan of these displays of violence. 

“My brother. It’s his birthday this weekend.” You say quietly as you wipe the blood off. “Have you broken your nose?” He looks up at you with a small smile, it makes sense. Your brother was probably the man beside you, he thinks. Kid can’t quite remember his face. He then shrugs at your question. His nose doesn’t feel too bad right now, but he knows he’s probably broken it at some stage. 

“You’re not sure?” You ask him, he shakes his head. You immediately notice how quiet he is, but despite his silence, his eyes are so reactive and expressive that you feel like you know more than what his words could give you.

“Do you have issues breathing? It doesn’t look bad, there’s just a small scar there. They often heal pretty well on their own.” You say as if to reassure him, even though you know that it probably isn’t something that would bother him. There wouldn’t be much he could do now anyway about that. You don’t like that thought. 

Kid stays there perfectly still as your stomach is now over its nausea and your hand touches his skin so gently as you try to offer him some kindness, some respect, some dignity, some simple compassion and care. His eyes soften as he realises that and looks up at you. There’s a glow from within you, even in the artificial lighting of the locker room and it’s easy for him to block out the chaos in here and focus on your gentleness. 

He’s barely ever touched, except for when a blow hits in a match, it’s never this gently. He doesn’t even know how to show himself that level of care when he bandages himself up at the end of each night that he fights. 

There’s not much of a conversation as you bandage him up but somehow, you don’t really notice it and it’s completely okay with you. There’s a comfort in his quietness, his stillness. It’s one he finds in you as well, perfectly requited. You put a hand on his arm gently as you just finished putting a bandage on him. He takes your hand slowly, and he examines it. You’ve never had someone look at your hair, analysing every hair on your knuckles and by your wrist. It’s a unique way to be seen. He then takes your hand and gently turns it over, taking his time as he does. Kid looks at your palm, at all the lines on it and his eyes follow and travel amongst every single last one. A million lifetimes. A million dreams. He runs his finger along them, just to confirm as he thinks about the roots of your skin, how they run along to the softness and travel over calluses. “That’s your future.” He says softly as he looks at your hand, running his fingers along the lines. He then looks up at you, and his big, beautiful brown eyes meet your orbs. “It’s your past, everything.” You’re not sure what it is that he sees. You’d like to know but you also think you’d be content living without that and just his opinion on everything else in the world. But still, you want to see with his eyes.His fingers stop running over your palm and you feel your cheeks heat up at the intensity of this, his eyes have softened and there’s something else there. Something you don’t quite know. Is it longing? You’re not sure. You feel a deep, soul-aching longing, he does as well and always has. You just haven’t arrived at the stop yet for that to be communicated with words. Now all there is just looks, longing looks from a man with the most beautiful big, brown eyes in the world. You could melt in them, swim in them, drown in them. All of the above and you’d never complain.

You don’t know who makes the first move first, it just feels natural, like gravity. Some kind of natural force that slowly pulls your lips together that you both know is right. His hand gently cups your cheek as you feel his lips. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t mind. The kiss is soft and delicate and you like it. You need it and so does he. Everything feels so natural right now. Perhaps this is something he saw in the palm of your hand. You don’t know what it is yet, but you’re certain that this mask-wearing monkey man is part of that future he just talked about.

[bumblequinn]

on a more personal note: death grips were and are a pretty major source of inspiration for my own music. not in the sense of "i like this sound so i'm going to ape it," but in the sense of "oh i can get this weird with it if i really want to."

a decent chunk of the music in SLARPG would have been a lot more restrained and self-conscious if it weren't all the death gripses out there. sophie, knower, joanna wang, wednesday campanella, KKB, lemon demon... these artists and countless others helped to show me that it's okay and even extremely cool to get weird with it.

i'm reminded of this comment on one of my tracks in particular:

and look, part of me thinks this is more or less harmless, right? i even pinned it, because it made me chuckle. it's all in good fun! (seriously, don't go causing any trouble over a comment like this. i do not condone that kind of harassment.)

and yet - if i stop to think about it a second longer, i start to ask: what is this kind of joke really saying? "this sucks." "turn that shit off." and... i dunno, that feels bad, you know? i was bouncing in my seat grooving to that track when i was making it. i like what i made. that's why i made it.

every time i make music, i'm making something i want to hear but that doesn't exist yet. i'm incredibly, stupidly lucky that i get to do that, and that other people connect with it. but when the end result of that effort is a "joke" like "this is so weird omg, put something normal on," well...

even as a joke that's enough to make me second guess myself the next time i make music. it's enough to make me change the preview track for the album to something a bit tamer so i don't "scare off" first-time listeners. that feels like capitulating, and capitulating is the opposite of authentic self expression.

i have much, much weirder, more difficult and challenging ideas that i have yet to explore and put out there because i already feel like enough of a pariah just as a trans woman in the world.

i'd like to find the inner courage and esteem to create that art without softening its edges, trying to appease, or apologizing for myself. i think i'll get there. i'm already closer than i used to be. but seeing more people respect weird art, rather than quip about about its strangeness, would be a start. a girl can dream.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for possibly emasculating my husband?

My husband (27 M) and I (32 F) have recently gotten married and bought a house together. For context, we started dating three years ago, and I immediately fell in love with him. We met through a mutual acquaintance and he asked me out after twenty minutes of conversation. He was a perfect gentleman, incredibly intelligent, very handsome, funny, hardworking and kind. On our third date, when we began to get serious, he told me he was transgender – that he had been born female but transitioned to male in his early twenties. This came as a surprise but didn't really change anything. He was the perfect boyfriend and is currently a fantastic husband. He's not out to most people, but a few mutual friends know.

Since we bought a place together, we've both started jobs in the area. He has a very good full-time job at an office about twenty minutes away, and my job is part-time, about ten minutes away from home and five minutes from his office building. His office building has a fast food place next door where most employees get lunch.

Often, my husband forgets his homemade lunch, and I make sure to bring it to him during my lunch break, or after my shift ends. I take a lot of pride in my cooking, and I want to show off to him, so I like to bring him different kinds of meals, in what I've been told is kitchy and cutesy presentation (I write him a love note on the napkin, or make a heart out of vegetables, or fold a rose out of salami slices, etc.)

I take the elevator up to his office, hand him his lunch, give him a kiss, and then I'm off back to work. It's almost like a ritual of ours, and sometimes I find myself looking forward to him having forgotten his lunch. (Does that make me a bad person?)

A mutual friend of ours who works at my husband's office told me in private that I'm emasculating him by bringing him overly cutesy lunches and, her words, not mine, "fawning over him." She also knows about my husband's past, and is very educated and active in LGBT+ rights outside of work. I'm really not as educated, and I grew up in a conservative immigrant household and neighborhood where I hadn't even encountered anyone LGBT+ until I was in college. When she brought this up to me, it made me incredibly self-conscious, and worried that I wasn't validating my husband's masculinity. Recently, I didn't take him his lunch when he forgot it, and he asked me if I was mad at him when he got home. I assured him I wasn't, but now I'm worried.

I'm also worried to ask him what to do, because I don't want it to seem as though I'm treating him any differently because he happens to be transgender. It's never been an issue before, but now I'm thinking more deeply about our relationship and wondering whether I'm unconsciously emasculating him. I love my husband and don't want to hurt him, but I'm wondering whether I have already, by making him seem less masculine in front of his coworkers.

Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[another-lost-mc]

Omg hear me out

OlderStepBrother!Levi x YoungerStepSister reader

He's so protective over you, after all, nobody's good enough for his little sister except for him<3

a/n: oh, he'd be so creepy.

➤ older step-brother!levi | headcanons

1.4k words | nsfw | gn!reader | dark content

cw: step!cest. reader is late teens/early 20s and levi is mid-late 20s. modern au; implied cyber-stalking/surveillance; cursing; ambiguous ending.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who's completely uninterested in getting to know you. So what if your parents got hitched? It's not any of his business. He hasn't even met you yet, but the more he hears about you, the more annoyed he is for reasons he doesn’t understand. He doesn't care about what university you're going to, or what your grades are, or that you like "the same cartoons and games" he does. He's not going out of his way just to meet you. It's not even worth his time to look you up online. He couldn't care less.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who you only know vague details about before you meet him for the first time. You don't understand what he does exactly, only that he's good with computers and works freelance and somehow affords his own house in an expensive neighbourhood a few hours away. He might be older than you, but not that much older. Your stomach does somersaults when you think about meeting him because he's new and unfamiliar. Still, you’re cautiously optimistic that maybe if you get along, you can be friends.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who finally meets you when you go home for the first reading week of the semester. He ran out of excuses to avoid attending a pointless family gathering, and he's just desperate to get his old man off his back about being a recluse. He has his game plan ready: after playing nice for a couple of days, he'll go back home and pretend you don't exist.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who slowly realizes that maybe you have more in common than he realized. You're not some airhead or annoying social butterfly soaking in the riches of his father's fortune. You mumble your name and glance at him shyly from under your lashes and shuffle on the balls of your feet like you're too nervous to stand still. Levi feels self-conscious too because you point out the anime figure keychain dangling from his car keys and the cute vinyl stickers he decorated his car with. He assumes you're going to tease him, but you chatter on excitedly about how they're some of your favourite characters too. He hesitantly takes the second controller when you invite him to play games in your room, and you're mediocre at best. (It's still endearing when you cheer not because you won the race, but because you avoided driving off the rainbow track.) You might not be hardcore like him, but there's something almost cute about your enthusiasm. Why is your awkward laughter so contagious?

"Why did you choose this room?" he asked between races. Your bedroom isn't tiny by any means, but he knows his old room has nearly twice the amount of space. "I figured you would've cleared out my room, it's a lot bigger." You scratched the back of your neck and shrugged, eyes focused on the TV to avoid his scrutiny. "It didn't feel right going into your room and clearing out the rest of your belongings like that. It's still yours, even if you don't live here anymore." You tapped the gamepad and waited for him to select his character for the next match. "Want to keep playing?" He snapped his head away from your face and looked at the screen, choosing a character at random while he resisted the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. His cheeks burned hot. "Y-yeah, sure we can," he muttered nervously, cringing when his voice cracked.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with you. His plan to leave after a day or two at most is officially scrapped. How can he leave so soon when you still have ten episodes of the latest season to watch together? There's a bowl of popcorn on the couch between you and when it's empty, he jingles his keys and drives you both to a late-night boba tea shop. The old folks are in bed for the night—they won't even notice you're gone.

"C'mon, you haven't finished watching it yet? But the last season is the best one!" You rub your arm awkwardly in the passenger seat beside him. "I started watching it with my ex but we—well, we broke up on bad terms and I guess it reminds me of them when I try to watch it now." You miss the curious glance when you stare out the window and you don’t elaborate further. He can only imagine the worst even though it doesn’t make sense—you're cute and sweet and who the hell would be stupid enough to ruin something so good? Your shoulders shake and you breathe out a stuttered sigh, and something venomous hardens his expression into something cold, like steel. He’s tempted to ask for your ex's name but decides not to—he suspects it’ll be easy enough to find once he gets back on his computer. He clears his throat to break the awkward silence. "Well, if you wanna try watching it again, maybe we can re-watch the whole series together?" It only takes a second for the hand resting on the gear shift to squeeze your knee gently and return to where it was. He stares at the dark road ahead even though he knows you're looking at him now. "Don't let ungrateful assholes ruin good things for you. You’ve got me now, okay?”

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who is determined to keep in touch when that short week together comes to an end. He already has blank social media accounts he uses to follow his favourite game developers and anime blogs, but now he has a new reason to use them. Once you realize it's him, you accept all his friend requests without hesitation. He even creates accounts for apps he doesn't even use so that he can see all the photos and videos you upload to your private account. He scrutinizes all your old posts and takes screenshots of the photos of you that turn him on he likes most. You don't post a lot of selfies, but he sees glimpses of your daily life: the café near campus you like, your room in the house you rent with some other classmates. Sometimes you post things that remind you of him now too, and even though you don't mention him by name or tag him, he knows who you're thinking about.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who is surprisingly thoughtful. Sometimes he comments on your social media posts directly, but most of the time he texts you instead. You have disjointed conversations throughout the day and it becomes habit for both of you. He asks how school is going and how your roommates are treating you. You ask him about his job because you're still not sure what a freelance cybersecurity expert does. He gets flustered when you ask him if he's dating anyone and you don't bring up the subject again. Maybe he's just shy?

Player Two: ugh.

LEV14TH4N: what's wrong?

Player Two: are you sure i'm not bothering you? you must be so busy with work...

LEV14TH4N: pfft. you're not bothering me at all. i'd rather talk to you than these idiots i have to work with.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who claims he has more money than he knows what to do with when he starts sending you little gifts. He asks for a link to your online wish list and has everything delivered express: the latest manga volume he knows you're excited to read; a pre-order for a game that's coming out soon; your favourite snacks. He also sends you an expensive housecoat when you mention off-handedly that yours is getting a little threadbare and you need to buy a new one soon. It's from a high-end boutique you've never heard of but sounds expensive. The robe is made from the softest plush material and it's so warm; it's a bluey-purple colour that reminds you a bit of his eyes. All he asks for in return is a picture once you've tried it on—to make sure that it's the right size, of course.

LEV14TH4N: you look

LEV14TH4N: sorry. it looks nice on you. i'm glad you like it.

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who never seems to sleep. He offers to skim your assignments just before the midnight submission deadline. Later, he reminds you that it's no trouble at all—he was still awake so no need to feel bad! Sometimes when you can't sleep, you scroll through your social media feed and hope the boredom will cure your insomnia, until a familiar name pops up on your screen.

LEV14TH4N: you have class in a few hours, can't sleep?

(He jokes that he just had a feeling you were still up, and you're too sleepy and flattered by his concern to question him further.)

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who makes plans on weekends to come see you at school when he thinks you could use a break. He makes the drive to town—a couple hours away from where he lives—and you spend the day at the mall, or visiting your favourite lunch or dinner spots. You invite him inside to meet your roommates and he looks around your room curiously. You seem happy here, and he's glad.

(You seem happiest with him, and that makes him feel even better.)

Older Step-Brother!Levi, who can't wait to see you on your next school break.

LEV14TH4N: the old folks are going on vacation this winter.

LEV14TH4N: but you can stay here if you want. there's lots of room and it beats spending the holidays stuck on campus by yourself.

Player Two: really? you don't mind?

LEV14TH4N: of course not.

LEV14TH4N: i'm looking forward to it.

[starryylies]

Simon with reader who’s insecure about her acne

‘ve been insecure about mine lately so :(

Insecure! Reader, lots of self deprecation, angst If you squint, lots of comfort, Simon is the best :)

Me looking at girls with Me getting angry cuz Clear skin: (っ◞‸◟c). it’s not fair: -`д´-

“S not fair ‘S not fair ‘S not fair!!! I’m so tired why do I have to break out again, ‘ve been good and ‘m even taking the meds it’s not fairrrrrr.”

You were yelling at yourself while looking in the bathroom mirror. Having acne was such a pain in the ass.

Every girl around you was gorgeous with perfect skin and even the girls with acne looked so beautiful compared to you but no you didn’t, in your eyes you looked hideous..

you were so tired of the self-deprecation, you just wanted it to stop but your mind took control and you jus’ couldn’t help but let that faucet open leading to your eyes pooling with tears as they dropped down with the weight of your insecurity.

You were already drowning deep inside your own thoughts that you didn’t hear the bathroom door open with your boyfriend Simon riley stepping in with a look of worry and urgency on his face.

Looking at you crying ripped his heart to shreds, he quickly made his way closer to you.

“Love please talk to me what’s happened?”

he is in a panicked state trying to figure out what made you so upset, he cant bear to see you in such a sad state.

“Baby stop crying please”, he pulls you closer wrapping you in his big burly arms as his body heat transfers to you giving you a sense of comfort that nobody can provide better than him.

“Ssi m I ugly? ‘Cuz I feel so icky and gross I hate it I hate it I hate my skin. I fucking hate it I wanna rip it off ‘m feeling so fucking shitty”, you cry out in arms.

Simon is taken aback by your statement, does he not make you feel like the most beautiful woman alive? Why’d you think you’re ugly? Youre the most attractive woman he’s laid eyes on.

Simon wraps you closer now using his left hand to tilt your chin up gently so he can have a good look at you.

“Si don’t!”

You protest trying to stop him from looking at your face, you feel so ashamed and conscious by letting him see you in such a vulnerable and sorry state

plus you don’t want him to see the reddish bumps protruding out on your skin.

“m not letting you hide your beautiful face from me love he mutters.”

“How could ya even think that. Youre the most beautiful fuckin’ woman alive in this entire fuckin planet, How could you think of ‘nythin less than that for yourself.”

“But my damn acne, it’s so gross, how d’you still like me.. ‘m not pretty”

Simon gives out a scoff in disbelief, “ya think acne will make me find you any less beautiful? Is that what ya think of me? Love your acne doesn’t matter.”

“No woman compares to you love how can you fuckin’ say that, you’re the most stunnin’ girl I know love he says in a hushed tone with his right hand rubbing your back.”

“Fuckin’ hell I get it all the time too and you still like me all the same ‘ight?”

You sniffle out, “ofcourse si but it’s different-“

Simon cuts you off, “No it’s not, you’re just thinkin’ a lot with that pretty lil’ head of yours love.”

“Love, stop thinkin’ so much, ‘m not finding ya any less beautiful just because of some stupid pimples” he gruffs out.

“Thank you si, thank you for sayin that”, you whisper out.

“I love you si” you mutter under your breath clinging closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Simon pulls your head closer to his chest,

“nytime and love ya more sweetheart.”

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊

(Ps: And sorry if this fic came out bad it’s my first time writing a whole thing, I’m sorry and it was rushed since I wrote it while crying.)

[taxidermycanine]

Hey not sure if this is the right place to ask this but I'm looking for whoever might be able to offer advice. My wife just told me she's therian today (wolf). I'm completely supportive of it of course. As another wolf therian, do you have any suggestions for things I could do to help her feel more comfortable or support her better?

(Anon ask to protect her privacy because she's self conscious about it)

hi! this is absolutely the right place to ask, welcome :o)

this is very sweet of you to do, and i'm sure your wife appreciates you looking more into therianthropy so you can understand her better!

i hope you enjoy this post, and thank you again for this ask! the tips are under the cut

species affirming 101: wolves and other canids

hello there! struggling to figure out ways to affirm your therianthropy because you don't know where to start? or maybe you're someone who knows a critter personally and want to learn how to make them more comfortable around you? then sit down and get comfortable because this is species affirming 101 (with me, the dog).

before we go into it, please note:

not all of these things are for everyone, and that's okay! do what feels right for you.

i will try my best to provide alternatives for any food recommendations for those of you with dietary needs, but apologize in advance if i fail to do so.

that the most important thing to affirm your species is through taking good care of yourself and spending some time outside to ground yourself. sometimes these things take time, they'll come to you eventually.

with that in mind, let's begin with the first tip!

NUMBER ONE: clothing

whether you have shorter or longer fur, this point can help you either way! the human body doesn't grow nearly enough hair to feel comfortable sometimes, which is why i wear clothes that are fuzzy, warm, and the same color as my fur. this is especially helpful in the colder months.

as for the warmer months, i recommend purchasing things such as tail keychains, trimming your nails into claws, drawing paws on your shoes. even meditating in a wooded area can help somewhat (at least in my own experience).

NUMBER TWO: snacks

usually when people think of species affirming snacks their mind immediately goes to something like jerky, and whilst that can help a few folk, in my opinion it's much too gritty for me to enjoy comfortably. i prefer eating slim jims for the saltiness and fall-apart texture. if you can't eat meat for whatever reason, i recommend experimenting with different types of mushrooms. a popular choice for meat imitation is the lions mane mushroom. when cooked a certain way, it's crunchy, filling and has a tender texture.

NUMBER THREE: ambiance

something as simple as putting on a video of nature sounds can make you feel more at home. i recommend mixing this with den making (making your bed feel more like a den by adding lots of blankets, going under them to sleep for coverage, maybe a chair or two to keep the entrance visable. i find having some sort of floor mattress works best for this sort of thing)

NUMBER FOUR: comforts

stuffed animals of your theriotype are always a nice way to feel less lonely, especially if you feel like you're meant to have young. acting like they're your pack, your litter, or simply just your belongings can provide heavy comfort during times of feeling isolated.

if you feel like you shouldn't have stuffed animals because you aren't a domestic breed, you shouldn't worry about that. One, you can do whatever you want forerver. Two, there have been many cases of animals finding things like stuffed animals and playing with them, look at this guy!

NUMBER FIVE: socializing

as canines are social animals, it's important for you to spend time with others, therian or non-therian. if you have human friends, or a human partner, great! if they're comfortable with it, you can have them pet you if you'd like. maybe ask to go on a walk with them for a more discreet option.

i'd also recommend making friends who are also therian so you have others to relate to. it's important to realize that you are not alone in this, and there are so many who feel the way you do right now. if you make some irl, go to the forest together! play in the river! if you're stuck to being online friends for however long, make moodboards! play online games where you can be an animal together! roleplay if that's more your speed! there's plenty to do with loved ones.

for now, that's all i can think of. for the anon though here's a little more just for you, i wish you and your partner the best.

be there for her, tell her that her being a therian doesn't make you love her any less and that you find her therianthropy beautiful. ask her about what she'd like you to do to help with species dysphoria, if she has any. research about her theriotype with her to show her that you care about it. as another wolf therian myself, the thing that helped me the most is having my own partner be there for me. canines are social animals, be social with her.

my love to you both,

bandit

[savannahsdeath]

heyyy could u write something where like reader is about to shower but starts to get really insecure and kinda has a breakdown, BUT ellie reassures her. (pls also give reader stretch marks bc i've been so insecure abt mine lately and i have them literally everywhere. thighs, hips, even on my boobs lol) <3

ELLIE WILLIAMS X INSECURE!READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! but tbh its minors safe this time i think ??

writers note: just a reminder youre all beautiful no matter what!! beauty standards or wtv was it called are something we shouldnt base our life on but we sadly do. self love is the key to happiness and dont let other people ruin it!!🩷🩷and to our lovely anon, you dont need to worry about stretch marks. trust me, most of people dont even pay attention to them! its nothing 'special in a bad way'. i lately got some too, right before my holidays and theyre sooo visible through my summer clothes but its something you can get used to be comfortable with. please, anon, dont think less of yourself because of them nor any other insecurities. and this comes to everyone!!💞

it was already late so you were getting ready to take a shower to not waste any more time. you put your clothes on a nearby shelf. you stood in front of the mirror in your underwear only, looking for anything that could be possibly pointed out, like you didn't have enough insecurities already. feeling rather self-conscious, you were examining your reflection for any flaws or imperfections. every detail of your body was being inspected up-close, from the lines on your stomach, to the size of your thighs, to the shape of your shoulders and face. your eyes were scanning every inch of you, seeking any signs of something you could hate, even if others wouldn't notice them. you couldn't help but wonder if the things you were stressing over were even worth worrying about, or if you were just creating problems where they didn't exist.

either way, you couldn't help but hate them. and since you mostly focused on bad things and you didn't see your advantages - you hated yourself. in your eyes your whole body could change. or even should change.

the more you stared at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every little thing, the more you hated what you saw. it felt like nothing was good enough, like every little imperfection needed to be changed or worked on. you felt like you could never measure up to this impossible standard, like your entire body was inadequate. the insecurities were eating away at you, gnawing away until any confidence or self-love you might've had was gone.

that was the moment your eyes beginned to get glossy. you didn't cry though, oh, no. you hated the way you look when you cry, just like everything else, so you tried your best to hold back tears. the floodgates were beginning to open, but you held them back with everything you had. you despised the way you looked when you cried: the tears down your cheeks, your puffy eyes, all those disgusting, revolting imperfections. as much as you hated your flaws, you despised your crying face even more. you would never let anyone see you like that, never.

suddenly, your girlfriend and roommate in one, knocked on the door. "everything okay in there?"

she must notice you're taking your time instead of simply taking a shower already.

you stayed silent, knowing if you try to open your mouth you couldn't control what comes from them. you'd probably break down and the thick door won't be enough to mute your pathetic sobs.

you didn't want to answer, but then again, you knew if you stayed quiet, your girlfriend would eventually come in and check on you. you had to keep yourself together. you couldn't fall apart right in front of her like that.

you let out a shaky breath and replied, "yeah, everything's fine." you could feel your voice cracking with each word, but you were determined not to let her see you in such a sorry state.

what if she sees me the way i see myself?

your girlfriend wasn't fooled by your shaky reply. even if you denied it, she knew something was wrong. she heard the emotion in your voice and could sense the struggle to keep yourself together. without another word, she opened the door and walked in.

"what's wrong, pretty girl?" she asked when she didn't saw your glossy eyes yet.

you, on the other hand, couldn't control yourself anymore. the nickname 'pretty girl' hit you instantly, thinking you're anything but pretty.

pretty.

girl.

those two words hit you harder than a punch to the gut, evoking a strong reaction that you tried to mask. you took a deep breath to steady your voice so that you didn't break, but it was impossible to sound completely calm when you felt so much pain just from those two words.

"nothing." you muttered quietly, but your voice sounded more like a choke than a word.

she hugged you from behind, looking in the same, unlucky mirror. her hands softly touched the scretch marks on your hips as she hold onto them, gently rocking you back and forth.

you wanted nothing more than to reject this hug and flee from your own reflection in the mirror, but you were too weak to pull away.

"nothing?" she asked gently, planting little kisses from your neck to shoulders.

you felt a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over you as your girlfriend's touch revealed the marks on your hips. she immediately spotted them and caressed them with her soft hands.

it all felt too much. you were fighting so hard to hold yourself together, but when she touched you, it all came crashing down. the tears finally escaped and you began to sob, clinging onto her tightly as you broke down. "no... not nothing..."

she held you close, feeling your warmth as her arms wrapped around you and her hands comforted your pain. she rubbed your back and kissed your neck as she tried to soothe you. "shh, come here, it's okay..." she whispered gently.

she led you over to the bed and laid you down. she carefully took off her shirt, leaving on only her bra and boxers, then laid down with you, hugging you tightly. she kissed your neck, your face, brushed your hair back, caressed your body, your stretch marks, your insecurities (at least the ones she knew about), anything to try and comfort you. she whispered words of reassurance and love as she tried to fill you with the affection you felt you lacked. "i love you, my pretty girl... i love you." she repeated those words again and again, hoping you'd believe that someone could love you, and that someone was her.

ellie continued to hold you tightly as you cried into her. your tears soaked into her bra, but she didn't mind; you'd done that many times before. she rubbed your back in soothing circles as she let you let it all out, and she made small shushing noises in your ear. your sobs turned into whimpers and then into a soft murmur, and as your emotions died down, she gently wiped away the tears, replacing them with kisses.

as she noticed you calmed down she slightly pulled away to get a better look at you. "can you tell me what's wrong now?"

"i... it's just..." you started, and your voice broke as you tried to find the words. your girlfriend gave you her undivided attention, focusing on you and only you. "i- i don't feel pretty... i don't feel good enough... i don't feel... enough."

with her eyes looking deep into yours, you couldn't help but be vulnerable as you opened up to her. your insecurities and flaws, the things you tried so hard to hide, were all laid bare in front of her now.

a pang of guilt hit you in that moment.

what am i doing?

ellie was so sweet and loving, and you felt like you were just taking advantage of her kindness. like you're just an attention seeker.

but before you could say anything, she pressed a finger to your lips.

"no. shut your mouth." she said sternly, and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "that's not true. i don't wanna hear it, not another word." she leaned in and pressed her soft lips to yours.

you found yourself sitting on her lap, as she stroked your hair, whispering something or kissing you from time to time. you told her all about it, about what and how you feel. and she listened.

you were so lost in your emotional story you didn't even notice the way she slowly took off her rings - one by one, and placed them on a bedside shelf.