#but this guy goes so out of his way to be entertaining and engage with both the game and viewer

[coffinsister]

I have such a deep appreciation for content creators who actually go out of their way to be entraining and give good content to their audiences

[mavrintarou]

[3:19 PM] - Suna Rintarou

Gotta head out - be back later to edit... or not. Enjoy!

Warning: smut . Aside from volleyball, Rintarou was naturally gifted with the camera.

He had captured some of the most exquisite and breathtaking photographs of Y/n, making it look like they were professional shots.

He also possessed a collection of the most embarrassing shots, which he kept strictly to himself. There were also a few special ones that were meant for his eyes only, capturing intimate moments between them.

He was a very active Instagramer – posting quite frequently for his million followers, but he kept his relationship out of public eyes.

When Rintarou created a TikTok account, his followers grew by the day.

He would capture a wide range of videos, from documenting his volleyball training sessions and games to showcasing the delicious lunches Y/n packed for him. He even recorded moments of making his coffee, creating a collection of glimpses into his daily life.

Each time he makes a video, Y/n gets a notification, and she entertains herself with them.

“My baby made me some Korean food today,” he sniffs his bento, groaning. “I told her I’ve been craving some Korean food, and… she loves me so much.” He stuffs his mouth with a Kimbap. “You guys ask if she makes me lunch every day – yes. Does she not work or… is she a stay-at-home partner?” He shoves another Kimbap into his mouth. “She’s definitely an independent woman who earns her own money and won’t allow me to support her like the best boyfriend I am…” he narrows his eyes directly at the camera, “she always watches my videos, so – please tell her that it she needs to let me treat her like a queen.”

Y/n burst out laughing and clicked on the comments.

Suna’s girlfriend, please allow Rintarou to treat you like a queen!

Can we get a glimpse of her?

She is so lucky!

You’re so lucky; your food looks so good!

Y/n narrows her eyes at the first comment.

You’re so hot, Rin; please fuck me!

Y/n clicked on the person’s profile of a young woman.

Curiosity got Y/n going through Rin’s other videos to view the comments. She saw the same account commenting on every one of Rin’s videos, saying something inappropriate.

.

Rin checked his phone as he slipped his shirt on.

He was still waiting for a message from Y/n.

Though it wasn’t unusual, it felt odd that she didn’t text or react to his video.

She always commented or reacted to his video.

Did she not see it?

But it clearly said Read 2:35 PM underneath the message.

Without wasting another moment, he made his way toward their apartment, a sense of urgency guiding his steps. Sitting behind the wheel, waiting at a red light, he drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. The unsettling feeling gnawed at him, the sense that something was amiss between them weighing heavily on his mind.

While they didn’t frequently engage in conflicts, he made a conscious effort to minimize arguments, fully aware that disagreements are a natural part of any relationship. Over the course of their four-year journey together, they encountered only a few instances where tension escalated. However, despite needing some time to cool off, they always found a way to come together and discuss their concerns. They were committed to understanding each other’s perspective and exploring ways to grow and improve for the sake of their relationship.

And have hot makeup sex.

Rintarou jams the button to his floor in the elevator impatiently. Of all days, it seemed like the elevator door was being an asshole and taking its merry time to get him up to his floor.

“Y/n!” He shouts once he enters his apartment.

“Yes?” her sweet voice calls from the kitchen.

She doesn’t sound upset or mad, he thought. He quickly toes off his shoes and drops his gym bag in the living room to head to the kitchen. His heart relaxes a bit, finding her in the kitchen preparing dinner.

But he was still a little nervous and wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t upset.

He goes to wrap his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek and resting his chin on her shoulder. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she answered, “you?”

“Tired,” he answered as usual, “but a little… nervous.”

She finished whatever she was doing before washing her hands, the both of them doing a funny dance towards the sink because once Rin clings on to Y/n, it is no use trying to get him off.

“Go wash your hands and sit down; let’s eat.” She hears his sigh before he lets her go, and she watches over her shoulder as he pouts towards the sink to wash his hands and takes a seat in his usual spot.

Y/n leans against the counter, watching him zone out sitting there. Rintarou may be hard to read on the court, but Y/n could read him anytime.

Something weighed heavily on him, and his emotions spilled out much like a toddler’s when they couldn’t express their feelings.

He doesn’t realize Y/n has yet to set the table, “why are you nervous?”

He gazed up at her with a lost expression, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t react to my video,” he murmured, seeking an answer with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Y/n arched an eyebrow at him, suppressing a chuckle. “What?”

“You didn’t react to my video today… did you not watch it?” he inquired with a  tinge of concern. “Did I say too much in the video about you?” The renowned and notorious Middle Blocker for EJP Raijin resembled an anxious child, desperately seeking reassurance if he had done the right thing.

Y/n furrowed her brows, a realization dawning upon her as she acknowledged her lack of response to his video. “Oh, Rin,” she chuckled softly, moving closer and straddling his lap. Tenderly cupping his face, she pressed her lips against his pout, kissing it away. “I did watch it, but I must have gotten carried away reading the comments,” she explained, her tone apologetic. Her eyes narrowed as she mentioned one particular fan. “There was this one fan who was quite vulgar towards you,” she continued, her voice hinting disapproval. “I didn’t like it one bit.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes, anticipating his reaction. “Are you… jealous?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice.

There it is.

“No, I’m not. I don’t need to be jealous when I already have you.”

Rin kisses her throat and nips the skin there. “You’re right; I’m yours, all yours, just as you’re mine, right?”

“Hmm,” Y/n runs her fingers through his hair before gripping a fist full and tilting his head back. “All mine.”

His eyes widen for a split second before they squeeze shut when Y/n trails her tongue along his jaw and down his neck. She was not one to mark him in prominent areas, but tonight, she showed no mercy to his neck.

“Y/n…” Rin groans ten minutes later. His hands grip her hips, desperately guiding her to rock herself over his lap. “’nough…”

She pulls back and admires her work; now she knows how Rin feels. She leans to peck his lips and lifts herself, “all right, let’s eat!”

“What!” His grip on her hips tightens, “no way, you can’t leave me like that.” He looks down at his crotch; the outlining of his thick cock is visible against his joggers.

“But… our food will get cold?”

Rintarou chuckles, “no way, baby, food can wait… not me.”

Y/n squeal when he pushes her onto the table, grabs the end of her yoga pants, and tugs them off in one go. He pulls her panties aside and pulls cock out enough to slowly thrust into her pussy.

“Ah… Rin,” she moans, gripping the edge of the table. “Fuck… yes…”

His thrusts are slow and deep. “You had me worrying for no reason…” he leans over and grips her jaw to kiss her deeply, “I’ll show them – “ he speeds up his thrusts, “I’ll show them I’m yours… only yours….”

All the rubbing and rocking over him stimulated her, and Y/n was close until Rin pulled out of her. “Rin?”

He maneuvers her onto her front side and smacks her ass before getting down on one knee. He pulls her panties off and smothers his face into her core, slurping, sucking, and biting.

“Rin!”

He squeezes her cheeks hard, taking a bite on each side before standing back up, “need to mark you as mine too…” he guides his cock back home and thrusts fast and hard.

Their kitchen echoes with skin slapping skin and the kitchen table squeaking.

“I’m so… I’m so close baby…” Rin groans, and seconds later, hips jerking and cock spasming as he cums inside.

Rin withdraws; his eyes are fixated and anticipating as his cum drips out.

A minute later, after catching each other’s breath, Rin whispered, “baby?”

Y/n turns to look over her shoulders, clearly in bliss. “Yes?”

“Bed?”

“Yes, please…”

.

“Today, my baby packed me my favorite… jelly fruit sticks!”

Y/n sipped her morning coffee and tapped the heart on the video before clicking on the comment button.

Those are my favorites too!

You’re like an excited schoolboy about their lunches!

Is no one going to talk about it?...

Suna-san… what are those marks on your neck?

Are those… hickies?

Those are definitely hickies… wow… his girlfriend is kinky…

. . .

@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol

[rosequarzo]

that boy is mine.

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! alhaitham + reader reader is female established relationship modern + college au ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 1064— catalogue

note. listening to that boy is mine gave me an idea so, here you go. this is so messy i hate this... i might delete but we'll see... tagging @rninies

There is no doubt that Alhaitham is popular. Incredibly popular, in fact but not that you could blame them. Who wouldn’t fall victim to his handsome, stoic and quiet personality? It goes without saying that he has gathered a concerning figure of fans. Heck, there was even a fanclub made just for him. Dating the famous guy on campus proved to be a difficult task for you, since you have to restrain yourself from jumping on them whenever they looked at your boyfriend with a dreamy expression. 

No one knew that you were dating, no one other than your circle of friends of course. It was thanks to Kaveh barging into his roommate’s room without knocking the door, only to stumble upon the sight of Alhaitham hovering over you on the bed and the rest was history. Although, you were glad that your peers have known about your relationship, as it proves to be a difficult task trying to keep it low. 

“Hey, look. She’s trying again,” Cyno nudges you with his elbow, pointing ahead of him and you follow his direction with your eyes. 

The sight before you greets you with distaste and faint jealousy. It was none other than the newly-transferred student, approaching your boyfriend and attempting to engage him in a conversation. Keyword: attempting. Everyone knew how Alhaitham was; ignoring the public but when it comes to you, his focus was entirely on you; like you were the only one that matters to him. Kaveh sniggered; amused with how Alhaitham was ignoring the student, focused on reading his book. 

“Don’t you get tired of people chasing after your boyfriend?” Kaveh asked, reaching out to steal your fries, only to flinch when you slapped his hand away. 

“No, not really. In fact, I found it funny and chose to watch for my entertainment,” you shrugged your shoulders, focused on observing the scene unfold itself from the sidelines. 

None of you could hear what the student was saying, due to the distance between the two of you but you could tell she was starting to become irritated, judging from the way she furrowed her eyebrows and her lips curling downwards. The next thing you knew, she had the audacity to pull him back when Alhaitham was about to leave. The mere sight of their hands touching made you see red. You shot up from your seat, startling your friends and they watched, dumbfounded as you stormed your way towards them. 

“Uh, do you think we should stop (Name)?” Kaveh asked, getting worried about what’s about to happen. 

“Nah, this is going to be good,” Cyno shook his head, pulling out his phone and getting ready to record the chaos. Tighnari merely lets out an exasperated sigh, feeling a headache forming. 

“...think you are doing? Let me go,” Alhaitham’s annoyed voice rung through your ears as you got closer to them. 

The student huffs, standing her ground and meets his eyes with a defiant gaze in them. “Look, why are you not interested in me? I can be anything you want and besides, there’s no harm in giving us a try.” 

Alhaitham scowls, eyes narrowing. “I’m afraid you’re misunderstanding something. There is no us.” 

“But-” 

“Hey, do you mind letting him go?” You interrupted, standing behind the girl and flashed her a closed-eye smile; a smile that was anything but friendly. 

You saw how your boyfriend’s eyes widened slightly, surprised to see you but you ignored him, focused on getting rid of the unwanted presence standing between the two of you. The student fully turned, eyeing you up and down with disgust written all over her face. 

“And who are you supposed to be? We’re having a conversation here,” she asked. 

You arched an eyebrow. “I’m his girlfriend, you dumb bitch. Don’t make me repeat myself: let him go.” 

It seems like she was more stubborn than you thought, for she didn't believe your words and laughed. “You’re his girlfriend? Yeah right, like I believe that.” 

Humming, you walked around her to stand beside Alhaitham. You could see how your friends were looking at you from the corner of your eyes. At this point, everyone nearby was looking at you and why not put on a little show for them? Without warning, you grabbed your boyfriend by the collar of his shirt, harshly tugging him down and kissed him fully on the lips. Your abrupt action elicited a high-pitched scream from Kaveh and a round of startled sounds from the public. If you listened closely, you could make out the faint cheering sound from Cyno. 

The kiss ended as fast as it happened, much to Alhaitham’s disappointment. When you pulled away, you were greeted with the satisfying sight of the student staring at you, rendered speechless. Her eyes were wide open to the point they might have popped out from its sockets. You smiled and shot her an arrogant grin.

“Well? Does that answer your question?” You taunt. 

Utterly humiliated in front of everyone, she had no choice but to flee the scene. The nearby people soon went back to minding their business once the drama had ended, and the two of you returned to where your friends were. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you had that in you. Not bad,” Kaveh gave you a thumbs-up before turning to his roommate who sat down beside you. 

“So Alhaitham, how does it feel now that your relationship is exposed?” He asked. 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” he retorted, his hand moving to rest on your thigh underneath the table; hidden from everyone’s eyes. 

“Tch, you and that shitty personality of yours,” the blond grumbled, making you laugh. 

“All’s well that ends well. Hopefully no one will dare to confess to you anymore,” you pointed out and your words made a faint smirk form on Alhaitham’s handsome face. 

“Don’t tell me you were jealous,” he taunts, faint mischief glimmered in his eyes. 

“I was not,” you defended yourself, hating how he had turned the tables on you. 

“Uh huh, whatever you say love,” he nods his head, obviously not buying your lie. 

The sudden pet name used made your cheeks flushed red followed by Kaveh making disgusted sounds in front of the two of you. “Ew, you two should get a room.” 

“We did but due to a certain someone, our time-”

“Alhaitham!” 

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

frankie is a long time friend of a friend/runs in the same circles as you, and you both have a hate boner for one another. it all comes to a head bc he's the only one in the group chat who answers your call for aid when your [insert some busted appliance/plumbing fixture] and you're going to either fight, fuck or fumble this night.

WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE.

You ask, ye shall recieve. Thank you "nonnie" ;)

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Angst, alcohol consumption, drug addiction, coke addiction, Frankie being mean/an asshole, Whiny Frankie Supremacy, weed smoking (medicinal), Ken Burns?, Country Music?, pining, angst, M!Masturbation, sub!Frankie.

Thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta-ing this real quick. Word count: 2.3k  

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

Frankie pops his first beer of the night as he starts the next episode of the Ken Burns ‘Country Music’ documentary. He started it out of sheer lack of something better to do a few nights back, but now he’s hooked. He’s ready to settle in for the night, rolling a joint as a new message in the group chat comes in.

He checks it, only to see its you.

He locks his phone and turns it over; no way is he entertaining your bullshit tonight.

~*~

You sit there for what seems like forever, not a soul answering your cry for help in the group chat. You know it’s Friday night, you know everyone is likely to have plans, but the way water has flooded your kitchen is no joke.

So much for the joys of home ownership.

You lament as you wish there was a super contractually obliged to fix this mess. But it’s a week away from your next paycheque and you cannot afford to call in an emergency plumber. You’re about to give in and get your credit card out when a message comes through.

~*~

The credits roll at the end of the documentary and Frankie hums in approval, he realises he’s barely touched his beer, and his joint is similarly untouched, long gone out. He’s ready to put the next episode on and re-light as his modest buzz settles him into the recliner. Since quitting coke he’s found weed to be a welcome mellow fix that never tempts him too far but lets him mute the cravings otherwise. It has meant he’s gained a few pounds from all the munchies, but he takes that as a win. He was getting too skinny and working out is near impossible when so under-fuelled.

Absently he checks his phone again and his stomach drops.

No-one has answered your call for help, it’s been almost two hours. He shouldn’t care, the two of you butt heads on everything, you’re the Lex Luthor to his Superman. He hates you, at least, that’s what he tells himself. You challenge him in a way the other guys don’t. You don’t take his bullshit.

He swipes the message across to reveal the “Seen” tab, and his stomach drops. Everyone in the group chat has seen it, Alyssa, Barry, Benny, Santi, Will… the list goes on. There’s a pang of guilt in his gut as he realises just how desperate you must be right now.

He grumbles as he turns off the TV and snaps his lighter shut, putting his ashtray and joint aside. He’ll be damned if he leaves you hanging like this, no matter how much he claims to hate you.

~*~

You pace your hallway, waiting for the bane of your existence to arrive. You’re trying to put on a brave face, trying to ignore the coil in your gut. You play it off as anxiety, but you know it’s more than that.

You’re nervous because as much as you try and hate Frankie, he always gets under your skin. You’re always left wondering what his scruff would feel like on your skin, grazing your jaw, your neck. You hate Francisco Morales, but only as much as you secretly find him hotter than the sun.

He’s not a bad guy, you know he’s struggled with addiction, you know he and the guys saw some shit in the military. But there’s a rudeness reserved only for you when it came to social gatherings and interactions in the group chat.

You’d initially put it down to you being a new addition to the group – by way of Santi – after you two hit it off at a quiz night last year. But in that year, he has only seemed to close you off more and more. You’re almost at the point of looking for a new group of friends, if you’re completely honest with yourself. And you resent him for it.

You’re jolted from your thoughts as a fist pounding on your front door signals his arrival.

I have a doorbell asshole.

You grumble inwardly, but you tell yourself to play nice, Frankie’s doing you a favour here.

“Coming!”

You pause at the door, not wanting to seem too eager as you feel a nervous flutter in your stomach. You take a deep breath and swing it open to reveal Frankie in all his glory. Your chest constricts as you feel the inevitable bloom of desire in your core.

He’s wearing a floral pink and white Hawaiian shirt with a dark tank underneath that stretches across his soft belly. His sinful calves are on display under his tan cargo shorts and you try not to ogle him further as you welcome him into your home.

“Hey, thanks for doing this,” you start as he steps over the threshold, eyeing up your house with a methodical gaze, “Look, I know we’re not-,”

“Don’t worry about it, just show me where the sink is.”

He cuts you off, not looking at you as he speaks, and you bristle at his tone. It’s like he’s speaking down to a child, scolding you no less.

“This way,” you snap as you lead him into the kitchen and gesture at the sink, the cabinets below open ready for him. You feel his gaze on you. It makes you squirm, but you do your best to ignore the pooling of arousal in your panties.  

“You turn the water off?” Frankie asks as he notices the multiple bath towels on the floor, sodden in your failed attempt to try and dry the place out. You’re just glad the kitchen is tiled.

“Yup.”

“Good,” he says almost to himself as he strips off his shirt, throwing it onto a countertop before getting on his knees. You prop yourself against the counter and wait, trying very hard not to stare as he gets on his back. He bends his knees to brace himself as he grabs the adjustable wrench that you’d been battling the U-bend with for the last hour. You try not to imagine how he’d look similarly stretched out on your sheets upstairs.

“Ok so good news, it’s not the U-bend,” Frankie says with a huff as he pops the entire faucet unit up and out of the basin, he rolls up onto his feet. You’re a little annoyed that he was able to determine the issue in minutes after you had spent over an hour googling and trying to fix it yourself.

“Oh?”

You are genuinely curious, so you push off from the counter to see what Frankie’s doing. He holds up the underside of the faucet, showing you a broken rubber ring sat at the neck of the mechanism. His shoulder brushes yours and you feel the fizzle of heat under your skin. Your heart flutters and you think he’s going to move away at the contact, but he seems only to lean in further.

He smells good. A faint hint of weed, which you know he has a prescription for, and his cologne, earthy and rich. It blends together into a smell you know by heart, something so uniquely Frankie, it makes you salivate. You hate how much you want a man who seemingly thinks so little of you.

“This happened to me last month,” he explains as he brings the offending washer into your eyeline, “Damn contractors used cheap fittings so they’re all going, Santi’s went last week.”

“So, I need a new tap? It’s that simple?” You groan in frustration, you’d been ready to spend hundreds of dollars to get this fixed, and here’s Frankie swooping in to save the day.

“Yup, but you’re not likely to get anything now,” Frankie looks at his phone, it’s way too late to be getting something decent. His eyes flick up to meet yours and you see his pupils dilate. There’s something in his deep, sinfully dark eyes that makes you wonder if you’ve been wrong about his feelings towards you all this time. But you avert your gaze, you’re probably just reading into things too heavily.

“Yeah, shit,” you sigh, “At least I’ve got bottled water, so I won’t die of thirst.”

“I can come by tomorrow to pick up and fit a new one if you want?”

The offer is out of Frankie’s mouth before he can stop it, his good nature tumbling out in an unusual display of kindness towards you. You furrow your brow, shocked by the sudden good will from him. It makes you nervous.

“Why’re you being nice to me all of a sudden?” You scoff, something about Frankie being so cold to you for the last year, only to play nice when you’re in distress makes your stomach turn. Like he’s trying to take advantage – or worse – pitying you.

“You needed help and no-one else was responding so I thought it was the right thing to do.”

He grumbles bitterly as he turns his back to you grabbing his shirt from the counter and hastily pulling it on as he turns to leave.

“You could have just left me hanging,” you snap, “What’s different today? Is it so you can lord this over me? Saving the poor little damsel in distress, another tool with which you can ridicule me with?”

“Ridicule you?” Frankie snaps, turning to face you, his face pained as if you’d struck him with a physical blow.

“Don’t play dumb,” you growl as you square up to him, “I hear the snide comments you make about me when we’re out with the others. Desperate this, lonely that.”

Frankie winces, he remembers exactly what you’re talking about now. That night months ago at a club in Orlando. You were dancing with someone you’d met at the bar, and he’d gotten jealous. He brushed it off to Will and Alyssa, going on the offensive instead of letting slip that he’d have done anything for it to be him you were grinding against. He just didn’t know you’d heard him as you went to get another drink.

“That was one time,” he growls but it’s a weak rebuttal and he knows it, “I was in a bad place.”

You know that; you know he was only a few months sober. He wasn’t in a good place when he first met you. But that’s no excuse to continue to treat you like he has ever since.

“Sure, but ever since you’ve looked at me like I don’t belong,” you hold his gaze, even as your eyes start to fill with tears, “Always dismissing my comments, rolling your eyes if I dare speak up in your presence, it gets tiring Frank- Francisco. You don’t have to like me, but they’re my friends too, don’t make me lose them just because you can’t stand me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way I swear.”  

“Yeah well, save it,” you say, pointing to the door, “I don’t need you to save me Francisco, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity. Get out of my house.”

“That’s not how it is, I promise,” he pleads but you’re not looking at him now, your cheeks are hot with embarrassment and you’re trying not to say something you’ll regret.

“Please, just leave,” you snap as you feel tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, ok.”

Frankie sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair, he brushes past you, and you hear a soft “I’m sorry.” As the door clicks shut behind him.

You feel your body tremble with rage as you find yourself unable to process the whole interaction. You pull out your phone and message the group chat.

You: Crisis averted.

You think you should add that it was Frankie who helped, but you’re feeling petty. All he did was show you the problem, he didn’t actually fix anything.

If anything he made things so much worse.

~*~

Frankie slumps back down in his recliner but he doesn’t turn the TV back on. Instead, he sits in silence and broods. He re-reads your message to the group chat and scowls. He has no right to be mad, not really, he knows that. But he really wishes he’d dealt with the situation better.

He looks down to his tented shorts and curses himself, the moment he showed you the faucet you were so close to him. The moment your arms touched he felt the rush of desire he suppresses every time he sees you. Now he’s worried he’s fucked it up completely. He can still smell you, the scent your bodywash he’s committed to memory now clings to his skin.  

He forces himself upstairs and into the shower, running it ice cold, just to try and make his erection go away. But it doesn’t help. He’s painfully hard as he tries to think of anything else.

All he can think of is the way your skin felt against his, the way you called him Francisco. It was meant to spurn him, but he loved it. The way his name rolled off your tongue with derision. It’s all he can think of as he turns on the hot water and grips his cock. He pumps himself slowly as he feels the hot burn in his gut, he’s already so fucking close.

“Fuck,” he groans under the hot stream, “I’m sorry.”

He growls as he fucks himself harder to the thought of you putting him in his place. He’s never considered himself a sub, but it’s all he can think of now. He’s whimpering as he fucks his fist faster and faster at the memory of you chewing him out. He deserved it, and that makes it all the sweeter.

He wants you to make him suffer. Atone.

He comes with a whine as his spend splatters against the tiles and slowly washes away down the drain. He pants desperately for some time before washing himself off. He heads back downstairs to re-light his joint and watch another episode of his documentary. On a need-fuelled whim he texts you.

Frankie: If you want me to fix your sink, let me know, I’m free all day.

Frankie Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

[lyomeii]

-> warnings: yandere themes, mentioned pregnancy (but nothing happens, I swear), mentioned violence, sukuna, arranged marriage, hallucinations, open ending because I’m busy with things :)

-> request by anon! Hi there! Can I ask for Sukuna's reincarnated lover who is incredibly kind and a great teacher and ALSO Gojo's lover but then Sukuna, infuriated by someone else having HIS lover, manages to get control of Juji and Y/n gets their memories back upon feeling his cursed energy and now Y/n is conflicted bc not only they still hold feelings for their King and want revenge for being manipulated by the elders through their reincarnations but they also love Gojo and his students and don't want to see them hurt, ahhh the drama!!!! And @yumieis WIAT WAIT HOW ABOUT SUKUNA X QUEEN OF CURSES MC???? LIKE MC FORGOT WHO HE WAS?? and another anon Both Gojo AND Sukuna being infatuated with Reader. Rip legs XDD

-> a/n: since those three are pretty similar, I decided to write it together as one post. I’m hope you guys aren’t angry with it and also, I got a little carried away with this one…

-> The sorcerer world knows about sukuna, who doesn’t after all? That man literally killed so many for own entertainment and own gains, so his name became quite famous among everyone who has cursed energy. what many people don’t know about it is his lover, a mysterious figure that accompanied him during his life as someone who not only was know to be only person he truly loved, but the main reason why he got defeat.

-> his beloved was used as a bait to trapped sukuna and be defeat by the sorcerers of that time. there was no deny this little acts made him furious, how could they hurt the person he loved the most? he will come back and once he does, sukuna will stole your away and make your his again. yet, he didn’t expect to take thousands of years to make it happen.

-> once he got trapped inside yuji body, it was clear the world has changed and a lot, but he could still sense you around and it didn’t took much time to find you. as a powerful sorcerer, sukuna was no surprised to see you as a faculty member of the another school that usually comes to tokyo to pay a visit at your loved one…gojo satoru.

-> not a good thing that sukuna got furious hearing the news of someone that resembles his past lover is married to the gojo satoru, the very same sorcerer who took him down as he first wake up in this time era. the many thought are running over his head, is possible that it’s really you? could it be some type of reincarnation? he has to find out and didn’t took much time for it.

-> once yuji was locked down, sukuna was able to hear through whispers about the real you. a young teacher who not only is engaged to the greatest sorcerer of the modern times, but also the truly reincarnation of the spouse of sukuna, making you an important piece for the higher uppers. fearing that one day you might get your memories back, they decided to marry you off to the gojo clan. which as a clever idea since all the servants from the household not only take care of you in his absence and always make reports of your actions through the day.

-> that only made sukuna angrier. they knew about the true story of his wife and they are making you forget about it. he needs to find a way to make you remind him or at least make sure you divorce gojo satoru. yet, he is incapable of doing anything as he struck inside yuji’s body, the curse can only watch you live happily ever with that damn sorcerer for now.

-> as you continue to work in kyoto, something strange happened during one of your missions. a high ranked curse attacked you and some of the third years during what was supposed to be just a normal day. thankfully none of the students were severely injured, but things weren’t so good for you. laying in a hospital bed with bandages all over your body to cover the many wounds and a headache that is only getting stronger by every second that goes by.

-> staying inside that boring and white room all by yourself, voices began to whisper all over the room. hearing them all the time is driving you insane, some of them call you ‘his wife’, ‘beloved’ or others names that you prefer to ignore. despite the many words the whispers call you, all of them have an unique connection and that what makes you feel sick…they said that you are sukuna’s significant other.

-> this has to be just hallucinations due to the constantly medication you’ve been taking, but no, the whispers only keep saying it over and over til you fall asleep. if this is indeed true, then it’s mean that you have been a pawn for the higher upper sorcerer since the day you were born, does it mean that gojo knows about it? the many doubts that are been planting inside your mind is growing more and more as you finally recover, but instead of going home to see your so beloved husband, you take a small trip to the archives.

-> there, between the oldest and restricted documents, your suspicions were confirmed. not only you are indeed connected to sukuna as a reincarnation version of his wife, but this thing has happen going on for thousands of years. whatever a reincarnation occurred, a council decided to marry them to a high ranked sorcerer to make sure that they would have children even more powerful than previous generations. this is sick, that’s for sure and now, you get even more worry about satoru. he is someone whose birth literally change the sorcerer world and all of that, but could it be that he has those intentions with you?

-> those thoughts are becoming a concern as time goes on and even with the idea of asking your husband about it don’t sound good, you fear about the consequences and how he would deal it. even with divorce sounding good, there is something inside you stopping from doing it and yet, you want to know more about it.

-> and the rare times that you came across yuji, things were a little awkwardly. you can feel the curse energy from sukuna coming from inside him and of course, you react to it. something it’s some past vision from the time you were with the king of curses or nosebleeds that make you feel dizzy, either ways it’s make sukuna aware that you finally know the true. he might not be able to reach you for now, but seeing how you realize the true makes him even more excited for the day he is able to take over the world. then, he will take down both satoru and the remaining sorcerers just to make you his only.

-> in the other hand, there is satoru who realize who distant you become and is trying his best to reconcile with you. the wedding might be arranged since the two of you were little, but he loves you! in fact, he was the very same one who request it to marry you to protect you from marrying someone too older and to make you his :)

-> despite the working too far away from you, gojo enjoy seeing you so happy. the little sparkle in your eyes as you teach the students from kyoto is adorable view or the times when the two of spend the weekend together? he makes sure to hold your hands and kiss your cheek in very opportunity. it was so great to be around you, but now you are too quiet and almost ignoring him when possible.

-> he knows why. satoru is aware about the true behind your existence, yet he prefer to ignore it. he is scared that you will leave and join sukuna, so satoru makes sure to make you stay with him.

-> making you take a license from working to spend more time with him at home, where none of the windows or doors open for you. the phone doesn’t work for anyone else other than him, meaning that you are struck inside your own home with your husband :) satoru loves you, that why he doing this to assure you won’t be manipulated by sukuna or something worse.

-> you, of course, try to convince him otherwise and even pretend that you don’t know what he is talking about. but it doesn’t work, meaning you a prisoner inside the very same walls you believed to be a refuge without anyone coming to rescue.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

[ticklishraspberries]

Movies Make Ticklers More Creative (Billy/Stu)

Summary: A bad horror film leaves Stu seeking entertainment in other forms, at the expense of Billy. (Thank you to the person who suggested I use the film Ghoulies as the movie in this fic!! Here is a YouTube link to the tickle scene in this movie, it is...Something for sure!! I haven’t seen the whole movie btw, just that clip as well as reading a few articles about it, so sorry if I’ve gotten any of the lore wrong. Regardless, it has an 8% on Rotten Tomatoes, so...)

As usual, Stu’s parents aren’t home, and he is filling the silence with the sounds of beer cans cracking open, hands rustling in the bowl of popcorn, girlish screams from the television speakers, and Billy’s commentary from the couch beside him.

After making their way through all the classic horror films, the boys have resorted to watching whatever they can find, whether they end up being fantastic deep cuts, or they absolutely suck, but joking about it makes it worth the watch.

Tonight’s movie is proving to be the latter. It’s a film called “Ghoulies” from ‘85, and it’s…Well, it’s keeping them entertained, for sure, but there is nothing disturbing (nor inspiring) about it. The scares are cheap, and the dialogue is atrocious.

Billy comments that the main chick, Donna, is kind of hot. Stu hums in agreement, but his heart isn’t quite in it. When the guy takes her out by the lake, though, their interests are piqued. This should be the part where Donna loses her chance of becoming the final girl, where she loses her virginity to the first schmuck who tries, and both the teens die a terrible death for daring to engage in premarital sex.

But that’s not what happens at all. Sure, it’s PG-13, but they were expecting at least a little action. But no, Donna and Mark stay fully-clothed and…Well, Stu snorts out a laugh as the kid starts tickling her instead of trying to bang her.

“This might be the worst movie that we’ve ever watched,” Billy says. His tone is deadpan, but there’s a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Oh, by far,” Stu agrees. “It’s not scary, and it’s not sexy. You can be missing one, but not both.”

Donna on screen is shrieking, begging Mark to stop tickling her. The scene feels eternally long, and since the screaming is that of laughter rather than fear, it feels much more ear-splitting than usual.

Stu looks over and sees Billy’s face screwed up in annoyance, and that sort of moping will just not do. Sure, the film sucks, but is good company not enough to make the guy happy?

“What a way to seduce a girl, eh?” Stu says, trying to crack some jokes and lighten the mood. “Tatum would nail me in the balls if I tried that.”

Billy just exhales through his nose in amusement, and Stu decides that isn’t enough.

“I mean, dude’s got no game. What did he say to her?”

“In the creepy voice? I dunno, I think he called her a little girl though, which is fucking weird.”

“Gross. She seems to like him, though. Maybe we should be taking notes,” Stu says, placing his beer down on the coffee table. They’re basically ignoring the movie by now, and he’s overcome with the strange desire to touch his best friend in that moment, to make him laugh like the girl in the movie, and that weird-ass scene gave him perfect inspiration on how to do so.

He and Billy have been friends since middle school, and Stu’s seen sides of him that no one else has. He’s pretty sure he’s the only person who has ever seen Billy cry, other than his parents. He’s the only person that knows Billy used to be scared of the dark, or that his mom had to sleep in his bed with him until he was ten because of that fear.

And, of course, he knows about the more fucked up shit that goes on in Billy’s head. He’s seen it first hand.

Stu also knows that Billy is ticklish, something he found out by accident and rarely used to his advantage, because last time he tried, he’d ended up with a pretty gnarly bruise on his jaw. But the risk seems worth it at that moment, so Stu takes his chances.

“Quit looking so miserable. The movie is shit, but I’m not,” Stu teases. Trying to mimic the weird, high-pitched voice the guy in the movie had adopted, he continues. “Cheer up, little boy!”

He reaches out a hand and prods at Billy’s stomach, which makes Billy shove at his hand with a suppressed huff of laughter.

“Fuck off,” he says.

Stu does not fuck off. Instead, he scoots closer on the couch, effectively trapping Billy between the arm of the couch and his body, and continuing to wiggle his long fingers against Billy’s stomach.

The light of the television illuminates Billy’s scrunched up expression, trying to hold back his laugh and seem pissed at Stu’s immaturity, but it only lasts a few moments before the bright, boyish giggles that are so unlike his personality come spilling out.

Stu grins in triumph. Billy’s actually sort of adorable when you get him like this: Guard down, acting his age, letting loose. He squirms like a fish on a hook, and Stu has to dodge his flailing limbs. His hair falls messily into his face, his cheeks look flushed.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you—” he grits out, but it doesn’t sound intimidating at all.

“No you won’t,” Stu replies. “You’d miss me too much.”

Billy lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, before dissolving into laughter again as Stu’s fingers dance up his sides. It isn’t until his ribs become a target that Billy truly fights back, grabbing at Stu’s wrists and trying to shove his hands away.

Stu takes that as a sign to back off, because although it was a risk he willingly took, leaving this without injury is still the preferable outcome. He watches with a grin as Billy catches his breath, arms wrapped protectively around his middle.

“You’re an asshole,” Billy says.

“I know,” Stu replies.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and Stu feels his face flush for reasons he isn’t quite ready to confront.

By the time they look back up at the screen, Mark and Donna are dead and they’ve completely lost track of the plot. Neither of them are complaining, because it was a fucking dumb plot to begin with. Leaving the crushed cans and empty bowl behind, the two boys climb the stairs and crash into Stu’s bed for the night, a common occurrence that somehow feels different this time, like something between them has shifted, just enough to make Stu’s heart skip a beat when Billy falls asleep with his face pressed into Stu’s shoulder.

Like this, he looks innocent. He looks beautiful.

Stu makes a mental note to research other horror films with tickle scenes in them, just in case he needs an excuse to hear that giggle again. Even if the movies suck, spending time with Billy is worth all the shitty scares in Hollywood.

[princelylove]

Have you ever written anything with Abacchio? I feel strong yandere vibes from him. Controlling and mean, not ready to compromise type of vibes. Obsessed yet detached. Would you be willing to share some headcanons with us? Thank you!

I think I did write for him once, but not a lot. In my head Leone and Guido are roommates, and Bruno, Pannacotta, and Narancia live together somewhere else. Bruno’s all “These are my sons.” but Leone and Guido see each other more like a “guy who I happen to live with, mutual trust.” kind of thing. Leone’s a bit of an outsider (Absolutely no one in Team Bucciarati likes cops, even if Leone is an ex-cop.), I think I’m still working out how I’m interpreting him. 

Leone is a cold, mean man. He acts disinterested in you, he might even pretend you just don’t exist. But is that really how he wants to be? I think Leone’s temperament depends on how badly his depression is affecting him, whether you’re in public or private, and how comfortable he is with you in general. He’s… a bit moody, pun not intended. 

A totally comfortable and reassured Leone would treat you like his savior. But he’s just too prideful to really admit that, especially if you’re not in a relationship, so he keeps that to himself. Those are his private thoughts, ones he won’t express until much later on in your relationship. You’re the only thing keeping him going, the thing that gets him up every morning. I said this in that alphabet ask request I did, “Leone loves to just sit and watch you. He gives you space, careful not to step on your metaphorical toes, and just sits quietly to watch. He won’t look away if you look over while he’s giving you that stupid, lovestruck stare. He’s so lucky he gets to witness you.” and I really do hold firm on it. When you’re alone, Leone’s face changes so much, if he’s in the mood to show you how utterly obsessed he is. He doesn’t mean to get in your way, please, continue what you’re doing. Don’t mind him.

And Christ he’s obsessed. Leone’s addicted. He doesn’t really… need to stare or even just interact with you, since he can just replay it. He pretends you’re annoying him, he wants to just sit there and listen to Monteverdi, what could you possibly have to say that’s more important than a classical genius? Shut up and eat your food, have Guido entertain you if you’re really that bored. The second you’re gone, though.. Leone’s all over his stand. He’s such a degenerate that he’ll get under the table just to see how you position your legs. God, you’re gorgeous. He’d kill to kiss your real ankle, or to drink from your glass at the same spot you did…

But Leone’s not at all ready to talk to the real you, so he won’t. He holds himself over for as long as he can this way- with placeholder you. He feels disgusting for it- piggybacking off of Narancia’s jokes and pretending your laughter was at what he had to say, holding ‘your’ hand over the table and pretending you’ve been in love forever, sitting in the place of whoever you were cuddling up to just to feel what it would be like… He really has no hard limits, Leone would replay you sleeping if he could find a safe way to do it. Does the guilt keep him up at night? Certainly. Will he stop? Never. 

Quick digression, isn’t that such a horrifying stand in a captor/victim situation? You can’t hide anything from him since he can just use his stand and replay you doing it. I’d hate him as a yandere, I love to argue. I hit him with the old reliable “I didn’t say that.” and he replays me, in fact, saying that. That’s my Hell.

And what happens in the meantime, before he’s ready to be a giant mush to you? He’s a cunt. A total dick. He’s physically present (Always physically present, for a man that “hates”  you…), but emotionally distant. He doesn’t want to be seen with you in the slightest. He goes out of his way to drive you away- he doesn’t want you to engage with him at all. If you sit down next to him he’s knocking his drink onto your lap. Won’t even apologize, unless the glass breaks. Then he’ll just snap at you to stay still. Doesn’t want the glass digging  into that gorgeous skin of yours… huh? He didn’t say anything. He’s glaring at you because he thinks he missed a piece, don’t get all worked up. (He’s staring, actually. He just looks mean.)

It’s a constant game of push and pull. Incredibly mixed messages. How are you supposed to take it when he bumps into you with enough force to knock you back (When he clearly had room to go around), but also puts his arm around you so you don’t fall while taking the train? Leone has the audacity to directly command you, but not the confidence to consistently speak to you. He wants you, badly, but can’t handle speaking to you for more  than a minute- and that’s generous. Once you finally crack him it’s like he’s an entirely different person. Doting and attentive, just not very verbally affectionate. He’s very handsy.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm busy, find someone else to play with."

[rafayel-fishie-moving]

— this is a GIMMICK BLOG, everything here is FICTIONAL. do not take it so seriously. i have no affiliations with infold, papergames or any other franchise pertaining to the company or its developers. this blog is used for entertainment purposes only and nothing more. 

listen, i'm more than happy to feed your guys' delusions, but this is a two-way street and boundaries are to be set, followed and honored, just as i would honor yours. so please read this post carefully, i'll know if you bothered to or not.

the OP of this blog is an adult. minors should not interact or follow, if i find out that you are following this blog and are underage, i will not hesitate to block you — this goes for ageless blogs as well. if i have to struggle trying to find an age indicator on your blog, i will simply block. engaging in anything NSFW underage is NOT something to laugh about. please do not be that person.

before i move forward, make sure to check out all the other lovely love and deepspace character blogs. their admins are absolutely darling and portray these characters beautifully! ↓

Caleb 🛩️ -> @caleb-pilot

Zayne ☃️ -> @zayne-snowman

Xavier 💫 -> @xavier-starlight

🤍 Thomas 🖌️ -> @thomasicism

Jeremiah 💐 -> @jeremiahofphilo

Tara 🔮 -> @taraandtarot

Greyson 🩺 -> @drgreysonmd

MC ❤️‍🔥 -> @aethercodeevol

Ⱥʂէɾą 🚫 -> @sasstras-gaze

Jenna 🛡️ -> @unicorns-captain

taken emoji anons: 🌷, 💜, 🪽, 🌱, 🔍, 🦄, 💍, 🥀, 🐉, 👾, 💤, 🦚, 🪼, 🖍️, 🐡, 🦈, ❄️, ⏳

— there are 3 rafayel 'personas' you can choose from to interact with. when you send an ask, please be sure to indicate which one you want to interact with, otherwise i'll just assume you want to talk to his renown artist persona.

each rafayel will be color coded when speaking like so:  ⛓️ abysswalker!rafayel 🌊 god of the tides!rafayel 🎨 artist!rafayel additional note: rafayel can be a little shit and blunt, please keep this in mind especially if you are highly sensitive or easily offended. (mans offended me one too many times in-game🤚 but we still out here.)

— NSFW/suggestive asks are fine to send, but please leave some indicator otherwise i won't know what you're trying to go for and i do love to deliver to the best of my ability but i can't if i'm confused.

to ensure your safety, please feel free to block/mute the following tags: cw: suggestive | cw: explicit

— i will refer to the askers with she/her pronouns, but please do not hesitate to let me know if you do have preferred pronouns. i'm more than happy to change the response to honor them.

— feedbacks will always be welcomed; it helps me with improvement and further developing this blog. just don't be an asshole when you're trying to approach me about it, because i won't take it too kindly.

— 99.9999999% of the posts on here will be from rafayel's POV, and not mine. my indicators will be as followed: after [ or 🫧 and/or tagged with '🫧 rafayel's taking a break'.

— this blog will never be my first priority over my IRL priorities, so please be mindful of this. i also have a full-time job averaging 40+ hours a week and my replies truly depend on rafayel's mood sometimes. but, i'll get to them, all i ask in return is patience and understanding. (please mirror this for my beloved admins running the other character blogs, too.)

i am aware that asks can be eaten and it's fine to nudge me asking if i received it or not, i'm more than happy to confirm; however, please refrain from being too persistent especially if i confirmed that i did receive it already.

blog established 2024/04/08 * this post will be updated from time to time.

[wundrousarts]

Hi folks! It seems like people are discovering that there are people online who write some WEIRD! 👎 stuff for Nevermoor. Some tips and tricks for dealing with that:

Don't engage. Don't read the fics. Don't even comment to say how much you hate it.

Don't spread it around. It's gross as hell, I know! But being like "ew, guys, I found this gross fic" just means you're causing more people to seek out said gross fic, and that's just not great. If you don't want to see it, no one else wants to either.

If you can: block, mute, or filter. I don't really use any fanfic sites to know if these functionalities exist, but I'm sure people online have found ways. Edit: here's a way to do it on Ao3.

TL;DR: Ignore, Ignore, Ignore. 👍

(PS: Same thing goes for when people send weird inappropriate anon messages. Just delete them from your inbox and don't subject others to them.)

This is unfortunately something that's been present for years in the fandom, on both Ao3 and Wattpad. This is also why I essentially don't read Nevermoor fics unless they're for Mogtober, and even then I'm cautious. I have seen some weird stuff written about my favorite characters that I wish I could pluck from my brain and set on fire, or worse! But when I stumble across that stuff, I just quickly close the tab and pivot to something else to get my mind off of it.

We should not entertain these types of people in a fandom full of minors about a middle grade series, so: just don't engage with them, ignore them, filter them out, and maybe even drown them out with some fics of your own.

[goldensugarywaffles]

Oops I Summoned a Succubus!

Summary: The maknae line summoned a demon and now it’s everyone’s problem.

Warnings: Innuendos, discussions of sex, and Y/n and Taehyung being slight perverts?

Author’s Note: New series! Less edgy than my other one. Don’t really write smut so we’ll see how this goes. Practice makes perfect and I have now given myself an entire series to practice with T-T...inspired by @sunshinerainbowsbts​ because she is the one person who can make me cackle and leave me scandalized in the same fic. She made me laugh and now everyone has to suffer. Forgive me if the fic is bad I swear I tried...

Taehyung was bored and horny. An often-dangerous combination with horrible consequences. After the last incident, it took months before Jimin could look at cucumbers again without a chill going down his spine. Rolling off the couch with a groan, Taehyung set off on his search for some entertainment. While he would usually quell his arousal with help from one of his six boyfriends, he wasn’t in the mood today. With the group becoming increasingly popular by the day, the time for romance and sex was virtually nonexistent. Even when they had the chance to engage in such things, there was no spark. It was practically a chore to relieve stress. Sighing sadly, he wandered into the gaming room, hoping to drown his boredom with video games.

Walking into the room, he was met with a familiar sight. Jungkook was at his computer, grumbling out curses and aggressively smashing the buttons of his keyboard with no strategy. Across the room, Jimin sat watching the younger boy in mild amusement. “How many times has he failed this level?" Planting a kiss on Jimin's cheek, he flops down next to the dancer with a huff. Jimin merely chuckles in response, "I've lost count after fifteen. He's been here for hours, and I don't think he plans to leave anytime soon." Taehyung hums in acknowledgment, watching as Jungkook’s character dies and the screen fades to black flashing the words “Game Over” across the screen. With an angry shout, Jungkook tosses down his mouse. Grumpily making his way to his older lovers, he collapses on their laps without a single care in the world. Jimin fondly pats Jungkook’s butt while Taehyung runs a comforting hand through the younger idol’s hair.

“Guys, I’m bored. Let’s do something fun,” Taehyung whines. If anyone was going to entertain his antics, it would be Jimin and Jungkook. The three were often known for getting into all kinds of mischief. Lifting his head from Taehyung’s lap Jungkook gave the singer a curious look. "You aren't horny, too, are you?" Jimin shivers at the statement. He would never trust a bored and horny Taehyung ever again. Taehyung scoffs, “If you must know, yes, I am feeling a little worked up right now.” Jimin subtly shifts in his spot, preparing to make his escape. Taehyung cuts him off before he gets the chance, “However, I am mostly bored and do not feel like having sex right now.” Jimin instantly relaxes while Jungkook pouts, the youngest’s sex drive insatiable.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Jimin questions, not fully convinced about Taehyung’s innocent intentions but willing to play along anyway. Taehyung hums, "I want to do something mischievous but not necessarily harmful.” Jimin raises an eyebrow at the vague statement. “Like a prank?” Jungkook excitedly suggests. Jungkook was a master at pranks and knew exactly how to set everyone off. “Let’s prank Namjoon! He’s the least scary while angry and will probably only lecture us,” Jungkook gushes, “Oh! Or he’ll do that thing where he looks at us, sighs, and then walks away.” Taehyung nods in agreement. For now, Namjoon was the safest choice to prank, especially because he was in a good mood today when Taehyungs last saw him. “How should we prank him? He’s already clumsy,” Taehyung muses. “We could rearrange his books by size instead of the genre,” Jimin offers. Namjoon’s room was extremely organized, or he would often lose things. Namjoon was especially adamant that his books remain organized by genre and hated when people tampered with them.

Taehyung shrugs; while this wasn't the most exciting activity, he figures it could alleviate at least some of the boredom. Hopping off the couch, the boys make their way to Namjoon's room, knowing that all the others are out for the day. Yoongi was probably locked up in his genius lab, Hoseok was at the dance studio, and Seokjin had gone to the grocery store dragging Namjoon with him. “Okay, what are we waiting for?" Jungkook hops off the other two and rushes to Namjoon's room, far more excited than he should be. Grabbing the younger's hand, Jimin drags Taehyung along to the leader's office. By the time they arrive, Jungkook has already removed various books from the shelves leaving them scattered all over the floor. With a shrug, Jimin starts helping, picking up books and looking over them as if he is interested in what they have to say. Taehyung groans, this was one of the most boring pranks they had ever come up with, and he couldn't believe he agreed to it. Sitting on Namjoon's desk, Taehyung yelps when he sits on something. Looking at the offending object, he suddenly becomes intrigued.  

It wasn’t a book that Namjoon would typically read. It looked old and didn’t even have a title. There was an intricate design of red flowers all over the cover with gold embroidered around them. "Taehyung, why aren't you helping? You were the one who was bored,” Jungkook whines draping himself over the singer to get a look at whatever had caught his hyung’s attention. Giving up on his work Jimin makes his way over to the other two. “What are you two doing?" Taehyung traces his fingers over the book, a sudden chill going down his spine. For some reason, it felt ominous. Flipping the book open to the last page, he reads the passage aloud.

The Demon of Eros Summoning Spell:

From the blood of Eros and blessed by the hands of Aphrodite, a creature of passion and pleasure was born. A gift to mortals and mystical creatures alike, their one true purpose is to serve and provide in the most intimate ways. To fulfill your deepest desires and mend the wounds of the heart, summon the demon if you dare and follow the ritual exactly:

Obtain the flowers born from Eros’ demon:

Coriander for Lust, Roses for Love, Camellia for Desire, and Chrysanthemum for Death

Obtain the demon’s spices:

Cinnamon, Ginseng, Nutmeg, and Ginger.

Spread the ingredients in a large circle, and add three drops of blood from the summoners.

Chant the spell: I summon the sinful demon of lust, pleasure, love, and desire. To pull your soul from the pits of fire. Reveal yourself to the great cosmos; I call upon you, the demon of Eros!

The boys stood in confusion around the book. Why did Namjoon have a demon-summoning book? Ignoring the feeling of unease in his stomach, Taehyung speaks, "What if we summon it?” Jimin scoffs while Jungkook’s breath hitches. “You want to summon a demon?” Jungkook questions the older vocalist, trying to understand if he heard correctly. Taehyung nods, “It would be a great prank. We’ll wait until everyone gets home and then summon the demon!” Jimin raises an eyebrow at the younger man, “You do realize this won’t really summon a demon, right? Demons aren’t real, and this is probably just an old occult book Namjoon found." Taehyung nods in confidently, "All the more reason to do it. Demons aren't real, and no one will get hurt." Jungkook hesitates; while demons aren't real, he still feels uneasy with the whole idea. However, looking at the excitement on Taehyung and Jimin's faces, he relents.

“Alright, where do we get all this stuff?”

Yoongi was tired. He had been locked away in his studio all day long and probably wouldn’t have left if it wasn't for Hoseok. The two men shuffle towards their home, ready for a decent meal and a good night’s sleep. Hoseok leans into Yoongi, almost ready to pass out after an intense session of dancing. The younger rapper pushed himself far beyond his limits despite Yoongi's protests. Placing a gentle kiss on the dancer’s temple, Yoongi unlocks the door, ready for a peaceful night.

Unfortunately, peace is not a thing in the Bangtan household. As soon as he opens the door, his poor ears are assaulted with shouts and shrieks. Seokjin is red in the face speaking so fast that Yoongi can barely understand him. It would have been an almost sight if it wasn’t for the scene in front of him. There are flowers and some sort of powder scattered around his living room. Jimin is standing on a couch arguing with Jin as if the height gave him an advantage. Jungkook is holding Seokjin back from snatching Jimin up. Taehyung has some book in his hand, declaring no one can stop him. Sitting in the corner, Namjoon merely watches, clearly giving up on de-escalating the situation at hand. While Yoongi would ask what's happening, he doesn't have it in him to care. He drags Hoseok over to the couch, flopping down on it and forcing Jimin to move over. Closing his eyes he decides to wait until the commotion dies down before attempting to engage with anyone.

Suddenly Taehyung shouts, “I summon the sinful demon. Of lust, pleasure, love, and desire. To pull your soul from the pits of fire. Reveal yourself to the great cosmos; I call upon you, the demon of Eros!” The room immediately gets quiet. While Yoongi was not completely aware of what was happening, he managed to put two and two together. Taehyung was trying to summon a demon, Jimin and Jungkook were in on it, and he just chanted the spell. Looking around the room, everyone waits for something to happen. Even Hoseok, who had woken up out of his sleepy state after hearing the word demon and summon in the same sentence. After a solid minute, Jimin laughed, "I told you it wasn't real, Jin!”

As if on cue the power went out and suddenly shrouded in darkness. Hoseok immediately screamed and followed it up with a violent slew of curses. Seokjin immediately went into a tirade against Jimin while the latter defiantly claimed it was a coincidence. "Um, guys, look," Namjoon's voice echoed throughout the dark room, and everyone turned their attention to the mess on the floor. The flowers and spices were glowing a faint pink color. Soon they started shifting as if they were being pushed by a breeze, swirling up into a glowing tornado. The boys stood in horror as the tornado burst into a bright light.

“What the fuck is happening?”

“I told you not to summon the demon! Now look!”

“We’re all going to die!”

Suddenly everything stops. The wind no longer blows, and the light disappears. Even the power comes back on.

Rubbing at his eyes, Namjoon looks around to see the men doing the same. Namjoon attempts to compose himself before flinching at Hoseok’s signature scream. In the center of the room stood a girl. An alarmingly attractive girl. At first glance, she seemed normal, dressed in a hoodie and some joggers with white sneakers to match. She didn’t even glance at the seven men in the room, her attention captivated by the cell phone in her hand and the headphones signifying she couldn’t hear a thing. But looking closer, Namjoon saw a pair of dark horns protruding from her head and a striking set of sparkling eyes with flecks of red and pink. Looking up from her phone, her smile immediately dropped from her face, “Oh fuck.”

And for the third time that night, Hoseok screamed.

Jimin wasn’t exactly sure how demons worked. After all, he didn’t believe they were real until five minutes ago. But from what he gathered so far, you were not a normal demon. Almost immediately after being summoned, you had changed your appearance, your horns disappearing and your eyes a more natural color. You merely observed the idol band lose their shit and even allowed Seokjin to tie you to a chair and attempt to banish you with a twenty-four-karat gold necklace with a cross charm that he found in Jimin’s room. Namjoon had immediately fetched a notebook and began taking notes about every detail he could find, while Taehyung bombarded you with so many questions it made your head spin.

After a good thirty minutes, the men had seemed to calm down, and you decided now was a good time as any to introduce yourself. After all, while you usually enjoyed being tied up, there was nothing sexy about this situation. In a puff of bright pink smoke, you suddenly appeared on their couch, no longer restrained by the ropes Seokjin had taken the time to put you in. You held your hands out in a surrendering motion, hoping your usage of magic wouldn’t set off another freakout. “Everyone, let's calm down. I’m not going to hurt anyone. Well, unless you want me to, but that's a conversation for later. Sorry for the dramatic entrance. It's a typical thing we demons do so that mortals have no room to deny our existence. Just some basic stuff. Anyway, my name is Y/n, and I’m your personal demon.” The boys blink in shock at your clearly practiced and polite tone, fully expecting you to take their souls and suck their blood. A minute of silence passes before you decide to prompt the men, the awkward silence suffocating.

“So, may I ask who I am speaking to? Something I can call you other than daddy?” Jungkook choked at the thought, and you gave him an innocent smile. Seokjin, on the other hand, scoffs, far more concerned about your supposed lack of knowledge about who they are. “Wait. You don’t know who we are?” This causes all seven of the men to look at you incredulously. While they never considered themselves to be arrogant or narcissistic, they found it virtually impossible that'd even a demon wouldn't know who they were. Rolling your eyes, you figure that they are no longer freaked out if they have the time to worry about their popularity, “Yes, I am aware of who you are. I was simply being polite. But shouldn’t we be focusing on the more serious topic at hand?”

Tilting his head Hoseok regards you wearily, “What serious aspects?” He was concerned that this was the moment you’d reveal your bloody fangs and kill them all. However, he was relieved when all you did was give a half-hearted shrug. “It is extremely clear to me that no one in this house summoned me intentionally. Luckily for you unlike most demons I have a passionate hatred for killing mortals so there will be no repercussions for reckless summoning.” Yoongi quirks a brow at the statement, “I thought you said you were our personal demon? Are you saying we could have summoned someone else? Maybe someone less chatty?”

Ignoring the cat-like man's jab, you decide to give the men the general rundown of summoning Eros’ demon. “Yes, I am your personal demon. Think of it as a matchmaking system. Every person has a specific type and specific needs, and I fit all seven of yours. If anyone else outside of you seven had cast the spell, a different demon would have appeared." Yoongi nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer, but Seokjin, however, was not. After furiously flipping through the pages of the book that summoned you (hoping he could find a way to send you back), he was scandalized to learn just what type of demon you were. Pointing at the maknae line accusingly he shouted, “You three idiots summoned a sex demon! Did you even read the book?”

“Woah, not to ruin the already awkward mood, but sex demon comes off as kind of derogatory, and I'm not into degradation. I’d prefer if you’d use the more politically correct term succubus.” Seokjin flushes, mumbling out a quick apology, caught off guard by your constant sexual references. Hoseok would have almost found it funny if he wasn’t still scared out of his mind at the fact that there was a demon in their living room. In fact, he found it disturbing that everyone else was seemingly okay with the concept.

However, Taehyung still had one very important question, “Where does the sex part come in?” In an instant, the serious tone of the conversation was broken. Jimin immediately slaps his palm to his forehead, Namjoon chokes, Seokjin sputters, Jungkook and Hoseok blush a furious bright red, and Yoongi nods in genuine agreement wondering how you are going to explain that. Surprisingly, you weren’t fazed by the question at all.

“I mean we could go at it now if you wanted.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows immediately shoot up at your bold statement, and you swear he's considering it. However, Namjoon clears his throat gesturing for you to go on and give a more serious explanation. With a sigh, you tap on the book in Seokjin’s hand, “Since you guys clearly have something against reading, I'll give you a basic breakdown. I’m basically a kinky therapist. I bring the spark back into your sex lives and help you explore your kinks while also helping you strengthen your relationship. I’m your personal demon so I already know your kinks now that you've summoned me. So really, my only goal is to get you to embrace them.”

Hoseok nods slowly, though he is still quite cautious. “What exactly do you get out of this? Are you going to take our souls?” Making finger guns at the dancer, you continue, “You know how vampires need blood to survive? Think of me as an energy vampire. While most just drain energy from their prey, leaving them feeling tired and exhausted, succubae choose to feed on sexual energy. It's enjoyable, consensual, and doesn't hurt the person they're feeding from, unlike most other energy ways of energy feeding.”

Every so subtly, Taehyung chimes in, "So how much sex do we need to have? Is this like an everyday thing?” Seokjin slaps the younger man on the back of the head, chastising him for speaking without tact. You only shrug as if he asked about the weather, “I can survive without it for long periods of time. It’s kind of like getting a craving for certain food and just ignoring it. Nothing you need to be worried about.”

Not knowing what else to say, the room gets quiet. It was a lot to take in in one night. Though after some consideration, none of them were necessarily against the idea of having sex with you. You were extremely attractive and seemed genuinely friendly. Fooling around with a succubus with no strings attached even seemed appealing. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

“I’ll bet a hundred bucks that Jimin has a mommy kink.”

“Taehyung what the hell?!”

“Make it two hundred and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

“Y/n!”

“Deal.”

“Guys seriously?!”

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Defiant One, Pt. 7

While McKay is audibly upset, putting the distance between himself and McKay seems to have calmed Sheppard down considerably. The way he's chatting to McKay over the radio is almost domestic, like they're just a long-distance couple on a phone call.

He notices frost in a shadowy spot so to distract McKay, he attempts to engage his mind with a problem: "D'you have any idea how long the days are on this planet? ... ‘Cause I got a feeling the nights are pretty damn cold. Sub-zero cold."

This is something that McKay probably could have figured out, and may even have wanted to figure out in some other situation. Now, he doesn't even entertain the question because he has a single-minded conviction that it's a mistake for them to be separated.

Also, Celsius? Fahrenheit? In either case, tactically their best course of action in that situation would be to get together and share body heat. Could be where John's subconscious was also leading him but he's not listening to it.

The thing is. Brendan is watching Rodney, listening in on this discussion. He's making mental notes, coming to conclusions. He's seeing something taking place between them. Got to wonder what he's thinking, overhearing all of it.

Sheppard attempts to keep a conversational tone. McKay is trying every angle he can think of to convince Sheppard that going after the wraith is a bad idea. They have the following exchange:

McKay: We're six hours overdue. Assuming they waited an hour before sending a rescue mission... Sheppard: There's a very good chance it's gonna be dark before another Jumper can get here. If we play the waiting game, the guy who's been around for ten thousand years is gonna win. McKay: Major, anyone or anything capable of surviving that long is gonna be a serious adversary. Sheppard: Well, not if I get him out in the open. He won't know about our weapons. If all goes well, I'll fly the Jumper back and pick you up. McKay: And if all doesn't go well... Sheppard: It will. McKay: Well, things haven't gone all that well thus far. Sheppard: You know, Rodney, these guys do die if you have enough fire power. McKay: Eventually, yes, but... Sheppard: Try and stay positive. How's Gaul feeling? McKay: He can move his toes. Sheppard: See? Things are looking up!

Sheppard attempts to distract McKay using reason ("he won't know about our weapons"), using humour ("10,000 year old guy is going to win the waiting game"), using flirtation ("I'll... pick ya up"), using friendliness ("Try and stay positive"; here used in the non-military sense to undo the previous), using intimacy ("Rodney"), using reassurance ("They do die"; "It will"), misdirection ("How's Gaul"?). We've seen before how Sheppard uses his charm as a weapon when he needs something from someone or needs someone to do something, needs things to go his way. Here, he is trying every trick in his book to get Rodney's support for his mission, to convince him that he's right. It's not working.

This is a man who is used to getting anything he wants from anyone simply by flashing a smile, using his charm.

I have to emphasize again that McKay is not afraid, here. It is not out of fear (at least, not for himself) that he wants Sheppard to come back. It's out of concern. And nothing Sheppard throws at him is enough to distract him from this, from something that is vitally important to him -- the other man's safety. The only thing that seems to work momentarily is redirecting his concern to Brendan.

Sheppard engages the wraith via radio. He lies about them winning the war, about himself being Lantean, the wraith being the only one of its kind left in the world, everything. He lies about everything and he does it very naturally. He's very convincingly working an angle. And it's pretty interesting that his angle seems to be to emphasize the loneliness of someone that seems to have spent the previous 10,000 years alone.

Sheppard had self-isolated to the most remote part of his world after the events in Afghanistan, possibly punishing himself through self-imposed loneliness. Because loneliness is what hurts him the most.

The wraith doesn't want to believe what he's saying is true, but Sheppard certainly seems to be able to plant the seed of doubt. He's using just a little bit of the truth to tell a bold faced lie.

Sheppard's plan was to lure the wraith out of the jumper and shoot it but instead, he gets shot himself. It seems Rodney was right about it being a serious adversary. And Sheppard was wrong about everything he told McKay: he managed to lure it out into the open but not take it out, it did manage to quickly learn about their weapons, he wasn't able to get the jumper, he did not have enough firepower (his P-90 malfunctioned), and things did not go well. And again, it is not that McKay pessimistically assumed that everything would go wrong but that he was very much concerned.

Usually, Sheppard is the more strategic of the two. He is the strategic thinker. While he had devised a plan of action here, it seems that he was still acting too rashly, went in too stubbornly, single-mindedly. And it was never because of the ship but because he needed to put some distance between himself and his own feelings.

If he could just take out the wraith. If he could save Rodney. It wouldn't bring back the dead but it might stay their ghosts from dragging him down with them, at least for a while.

Again, Sheppard feels the need to contact McKay right away, while he's still bandaging himself up.

Sheppard: McKay. McKay: Major! What's happening? Sheppard: I thought you should know -- round one was a draw. McKay: I don't like the sound of that.

He gets no "I told you so" from McKay, only more concern. Sheppard actually tells him "I thought you should know," which is very sweet. He wants to keep Rodney informed even though there's no real tactical reason for doing that. He needs to stay in contact, he does not want to be alone in this. There is no way he could have taken McKay into the danger zone with him but regardless, he needs the other man's company.

As much as he feels the need to run away from this, to keep the distance, to keep those protective barriers around himself, he is more and more unable to do that. Rodney is just... there. He's just there and he's not going away.

He continues, and note that it's because they're talking over radio, it's because there's physical distance between them, that he's actually able to share some of his feelings:

Sheppard: Me neither. I took some fire. McKay: Are you injured? Sheppard: Yeah, that's what I mean by "I took some fire". But I don't think it's too bad.

It's quite possible that this is far from the worst injury Sheppard has had but he's still lying to comfort McKay here (McKay actually tells Brendan "That's comforting, huh?" thinking that what he's hearing from Sheppard is everything but comforting). McKay can hear his breath rattling, Sheppard is telling him to put a gun into Brendan's hand in case he doesn't make it back to them. All of that has got to sound pretty concerning to McKay.

One thing I want to point out here that is relevant with some later episodes. We hear Sheppard end his call with "Sheppard out" here. But we did not hear him say it earlier between his line "Things are looking up!" and his engaging the wraith via the communication system. There is a little bit of the conversation between Sheppard and McKay that is missing to us, the audience. Now, later on we're going to have an entire episode (The Game, S03E15) letting us know that there is a whole world of things happening between them that we don't get to see, but here is one of the first indications of something missing. And there are going to be bigger chunks missing in future episodes.

McKay gets even more agitated over hearing an explosion (one assumes, through the radio). Sheppard tells him that he almost blew himself up. He also tells McKay to stay off the radio because he's "busy" and, because he's probably a little bit embarrassed about just almost having done himself in with an alien weapon, he doesn't elaborate more on the situation. McKay, that is, doesn't really know what's happening and is all the more agitated by Sheppard not explaining like he did earlier. Regardless, he feels the need to explain Sheppard's behaviour to Brendan (repeating his words, "He's--- busy!"), and if they were displaying mom and dad fighting in front of the kid energy in front of Brendan before, this has the energy of making excuses for your spouse's behaviour written all over it.

This is when Brendan lets McKay in on what he has been observing for a while now, listening to them go back and forth (and probably more than once echoed Sheppard's sentiments from the beginning of the episode: "Alright, knock it off, guys. I've spent the last fifteen hours listening to you two!"). It's not that McKay wants Sheppard to come back to them. It's not that he's afraid and needs the Major to come back and protect them. It's that he wants to be with Sheppard, and since Sheppard is out there, McKay also wants to be out there with him. This is not at all like the Rodney he knows.

McKay doesn't want to admit it. But Brendan is not wrong, every bone in his body is telling him that his place is with Sheppard.

Continued in Pt. 8

[fabuloustrash05]

About the group of friends in tmnt 2012 (Mona, April, Karai, Shinigami, Renet and Alopex) What would the personality of each person in the group be like?

April often tries to be the voice of reason of the girl group, kinda like Leo with his team, but she is often overwhelmed, because for most of her life, she’s never had girlfriends before. She’s always been a tomboy and more comfortable hanging out with guys so having female friends is a new experience for her. She’s definitely convinced that she is the “normal one” of the group. Often she’s 110% DONE with these girls and their antics.

Mona is a friend that everyone just likes to be around. They enjoy her presence and her cluelessness of earth culture so it’s very entertaining to see her reaction to certain things but also sometimes she has the most insane war stories to share with everyone and it just boggles everyone’s mind that she’s their age yet has been through so much and does not seem phased by these traumatic stories it at all.

Karai and Shinigami are those two friends in the group who are WAY closer to each other than everyone else and would often gossip and talk about the rest of the group behind their backs, mainly shit talk about April. Sometimes the two would even try to “pick on” or prank Mona by taking advantage of her culture shock on Earth but April would quickly shut it down, protecting her friend. April is usually their main target. They just like to see what would make her snap. 

Renet is that friend in the group that no one really knows how exactly she got in their group but have just accepted that she is in their friend group. She comes and goes as she pleases (considering she is from another time period) not always around but when she is it really shocks everyone. She’s that friend who doesn’t respond when the group is making plans to hang out so everyone just assumes that she’s can’t come, but at the last minute, she shows up out out of the blue.

Alopex is the friend who’s apart of the group but never really around or hangs out with them. Like, she’ll just send a “👍” or leave the chat on “READ” and no one’s bothered by it cause she’s the older lady who’s used to being alone. Karai also looks up to Alopex as he idol ever since she learn that she’s the one who chopped off Tiger Claw’s tail and arm.

April and Mona are instantly besties, idc what anyone says, these two are like sisters who always have each others backs.

Since she is the tallest, all of the girls enjoy being carried or getting piggyback rides from Mona.

Mona Lisa is that friend who won’t shut up about her boyfriend. She always manages to find a way to mention him any time she hangs out with the girls. April and Renet don’t mind and think it’s sweet, Karai and Shini however find it annoying. Alopex just doesn’t care.

Karai and Mona often buttheads, not that they don’t get along, it’s more of a friendly rivalry. Karai sometimes feels threatened by Mona’s presence, think of it like two Apex predators fighting for dominance and deciding who’s the best. Often these two girls will spar with one another or engage in friendly competition just to see who is better. Karai does it to fill up her pride and honor while Mona does it for her own enjoyment and likes a challenge that could possibly help her improve in combat. In the end, they’re good friends but there’s some slight tension.

Shinigami is definitely that friend who likes doing makeovers and shopping for new clothes. I can imagine her wanting to make Mona Lisa her new fashion project, to teach her about Earth’s fashion and improve her wardrobe. Shini also teaches April about how to properly use make up because April knows next to nothing about it (only mascara and lip gloss) so Shini would take her under her wing. Renet would be the same except with hair. She would always love to style and braid each of the girls hair when hanging out with them.

Shinigami is Renet’s favorite person to be around in the group. She’s always in Shini’s personal space. In the beginning, Shini found it extremely annoying and couldn’t stand Renet, but slowly she warmed up to the bubbly time traveler and now they’re besties.

[thenewfuture]

Hey guys, Mod Freeze here….

…

…We need to talk.

Or more like, I need to talk and get these emotions off my chest.

If you were on my main blog then you know who this is about already. But for those unaware and not in the know…

Let’s get educated, I guess…

On Tuesday, several big name YouTubers were the talk of the town with their biggest sparks of controversy on Twitter. But we’re here to only talk about one of those individuals. Chuggaaconroy.

Chuggaaconroy is a long time YouTuber who has been making Let’s Plays of his favorite games for over 2 decades now. And I was avid watcher of his since I was about in middle school. Something…clicked with me with how he handled himself, his silly little puns, his goofy attitude, his informative research into the games he was playing; it all seemed so cool to me. I looked up to him, I wanted to be like him one day, maybe even go to a convention and meet him in person at his panel. That was my dream, he was idol…

……….On Tuesday, Lady Emily brought forward that Chuggaaconroy had been sexually harassing her last year. Asking her for feet pics and wanting her to partake in his fetish despite already having a girlfriend. To which, he admitted to be true. Claiming he “misread” the situation, or “was unaware” of how he was coming across….

….Y’know they say to never meet your heroes, or to never idolize anyone for these reasons alone, yet it never clicked with me. I was fans of many other big shots in the entertainment world, be it TV producers, actors, writers or other YouTubers, one by one each was found to be creepy in the end. Some of them I liked their content for a mere day before they turn around and got exposed. It’s be funny if it wasn’t so sad…

Despite all of that though, despite having seen numerous of people I’ve looked up to for their content and got inspired by, everytime. I told myself. “If this happened to Chuggaaconroy, I would just give up. I would give up on people, this dream I had, everything! Because I would know what to do with myself” I couldn’t fathom…a world…where someone I looked up to for such a huge part of my life…could do something like that…

So I want to talk about several topics regarding this.

Firstly, boundaries. It is always important for you to set up boundaries and protect yourself. Even against the smallest of things, know your limits, and address them right from the jump. If someone asks you to do something you’re not comfortable with, don’t play along to appease them, do not engage with that activity or person anymore and shut it down as soon as possible.

And this goes around the other way, it’s important to think before you say something and ask yourself? “Is this okay? Is it really all right to do this?” Something innocent and harmless to you may not be so to others, abd you have to check yourself. I have in the past spoken out of turn with others, typically in a joking matter when the situation was far more serious then I thought it to be. It led to conversations becoming awkward and south badly because I misunderstood something.

Now I know there is a....ginormous margin of a distance between making jokes at improper times and....sexually harassing someone to partake in a fucking fetish, but the point still stands. Communication is a two-way street. I also don't want to make it seem like I'm victim blaming here, oh no. The fault still lies with Chuggaa. I just want others to protect themselves in case something does arise similarly, and for others to think before doing something.

Next point, the defenders. Now I have made it abundantly clear that I am so distraught by this news, and wish that it was untrue or that this would be a dream I could wake up from. But we all have to face reality at some point. That doesn't stop others from trying to defend their beloved idol, oh-so much though. Now I can understand to some degree the point of having it resolved through DMs, instead of leaking it on Twitter for the whole world to know; but bottling up all those emotions and baggage isn't exactly the healthiest thing to do either. It was right fro Lady Emily to stand up and let everyone know of the sexual harassment she had to endure.

Regardless, people still wish to defend Chuggaa anyway. And some....think it would be an excellent idea....out of all excuses....to say that it's normal for him to not find any wrongdoings on his part.....because he's autistic and doesn't get social cues.

.......You all know exactly how I feel about this type of excuse so let me reiterate.

....Don't.

....Ever.

.....Ever....!

....Ever!

EVER!

Use Autism as an excuse, to justify shitty behavior!

It. Is. Unacceptable!

You're just being ableist and reducing every other austic person out there by condemning shitty behavior, and you're infantizing Chuggaaconroy and acting like he doesn't know any better.

Chuggaa is not a fucking soft "uwu"cinnamon roll baby boy, he's a grown thirty-something year old man! Treat him like it!

And also, Chuggaa has never once hidden behind his autism as an excuse for anything. He admitted to it without a shadow of an excuse or any truth dragging to be forced out of him. So don't say stuff for him and defend his actions with that. Because, news flash, LADY EMILY IS ALSO AUTISTIC! What fucking double standards are you implying by saying she should've simply said no, but free Chuggaa of any and all crime.

I fucking hate that excuse! And as a person with Autism myself, I WILL NOT FOR SUCH SHIT BEHAVIOR AND DEFENSE LIKE THAT!

Ugh.........

.......So....what now...? Am I ever going to learn? Are we ever going to learn? Should we stop idolizing and looking up to others in general? Is it wrong to ever dream and get inspired because of others... I don't think so...

This brings me to the last point I want to talk about...

Inspirational figures. It's easier said than done to not look up to somebody, it's human nature. We look up to people all the time. Our parents, family members, our friends, actors, musicians, writers, influencers, fictional characters. And it's to an ever greater effect when you're a child. We think of them as heroes, gods. People inspire one another, and that inspiration sparks a light in someone's heart, and allows that person to carve out their path and find their potential future in life.

How many of you have gotten in to something because of someone else? Because you saw someone popular do it and you wanted to follow in their footsteps. I'm guessing a lot of you...

There is nothing wrong with wanting to be like somebody, to chase down that avenue of the person you admire so much. And it's going to be a long and treacherous road, but I need you to understand something... That person is so far away...so out of reach you can't touch them...but you know who you can hold...your friends. Your family. Those people closest to you, are that matter most. Not someone behind a screen. And like I said, it's going to be extremely hard to break away from that idolization. But don't ever stop going down the road to your future. Don't chase after someone else....love yourself first and foremost. Inspire yourself. Be your own inspiration.

And if you look up to me, or if I have influenced you in any way with this blog or my writing... Thank you...that means a lot... And I hope you can shine even better than I can... I hope you stick with the ones that matter most to you.

So class, what did we learn today.

-Set up boundaries to protect yourself from strangers at the first jump

-Think of what you're going to say before you say it

-It is isn't inherently wrong to have heroes.

-Inspire yourself

-And don't fucking ever use autism as an excuse from criticism. Or I will find you and eat bones starting from the inside and working my way out!

Ahem...! So, that's all I wanted to say. I know this stuff isn't what you're used to on this blog but I just had to get this out there and speak about it somehow. And I hope to see you all soon with some updates.

Take care of yourselves...

-Mod

[disturbedbydesign]

Special Girl - Part 5

Summary: You arrived at Harvard as a shy, nerdy girl. You never thought a guy like Lloyd Hansen would notice you. But Lloyd saw you—really saw you—and for a time you became his special girl. Now, years later, you’re stuck in a sexless marriage. Unloved and unfucked for months, you’ve decided enough is enough. The fact that Lloyd has been keeping tabs on you for years has nothing to do with it… or does it?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Word Count: 7.7K

Warnings: DUBCON (alcohol use/manipulation); INCREDIBLY unsafe/unhealthy/deadass wrong BDSM practices (Lloyd doesn’t do safewords or aftercare); plus-sized reader/fatphobia; cheating; degradation; bondage, spanking/whipping, gagging; knife kink; blood kink; CNC roleplay; gunplay; rough oral (m receiving); explicit sex (O,V,A); unprotected sex (Lloyd doesn’t wear condoms, ok?); unwanted pregnancies/abortion; physical intimidation/abuse; general toxicity; Lloyd is a psycho and he’s fucking mean—Dead Dove Do Not Eat! 18+ only, no minors.

Series Masterlist

Part Five

Lloyd leaves you catatonic on the bed, his cum dripping out of your every hole, and makes his way over to the pool house. He’s still there, tied to a chair, his right eye swollen shut and his split lip finally starting to coagulate. By Lloyd’s estimation, he’s got at least two broken ribs, three broken fingers, a dislocated shoulder, and a nasty case of testicular torsion. He’ll probably lose the nut, not that he’s using it much these days.

“Hey there, Mikey,” Lloyd says. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I was doing a bit of entertaining.” Lloyd scooches a chair up next to Michael—slowly, deliberately—and points his Ruger at his stomach. “Now, have you thought any more about the question I asked you earlier?”

“I told you,” Michael says feebly. “I don’t know where my father hid the drive. I just need more time—another week, maybe two, and you’ll have everything you need.”

Lloyd pokes him in the ribs with the muzzle of his gun and Michael winces. “And that would have been fine,” he says, “except you broke my rules.”

Michael’s one good eye goes wide as he looks up at Lloyd. “I didn’t. I-”

“Hope the head was worth it, buddy,” Lloyd says, clapping Michael on his fucked-up shoulder before rising from his seat. “You really should have let her finish. Little wifey sure knows her way around a dick.” Lloyd grabs the laptop off the table and pulls up the video file he’s just uploaded. “Believe me, I know,” he says, and he winks at your husband as he presses play.

Lloyd is near giddy as he forces Michael to watch you get violated on screen. After all, he did give him fair warning this would happen, and it’s what the guy deserves for being such a pain in the ass. It should have taken a month tops for Michael to collect the evidence on his father, but the guy is just such a wimp—too intimidated to stand up to his old man, too scared to go snooping around in his own parents’ house. So Lloyd had come up with a motivational tactic he thought might move things along: he had told your husband in no uncertain terms that if he engaged in any PG-13-and-up activity with you before he’d finished the job, you would be the one to pay for it. But if Lloyd is honest, it was less about getting the intel and more that he’d really just wanted to see if Michael would listen—if he was really so fucking weak that he’d let another man tell him if and when he could fuck his own wife.

If you were his wife, Lloyd thinks, there isn’t a person in the world—including you—that could stop him from fucking you whenever and wherever he wanted. But this loser you married? It took him six months to break, and even then he was too much of a pussy to stick his dick down your throat and take what was his; you’d practically forced yourself on him and still he could barely get it up. And then he fucking cries? Lloyd chuckles every time he thinks about it: watching you through your home security cameras, giving your husband one last chance to prove he’s worth a damn, down on your knees in your pretty little dress with your tits out, begging your own husband to want you. It was so fucking pathetic.

But you’d stuck to your guns in the end, told him to fuck off like the worthless piece of shit that he is. Lloyd had known you wanted out, that you have for years—all he’d done was give you a little incentive, just the push you needed to remember that you may have been married to Michael for all these years, but you’d never really been his. Your husband had never owned you—mind, body, and soul; only Lloyd Hansen has that distinction.

Lloyd sits with his hands clasped in his lap, his long legs spread wide in Michael’s direction as the man in front of him curses and weeps at the violent imagery playing on the laptop screen. He wears his most devious smile as he listens to you play the victim, and he watches your husband go through the gamut of human emotions one might expect in this particular circumstance: disgust, fear, anger, despair. If this guy only knew, Lloyd thinks, that this is tame for his wife. Every time Michael tries to look away, Lloyd tsk tsks him and raises his gun and barks, “Keep watching.”

Of course, Michael doesn’t know that you like everything that’s being done to you on that tape, that you asked for it, that you’ve been dreaming about it for years. Maybe if he did, he’d be crying even harder. As it stands, though, Michael is gagging as he watches you swallow Lloyd’s cum, and by the time Lloyd’s got his dick in you, your husband is retching up stomach acid all over his bare chest. His skin has to burn like hell, too, with all the cuts Lloyd had made.

“Turn it off,” Michael begs. “Please.”

“Ohhh, but it’s just about to get really good,” Lloyd says. “You ever fuck her ass, Mikey? I’m willing to bet that you haven’t. Well, let me tell you, It’s like heaven in there.”

“Did you kill her?” he croaks out. “Did you kill my wife?” 

Lloyd just laughs. “She’s fine,” he says. “Better than fine, I would argue. In fact, I think I might keep her—at least until the job is done.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Michael begs. “Please just let her go.”

Lloyd leans in and whispers in Michael’s ear, “Not a chance. She’s just so much fun to play with.”

Lloyd leaves the video on repeat, checking Michael’s wrists and ankles to make sure his binds are secure before locking the pool house back up. The man is already broken, more malleable than he’s ever been, and Lloyd knows this thing could be finished tonight if he let him go—that he’s finally willing to man up and stand up to his father and get the fucking job done—but Lloyd is simply enjoying this too much. Psychological torture isn’t usually Lloyd’s thing, but he’s too close to this one; he wants Michael to suffer in every possible way because he committed the worst crime of all—he took something that doesn’t belong to him.

Walking back towards the house, Lloyd makes a decision. He’s spent months working this guy to get the job done the way the client wants it done—totally under the radar, no casualties—but he’d stopped caring about doing things the right way the second he saw Michael watching that video. What Lloyd wants now, what he needs, is for your husband to know everything, to see everything. He decides he’s going to let his team handle this business with the Senator—send them in quick and dirty, even if that means the old man dies bloody and the client doesn’t get exactly what he wants—because it’s not about the job anymore; it’s about what Lloyd wants, and what Lloyd wants is for your pathetic, weak-willed pussy of a husband to watch you get fucked live and in person so he knows that you are his, always were and always will be, and that there hasn’t been one single hour of one single day where you wouldn’t have chosen him if he’d given you the option.

And, of course, he wants to see the man’s face when you tell him the kid’s not his. That’ll be absolutely delightful.

It’s not that Lloyd feels threatened—how could he? The man is an ant and he is a boot. No, he just wants to see if you’ll do it, if just the chance that Lloyd might want you is enough to get you to cuck your husband and finally tell him the truth. You’ve already left Michael, but are you willing to hurt him? Might you even enjoy it? Is it possible that, deep down, you and Lloyd really are the same?

It’s Lloyd’s last test for you—his most important test—and if you can prove yourself to him then maybe, just maybe, he’ll give you what you’ve always wanted. The kid is a problem, of course, but Lloyd is nothing if not a problem-solver.

First, he decides to give you a little taste of the domestic. He walks back up to the bedroom and finds you freshly showered and wearing the Harvard football jersey—his jersey—that he’d left out for you. He likes you in it, wearing his name and his number: a branding of its own, just not Lloyd’s favorite kind. It pisses him off that you’d tattooed over his initials but he understands. What man would want to fuck a woman with another man’s name carved into her leg? Lloyd gets it, he does, but he’s already planning where he’ll cut you next, what he’ll write. Perhaps a Property of Lloyd Hansen right above your pussy. No, that’s too many letters for knifework, but maybe the tattoo gun…

“Hi,” you say. “Sorry I kind of passed out.”

“S’alright, Porkchop.” He crosses the room with a few purposeful strides and kisses you lightly on top of your head. “I know I gave it to you pretty rough.”

“I liked it,” you say, squinting your eyes and using that husky little voice you do when you want him to know how much you love the pain and how much of it you’re willing to endure for him.

“Oh, I know you did.” He wraps you up in his arms and feels you relax into him. “Now will you come downstairs, actually eat something this time? We’ve got all weekend, you know.”

You look up at him, as surprised as Lloyd expects you to be at his just throwing the invitation out there.

“Really?” you ask.

“Of course,” he replies. “Did you think I was just gonna kick you out? After all this time? No way, Porkchop. I’ve got big plans for you.”

Lloyd runs his thumb across the apple of your cheek and you lean into it and close your eyes. He kisses your forehead and then your lips—those plump, pillow-soft lips that feel so fucking perfect against his own. Lloyd isn’t big on kissing, never has been, unless it’s you. He pulls away because he has to or else he’ll end up back in bed with you. That can’t happen, not right now; he’s got work to do.

“Let’s go eat,” he says, and you follow him down the stairs.

Lloyd lets you reheat the food in the kitchen. He lets you pour him a drink. He lets you make him a plate before making one for yourself. Such a good little wife, so well trained. He knows you would live to serve him and he’d live like a goddamn king if he let you into his life. It really is a shame, though; you’re so much better than this, so much more. You would have made an excellent lawyer—and not a dirtbag, either. You would have done something of substance, something that mattered, something that helped people. You’re so very good at making other people happy.

After you’ve cleared his plate and yours, Lloyd lets you rinse the dishes but tells you to leave the rest. “Come sit with me,” he says. He pours you another glass of wine and takes it, and you, into the living room before making a fire in the oversized stone fireplace.

You’re cradling your glass of wine in both your hands, sitting on the big brown leather couch with your legs tucked under you. You’ve got nothing on under his jersey and it takes all the strength Lloyd can muster not to throw you on the rug in front of the fire and fuck you half blind. But no—not yet. He has some questions he needs to ask you, some things he needs to say.

“So,” he says, poking at the fire and turning around, “tell me about Harrison.”

He watches your eyes light up and your quick attempt to hide it, but of course he clocks it—he was waiting for it.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you say, but not unkindly.

“Well, I am… in my way.” He sits next to you on the couch and places his hand on your bare thigh. “Look, I never wanted to be a dad. You know that. I fucking hate my dad and I’d probably be a far worse one than he was, but… you know… he’s my son. I want to know about him. That is if you want to tell me. I understand if you don’t.”

You smile softly and Lloyd can see your eyes start to water. Hook. Line. Sinker.

“He’s a lot like you, actually,” you begin. “I mean, he looks like you, but it’s not just that. He’s whip-smart and he knows exactly what he wants at all times—has even before he could talk.” You laugh a little, thinking about it. “And he’s a tough kid, maybe a little too tough, honestly, but he’s got a good heart underneath it all. And he’s so sweet when he wants to be.”

“He gets that part from you,” Lloyd says, and you roll your eyes. “What kind of stuff does he like?”

“He loves superhero movies and pepperoni pizza and, of course, football. You’ll be happy to know that he thinks flag football is for ‘wusses’ and he can’t wait until he can play tackle.”

“That’s my boy,” Lloyd says, and he finds himself feeling a surprising surge of pride.

He didn’t think he would actually care about any of this, and he was more than prepared to fake it for your sake, but the more he learns about his son—that there’s a tiny little Lloyd running around out there with that same innate urge to hurt—the more vainglorious he feels. He created this life, forced it into you so that you could push it out into the world and give the universe another Lloyd Hansen. There’s a certain power in that that Lloyd had never, until this very moment, understood or recognized. 

“He’s definitely his father’s son,” you say, searching his eyes for any sign that that means something to him. Lloyd gives you what you’re looking for, of course, and you smile. “He’s gonna get kicked off the team. I swear.”

“Not if I buy off the coach,” Lloyd quips. “So what else?”

“Well,” you continue, “he loves everything about the fall—the leaves and the pumpkin picking and Halloween costumes and candy. He hates me because I don’t let him watch scary movies yet, and he hates me because I make him go to school, which he despises even though he’s the smartest kid in his class.”

“Keep the kid in school, Porkchop. I mean it. Don’t let him grow up to be some degenerate dropout loser.”

“Oh, he’ll stay in school, because he can’t play football if he doesn’t. He’s starting to learn that sometimes you have to suffer for the things that you love.”

“Harsh lesson for a six-year-old,” Lloyd says, taking a deep pull of whiskey.

“Yeah, well, it’s a harsh world.”

Lloyd puts his drink down and turns to face you before grabbing your bare legs and putting them in his lap. “Look, I know you know what I do, that my particular line of work isn’t exactly conducive to being a family man. It’s not that I don’t care. It really isn’t. It’s just… complicated. I mean, you can’t expose a kid to that.”

“I know,” you say. “I understand, I do. I’ve never asked you for anything, Lloyd. I never even told you he was yours.”

“You didn’t have to tell me. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Your eyes drop to your hands in your lap and Lloyd notices, for the first time, that you’ve taken off your wedding ring. “At first,” you say, “but then you just kept popping up and I knew you must know.” You look back up at him, searching his eyes for a truth you’ll never get. “Is that why you’ve been following me? Is it because of Harrison?”

And now, Lloyd thinks, it’s time to lay a few cards on the table: not all of them, of course, but enough to nudge you towards where he wants you—needs you—to be.

Lloyd sighs deep. “I need to tell you something,” he says, “and you’re going to get upset, but I need you to promise me that you’ll just listen to everything I have to say before you freak out, ok?”

Lloyd can smell the fear wafting off you. “You’re scaring me, Lloyd.”

“Good,” he says. “You should be scared. I’ve been trying to protect you from this shit for years, but it’s getting really ugly now and it’s time you knew the truth.”

“Protect me? Protect me from what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Lloyd has decided to give you the broad strokes, taking a bit of creative license where it suits him, and he begins.

“I told you not to marry Michael. I told you his father was a scumbag, but what I didn’t tell you —because I didn’t know then—was that the Senator is a very dangerous man. I always knew he made his money selling secrets. That’s about the worst kept secret in Washington but… you know… selling secrets is a D.C. staple. I thought it might hurt him eventually, but I never thought it would hurt you.”

You sit up straight and turn to him, sitting cross-legged as his jersey rides up your thighs and Lloyd tells himself don’t look, don’t look, focus.

“What do you mean hurt me? What the fuck is going on, Lloyd?”

Lloyd takes your hands in his. “The Senator’s been selling the wrong secrets to the wrong people—high-security intel he shouldn’t even have access to and he’s auctioning it off to the highest bidder—the fucking Russians, no less. But he’s got friends high up in the agency, probably because he’s got dirt on them too, so no one was doing a goddamn thing about it while I was there. But now there’s been a change of the guard, the CIA wanted to move on him, so they brought me in, and that’s when I found out that… well…” Lloyd takes a deep breath and prepares himself to tell the Big Lie, the one you absolutely have to believe if any of this is going to work. “Michael knew. He’s always known. And a lot of his money—your money—it’s from the Russians.”

Lloyd looks you in the eye, daring you to question him, and you find in them what you’ve always found: exactly what he wants you to see. “I don’t understand,” you say, your voice shaky. “He doesn’t work with his father. He barely even talks to the man anymore.”

“That’s what he wants you to think, Porkchop. He doesn’t want you to know that you’re using blood money to send your kid to school and get your fuckin hair done.”

“What do you mean blood money?”

“About a year ago, the Senator sold off the names of a bunch of undercover agents. As of today, there’s only one left alive. The Senator got millions for it. That’s around the same time Michael got that big bonus and you bought your fancy new house, no?”

You bring your hands to your mouth and make a sound that’s not altogether human. “Oh my God,” you say, but you’re not quite ready to believe it. You shake your head. “No, Michael wouldn’t do this. He would never take the money if he knew that people would die because of it. He just… he wouldn’t.”

“He would, Porkchop, and he did. I can show you the paper trail if you want, but that’s not even the worst of it.”

“How can this possibly get any worse, Lloyd?” you ask, and you’ve got that look in your eyes—that fear that Lloyd finds so goddamn addictive. Christ, he can smell it on you. Focus, Lloyd.

“Things can always get worse,” he says, “especially when the Russians are involved. The Senator fucked up this time because he’s a greedy sonofabitch. He smelled that oligarch money and he decided to play the Russians off each other to drive up the price. Let’s just say, these are guys who do not like to lose, and now the losers are pissed, and they’re out for blood—specifically your family’s blood, and they do not give a single fuck who they drain it from. I killed one of them outside your house four months ago, another one outside Harrison’s school his first day back, but they just keep coming, Porkchop, and you know I’d kill a fucking army of men for you but they’ll just keep sending more unless Michael gets me what I need.”

Lloyd can see your hands trembling a bit as your mouth drops open. “You… you killed someone… for me?”

Lloyd takes a sip of his drink and puts the glass back down on the coffee table. “Technically, I’ve killed 23 people for you over the past 14 months, but who’s counting? That’s not the point. The point is that”—he grabs your hands again and stills them—”and I need you to just listen here and don’t get mad, I’ve been trying to work with your husband for a little while now, to get him to help me help the government take control of this situation, to get back the intel the Senator has and get him to turn himself in. And they’ll take it easy on Michael if he cooperates, but he won’t.”

You snatch your hands back from him and straighten your spine. “You’ve been working with my husband?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow at him. “For how long?”

“A couple of months,” Lloyd says, “it doesn’t matter. What matters is-”

“How long, Lloyd? Exactly.” 

He can see in your eyes that you already know the answer. You always were too smart for your own good.

“Six months, but-”

You push away from him, to the other end of the couch, and you drop your head into your hands. “I should have known. Fuck. I should have fucking known you had something to do with this.” You stand up and start pacing back and forth between the couch and the fireplace, cursing under your breath, before you turn back to him, “Is any of this even true? Or did you just wake up one day and decide, ‘Hey, I’m gonna go threaten Michael so he’s too fucking scared to fuck his own wife and then she’ll come crawling back to me like she always does because she’s so goddamn predictable.’” You grab your wine glass and finish the contents in one gulp. “I’m such an idiot. I’m so fucking stu-”

Lloyd rises quickly and you stop speaking, backing away from him as he walks toward you. He takes the glass from your hand, setting it down next to his, and then he grabs your wrists—not as roughly as he could, but not gentle either.

“I didn’t fucking ask for this, ok? Six months ago, my guy at the CIA comes to me and tells me your fucking husband is dirty, hands me a fat paycheck, and tells me to turn the guy, so that’s what I’m gonna do. That’s my fucking job. And you know what? I’m glad he came to me with it, because there’s no one else on Earth that will do more to protect you, to keep you safe, to keep Harrison safe. You think I wanted this?” He drops your hands and runs a hand through his hair. “You think I wanted to have to go see your piece of shit husband every goddamn week knowing that he goes home to my girl and my son? Please. I didn’t fucking ask for this. I told you not to marry him. I told you what would happen if you did and guess what, Porkchop? I was wrong, because this is waaaay fucking worse. So, really, you should be on your goddamn knees thanking me because if they hadn’t come to me, all of you would be in the fuckin ground by now.”

“I- I don’t…” Lloyd can see your mind racing, trying to sort through the infodump he just unloaded on you—to make sense of it, to catch him in a lie or find any evidence whatsoever that the things he’s telling you are untrue. You won’t, of course, and a lot of it is true; you just don’t need to know which parts. “What happens next?” you ask.

“My guys are… let’s just say working with Michael as we speak,” Lloyd replies. “They snatched him up from some shitty motel, and it’s a good thing they did because the Russians tailed him from your house Wednesday night.”

“Th- they were there?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Porkchop,” he says, cupping your cheek. “They are always there.”

“What about Harrison? My parents? Are they-”

“I have people on your parents’ house. They’re not going to touch a goddamn hair on the kid’s head, I promise you that. I may not be Dad material, but I’m not gonna let anyone hurt my son.”

You’re crying now and Lloyd can feel his cock starting to stir in his pants. He wants to grab your face and lick the tears off your cheek. Fucking focus, Lloyd. Christ. 

“I need Michael to cooperate, to get us the information we need so we can figure out who exactly we are dealing with overseas. I can’t stop these guys for good if I don’t know who’s sending them.”

“Well, I’m sure your guys have ways of making people cooperate.” You shudder after you say it, not wanting to let yourself think too hard about what those methods might be. “I can’t imagine Michael would last long under that kind of pressure. I’m shocked he didn’t fold the second you walked through his door.” Lloyd can see it occur to you in real-time that your husband—your weak, spineless loser of a husband—has avoided any real repercussions for months. You look up at him, staring daggers into his eyes. “Why is that, exactly? Why didn’t you make him cooperate months ago?”

Lloyd has been waiting for this question. “I could have,” he says. “Fuck knows I wanted to, but the agency wanted it done clean and my methods are… messy.”

“I don’t believe you,” you yell. “You could have ended this ages ago, but you kept it going. You let me stay in the line of fire for months, Lloyd. Why?”

“I would never have let anything happen to you,” Lloyd replies, and that’s the God’s honest truth. “But… I will admit to having some ulterior motives.”

You roll your eyes and throw up your hands. “Of fucking course you do. You always do. What kind of sick game are you playing? This is life and death shit and you’re playing your fucking games?”

Lloyd takes a deep breath and grabs your shoulders. “I just… I needed to know,’ he says.

“Needed to know what?”

“That you don’t love him anymore. That you really wanted out. So, yeah, maybe I threatened him, told him not to fuck you just to see if that would speed up the process. Because if that was me, Porkchop—if you were my wife and some asshole came into my office and told me not to touch you, I wouldn’t last a fucking day. I’d go home that night and fuck you harder because of it. But this guy? This fucking loser you married?” Lloyd scoffs. “I needed you to finally see it, ok? To see what I have always seen—that he’s weak, a fucking coward, that he’s not good enough for you or strong enough for you.”

“And then what?” you snap. “I leave him and you show up and then what, Lloyd?”

“Then maybe… I don’t know…  I don’t know, ok?”

“You’re the coward,” you shout. Your palms connect with Lloyd’s chest and he lets you push him away. “You’re the weak one. All of this shit you pulled and you still can’t fucking say it.”

Lloyd stares you down, watching your chest rise and fall beneath his jersey. Goddammit, you look so fucking sexy when you’re angry, but he’s so close now. He stalks toward you and grabs your neck, shoving you up against the wall and trapping you there—a caged animal, ready to strike. He’s never seen you this angry; you’ve never allowed yourself to show him this side of you—because he’s never allowed you to—and Lloyd is enjoying it a little too much. He wants to punish you for it, for your insubordination, for daring to question him, but he needs you angry—just not at him. 

Lloyd puts just the right amount of pressure on your carotid artery and presses his forehead to yours. “Call me weak again, Porkchop. Go on. Keep talking your shit, see what happens.”

Your eyelids flutter. He knows how much you love this grip, what it does to you, how stupid you go in his hands. But are you stupid enough to believe him, to trust him, to do exactly what he wants despite everything he’s done to you?

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze. “I didn’t mean it.”

Lloyd smiles. Yes, yes you are.

“All I’m trying to do is keep you safe, Porkchop.” He releases some of the pressure on your neck and you gasp for breath as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip. “I need you to work with me here, not against me.”

“Wh- what do you need me to do?” you ask. 

I need you to pass your final exam, Lloyd thinks.

“I need you to listen very closely,” he says, “and do exactly what I say.”

***

Your mind is racing as you wait for Lloyd in the strange bed. You didn’t believe him at first, thought it was just some cruel joke he was playing, but he showed you the evidence—photos and bank statements and all sorts of shit that had your head swimming as the reality of it hit home: Michael knew, he was involved, he profited. Your husband—your sweet, gentle, honest husband—is an enemy of the state.

And that should have been the worst of it, but Lloyd saved the actual worst for last: a video recording of the two of them in Michael’s office a few weeks ago, with your husband telling Lloyd that he didn’t care about you anymore—that there was no point in going after you because he was going to leave you anyway. 

But, if you’re honest, you didn’t need to see or hear any of that. Even before you learned that Lloyd had killed for you, you were already all in. Seeing the look in Lloyd’s eyes when he finally said the words “my son”—you could have cried because the last thing in the world you were expecting was for Lloyd Hansen to actually care. He tried to hide it but you could see it on his face; he was emotional (as emotional as Lloyd Hansen gets, anyway) and you’d decided then and there that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to put your family—your real family—back together. 

And he’s finally admitted, in his way, that he wants you. He won’t say it, of course, but he was so close to admitting that he has real feelings for you, that you’re more than just a fucktoy for him to play with, that you’re still his special girl. And so you’d agreed to do what he asked you to do—horrible as it is—because you truly believe that if you do it, he’ll finally admit the truth: that he loves you and he’s always loved you, that he’s ready to make you a real part of his life. There is nothing Lloyd Hansen could ask you to do that was too much, no line you wouldn’t cross, if it meant he would finally make you his.

You’ve got no love left for Michael anyway. He lied to you, he put you and Harrison in danger, and (if you’re honest) Lloyd is right: he’s weak, he’s a coward, and he’s not strong enough for you. You don’t want to hurt him but you know you have no choice. Lloyd explained that it would be better for him in the end—that this is the push he needs to finally cooperate. Without you, without his son, he’ll finally accept that the jig is up. He’ll finally do the right thing and turn the evidence and his father over to the government.

All this should bother you a hell of a lot more than it does, but you have to admit that it’s exciting. You’re on the verge of a whole new life, though you don’t yet know what that looks like. At this point, any life without Michael in it is looking pretty good to you but the life you really want—the life you’ve always wanted—is so close you can taste it. So close, in fact, that it’s currently stripping naked and crawling into bed with you.

The bed dips with Lloyd’s weight and then he’s next to you, one arm around your waist and his head perched atop yours. “All set,” he says. “I’ve got some of my guys at your house. They’ll bring by your and Harrison’s things in the morning. You can’t go back there—neither of you—until this is over.”

“And Michael?” you ask.

“They’ll bring him by, too.”

“Are you sure there isn’t another way?” you ask.

“I’m sure,” he replies. “If he was gonna break, he would have. My guys worked him over pretty good.”

You should feel something when he says this—some disgust, some horror, some sympathy pain—but you don’t. You feel cold and hard and angry. You feel like he did this to himself, that he deserves whatever nightmare he’s currently living at the hands of Hansen Government Services.

“And you think… if we do this… it’ll break him?”

“Oh, Porkchop, I know it will.”

Lloyd runs his hand down your thigh as he kisses your neck, finding your pulse point and sucking a bruise into it. You missed his marks; you want to be littered with them. Your legs open for him and his fingers work their magic on you as he nibbles and sucks at your tits. He’s not as vicious as he usually is—he’s not breaking the skin; he’s almost gentle with you and between this unexpected softness and the feeling of his mustache on the sensitive flesh of your breasts, you're so worked up that you’re already arching your back and yanking at his hair.

“Oh, God, Lloyd. Fuck me. Do whatever you want, I don’t care, just please fuck me.”

Lloyd chuckles against your skin, your nipple still in his mouth, and says, “Whatever I want?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop and smiles up at you. “What I want is to eat your sweet cunt until you cry. Haven’t gotten a taste yet, Porkchop, and I’m fuckin starving for it.”

“It’s yours,” you moan.

“Oh, I know it is.”

Lloyd kisses and sucks his way down your body until he reaches your center, and he shoves his big nose against your clit and his stache against your pussy and he inhales deep. “Fuck me,” he says, and you feel his deep voice rumbling against your most sensitive flesh. “You smell so fuckin good.” He peers up at you from between your thighs and he cocks his head. “Haven’t eaten you out with the flavor savor yet.”

A giggle erupts from the back of your throat and you clasp your hand over your mouth to stop it. You look down at Lloyd, waiting for his expression to go from mirth to malice, but he doesn’t shift.

“What, you don’t like it?” he asks.

“I do,” you say, still trying to keep the giggles at bay. “I love it.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You want a mustache ride, Porkchop?”

Now it’s pointless to try and stop from laughing, but Lloyd isn’t angry; he’s ravenous. He’s gripping your thighs in his big hands and running his tongue and his teeth up and down them, lightly grazing your clit as he moves from one side to the other and back and forth and back and forth until you’re dizzy.

“Please,” you whimper, so needy to feel his tongue where you need it most.

Suddenly Lloyd releases you and crawls up to the head of the bed, and you’re too distracted by the bounce of his hard heavy cock to even whine at him for teasing you. But you should have known: Lloyd Hansen always gets his before you get yours. You shift your body, ready to suck the soul out of his dick, but when you move to take him in your hand, he stops you.

“Sit on my face,” he commands.

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck on and strap the fuck in.”

Well, this is new, you think to yourself. Lloyd had never once let you get on top of him unless you were riding his dick. You look him in the eyes, trying to ascertain whether he’s fucking with you or not, but you can see he’s serious even before he snaps, “Sit. On. My. Fucking. Face. Now.”

You don’t have to be told twice, and you throw one leg over Lloyd and straddle him, grinding your soaked pussy against his length and dragging a long hiss out of him.

“That’s not my face, Porkchop,” he says. “But if you’d rather ride my dick…”

“Later,” you say, and you move up his body until you’re hovering over his face.

“I said sit, goddammit.”

Lloyd grabs you and pulls your full weight down on him as he starts to devour your pussy from below. You hold on to the headboard and try to pull off of him a bit but he grabs your hips and holds you down tight against his face. As he pushes and pulls you, he’s got his nose grinding rhythmically against your clit and that fucking mustache is doing something indescribable to you as he fucks you with his long, thick tongue.

“Yes,” you cry out. “Oh fuck. You feel so fucking good. Don’t stop.”

Lloyd just growls into your pussy before sticking his tongue all the way out and sliding your body against it. You’ve got one hand on the headboard to brace yourself as the other tugs at his hair. You allow yourself to pull a little harder than you normally would, and when you give it a nice hard pull on one particularly satisfying swipe of his tongue, he fucking moans—it’s that same moan he does when he’s in the throes of an intense fuck, when he reaches the point of no return and he couldn’t tear himself out of your pussy if there was a gun to his head. You could have cum just from that sound, but luckily you don’t have to because he’s got you so fucking close with his tongue.

He lifts you off him briefly, telling you, “Cum all over my fuckin face. Do it,” before getting back to work, and within seconds you’re calling out his name as you gush all over his chin.

“Mmm,” he grunts, “so fucking juicy.” He lifts and guides you off of him and you lay next to him on the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “Now clean up your mess.”

You grab Lloyd’s face in both your hands and bring it down to yours and you lap at his chin and his lips, tasting yourself on his skin as he stares you down.

“Leave the mustache,” he says. “I want to smell you for days.”

You smile and he opens his mouth to let your tongue inside, and he kisses you soft and slow and deep until your absolutely aching for him.

You pull out of the kiss. “Need you inside me, Lloyd.”

“And I need to be there,” he replies, “but I can’t decide how I want my pussy served.”

“Anything,” you moan. “Just fuck me.”

“Alright,” he says. “All fours, ass up. Get moving.”

You hop to it quick as can be, and before you can back it up for him, he grabs your hips and digs his fingers in deep and he pulls you back until your ass smacks his lower stomach. You can feel his cock hot and hard in your hand as you reach between your legs and position him just right, and when he snaps his hips and enters you with one punishing thrust, it knocks the wind out of you.

He palms your ass cheeks hard as he fucks you from behind and God you want him to hit you, and somehow he just knows because he starts to spank you—one hard smack for every four thrusts, alternating sides until your ass is fucking burning and your eyes are watering. He reaches down and grabs your throat and pulls you upright, fucking up into you as he squeezes the sides of your neck. His other hand rubs violent circles on your clit as you start to shake in his arms.

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s my girl. Cum all over this dick—your dick. Come on. You can do it, Porkchop.”

You lean your head all the way back so you can look at him, and you expect to see his cold shark eyes staring back at you. But what you see is something different: his eyes are almost soft and his brow is furrowed and he’s slack-jawed and he looks almost… is that loving?

You cum almost instantly the second his eyes lock onto yours, and you don’t let your eyes flutter closed and you don’t blink because all you want is to watch him watching you come undone on his cock. You want him to see in your eyes how much you love it, how much you love him, but most of all you don’t want to miss one nanosecond of this look that he’s giving you. He’s never looked at you like this before. You clench down hard on him once you regain control of your muscles because you want to see his face when you do.

“Oh fuck. You are squeezing the fuck out of me, Porkchop. Gonna make me cum.”

“Do it,” you say.

“Not yet.” He pulls out quick and you’re clenching around nothing, missing the feel of him deep inside you and it’s only been two seconds. He pushes you forward and you bounce on the mattress. “Turn around. I’m goin deep.”

The second you’re on your back, Lloyd grabs your ankles and throws them up on his shoulders before pressing your legs back and entering you again. It’s your favorite position and he knows it—you never feel more full of him, never feel him deeper inside you, than when he fucks you like this. He’s going deep but surprisingly slow; his thrusts are softer than usual and he’s taking extra care to roll his hips just right so that he’s hitting your spot with every slow silky drag of his cock. You are so fucking wet—almost too wet—and all you can hear is the creamy sound of your own pussy and Lloyd’s moans as he fucks you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Need you to cum again. Can you cum again, baby? Can you cum for me?”

You clench involuntarily when he calls you baby. He hasn’t called you that since the first time he fucked you. After that, it was all slut and whore and bitch—and you like that, you do, but baby… baby is different. Everything about this feels different.

“Yes,” you say. “I’ll cum for you. I always fucking cum for you.”

“That’s cause you’re my special girl. My perfect girl. Oh fuck, baby, please I’m so close.”

“Harder,” you say, and he does what you command, fucking you deep and rough while he kisses you soft and gentle. The dueling sensations have your head swimming and it doesn’t take long before you’re close.

“I’m gonna cum. Cum with me?” you ask, and you know you sound meek and desperate but you don’t fucking care because the way he’s looking at you…

“You want me to cum with you, baby?” he asks, and you nod.

He puts both his hands on your head and you know he could crack your skull open like a watermelon with them but he’s not squeezing hard—just using you for purchase as he pistons his hips and hits you hard and deep, just the way he likes.

“Oh fuck. Oh, baby. I’m gonna cum.” He lets out a high-pitched grunt as he tries to hold it back, to wait for you, but you’re right there with him. “I fucking love your pussy. I.. I… fuck… I love you. I fucking love you.”

You’ve never cum harder in your life. Just those words and your whole body is shaking and trembling and you’re crying out to him, telling him how much you love him as he shudders and spills himself inside of you. You revel in the feel of his dick twitching inside your walls, clenching down on him hard and holding him inside as you take in your favorite sight in the world: Lloyd Hansen, fucked-out and blissed-out—and finally, after all these years, in love.

He’s laying on top of you, still inside as he goes soft, and a tiny smile is playing at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t ask if I meant it,” he says, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “I think you know that I do.”

But you would never have questioned him. Lloyd Hansen doesn’t just accidentally say I love you when he cums. He also doesn’t cuddle after sex, and he certainly doesn’t fall asleep beside you with his arms wrapped around you.

Except that’s exactly what he’s doing, and while your body is wrung out and spent, you barely get any sleep that night because your mind is on fire and everything is Lloyd.

PART SIX >>>

[ewingstan]

6.8 felt like a big point in the story for me. So it seems like a good point to update my overall impressions on Breakthrough:

I think Victoria is a strong protagonist. That said, Wildbow's strength is character arcs focusing on the protagonists slowly but surely deciding to sacrifice their selfhood in order to make the bastards pay. Victoria already lost her selfhood and got it back, and while its probably too early to really get a sense of it, I don't have any clear expectations of what her arc could be.

Rain has had some of the best writing I've seen from Wildbow and his story has been incredibly engaging. But I don't think I understand Victoria's leap to "he's taken big steps towards becoming a hero" stance. He defended himself against a bunch of people who were trying to kill him. Mama Mathers was gonna send people after him, his clustermates were out for blood, he didn't have a safe group anymore except for Breakthrough (who wanted to fight the guys trying to kill him) and March. Obviously he was gonna help fight, it was his best and only chance to save himself. We haven't really seen him have a chance to do something truly heroic for someone else yet. We probably shouldn't; as much as I like Rain, a recovering Christian Identity member really shouldn't be given a position as a cop.

I'm more excited to see where Kenzie goes than any other character right now (I know her ending isn't great, but we can have good times until then right?) She has the most interesting relationships with every other character and has such an unusual perspective on everything that she consistently elevates any scene she's in.

I know we're still early in but it weirds me out how we still know so little about Chris. He's got an interesting if seemingly hard-to-narrativize powerset, he has a lot of active threads out, and he's gotten my favorite line so far:

(yeah i know its corny. It's still extremely my shit). But we still know pretty much nothing about him besides 1) gets along well with Kenzie and 2) is weirdly eager to throw himself into battle. We knew more about Alec even by this point in Worm. What's this guy's deal?

(I know some of this guy's deal. I don't yet know how we get from here to what I know about this guy's deal).

I feel like Tristan and Byron have been waylaid by the plot for the last few chapters, but I want to get more of them, which I'll take as a good sign.

Ashley is usually the most entertaining character in any scene. Her whole deal is catnip to me. I still think her wanting to go to prison is bullshit.

Sveta is a very fun and engaging character who is clearly meant to be overly naive, but at the same time I feel like the text ends up justifying her opinions too often. The paragon do-gooder voice shouldn't be right too often in a parahumans book, it ends up with too many thematic contradictions between it and Worm. Yeah, her being the moral voice does give her a chance to come out and plainly say the underlying thesis of the work:

But there's still weird issues. The big one for me is still the "Ashley and Rain should turn themselves in" being treated mostly as true; Sveta is treated as naiive for this, but only for believing the justice system is complete enough to process them, not for the belief that "serving time" is a necessary part of cleansing oneself of sin. I mean, Amy going to the birdcage was depicted as useless self-flagellation and running away from responsibility! Taylor doing jailtime was a game she had to go along with to flimsily justify her inclusion on the Wards! Wildbow obviously has put active thought into the theoretical and practical shortcomings of the justice system beforehand, why is it suddenly being sanctified? I'd chalk it down to just being Victoria and Sveta's perspective, but literally nothing is pushing back on it besides Kenzie and Ashley is going out of her way and characterization to agree with it. And I know I'm not gonna get a satisfying answer to this because its one of the things that people bring up as an archetypal problem with Ward, but at the same time I can't just accept "fuck you its ward" as a satisfying explanation! I need answers John! What were you doing with this!

[frostedsketches]

Toasted Marshmallow S'more

Toasted Marshmallow S'more Sandwich-Pie. “Hey dudes! Up for chillaxin and cracking some jokes? No. . . Well why not? You all know when I start joking, you almost always want S'MORE. . ."

Nicknames: Toasted Marshmallow - by everyone. Marshmallow - by everyone. S'more - by Strawberry Sundae. Toast - by some. Toasty - by friends and family. Everything else you can think of - sometimes/rarely.

Parents: Pinkie Pie and Cheese Sandwich

Species: Earth-pony

Age: 20

Voice Claim: Conlon Bonner

Birthday: September 14th ♍

Place of Birth: Ponyville/Ponyville General

Place of Residence: Ponyville/Sugarcube Corner

Special Talent: Standup Comedy/Proformance

Personality: Toasted Marshmallow S'more, being the son of Pinkie and Cheese, is obviously an extremely optimistic, bubbly and friendly guy. Though he proves to be more chilled out than his parents and his slightly younger twin brother, he's still definitely inherited the flouncy, playful and confusing aspects of his mother's Pie Logic, and exhibits his party pony family's excitable tendencies and readiness to jump into any adventure or activity.

He likes to relax with his friends and knows how to enjoy the more easy-going things in life, but never misses the opportunity to plan a party or act as the entertainment, and of course tag along with his friends on adventures, annoying them- and particularly his brother -along the way.

S'more can be annoying. Ever the class-clown, he likes making jokes about many things and engaging in light teasing wether to ponies he already knows or any new face he meets. Most of his comedy is tame and friendly, like a simple joke or maybe a expertly placed pun VERY rarely - don't worry - but a good portion of his sense of humor is playing with emotions and seeing a good reaction from others. He will toy with someone just enough to get under their skin but never does he means any harm from it, if he goes too far he can read the room and know that it's time to stop.

He is kind and considerate when someone is in need of comfort, and he can use his comedic wit to try and make others smile as well. When he teases others it's in hopes of making at least someone witnessing it have a good time about it. Though sometimes somepony just needs quiet comfort instead, this is something he is working on getting better at providing, as it doesn't come as naturally to him as of yet.

He claims and believes himself to be quite the sly dog, though most of his attempts at flirting with mares end up with a scoff or a roll of the eyes from his target followed by them immediately just walking away from him. Every romantic relationship he's ever been in has been short lived, and non-committal, but his desire for a real relationship is always at the back of his mind for every attempt, even though he claims it's just for fun, flirting to get a reaction or to get under their fur - which is also true of it, don't get him wrong - most of the time he really is trying to charm them. Something however is holding him back from sticking to the ponies he actually ends up courting, perhaps even someone who he can't have but nevertheless can't get over. . . .

A party planner, he joins forces with the rest of his family to bring good cheer to their clients, but he specilizes in being the entertainment: Usually he and Strawberry Sundae will collaborate, mixing Toast's jokes with Sundae's pranks, and although they can't stand the others specialties in the show, they do it anyway as their annoyance towards each other comes off to the watchers as part of the act, a big reason why their so popular, the town's ponies love that the emotions seem so real!

Lastly, like his parents, he does love sweet things and his baking ability is decent. He can handle small amounts of sugar. But, if he for some reason consumes more than the smallest of portions, he is extremely prone to powerful, logic-defying sugar rushes. Sugar Rush S'more can either be great fun or dreadfully exhausting to the ponies who have to deal with it, which is usually everypony in a 50 mile radius unless you manage to contain him in an enclosed area, but good luck with that.

Relationships:

Pinkie Pie: Toasted Marshmallow is very close to both his parents, loving them equally, though Pinkie can be. . . a bit much with her affection. She is extremely proud of both her sons and is EXTREMELY loving, to the point that it's embarrassing, always smothering them with affectionate phrases and and gestures in public. Now Marshmallow doesn't hold this against her, she is a good mother and taught him everything she knew about being a Party Pony, helping and encouraging him all his life, so though it's uncomfortable in the moment, he wouldn't trade her for anything.

Cheese Sandwich: Where Pinkie smothers and cheers and is a protective presence, Cheese is usually the one to go to for advice and calmer affection. His father always seems to know what to do in a situation, has the right words to say, shows his love through understanding, praise, and the occasional mane-ruffle. Marshmallow knows that he's heard, understood, and listened to by him no matter what, where Pinkie sometimes rushes into overbearing mama bear mode as soon as she catches wind of a problem. Other than having good talks and a listening ear, Toast loves hanging out with his dad in the usual father/son way and having him in his life . . .also he loves his dad jokes and plans on using them himself one day, they're funny alright?!

Strawberry Sundae: He and Strawberry are extremely close and happy together, though they do get on each other's nerves a LOT, Toasty will annoy him with his jokes, the cocky exterior he sometimes exudes, and pretending to not take things seriously, while Sunny will drop endless pranks and tricks on his head. Toast usually shows his anger with lack of facial expression, sarcasm, and huffiness, while Sundae really gets fired up and loud, exclaming it for all to hear, but past their classic sibling rivalry they do love each other very much and often express their affection when they arn't bickering. S'more takes his role of older brother very seriously despite what others may think.

Scarlet Rosebud: Out of all of their friends, S'more is closest to Rosebud. Their friendship is filled with an assortment of sweet playful banter, a shared love of telling bad jokes, and supporting each other in their wants and worries. Toast always runs his comedy proformances by her before sharing and goes to her for any friendly gossip she picks up. Marshmallow feels pleasantly strange, fuzzy, and extremely happy around her, he always has. . .she is a very pleasant pony to be around after all and they have been friends forever - seriously, they were born on the same day in the rooms across from each other.

Diamond Crest: S'more finds Diamond to be an interesting character, great fun to tease and fascinated with a lot of the things he is. Science and geography, astrology, all of which he dabbles in and enjoys learning about. He has quickly figured out how much fun she is to joke with, she has some of the best reactions out of anyone so he greatly enjoys getting under her fur the most, and though Diamond seems to not appreciate his sense of humor, he knows that she knows it's just his way of showing affection.

Pastel Prismarine: Prismarine is another one of S'more's usual targets. She doesn't get flustered but he takes joy in riling her up, testing her limits just enough as far as he dares, of course he knows not to push TOO far, knowing all to well of her aggressive and unpredictable nature in the past despite attempts to chill herself out recently. Sometimes he has pushed a little too far and she has managed to punch him in the face a few times, which is not pleasant for him at all, but after the first couple times he has learned her limits as said before. They do squabble a lot but also have their moments of understanding, so S'more can't help but see her as his friend, no matter what she might deny.

Honeycrisp: Marshmallow's friendship with Honeycrisp is questionable, they are really more like frienemies, as Marshmallow would put it, or friends of Rosebud's who tolerate each other as Honeycrisp's would put it, which may be more accurate on his end. S'more sees how unbreakable the farmer stallion is and it enlightens him to know that something he does is affective at getting him to react impulsively, do more than stand in stoic control of emotion. He knows Honeycrisp finds him annoying and he does notice how jealous he gets when Marshmallow hangs out one on one with Rosebud, which he is greatly amused by, it's not like he has any intention of trying to steal her away after all, quite the opposite, she obviously likes Honeycrisp and he cares about her too much to get in the way of that. But you might say that Honeycrisp and S'more are warming up to each other -slowly, but they'll get there in time.

Prince Meteorite Star: He has heard of Meteor Star, and has seen him from a far at least once, as he's his honerary cousin, but he hasn't met him in person yet.

Extra:

He can sing and knows how to play the guitar, learning from his Aunt Applejack at a young age.

After getting his cutie-mark in comedic proformances he pushed these talents back to focus on his life's purpose. He's not against playing or singing, he enjoys it and does on his own, it's just not something he really has a use for anymore other than a hobby.

As Pinkie Pie can run as fast as Rainbow Dash can fly, the same goes for Toasted Marshmallow, only he can run as fast as Prism can fly, so he is extremely hard to play tag or race with and you can't really hurt him unless you catch him off guard.

He has a pet pomeranian named Creampuff, she is his fur-baby and comfort animal, having gotten her as a recovery pet to help during a hard time in his early teens.

He dabbles in science and anything pertaining to how the world works like chemistry and astrology/astronomy. Books about these minor interests are the only ones that can keep his attention, because. . .

Toasted Marshmallow has dyslexia :) He can write fine, only occasionally misspelling words and not noticing until it's pointed out to him, and can read fairly well, only having mild wobbling and merging of words on a page when he's in a good mood, which is almost always. He prefers not to read out loud though since that's where he has the most difficulty.

He needs reading glasses for reading and precision as on top of his dyslexic brain processing of words, his vision proves to be a little fuzzy on small or intricate things, something he'd have to deal with even if the words didn't also move and merge. He has colored films that he can put on his glasses to help his dyslexia if need be.

His large array of nicknames has proved to be very confusing to any pony who doesn't know the system.