#evaporate bc of those things...

[bunnihearted]

.

[vermillioncrown]

at the risk of sounding butthurt for talking about not being butthurt: going through quals really prepared me for trawling through fandom meta and research while keeping my zen

[deus-ex-mona]

here’s to hoping for a ✨better✨ next week… _(:3 」∠)_

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hype!!!! For your 1k follower party - fic prompt request!!!

G, 💐, 🥰 and 🍎 These were so hard to pick omg Congrats again to you!!! 💖😊🫂

Kei, thank you so much!! This was a delight to write, all the more bc you offered to draw a little something to go with it!! Everyone, look at the beautiful art @firefly-party has created to go with this little ficlet! 🌸💖😍

The language of flowers

Words: 1000

Rated: T

Tags: Meet cute; Flower shop AU; Bookstore AU; Background Buckingham; Platonic Stobin; Platonic Hellcheer; Flirting; Horny disaster Eddie Munson

“Chrissy, we have to make a decision.” 

Chrissy stops stirring her cold coffee, tearing her eyes away from the bookstore across the street. Or more precisely the owner, who has just stepped outside with an armful of magazines. Eddie watches how she blinks at him, futilely trying to return to their conversation, and sighs. 

“Ever since that place opened, it's like I'm talking at a wall. A pining, sighing, exorbitantly gay wall. Either, we find a new coffee place…” 

Chrissy’s eyes widen. 

“... or you'll need to ask bookstore chick out.” 

The shock on Chrissy’s face morphs into horror. 

“What?” she squeaks. “No way, I'm not doing that. Have you seen her? She's dreamy, she probably has people queuing up left and right.”

On the other side of the street, dreamy bookstore chick trips over her own shoelaces, sending the magazines flying all around her. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Anyhow. Just walk over, ask about the merchandise. Use your charme, get her number.” 

Chrissy scowls. “You say that like it’s easy.” 

“Because it is,” Eddie laughs. “I could do it right now.” 

“Oh, yes? Go ahead.” Chrissy quirks a brow, gesturing at the flower shop next to the café. “If you can walk over and get a random employee’s number, I’ll to ask out bookstore chick. If not, you pay for our coffee.” 

“Oh, it’s on,” Eddie cackles, sliding out of his chair and prancing over to the flower shop. “Watch and learn!” 

He lets his gaze sweep, scanning the employees in the green polos milling about between the flowers. He’s just thinking that all of them are either decidedly too old or decidedly too female when he spots him. He has his back turned, so all Eddie can see of him is a shock of chestnut hair, streaked gold from the sunlight. That, and the polo stretching over the muscles of his shoulders and arms as he bends over the colorful bouquets. Eddie feels his mouth tug into a grin as he saunters closer. That one's perfect.

“Excuse me,” he starts to say. “I'm wondering-” 

The guy turns. And all words evaporate on Eddie’s tongue. 

He was wrong. This one isn't perfect. This one's divine. 

Hazel eyes with gold flecks, brought out by the green shirt. Full, pink lips begging to be kissed. A strong jaw and long neck dotted in moles, like the heavens themselves painted constellations all over the guy’s skin. Eddie is overcome with the sudden, irrational urge to rip off that polo to see if they continue on his chest, maybe trace them with his tongue and teeth. 

“Hi,” says the guy, and even his voice is nice. “Something I can help you with?” 

Eddie thinks there’s many things he’d like this hottie to help him with. 

“Erm …” is what he says. 

Flower shop hottie cocks his head at him and lifts his hand to his mouth. He’s holding an apple, crisp green to match his shirt. It crunches as he takes a bite out of it. Eddie wastes half a brain cell wondering why he's eating at work. The rest ceases functioning over the thin sheen of juice glistening on those lips. Flower shop hottie raises a brow. 

“Flowers,” Eddie croaks after an hour or ten. “I wanna buy flowers.” 

That perfect mouth twitches. “Well, duh. This is a flower shop, y’know?” 

Eddie nods dumbly, wondering if those lips would taste of apples if he licked them.

“Well,” hottie says helpfully, taking another, very unhelpful bite of his apple. “What did you have in mind? Sunflowers would be great for your friend. Bright, cheerful, not overly romantic. Roses for a crush, obviously. Red is the classic, but maybe pink if it's still fresh? Peonies for a more elegant and subtle alternative.” 

Eddie eyes the flowers, the ones with the long stems and dramatic, voluminous blossoms. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Peepo- … Pony- … Those.” 

“Excellent choice,” Hottie beams at him. “They're my favorites.” 

“Cool,” Eddie squawks. “Great. How much are they?” 

“Huh?” says hottie. “No idea, I don't work here.” 

Wait, what? 

Hottie takes in his dumbstruck face, the way Eddie gawks at the green polo - markedly devoid of a company logo or name tag - and smiles.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groans.

Hottie throws his head back and laughs, like Eddie just made the funniest joke in the world. 

“I'm on my lunch break,” he then explains. “I own the bookstore. Well, co-own. And, speaking of which…” 

Eddie flinches as the half-eaten apple is pressed into his hand, but hottie gestures at him to wait, so he does. The amount of things he'd do for this guy is quite frankly alarming, and he's only known him for a few minutes. 

Hottie fumbles around in his back pocket for a second, finally emerging with a pen. 

“Overheard your little bet,” he says, pulling Eddie’s free hand towards himself. It tickles as he scribbles something onto the his arm and Eddie needs to hold back an undignified snort. “Not the coolest of moves, but if Robin rants at me about your cute little friend one more time, I'll club her to death with a book. So here you go.”

He steps back, snatching the apple and taking another bite while Eddie peers down at his arm. There's a number on it, and a name above that. 

Steve. 

“You don't work here, though,” Eddie blurts. “I didn't win the bet, strictly-” 

“You want this to continue for another month or five?” 

Eddie follows Steve’s nod to see Chrissy gazing forlornly at the front of the bookstore and winces. 

Steve chuckles and nudges him towards her. 

“Go on, then. Put us all out of our misery.” 

Eddie has already started walking when something occurs to him.

“Is this your actual number?” he asks, flapping his arm up and down. “Or did you make it up?” 

“Why don't you try it and find out?” Steve winks at him. “I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other either way.” 

Congrats, Eddie, you've just acquired your very own bookstore hottie!

More celebration ficlets

[whatsnewalycat]

mindfuck

Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: Dave hypnotizes you.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2.8k+

Warnings: hypnokink, not entirely good praxis of hypnosis, humiliation, implied infidelity, praise, smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, dom dave, literal mind fucking so like a bit of body horror get into it

Notes: For @iamasaddie kinky May writing challenge. Prompt was hypnosis + Dave York. I found a lot of inspiration for this from a post in r/EroticHypnosis about mindfucking (can find again if anyone wants the link - lemme know!). Posting this in a hurry bc I am late to a thing so hopefully not tooooo many missed mistakes. OK THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

[ my masterlist ]

-------

All your life you wished you could turn off your thoughts at will. 

Growing up, on those nights where your crowded head wouldn’t let you sleep, you would imagine twisting off the top of your skull like a jar lid and plopping your brain on the nightstand. It even worked sometimes, too, if you tried hard to convince yourself. When reminders of an upcoming math test or images of that cute boy in class crept into your purview, they had nowhere to go. They evaporated, and you slept. 

Dave says you’re too smart for your own good. Sometimes when you’re lost in thought, he tells you he wants to empty that pretty little head of yours. Not in a condescending way, although you can see how someone might interpret it like that. 

What he means is that he wants you to be with him when you’re with him. What he means is that he wants you to be present. Not thinking about the past or the future. Not reminding yourself of deadlines or analyzing the data stored in your brain or wondering what you mean to him exactly. 

The first time he suggested hypnosis, you balked. Even after he explained how it worked, you were hesitant enough for him to drop the subject. 

When he brought it up again, though, your skepticism swayed. You asked him for more details, so he dispensed the pros and cons and the step process. He could do it for you, he said. He knew how. He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. 

So you did. 

And you do. 

Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays. This isn’t the only one-on-one time he dedicates to you, but it’s by far the most reliable. He doesn’t always hypnotize you, either. 

Regardless of whether he puts you in a trance or not, this standing date always starts the same. He slips you the keycard at some point throughout the day, only after he’s adorned it with a vase full of seasonal blooms and laid out something for you to wear. 

Tonight he left you lilacs and matching lingerie. Intricate floral appliqués embellish the pastel nightie he laid out on the bed. 

Opulence becomes you when you slip it on and pour a glass of champagne from the bottle Dave left to chill on ice. You mosey around the spacious high-end suite, sipping frosty bubbles as you admire the birds-eye view of downtown, the tall buildings and bustling city life all drenched in golden light from the setting sun. 

As the time nears eight o’clock, you empty your champagne flute and make yourself comfortable on the plush bed. Crystals hanging from the chandelier fragment soft white light into dazzling tiny spectrums, sparkling rainbow when the door to the suite opens, then closes. 

Dave enters the room with an air of authority that makes you straighten your spine and draw back your shoulders. After chucking off his jacket, he empties his pockets on the dresser and loosens his tie, then turns around to meet your gaze. 

His stern expression melts as he looks you over, seeming to appraise how your body fills out the lilac nightie. Heat sparks in the middle of you when he greets you, “Hey beautiful.” 

“Hi.” 

He approaches your side and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Comfortable?” 

Nodding, you sit up to pull him in for a kiss. His plush lips respond without hesitation, firm but generous as he slips a wide palm around your body and brings you even closer. 

When he pulls back, he asks, “Are you ready?” 

“Ready.” 

He cradles your jaw, searching your face with blatant admiration before separating his body from yours. You lay back into the soft embrace of the pillows and wiggle around until you find the sweet spot of comfort while Dave drags an armchair to your bedside and sits down. Once you’re both settled and still, he begins. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You close them. 

“Take a deep breath in…”

You take in air until you can’t. 

“…and slowly release it.” 

You exhale, rationing your metered breath through a straw-sized ‘o’ formed by your lips. 

“Good. Take a deep breath in… two three four… and slowly release it. Deep breath in… two three four… now slowly release it.”

Behind closed lids, you concentrate on the rhythmic ebb and flow of your lungs contracting and expanding. His warm voice surrounds you. Envelops you. 

“That’s it. Keep breathing just like this. Each time you inhale, draw the life from your breath, and exhale the rest. Notice how cleansing it feels to let it go. How the tension melts from your muscles every time you take a deep breath in…”

You inhale. 

“…two three four…” 

Hold it. 

“…and slowly release it.” 

Then exhale.

“Perfect. Keep doing that. Now imagine that every time you take a deep breath in, a warm wave washes over you… and as you slowly release it, the tide carries away tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax…”

Each big lungful heats the tar holding your body together. You dissolve into the mattress as Dave’s deep, honeyed voice resonates through you. 

“Again, take a deep breath in as the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… and slowly release it as the tide carries away your tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax. Concentrate on my voice. Recognize it as a touchstone. If your mind starts to wander, have it return to the touchstone, return to my voice, and relax even deeper.” 

Trees tower above you, stretching high into the pale blue sky. The moss-covered rock before you glows as he speaks. 

“Notice how relaxed you feel. Notice that every time the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… tension melts from your body as you allow yourself to sink deeper and deeper into the sensation. Allow the relaxation to seep from your muscles into your bloodstream… to course through your veins and calm every cell in your body.

“Focus on your face. All those tiny little muscles in your forehead and around your eyes, notice how relaxed they are. Notice how the relaxation melts the muscles in your cheeks and jaw, letting your mouth go slack. You might feel as though you want to speak, but find yourself so relaxed that you can’t. That’s ok, because it feels good and safe to let the words dissolve on your tongue. Doesn’t it?” 

When you try to respond, your lips don’t move. This fact doesn’t bother you. It feels good and safe in the forest, staring up at the treetops. 

You realize you’re floating in a pond. You hear birds peacefully chirping and know it’s just you and them and the touchstone for a million miles. 

Everything feels profound, but simple. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace. 

“Doesn’t it feel so good to relax, darling?” 

Your fingertips rest against the soft moss of the touchstone. 

“Yes, it does,” you tell it. 

It glows with a satisfactory hum that vibrates through you.  

“Perfect. Continue to focus on my voice. Soon, I will ask you to open your eyes, then close them. When you close your eyes, you’ll notice a warm wave of relaxation washing over you, turning knots into snarls and snarls into strands, every muscle in your body gently untangling as you allow them to go limp and heavy…”

You understand and follow his instructions. 

“Open your eyes and take a deep breath in, two three four… and slowly release it, closing your eyes, letting the warm wave wash over you and pull you in deeper. 

“Soon, I’ll ask you to open your eyes again. When you close them, you’ll notice the warm wave of relaxation wash over you even stronger than before, pulling you even deeper. 

“Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes, sinking deeper and deeper. Good job. We’ll do it one more time, and when you close your eyes and relax, sink as deep as you can, all the way to the bottom. Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes.” 

You’re lying in a meadow of wildflowers outside the forest, looking up at the serene blue sky. The earth beneath you is solid and brings you an immense sense of comfort. 

“I want you to think about desire. Think about that warm, lush longing inside you. Concentrate on how good this sensation feels in your body, pleasure swelling thick at the center of you.”

His voice surrounds you, but you don’t see its source. The soothing timbre resonates from the wildflowers and the earth and the sky, from everywhere and nowhere all at once like how you imagine God sounded to Old Testament prophets. 

You bring your focus to desire. It does feel good. Amazing, actually. Tangible like a glowing ball of heat between your thighs that throbs with each syllable he speaks. 

“Allow the sensation to grow. Let it stretch and pulse and heat your skin. Let your mind empty of everything except this arousal. When thoughts arise, you let them fall away and arousal fills the empty space. You’ll let this happen over and over again until your head is empty of everything but arousal. Do you understand? You can speak now, darling, go ahead and answer.” 

“Yes.” 

“Try it for me.” 

You acknowledge the cognitions that populate your mind. When you think about how you need to put gas in your car, you imagine the reminder dropping away, then imagine the warm wanting glow of desire branching up through your body to take its place. You think about a work project, but it loosens and falls into an abyss. Desire floods the space in its wake, a thick hot liquid that glows with light like lava, spreading to each new vacancy with ease as the thoughts drop from your consciousness. 

“How does it feel?” 

“Good,” you breathe, voice faint on your tingling tongue. 

“Do you like how it feels, being horny and mindless?” 

Your husband’s face appears, taking up your whole mind, then falls away. Rich, bubbling pleasure surges through you to fill the gap. You have to suppress a moan to respond. 

“I like it,” you nod, “Fuck, it feels amazing.” 

“Good girl. Now, you might notice something interesting happen when I ask you a question. You might notice that when I ask you a question, you’ll try to form a thought to answer. When you do this, you’ll feel my cock enter your mind. It’s bigger and harder than you’ve ever seen it, swollen and thick and so fucking ready for you, darling. When you try to form a thought, it pushes forward into the wet hot folds of your brain, severing the connections that typically allow you to think, preventing a response from forming. My cock pulls out, and slowly thrusts forward again, pushing out the thoughts, over and over for as long as you consider a response to my question. It becomes impossible to focus. You might notice that this penetration feels like it would in your pussy. My hard cock rutting in and out, sending waves of arousal through your body, fucking the thoughts from your head. Every time my cock moves, you’ll try to respond but cannot make yourself focus. It feels amazing. You give in to the sensation, allowing it to overtake you completely. When you’re fully saturated with arousal and nothing else, my cock pulls out of your mind.” 

Your skin feels static and warm when you imagine him pushing his smooth, throbbing length into your brain. A shaky whimper croaks in your throat. Your heart thuds heavy within your chest, circulating desire, warm and wet, to every cell in your body. 

“You might notice that when I ask you another question, any attempts at thought or sensations that come up except arousal will be fucked from your head until you surrender to the arousal. It feels good to be dominated in this way. To let pleasure consume your entire being.” 

Licking your lips, you nod to show you understand.  

“Now when I ask you a question, you’ll allow your subconscious to follow my instructions. Are you ready, darling?” 

“Yes.” 

“How was your day?” 

When you try to recall your day and formulate an answer, the tip of his cock pierces the equator of your brain, splitting the hemispheres. He drives forward slowly, steadily, making you moan as he stretches you apart and tears all those delicate tissues that generate thought. Still, you try. 

My day, how was my day…

He drags his cock out, then drives it deeper inside you. 

Day… how was…

Your nerve endings buzz as he pulls out, gooey arousal shines on the shaft of his thick cock. He plunges forward into the hot center of you. You work your hips and whine. You can’t remember what he asked. It doesn’t seem as important as the pleasure clinging to your insides as he fucks you, so you give up. 

His cock pulls out of your mind completely. 

“What’s the weather supposed to be like tomorrow?” 

You consider the question. The tip of him breaches your brain, forcing out forecasts and clouds and sunshine. Fragments return as you attempt to answer again. 

The weather tomorrow…

He pumps in and out of you, obliterating whatever it was he wanted to know. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the insatiable pleasure thrumming through you as he rubs against all your hungry nerves, giving them what they want. 

“Oh my god,” you hear yourself gasp. 

“How often do you think about fucking me?” 

Seeds of embarrassment sprout the tender beginnings of thought, then he fucks them out of your head until you’re rolling your hips, moaning and nodding for more. 

“Do you make yourself come when you think about fucking me?” 

Only a loading screen appears before he’s inside you again. His perfect, thick cock pumps you full of this throbbing heat. You wish it would never end. You want to feel this and only this forever. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So horny and mindless for me. Letting my cock push deep and hard into the folds of your brain, fucking out all your thoughts, leaving your head empty to stuff you with arousal until you’re swollen and ripe, nothing else left but how fucking horny you are.” 

“Sssooooo fucking gooood,” you slur. 

“How would your husband feel if he saw you like this? In this hotel room, all dressed up in lingerie I bought for you, moaning and writhing on the bed?” 

A thought starts, and he pounds it out of you, merciless in its rhythm as each thrust pushes you higher and higher. Horny and mindless, that’s all you are. Nothing matters except this.

“Do you really think we’ll run away together? Do you really think I’d leave my wife for you?” 

A rotten sensation tingles in your chest before you feel him enter you from both ends, the cock in your mind working in tandem with the cock in your pussy. You choke out a moan and nod, body vibrating with a thick, hot sensation you can’t find the beginning or end of. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, holy fuck—” 

He groans, rolling his hips faster, fucking your entire being so hard and fast that you become pleasure itself. It’s everything and everywhere for eternity and you gladly accept this fact, wanting to forever exist in this moment. 

“That’s so good, darling. So fucking good. You want me to let you come, don’t you?” 

You nod frantically as the edges of you start to fray.

“Go ahead, come for me.” 

His permission completely unravels you, ripping away the last delicate thread holding you together. You sob as you fall apart into a thousand pieces. His hips stutter and he moans, giving you a few deep thrusts before pulling out. 

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. You float in the peaceful pond, staring up at the towering treetops that kiss the sky. 

“Now in a minute, I’ll bring you back to your normal state. When I count to four and tell you to wake up, you’ll come out of the trance relaxed and refreshed. Your mind will feel spotless. You’ll know that I adore you and hold you close to my heart.”

You hear birds peacefully chirping. You know it’s just you and them and Dave for a million miles. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace. 

“And one two three four… wake up.”

[callme-holly]

Yoo, like the fic you did of tim in readers house, and shes trying to get him out.

could you possibly do maybe a blurb or fic of having two-bit in readers rrom and them getting caught with their clothes still off? But they didnt do anything, they were just changing and readers brothers (curtis's) think they did smth🤨🤔😏😏

In reality they were just cuddling (as a couple not besties) and two-bit gets chases out the house, and reader is super embarrased.

I think this would be a really funny fix, LMAOO

Then at the end reader is SUPER embarrased, and they both get teased by thr gang in the afternoon. (bc this is in the mroning, like the tim sitch)

if you dont wanna do this ask, its alr!! Love ur work btw!!♥♥♥

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐨 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 [𝐭𝐰𝐨-𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which two-bit mathews isn't the most subtle boyfriend

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - it's been a little while but i'm back ya'll. kinda considering going on a long break bc i was unsure if anybody actually read my shit but im in too deep now!! asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.4k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing

A cool breeze swept in through your open window, and the sun was already high in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched from corner to corner of the bedroom. The curtains are open just enough for a ray of light to slip through, warming the sleep-rumpled sheets pooled around you. 

Beside you, with his arm draped lazily around your waist, lies Two-Bit Mathews, his rust-coloured hair sticking up at a variety of odd angles, his lips parted ever so slightly as he sleeps soundly. He looks unusually peaceful, and you take a second to admire him, gently tracing the freckles dusted across his bare shoulders with the pads of your fingers. There’s a small scar just above his brow, barely visible beneath the messy strands covering it, but you know it’s there all the same. It’s just one of the many things that you find yourself loving. 

Carefully, you brush his hair back into place and press your lips to his forehead, hoping to wake him before your brothers get out of bed and inevitably come knocking at your door. A soft groan rumbles through his chest, and you can see his eyes flutter open for a fleeting moment, bleary blue irises meeting yours as he tries to process where exactly he is. Then those eyes fall shut again, and you sigh heavily, leaning over to shake his shoulder lightly.

“Two, c’mon.” You whisper softly, earning another moan of protest as he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

“Five more minutes,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with sleep and his breath tickling your sensitive skin. It's rare to see him so disoriented, so out of it, and you can’t help but feel amused at his behaviour. 

However, your amusement quickly evaporates when you hear the telltale ring of Darry’s alarm, the sound shrill and piercing as it cuts through the silence. You cringe at the sound. Two-Bit grunts in displeasure, burying his face deeper into your shoulder. 

“It's not fair,” he whines, peering up at you. “How can they be awake already? It's Sunday morning. I want to sleep in.” Despite his words, his hold on you loosens slightly, and he pushes himself up onto his elbow, blinking hard until he focuses on your face, his eyes brightening significantly when he meets your gaze. 

The covers pool loosely around your waist as he shifts, and he immediately notices your bare torso, a broad grin spreading across his features.

“Woah, hey, cover up!” A loud laugh escapes him, and you're quick to slap a hand over his mouth, glaring down at him. 

“Shh, you idiot. Darry will hear you.” Two holds his hands up placatingly, his smile still in place as you pull your hand away, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance at his antics. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a silent apology, one you accept easily, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer. It’s sweet and simple, lasting no longer than a couple of seconds before you break apart, a soft smile playing at your lips. 

Two-bit stretches out beside you, propping his head up on his hand as he watches you intently, an unreadable expression in his eyes. You roll off of the mattress, ignoring the quiet whine of protest you get in response, padding across the room in search of your discarded clothes, which lay in a crumpled pile by the door. 

One glance at the clock tells you you've only got a couple minutes to get your very stubborn and very lazy boyfriend dressed and out of your window before Sodapop or Ponyboy come barging in.

With a heavy sigh, you pick up a pair of dark blue jeans, tossing them haphazardly towards Two, who catches them with a broad grin. 

“Put those on.” You mumble, turning back to search for your own clothes, only succeeding in finding your shirt before the door flies open, slamming against the wall and making both of you jump.

“Y/N, Darry wants—” Ponyboy stops short when his gaze lands on Two-Bit, whose jeans are halfway up his thighs, an almost comical look of confusion crossing his features before it's replaced with something akin to horror. “Oh my God,” he breathes out. “You guys...” He trails off, glancing over to you before slapping a hand over his eyes when he realises how very little you're wearing. 

“Get out!” You shriek, your cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red, and Pony doesn’t need to be told twice, turning on his heel and fleeing from the room, no doubt to go tell Darry about his new, and rather horrifying, discovery. 

You turn to look at Two-Bit, who, despite the situation, is still grinning like a madman as he pulls on his shirt, seemingly unfazed by everything that has happened in the last few seconds. That grin quickly fades, however, when a loud crash sounds from the kitchen, accompanied by Darry’s all-too-familiar bellow of your name. 

“Shit…” You curse, tugging on the remainder of your clothes, trying to usher your boyfriend to the window despite his protests. His arms wrap tightly around your midsection, preventing you from even attempting to escape, and though you try to kick and squirm out of his grasp, he simply refuses to release his grip on you, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Keith Mathews, I swear if you don't let me go right now—”

Your threats are interrupted as the door flies open for the second time that morning, and there stands Darry, his hands on his hips, his eyes blazing with a look that could only be described as murderous. You freeze, staring at him helplessly, and Two-Bit offers him a sheepish smile, slowly releasing you and backing away towards the open window. Before he reaches it, however, Darry steps forward, grabbing him by the back of his shirt roughly and dragging him back. 

“Darry!” You exclaim, sounding slightly exasperated as you watch your brother pull Two-Bit out of your room and down the hallway, cursing under his breath as he goes. You trail after them, pausing beside a rather surprised Sodapop and a very guilty-looking Ponyboy as Darry shoves Two out of the front door, crossing his arms and glaring down at him.

“If I find you sneaking in here to see her again, I'll skin you, you hear?” He growls, pointing a threatening finger at the younger greaser, who has the decency to look appropriately terrified, flashing you a pleading look. 

With a sigh, you step forward, placing a gentle hand on your brother’s forearm and forcing out a tight-lipped smile. “Darry, c’mon.” You try, “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.” 

It seems, however, that your pleas fall on deaf ears, and Darry turns sharply to glare at you, his expression stony. You quickly fall silent, listening as your older brother continues to scold Two-Bit, whose eyes are wide with a slight fear. Darry could be really frightening when he wanted to be; you’d learn that the hard way. 

“I mean it,” Darry barks, his attention seemingly back on the redhead still standing on the porch. “From now on, you use the front door, and that bedroom door stays open whenever you’re around. I don’t want any ‘funny business’ going on under this roof. Especially not while I’m sleeping next door.” 

You know exactly what he means by 'funny business', and the implication causes your cheeks to flush crimson. Two-Bit, who looks just as embarrassed as you are, nods hurriedly, and you don't think you've ever seen the greaser look so guilty in all the time that you've known him. 

Darry must notice too, because he relaxes slightly, his tone softer than it had been before, as he speaks once again. “Don't hurt her; you got it?” 

“Got it.” Two nods: “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Darry huffs, clearly not entirely satisfied with the whole situation, but deciding to drop it nonetheless as he glances between the two of you. He runs a hand through his dark hair, which is still slightly mussed from sleep, and lets out a long sigh. “Ya’ll are going to kill me someday.” He mutters, shaking his head, before turning from the door and heading back in the direction of the kitchen.

Once he’s gone, you shoot Two-Bit an apologetic look, but he merely smiles and winks reassuringly at you before turning on his heel to jog down the porch steps. You close the door with a loud sigh and hear Sodapop chuckle behind you, his arms crossed and a smug smile spread across his features.

“So…” He drawls, looking impossibly pleased with himself. “Two-Bit Mathews, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[lilacsareinbloomagain]

Ik you said you’re on break but that’s okay! I can wait lmao

I’m obsessed with your yandere lu writings. I would love a yandere Time x fem reader where he like extra creeps on reader? I’m talking like spying on them n shit and maybe stealing an article of clothing just bc it smells like them

Lord help me that sounds so weird

Why am I like this

Help

Thank you so much for requesting for my boy Time!

Notes: No no I like your way of thinking, give me your worst. Me, personally, I can be way worse than that lol

In fact, I may have accidentally made this creepier than I meant to, idk

By the way, when I said underpants in this I meant those white pants thing Link uses, which is probably called tights or something, but I didn't want you guys to read this and imagine reader with, like, fishnets by accident lmao

Time has anxiety and I'll not elaborate

I was gonna post this tomorrow, but ya know

TWs: Yanderism, stalking, suggestiveness, clothing stealing.

Yandere! LU! Time x Reader

In a way, Time was like a cat.

There was no way you could just ignore random articles of your clothes going missing every time you went to bath.

No matter where you went to clean yourself, it was like one part of your outfit was picked out by hand and evaporated, be it your undershirt, underpants, socks, and sometimes even your underwear!

You tried everything to prevent it, hiding your clothes, setting up traps… You only drew the line when it came to anything to do with poison, since you couldn't bear to possibly end up killing an innocent animal just for the sake of clothes.

Even if said clothes somehow always ended up randomly returning unscathed to the rest of your laundry.

Time and time again, this topic was brought up in conversations with the men you traveled alongside. Yet, for some reason, the matter was also time and time again swept under the rug. It never got solved, neither did it ever get discussed, more often than not.

Starkly different from your point of view, Time found it pretty cute how you got all fussy over some little clothes, clothes which he could easily just make you throw away and buy new ones, it's not like he was lacking the rupees for it, after all.

Yet, he couldn't find it within himself to keep pressing on that matter, not when you looked just so embarrassed protesting against the idea of throwing away your under clothes, stressing about how comfortable your clothes were and about how they were your favorite because of that exact reason.

From what he's noticed, you barely ever wore anything else, no matter how many clothes they could offer you, which was proof of just how much you adored that outfit, each part that composed it having been carefully thought out before being picked out by your hand back when they first went to the market to look for an appropriate Hyrulean attire for you.

It was more than obvious by now that you weren't planning on getting rid of it any time soon.

Still, despite all your best attempts to keep your clothes safe, you couldn't really stop them from randomly disappearing, that is, unless you stopped bathing, and that was something you obviously couldn't even consider doing.

So, you simply sighed with resolution as you took off your clothes to once again go into the river next to the camp, wanting to wash off any grime that may have rubbed on you from the last battle the Links went through before you guys left for the next village.

A little ways down in the same river, you knew the other men were washing themselves, that way, a scream would be all they needed know to come over to help you, should anything happen.

Not that anything had ever happened to you while you were bathing.

You kind of felt like you were being watched, but then again, you learned to not pay attention to that, after all, your brain always seemed to like playing tricks on you, be it making you think you saw the shadows in the corner of your eye moving, or strange noises coming from bushes, all of which always proved to be absolutely nothing at all. Especially the strangely distinctive smell of Time rubbing off on your clothes...

Besides, whenever you looked around yourself to see if your senses were correct, you'd only be able to hear the calm silence of the river waters, almost as if the fish itself held back from swimming every time you tensed up.

The regular calming ambiance noises returned when you finally stopped being paranoid, going back to washing yourself with a relieved sigh, knowing the feeling of being watched was just a product of your tricky mind.

Sound doesn't travel much underwater. Should it be sounds of heavy breathing, sounds of something much larger than the river fish swimming, or even the heavy sounds of metal boots sinking into the sandy floor of the river with every step their wearer took.

Time observed with certain amusement as you walked around the shallow part of the river, your head just above the surface, your feet dangling dangerously near the deeper part. One wrong step and you could risk drowning.  

However, you seemed to be having fun while cleaning yourself, enjoying the cool, clean water. The elder, though, was having his own fun watching you.

He had to give it to you though, no matter what you did, your movements were always so captivating to him. He had already seen a lot in his life, many races, creatures and even monsters. Yet you had such a… Human way of behaving. Even if humans were so alike hylians, you still seemed different in a way, a very good way in his eyes.

What was even more interesting to him was the fact that you were still different from the other humans he'd met through his life.

More often than not your actions were unpredictable and random, not at all serious, it was like you somehow weren't very phased after getting kicked out of whatever universe you originally belonged in and into another. An universe that was extremely dangerous and distinct from yours. His universe.

You were very, very far from your home, yet he could still see some of it in the way you spoke, behaved and reacted to the things and beings around you.

Sometimes, he'd catch himself becoming infatuated again with the stuff that he was already used to, simply because you seemed so surprised and excited by them. 

Things he saw in his everyday life and just happened to ignore. Places, people, animals, creatures, plants, you name it. You gave him a renewed view of life, the whole "enjoy the small things in life" a concept so simple that still managed to make him feel truly alive again.

When he was with you he felt like Hylia and the Golden Goddesses themselves were paying him back for all heroic deeds he performed. In his eyes, you saved him.

In no time, watching the stars with you became a new routine, you were always so interested in them, yet still didn't seem to mind when he preferred to do something else, as to avoid looking at the moon.

Therefore, counting and catching fireflies was the next best thing.

And before he even noticed, he had bought an extra satchel at the market just so he could collect and buy those things that reminded him of you, things he noticed you pointing out whenever you saw. Pretty rocks, shiny crystals, colorful shells, and even those silly little trinkets that, in his eyes were useless, yet brought happiness to yours.

You'd even managed to make him blush the other day, when you told him he was acting like a cat, placing gifts by your bedroll at night, while you were asleep.

Yes, you made him blush. Him, The elder, The Hero Of Time that was also The leader their group, a group made up of the strongest men known in the history of Hyrule.

But, in a way, you were actually correct. 

Cats are very attached to their favorite person, enough to follow them around and watch them do the most simple things, like sleeping, or bathing.

He didn't feel like admitting to those things though, especially not to stealing your clothes.

At first, he assured himself that he was doing all that watching just to make sure you were safe, after all, bathing time was the only moment of the day when you were “fully alone” or so you thought. Time would never forgive himself if you accidentally got hurt because of his lack of attention to you, even if the “hurt” in question was merely a scratch on your knee from accidentally slipping while bathing.

He knew better than anyone that too much peace meant something bad could happen at any time, and too little peace was even worse! Therefore, there was no middle ground, you needed to be protected at all times. And the fact he also got a little fun out of guarding you didn't hurt anyone. After all, what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel.

He didn't even try lying to himself about stealing your clothes, he wasn't that delusional, after all, liking your smell didn't sound like too good of an excuse to tell you, should you find out about that little habit of his.

In a way, he wasn't even hidden right now, per say, he was just not in plain view. 

In fact, sometimes even hoped you saw him, so that he'd be able to stop just watching and join you already.

After all, you wouldn't be able to get hurt if he was right there beside you, right?

Let him keep pretending that's the only reason he wanted to join you in the bath.

[seancekitsch]

Setting: Cabin

Genre: Mystery 

Trope: Undercover Married 

Prompt: On a roadtrip together 

Kink: Exhibitionism

from the fic prompt generator with Adrian?

ok i hope you were hoping for a full on fic bc here it is

Being Watched

smut, basically the prompt, i got carried away

“Adebayo I just don’t understand why we have to be married on all of these missions,” you sigh into the receiver of your burner phone, the sound of the shower in the cabin drowning out any possibility of your best friend hearing. The shitty flip phone looks ridiculous, and anyone would peg you as undercover at this resort. There are senators here, senators who very well could be butterflies, and you’re here with a flip phone in the honeymoon cabin after driving 6 hours in the Vigilante-Mobile with Adrian singing along to Carly Rae Jepsen. Not that you minded that part, you sang along with him and fed him sour gummy worms while he got you there safely. 

“You guys just… work like that,” she responds, not even trying to hide her snickering on the other end. She’s right, check in at the resort went smoothly because Adrian slipped his right arm around your waist and made a show of waving around his wedding ring to all of the staff, kissing the side of your head and gushing about how excited he was that the bed was one of those vintage round ones from the 70s in the cabin. You yourself couldn’t stop blushing while you curled into him and clutched your suitcase close. You looked like a couple madly in love. Leota reminds you to keep your head on straight and to stay safe and all the other things you have to do before you’re rushing off the phone because you hear the shower stop. 

It’s only a few moments until your friend, your best friend, comes out of the little bathroom of the cabin with nothing but a towel draped low around his hips. 

Fuck, this was going to be harder than you thought.

But wasn’t it always? Don’t you always go through this? Adrian always parades around the hotel or villa or cabin you’re in with that damn wedding ring on his finger and you always practically jump out of your skin, itching to move closer to him under the sheets at night or to kiss his lips in private, away from potential counter surveillance. 

A part of you suspects this is just a forced proximity thing. You didn’t always want to fall into bed with your best friend since high school, and you didn’t always wish the wedding rings were real. But now you do, sometimes overwhelmingly so…

“What? Did I scrub too hard and accidentally wipe a nipple off?”

Fuck, you’ve been staring, checking him out like some kind of perv. You shake your head, nervous that somehow Adrian gained the ability to read minds or something from too many hits to the head. 

“Nope, I didn’t,” he confirms to himself, looking down at his bare chest to check. 

“Sorry, Ade, I must have zoned out,” you physically shake yourself out of it. You can do this. 

“Are you gonna shower too?” he asks, and you swear he’s flexing now, his biceps chiseled and shiny in the lamplight. You never thought of yourself as the type to go after muscular dudes, and you still aren’t really, Adrian is just an exception. 

You nod, quickly rifling through your bag for your toiletries and speeding to the bathroom door for some privacy.

The click of the door in the latch triggers a sigh you didn’t realize was building in your chest. Just three more days, you tell yourself, three more days of this week long recon mission and you could go home, scrub the smell of his cologne off of you and touch yourself until you passed out to get rid of all this tension in your body.

You fiddle with the nob on the shower and shed your clothes quickly to jump under the slightly too hot spray. 

This is exactly what you needed. You let the steam rolling off the tiles and your skin evaporate all the tension in your muscles and your mind. You relax fully. Maybe you can just spend the rest of the night in bed watching shitty cable movies and laughing and your feelings can bury themselves for the evening. 

Your relaxation is short lived, though. 

“Hey Honey?” Adrian calls through the door; Honey is the codename for when things go sour. Shit. 

“Can I come in?”

You fiddle with the nob and quickly end your shower, lucky to be done with the shampoo so you can hastily grab the towel and wrap it around you. 

“Of course, Sugar!” you call, back, quickly unlocking the door and open it for him to scurry in, now clad in his sweatpants and an athletic training top that truly did you no favors in sparing you from his looks. He presses his back against the door, looking up around the perimeters of the ceiling. 

“What’s going on?” you whisper, clutching your towel tighter to yourself. 

“We’re being watched,” Adrian tells you, pushing up his glasses and only letting his eyes dart briefly to your body, “I just saw one of the cameras turn on, little red light next to the smoke detector.”

“There’s supposed to be a light, Ade,” you sigh, “There’s supposed to be a red light. That means it's working to y’know, detect smoke.”

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, grabbing the loose sweatshirt you brought in here and bringing it down around you without disrupting the towel; a talent you mastered from having to bunk with the guys on too many occasions.

“No that’s—“ Adrian stops himself and curses under his breath, “I know that. You have a smoke detector in your apartment.”

You snap your head up to look at him while you grab your sweatshorts. 

“Why do you say that like your apartment doesn’t have a smoke detector?”

Adrian just smiles at you. 

“Okay,” you physically shake your head to keep yourself from doing the mental gymnastics on that one, pulling your shorts over your thighs, “So, typical plan H?” 

You hate plan H. Plan H is a fake-out make-out until whoever is watching stops. You’ve done this countless times, and never has it gotten easier. Once you stop kissing its back to the normal friend shit and the ice cold longing that sinks into your gut. Every time his lips fall on yours you beg and pray to any god that will listen that this will be real, that you won't stop once you realize the coast is clear. Every time he makes you moan it's for real, and he always compliments your acting skills. You’re a shit fucking actor and you know it. You thought he knew it too, for how well he knew you. 

You sigh.

“Plan H it is,” and you towel off your hair as much as possible. It's going to get ruined and you'll just have to re-shower in the morning. But if it gets surveillance out of your room, its worth the risk. No one ever wants to watch “newlyweds” go at it. He watches you squeeze the excess moisture from your hair with an expression you can’t exactly place. With Adrian, it’s usually so easy to tell how he’s feeling. Somehow, he never learned how to hide himself or how to be sarcastic or to read emotions. But this look in his eyes you can’t figure out; it’s dark and far off and seems to be trained on your knees of all places, from what you can tell of blotting your hair upside down.

This dance is like all the rest. You come barreling out of the bathroom all hand and lips and limbs and he practically throws you on the rounded mattress. Its like this every time, you throw your leg over his hip and he licks at your jaw and you moan and you cry out genuinely because you're sensitive and you love it.

You let yourself fall onto your back, not even putting your elbows down to break your fall. Adrian’s arms quickly cage you down like a vice, his entire body pushing onto yours, his weight apparent but not crushing. 

“Fuck, I’m so glad I can call you my wife,” he says, looking into your eyes but loud enough for any camera to hear. You roll your neck back, opening it up for him to kiss the full expanse of it and play the role of dutiful lover.

“My love,” you gasp, his mouth latching onto the skin above your jugular. He sets your skin aflame, makes you burn. Adrian kisses all the skin on your neck he can reach before he throws the covers over you. This is the finale piece.

And god, how you wish this was real. It feels like torture to be so close to the real thing and to not actually have it. Knowing that you’ll be pent up and jumpy for the rest of this mission and spend an entire night with your vibrator between your legs the moment debrief is over. That the expectation now, that’s what always happens.

What you don’t expect is for Adrian to push himself back from you to pull his shirt from his chest. Fucking hell, you think, your eyes following the reveal of skin, from his happy trail on his abs to the little dusting of chest hair on his sculpted pectorals, the finale being his broad shoulders that lead to arms strong enough to carry you like you’re weightless.

He spreads your legs and pushes himself between them, and you immediately curse yourself for not putting on underwear when you threw on your shorts. That meant your panties were somewhere in the bathroom and there were so many more chances to embarrass yourself now. He slots himself between your legs in a way that looks real. Anyone watching on the other side of that little red light wouldn’t know the difference. That was key to Plan H, something you and Adrian had actually fumbled through practicing in his apartment one night, setting up his phone in different vantage points and testing what motions looked real. 

Adrian pulls at the neckline of your sweatshirt, already stretched out from years of wear as you thread your fingers through his curls. God they feel so soft, so much more defined and luscious since you convinced him to ditch the five in one.

Adrian moans against your skin, and you go stiff. 

“Do it again,” he whispers, the breath of a laugh on his words and it’s only now that you realized you had tugged on his hair. 

You open your eyes to the sight of the mirror over the bed, taking in your appearance. Your hair is tangled and damp, you look like a drowned rat. Adrian however, is all rippling back muscles and reddened scar tissue from a nasty fight the two of you barely got out of making his pale skin look even more beautiful. Shit, this really looks real, the way he’s eagerly nipping at your collarbone and neck, the way he’s flexing his muscles and taking control of the situation. Adrian is many things, your best friend, a possible maniac, weapons expert, slightly emotionally stunted, but he could easily add erotic stand in on a movie set to that list.

You decide to help him out, hiking your parted knees up until they’re around his hips, and one of his hands grips the back of your knee and pushes the leg even farther. Without thinking, you let out the neediest whine you've ever heard, feeling your skin ignite. You have entirely too many clothes on. You watch your own eyes in the overhead mirror, pupils blown wide and a stray tear leaning from the outer corner, your lips fallen open in desperation. You’re fucked. 

You tear your eyes away from yourself, desperate to do anything but break your own heart over the fact that this is not at all real and you will have to sleep in this very bed with him tonight. Your gaze drifts to the smoke detector with its damned red light. 

It’s singular red light. 

Just one, not two. 

That means…

“Adrian! Adrian, stop,” your hands move to brace themselves on his chest, putting distance between you where his lips had made connection with the underside of your jaw.

He pulls apart like he’s been burned, all except for where your legs are still hitched around his waist. 

“What’s wrong, did I hurt you?”

His eyes are wide with panic, darting around your face to look for signs of pain, of anger, of disgust. You know exactly what he’s doing. He’s been searching for that disgusted look since high school and he’s never grown out of it. You know the look well, having watched him make it towards women at community college, as well as being on the receiving end of it once or twice.

“No,” you say, your hand rubbing at his shoulder to try to soothe him. As much as he tries to say he doesn’t have emotions, you can feel them in his tense muscles. 

“Ade, look at the smoke detector again.”

He does as you say, giving you a full view of his toned neck; gorgeous and just there for the biting and if this was real you would have wasted no time in sucking a dark hickey into the expanse of skin there, claiming him as your own for all to see. Not that he’s exactly someone who has people lining up to get with him, but still. If anyone wanted to they just couldn’t. 

“It’s the normal amount of lights,” he says, but he makes no move to get off of you. You don’t want him to though, and it’s not like you untangle your legs from his waist either. 

“They stopped watching,” he continues, eyes darting around, searching your face for a new game plan. 

“I guess we should…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact as much as possible and finally starting to slip you legs away from where you had so hastily wrapped them around him. You had made a mistake there, getting way too into it yourself. This isn't the kind of place where you can get selfish, you think, there are lives at stake.

Adrian’s eyes are dark with something unknown, his expression unreadable as he searches your face once more. 

“We don't have to,” his voice sounds so matter-of-fact.

“Adrian… what-” your eyebrows furrow as you wrack your brain trying to figure him out. You start to move your legs, unhooking your ankles and unlocking yourself from Adrian’s hips- when he stops you in your tracks; hand planted on your thighs to keep them in place.

“What if… What if I want to keep going?” he asks a bold question with an equally bold straightforward delivery. What if he wants to keep going? Is this a fucking joke? He isn't the type to joke like this.

“Do you?” you ask, ready to risk it all. The words are out of your mouth before you can weigh the consequences of them. 

Adrian scoffs.

“Duh,” he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. As if, of course, of course he would want to keep going, would want to keep ravaging you and throwing you into the deep end of this torture. 

“We… Our friendship,” you gasp, grasping at something almost dumbly.

“You mean our friendship that I already totally ruined?” he balks, as if you're late to the party, as if you should already know.

“Ruined?” you parrot, and his left hand shoots to your knee,keeping you from slipping away from him.

“Yeah, I mean like, by falling in love with you and shit. I thought you knew. Chris makes fun of me all the time,” he admits, and finally his grip on you loosens. He gives you every opportunity to move away and get out of this position. That look of bracing for disgust evident in his eyes again in full force and absolutely killing you. 

“Adrian,” you say, trailing off, the words confirming in failing on your tongue. Of course you'd heard Chris making fun of Adrian, but he makes fun of Adrian for everything so you figured it was better to ignore it.

Adrian pushes himself off of you to lean back on his knees, starting to pat the bed feeling around for his shirt. 

“Wait, Ade!” You almost scream, ready to beg as long as he stays exactly how he is. Between your legs.

He freezes, his expression unreadable to you for maybe the first time ever.

“What if I want to keep going too?” you ask, voice timid and far away, but your arms remain loose and planted around his neck. 

“Do you?” he asks, not at all hiding his enthusiasm. You fucking love that about him. He looks so excited. So happy, and knowing it's all for you...

You fucking kiss him instead of formally responding, arching your back and pushing yourself up to connect with him, forcing your lips to make contact so he knows, he knows, that you’re desperate for it. His tongue licks against your lips and you moan wantonly, not unlike your fake recon moan, but this time entirely real and something you fully intended on hiding until Adrian embarrassingly pulled it from you. 

You accept his tongue in your mouth eagerly, letting him take the lead and pulling more moans from you, absolutely kissing all of your resolve out of you.

“Fuck me, Ade,” you whisper, puling your lips away from his for a moment, ready to scream the same words if he asks.

“Me?” he asks, “You want me? Jesus, I’ve been waiting so long to hear that.”

“Not as long as me, I promise,” you laugh, and pull him back down onto you, fingers threading into his curls again.

You tug on his hair again as his teeth graze your bottom lip, earning an absolutely sinful groan from his lips. You've heard this man yell and scream and groan in pain but nothing like this; this is like heaven itself, better than any drug you could think of. Better than the indica strain in your vape that Adrian always yells at you for hitting in the Vigilante-mobile.

He bites down on your lip, not worrying about whether or not it hurts, reveling in the yelp you let loose against his mouth. Adrian’s hands travel up your thighs, over your hips and those little sweat shorts, squeezing right against your pelvic joints, and then finally they dip under your sweatshirt, his hot calloused hands against your smooth skin. 

“You know,” he starts, open mouth working its way back from your mouth to your jaw, “It kinda sucks they aren’t watching anymore. Woulda been hot.”

Your brain fries and short circuits at his words. You peek an eye open at him, eyes blissfully closed and still continuing his kissing as if that was the most normal thing for him to say. Honestly, you figured Adrian had to be into some kinky shit. You've heard him discuss his threesomes with Chris, and you've seen what the trunk of his sebring looks like. He can protest all he wants but you know the fuzzy pink handcuffs aren't for any kind of “bad guy” he could be up against. Plus, he just kills them. He doesn't exactly take prisoners.

“You wanted an audience for this?” Surprise more evident in your voice than you meant it to be. Part of you thinks you might have slipped and fell in the shower and this is some sort of hallucination or fucked up knock-out dream. 

His hips twitch and buck into yours, and you easily respond with a roll of your hips in return. 

“Want those fucks to see I finally got the girl,” he responds, rocking his hips back up into you again, but on purpose this time. His hands travel to your chest and your heart breaks for him a little. You know if this goes well you'll be his first real girlfriend. The first girl to spend more than one consecutive night, the first girl to do dishes and laundry with him, the first girl to not run because you know all the ugly shit he’s done and you already don't care. 

“Always had me, babe,” you pant. Your back arches off the mattress as you meet the movement of his hips, now working up a rhythm against each other.

“We both just needed to pretend to be married to get it right,” you joke, pushing him back only enough for you to wiggle out of your sweatshirt and throw it towards the edge of the bed. Now you know what Adebayo was talking about on the phone. You guys just work like that. Like a married couple, like a real couple. He laughs and starts kissing down your chest, immediately latching himself onto one breast while he grabs at your waist. You tug on his hair again as your other hand starts to travel his toned back. He’s absolutely beautiful, you think, running your fingertips over the freckles along his shoulder blades that you've memorized at this point.

“Need to-,” you gasp as he bites down on the underside of your breast, and you're sure youll be covered in marks by dawn, “Need to feel you.”

You aren't sure when you became a beggar, or maybe Adrian just made you one. 

“Oh you’ll feel me,” he promises, starting to kiss his way down your ribcage, down your stomach. He’s much more of a kisser than you imagined, much more attentive and much more loving. You almost feel bad for not thinking of him like this when you used to touch yourself to the thought of him. That feeling immediately dissolves when he then bites at your hip, his hands pulling at your shorts to give him more access to your skin. 

It’s awkward and fumbling to get you out of your shorts, not unlike two teens going at it on prom night, all nerves and fear and curiosity bound in eagerness. He tries to whip them off of your calves, resulting only in jerking your ankles up awkwardly, and the two of you burst into a comfortable laughter as you remove them yourself the rest of the way.

He freezes for a moment, finally seeing you completely bare. At first, it’s extremely flattering, his lips hanging open and his eyes wide as they search your form.

And then you find your arms slinking from their position on his shoulders to try to cover yourself, only to be stopped by Adrian himself. His rough hands wrap themselves around your wrists, pinning them down so they can’t go where you wanted. 

“Can’t hide from the Vigilante,” he jokes, bravado evident in his voice. 

You only roll your eyes and giggle in response.

“Please don’t tell me you’ll be Vigilante in bed too,” you counter. 

“Might chase you.”

You know he’s serious, just like you know he’s serious about wishing the camera was still watching. 

Heat floods your body, and suddenly all of this is so real, Adrian, his hips pressed against your bare body between your legs, his dusting of curly brown hair on his chest, the warm eyes behind glasses staring straight back into yours.

“Adrian…” you trail off, not sure what you're trying to say or ask. It's all just, the Adrian of it all.

“No, I’m serious, babe. I might chase you,” and everything in his tone tells you he’s serious.

“Please… Adrian,” you don't even finish the sentence, because he knows exactly what you're asking for. His hands abandon your wrists to find themselves on your hips again and his lips find your own. He kisses you deeply, like a promise, hard and slow as his fingers move eagerly. Featherlight touches you didn’t expect him capable of trail from your hips to the apex of your legs. You’re so thankful you shaved in the shower; you know Adrian wouldn’t actually give a fuck about body hair, but there’s just something about a first impression you can’t help but feel. 

You gasp against his mouth the moment his finger dips and bumps against your clit, clumsy, but perfect. He doesn't stop kissing you as he explores further, tracing circles against your clit delicately, and then more forcefully.

You can tell by the way he kisses you that he’s studying, testing the waters to see what gives you the most pleasure, what you react most to. He switches from his circular motion to a rocking back and forth of his fingertip over your clit, and you think it's lights out for a second; Fuck, it feels so good. 

“Oh, that's it,” he whispers, lips still smashed against yours. You can only whine in response, high pitched and needy. You try to arch your back, try to move in any way you can to get Adrian better access to you. He only pushes you further, his grip of one hand so tight on your hip it could bruise, the other working hard to make you feel good. But he doesn't even need to work that hard, with the way you are moaning and crying against him. Your skin burns under his touch, and freezes with the absence of it. You come alive like a wire tripped and electrified under him. You love it, and you knew you would,  but it feels so different from the idea of him and the real thing. There's so much romance here, even if Adrian’s lack of romance could possibly deny that.

“Fuckin’ love it,” you moan against him, and he tries to roll his hips, incapacitated by his own hand. Quickly he pulls himself away letting his sweatpants clothed cock shove against you.

You can feel it, sort of. You can feel that his cock is big and that he knows how to move his hips but you want to know everything about it, want to memorize every ride and twist and dip of his body.

You pull your lips from his, ripping yourself to the side just long enough to speak.

“Gimme all of it,” you beg, and he absolutely does not hesitate. Adrian removes his hand from where he's working you over to the waistband of his pants so he can free himself for you. 

He wiggles his sweatpants down awkwardly, fumbling and tangled up, but frees himself without any comment from you. You can’t say that you were exactly graceful either, the eagerness taking over your motor skills momentarily.

Adrian pauses for a second, letting the moment sink in. You’re bare before each other for the first time on purpose. It’s not like when he would come in through your window unannounced after work and you’d scream and throw shoes at him. It’s full of lust and love and sheer nerves. For both of you, it isn't your first time, but as he pushes into you without weird decorum of virginity, it feels almost alien, but at the same time, this is how it's supposed to happen. He bottoms out with a little smile, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. If he finds any, it fades away quickly with a kiss. His eyes are the prettiest shade of brown, you think, feeling your own little smile grace your lips. 

“Guess the newlywed cabin is living up to its name finally,” you joke, stopping again to press a kiss against his lips, “only took, what, multiple missions?”

Seven. It took seven missions.

Adrian snaps at this point. His hips move, completely without warning to thrust back out and into you again, so roughly and perfectly Adrian that it feels too good. It's everything you imagined and more.

“Wish this was happening every time,” He thrusts more, “Imagined us actually married.” 

He moans, relinquishing his self control to how good it feels. All of your nerves were already on fire, but his words kick you into overdrive, the same way that when you hold your finger over a candle too long it feels almost cold. Your nails rake down his back as his pace picks up, your legs around his back giving you leverage to thrust back on every snap of his hips. 

“Wanna be yours,” you moan, your head thrown back against the pillow to give yourself better leverage to arch your back.

“Wish that fuckin’ camera was still on,” He groans, “Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He dips his head down, first connecting with the underside of your jaw, then to the side of your neck where he bites down, hard and unapologetic; You know it's gonna bruise up to a dark purple by morning.

“Fuck,” you moan, “Keep that up and they’re gonna.”

Adrian only laughs against your skin, and bites down again. He doesn’t falter or change his pace, his hips always snapping recklessly against you. You feel more full than you ever have, something about Adrian invading all of your senses and overwhelming all of them has you a mess already. You’re sure he’s gonna last longer than you, already your body feeling like it’s floating in space and already your mind drowning in everything Adrian.

“Adri-” you whine, but off by your own voice, as your body jolts under his touch. More accurately, his slap. Its light and playful and just enough to drive you that much further towards the edge.

“Oh… You liked that?” 

You nod.

He laughs, scrunching his nose to try and push his glasses back up his nose.

“I knew you would. Had to be kinky if you were into me,” he sighs, before slapping your cheek again a little harder, and you find your moan melting into a laugh. He’s so effortlessly hot while still being adorable Adrian. He knows you so well.

“Fuck me harder, babe,” you beg, finding it harder and harder to form words as tension rises in your body, your body overheated and every nerve like fireworks. Adrian seems to be spurred on even more by the pet name, immediately pushing into you even harder the second you call him babe. 

You can feel your orgasm building quickly, now completely sure you're gonna finish before him. He pistons into you, hips pressing flush against you, his balls against your ass. He’s no longer pulling all the way out, instead staying deep inside you and grinding his hips harder into you. It's absolutely driving you wild, moans and whines spilling from your lips. You're close, so incredibly close, and there's no way he can’t feel it from his position. He presses his whole being against you, his sweaty chest against you, his forehead pressed against yours. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is even more perfect than you ever could have imagined. And now you see it, the way Adrian could so easily pretend you were actually married. How easily all of this came to you both, how well you knew each other's bodies without ever doing this before. That deeper feeling without a name.

Your fingers move from his back, surely scratched and maybe even a little ripped up from your nails, and to his scalp, to those bouncy curls that you always look for in a crowded room.

“Fuck!” Adrian practically shouts as you pull at them, rutting harder into you even still. That pushes you over the edge, and you barely register the shaking of your legs or the low moan in your throat as your fist tightens in his hair. 

“Goddamn,” he chuckles, hands leaving their place on the mattress to cup your cheeks as he lets you come down from your high and finishes off himself. You whine almost pitifully as you can feel the searing heat of him spilling inside you, and he just soothes you with the sweetest kisses you've ever tasted. He stays there a little while, a lot more gentle and intuitive than you expected of him. He wipes away tears you hadn't realized had fallen and he lets you catch your breath. 

“My pretty wife,” he sighs, moving slowly as he finally pulls out of you, the sting of his departure and the cool air of the cabin knocking you like a wave. 

“Not your wife,” you correct him, but your voice is full of love and exhaustion. 

Not your wife, yet, at least. You can't afford to get ahead of yourself, especially not when you work on this team, but you let the thought pass through your mind without punishing yourself at least. 

Adrian just laughs, full and boisterous as he pulls you into his chest and holds you there in an iron grip. You think for a moment, that maybe he does that so you won't leave. You weren't planning on it anyway. 

“I still wish the camera was on,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

“I know, babe,” you mumble, eyes getting heavier. 

And then. 

“Wait, Adrian, can we circle back to the thing where I don't think you own a smoke detector?”

[g-xix]

oh my days did u hear about wilbur soot literally physically abusing shelby

YESYESYES I DID!!!

For the girlies that don't know: I was a minecraft girlie in 2021.

And Wilbur Soot was a big part of that MC phase. He was undeniably hot, but he was also quite open ab mental health stuffs + created quite a safe space for minorities whether that be the gay community, mental health talking space... That's all from the top of my head. In short - he's hot and an empath and ppl liked that ab him

He also kinda showed his "quirky loco character" in music vids or just in streams.

Kinda ironic he's now fulfilling the role that character he mockingly made, tho.

What did he do? Well, he was in a relationship w Shelby Shubble and his way of showing "affection" would be to bite her. Kinda understand biting as a way of showing love as long as it's not life threatening, painful, or in aggression... I mean, ChrisMD does that shit all the time to ArthurTV n it seems more endearing than to really do any bads.

Thing is, Wilbur would end up hurting Shelby. Aaaand so Wil said 'hey let's make a safeword for u 2 say when it hurts so that ik and can stop so i don't harm u'.... but when Shelby used that safeword, broski wuld either grind down or go a lil bit harder b4 letting go.

And Shelby's described it as she would oftentimes scream/yell bc it was so hard, and he'd 'smile' afterwards which is mad psycho (term used loosely) imo. Because also, he'd do ts in public??? Yk, with his friendship group around him n Shelby, the lovely jovely couple? Straight out weird negl.

So, there's context.

Lots of varying opinions online which i would soooo love to get into...

BUT DISCLAIMER BEFORE I DO: Realistically, this is abuse, and thus it is a crime. I've talked about this on my page before - cancel culture can be unecessary in minor incidences, and cancel culture can be not-enough in instances whereby people have simply done illegal things.

This is one of those illegal things. So, whilst I do chat about this light-heartedly or for entertainment, gossip-y purposes - do realise that this is a real life problem that has has major issues in many peoples' lives.

Now, continuing with the juicy waffley discussions that ppl like hearing:

So firstly, some of the Twitter memes are fucking hilarious. I do love that under Wilbur's Twitter apology, loads of MCYTers have joined to clown his goofy ahh. And all those memes saying that Bill smelled such a shit apology he returned to twitter after years + the DSMP are like Avengers in Infinity War returning to all fight enemy No1 WILBUR...

But that being said, DREAM REPLYING TOO????

I spoke ab Dream being a groomer around Christmas time + heard loads of ppl out on vouching for Dream or calling him disgusting, dahdahdah... But the fact that sm ppl are turning around and praising Dream for calling out Wilbur's goofiness is acc MAAAD.

Why's everyone forgotten Dream is j as goofy? And an alleged groomer? And just plain? Not even plain something, brodie is just the plainest mf i've ever seen. Ever since he face revealed, his personality j evaporated on out of his body (anyone feel this asw?)

But no, ppl who are now agreeing w Dream to combat Wilbur as if Dream hasn't also committed what is debateably a crime (ik he 'cleared up the rumours' but it's v hard to fight of groomer allegations when you let them sit and marinate for approx 6 months) is fucking WILD shit to me.

Secondly, people are analysing loads of Wilbur's other prev actions too and saying these should've been red flags to Wilbur being an a-hole before we even heard Shubble's solid proof.

And some of these clips of evidence (e.g. Niki saying Wil bites her + threw her, Tommy getting his hand stomped, throwing apple at Techno) feel very valid.

But other bits I do wonder - are they just being over analysed? Yk, like with the clip of Wil shouting at Tommy for streaming + stealing his wallet, i was super sure that was staged as is (j had it confirmed now by the Twitter community note asw lol) and also, whilst Wil's shouting does feel extreme and hurtful from a viewer pov... Having a wallet stolen, place of work broken in to, litr knowing the place where you work to make all income could be taken away from u bc a friend thought it funny to break in n loudly + rowdily stream... i gotta say that some form of anger or upset is valid there. And this isn't to validate Wilbur's assholery, this is just to point out that whilst ppl are throwing clips into the fire and saying "this is more proof Wil was a bad person from the start" - do try see other interpretations of it and form your own line of reasoning - yk - "is this a valid point or is this someone using the drama to get some extra likes and attention to boost their account" (because believe me, ppl would - if ppl would use Techno's death to get more channel views and interactions - ppl would also most definitely use abuse as a means to engage more ppl).

Aaaaaand let's talk about the little Lovejoy band. Ngl i fucken loved their stuff, quite sad to see it go down the drain because 3/4 of them are public targets, now.

So ik we hate Wil for being an abuser. And I've seen that ppl dislike Mark bc he supported Maccies (what did he do fr tho bc i have no clue - did he j eat a McDonalds or what?) And we hate Ash Kabosu for saying it's bad to make fun of those deaths on the submarine...

Controversial opinion but I don't blame Ash allat much??? Now imma explain myself - but pls understand that i don't knoe 100% ab the situation, im v detached from the MCYT sphere of the online community.

But hear me out.

I'm a big believer in cherishing life, life is v important, life is a blessing.... Not from a rly religious pov, moreso in a spiritual way. Because if we only get one life, fuck, it's pretty damn precious. And whilst all those Oceangate memes were haha heehee funny watches, at the end of the day, people did die. And I do find that quite sad.

People say it's fine to laugh and make fun of those who were in there and died bc they were just billionaires who went down there for their own personal entertainment.

Just because they're billionaires doesn't make them any less human than us? Sure, they have a lot more money and are probably a lot more detached from working class issues which the majority of the population faces... But their drowning will have hurt and caused just as much pain to them as it would to us if we were in their situation. And my god, I can't even begin to think about the pain their families must have felt.

Those deaths were a fucking tragedy, realistically - and maybe i'm 'overreacting' here - but c'mon, empathy is literally encoded into our DNA as humans, surely I'm not the only one that can see the heartlessness in just laughing and memeing those deaths?

So Ash Kabosu haterism I don't fully understand, is the conclusion of that sub-rant.

And then I think this is the final little bit I'll discuss considering this is a loooong post:

James Marriott.

Jimbo Mazza, Jimbatron, James Marriott.

Lowkey my big flex, I've been a fan of him since 2020, and I got into his hater-commentary content initially. And ngl, when he transitioned to Minecraft? It was so fkn obvious he was trying to tailor to the MCYT audience to get their approval and entrance into the MCYT community, it made me absolutely cringe - and the blindness of everybody to that fact was insane to me.

Like, he was literally beegggging to be added to SMPs, he'd try and portray this "uncontrollable, quirky" character and would be so "unhinged" that everyone would love him... But ngl, that shit was literal brainrot, and he had you guys (me included tbf, bc i'd watch - just cringing whilst watching) ROTTING your brains with spamming the chat w allat bs that u do on Twitch

Nowadays, I like James tho. I feel like he feels ingrained enough within the community to branch out and not have to play up to the disturbing, disgusting cringefest - and so now he's funnier and having a better time streaming.

I mean, he looks absolutely great too - his tours have him confidence-boosted (rightfully so), because he's in great shape, like, he's genuinely lost noticable fat and put on muscle which has him looking trim as ever - he's grown his hair out into a flattering mullet - Shit, i believe looksmaxxing is the boy-equivalent of the makeup industry profiting off of womens' insecurity....

But the Jimbatron has absolutely looksmaxxed for the best.

That being said however, people saying "I OFFER JIMBO AS A REPLACEMENT FOR WILBUR!!" are fucking weirdos (respectfully but also kinda not)

Bro has just abused people and you're mourning the loss of a content creator and oh no - your favourite band - so you're trying to serve up replacements like a fucking chef that's ran out of a specific ingredient??????????

Yeah, James is less problematic and has 2x the personality Wilbur has- BUT WHY DOES IT TAKE WILBUR COMING OUT AS A FKN ABUSER FOR PPL TO START PROMOTING JAMES????

This is like that whole thing whereby ppl put other girls down to point out to success or beauty of other girls: it takes everyone noticing how bad Wilbur is, to point out the goodness of James.

James litr banned people who wouldn't stfu about Wilbur in his chat in early streams, bc he was sick of ppl following him for Wilbur and who just wanted to talk about Wilbur on James' platform.... I don't think James rly wants to share an identity, or have his platform built from being against Wilbur.

Not proof read this post fully. But take-aways from this: -Yeah Dream is cooking Wilbur on Twitter but don't forget he's an alleged groomer + is deffo using this as a way to get back into the audience's "good books" -RIP Lovejoy but some1 explain what Mark did fully + why ppl think Ash is so abominable for showing empathy to ppl dying -Rmbr that this is acc a serious crime, don't downplay ts -Stop fucking promoting James Marriott thru Wilbur's downfall, it rly discredits James' authenticity and original building of a community -So proud to say that after a few months of getting into MCYT stuff i felt as though Wilbur was icky + just plainout didn't like him/got odd vibes -And lol, acc so jarring how Wil reminds me of this guy in my yr - complete mummy's boy, underestimates and belittles women bc his mum handed everything to him on a plate n so he doesn't empathise w them but rather expects the world from them whilst simultaneously treating them like shit, 'radical', extremely 'woke' about modern situations but is so stubborn and refuses to see two sides of a picture.... Tbh I might j hate the guy in my yr and be projecting that onto Wil

Btw, feel free to argue w me in my inbox ab this but whilst i was quite critical - pls do not be mean to me or criticise me that harshly - if im talking to some1 one on one, i won't be this mean

(ALSO ANON, SORRY BC I WAS QUITE RUDE IN THIS REPLY BC I LOWKEY FORGOT I WAS REPLYING TO U, I WAS IN MY OWN HEAD AB WAFFLING AB SHELBY N WILL, LY AND TY FOR ASKING AB IT THO BC I DEFFO NEEDED TO WAFFLE AB IT SOMEWHERE)

[love-toxin]

im very much an inexperienced ’never held hands with a boy’ girlie, but reading ur older bully steddie stuff?? feel like i need a round of the most sickeningly sweet, soft sex. a lil break. and then to just have the sweatiest, most instinct-driven fuck of my life.

im talking the whole musk thing, i need the ‘spur of the moment declarations of breeding/nasty shit’ that if I was in the right frame of mind, could freak me out a bit (one of em just groaning out about getting pregnant/barefoot and pregnant and swollen - and it just being all heady and heightened) hnnnggghh

prrrrrrr not me thinking abt older Steve and Eddie feelin a little guilty about messing you up <3

the corruption kink is so strong within them but they snap out of horny brain often bc they realize that your innocence makes you way more.....impressionable. like they wanna fuck you (BAD, real bad <3) but they, especially Steve, don't wanna take complete advantage of your naiveté because deep down they don't wanna make you hate them for real. just the playful kind. so they push back a little when you lean in to their bullying, afraid that they might be going too far and yet wanting to continue all the same. it's quite the conundrum!

but luckily for them Eddie's a lot more experienced with rotting the brains of the pure-hearted young adults of America. he plucks out bits of information from you little by little until he has enough to be confident in his assessment, and then steamrolls Steve into inviting you back home for "just some drinks and a movie, there's nothing wrong with that, is there, Stevie?"

but there's definitely something wrong when both of them sit on either side of you on Eddie's sunken sofa, jeans so tight they can barely shift their legs without having to bite down to keep their moans quiet. cause your tits are nearly spilling out of that tight top you chose to change into before coming over, and your hands are folded so delicately in your lap like you're consciously trying to keep them off the two older men beside you. and when you yawn and shuffle around so that you're propped up on your hip, you look up at Steve with those big, sweet eyes and ask if Mr. Harrington minds you laying your head on his lap for a bit, your legs already comfortably tucked up on Eddie's--whose hand is already hovering over your thighs with the intent to leave marks everywhere. and yeah, whatever self-control he thought he should have before then has totally evaporated--he needs to feel your tits, he needs to know how sweet your pussy tastes, and he needs to breed you no matter what.

[feyburner]

tumblr user feyburner, i have a confession. i don't know how to roast a chicken, or do anything with a chicken, and at this point i'm afraid to ask.

I can tell you're afraid to ask bc this isn't really a question. But I will answer it anyway. I'm always happy to talk about chicken.

You’ll be pleased to learn that roasting a chicken is so easy. The below explanation is quite long bc I am including all the information I can remember, to set you up for chicken roasting success. But, essentially, you’re rubbing a chicken in oil and seasonings and putting him in the oven for like an hour. Done.

Remember that people have been roasting whole chickens since the dawn of time using whatever they had around bc it’s the most low effort, high reward meal ever. You could say the word “salt” in a chicken’s general direction and toss him at a candle flame and he would still turn out great.  

To roast a chicken:

Buy a whole chicken, however big you want. 4-5 lbs is enough to feed 3-5 people with leftovers.

Prepare a workspace with a plastic cutting board (not wooden bc raw chicken juices) and paper towels. 

Remove the giblets, pin feathers, extra flaps:

1. Stick your hand up his primary orifice and pull out anything loose. There is usually a handful of little organs like heart and gizzards and sometimes these strings of pale bean looking things (tbh not sure what those are). Save these for stock, except the liver (super dark squishy organ) which will disintegrate. You can eat the liver separate if you want.

2. Trim off any sticky-outy bits that have pin feathers on them, and the flaps of fat/gristle over his orifice. Save the fatty bits for stock. Leave the triangle of fat directly above the orifice (his tail). 

Pat the chicken dry with paper towels inside and out. Get him as dry as possible. 

Spatchcock: You don’t have to spatchcock/butterfly but I like to, bc it maximizes outer surface area for that good good crispy skin. Also easier to get breasts and thighs done at the same rate.

All you have to do is cut the backbone out of the chicken with poultry shears or kitchen scissors if you’re desperate. Then push down hard to crack the breastbone so he lies super flat. Save the backbone for stock or jus. How to spatchcock step by step guide.

Dry brine: Prepare a bowl of coarse kosher salt. More salt than you’d think. Like 1 Tbsp per lb of meat. Rub salt over the whole chicken inside and out. Don’t skimp on the salt especially on the inside. It will not make your chicken crazy salty, it doesn't penetrate the meat that deep. Also some will be wiped off before you cook. 

Put the chicken on a wire rack on a baking sheet and chill uncovered in the fridge for 2-24 hours. The point of this step is the salt draws moisture to the surface of the chicken, which then evaporates in the circulating fridge air. It helps you get crispy chicken skin.

Dry brine + resting isn't 100% necessary, if for some reason you must produce a roasted chicken on a time crunch. But it's a good practice.

Roasting time:

Pat excess moisture off chicken inside and out. If you did not spatchcock you can stuff the inside with a halved lemon or garlic head, herbs, whatever you want. 

Seasoning rub: Prepare a small bowl with olive oil (maybe 1/4-1/3 cup?), salt, freshly cracked black pepper, and whatever dried herbs and spices you want. A good starter is: salt, pepper, parsley sage rosemary thyme, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder. I love me some Cajun spice mix like Slap Ya Mama. Start with like 1-2 tsp of each (1 tsp spices, 2 tsp dried herbs) and build from there. Don’t be shy. Recipes on the internet are like “Use 1/2 tsp herbs for this whole recipe” because they’re heading off 1-star reviews from annoying people who can’t handle a molecule of flavor. Season with your heart, your pussy, and your balls. Don’t be ashamed to use a store-bought spice rub. It’s not lazy, it’s efficient. Also, who gives a shit.

Rub the oil all over Mr. Chicken like he’s an Ancient Greek warrior-prince you’re preparing for the Olympic Games. 

Some recipes tell you to use butter, or slip butter under the skin, but butter has higher water content than oil and might not get you the ideal crispy skin. You can do whatever you want though. It’s your chicken. 

Preheat the oven to 425°. People will tell you a billion different temperatures—screaming hot, low and slow—but I’m here to tell you that it is so hard to fuck up a roast chicken, you can experiment and the results will always be great. 

I like to start at a high temp for 30 minutes to get the skin crisping and then reduce to 375° for the rest of the time to avoid burning. Sometimes you’ll have to cover him with foil if the seasonings start charring. That’s fine.

General cook time: 20 minutes per lb of meat, give or take 20 depending on oven temp. A 4-5 lb chicken at 425° -> 375° generally takes me ~1 hour 20 minutes. If you do low and slow at like 325° it might take 2+ hours. Just check on him periodically. Tbh it’s harder to overcook a chicken than you probably think. 5 minutes, or even 10-20 minutes, is NOT the difference between beautiful tender juicy chicken and a bone-dry tragedy. Chicken is not turkey. He is versatile and he can take it.

Pull the chicken when a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part reads 145° or above. (160° is the “safe temp” but 1. The temp will continue to rise for a few minutes after it leaves the oven, and 2. 160° is the temp at which bacteria dies immediately. 145° is fine for eating. Disclaimer: I am not a scientist just a guy who makes a lot of chicken.)

If you don’t have a thermometer, pull the chicken when you insert a knife into the thickest part and the juices run clear. Gorgeous.

Let him sit for 10-20 minutes before carving. When carving, find the oysters and give them to your favorite person or take them as the Cook’s Bounty.

**********************

Again, this explanation is quite long because I included lots of detail. If you do it even one time, you'll realize it's incredibly easy and intuitive and doesn't take much time at all.

Godspeed!

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem! Reader

Warnings: second part of this writing is smut so beware, fluff, a bit of insecurities

A/n: I don’t write much about Theo but I’ve had a suffocating obsession with him for so fucking long!! I can’t bottle up those thoughts in my head anymore so I just have to share those with you guys

Theodore Nott dating headcanons

Okay, hear me out, Theo had the fattest crush on you for at least four months before he ever actually approached you! It’s most probable for you to share some of your classes and he happened to sit next to you or behind you, getting to hear your little chats with your friends or even having full conversations with you personally

He would def ogle you from across the great hall during all meals, and not gonna lie - it freaked the fuck out of you at first. Because Theodore doesn’t have this ‘I’m so painfully in love with you’ stare, but rather a ‘I wanna slit your throat with a salad knife’ kind of stare, yk? But once you’ve had a nice chat with him all your worries evaporated bc this boy is a total sweetheart, just a bit shy and introverted

Theo would be very clear with his intentions from the very beginning, so when he asked you out for the first time he added a timid “But I mean it as a date, if you don’t mind” at the end, his cheeks growing rosy and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at how adorable Theo looked

Mean to everyone but you trope!! It’s no secret that Theo is all grumpy and gloomy, no one gets surprised by his rather rash mood swings (which are usually bad mood changing to disastrously bad mood), but when he’s with you? Boy, that is a whole another person - he’s all smiley and flirty, joking around, trying to see that precious smile of yours he adores so much

He remembers everything, and I mean everything, about you. What your hobbies are, things that you are interested in, your favorite actors and singers, which flavors and fragrances you like and which you don’t etc. I swear, this man pays more attention to your little whims than to his classes

He loves snuggles so much🥺 His mother passed away shortly after giving birth to Theodore, and his father, being a strict and reserved person he is, wasn’t able to give that parenting love and tenderness to his son, so Theo is touch-starved for sure. He loves every kind of physical touch - handholding, hugging, cuddling, kissing, snuggling - bring it all in

So so devoted. He had been dying for being close to you for so long, and now that he finally has you - there’s no way he’s going to fuck everything up with some stupid flings. In fact, Theodore is all about long-term relationships, and I feel like even an idea of having a one-night stand deeply disgusts him

But Theodore is also very possessive. And it’s not like he doesn’t trust you enough, it’s all the people around you that cannot be trusted. But it’s also his insecurities talking in him - what if you find someone better? Someone smarter and more attractive and you’ll leave him, heartbroken and lonely. Theo is deeply attached to you, and even the thought of you breaking up with him hurts poor boy deeply

Theo has some anger management issues, so there are times when he asks you to leave him alone to cool down, so that he won’t say anything to you in a fit of fury that he’ll heavily regret afterwards

Random dances are really a thing in your relationship! Very often you find yourself waltzing with Theo to a non-existent tune in your head, spinning each other around and giggling like small kids. And if you don’t know how do waltz - don’t worry! Being a pure-blood automatically means being good at ball dances, Theo will teach you everything! And don’t worry about accidentally stomping on his shoes- he will never get mad or tell you off for that

Omg omg imagine being too careless and leaving blotches of your shiny microglitter lipgloss on his cheeks, chin and around his lips, not noticing them in a dim light. And Theo being absolutely clueless, walking around the castle all sparkly, not understanding why his slytherin pals are snickering and smiling slyly at him

I kinda have a feeling, that when you start dating Theo - you get Blaise Draco and Pansy as an additional gift. No matter what you two are doing or where you are - there will always be one or all of those around, teasing the shit out of both of you (mostly Theo)

Smokes like a fucking locomotive! But Theo will try his best to tame it if you chide him for that, leading to him being moodier due to lack of nicotine and untamed oral fixation. Or you’ll just start smoking as well, chain-smoking together and stealing each other’s lighters

NSFW

So as I already mentioned, Theodore is a long-term relationship kind of person, meaning that he needs a strong emotional connection with certain person to have sex with them. I strongly believe that he had every kind of fiste sexual experience with you - making out, grinding, mutual masturbation, oral and sex itself. To put it simply - Theo was a complete virgin

I think Theo would postpone any kind of sexual experience with you for as long as possible, too afraid to make you feel pressured or thinking that he’s with you only for sex. Actually, it’s more likely for you to initiate anything of that sort, and he still asks you “Are you sure that you want it?” every five minutes. Isn’t he adorable?🥺

But once you’ve actually had sex, Theodore can’t help but be desperate for more. He tries to suppress those distracting thoughts of doing oh so unholy things to your precious body as much as he can, but he crawls to you so needy and whiny just two days after, begging to be close to you again. And how can you say no when he stares down at you with those puppy eyes, whispering about how pretty you are and how horny he gets just from thinking about you

Omg he defo had wet dreams about you before you started dating. Imagine Theo trying his hardest to not think about you, annoyed by how hard he had fallen, and his subconscious playing evil jokes on poor boy, giving him some pretty livid pictures of you two together. Not so innocent pictures, I must note. Okay, not innocent at all. Dreams in which you were sat on top of him, looking down at Theo with those alluring beautiful eyes of yours, your breasts on full display right before his eyes. Or where he was laying in-between your legs, pleasuring you with all he had. The first time it ever happened Theo was shaken awake by Blaise who was mumbling something about oversleeping. Thanks Merlin Theo was laying on his side, so that his painful boner wasn’t poking so obviously through layers of his blankets. He was so embarrassed by himself he couldn’t even look at you for the next few days

He doesn’t makes too much noise during sex. Theodore is a quiet person in general - he talks only when it’s necessary and prefers to listen to others instead. That be said - he loooves hearing you moan and whimper and plea and babble in pleasure, so don’t even try to hold all those sweet little noises in. He really feels awkward about making any noises himself, but he lets you know just how good you make him feel with his facial expressions, long sighs and countless praises muttered into your ears with his ‘sexy Theo voice’

Loves loves loves eating pussy. Oh, this man goes absolutely feral, working his mouth on you, tongue flicking over your clit in quick tight circles, giving an occasional suck. And this man has completely mastered (with your help, of course) the perfect combination of tongue and fingers, being able to give you a mind-blowing orgasm in just five minutes

Marking marking marking marking. Leaves marks everywhere he can - your neck, chest, shoulders, tummy, thighs- everywhere. And please, please leave marks on his as well - leave hickeys and bite-marks in the most obvious places - he’d never cover them in his life, wearing them as the most treasured jewelry - just let everyone know that he’s yours

One of Theodore’s biggest turn-ons is spitting in your mouth and making you swallow it. No I’m not sorry for that

His favorite position is definitely missionary, where Theo is half-lying on top of you, intense skin against skin contact, your legs draped around his hips, pounding deep and slow into your dripping pussy, all while gazing into your eyes lovingly

Omgomg imagine having passionate sex with Theo with lots of heavy touching and open-mouthed kisses all while songs from “Awaken, My Love!” album by Childish Gambino are blaring on the background *chokes on spit and tears*

And here’s a lil addition💖

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Give writers some love - feedback is the thing that inspires us on creating more new content💖

[deathdetermineslife]

Hiii, can you maybe do a list of things to do when your f/o is a vampire?

I don’t let him bite me tho teehee

so fun! I will try my bestest <3 some of these may be a bit silly bc I love very stereotypical vampires

you can purchase animal blood! if you're not very squeamish, write down the places you can get it so you can "give it" to your f/o.

if your vampire f/o can't be in the sun, make a wishlist on Amazon of hats and umbrellas you think they'd like to use.

if your vampire f/o has been alive/a vampire for a long time, look into the period they grew up in. if they were born in the 1600s in England, look into what their day to day life may have been like. what small, mundane things could you expect them to do then?

if they can't be around garlic, make a list of dishes that garlic is frequently used in! this is also fun just to learn about what ingredients go into different foods.

make "vampire" jewelry to give them. those fake blood bracelets, fill a little vile with some dyed liquid to look like blood and put on a necklace (I think isopropyl alcohol doesn't evaporate? you can probably google what you need to make jewelry like that), make a clay coffin pendant, things like that!

if you're the goofy type, find silly vampire puns to tell them.

if they need to hide that they're a vampire and have the two bite marks on their neck, maybe make a Pinterest board of clothes you think they would wear to hide them!

this is more of a general f/o thing, but if you have the sims and the vampires dlc, make them. maybe I'm biased bc it's my favorite dlc tho

if they have an interest (or dislike) of cheesy, dumb vampire movies, totally watch them together. there's so many. same goes for vampire books

if they have a bat form, maybe make a cozy little place in your room you can imagine them hanging out in

if they're the kind of vampire to sleep in coffins, totally look into different coffins. some of them are so pretty and fun looking.

assuming they can only go out at night, find some activities they could do to enjoy nocturnal life!

this one was fun. maybe it was a tad too cliche? but I like them. also it was a challenge not writing any biting ones! which was also fun.

[milfgyuu]

so, in 2022 I think I wrote near 30 stories and this past year….I only wrote about 6. it’s actually kind of crazy looking between those numbers and realizing this year was hard in soooo many ways. i lost my spark. my joy and passion all but evaporated bc life was constantly draining me. it’s not like i picked up a cool new hobby and dropped this one. i simply stopped or tried/gave up bc i couldn’t push forward. i didn’t have the time or the energy. i’d feel close to finishing something and then not be able to touch it for months on end. that habit bled into my personal life and it feels like im drowning. behind on everything.

i don’t want to look back at the end of 2024 and find nothing has changed. i’m going to do really wonderful things this year for my family and for myself. i’m going to find simplicity. routine. set goals and meet them. i’m going to write. i’m going to write anything i feel like writing and finish everything i’ve been holding onto all this time.

i’m going to remember what happiness feels like and stop beating myself into the ground every single day. i can do this and if you’re feeling like me, you can do this to.

2024 is going to be my year to grow and shine ✨

[gothamslostboy]

Hi me again! Could I request Spencer Reid x trans male reader (ftm) with the prompts

“Please stay” and “It’s cold when your gone”

Where the 2 r js cuddling bc some asshole at y/ns work said some shit abt him being trans

Maybe a bit of making out but fs like kisses

Ty luv 🫶

- 🦭

A/N: hey 🦭, thank you for my first ever Spencer Reid request! This was a great experience to write and I hope you like it:]

Meliorism

WORDS: 850

MELIORISM (n.) the belief that the world gets better; the belief that humans can improve the world

Spencer Reid x FTM reader

SPENCER YOU

Spencer had 3 main amazing talents. His eidetic memory, which allowed him to recall the tiniest visual details of the things he sees, even if briefly. Reid could also read 20,000 words a minute, finishing books that would take a regular person multiple days in only a few hours. These are well known about Spencer, but, his third talent is something only you’ve experienced. He has the ability to read your emotions perfectly.

If he hadn’t already explained that the ability to be a genuine mind reader would require factors that don’t exist in our world, you would’ve been sure he was one. No matter how insignificant the feeling, Dr. Spencer Walter Reid knew you felt it. So it was no suprise when he was already at the door when you arrived home, scooping you into a hug and kissing your forehead.

Daniel said something again didn’t he? You know, even after one transphobic comment the U.S Equal Employment Opportunity Commission says that he can be fired. I’m sorry he does this Y/N, you deserve better. You let out a small chuckle as he continues to ramble about different papers and documents he’s read that could help. Just knowing how much Spencer wants to help makes the hurt you feel evaporate away for a bit.

I’m gonna be ok Spence, it just hurts to hear those things. Especially because he was a work friend before he found out I’m trans. You broke away from the hug to shrug the burgundy coat off your body, placing it on the coat rack before grabbing Spencer’s hand & walking towards your shared bedroom. I know Y/N, but you’re just too great of a guy to have to put up with hateful speech. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? I just want to lay down and watch a show, is Star Trek alright? He smiles, matching the small one on your face as he nods.

Sounds perfect! Did you know that Star Trek actually has very little physics mistakes? Considering the time it was- Spencer’s phone rings, cutting off a rant you were honestly interested in hearing. He answers, the corners of his mouth dropping back down as he exhales. He nods his head a few times before excusing himself to the person on the other end of the phone. Sorry Hotch, just a moment. You’re now back to feeling the same disappointment you had earlier, Aaron only calls after 6:00pm when there’s a case.

Y/N, im so sorry, Reid cups your face with his left hand. There’s a briefing for a case, we leave early tomorrow. Please stay. You lean your face into his hand even more. I know it’s selfish, but I just don’t want to be alone…. Its not selfish. A quiet silence fills the moment. Spencer examines you for a second before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. He guides you onto the bed, pulling off your shoes and turning on Star Trek. He exits the room and moves the phone back to his ear. You sigh, knowing that the case is important or he would’ve stayed.

Surprisingly, Spence re enters about 10 minutes later, with waters and your favorite snack. I thought- I can read the case files on the flight tomorrow. There’s more than enough time and Hotch said he’d fill me in on any other information needed. You hug his side as he sits down, pulling yourself close enough to rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the show. Thank you Spence. It’s better when you’re here, the house is so cold when I’m alone. He turns your head to face his, you come first Y/N, always.

Both leaning in for a slightly intense kiss, time passes and you realize 1 and 1/2 episodes have played in the background. You two had got so caught up in eachother that the tv noise had been completely forgotten. Spencer shares one more peck, before turning back to the screen. I thought you just wanted to lay down and watch a show? We haven’t done very much of that have we? A snicker escapes you as your eyes roll playfully.

Alright, I know. You’ve seen this show a hundred times- 68 and 3/5ths. Reid beams at you as you raise an eyebrow. Ok, you’ve seen this show 68 & 3/5ths times, what’s happened so far in this episode?

He begins to tell you all the needed context for the episode, and then some extra. You lean back against his shoulder and you two hold the hands closest to eachother, the horrible day of work completely forgotten.

Spencer tended to do that. He made all your bad days turn into good ones. You knew no matter how many people tried to hurt you, to tear away your happiness, that people like Spencer Reid existed. People who spend everyday trying to fix this broken world. You knew that meeting Spencer and falling in love with him was the luckiest thing a guy like you could do.

[lesbiankordian]

aromantic thoughts

in one book about transness i read, the author said that even if you go through transition, even if you accomplish everything trans related you wanted, the feeling, the years, of sadness and alienation just don't go away and are always somewhere deep inside you. you may still compare yourself to cis people and still not feel enough. even if transphobia magically evaporated, your transness wouldn't - even if you had a perfect life with no transphobic incidents.

and it's exactly the same with aromanticism. i generally feel good. but there are days where i just can't understand why i can't feel the same way as other people do. why i can't understand that one (supposed to be universal) beautiful poem about love. why most people's values are a bit different than mine. why i can't be truly happy in a queer club, because there are people in love everywhere and my friend's talking to me about her love problem with a guy and the people next to me are all flirting with each other and a girl's hitting on me but i'm afraid bc she'll probably stop when i say "hey, i don't wanna go on a date. ever. but we can kiss if you want". (don't even know if i actually like doing that).

many times i feel like that while talking about friends. life. attitude, not necessarily towards relationship things. it doesn't have to be anything romantic. bc romance as a norm goes so deep you're reminded everyday you're different, and that your difference - if you show it to others - is a rather bad thing in their morality spectrum. everytime i think about that i wonder if i'm not confusing aromanticism with sth different, but i do think aromanticism falls under that category too.

the author of the book i mentioned said that when she first realized she was trans, she was terrified of the thought that was how her life was gonna look like - after all those awful years, it'd only go downhill (realization, transition process etc), this time bc of her own actions. similarly, i know the way i live now is the best for me (probably). but i do that deliberately. i could stop anytime and try to go against myself, caring for someone the way my friends seem to be able to. i long for that, simultaneously knowing i wouldn't last a minute.