#he is literally an immovable being

[garoujo]

nagi flops down on top of your blankets and then doesn’t move when you struggle to pull them out from underneath him

[dootplusone]

(OG post has Reblogs turned off. You can find it here!)

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(If the OP would prefer this post not link back to the OG post or is otherwise is not okay w/ this post in reference to theirs, please let me know in some form so I can delete/edit it as needed.)

Thinking. Abt this but with Bones. Like. Post-Tholian Web? Post-Mirror Mirror?

For AOS, could be after Into Darkness and/or Beyond.

A Bones who's just. So anxious. So stressed. So overwhelmed that it starts taking a toll on his health. Maybe he doesn't even realise - or maybe he does and tries his best to push through it until it knocks him on his ass. Kind of in the vein of "You don't actually know how tired you are until you stop. And then you just physically cannot start again." It becomes his new baseline, a problem that just brews and storms in the distance.

And he just carries on. And keeps going and going and going until one day he realises that 'Oh fuck, I'm not okay' and has about 5 seconds of warning before he straight up collapses, doesn't matter if it's on the bridge, in the madbay, on a planet - he's going down. (Maybe a repeat of Tholian Web where he just straight up faints into Spock's arms? Full whammy, why not)

Maybe it's a high-tension situation getting resolved that does it. The pure relief of it reminds him of how tired he is. How tired he's been for a while. His body sees that momentary rest and goes "More of that, please. And I'm not asking."

And he's so rendered by it that he doesn't grumble about being coddled like he normally would when he wakes up. He knows not to fuck with the medbay staff - they're just as firm as he is on recovery, and that's not by accident - and he knows that Spock and Kirk will be hovering, because they see any problem as something they, too, should shoulder the burden of.

...And because they're some of the most protective people in the damned universe. And that goes for pretty much all the people on board the Enterprise.

In some scenarios, it's just a case of letting his body and mind rest properly. In others, there's a lot more recovery involved than anyone initially expects. Luckily for him, he has a found family who are determined to be there with him at every step. It just takes a couple reminders, every once in a while.

[ohitslen]

Knowing in my head that Vashwood would never work out if they were in a sentimental relationship adds a fundamental layer of delusional in my own personal VW experience

[darjeelinh]

Dreamling x EEAAO

In the context of EEAAO historic win today, I want to dump my brain about this dreamling fic I am writing that unexpectedly resembles a lot of the themes in this beautiful movie.

(Sandman comics spoilers from here, and TW for suicide mention, sr)

(And EEAAO spoilers, I guess)

TL;DR: Bringing Dream back from his own catastrophe would be almost impossible. Hob's love alone cannot save him, but it can give him enough strength to want to save himself.

(tag: Established Dreamling Relationship, Canon Divergence)

So we all know by the time The Kindly Ones came around, Dream is fully in his self-destructive, suicidal mode. And maybe I am projecting but in a time like that, it is nearly impossible for anyone, especially himself, to pull out of his own catastrophe, his spiralling. Doesn't mean that he doesn't love Hob, you must understand this.

Hob would not be able to hurt/comfort Dream back from his self-destruction even if he wanted to. Even if we as readers and fic writers were desperately hoping that he could. But one thing we can know damn sure is that he will try. That man has the stubbornness that could last longer than this earth, I believe so.

So he will try. But he will fuck up trying, because he is not Dream's personal therapist (nor should he be), and I kinda believe Hob to not be the most wise and empathetic and sensitive of man. We all saw him fucking up constantly throughout the ages, him being obnoxiously wrong. He would panic in the face of his lover's self-destruction, and he would hold on to him tight, desperately begging for Dream to be better, but that can be suffocating.

Depression and suicidal ideation cannot be cured just through loving someone harder, true. But damn can love make a difference. It is a lifeline amidst a shipwreck in the storm, but only if the person wanted to hold on to it. And in The Kindly Ones, Dream had believed that there is no lifeline. That there is no other choice. But what if he had been reminded?

Think of Evelyn, ready to destroy her own life, only to be reminded of her kind and relentless loving husband.

Think of Joy, determined to walk into the black hole, only to turn around and realize she was being held back by her mother, her father, her grandfather, and everyone else.

Think of Joy, spending her life seeking understanding and love, only to run away, cannot bear it when it is offered to her.

Think of Evelyn, refusing to let her daughter go. Her words were clumsy, maybe she was not the most sensitive about it, and maybe she didn't really know what to do. Besides holding on.

You cannot forcibly love someone back to being whole again. But you can say: I will not give you up, I will always choose you, I will always be here, even though it is hard, even though it is impossible. And offer the rope again: maybe this time they will hold on to it.

Hob has no idea what to do, and he would be very afraid. He had tried everything to save Dream, and he had failed. After all, he is only human, dealing with hubris of cosmic entities, unfathomable forces beyond his comprehension. And for once, Hob learned what it really meant to be hopeless, and helpless. He might have been able to pull himself out of the wretched 17th century, but that was because he had wanted to. And so Hob had to reckon with the fact that he cannot save someone who does not want to be saved.

So maybe Dream would still try to push Hob away one last time. He is too far gone, beyond saving. Giving up would be easier than to endure. Easier than to accept that he is loved, or believe that he deserves a chance at redemption.

So, empty handed, Hob can only do what he does best. He would not budge, despite all of Dream's exasperated attempts to fight him off. He would hold Dream in his arms, gently this time, and say: I know. I know you think so. I have no idea how to save you, and I don't think I can. But I will be by your side anyway. I can love you, for it is the only thing I can do. This is my choice as much as it was your choice to destroy yourself. I won't give up even if you do.

Finally, something clicked. It would be like waking up from a nightmare (which is kinda ironic for Dream, isn't it). He would finally look around him and see all who have tried to hold him back from the metaphorical (and literal) cliff. It's Matthew, refusing to leave his side. It's Lucienne, his faithful advisor who had not lost faith in him, who had always had his well-being in her mind. It's Merv, ready to go to war for him. It's Nuala, using her only boon to try and save him. It's Delirium, desperate to pull him away from his own spiraling. The list goes on.

And maybe, maybe, it is simple like that. Let yourself be loved. To be loved, is to be changed. And to change, Dream found out, is to learn how to live and earn his redemption. Not by walking into the abyss. (Thanks @ennas-aesthetic for this point ❤️)

And only then, could he find away to stop the destruction of the Fates. It would be an uphill battle, and he might lose still, and there is no guarantee that he will not spiral into depression in the future. He would never have all the right answers. But now he knows he has his lifelines. And fuck it, he wants to try.

All we have is others. All we have is love. It is the corniest of story, perhaps, but it is never less true. And maybe it is just enough.

(There will be much more to this fic but here is the philosophy, I guess, behind the fic I want to write. Will update this post once the fic is out.)

[hyumjim]

As a completely unbiased party here i must tell u ive observed the levels of hyunjin-directed lust have spiked massively in recent weeks or even months. jisung has been flubbing it with him constantly but changbin and lee know as well have really been pushing it with him and he looks extremely exhausted every time. (note that 2/3 of the culprits are HIS ROOMMATES oh you know it's bad for him.) now obviously all of this is happening as hilarious "jokes" and i think the bottom line is this would be deeply frustrating behavior regardless of your sexuality (as i cannot speak to hyunjin's identity ON THE RECORD). so i have a theory that part of his reason for dramatically chopping his hair is to try and curb this behavior, thinking that maybe if his hair is very short they will remember he is a dude and stop trying to make him their very funny joke prison wife. of course this is not going to work and im sure hes realized that by now but i fw him for trying <3

[godborn]

“   you were a mistake i never should have made .   ” ( have some mudad angst 🙃)

             source :   prompted   /   status :   accepting .

    like a knife to the throat ,   the words cut deep enough to rip any response giorno may have attempted to utter to ribbons .   rehearsed restraint begins to unravel ,   roseate lips falling slightly open ,   but enough to illustrate the white - hot   hurt   burning through his viscera   &   spreading like venom from his core to the furthest of his extremities .   it’s like he always knows   exactly   what to say to exacerbate any cracks in his defenses ,   &   giorno knows that his father’s influence over him only exists because of some   piddling weakness   that remains the sole trace of the wounded child he once was .   no matter how high he builds himself up ,   no matter what he accomplishes   &   overcomes ,   there will always be this ,    &   he will   never   be enough for him .

    “   . . .   ”   regardless of the unbearable sting ,   giorno knows that dio is seeking   a reaction   more than anything else ;   wanting to see him crumble ,   prove something   about some perceived failings giorno exhibits as part of his legacy .   giorno will not allow him to have that .   not this time .   thus ,   he tasks every molecule of his composition with packing in   tighter ,   keeping him in one piece   &   enabling him to keep his head high .   he should have accepted that dio would   never   be the father he wanted ,   needed ,   &   softening his grip on the hopes of a naïve child would offer him the strength to feel nothing when he spits venom like a cobra ;   the antidote .

    yet ,   he cannot undo the longing for a figure that would bestow the love of which his mother just wasn’t capable ;   the refuge he sought in projecting fantasies onto his father ,   casting upon him the light of a   savior   that could heal him with proof that he was wanted by at least   one   of the people responsible for bringing him into the world .   but that just isn’t true .   he   wasn’t   wanted ,   isn’t   wanted ,   &   he was a mistake that never should have been made .

    so be it .

    “   how unfortunate ,   ”   he mutters at last ,   aquamarine clashing with amber   ━━━━   the sea crashing against twilight’s horizon .   “   you are never satisfied with anything   . . .   you only ever speak of failure   &   shortcomings   &   point your eyes toward something   distant ,   always seeking but never   seeing .   ”   giorno’s expression is empty ,   a false image of serenity ,   but there’s a roaring fire in his eyes that even a sightless man could perceive .   “   valuing your impression of me would be a thankless effort because i could never be like you .   ”

    silence stretches on for a beat or two ,   &   though he can feel his heart at the base of his throat ,   the apparition of a smile stretches the seam of his lips .   “   i suppose , then , it’s appropriate that your approval is as valuable to me as the job you’ve done as a father ,   ”   giorno remarks ,   light flashing across his eyes like a moonbeam ,   “   useless .   ”

[get-along-little-khornedoggie]

So the thing about c!Technoblade (I say, as if there is only one thing) but one thing about him that always sticks with me is the choice of his codename in the Syndicate.

Because at first glance, Protesilaus was the first bloodthirsty stab-happy warrior off the boat in the Trojan War, eager for battle, unheeding of death, which is one way to view c!Techno's character (how many times did characters view him as a resource or a weapon before or even after Doomsday, where he was literally screaming, "I'M A PERSON!").

And at second glance, he’s a willing martyr, who knew about the prophecy that the first man to land at Troy would be the first to die, and would rather it was him than his friends, which is another way to view him, one that seems closer to who he actually is ("leave Phil alone, just take me!", anyone?).

But c!Technoblade chose his name without ever abandoning his catchphrase of "Technoblade never dies", which is what sticks with me -- because he didn't just state that he'd die for his friends and leave it at that. He promised to protect them and to live for them.

Protesilaus is destined to be the first of his comrades to die by immovable fate, but also Technoblade never dies, which means that none of his comrades will, either.

He made it a promise. "I won’t die, therefore the gods will have no choice but to let all my friends live."

By something as simple as choosing a name, c!Technoblade (who for months was wary of identifying who his friends even were, especially after what the Butcher Army did to Philza, whose only crime was being his friend) told everyone in the Syndicate that if harm came to them, it would be because he was already dead, and that he never intended to let either of those things happen.

[muntitled]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫: 𝐑𝐢𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

★ ot7 x fem!reader

★ The Riize members who would respond the best at being called 'Daddy' (Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin)

★ warnings: nsfw, +18, dom/sub dynamics, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Phone sex

─── ⋆⋅ Shotaro

Your voice is stern and remarkably unimpressed when you call your boyfriend's name from the kitchen. Only a couple seconds later, and Shotaro is lazily strolling in... large hands buried in his pockets with that distinct smile stretching the corners of his full lips. His eyes swell with mischief as he leans against the fragile counter.

"Yes, my love?" He sings in a tone of voice that Shotaro weaponizes against you time and time again. When his voice was as airy as it is right now, drenched in literal honey, it proved significantly difficult not to give into his advances.

Right now, however, you're perfectly unaffected by his smile. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, giving him a death glare as you lean against the counter adjacent to him.

Shotaro's smile is immovable.

"God, you're so sexy when you're frustrated." He pushes himself over the counter, slyly prowling his way to you. "Makes me wanna-"

You push lightly at his chest. Turning instead, to just your head at the pickle jar sitting idly on the counter beside you both. "Open it."

Your voice is stern and monotonous with all traces of jest gone. "I don't have time for your nonsense, Shotaro."

"Ooh!" He exclaims, "My government name? You must really be mad," he snickers before bending down to splay slow wet kisses along your cheek.

"Shotaro." You push at him again, but his hands immediately fly to your hips.

"I'll open it," he whispers, voice heavy, "Just ask nicely," therein lay the proverbial catch. Shotaro could never just be nice for the sake of it. There was always a catch.

"Just..." he places his index finger under your chin, dragging your face up until your eyes were piercing into his. "Just ask me nicely."

Your breathing grows increasingly labored because your boyfriend is unfortunately incredibly attractive and incredibly persuasive. You watch the longing in his eyes grow with immense skepticism.

"I'll just ask Sungchan-"

He cackles loudly, "Do that and you won't get to cum for a month." He's smiling with his head tilted but one thing you learned was that Shotaro rarely ever made idle threats.

"Now c'mon," he says, bending down to you, "Just ask."

You're slipping unceremoniously into your subspace because he's cradling your face now. His shoulders are hunched over you protectively and you close your eyes as you force those words out.

"Please open the jar for me-" You begin, but his grip on your face is unrelenting as he sings, "Aaaahh-"

"Please open the jar for me," Your shoulders slump and exhale in defeat, "Daddy."

"See! How easy that was?" He praises you with a big peck on lips before swerving to pick up the jar of pickles. The big dopey grin he sports makes your embarrassment worthwhile, and Shotaro watches as you munch on your pickles.

"I like it when you ask for my help!"

─── ⋆⋅ Eunseok

It happens during dinner, more specifically, a group dinner to which you were so graciously invited along with the other partners of the other members. Excitement flowed like an electrical current in the air and everyone seemed pleasantly tipsy, whether by alcohol or just the overly infectious and good vibe. Naturally, your inhibitions are on an all time low, as you lazily leaned into your boyfriend while a flurry of waiters brought forth the second course.

Eunseok had been comfortable extending his voice over the chatter in the room while still allowing you to keep a steady grip around his bicep. His hand lazily sitting atop your lap, rubbing dizzying circles on your exposed thigh.

You're not sure how long this had been going on, Eunseok's fingers gradually hiking your pleated skirt up higher and higher while he remained chatting with his friends.

You couldn't contain yourself once his hand finally slipped inside, up under your skirt...

Instead of stopping him, instead of pushing him away by the hardened contours of his bicep, you let it happen. Releasing a small, little exhale as you opened your legs ever so slightly.

Despite still in animated conversation with Shotaro, you could hear the smirk peppered in his voice as his fingers eased their way against your cunt.

The mewl that escaped your throat was downright ungodly, but it succeeded in lightly coaxing Eunseok away from his previous conversation.

His eyes are heavy with seamless intoxication as he looks down at you with a breathless, close lipped smile. It's as if him previously ignoring you, had been It's own thing, along with rubbing your soaking cunt under the table.

Eunseok's eyes are glimmering when he bends down to whisper,

"You good?"

You most certainly did not have the current brain capacity to tell him you were absolutely not good because you've taken to opening your legs even wider. You shift uneasily, trying to create as much friction while still appearing inconspicuous, and Eunseok's eyes only grow heavier.

He fucking adores seeing you needy. He loved pushing you past the bounds of your own sensibilities. When your relationship began, it had been a case of 'if'. Whether it was actually possible to have his overly smart, overly independent girlfriend, cock drunk to the point incoherence. Once Eunseok learned that you were a fan of forfeiting the power in the bedroom, his goalposts had shifted to 'how quickly' he could get you to become a messy, needy little slut.

Evidently, this evening, it did not take much at all and he thanked the alcohol.

Panicking, you chose instead to focus on what was in front of you. A plate of glazed skewers that remained untouched, "Um..." you begin awkwardly while viciously apptempting to stave off just how needy you were, "I didn't order that-fuck," Your sentence wavers into a haorse crack as Eunseok's finger swipes over your puffy, clothed clit. In your periphery, his giant frame bends over your like an umbrella, focusing on your each and every movements.

"I didn't ask for..." You're absolutely fargone at this point, stopping and starting sentences while your brain fought the pleasure, "I didn't ask for the glazed squid skewers."

"You were in the bathroom," he immediately adds, and a jumpstart in conversation from the rest of the room would have completely made his next words go unnoticed. However, because you were hanging over everything falling out of his lips, you most definitely heard it. "I ordered for you."

Eunseok's fingers finally push past the barriers of your drenched panties, making direct contact with your weeping cunt.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"Fuck- no, Daddy."

You immediate slapped a hand over your mouth, letting yourself whimper into the palm of your hand as your heart raged in its cage.

His face is expressionless.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" There was a dangerous, heavy lilt in his voice that made you assume you wholly and completely fucked up. For all of 2 seconds you mourn your own dignity. That was made even worse when Eunseok pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and up from under your skirt as he patted the material over your legs.

"We're leaving." He said to the rest of the group, "She has a work thing,"

He pulls you up by your forearm, leading you to pass his members and their unsatisfactory rumblings.

Before you even mame it outside, he pulls you towards him, letting his warm breathe ghost over your ear as he hissed, "I need you to call me that shit again," he breathes out. "This time, with my dick inside you."

─── ⋆⋅ Sungchan

His brows are glimmering with evidence of pregnant beads of sweat, but still, his mouth is unrelenting. Sungchan eats you out with absolute zeal every single time without fail. Some nights, your sex would consist purely of Sungchan pulling your legs over the side of his bed, while his tall frame descended on your weeping cunt as if it were his second dinner. He was brash and incredibly passionate, as he locked his giant arms around your arms when he caught sight of you trying to escape.

For the most part, however, Sungchan's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust as he French kisses your pussy like he his life depended on it.

"Fuck, Channie-"

A sharp pinch on your thigh releases a very curt, very loud yelp from your throat, and you glare down at him. Sungchan's eyes are deadly as he pulls his head back ever so slightly. His lower face is glistening with your juices, but he refuses to wipe anything away.

"Am I not eating you out good enough?" He asks, head tilting as if he were genuinely perplexed. "Why would you call me Sungchan," he sneers at the very thought.

"Ew." He adds, before lowering his face back down to your center.

"The sooner you take what I'm giving you, the sooner we'll both get to cum," he did not clarify further as he reattached his eager lips to your cunt. Sungchan was not lying about the fact that he too was quickly approaching orgasm. He's pushing his cock into the side of bed, where he kneeled. Ab muscles tightening as he splays sloppy kisses on your cunt. His tongue, delving past your folds, as far into your hole as it could go.

"J-Just like that, Daddy," Your fingers curl into Sungchan's hair and he perks up like an overstimulated puppy. His eyes crinkle at the sides as he moans straight into your pussy.

Sungchan's hips thrust against the bed, almost at the exact same pace his tongue was fucking up into you. All you saw were stars, and your vision blurred as you pulled his face even closer against your pussy.

Although he enjoyed everything you gave him, Sungchan would admit in a heartbeat that this was his favorite part. This is why he loved eating you out. He loved the depravity of it. He loved watching you loose every shred of sinisibility, belonging to him and him alone.

"That's it, baby," he'd whisper, "Doing so fucking good for Daddy..."

─── ⋆⋅ Wonbin

Your heart is swollen in its cage when you realize he's most definitely tired. Instead of resting his undoubtedly tired muscles, letting sleep take him away into the night garden, he is up, talking to you.

"-That was probably my favourite part. Although I do think I could've probably done better in the second verse..."

Tedium is thick in Wonbin's voice. Almost as thick as the gruff tenor that flows from his mouth, through the receiver held to your ear.

"Didn't I say you're not allowed to do that," You scold lightly.

He sighs heavily through the phone, and you can almost imagine his dark eyes rolling, "I shouldn't focus on anything out of my control, I know that."

You nod. "What's done is done, and I think you killed it thank you very much,"

You may never really know of the cataclysmic effect your praise has on your boyfriend. Even when you were a billion kilometers apart, being connected by a single phone call, Wonbin still feels his body heat up as if you were right there, in bed beside him. He can practically feel the bed dip in the phantom presence of your curves shifting up against him. If he closed his eyes and listened to your praise bleed from the receiver, he could imagine you were right underneath him, taking everything he had to give.

"Binnie?" You suddenly ask, and Wonbin snaps his eyes open, gazing up at the ceiling. Although he is alarmed to find that his hand had drifted underneath the waistband of his Nike sweatpants, Wonbin's voice is stable. Giving nothing away as he breathes out,

"I'm here. I'm just..." His words do not trail off indefinitely because Wonbin does not gave the capacity to sound unsure about anything. In fact, he sounds very much in control.

"I need you to tell me where you are right now..." that causes you to sit up straighter against the headboard, a rush of excitement spanning through the undercurrent of blood in your veins.

"I'm at home," you whisper back, not quite sure why you were whispering but feeling the need to nonetheless.

"Hmmm," the sound reached your ears with the satisfaction of a very big purring cat, "Can you touch yourself for me?"

You obey without a second thought. Wonbin had never been easy to overstep. His overall aura practically coaxed you into obeying his every word and so it is of no surprise to you, that your hands are already firmly down your shorts, legs parted as you grinded against your palm.

Your labored breathing is enough to push Wonbin even further down his spiral of lust and he groans as he says, "Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby," how you adored hearing his pet names, especially when your mind was utterly buzzing with desire. "Imagine I'm there with you right now-"

"Oh, fuck," easing your fingers inside of yourself had been far too was given just how slippery your pussy was. Wondbin begins to stroke his cock faster as the lewd sounds of you fucking yourself with your own fingers, travel through the receiver.

You're a moaning and whimpering mess while Wonbin's only noise of enjoyment is his heavy, labored breathing. His mouth is open and his eyes closed shut.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," He says, kneedeep into his own fantasy, "Taking me so fucking well." He strokes himself faster. "Are you close, baby?"

"F-fuck yes, Daddy." The first real and raw sound of lust slips passed Wonbin's mouth.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum." He whispers with his mind still reeling. "Say it again... Tell daddy just how close you are to making a mess on your fingers..." He urged, now on the doorstep of his orgasm, "Fucking say it again, baby... Please?"

[izvmimi]

cw: repost. oral (fem giving), inexperienced!zhongli.

for someone who’s been alive for well over 6000 years and prides himself on knowing... well, everything, zhongli isn’t always well-experienced.

not in one particular domain, anyway.

there’s a lot you have had to teach him about life among mortals that fails to be captured by faraway observation or between the pages of a thick encyclopedia. 

but he learns quickly. always.

“t-too many!” you blurt out breathlessly, pulling your lips away from him to gently push his hand out of the way. you have been making out, your back against the wall by a bookcase in his living room, your arms around his neck, one leg hiked up and hooked around his waist to allow him access to your pussy. zhongli’s fingers look slender and delicate when compared to his large hand, but each finger is quite thick and he’s made it up to three in your hole while sticking his tongue down your throat. the stretch would be delightful if not for the fact that you haven’t been made ready yet.

he pulls out immediately, murmuring a word of apology. his cheeks are still flushed and the golden glow in his red-rimmed eyes hasn’t yet faded. mouth still slightly parted and wanting, he waits for your next step.

is it a hard stop you’re requesting? he doesn’t want to stop. his heart is pounding quickly and frankly he’d like to simply bury himself inside you at this point and lose his mind but he knows some restraint.

easing his internal distress you smile and kiss him on the cheek. 

“let’s do something different.”

something different is having him sit back at the chair where he had been catching up on some reading just before you’d gotten entangled. you turn him in the chair to face you; he takes a careful look at your expression, unable to discern whether or not you’re angry.

knowing fully well what he’s thinking, you decide to be forthright with your intentions. leaning over him in his chair, you ask,

“do you trust me?” there’s a mischievous glint in your eye that he should be a little wary of. his eyebrows knit together but he replies yes.

“stay still then,” you sing. zhongli is normally controlled to the point of being immovable, but now you can feel how tense he becomes gradually as you slowly unbutton his pants. 

zhongli’s erection is impressive in size, as you are well aware, with hardness fitting the literal god of rocks. his eyes lower as your hand circles the base, your touch light enough simply to cause him some nervous anticipation. you pause, appreciating the heat, and he fights the instinct to move against your palm.

“sweetheart...” he starts hesitantly, as you move painfully slowly to your knees. there’s a thickness to his voice that betrays his arousal. “what are you doing?”

his legs part to make room for you as you approach closer. from this angle, you realize you haven’t taken a very good look at his cock before. a lovely light brown, perfectly straight and thick all around with a prominent vein on the underside and a healthy blush at the head. he’s leaking from the slit, possibly more so because you’re staring at his package so intently. he might cum just from the sight.

you pump just once before wrapping your lips around the head and he deteriorates.

“shit.”

zhongli's speech has always been proper up until now. but at this very moment, as he feels the warmth and wetness of your mouth that is similar but also far different from the warmth of your walls, there’s no polite way to express the fact that he’s never had his head spin in exactly this way before. there’s only the deep moans that leave his throat as you hollow out your cheeks and take in as much of him as you can in your throat and tense grip in your hair that can express his excitement. his head falls back and he seems to wear away in his chair, then maybe he’s far too overwhelmed and trembles his hips jerk upwards, meeting your ministrations up and down his shaft.

his hands find their way around the back of your head as he fucks your face and gingerly, then with more force, he pushes himself even further into you, and tips over; you can feel hot cum hit the back of your throat and you breathe diligently through your nose, digging your hands around his hard thighs for steadiness.

zhongli has always looked at you with awe but now as you swallow every drop and pull back so you can breathe freely once again, giggling a little at his flustered/partially terrified face, he’s certain you’re a goddess.

“you must teach me how to do that for you.”

you straddle his lap and walk a few fingers onto his chest.

“now?” you tease.

“now.”

[bambisnc]

i'm like some kind of supernova [ft. u.ae]

⤷ pov : literally all of the clocks of your house stop working and a random girl falls into your house?? she says she's like .. a goddess?? and now you've agreed to help her find her colleagues that disappeared?? or else she might torment you for all your life???

pairing : timekeeper!giselle x reader genre : serious codedish + crack cw/tw : talks about dying/not dying + giselle talks old timey-ish for a couple mins + lowk this is a fever dream + uneditted womp womp wc : 914 woooo !!

the strange quiet should’ve tipped you off.

when you woke up from an (unusually) dreamless sleep, your first instinct was to fight the urge to look at your phone and instead focus on the digital clock situated to the left of your bed. 

you were trying to make a conscious effort to “stop being dependent on your phone” and metaphorically touch grass.

and, obviously, that was your first mistake. 

the flashing numbers of the screen looked back at you, almost defiantly. 00.30.

one look at the sunlight streaming in through a conveniently located window proved that incorrect immediately. 

the clock appears to be broken.

pretty normal occurrence, could happen to anyone.

but when you venture out to the dining room, another clock, one of the analog variety, proudly displays the hour hand at 1 and the minute hand at 8. 

the clocks in the living room, guest room and kitchen all respectively seem to believe it’s around 2.45, 3.06 and 4.58 am respectively.

you can no longer put this off to a coincidence and the realization that there may be some foul play at work shakes you to the core. 

until, of course, there is a loud BANG! and a girl falls right on top of you. 

by then, your only coherent thought is AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

the girl groans, likely in pain from the fall (where did she fall from??? is she a neighbour and did your ceiling just … break down??). she’s quick to regain composure however.

“greetings mortal. be not afraid for i am merely a being that most humans desire to have control over, despite knowing how utterly unattainable it is.

i am giselle; the keeper of time, in its purest essence.”

“your name tag says uchinaga aeri though.” you gesture with your eyes as she still has your arms pinned down with just enough strength to render them completely immovable.

“and also,” your fight or flight reaction shows itself by a means of ceaseless curiosity, “isn’t time supposed to be .. an old bearded man holding an hourglass? wasn’t he called father time?

the time keeper/uchinaga aeri/giselle/ looks pissed. or is she just flustered??

“the name tag is just a slight error, okay?! and i actually DO have an hourglass. also assuming that time is “male” is sexist.”

“no that’s not what i meant-” you try to defend yourself, but she brushes it off with practiced ease.

“my colleagues and i recently faced a … misfortunate incident. they all disappeared soon after.  the thorough investigations i carried out right after lead me nowhere for quite a while. 

but now… my sources have led me to you, mortal.”

the way aeri giselle speaks is enough to show you that she would not hesitate to resort to any means necessary to bring back the people she’s lost. they are obviously much more to her than just “colleagues.” 

you admire that. but also … according to her “sources” doesn’t she think that you are the one responsible for the disappearances? 

giselle’s grip on your hands eases only slightly while your brain busily tries to make sense of the events; wondering if she perhaps terrified you into silence. 

you do not let that opportunity go to waste.

with a slightly awkward, not as suave movement as you would have liked it to be, you flip over so that the timekeeper is now below you. 

“mortal?!” she gasps out, “you dare manhandle one of the 4 Supernovas, the guardians of the universe?! why i should-”

“hear me out please, before you burn me to a crisp or whatever you’d like” 

giselle’s eyes twinkle. 

she snaps her fingers. and all the lights blink out.

you find yourself … in your bedroom? almost like you’ve been sent back in time to earlier the same day…

the time keeper sits at the edge of the bed, rather nonchalantly, for someone who looked like they were merely seconds away from..

“letting you age and age and age some more, until all that’s left of you is a shriveled husk and all you can think of is the sweet release of death; but alas you’ll never find respite, because i will simply ensure that you remain undying. i think that’s what i’ll do to you if you don’t cooperate <3 arson’s not really my thing, ningning however,-”

you interrupt her once more, probably not the best decision but you need to make your offer as soon as possible if you have any hopes of getting out of this alive, “i’ll help you.”

“what…?”

you ramble on about how all the clocks had stopped working and how you were 99% sure that this meant you were definitely a key part in helping to find the people who had disappeared.

it almost feels like an interview; trying to convince giselle to hire you as a helper and also, as a side bonus, not torment you for all of eternity. 

and surprisingly, it works.

as you’re ending your pitch, she suddenly leans forward so that her forehead almost touches yours. 

“rest up for now, then.” she says, “you need all the energy you can get for our mission. and if you even think of backing out…”

“i won’t!!” you affirm quickly, which makes her smile and

god she’s really pretty isn’t she? 

—

beep. beep. beep.

the digital clock on your bedside says it’s 00.30. 

you grab your phone.

the Contacts app opens up. the first saved number is of a certain timekeeper.

o giselle (NOT aeri.) xxxxxxxxxx

notes : I HATE THE TITLEEE IM MIGHT CHANGE IT IDK THO + [m.list] song rec : man idk i was js watching danny gonzales videos/horror video game playthroughs + supernova - aespa???

𐙚 . regulars : @skriri ⋆

[homunculus-argument]

One great thing about the Warhammer universe is the way the lore just boldly smooth sharks all over any "um akshually that is not logical/physically possible/tactically sensible", by just unflinchingly going "yes, this specific thing is so fucking cool that it can literally do that despite of it being impossible." It's an unstoppable force vs. immovable object, except that shit is dense enough to teach you the hard way that your Keen Enlightened Logical Intellect is not an unstoppable force. You will bend or you will break.

"This dude is so fucking badass he can chop a planet in half with his sheer willpower and his massive cock." "People can't do that. It's literally impossible to do that." "Yeah not normal people but this guy can." "It is physically possible for a human to do that." "Yeah for an ordinary mortal human. But this guy can." "Hold on, so he's immortal now, too?" "No, he's totally mortal. But not an ordinary mortal." "And how is that?" "Because he is so fucking cool."

[denofbloodandlove]

First Timer

Mandi looked at the store like some giant looming beast that she had to battle, never had she been to a sex shop and for good reason. The moment she even thought about sex her face flamed with heat, she was technically embarrassed.  Not because of the act of sex, but because of what she enjoyed watching.  Being only 21 and still a stupid virgin she had, one night, fell down a rabbit hole of aliens, tentacles, and ovipositors.  They only person in the whole world that knew was her best friend JJ, who was as gay and happy as a bag of sunshine and rainbows but also the biggest slut that Mandi knew.   He was the reason they were here at a place called OtherWorlds, a boutique for the weird and unusual.  But according to the website that JJ found, totally normal for people like her.  People who enjoyed the idea of monsters, suckers and knots filling up their bodies. JJ had wanted Mandi to be herself so, like a great best friend searched the world wide web and found this little nugget.  Forced her in the car and drove the three hours it took to show up.   “For fucks sake Mandi, walk in, it’s a sex shop not a fucking scorpion.  Which, by the by, I think they have dildos that resemble the tail.  Lets go!” JJ pushed Mandi over the curb and straight at the door.  The tiny bell jingled as the door opened and Mandi stood frozen at the sight.  JJ however ran right in and began looking. “Come on Mandi! It’s time you experiment!” He giggled as he held up a huge wiggly horse cock.  Covering her face with her hands, Mandi shuffled her way towards JJ.  “Would you stop that!” She whispered as JJ started to flick his wrist, making the soft cock go round in circles.  “I think I need one of these for me girlie!  Man this would feel great shoved in my ass!.” JJ exclaimed as a worker made their over with a grin on her face.   “First time huh?  We can always tell, either too shy or too excited. How can I help you guys? Looking for anything in particular?”   Mandi began to shake her head, but JJ being who he was cut her off.  “Yes, she needs tentacles.  Ovipositors with the eggs that come with.  A medium to large probably since she is……unused shall I say.”  “Oh gods above JJ, really?! Tell everyone that I’ve never had sex why don’t you, jeez.” Mandi buried her face in her hands as JJ laughed, but the woman just smiled and took hold of Mandi.  “I have the perfect stuff, come on.  Most people come in here like this, first timers, shy because of what they like but its no biggie.”  As Mandi followed the lady she looked on the walls.  Dildos of massive sizes were displayed, some had giant heads with long thin bodies while some were reversed, had a slender head but a massive shaft. Some were so large it looked like it would split her in half.  Gulping down what she knew was excitement she kept walking.  How could she be excited about her feeling like she would be getting cut in two?  Another section housed more horse cocks, small ones, medium, massive ones that looked like when fully inserted it could reach her throat.  Near the horse cocks, were wolves.  These too were in various sizes but they had knots as the bases.  Some had multiple knots throughout the shaft, going from regular at the head, knot, shaft, bigger knot, shaft, and even bigger knot.  Wouldn’t a person get stuck on that?   How would her cunt feel so stretched out that she would literally be stuck on a cock. Mandi felt sweat trickle down her back at the thought.   “You know I can tell what you’re thinking buy the looks on your face, you don’t hide your facial expressions well.  My name is Nimmie, and yes the wolf cocks do feel amazing stuck inside of you.  Too big to slide out but to big to push further in.  Your pussy trapped on an immovable object, trust me, its worth it. Worth the pain. The dragon cocks are much the same without the knots.”  Nimmie pointed towards a display case that housed a pleothra of muticolored dildos.  Some were short and fat while others had what looked like scales in different layers to add a whole new feeling as it pushed against the walls of a pussy or ass. “But these are what you’re after. Yes?” Mandi looked over her shoulder as Nimmie pointed to a blue/black wall.  Her mouth popped open as she saw so many different kinds of tentacle dildos. S-curved that ended in a point, short stubby ones that had a bulbous head, each one had different sized suckers on it, mimicking a real octopus.   “But, I think your friend mentioned ovis, you’re more interested in the eggs and the feeling of them inside you, right?  I’ve used one, fuck it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.  But that was our old stock we got some brand new ones no one has ever tried.  They look amazing.  Here.” Nimmie reached down and under a self, pulling out what looked like long slender tube with a short flat head on top.  It was a dark mossy green that faded into yellow at the tip.  Reading the package her eyes widened at the size.  Nearly nine inches in length  and at the widest nearly two inches at the base.  But what intrigued her more was the carton that was attached to the underside of the plastic container that held the cock.  “Its eggs! Look! Turn in over, each one is in their own cum, to give you that real effect.  So what you do, theres twelve by the way.  So what you do is you have to place the cock on the floor and through the opening at the tip of the cock, you just insert the eggs, push them all down and have your fun. As you fuck it, see the little button, you push that and the didlo will start to undulate and push the eggs into you, all that cum and eggs filling your cunt up.  When you’re done, pop off and push the eggs out, and repeat as many times as you want.  The cum, its some kind of new material that doesn’t wash away, like an egg sack thing. I dunno, but I can’t wait to try it myself..” Mandi turned the package over looking it over and listening to Nimmie talk about it.  Fuck, but she was wet just imagining it.  She had watched a porn with this woman who had something similar. The eggs had fallen out of her swollen cunt, falling to the ground in pleasurable ‘plops’.  She wondered if they would sound the same falling out of her.  And could she take all twelve at once? Mandi ran her hands over the eggs, thinking about where she could place it and fuck it. That was the moment JJ ran up to her, his arms filled with lube and cocks.  “Get me outta here girlie before I go broke.  You found something?” Nodding her head, she hid the ovi behind her and together they walked to the register.   ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “I know you got that egg thing girlie, call me after and tell me ALL about it! I for one am going shove these beautiful things up my ass.”  JJ kissed Mandi on each cheek and left her standing at her door with the black bag in her hand.  Excitement rode her.  Mandi could feel her slick cunt, needy and ready to take in her first dildo.  The apex of her thighs felt heavy with need yet hollow.  It was like a low ache, one that was almost painful right behind her entrance.  She could almost feel her own heartbeat in her pussy, each thump of her heart knocking at her tight entrance.  Placing her phone down, she hit record and then began to undress.  Throwing off her clothes, she knelt on the floor and positioned herself so she could watch her body take in the cock.  Once everything was lined up correctly, she opened the plastic package with trembling fingers.  The cock itself was soft and malleable, but at the thick base she could feel beads that would rotate upwards, she figured those were how the eggs would get pushed up and into her pussy.  Next she opened the eggs.  Sighing, Mandi reverently grabbed the first one.  Nimmie was right, it felt as if the egg was encased in the same slime like substance a chicken egg was surrounded by.  The clear like slime wiggled between her fingers as it slipped from her grip into palm after palm, her hands rotating to constantly catch it.  Biting her bottom lip, Mandi held it to her face and it roll against her cheek.  It felt so warm, almost as if the crate it was in kept them a certain temperature. Before she could think better of it, Mandi popped it into her mouth.  The gel like casing rolled on her tongue and nearly down her throat.  But the taste.  It was like an aphrodisiac straight to her pussy.  Juices flowed and coated her thighs as she leaned her head back and moaned, rolling the egg on her tongue and nearly down her throat. Gagging she coughed the egg up and into her hand.  She’d definitely  have to practice more on how to hold that in her mouth, maybe with the cock fucking her throat too.  Mandi fingered the cocks opening and watched as the egg slide down and into the tube where the other 11 quickly followed.   Taking a deep breath, Mandi ran her fingers through her swollen pussy, her clit was so enlarged it hurt, her fingers rubbed hard on her clit, eliciting a long low moan from her throat, then she squatted over the cock.  Her back was against a wall and with wide eyes she watched herself slowly get impaled on the camera of her phone.   Her tight pussy pushed against the head of the cock, opening her pushing against her maiden head.  She watched in fascination as her cunt spread, allowing a foreign object to be inserted, thankfully the cock wasn’t giant at the tip, but she could feel the resistance of her flesh, pushing back, not wanting anything to push past her barrier.  Her thighs burned as she lifted herself up slightly then fell back down a second time. This round pushed hard the cock breaking though and she let out a painful moan as the cock stretched her new flesh, up and down she moves, deeper and deeper her squats came as she fucked herself down nearly to the two inch base. Her pussy ached, burned as it stretched and tears welled in her eyes. It was too big!   But she thought about those wolf cocks and getting stuck, widening her stance Mandi leaned back and placed her hands on the floor and moved her hips.  Her pussy made sucking sounds as the cock moved in and out, deeper until she screamed in pain, fuck she wanted to get stuck, wanted this foreign cock with its eggs to seal her pussy as the eggs pumped into her.     Tears gathered in her eyes as she moved her legs farther out, her knees hit the floor with a sharp thud and she sat, forcing her pussy to sit down all the way on the cock.  Looking into her phone, she could see the skin stretched, her cunt swollen and red, her clit hard and ready for the slightest of touches to send her over the edge.  Taking a deep breath, Mandi lifted one leg and felt her way around the base, finding that button Nimmie talked about.  Pushing it down, the beads that sat at the base of the cock began to vibrate, rotate around and up.  Her cunt tightened its grip and her body jerked as she rotated her hips.  Fuck she could feel the eggs rising with the undulations of the beads.

“Fuck. Fuck, Fuck!” Mandi panted as her hand left the floor and slapped at her swollen clit in tandem.  She felt the first egg explode from the cock and straight into her, she could feel it right against her cervix, followed by another, then another.  Her hand slapped harder at her clit and as she moved she looked down at her flat belly, she watched as her skin moved, pushed out by the eggs filling her.

Her orgasm took root and she flung her head back and screamed.  Pressure like never before built low in her belly as she came.  Her hand never stopped slapping and rubbing her clit until it was too much and she lifted off the cock, her pussy releasing all her cum and juices in one great spasm.  She watched in awe as she squirted, the eggs falling out of her one by one with a wet slimy pop. One after another she watched as she forced her pussy to push the remaining eggs out, each one slowly falling to the floor.  Her pussy pulsed and her body trembled with aftershocks of the best fucking orgasm ever!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m telling you JJ I think I lost one! I have eleven eggs nit twelve! What happens if one is still inside me? What am I going to do? Go to the doctor and say hey doc by the way I fucked an alien dong, had its fake eggs shoved inside of me and now I lost one.  Can you look in my cunt and tell me what you see?”

JJ just laughed, “It probably rolled under something so stop freaking out! But look we need to go back to that store, cause girl I done used all that lube and those dildos! I’m so gaped I could fit my fist in there!” Shaking her head, she finished her conversation with JJ, thinking that he was probably right.  The eggs had come out at first so fast that she lost one.  Had to be.

That night Mandi lay curled on her side, her thoughts on sleep, her mind drifting off into nothingness, she felt a soft, wet squelch come from between her thighs.  Moaning in her sleep, her body thrashed about, wetness soaked her pussy and sheets as her legs spread by some unseen force.  Through her sleep, pain had her eyes flip open and she screamed as e cunt stretched.  Her knees bent and she rose on her elbows as she looked down her body.  One long thick tentacle slide from her cunt.  It was the same hues as the dildo, it slid from her pussy and onto her thigh, the rings of the suction cups molding to her flesh. Scrambling away, her body spasmed as the tentacle stayed stuck inside of her womb, the one long tentacle slithered off her thigh and moved up, the tip pushing through the slit of her wet core. The pointed tip flicked her clit hard enough to shock Mandi into pure pleasure.

“Ohmagod its real.  Oh fuuuck its real.” Her voice went from a high-pitched scared cadence to a low, pleasurable moan.  This is what she had fantasized about the first time she watched that damn porn.  Her fantasy becoming a reality.  The alien inside of her wiggled growing thicker, spreading her sunt much like the dildo did, stretching her to the point of pain, sealing tight.  The tip of the tentacle slide back and forth on her clit, the suction cups moving languidly over her clit, sucking and releasing each time with each suction cup.  The thick base shoved deep in her began to slither in and out, fucking her until she could no longer stand it, her orgasm tore through her body.  Her body bowed off the bed, every muscle seized in pleasure and her cum flowed from her pussy in great rushes around the tentacle. Her breathing labored she lifted her head to watch the tentacle move and slither back into her cunt, her lower belly becoming slightly pooched out where it rested in her womb.  

Would the other eleven eggs be the same? If they stayed in her would they hatch too?  How many could she keep inside of her at once?  She wanted to fond out.  Would it be like that porn?  A tentacle for every hole? Her mouth, ass and pussy all having one at the same time? Her pussy pulsed as her cum leaked from her open slit.  There was only one way to find out.  Jumping out of bed, she found the ovipositor, and began to pop the remaining eggs into the cock.  Her belly wiggled in anticipation as she positioned her phone once more, then sank low on the cock, hoping that the other eleven eggs would too take root inside of her womb.  

[perseephoneee]

ask me to dance? [isaac lahey x f!reader]

request: can you do some wholesome isaac content?

warnings: pure fluff. teenagers being awkward.

a/n: me? remembering to write? shocker. literally struggled with this lol but i'm here and i'm trying to write more in order to be a productive member of society. also i'm so in love with Isaac it's not funny *cries*

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

It never really got cold in Beacon Hills, considering it was located in California. Still, when temperatures started to fall to a mild climate, it signaled to the teen population that winter was fast approaching. And with that came Winter Ball. Which is all you've been able to think about. 

To anyone who would ask, it wasn't that big of a deal– but you secretly thought about it. All the outfits, the decorations, the romanticism of it all. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in you, especially as someone who has never had a date. It used to not bother you; you were happily involved in your studies or worrying about being murdered by a supernatural at any time. But then you started spending more time with a certain werewolf and thought it wouldn't be that bad to care about that stuff. 

"Do you think Scott is going to ask me?" Kira said, scaring you out of your thoughts as you closed your locker. You took in the dark-haired female beside you, her eyes questioning and fingers tapping her books. "Will I have to ask him?"

"He'll ask you," you sighed. "He trips over his shoelaces every time he walks down the hall."

"Maybe he didn't tie them well?" Kira looked down the hall as if the boy in question would show up. 

"He likes you," you sent a small smile. Kira relaxed slightly, loosening her shoulders before facing you with a questioning glance. 

"Do you have anyone to go to the dance with?" Kira inquired, plain curiosity in her eyes. You knew, though, that she wanted more info on if you liked anyone. Even with her as a good friend, you rarely discussed those feelings with anyone. Usually, you were the one everyone else confided in. 

"Might not even go," you averted your eyes as Kira slapped your arm lightly. 

"You have to go!" Kira begged. "I can't go alone if Scott asks me."

"Kira, you won't be alone if you go with Scott." She silenced you again with a sharp look. 

"You know what I mean," Kira sighed. "I just don't want you to shy away from something you might enjoy. Especially when I am certain some eligible young bachelor or bachelorette would be interested in going with you."

You pressed your back into your locker, looking down at your scuffed shoes rather than the girl beside you. You glanced up when you caught sight of Scott and Isaac in your peripheral vision. Kira grew still as she saw Scott shuffling closer to you to hide. You tried shoving her, but the kitsune was an immovable rock as Scott and Isaac got closer. You saw Scott's eyes light up as he caught sight of Kira, and you wanted to smile when Kira's cheeks deepened. You made it a point to not stare at Isaac next to him, even if you really liked the blue sweater he was wearing. It's purely observational, with no lurking feelings behind it. 

"Hey guys," Scott smiled, holding his backpack straps like a kindergartener on the first day of school. "Whatcha guys up to?"

"Talking about the dance," you answered right as Kira tried to pass your prior conversation off as nothing. She shot you an angry look, but you hid the smile on your face as Scott perked up. "Kira wants to go but worries about not having a date." The look Kira shot you could be akin to being burned in the seventh circle of Hell, but you knew that your fair-weathered friend would've spent the whole time pondering if Scott liked her rather than making a move. 

"I don't have a date either," Scott grimaced, trying to pass off as a smile. Kira visibly perked up, and you and Isaac barely hid smiles. "Maybe we can go together?" 

The glee that overtook Kira's eyes was radiant, and she nodded enthusiastically. "I would love that," Kira grinned. 

"Great," Scott beamed. "Can I walk you to class?"

Kira grabbed her books, sending you a look that said, "We'll talk later," while happily following the alpha wolf. You turned towards Isaac, feeling your heart start pitter-patter as he made eye contact with you. He gave you a shy smile, fidgeting with the books. 

"They seem happy," you sighed, trying to break whatever tension you imagined. 

"I'm glad it worked out," Isaac said, his steel blue eyes connecting to yours. "Scott was getting annoying."

"So was Kira," you slyly smiled. "What about you?" Isaac looked at you inquisitively. "Are you…going to the dance?"

"I don't think so," he mumbled, averting his eyes briefly. You felt your heart sink in disappointment. Luckily, you were spared a response with the bell ringing. 

"See you around, Lahey," you smiled jokingly, trying to brush off any lingering feelings you had. You turned on your heel and walked off towards the direction of US History. You barely paid attention in class, though, your thoughts consumed with the micro-interaction by your locker. You didn't like Isaac, right? You just were disappointed a good friend wouldn't be there at a dance you might not even be attending. Totally rational feelings. At least that was the mantra you kept repeating till the end of the school day. 

You managed to keep most Winter Ball-related thoughts at bay for the rest of the week while you helped the pack deal with whatever issue. Sometimes, it felt like you guys lived in a CW show with a villain of the week, but somehow, fighting and scheming became part of your routine. You would never admit it to anyone, but you did enjoy the research portion of your problems. Even if it was you and Stiles eating pizza in his room while staring at way too many red strings. It made you feel wanted in a way that you haven't before. By the end of the week, though, the only research you were doing was for a class project. You were already debating when you could (reasonably) quit for the night and curl up with some Netflix or Hulu. Your phone rang by the fifth academic journal, and you glanced to see Lydia's name lighting up the screen. 

"Hello," you said, setting your phone on speaker. 

"Dress shopping tomorrow. Are you in or out?" Lydia asked on the other line. 

"For what?"

"Winter Ball, obviously," Lydia scoffed, the sound of rustling clothes in the background telling you she was going through her closet. "The fact I've waited this long when it's two weeks out is actually ridiculous, but with our life, I guess it's not surprising."

"I might not even go, Lyds."

"Don't be like that," Lydia sighed on the other line. "What's holding you back?"

"Kind of lame to go to a dance without a date," you mumbled, shrinking back into your chair. Maybe if you curled up in a ball and became a turtle, no one would ever ask things of you again. 

"All of your friends will be there, and most girls will probably ditch their dates anyway," Lydia chimed. "And besides, who cares? I don't have a date either, and I'm still going."

"I thought you were going with Stiles."

"In a completely work-related situation," Lydia coughed, even as you rolled your eyes. "He knows that."

"I'm sure he'll figure it out by the tenth corsage he buys you," you snickered.

"Just come tomorrow; Kira is joining. We'll get dresses, lattes, and have a day where werewolves don't intrude." You bit the inside of your cheek, staring at your laptop screen as the words melted into mush in your brain. You could at least hang out, even if you didn't buy anything. 

"I will come," you amended, almost hearing Lydia's excitement from the phone. "I won't promise that I'll buy anything."

"Grab you at 11 a.m., be ready," Lydia chimed, hanging up the phone. You sighed and put your head in your arms, wondering what you got yourself into. 

It was a reminder that waking up by 10 a.m. was a struggle for you. You barely dragged yourself out the door as Lydia spammed your phone, pleading for your coffee as you slid into the car. Kira laughed at you as you curled up in a ball and muttered about sweet death taking you soon. Lydia drove up to the coffee place, an ivy-strewn brick building called Cafe Allegro, and you bolted out of the car and through the doors. The smell of roasting coffee beans and the whir of the espresso machines welcomed you like a blanket on a cold night, and you wondered if you could ask that when you die, it could be in a pile of coffee beans. You ordered your latte, not having to wait long to get your order as you stood off the side, inhaling the fresh scent. Having been absorbed in your calm, you didn't notice the boy standing next to you. 

"You are really into your coffee," Isaac remarked, scaring you out of your stupor. You made a pathetic yelp, grimacing as a chuckle escaped his lips. 

"It's too early."

"It's almost noon."

"Too early," you sighed, sipping the heavenly goodness in your hand. "Why are you here?" 

"Scott and Stiles dragged me to the suit rental place and told me they didn't want me left alone to wallow or something like that," Isaac laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a heather gray henley today that you were enjoying and trying your hardest not to notice. "If it's so early, why are you here?"

"Similar reason. Lydia and Kira dragged me dress shopping," you glanced up at him before looking around the shop and realizing that your comrades were hiding on the opposite side. Annoyingly leaving you with the person who gives you immense jitters. 

"Do you think you'll get a dress?" Isaac inquired. 

"Not sure why, don't have a good reason to," you mumbled, staring at your cup. Gosh, your heart was beating fast, and your stomach hurt. Maybe you should've gotten something calming like herbal tea. 

"You should get one," Isaac coughed, looking visibly uncomfortable. For a second, you worried that you were annoying him. "You would look…pretty."

"Thanks," your cheeks burned. "Then, you should get a suit." You swallowed, feeling like your head was in a whirlpool. Isaac's eyes looked at you with something akin to interest, but you passed it off as your caffeine-filled hallucinations. 

"We should go to the dance together," Isaac said quickly, tensing slightly as he awaited your reaction. Your eyes widened, and you had to remember what solid ground felt like as his words sank in. 

"I would like that very much," you breathed. Isaac's demeanor softened, relief flooding his eyes. He bit his lip to stifle his grin, which was the worst mistake he could've made as now all you were focusing on was his lips. "Gotta go," you announced, bolting from him before he could say anything else or before you jumped him at a coffee shop. You made it to Lydia and Kira and dragged them out of the door, not bothering to look back for fear of embarrassment. Lydia had mild complaints, but mostly, Kira gave you a knowing look. 

"Is there a reason for this rush?" Kira asked, eyebrows lifted in question. 

"I need a dress," you said. Lydia and Kira shared a grin and you knew there was a specific reason they left you with Isaac in the cafe. You wanted to strangle them and kiss them for it. 

The ride to the dress shop was short, but the anxiety building like a knot in your stomach persisted long after. Isaac asked you to the dance. He asked you for some unknown reason. You guys were friends and occasionally worked together. Still, you struggled to have a conversation before that didn't end with you saying something weird and making it awkward. You used to chalk it up to just not having common interests. Still, if you admitted the truth to yourself, you would know it's because you had a giant raging crush on the werewolf. Words were not in your vocabulary around him. 

Entering the dress shop (a cute place called Laura Jane's Boutique), you were suddenly reminded why you didn't really want to go in the first place. You love pretty things, but the over-glitzy dresses and jumpsuits are not your style. At least Kira looked as out of place as you. Lydia led the charge, though, immediately saying "no" to many dresses on the rack and holding up some options for you and Kira. You did love it, though, Lydia caring enough to try and find the perfect dress for her friends. It made you feel wanted. 

You wandered into one of the back sections, skipping the colors you would never wear. What was Isaac's favorite color? Maybe that's the color of dress you should go with. Your inner voice told you it shouldn't matter what color you wear. Not just because you value your independence but because Isaac would love it either way. 

You pushed some dresses aside on one of the racks, stopping at a shorter-length dress. It had bell sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It was simple but not understated, and you loved it. 

You went home that night feeling like you were on a cloud. Except, like all good things, your crippling insecurities had to rear its ugly head and make you start questioning everything. Laying in your bed, the dress still in its tissue-wrapped bag, you stared at the ceiling, debating what had happened. What if Isaac only asked you to the dance because it was convenient? Or worse, he was asked to by someone like Scott or Lydia? He probably didn't like you at all. Why would he? You were human. Unremarkable. 

Vibrations could be felt in your head as your phone rang, and you begrudgingly grabbed at it without checking the caller ID. "Hello?" you grumbled.

"Hey," the tenor voice said from over the phone. "Can I come over?" 

"Isaac?" you asked, sitting up in your bed. "Is everything okay?" Oh my gosh, was he hurt? Or rescinding his previous offer of the dance.

"I just want to see you," he breathed. "Is this a bad time?"

"Never," you answered quickly. "You can come over."

Ten minutes later, of anxious pacing in your room, you got a text from Isaac saying he had arrived. You ran downstairs to open the door, slightly winded from the rush. Isaac's face was illuminated by your porch lights, and all you could think about was how pretty he was. 

"Hi," you spoke, looking up at him.

"Hi," Isaac smiled, "can I come in?" Nodding, you opened the door further so the golden-haired werewolf could enter. You gestured for him to follow, leading him to your room for privacy. You started to regret that decision when you realized that you had invited someone you were interested in into your bedroom. This was the plot of a bad romance novel. 

"What brings you to my humble abode?" you inquire, twirling to face him.

"I came to check on you," Isaac glanced around your bedroom, smiling faintly at your posters on the wall. You watched his eyes catch on your corkboard, where a photo of the two of you at Derek's loft is in prime display. It was after saving the day, and Stiles had bought multiple tubs of ice cream to celebrate. Derek demanded why this "celebration" had to be at his place. However, Stiles had never once listened to Derek's complaints and hosted it anyway. You loved that picture and that memory. 

"Check on me? I'm not in danger again, am I?" you smile, sitting on your bed and subconsciously grabbing one of your stuffed animals. 

"Kira was over to see Scott and mentioned you might be 'spiraling into oblivion,'" Isaac turned to you, quoting Kira's words. Sometimes, you wondered if that girl was telepathic with how well she knew you. 

"Maybe a little," you mumbled, fidgeting with your fluffy friend. Isaac hesitantly sat next to you on the bed, his weight causing you to sink closer to him. 

"Can I ask why, or should I just infer?" he chimed, grabbing another stuffed friend you have and twirling it around. It was a blue chicken from a video game you play, with a cute pink gizzard and round body. "I like this one."

"Do tell," you chuckled, watching him squish the chicken plush. 

"It's squishy," he muttered, patting it on the head before setting it carefully beside him. Your heart wanted to burst at the small interaction. 

"I was worried about the dance," you responded, answering his previous question. He gave you a sidelong glance, asking you to elaborate. "I don't know why you asked me."

"I like you."

"Like me, or like me?" you whispered, barely able to get your voice heard. Unfortunately, Isaac is sitting next to you and has a werewolf hearing, so he didn't miss a thing. He hesitantly grabbed the stuffed animal from your fidgeting hands, putting it aside before carefully holding your hand in his own. 

"I think you're amazing," he smiled, looking at you with eyes the color of a lakeshore. "So yes, I like you."

"I like you too," you breathed, a smile gripping your lips. "When did you get good at socializing?"

Isaac laughed, still holding your hand as he absentmindedly traced shapes on your knuckles. "Had lots of time to practice conversations while trapped in a freezer."

"You need therapy."

"Probably," he laughed, grinning at you before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you. "Can I kiss you?" 

You barely managed a nod, your heart thumping loudly in your chest as Isaac kissed your lips. It was soft and somewhat hesitant, like he didn't want you to run away afterward. You boldly deepened the kiss, as it felt like water filled your ears and a marching band played in your heart. The hand he wasn't holding you used to capture his face, his free hand lightly gripping the outside of your thigh. It wasn't fireworks but an ocean at high tide with waves crashing against the shore. And you didn't mind it one bit; you hated fireworks anyway. When Isaac did pull away, his breath was warm against your lips, and you had to remember to let out a shaky breath before you hyperventilate. Isaac kissed your cheek, pulling back to look at you with pure adoration on his face. 

Kissing him again was pure bliss, and you couldn't help but look at him with awe. You weren't sure how you were granted something this good when you've spent your whole life dreaming of something worth half of this. Still, you wouldn't exchange it for anything. It meant you got to spend Winter Ball with the most handsome boy on the dance floor. 

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The first thing she does is stride across the stage. She is moving quickly, for a reason. At events like these, there is typically someone with a clipboard and a headset holding you backstage behind a curtain. They tell you the exact moment when you can walk out. Both candidates will be let loose at the same time. For her to achieve her first objective, she has to walk faster than him, so that she is in his space when, remarkably, for the first time, the two meet.

He seems to avoid her. He has barely made it to his own podium by this point, but she has already crossed her podium and the space between them and now stands behind his podium, on his turf. “Kamala Harris,” she says, in case he needs a refresher. I cannot recall a presidential candidate saying their own name to their adversary like that. It strikes me that that was how she would have introduced herself in courtrooms.

This first move is Aggression Meets Manners. She is trying to own him, with courtesy. She returns to her podium. And the first thing she does now, because she knows she has to, given how it is for women in her situation, is smile. A big, generous, probably rehearsed smile, because you really have to.

There were miles to go from there. But already in that double instant, you had it all. The full range of who she had to be, and who she would be: dominant, alpha, power-conscious, on one hand; joyous, easygoing, a little above it, having a blast, on the other.

Last night Vice President Kamala Harris faced the impossible, contradictory demands women face in politics and in all of public life, and she said, “Yes-and-and-and-and.”

She had to thread the smallest of needles, starting with that mix of aggressive and mannered, then being joyful and tough, gracious and angry, and contemptuous and hopeful, and incredulous and credible, pugnacious and nurturing, pitying and alarmed.

In one sense, there are very few women in the world who will have had the precise experience the vice president did last night. But I doubt there are many women who have not felt themselves forced to thread that needle and win by being all the things.

Last night Kamala Harris was all the things.

What came back to me as I watched was Gloria’s monologue in the “Barbie” movie, delivered for the ages by America Ferrera.

It is literally impossible to be a woman… You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas… It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

These incentives and pressures are not fair, but they exist. Last night, as much as any political leader in memory, Harris thrived at being all the things at once — all the things a single person should not have to be.

When she did aggression, she did aggression. “Donald Trump was fired by 81 million people,” she said. (And you have to give him credit: he knows TV, and he knows a good line, and that one he gave a grudging nod of admiration. I see what you did there.) She said to him that dictators “would eat you for lunch.” She told him his crowds were walking out out of exhaustion and boredom, the form of impotence he cares about the most. She told him that she had to clean up his mess.

Ordinarily, this kind of emasculation should only be done in a licensed clinical setting.

What I’ve learned reporting on politics is that voters may say they care about this issue or that issue most, but what they’re often looking for is a gut check on whether the candidate in question has the fight in them to thwart the obstacles that face their family. They know how immovable the obstacles are, because they just spent their day failing to defeat them. Can a candidate do for them what they can’t do for themselves?

The strength, force, alphaness Harris showed last night will satisfy many on that score. But look at what she mixed it with.

Her facial expressions worked harder than Charlie Chaplin’s back when there was no sound. The mics may have been muted, but they forgot to press the button to silence her face. Eyebrows up, eyebrows down. Hand on chin, hand down. Eyes enlarged, eyes narrowed. Skepticism, sadness, eagerness to butt in, exasperation, wonder — she might cycle through all of this during one of Donald Trump’s answers. Can one’s side-eye be nominated for an Emmy? Though Harris often looked right at him when she spoke, when Harris spoke, he looked straight ahead, with his resting fascism face.

Sometimes she listened, letting him wild. Sometimes she seemed like a predator on the savannah, ready to pounce as he meandered. Sometimes, many times, she planted bait for him, with the exterminator’s faith that the pest will eventually come for his nibble. He gobbled instead. Every one of her traps he found, true to biology, and gobbled. The thing about bait is you don’t know it’s bait. Otherwise, you wouldn’t fill up on it. Bait ruins dinner, because by dinner you’re dead.

What a small needle! In addition to all this, Harris sought to show, not tell but show, that the multiracial democracy America is becoming will be fun. One shouldn’t have to convince people that freedom is better than tyranny and the thriving of all better than the thriving of some, but here we are. You have to show people that what they are being manipulated to fear isn’t scary. And Harris carried herself, amid everything else she needed to be doing, with a joy that embodies the kind of future she promises.

The most important new thing I saw her do was prebunking. Pre-, not de-. Debunking is waiting for someone to lie and then hitting back with the truth. It doesn’t work in politics as much you would hope it would in an age saturated by lies. But prebunking works better. Prebunking is explaining to people how they are being (or, better yet, will be) manipulated, what the motive is, how the con works, how the lie will be crafted and how it will function, and, for extra credit, who benefits from it and how. In the age of Trump, too many of his opponents have been all debunk, no prebunk.

But in last night’s debate, again and again, Harris rose to the meta level and explained Trump’s ways in advance so as to inoculate against their infectiousness. “I’m going to tell you all, in this debate tonight, you’re going to hear from the same old, tired playbook, a bunch of lies, grievances and name-calling,” she said in the first minutes. In another moment, she prebunked any professions Trump might make to be admired by foreign autocrats for his strength: “It is absolutely well known that these dictators and autocrats are rooting for you to be president again because they’re so clear, they can manipulate you with flattery and favors.”

Trump is a challenge for anyone, because he is a weird mix of super dangerous and a joke. With the “Barbie” monologue in mind, think of how much harder this challenge grows for a woman running against him. Play up his danger, and you risk being seen as shrill, or weak, or scared, or hysterical. Belittle him, and you risk coming off as a bitch, a ballbreaker, a nag, a witch. It was remarkable, then, to see Harris’s comfort last night in treating Trump as both of these things at once, a danger and a clown.

She loves her a Venn diagram, and in the debate she seemed to find the lens-shaped intersection of what supremely dangerous wannabe autocrats and semi-retired, narcissistic, imploding clowns have in common: They are not thinking about you.

It became her message: He is not thinking about you. He is not capable of doing so. You may believe that is because he wants to be a dictator, and dictators, by definition, don’t worry much about what people need or want or say. You may believe it’s because he is a decent conservative like yourself with some pretty good ideas but just runs his mouth too much. No matter. She is trying to assemble an Ocasio-Cortez-to-Cheney coalition of people who believe that, whatever he may be thinking about, it’s not you.

At the end, she tried to speak to the breadth of a big country that feels today like it’s made of factions and rumps and tribes and slices and segments but that still is a country, a country full of wonder and promise, still, and she promised to be president even of the people who do not wish her well.

“As a prosecutor,” Harris said, “I never asked a victim or a witness, ‘Are you a Republican or a Democrat?’ The only thing I ever asked them: ‘Are you OK?’ And that’s the kind of president we need right now.”

It was a simple line, but strangely healing after these years. Years in which we have not been OK, because everything we have is at risk and all we could have is, too.

“Are you OK?” A little better this morning.

[subskz]

what kind of feminine panties would each member wear, and mtl likely to wear them?

i feel like felix would love frilly, floral, lacy, cutesy ones hehe. like especially pastel pink ones with small polka-dots and the little bow at the top and lacy trim.

jisung would definitely wear a g-string. or lacy crotchless ones, but i mainly see him as a g-string type of guy. he likes the aspect of it barely covering anything, and how it would be pretty easy for you to rip them off of him since it’s only a thin piece of string. he probably wore one of those candy g-string panties (https://images.app.goo.gl/DTc849PLjwbjk8pU9) once for shits and giggles, but actually gets pretty turned on when you start eating the candies to slowly reveal his cock

what a delicious question ♡_♡ for mtl i think it’d depend on a few things but here’s my tentative ranking!

felix -> jisung -> binnie -> jeongin -> hyunjin -> chan -> lino -> seungmin

felix in smth frilly and cute just feels so right, esp w a pretty silk bow just like you said! maybe long pretty ribbons on the edges or one right in the center over his bulge <3 i think he’d love a lace trim bc of the delicate, angelic quality it has, but he’d also want it to have a cute twist for an element of playfulness! maybe even sanrio-themed underwear or those panties that have a cute skirt attached to the waistband

jisung in a g-string 😭 i agree he’d love anything that gives you easy access and the panties being so tiny would make for a great visual of his dick peeking out or leaking through the material~ the edible candy one you mentioned would definitely turn him on an embarrassing amount lmao by the time ur done eating it he’d be seconds away from cumming untouched. i also love the idea of him in a garter belt for that tiny waist

binnie goes back and forth between being insanely shy and awkward abt it, to feeling so good abt himself that he’s harder than ever. you can see how giddy he gets when you fawn over him it makes him feel like the prettiest boy in the world, he’d definitely not-so-subtly show himself off just so you’ll keep praising him. i think he’d like either black lacey panties that have a dark, sexy look or the most ridiculously cute, girliest pink pair that you can imagine w a bunny/heart pattern, there’s no in between 😭

given how innie seems open to experimenting w more feminine styles like skirts/dresses i think he’d be very into it despite how embarrassed he might get at first bc he feels like a lil bit of a perv. but he cares a lot abt aesthetics so once he feels comfortable you’re in for the giggliest baby boy ever. i think he’d like smth kinda cute and trendy, in a bright color like pink or purple with some frills! he’d love having to look in the mirror while wearing them while you compliment him

god hyune would look gorgeous in literally anything but he is a little shy which makes him hold back a bit. he has such a natural sensuality to him but funnily enough he’s kinda awkward abt trying to be sexy. i think he’d lean for smth a bit less revealing since he’s not one to like showing off his body too much. lace seems a lot like his style, it’s seductive but also pretty and elegant at the same time, it makes him feel sexy n refined and satisfies his need for artistry in everything <3

i fully believe channie secretly loves to feel feminine and pretty, the only problem is he’s already so easy to fluster on a normal basis so wearing cute underwear would probably make the poor boy short circuit. unstoppable force (channie’s babygirlism) vs immovable object (channie’s shyness) he might like smth simple to start, maybe silk/satin panties bc he he can’t get enough of how nice the material feels <3 he’d go crazy if you snapped the waistband against his skin to tease him and he’d probably say smth like “is it *giggle* is it supposed to be so tight here?” (subtle way of drawing attention to his ass)

lino…do not be fooled by his placement on this list, when he’s in the right mood he’d very much enjoy wearing feminine underwear, esp once he learns how crazy it drives you. i think he’d like the kind w a garter belt attached to stockings/socks, a whole set to accentuate his gorgeous thighs (with cat ear cuffs of course!!!) he’d always prefer to wear thigh highs with his panties or smth sheer that covers a lot of skin bc he’s also kinda conservative abt showing off his body, he doesn’t like to feel too exposed

i’m kinda cheating w this one bc it’s not exactly feminine panties but ever since pink brought up the idea of seungminnie prefering lace boxers over traditional lingerie i have never been the same i cant get it out of my head 😭 i think it’s the perfect balance of pretty and delicate, but still boyish and not as revealing for our modest puppy seungmo ♡ he’s very shy and i think his embarrassment might overpower the thrill of looking pretty for you, so he might not be as into it as some of the other boys

[merakiui]

Just the mental image of Jade being so flustered at being called a "good boy" has got me kicking my feet and giggling. Him being so caught off guard and so down bad that being called that does him in???

I can literally feel darling's victory through the screen. Not letting him live it down and being all cocky the next day. Maybe even getting all brave out of nowhere and turning it up a notch with the flirting just for laughs. Only to have it turned around on her.

Hehehe >:) it’s the most successful shift you’ve ever worked with him. Jade seemed like such an immovable wall when none of your other flirts were working, but that’s clearly not the case anymore. To think one “good boy” was all it took to redden his cheeks and get his heart racing. Floyd also enjoys being called a good boy!!! He’s notorious for being one who does the flustering rather than experience the feeling, so you’ll definitely catch him by surprise if you casually call him a good boy in passing. He’ll need to take a quick minute to process it. :)

But I digress! I love the idea of a very flustered Jade. <3 casually and playfully flirting with one another during your shifts because it’s funny and it also passes the time. Aaaaa getting bolder with him after learning one of his weaknesses and seeing just how far you can push Jade to get him to that flustered point again. And maybe he’s ready for your retaliation after he returned the favor by calling you a good girl. Jade who’s already so bold and shameless with his flirting, so no matter what he does it’s always bound to shock you.

Meanwhile, Azul just wants his two employees to finally get a room because this tension is much too thick for his liking. T_T any more and the customers might get a show of you and Jade obnoxiously and outwardly flirting. ;;;;