#how DOES she find the double entendre is right

[johnnyspells]

[ghouljams]

The only foil Gaz has in his little scheme of fucking his pretty clients? Rich business man Price and his pretty wife. Prices’ wife? The most oblivious bimbo he’d ever met. He wants to nail her *so* bad but, she doesn’t pick up on his ‘double meanings’ or anything! She just paid his estimate outright, (full price! The jacked up price!!! wtf?)

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at manual labor!!! I’d probably knock down the building, lol!” And prances off. She dresses like a tease, tiny skirts, tight shirts, heels, nice hair, pretty makeup.

She’s got daddy Price paying for her and Price finds deep, endless amusement in Gaz going crazy trying to get her to understand what type of ‘manual labor’ he’s talking about. Every time Gaz tries to flat out tell her he wants to f- Price walks by, blue balling Gaz because he can’t proposition his clients wife right in front of him!!! Gaz gets blue balled *again.*

And Price keeps hiring him too! He has the money, so why not? Gaz really amuses him, it turns him on to have someone chasing after his pretty wife *so* bad, and imagine how great it will be when Price finally lets Gaz have her?

Maybe they can have Gaz over for just sex without the fake excuse of ‘building’ or ‘remodeling’

(Bonus: if Price overhears Gaz’s double entendres, he comes in bends over the marble counter like ‘oooooh, this is how I get the discount, I can do that’ because he thinks Blue collar Gaz is hot too, why does his wife get to be the only one nailed over their new counter? And his wife is like ‘oh- oooooh! OOOOOOH!’ Sparkles in her eyes ‘now’ she get’s it!!! Well why didn’t he just *say* so!!! And drops to her knees. Yeah, They all take the new marble counter for a spin.)

The problem... the problem...

The problem is I want Gaz to fuck that old man over the marble counter now. Gaz plays for both teams, if he can't get the bimbo wife, he'll take the hot older husband. Price wants to bend over the counter, Gaz'll press his hand firm between Price's shoulders and his hips firm against his ass. A little surprising for Price, he was joking(sort of) because that's the fun of it. His wife isn't getting it but he is, and it should be a good haha laugh it off moment of "I know what you've been doing." But Gaz presses his weight down against Price and tells him he'll do just as well.

"Can probably take it better than the bird, isn't that right sir?" He murmurs, his cock already starting to stiffen against Price.

The ideal end to this scenario is Gaz fucking Price over that shiny new counter, Price's eyes rolling back as he grunts out moans and Gaz bites his shoulder, pretty wife sat on her knees behind Gaz licking his balls and occasionally dipping back to eat his ass. Both of them really should be thanking him for doing so much work on their house, and for teasing him so long. He wants Price white knuckling the counter, shooting his load all over his wife's tits as she tongues Gaz's ass. He'll fill Price and then move on to the bird.

"When's the last time someone took care of you properly," Gaz asks Price, leaning back to spread Price's cheeks apart, watching his cock getting swallowed greedily with each thrust. Price mumbles out some answer, well before he was married, and sorely missed. Gaz hums with a smile, "Might have to start staying late then, make sure you're satisfied with my services."

Don't think Gaz isn't eager to get the wife over the counter too. Stripping the condom off his thick cock when he's done with Price and lifting the giggly wife off her knees to fuck her raw. Normally he's safer about this sort of thing, never know where a housewife has been, but he doubts she's smart enough to be sleeping around. So he bounces her on his cock until she's shaking and clinging to him, stifling moans by biting his shoulder. He'll leave her dripping come so Price can eat it out of her.

"You know," Gaz tells them, gathering his things, "You really could do with a couple French doors out to the garden."

"When can you start?" Price asks.

"How's tomorrow work?" Gaz grins.

[pumpkinbxtch]

hello, a request please, from apollo x readerposeidon, how does apollo react if hermes tries to flirt with his girlfriend reader (hermes just wants to bother his older brother)

• this is a message for THAT nereid!

— apollo x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Hi baby. here's your apollo crew being jealous there's nothing more like him than that.

✷

Apollo started biting his nails as soon as he heard your laughter echoing in his dining room, which he found stupid because it was HIS dining room and you were laughing with another guy right in his face. Well, it was not just another guy, it was his brother, which made it a million times worse.

His visits used to be enjoyable, now not so much.

— So, ¿what do you say? — Hermes asked, winking at you, and Apollo wondered about the sudden need to make his life miserable by looking you in that way.

Your lips painted another smile as you playfully shook your head, glancing sideways at your boyfriend, who was struggling not to throw the vase at his brother's face. Honestly, it amused you. “This is for all the times you let that Nereid flirt with you in front of me,” you thought, it was your perfect revenge, and with his brother willing to play along, they were hitting the nail on the head.

— Hmm. What do you say, darling? We can stay in that house for the summer. It's close to the water, and I think it would help me train while waiting for the swimming tryouts.

Apollo forced a smile and nodded silently, if he spoke, he'd surely yell. Hermes played with the crystal glass and leaned slightly towards you.

— Even if my brother can't be with you all the time, you can go on your own — he said, looking at his brother, pretending to be kind, and Apollo felt his blood boil. — I'll keep an eye on her for you, brother.

Apollo scoffed — I don't want you keeping any eye on my girlfriend, thanks.

The double entendre floated between you, and you pressed your lips together, trying not to smile.

Hermes ran his hand through his black curls while making loops with his hand, trying to find words to elaborate. That was exasperating, Apollo thought he was just trying to look dashing. For his misfortune, his brother kept talking.

— I think it'll be fine, she needs it for her training, after all, right? — He turned to you with the blue eyes that every son of Zeus seemed to possess. — Although, they should fear you from now on, doll.

Apollo choked at that word and drew both of your attention.

— Is everything alright, Apollo? — Hermes smiled maliciously, and the sun god remembered the stupid rule that whoever gets angry first loses.

— Nothing — Apollo replied, snapping his fingers to start the music. maybe breaking that stupid tension.

When “The Girl Is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney started, you were close to crack up. You couldn’t believe him.

— I love this song, little bro — Hermes hummed while drumming his fingers on the glass table, passing over the message on purpose.

“'Little bro'? I'm the older one,” Apollo thought, annoyed. He couldn't wait to kick that idiot out of his mansion.

The part with the ex-beatle began, and the messenger of the gods leaned closer and starting to sing to you.

— I love you more than he… — Hermes winked at you.

— Okay, enough — Apollo exclaimed, standing up and covering his brother's mouth with his hand. He kept singing even as his voice died in your boyfriend's palms.

 Apollo growled and shot you a furious look before disappearing with him in a golden dust.

As you were left alone in the dining room, you burst into laughter and took a sip of water, impressed by your brother-in-law's performance.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you masked your smile with a serious expression.

 Apollo dusted off his hands and sat back down, his eyes fixed in the center of the table. You cleared your throat and casually propped one leg up on the chair, playing with your hair as you listened to him rant.

— And tell me, my love —your voice echoed through the palace vaults, — how does it feel? — In the midst of those emotions that had him on the edge of a psychotic episode, that question caught him off guard. You raised your eyebrows sanctimoniously and smiled smugly.

Oh.

— You! — He pointed at you accusingly, and you ran off giggling.

As he tried to catch up with you, he heard the echoes of the palace bringing the reason you played along with his brother's stupid game: “Tell that damn Nereid to screw off, you're mine!” And the brake on his heels, now fearing you'd walk back to him.

Okay, you won. Definitely, Apollo wouldn't even talk to a rock if it kept you from flirting with his brother again.

✷⁠

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 3

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, angst

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, cunnilingus, missionary, references to rape, dub-con, dom!beomgyu, sub!reader

You’ve decided you were overthinking everything. Your dreams mean nothing. Your dream about Taehyun meant nothing. It was just your stressed brain being weird. Though it was awkward being around him for a couple of days after that dream and feeling that inexplicable feeling of guilt and—you’d never say it outloud–love springs up your throat every time your eyes meet.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to think about it too much today when there is something much more distracting to deal with. 

"What's with your eye?” You ask Taehyun, noting the eyepatch he was wearing. “Is it a stye?" 

He shakes his head, grinning as he pulls the eyepatch aside to reveal a black eye. You gasp. "Oh my god! Did you get in a fight?"

"You could say that.” He shrugs, grin still in full effect. “I'm a wrestler."

“Oh. That is… not shocking.” You frown, making him laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You seem to be the type.” You say as you give him a once over. Despite his sweet and innocent looks, he had a kind of roughness about him that gave him away. “Yesterday when you were helping me with the door of the back room, you nearly ripped it off its hinges.” 

“You said it was stuck so I expected more resistance. I just didn’t account for your chicken arms.” He teases, making you gasp, affronted. “How dare you? Check out these guns.” 

You pull up the sleeves of your shirt, flexing said chicken arms in various wrestler poses. “I bet I can even take you, Mr. fighter.” 

“I bet you can.” Something about the way he says that, low and a little hoarse brings a blush to your cheeks, a certain double entendre you’re not sure he meant hanging in the air, but you decide to just barrel past it. You can’t let your stupid brain keep overthinking the smallest things. You refuse to let in that weird sense of intimacy and familiarity that your dreams have conjured up seep into your reality and your relationship with him. You’re purely coworkers, maybe tentative friends, nothing more.  

“Damn right.” You declare, satisfied. “Now let me take a look at that eye. My mother is a nurse, you know?”

“Is she?” He sits down obediently, letting you examine his eye closely. You start by making sure the eye itself isn’t hurt and that his vision is clear, getting him to follow your finger to test his eye movements and making him read a few things at a distance, before you move on to the possible brain injury. “You didn’t pass out, did you?”

“No.”

“Did you vomit?”

“Nope.” 

“Had any seizures?”

“No.” 

“Do you remember everything?” 

“I wish I didn’t.” He snorted. “Damn bastard floored me with that punch.” 

You wince as you imagine that kind of impact that would bring him down and cause such a black eye. Instinctively, you reach forward to brush your thumb gently under his bruised eye. “Aw, does it hurt?” 

“It feels better now.” He smiles, looking at you strangely, and your heart skips a beat. Okay, surely you’re not just imagining this, are you? Your brain can’t be that much of an asshole. 

But before you can attempt to make sense of the way he’s acting, an angry voice cuts through the delicate moment savagely.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your boyfriend’s voice is like ice water down your back, making you jump away from Taehyun immediately. You turn to him in shock.“Beomgyu! What are you doing here?” 

“Checking in on you, but I’ve clearly arrived at the wrong time.” He spits, eyeing Taehyun angrily, and you quickly realize the source of the misunderstanding, waving your hands in the air in denial, trying to dispel whatever erroneous conclusions you’re sure his mind came up with. Damn it, it’s bad enough dealing with Beomgyu’s jealousy without you unintentionally feeding it. “It’s nothing. I was just checking his black eye. He got injured at a match.” 

“He’ll get another one if he doesn’t step away from you.” Beomgyu threatens and you hear Taehyun snort from next to you. “Yeah, right. As if you could ever land a punch on me.” 

Goddammit, Taehyun. You’re trying to de-escalate things here!

“Wanna see?” Beomgyu growls, rising up to the challenge immediately and charging forward. But you quickly step between him and Taehyun, not wanting a fight to break out in the middle of your workplace. 

"Beomgyu calm down. You’re making a scene." You whisper, noticing how the customers' eyes have turned to you. But of course, Beomgyu doesn’t care, his anger and jealousy getting the best of him. "Am I? I'm sorry, should I wait for you to fuck him on the counter first?"

Humiliation sears your skin at his accusation, said so loudly and easily in front of your coworkers and everyone in the shop. You’re so embarrassed you could cry, but that would only humiliate you further. So you quickly grab his arm and pull him out the back and into the alleyway behind the cafe where no one can see you. 

You can’t believe he’s doing this again. He promised he will get himself under control. You’ve tried to reassure him that you only love him. You’ve tried again and again to put boundaries when he acts out, but then he completely crashes through them with no regard for you. Why should he when you always forgive him and take him back after his abhorrent behavior? It’s your fault. You’ve allowed him to go this far and now he’s out of control. You need to put an end to this.  

"I'm done. This is over. I'll come around later to get my stuff." You tell him, and his whole demeanor changes–all wrath is gone from his face and he turns into a wounded animal in the blink of an eye, shaking his head in denial as his eyes flood with tears. "No. No. You can't leave me. Not again."

"What the fuck are you talking about?” You shout harshly, and he flinches. God, why does that still make you feel bad despite everything he’s done to you? “I never left you. Maybe that's the problem."

“No, please, I'm sorry!” He wails, "I'm sorry I blew up. I'm sorry I made a scene. I just can’t stand to see him with you. I know he wants to take you from me."

His unwarranted conviction drives you mad. Does he really think every single guy is out to steal you from him? "You are insane."

 Another guy would take the hint and dial it down on the crazy, but not Beomgyu. As if to prove that insanity to you, he falls to his knees at your feet, grabbing onto your legs tightly. "Don't leave me. I can't live without you."

"Go home, Beomgyu.” You grit out, trying to hold yourself back from falling for his pathetic display because truthfully you’re just as pathetic as him. It’s easy to be stern and immovable when he’s angry and lashing out, but it’s another thing entirely when he acts so vulnerable. When he’s angry, he’s an asshole who is hurting you, but when he’s sad, he’s your loving boyfriend who just needs reassurance and care. 

"I can't. Not without you.” He insists, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “I need space, Beomgyu.” 

“You know I can’t–” 

“I need space to calm down and forget what you've done so I won't leave you." You snap, finally making him take his hands off you, realizing that though it kills him, backing off for once might be the thing that saves your relationship this time. 

Still he needs that extra reassurance. “Do you promise you won’t leave?” 

“Beomgyu–”

“Please!” He hiccups, hanging onto the thread of hope. “Please promise me that you won’t just leave.” 

“I won’t.” You grits out. You can’t. You wish it was ever that fucking easy to leave him, but he’s got you hooked on him good. 

"Okay." He gets up shakily. "Can I have a kiss?"

Does he not know how to quit? Has he no sense of awareness of the situation? Can’t he tell how much he has pushed you? "No."

You try to be firm in your decision, try to make him take you seriously once and for all, but when you see him sniffle and his lips tremble, it’s hard to stay strong. 

"Please. Just in case." He shakes under your harsh gaze that softens every time his breath hitches as he tries to hold himself together. 

God, this is exactly why he behaves this way, because it always works. 

You grab him by the back of the head, kissing his lips roughly, more teeth than anything, biting down on his lower lip in punishment, hard enough to taste blood, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. He clutches onto you desperately, opening his mouth up for you to thrust your tongue inside, making him taste his own blood. 

It’s a job to get him off you, but eventually you manage to disentangle yourself from him. “Go home now.” 

“Will you come home after work?” He prods, and you run your hand through your hair in frustration. “Is this giving me space?” 

“I just–” 

“I’ll be home by bedtime. I’ll probably walk around or hang out with friends to decompress.” You explain to him, even though you know you really shouldn’t. He has no right to know where you’re going, not after the shit he just pulled but you know he won’t leave you if you don’t reassure him. 

“Which friends? Are you going to–” 

“I have to get back to work, Beomgyu.” You cut him off sharply, unwilling to give him more. Truthfully, you don’t even know what you’ll do. You don’t know if you even wanna hang out with your friends. You can’t handle them telling you ‘I told you so’ for the hundredth time and pushing you to break up with Beomgyu. “I know you want me to get fired so I only have time for you but I actually wanna keep this job.”

He winces at your accusation but you don’t wait for him to defend himself, turning your back on him and walking into the coffee shop. 

Getting back into work is mortifying as you try to dodge the gazes of others that are at best curious and at worst judgmental and accusatory. Most of all, you try to avoid Taehyun, not knowing what to say to him after he witnessed your boyfriend’s outburst against him. 

But it’s hard to hide in such a small shop, and Taehyun is on you just a few minutes after stepping back inside. To your surprise however, he isn’t angry or reproachful. In fact, he doesn’t mention it directly at all.

“Hey you wanna blow off some steam after work?” He asks you, completely casual and you breathe a sigh of relief, nodding. You really could use some stress relief. You know you can’t go home to Beomgyu like this. You’re so mad you’re afraid you’ll do or say something you regret. 

What worries you even more is that you think whatever you would do to him, Beomgyu would take it, and you don’t want to be that person. You don’t want to perpetuate this sickness. 

________________________________

Taehyun takes you boxing. It’s definitely a bit unusual but when he said it would help you blow off some steam, he wasn’t kidding. 

“Hit it harder. Take out all your rage onto it.” Taehyun instructs you, then adds cheekily, “Imagine it’s your boyfriend’s face if you need to.” 

You scoff. If Beomgyu was here, he’d definitely lose it with how close Taehyun is to you, his hands fluttering between your waist and shoulder to correct your position, and wrapping around your arms to teach you how to correctly swing. 

“Like that?” You ask, punching the bag the way he taught you to. You’re not strong enough to have it swinging like he does, but he still praises you for doing it right. 

“Yup, good job. Soon enough you’ll be able to deck Beomgyu in the face.” He jokes and you send him a glare. 

“I don’t want to punch Beomgyu.” You say, delivering another hard swing at the punching bag, putting your full weight into it. 

“Are you sure about that?” He raises his eyebrows, watching you pummel the bag. 

“I’m just frustrated.” You grit, raining punches with both fists until you feel your arms getting sore. “Why does he have to act like such an asshole? He knows I love him. He knows he’s the only one for me. Why is he so insecure? He’s such a fucking idiot. He makes me so goddamn mad!”

You step away from the bag, panting for breath. Clumsily, you push away the sweaty hair out of your face with the gloves still on as you try to calm down your overheated body. “You’re right. This did help.” 

You give the bag one last punch before you take off the boxing gloves and slump onto a chair, exhaustion settling into your bones. You hear Taehyun snicker as he takes your place and starts his exercise. 

You watch him workout. You admit, he looks good doing it. Dressed in a white sleeveless top, his muscles bulge and tense every time his arms shoot forward to smack the bag. The look of concentration on his face and the way his jaw clenches makes him look all the hotter. 

His punches are fast and accurate, and you cringe a bit at the idea of someone being at the receiving end of them, but you still find it attractive. You never got the appeal of the strong, macho man some girls swoon over, always preferring the soft cute types yourself, but watching Taehyun go to town on that punching bag, sweat starting to drip down his glistening skin… you finally get it. 

Apparently, your ogling wasn’t as subtle as you thought, especially when Taehyun pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, revealing his hard abs to your curious eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Taehyun smirks, dropping the shirt back down and you blush, looking away. “Bet he doesn’t look like this.” 

“Shut up.” You grumble, standing up. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?” 

You realize how dry your throat has become and take it as an advantage to get out of this messy situation you’ve gotten yourself in. But Taehyun shakes his head. “You stay put. I’ll go get the drinks.” 

You graciously accept the offer, telling him what you’d like to have, and he dips out of the practice room to get you something out of the vending machine and you take the opportunity to cool off. 

God, what is wrong with you? Do you like Taehyun? Why the fuck are you thirsting like that over him? Ever since you’ve gotten with Beomgyu, you can honestly say you’ve never wanted to be with another man. Beomgyu just fulfilled all your needs, emotionally and physically. Being with him felt like finally finding your other half, your soul’s resting place. It’s cliche but it truly felt like you were made for each other. How can anyone else compare? 

But now that his jealousy and controlling behavior has gotten out of control, you find yourself pulling away from him, the illusion of the perfect one for you slowly shattering by his own hand. Is that why you’re having these weird feelings towards Taehyun? Like Beomgyu, you feel like you’re connected to Taehyun somehow. Despite the relatively short duration you’ve known him, it feels like you’ve known each other for years. You yearn for him in a way you have no control over and you don’t like it. You’re just proving Beomgyu right with his unhinged paranoia. 

Seriously, fuck Beomgyu for putting these thoughts into your head. You were completely fine with Taehyun before he made a big deal out of nothing. 

When Taehyun comes back, he hands you a can of soda and you gladly pop it open, gulping down the cool liquid with relief. 

“So when did you start boxing?” You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way his Adam's apple bops as he swallows. 

“Since I was a kid basically.” He shrugs, explaining further at your questioning look. “I didn’t have the best home life and boxing helped me blow off some steam and got me away from it for a bit.”

“Ah.” You hum awkwardly, twirling the can in your hands. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s alright. I’ve left it behind now, trying to make a life of my own. That is why I was so glad that you told me about the job at the cafe. It’s a chill job that allows me to make some money to support myself and still be able to pursue my studies.” 

“Right. Music. Didn’t peg you for that guy. I mean, boxing sure but didn’t think you’re the artistic type.” You grin, feeling a bit giddy at his faux offended look. 

“Hey, I have a sensitive side too.” He defends, “And I’ve been told I have the voice of an angel.” 

“Someone's humble.” You laugh, and he shrugs. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.” 

“Let’s hear it then, angel.” 

He gives you a look at that, and you open your mouth to apologize, not sure if you’d crossed a line, but then he coughs, clearing his throat a bit and starts to sing. 

I know that sweet love song

The words we said through our oath

If I turn around, eventually

They'll just end up being an unfamiliar someone

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic

I want to run away, far away

My heart is already chasing after you

And burning with small embers

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic

I don't believe anymore in being romantic

As my entire heart burns

I'm afraid that only black ashes will remain

He really does have the voice of an angel, so sweet and soothing. You listen quietly to the whole song, a small smile on your face despite the song’s pessimistic message. But something about his voice tugs at a distant memory in your brain, the feeling like a word on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t quite remember. It’s a disquieting feeling that clashes with the sweet honey of his voice. 

You don’t let it show though. You know he wouldn’t understand. And once he’s done singing, you clap enthusiastically. 

“Thank you. Thank you.” He graciously accepts the applause, a pleased grin on his face. 

“Wonderful. Showstopping. Angelic.” You pour out exaggeratedly and he laughs. “I told you.” 

“You did.” You admit, no point teasing him about his cockiness when you like his voice so much. “I never heard that song before. Did you write it yourself?” 

“Yup.” 

“Now I get how you’re into music if your songs are this dejected.” But you can tease him about the subject matter. You’re impressed with his talent but if you had to come up with a song that Taehyun would compose, it would’ve sounded exactly like this. 

“I’m just being a realist.” He tells you and you cock your head to the side, intrigued. “You don’t believe in romance?”

“No. I’ve seen how it goes too many times and it always ends in heartbreak and tears at best.” 

You frown, finding it sad that his experiences have made him arrive at this bleak conclusion. “It’s not always like that. Some people have happy relationships.” 

“Yeah, do you know of anyone who has an actually happy relationship?”He challenges and you wrack your brain trying to think of one. Your parents? Definitely not. Your sisters? Nope. Your friends? Hah. Still, you refuse to admit it. You’re a hopeless romantic and you refuse to accept his cynical worldview. If love only ever ends in heartbreak then what even is the point of living? “Just because the people I know aren’t the poster children for happy relationships doesn’t mean there are none.” 

“Are you even happy with Beomgyu?” He prods, catching you off guard. 

You were. Things were perfect between you. He was the best boyfriend you could have ever wished for at the beginning. He was so sweet and loving and gentle, being with him felt like coming home, but slowly things started to unravel until it got to the point you’re at right now and you’re too scared to admit that things may never go back to the way they were before. If Beomgyu isn’t the one for you then who is? 

“Shut up and sing more.” You grumble, not wanting to think about it anymore.

Taehyun grins, not pushing anymore, satisfied with his win, and obliges you. He sings a couple more songs for you, each of his own making, and you eagerly listen to him, closing your eyes and getting lost in the warmth of his voice, asking for more every time he finishes. 

He doesn’t complain, performing a mini-concert for you, helping soothe your nerves as you try to focus on his soothing voice and forget about the troubles you’ve been going through with Beomgyu and your confusing feelings for Taehyung.

But all the tension ricochets back into your body when he gets to the fourth song, the small smile you were wearing plummets into a frown and you sit up from your slumped position suddenly. You don’t know what it is about this song. It appears to be a simple lullaby, but just hearing it makes your heart hammer in your chest. 

Taehyun notices quickly and stops singing. “What’s wrong?” 

“Did you make up that song too?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No, it’s a song my mum used to sing me when I was a kid. Why?”

“I don’t know, something about it seems familiar.” You trail off, eyebrows furrowing as you try to recall where you heard it before. 

“I doubt it. My mum made it up.” He says, confused by your sudden change in mood. 

You’re confused too. You don’t understand. You just have this intense feeling of deja vu right now, something you’ve been feeling increasingly more frequently lately. Maybe you heard it in a dream? 

You shake your head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and needing comfort, needing Beomgyu… “Never mind. I should probably get going.” 

You’re mad at him but he’s still the biggest source of comfort for you. He has a way to calm you down even if he’s the one who caused your anxiety. It all works out when it’s just the two of you. It’s only when other people get involved that everything falls apart…

“Already?” Taehyun asks, disappointed, and you look at the clock that says 10:46 pm and sigh. “Yeah. Beomgyu is probably freaking out by now. Even more than he already was.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t go back to him then. You need some proper time away to think things through. You can’t let him keep getting away with this behavior.” He advises, his expression betraying his clear distaste for Beomgyu. Great, another friend who despises your boyfriend. You can’t deal with this right now. 

“He’s just insecure.” You find yourself defending him once again, feeling weary and covering your face with your hands. “I don't know why. it's not like every guy that ever meets me will fall in love with me. You don't even like me.” 

"I do like you." Taehyun says simply and you snap your head up and gape at him. "What?"

He shrugs as if this doesn’t fuck everything up even more. "I like you and I think you deserve better than your shitty boyfriend."

You shake your head, standing up, feeling angry at yourself. Of course, he likes you. Beomgyu smelled it from a mile away. Why else would he be so nice to you? Why else would he care so much to hang out with you and calm you down when he’s probably tired from his shift? This was obviously a mistake and you’re a stupid girl who is playing into it while your boyfriend is probably breaking down at home. "Beomgyu is a good boyfriend. He loves me." 

Taehyun stands up too, getting a bit forceful now. “You’re deluding yourself. What he’s doing isn’t healthy, and he’ll only continue to get worse because you let him.” 

What does he know? How do you know he’s not just trying to break you up with your boyfriend so he could get with you? Beomgyu probably could tell that Taehyun liked you from the start and that’s why he was so averse to you being around him. Obviously that doesn’t excuse how out of pocket he acted today but he still wasn’t completely wrong. 

“I should go.” You mutter, quickly gathering your things. 

“Let me take you home then.” He offers and you snort. Yeah right, like that wouldn’t make Beomgyu’s brain melt. 

“I'll just take an uber.” 

Taehyun attempts to argue but you shut him down. 

_____________________________

Beomgyu is waiting near the door when you get back, curled up onto himself as he rocks back and forth, looking like a broken mess, and your heart can’t help but clench painfully at the miserable sight of him despite everything he’s done. You can’t bear to see him hurt, especially knowing that Taehyun liked you after all and he wasn’t being totally paranoid. 

"You're back!" He stops rocking and untangles his arms from his body. You see the tension in his body, like he wants to spring forward and take you in his arms but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. "I thought I lost you." 

"I'm right here." You sigh, opening your arms up, giving him the signal he needed to stand up and engulf you in his arms. 

“I’m sorry, baby–” He begins his long plea. You’ve heard it many times by now–he’s sorry he acted irrationally, he’s sorry he gets jealous and out of control, he promises he’ll do better– but you’re honestly not in the mood for it right now. You just want to pretend none of this happened tonight, least of all because you feel some kind of guilt over hanging out alone with Taehyun and letting him touch you when he secretly had feelings for you just like Beomgyu was afraid of. 

“Shut up, Beomgyu.” You grab his face and kiss him. 

He lets you do it. Beomgyu would never reject a kiss from you, but once your bruising kiss leaves his lips and travels to his jaw, he voices his concern. “Are you sure, princess? Don’t you wanna t-talk about it?” 

Princess? He’s bringing out the big guns. There is no use arguing with Beomgyu right now. You already know what he’s going to say so you bite down on his neck, making his breath hitch as your hands trail up his waist towards his nipples, rubbing them with your thumbs over the thin material of his shirt and making him gasp. “Just shut up and be good for once, Beomgyu. Need you to fuck me so hard I can’t even think about how mad I am at you right now.” 

You feel him gulp under your lips, and the next thing you know he is carrying you by your ass and dropping you onto the couch. He quickly takes off every shred of fabric on your body, following suit, before he gets on the ground in front of you and buries his face in your pussy. 

Beomgyu is a very talented lover, especially with his tongue. He knows exactly what to do to get you going, and right now is no different. He eats you out as if he can convince you to stay just by using his mouth, and you have to admit, it is very persuasive. 

“Fuck, Gyu. Good boy.” You praise, encouraging him to do more, your hand in his hair guiding his mouth to where you want him. He eagerly lets you control him, pushing his tongue into your pussy while his lips pucker and suck around your hole. 

You feel yourself clench around his tongue, more of your arousal leaking around it until it covers his chin and parts of his cheeks. You pull his head up, whining as his tongue slips out of your pussy, but he quickly relieves the feeling of emptiness by pushing his fingers inside you, curling them up to hit that sensitive spot inside you that has you keening. 

He wasn’t going to be slow tonight, and you don’t want that. You cry as his mouth finds a new target in your clit, alternating between sucking it in his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, all while his fingers plunge in and out of you until you’re creaming on his face. 

“That’s it! Fuck, that’s it, baby.” You throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut as your body shudders at the intense orgasm. Fuck, you needed this. 

Beomgyu doesn’t care about how hard you’ve got his hair fisted up in your hand. He keeps hungrily licking your pussy, not letting your arousal completely fade even as your orgasm passes. 

“Baby, wait, give me a second–” You gasp, feeling sensitive, and when Beomgyu pulls away you think he’ll give you break, but instead he pushes you down until you’re laying on your back on the couch and gets on top of you, lining his cock with your entrance 

“Wait–Beomgyu!” You cry as he shoves his cock inside of you, beginning to fuck you right away, not giving you a moment to breathe or calm down. 

“There you go, princess. Is this what you wanted?” He pants, hips slamming against yours as he fucks you roughly. 

It was what you wanted but you’re not sure now. You need a moment. “Baby, slow down…” You whine, your eyes squeezed tightly which Beomgyu doesn’t like. 

“Slow down? But I thought you wanted me to fuck you until you can’t think about how mad you are at me.” He taunts, slamming his hips against yours, his cock going so deep inside you you feel like you’re going to choke. Normally, you’d fucking love it but it’s suddenly too much for you. 

You shake your head, holding tightly onto his upper arms. “Please, baby, just slow down!”

But Beomgyu only fucks you harder. “Open your eyes, princess. Look at me while I’m fucking you.” 

“Beomgyu–” You beg but he seems too far gone, not realizing that you’re being serious. You feel a harsh smack against your thigh and he growls down at you. “Open your eyes.”  

You do, hardly seeing him with the tears in your eyes, but what you see scares you. “Gyu–”

“Am I fucking you hard enough? Or does my princess need me to fuck her dumb until she sees only me?” 

No, no. This is exactly what you asked for, but somehow it doesn’t feel good. The wildness of Beomgyu’s eyes, the roughness of his hands, don’t assure you of his need and devotion to you as always. Instead, they speak of a need to own, a desire to subjugate you or tear you apart. It fucking terrifies you. 

And suddenly, intrusive images come to mind. Images of bound limbs and golden suits, tears and anger. Images of Beomgyu forcing himself on you as you lie helpless and beg him to stop. 

“Beomgyu!” You cry out, shocked at what your mind is conjuring up. It’s not real but it feels real. You feel violated and scared and you just want it to stop. "Stop. Stop!"

“No. Don’t be a brat. You can take it.” Beomgyu chastises, still lost in his own head, the pleasure clouding his mind and not letting him see your pathetic state. 

“No. I can’t. Please. ” You sniffle, shaking your head weakly. 

“Don’t cry. You’ve made me wait so long for this pussy.” Prince Beomgyu drives his dick into you harder, making sure you’re fully deflowered.  "Take it. You were made for me. You can take it."

The images of prince Beomgyu looming over you just like he is right now, being so relentless and cruel as he takes what he wants from you are all you can see in front of you. It’s not a dream anymore. You’re wide awake, so why can you see them as if they were your own memories? God are you going crazy?

“Beomgyu?” You croak, trying to reach him through the images and his crazed headspace.

“I swear if you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t bother being gentle.”

You quickly clamp your mouth shut at the ghostly threat, stopping any noise from getting out, stopping even your breathing, and that finally alerts Beomgyu to what is going on. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He stops moving and reaches out to touch you but you flinch. 

“Don’t touch me.” You cry, the damn breaking down and allowing tears to stream down your face. 

“What happened? Oh god. I didn’t know you were serious.” Beomgyu’s face goes pale and he looks like he’s going to be sick. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Get off me. Get off me.” You wail, pushing him away. He pulls out of you but doesn’t get off, wrapping you in his arms and trying to get you to calm down. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear. You’re okay. You’re okay. I love you.” He coos, trying to sound reassuring but you can hear the panic and fear in his voice as he cradles you and rocks you back at forth, not paying any mind to you clawing at his back as you try to break free, letting you sob and cry until you tire yourself out and slowly, slowly down. 

“I’m right here, princess. You’re safe with me. I’ll never leave.” 

His words of reassurance fail to have the effect he desires. Instead of soothing you, you find them suffocating and inescapable. You feel like you’ve been here many times before, each time adding to the heaviness of that oppressive weight pushing down on you until you don’t have the strength to fight it anymore. You just fall limp in his arms, and he finally pulls back to look at you. 

He brushes your hair out of your face and swipes away the drying tears. “I’m sorry I hurt you, baby. I didn’t mean to.” 

"I’m sorry. I just…” Prince Beomgyu struggles to find the words for a second. “I had to do what I had to do to keep you.” 

You shiver, looking away from him. 

"What is it? What’s happening? What are you thinking?" He asks worriedly, wanting to get into your brain to figure out what caused your sudden breakdown, needing to know so he can convince you it’s nothing like he always does. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble, monotone. You’re fucking exhausted and traumatized. You feel like you’ve been violated. You just want to go to sleep and not wake up. 

“Baby, please, just talk to me. I can fix it.” 

You glare at him. “Fix it? As if you’ve ever taken my concerns seriously. You’d just tell me it’s all in my head and–” You shut yourself up. You don’t want to talk to him about this. It hurts enough when he dismisses your dreams normally. It would fucking kill you if he made light of what you just experienced, even if it was all in your head.  

Surprisingly, in a move totally unlike him, Beomgyu relents. “I take you seriously. You don’t even know.” He says, head bowed sadly. “It’s you who doesn’t.”

What does that even mean? Is he talking about his jealousy over Taehyun? Yes, you admit he may have been right about that but there are many other things he was wrong about. But you don’t have the energy to get into it right now. 

“Take me to bed.”

“Yes, princess.” He sighs, head bowed as he carries you in his arms and takes you to bed, putting you under the sheets and climbing in next to you. 

“I never want to hurt you.” He murmurs, taking you in his arms and kissing the top of your head. You shiver at his choice of words. 

Never wants to hurt you. Not is never going to hurt you. 

__________________________

A/N: lol I was supposed to do this early release on patreon but here is a surprise. as always i really appreciate any feedback. whenever I am going through hard times I keep reverting back to missing yamqn gyu and wishing for him to comfort him despite how objectively terrible he is :'D

once again

[dramioneasks]

Halloween Fics 2023:

Adoration by flowerfem - E, 31 chapters - Hermione needed time out of Wizarding London and a move to the English countryside in the Fall was just what she wanted. Upon discovering Draco Malfoy was her neighbor, running an apple orchard next door, she realized she had no idea what she wanted. The season was sure to hold rainy days, carved pumpkins, and of course some magic. Buckle up for some fluffy, cozy Dramione goodness. Brief appearances by our favorite Slytherins and Gryffindors. This does get a little angsty in the middle, but rest assured this is HEA at its finest. (pumpkin) Spice throughout but chapters will be marked that have smut. Written for Flufftober Challenge 2023; new post every day of October

Double, Double Slytherin Trouble by kid_n_the_hall, Wanderingfair - M, one-shot - Draco and Hermione's pre-dance snogging is interrupted by two Slytherins who can't wait to show the couple their Halloween costumes.

What Lurks Inside the Corn Maze by erininoctober - M, one-shot - Struggling to stay on top of her classwork, Harry and Ron convince Hermione to take a break and join them for some pre-Halloween festivities.

The Muggle Haunted House by GreenInk_RedLetters - T, one-shot - How the hell Draco Malfoy had ended up in a Muggle Haunted House of all places was a query he'd been pondering over rather seriously for the better part of the last hour. Even more so as he side eyed another bloody animatronic skeleton, willing it with his eyes alone to jump out like the last several death traps had. Pure fluffy humor and Halloween fun as Draco Malfoy is *forced* to attend a Muggle Haunted House with his son. A snapshot in time (a pixar short if you will) of how I imagine the supposed outing if Dramione were endgame.

All Hallow's Eve by skeytchy - M, one-shot - Present-day | Middle-aged Draco and Hermione decide to jump on a Muggle movie reference bandwagon for Halloween, only to run afoul of old fears and insecurities. Featuring: - An ill-fated Barbie costume - Domestic fluff and double entendres - Married people who still like each other??

Lesson number one by thatblondebitvh - E, one-shot - The Halloween party takes an unexpected turn for Hermione. [Draco/Hermione/Theo]

Candy and Love by VicUreno_12 - not rated, one-shot - Draco Malfoy just wanted to attend trick or teat. And when he gets the chance. He meets the love of his love. A muggle girl that he gives his chocolate bar and heart to. Will he ever find her again? Maybe in the walls of Hogwarts.

Sex and Candy - Kinktober ‘23 by undercoverdrxco - E, 17 chapters - For Kinktober, I have put together a kink bingo card that I will be challenging myself with! Expanding my horizons one kink at a time. - A collection of unrelated PWP to celebrate Kinktober the right way with Hermione and Draco -

That One Night That Hermione Granger Dressed Up As Wednesday Addams by allyseisfalling - E, one-shot - Hermione Granger dresses up as a slutty Wednesday Addams at a Muggle-themed Hogwarts Halloween Party. [Draco/Hermione/Theo]

A Truly Maleficent Trick or Treating by Mariana_Monteverde - T, one-shot - 31st October 2006 | Scorpius's first trick or treating or the day Draco learns something new about his wife.

[glasskey]

Nick & June's Mix tape Vol. 1

Today I’m going to be sharing some of my favorite Nick and June tracks that have us all hitting rewind over and over and over and over……..after all, who doesn’t love a good mix tape?

Oranges & Tuna

This is the first time we meet Nick but given June’s familiarity, it’s not the first time she has. In Atwood’s text, Nick sounds like a bit of alright and the POV camera shot when June comes down the stairs IS a touch pervy.

Nick’s working with his sleeves rolled up, sweating and judging by the wanton looks it seems June’s in no particular rush to go shopping. She also seems to know quite a bit about him already, including the fact that he’s single. In her head, June’s already inviting Nick down to the oyster house bar for a drink, a subtle reference to a well-known aphrodisiac. It takes all of 10 seconds for Nick to start flirting with her, by telling June a gag about not being a pescatarian. It’s a fact which June purposefully ignores, in order to return his flirtation, and that’s it, that’s all it takes…..Nick’s fucked.

Throughout the next few episodes we see that Nick can neither believe nor resist June’s audacity. Nick knows he should say something when he sees her legs uncovered but he says nothing and simply stares. The sound of the lid closing on the box in front of him is like a trap snapping shut.

He can’t resist standing waaaaay too close and stroking her hand when he brings her ice, the heat is palpable. Nick now knows he’s in serious trouble and June is left reeling. Throughout season 1 these two are constantly measuring and testing each-others boundaries, but honestly from the second Nick told his tuna fish gag, he may as well have waved a white flag.

You shouldn’t wear anything for me

Sweet mother of Mercy. Apparently the sight of June’s naked body has turned Nick Blaine into the master of the double entendre overnight. Season 1 sees Nick pulling the jokes out left and right, first with the tuna fish gag and now this. Nick can hardly keep a straight face as he delivers it and June barely stifles a chuckle. This casual comment is not only a statement about June never changing her appearance to please him, but also one about how desirable he finds her, naked and unmanicured.

This is also the first time we see these two perform their infamous hand brushing and it’s literally breathtaking for the both of them. It’s a moment steeped in danger, electricity and passion, as you sense them both recalling their previous night together. Glowing lights seem to follow these two around like a spell, and as they intertwine their fingers a luminous orb appears between their hands.

I’d like to say that June ever stood a chance at resisting the foxy driver’s charms but I’d be lying. He’s hot AF, lives less than 200 feet away and flirts with her shamelessly, this was all a done deal long ago. In Atwood’s text, these two can barely keep their hands off each other and Nick is described as absolutely fascinated with her. Not surprisingly then, this scene is closely followed by a knee trembling, face melting kiss that sends June straight from “it can never happen again, sorry Nick” to a dazed mess spelling saucy words during her scrabble game.

Is This It?

Nick thinks that breaking up with June is going to be simple, in fact he seems to think he won’t need to explain himself at all. June is having none of it, this is her one small ray of light in an otherwise dismal existence so Nick had better have a good reason.

He does, he’s already seen one handmaid die and he’s starting to get seriously attached to the new one. Seeing June on the wall just because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself is more than he could bear. This is Nick doing Nick: keep your head down, step aside, stay out of trouble and keep your mouth shut.

June rightfully calls him on his shit, accusing him of being a coward who wants only to be Fred’s whipping boy for the rest of his life. How could he want to live such a small life? It’s a gut punch that leaves Blaine looking suitably ashamed.

Their individual attitudes to “ending up on the wall” speak volumes about who these two are at heart. To June death is everywhere, living in terror isn’t living and the reward is worth the risk. Nick is a survivor, sacrifice for duty and self-preservation is second nature, a small life is better than no life at all. Unfortunately for Nick, his aspirations for a life half lived died the moment he met June Osborne. Before I get into Nick and June volume 2, I’ve got volume 1 of the Lawrence and June mix up next. Back soon.

[behoright]

give me a sign (love countdown series) | a. svechnikov

show me, how you want it to be / tell me baby

summary: part 6! our sleepover before we leave for the roadie….andrei doesn’t have a tv but he does have some dreams…

wordcount: 3k

song: ...baby one more time - the marias

warnings:  18+. minors dni. fluff, cursing, smut. cute n dirty like our boy. also - bad writing, as always.

　　♡　　　ₓ　₊　　☕

“Here’s the guest room, you can sleep here tonight.”

“Andrei, I've been here before.” you said with a chuckle. Andrei felt your eyes staring deeply into him, while he tried to look so unfazed by it all. Ever since he realized what his true feelings were, he had done his best to act as normal as possible. He knew, however, that it just wasn’t the case. Andrei couldn’t remember the last time he had been so head over heels for someone. The touch of your hand gently startled him. 

“Hey… are you okay? You’ve been so on edge lately.”

“What? No, everything is okay. Should we eat?”

The answer didn’t fulfill his friend, and he could tell, but he secretly hoped that this could all just be ignored. He had been thinking about this a lot, maybe too much, and still couldn’t find a way to handle all of this and not look like an idiot. 

Things seemed to chill out while they ate their takeout, the ease of their conversation reminding Andrei how comfortable he really felt around you. He knew he could never get enough time with you. Despite what you thought, he never got tired of hearing about your classes, your internship and foolish girl drama. Just as you never got tired of hearing about hockey, hockey, hockey. And his family, his teammates. Whatever crazy stories he had to bring from his countless nights out. Andrei knew. He saw how you attentively listened to him every single time. He swore that your eyes actually sparkled when you looked up at him. 

“Drei…? Hello?”

“Uh, what?” 

You laughed. 

“You were telling me about the other night?”

Andrei kicked himself for actually getting lost in his thoughts, in your eyes, as he realized how present you were, listening enthusiastically. He was pretty sure he had just stopped mid sentence, staring at her, fork stuck in the air. 

“Yeah, yeah, I lost my train of thought.” he blushed. 

“Your head’s in the cloud lately, Svechy. Maybe we should take you to a doctor, see if there’s anything left in there.” you said, poking at his head before throwing away your takeaway box. 

“Maybe you could give some of your brain to me. All you do is study, nerd.” he stood up and pushed at your temples a bit harder. 

“Oh, is that right?” you teased back. 

“Yeah.” he smirked, hands on his hips.

“Well, I’m sorry my job doesn’t consist of mindlessly lifting weights and chasing a piece of rubber all day.”. She knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Oh, really, are you sure you want to say that?” Andrei started slowly stepping closer to you. 

“Yep. I actually use my head, you know.” you snapped back, head tilted. 

“Oh, you do? I bet you’re good at that.” Andrei whispered, hoping you didn’t hear or realize his double entendre. In spite of his tone, he saw you blush and your eyes narrow. 

“You’re so na-Oh!” Before you could get any rebuttal out, Andrei’s hands grabbed your waist and easily threw your body over his shoulder. 

“You kick and scream all you want. Try to use your brains to get out of this one.” he said, walking towards the couch. 

“Andrei, put me down!” 

“Oh you want down? Okay.” he said, slamming your body on his couch.

Before you could slither away, Andrei pinned your wrists above your head, his big thighs caging you under his body, carelessly flashing you the biggest smile. 

“Drei, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it!” you begged. 

Andrei threw his head back, his nose scrunching up as he laughed. You had to make sure not to stare too hard at his rosy cheeks, the lower belly peeking out from under his ridden up shirt. What you didn’t realize is that Andrei was panting not from carrying you around, but from the nature of the position you were in. All the writhing from your body under his was, unbeknownst to you, causing a stir in his lower abdomen. 

This was bliss. If he couldn’t have you, he could at least have this. 

He grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, still above your head, and started tickling you. 

“Please, please, don’t!”

Nothing brought him more joy than seeing you laugh, inhibited. 

You tried your best to get away from him, as much as you could at least, buckling your hips up to move his large frame off of you.

“Oh, you’re getting feisty, huh?” Andrei said, in between chuckles.

“Please, stop!” you couldn’t contain your laughter. “I didn’t mean it I promise I promise”

“You need to be more specific than that.” Andrei hit back, his fingers working overtime to make you laugh. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it you are very smart and work a really hard job please please!”

“Okay, okay if you say it so nicely I will stop.” he said, with a beaming smile. 

You were staring at each other, trying to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest.

God, you looked good like this, pinned under him, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“You’re lucky you’re so strong, Svech. Maybe I will do training like yours so I can beat you next time.”

“Ha! There’s no way. But you can try.” he teased, getting close to your face. 

Andrei knew deep down that this was a risk. But he tried. He was so elated when you got to spend time like this, he felt overwhelmed. So he leaned down, and he pressed his lips to your forehead. 

You stared deeply into him as he pulled up, eyes darting back and forth across his face.

Before you could say anything, Andrei hastily pulled his body from yours.

“I, uh, I go use the bathroom.” he said, flushed. 

As he was walking away, taking his hat off to fix his hair, Andrei felt a sudden weight on his back. 

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, you had jumped from behind, trying to climb his muscular frame.

“I will beat you, Svechnikov. You just give me some time.” you said, mouth dangerously close to his ears. 

You seemed calmer, but this made Andrei’s heart beat overtime. He was really hoping you couldn’t feel it.

Play it cool.

He slid his fingers around the backs of your thighs, pulling your weight onto his back, and kept walking towards his room.

He didn’t know if he felt your breasts bounce on him when he adjusted your weight, or if he was just too turned on and losing his mind. 

Friends did piggyback rides though, right?

“Okay. I will wait. Maybe you do training with me and we see who’s better.” he chuckled, shaking his head, as he entered his room.

“What do you want to do tonight?” you asked. 

He could feel your lips moving against his ear. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with you.

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe we watch a movie?” he said. Typical Andrei, always wanted to make you feel the most comfortable. You knew that he barely stayed in, considering all of the nights he had dragged you out of your house.

“Yeah that sounds good, but you don’t even have a TV.” you laughed, as he set you down on his mattress.

“I have a computer, dummy.” he rolled his eyes, towering over you. 

Only after throwing a pillow in your face, Andrei headed to the bathroom in his room. 

You looked around, splayed out on his bed. The room was engulfed by the smell of his cologne. His comforter, his pillows, all had that scent that drove you wild. You pressed your thighs together before he came back out, drying his hands. 

Seeing you thrown on his bed like this, with your arms out, head tilted back staring around his room - things Andrei had only ever dreamed about. He wanted to pull you by your thighs onto his lap, make you grind all over his legs, his hard cock, until you begged to be filled by him.

“You good?” she snapped him out of his fantasies. 

“Let’s go watch something.” 

⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆

“Oh, Andrei”

The room was dark, her body only lit by the moonlight coming through the thin curtains. He didn’t know how long they had been in there, but it felt like heaven. Andrei looked down, mesmerized by her pussy stretching up and down his cock. He could see his own chest heave as he stared at her, in all of her glory. The sounds coming out of her mouth made his eyes squeeze shut, trying his best to hold out for her. 

“Touch me, Drei, please”

He tentatively wrapped his fingers around the flesh of her waist. Andrei liked to fuck hard, but the slow pace that she was keeping was making him drunk with pleasure. Everytime she bounced and grinded on his pelvis Andrei gripped her harder, his body subconsciously trying to hitch his dick deeper inside her. He saw the white marks left on her abdomen when she reached her hands around his and gently slid them up to cup her breasts. As soon as his fingers started palming and playing with her nipples, her head sweetly rolled back with the most delightful moans Andrei had ever heard. 

He could feel the tips of her hair graze his thighs, the goosebumps on her skin everytime she lifted herself up, and the weight of her chest rebounding between his calloused fingers when she closed contact between their bodies again. 

It was all too much. The breathy moans, and hums, the sweat beads trickling down his temples.

“Does it feel good baby? Talk to me.”

He tried. He really did. But all that came out was a string of incoherent Russian mumbling. 

“Yeah, Drei?” 

She gave him that look that drove him absolutely wild. Her dark eyes, filled with lust, staring deeply into him. Completely powerless but unwilling to fully submit, Andrei tried to grab your small frame and fuck himself into you. When he noticed the flutter of your lashes that accompanied your moans, he sat up until your chests and foreheads were touching, trading sweat. 

“Grind on me, milaya. Fuck yourself onto me.”

His cocky smile came back when her eyes got stuck at the back of her head, steadily moving her hips against him.

“Andrei.”

“Andrei.”

“Andrei.”

Hearing her hum his name made Andrei’s cock twitch and somehow grow even harder in her. The scraping of her nails on his shoulders, and how tiny her ribcage felt under his palms provoked a deep groan from the depths of his chest. 

“Andrei, please”

Her eyebrows completely furrowed, Andrei shoved his tongue inside her mouth, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure. Messy and desperate, he wanted nothing more than to slam her down and fuck her into the bed; but Andrei was absolutely petrified with pleasure, engulfed in the wet feeling of her cunt sliding back and forth on his length. 

“Oh fuck, baby, yes.” he groaned, voice getting deeper as he edged closer to his climax. 

The praises coming out of him coaxed faster and dirtier movements from her hips and waist, ones that raised the volume of her moans and the grip on his hair. Both of them trembling, and simultaneously etching closer to the peak, their gaze met again.

“Please” she begged.

His wet lips stuck open, Andrei could only mutter 5 words before finishing inside her.

“Tell me you love me”

⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆⁺ ˳ ★ ⋆

Startled, Andrei woke up in a sweat, his shorts filling up with warm cum. He was gripping the pillow right next to him, forearms tensed, and quietly let out a groan, watching a dark spot form in his lap. He sighed, and took time to let his breathing calm down, because as uncomfortable as the sticky feeling was in his pants, the realm in between sleep and awake had overtaken him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a wet dream, but Andrei wasn’t complaining. That was hot, and it felt so real he swore he could feel your touch on his skin still. 

Oh. 

He could. 

Looking next to him, your head was dangerously touching the side of his thigh. His eyes darted around for his phone. 4:45 am. They must have fallen asleep watching the movie, his computer now a dark screen sitting on the coffee table in front of them. 

He ran his hands through his hair. This was so wrong. He knew it wasn’t his fault; he hadn’t gotten laid in a while, and all because of this. Because of you. All because he couldn’t bear to think about anyone else but you. 

He gently stroked your head, still fast asleep, curled up on his big couch. Sighing, he hopped on over to his bathroom to clean up. 

The nerves started bubbling up in his chest again. He had to do something about this quickly - it was obvious that his body was sending clear signals about what he wanted. After a fast shower, he returned to his living room. The darkness outside of his window enveloping his apartment. A time in the night that was always encompassed by the deepest of stillness. 

Looking down at you, the memory of that night ran through his head again. He felt like this was a manifestation of a moment he had been thinking about so much in the past couple of days; a memory that turned a switch for him. This was going to be the second time he took you to bed. He wasn’t sure what it was about it. It all felt so… domestic to him. 

But then, he never did think he wanted domestic. 

He always wanted girls, as quick and as many as possible. 

He wanted the chase, when his confidence could make any woman quiver and follow him back to his apartment. 

Until he was confronted with moments like this. 

Moments of tenderness between you two. Moments of humility, of taking care of each other. Moments that left him warm and fulfilled for weeks on end; no hookup could have ever done that for him. 

He squatted close to you, moving a strand of hair away from your eyes. 

“Should we go to bed? Hmm?” the slight and quiet suggestions caused a stir in you.

“We fell asleep on the couch, Y/N. Let’s go sleep in the bed, what do you think?” he asked, hand on your shoulder.

After receiving a small nod from you, Andrei took a deep breath to pick you up without waking you too much. Before he could even attempt to stand back up, you swiftly and almost automatically wrapped your arms around his neck. His eyes sparkled as soon as he felt your voluntary embrace. 

What…did this mean? 

He was probably reading too much into it. You just wanted to go to bed. Right.

Heart running a whole marathon, Andrei easily picked you up from his couch and headed towards the guest room. The feeling captivated him again: the skin he accidentally touched when your crop top lifted up, the perfume drifting off of your hair, your rosy cheeks resting on his chest. 

Maybe he couldn’t have you, but he could sure dream about it. 

His back moved open the door of the guest room, empty except for your suitcase and the water bottles he had prepared on your nightstand the night before you came. 

He took a peek at your peaceful face one more time before placing your body on top of the comforter. You let go of him as soon as you felt your head hit the pillow - he was right. You didn’t want his touch, you just needed help getting to bed. 

With a sigh and a low head, Andrei started groggily marching off to his own bed. 

“Drei?”

His head snapped around, seeing your eyes struggling to open.

“Yeah?” he asked, his biceps exposed as he awkwardly scratched the nape of his neck. 

“Where are you going?”

“Uh.. to bed.”

“Can you please tuck me in?” you replied, dramatically. 

Scoffing, he moved over to you and assisted you in getting yourself comfy under the blankets. 

“I have a secret, Drei.”

Here we go. He had always known you to be a sleep drunk. Always falling asleep everywhere and mumbling up a storm in your sleep.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Shh. Come here.” you gestured. 

Andrei leaned closer to your face, exhaling sharply. 

“Please stay.”

He didn’t have to hear it twice. Andrei caressed your face and chuckled, moving over to the other side of the bed. When his body found its way under the blankets, he noticed you turned around to face him. He could have stared at your face endlessly, and he thought to enjoy the moment until his eyes started becoming heavy. Drifting off into sleep, he felt your head touch his shoulder while you wrapped your arm around his midsection. Frozen and blushing again, he tenderly put his hand over yours. 

Is this what all best friends do? he thought. He was, however, rapidly ripped out of any daydreams or sleep. 

“Thank you, Andrei. I love you”

He knew he hadn’t dreamed that. Maybe he could really make this happen. The stuff of his dreams, literally. 

Best friends don’t do this. Not like this. 

He just needed a way. A plan. 

“I love you” he answered, happily drifting off.

This was going to be a great trip, and they hadn’t even left yet. 

[giggles-and-freckles]

Hi abi!! Hope you’re doing well! For the prompts - 34 + obitine please? Thanks!

from this prompt list

“It’s itchy.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Obi-Wan says, then bumps Anakin. “And don’t take it off.”

Anakin groans in response. “I hate this.”

“You’ve made your thoughts on the mission quite apparent.”

“We’re Jedi. Why does the Council have us playing dress-up?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t stop scanning the room. “The Council believes the tip will be quite beneficial to our war efforts.”

“The tip,” Anakin repeats, emphatically. “Even though we don’t know what it’s about, we don’t know it’s from…” He groans again. “I bet it’s a Separatist.”

“It could be a deserter. That would be very useful.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t feel completely different from Anakin. They were given next to nothing to work off of, and he’s certain they stick out like a gundark, even in the elaborate masks and costumes provided — or forced upon them, as Anakin has insisted — by the Order.

“There’s one silver lining,” Anakin says.

“What’s that?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t need to see behind the mask to know his former padawan is grinning. “Open bar.”

“Anakin,” he admonishes. “We’re on a mission. You can’t just —”

“Can’t I?” Anakin interrupts. He grabs a flute off the tray of the serving droid passing by, for good measure.

“No, you —”

Anakin moves to escape Obi-Wan’s grip and keep his drink away safe. “Master. Do you know how many missions you’ve openly drank on?”

“Well, I…” he stammers. “That’s beside the —”

“31.”

“What?”

“I kept count,” he says, taking a sip. “Just in case a moment like this should arise.”

“I think this is technically blackmail.”

“It absolutely is,” Anakin replies. “But I’m feeling pretty good about it, right now.” He finishes off his glass. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have a mission to complete.” 

Obi-Wan watches as Anakin heads toward the open bar. He knows he should follow after him and stop him from overindulgence. But then — he should have been a better example over the past several years if he wanted a lesson like this to stick.

Better to leave Anakin to his own devices and bear the brunt of his own mistakes in this instance. 

Obi-Wan mills around, keeping his eyes peeled for what the Council assured him would be evident, while also trying to blend in. This is exactly the sort of soiree Obi-Wan has come to resent over the course of this war. It’s beyond baffling that so many politicians and elites can find the time and resources to so wastefully celebrate their meaningless accomplishments, when so many citizens of the Republic are in danger.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Obi-Wan blinks, recentering himself. He had allowed himself to get lost in thought, missing the approach of this stranger.

“Very much so,” Obi-Wan responds, keeping his voice light and unstrained. He wishes he had a drink of his own to give his hands something to do, other than sweat at his sides.

“Your mask is…interesting.”

Obi-Wan studies the individual before him, wondering if there is meaning behind her words. Could this be the informant? “Thank you. I had it imported from Corellia.”

“What is the meaning of the swan?” the stranger asks, moving closer to him. Before he can reply, her finger is tracing the outline of his mask. “It’s very beautiful.”

He takes a step back. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t have an opportunity to meet with the designer.”

“Corellia, you said?” she asks, silkily. “You must share the contact information of your designer.”

Contact information. Obi-Wan tries to discern whether this is a double entendre of any sort. He was given almost no parametres for the type of information that may be shared by the informant. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have the information with me at the present.” He decides to press his luck. “Yours is quite exquisite as well. May I inquire as to the name of the designer?”

“Ah, there you are!” A hand curls around Obi-Wan’s waist.

He bites the inside of his cheek to resist the impulse to reach for his well-concealed lightsaber.

“Darling,” the new stranger drawls, “I asked you to grab me a drink ages ago.”

The woman who had been interested in his mask glances between Obi-Wan and the new stranger. He can’t see much of her face, but it’s clear she’s confused and irritated at the same time.

She offers a small smile and lilts away.

Obi-Wan tries to step away, but the hand at his waist tightens. He’s about to throw in the towel and reach for his weapon, when the stranger stands up on her toes and leans toward his ear.

“Smile as I’m speaking to you. On the other side of the room, there is a man with a cane. The woman who was just speaking with you is walking toward him. A grey coat. Do you see him?”

Obi-Wan hums his assent. 

“He knows you’re a Jedi.”

“Jedi?” Obi-Wan echoes, his gut twisting over. “I’m not —”

“If you and your friend want to make it out of here in one piece, I recommend you listen to me.”

Obi-Wan tries again to extricate himself from her grip. “I don’t —”

“Master Kenobi,” she hisses, now wrapping both of her arms around his neck. “We do not have time for games. Is he looking at us?”

Obi-Wan glances back at the man. “No.”

“Let’s move. Slowly. Don’t let go of me.”

They make their way across the room, Obi-Wan somewhat blindly following after her. He keeps an eye on the man with the cane, but does his best to move casually.

“How are you with climbing?”

“Climbing?”

“The minute you walk out of those doors,” — she gestures toward the main entrance, — “you’re dead. We’ll have to use the trellis on the balcony.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You don’t get it,” she says, shaking her head. “Everyone here wants to kill you.”

“This is not a Separatist party. This —”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, pulling them to a stop. She smiles sweetly as she speaks to him, adjusting his mask and pushing his hair behind his ear. “They only care about one thing. And your corpse is the most valuable thing in this room right now.”

“I’m not leaving without —”

“Then let’s find him, darling.”

Obi-Wan nods. “I have a communicator connected to my right sleeve.”

She takes the cue easily, sliding her hand up his hand to locate it.

“Press the button,” he says, as he wraps his other arm around her.

He feels her fumble with the comm, then tug his sleeve back into place. 

“He’ll meet us at the stairs. That was our plan.”

“Some plan,” she hums, but leans into them as they begin to walk.

“Subtlety is generally not the priority, if an escape plan is being utilised. It’s a last resort.”

“Not tonight,” she says. “No lightsabers. No grand exit.”

Obi-Wan spots Anakin, leaning against the wall by the stairs. His hands are in his pockets in a display of casualness, but Obi-Wan spots the way his leg bounces. His eyes light up as he sees Obi-Wan approaching him.

“Won’t any exit be grand, if it’s as you say?”

“Everyone here wants you dead, but everyone here doesn’t know who you are.”

“Speaking of identities,” he says, “who exactly are you?”

“Your saviour.” She reaches up to drop a kiss to his cheek. “Grab your boy and let’s go.”

He keeps a steady pace as he finishes the distance toward Anakin.

“Did that woman just kiss you?”

“Yes. We need —”

“Okay, so it’s not a competition. You know that, right? Just because I grab a drink doesn’t mean you have to find someone to hook up with.”

[buggy-samaaa]

more Everly x Buggy notes

Buggy and Everly met 6 years ago. She saw his wanted poster in the newspaper and learned about his devil’s fruit. She thought he was cute >_> also she knew her ability was a great match for his, and that she would be of use on his ship

She was a bit devious and paid off news coos to learn where Buggy’s ship was headed next. When he docked at her island, which is known for its ale (she figured he’d be by eventually for that…), she found his ship and asked for a job, describing how she would be able to support his abilities with her own

She and Buggy sparred so she could show him how her power worked. He was very impressed with how she could support the chop-chop fruit with her hither-thither fruit, and the possibilities excited him, as her power ups his by about 4x the speed and strength of his attacks

Everly liked him right away, but didn’t start flirting with him until they became closer, as she didn’t want to disrespect her captain. Once Buggy insisted she call him by his name rather than his title, she started being more comfortable showing her interest

They became friends fairly quickly, and soon deemed each other each other’s best friend, as they could talk to each other about anything. Everly would know when to back off on flirting to have more serious conversations with her bestie, to his relief, as she could be pretty relentless

Buggy took her flirting to be her personality and that she was just messing with him. He was in complete denial -_- But he liked her back… he’d just never admit it. Everly was too worried about ruining their friendship to ever actually confess to him

Buggy ended up confessing one night after they had been drinking. Literally 6 years after they met. It took Buggy a shit-ton of liquid courage to do so, and Everly was so shook, he thought she was rejecting him. But then she kissed him and confessed back. They became official that same night lol

Buggy flirts back once they’re officially together, but he’s still nowhere near as seasoned as Everly, and she regularly bests him in their flirt-offs. He ends up a flustered mess even if he was the one to start their game

She is self-conscious about her laugh (“dokokoko”), but if someone calls it annoying, she laughs harder just to spite them

She can’t help but flirt with Buggy, she constantly makes double entendres and dirty puns around him, and it makes him so flustered she just can’t stop torturing him she loves it

She can switch from extremely flirtatious and sexual to “who, me?” in an instant, which makes Buggy both turned on and pissed off at her antics

She almost exclusively wears dresses and skirts because her height (7’4”) makes it impossible to find pants — they always end up as capris on her

She makes her own clothes sometimes, so she does own some pairs of pants. She made the dress she usually wears (the patchwork one) — it was one of her first dresses and she’s very proud of it

She is quite strong, and is able to carry Buggy around no problem. She can literally bench press him, too, which she has done to his shock and delight lmao

She weighs a lot more than Buggy as she is 13 inches taller than him, and he likes to lay on top of her in bed like a weighted blanket

She isn’t very good at dancing, as her long limbs make her look on the awkward side, but she loves dancing with Buggy. She especially loves silly dances like the mashed potato

In her 20s (she is 37 now) she did some drag shows. Her drag persona is named Ev and he usually wears messy formal wear, like nice shirts that are half unbuttoned, halfway tucked into slacks

Once she and Buggy played out a fantasy and she dressed in drag and seduced him as Ev 👀 He was very, very into it

Sometimes she wears boxer briefs, other times nice lingerie. Depends on her mood

She will borrow Buggy’s clothes, especially his t-shirts, which are small on her so they become crop tops lol. Buggy loves this

She likes being chivalrous to Buggy, like opening doors for him and kissing his knuckles, which he feels weird about loving so much

She has a habit of calling Buggy “babygirl” and “baby,” which, again, he feels weird about loving so much

She’s the type of woman who calls herself “Momma” sometimes, like she’ll say, “Let Momma take care of you” if Buggy is sad, or sleepy. She doesn’t mean it sexually, though

She loves doting on people and making them relaxed and calm. She has a way with words when comforting people

——

And yeah this is all stuff I’ve learned about her, as I’ve been RPing as her with a custom Buggy on character ai. Ty for reading <3

[negative-speedforce]

For Siv and Onnie (I love seeing the differences between them tbh)

Eros 3 and 4, Ludus 2 and 5, Philautia 3 and 4

Eros

3: How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

Before her death, Siv and Gina were one of THE most affectionate couples. However, after Gina was murdered, Siv becomes much more withdrawn, trying to avoid any show of affection (and really, emotion in general) in public.

For Onnie, it depends on if it benefits her or not. If being openly affectionate with a partner (most of the time it's just fake relationships for allyships because she's the queen of the nepo babies) advances her or Eobard's goals, then yeah, but otherwise, Onnie's actually super awkward with romance and PDA.

4: Do they believe in love at first sight? Have they ever developed a crush or romantic (or erotic) fixation upon a stranger based on their appearance alone?

Siv absolutely does not believe in love at first sight. However, she 100% believes in infatuation at first sight, since that's what her and Hailey had. At that point, Siv was working as a dancer at a strip club just to make enough money to stay alive, and Hailey was bodyguarding a guy who demanded to go to said club to get his rocks off or whatever. Hailey saw Siv up there on the pole, and she was basically immediately entranced by her. Siv, when they saw Hailey, was basically the same. They ran into each other a few nights later at the grocery store and ended up hooking up right after.

Onnie doesn't believe in love at first sight. They're not even sure if they believe in love in general, even after they meet Pippa. She definitely belives in erotic love, since she's hooked up with multiple women since becoming Eobard's second in command- turns out being able to vibrate your hand fast enough to phase through someone's chest has more than one use.

Ludus

2: Is your OC particularly skilled at flirting? Have they had to practice this or does it just happen naturally?

Siv's kinda an idiot when it comes to flirting. The best they can give you is a really corny pick-up line, like "Hi, I'm Siv, but you can call me after work." or something like that.

Onnie definitely has to practice her flirting skills, but they're better off than their E-2002 counterpart, mostly because of the entity they're bound to, since it automatically makes her more dangerous and seductive- which is, unsurprisingly, something a lot of women are into.

5: What seduction techniques are most likely to be effective when it comes to your OC? Are there some things guaranteed to get them going? Or are they immune to such things?

If you're gonna seduce Siv, be straightforward. Since she's kind of a useless lesbian, she's often unsure whether someone's flirting or just being nice in a totally hetero way.

If you want Onnie in bed (but why tho????), your best bet is to come at her with the same angle she would. Be seductive, and flirtatious, and definitely make a very large use of innuendo and double entendres.

Philautia

3: Does your OC judge themselves by the same standards as they apply to others? Or are they sometimes hypocritical in condemning others for faults they also possess? Or perhaps they find it easier to forgive others for things that they cannot abide in themselves?

Siv absolutely DESPISES themself, to the point that she sees herself as an irredeemable monster, and would forgive others far worse than themself.

Onnie sees herself as above human morality, so she often judges others for the things she frequently does, like crime or being an asshole in general.

5: Which of your OC's qualities makes them the most proud? Do they think more people should be like them in this regard? Or do they quite like being rare in possessing it?

Siv's best quality- in her opinion- is her relentlessness. Once they set their mind to something, they're not backing down, no matter how much it tears her and her reality apart to achieve it.

Onnie's power is their best quality- in their opinion, at least. She sees herself as near-godlike, and would prefer to be the only one with that level of power, even if it nearly destroyed her to get it.

[pollylynn]

Title: Be Told WC: 900 

“Why you gotta ruin the dream?”

—Richard Castle, One Man’s Treasure (2 x 10)

It really does sound dirtier than he meant it. He only meant to needle her with a backhanded compliment and wag of the eyebrows, but he really didn’t mean for it to sound that dirty. That’s . . . rather a shock to the system, how the truth slips right out of his mouth. He tells himself she hasn’t noticed—or that she takes the admission as a lie, which is just as good as her not noticing, isn’t it? Either way, his charmingly caddish, pleasantly salacious image is intact, so no harm done. 

He’s not really convinced. He’s about as convinced as she was, judging from the what the hell? look she’d given him before  the next element of the case had mercifully swooped in to save him—possibly to save both of them—from this version of himself, the one who does not intend to double every possible entendre. 

He has the sinking feeling that there’s no saving anyone from this . . . outbreak of sincerity. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try to explain it away. He starts by invoking Coco Chanel. This case has had him hitting the cad button hard as he celebrates every clichéd aspect of Sam Parker/Jake Holland’s scam. Even he can admit that his performative glee at the eleventh hour possibility that the man had been juggling a third relationship before his death had been a bit over the top. So perhaps the unexpected truth was simply the equivalent of removing one accessory before he left the house, as it were. 

But he can put himself down as “not particularly convinced” on that front, too. For one thing, the way he’d gone after Sarah Reed/Laura Branson in the interrogation—the way he’d delighted in letting her know she’d been made and played—had marked him as clearly, enthusiastically, and maybe even a little bit pathetically team Sam/Jake. 

And why, exactly, is that, he wonders? On the surface, their crimes are equivalent. He never loved her, she never loved him, et cetera, et cetera. Theoretically, there’s some relevant aphorism about geese and ganders that should map on to James Bond and Mata Hari or something. 

There’s a desperate moment when he tries to convince himself that he’s reacting to the fact of Sarah/Laura’s surprise six-year-old—that he’s whipsawed from lamely trying to reassure the woman that Sam/Jake might have loved her to wanting to strip her of every illusion regarding her professional bad-assery. He tries to conjure the most Dickensian image he can of the presumably fatherless inconvenience Sarah/Laura had to tuck away somewhere fairly frequently. But he doesn’t know any of that for certain—she might be a perfectly successful coparent and a professional liar. And it’s not as though Sam/Jake wasn’t all but abandoning his two kids so he could go play corporate spy. 

There’s the dismal possibility that he’s not just a cad, he’s a cad with double standards, and that’s not exactly charming. There’s nothing pleasant about it, is there? 

Even this late in the game, he’d like to think it’s something like the anti-Coco principle. Going for their Mata Hari’s throat comes after his brush with sincerity, so perhaps he’s just compensating. Or perhaps it’s even simpler than that. This might be a case of another missed mark, as his mother would say, and today is simply not going to go down in history as one of his better performances. 

But he finds himself right back in Unconvinced, population him, once again. There’s something else going on with him—something this case is bringing uncomfortably to the surface. 

He has a flailing, unclear sense that it has something to do with Alexis being on the fringes of of all this, diligently working, unsurprisingly taking on a compassionate mission along the way. 

He is aware on some level that he is less okay with the sudden overlap between his two worlds than he would like to be. He would like to be purely proud and pleased that his daughter is interested in the work he is doing here. He would like to be able to tell her outright that he’s proud of both her and this work in which he’s found unexpected meaning He would like to be grateful, without complications, that Beckett has been so generous with not just her time, but such warm approval. He’d like to thank her—truthfully, sincerely—for making his daughter light up like that.  

But he’s nervous, truth be told. He’s in unknown territory with this young woman who, he feels certain, was a little girl just yesterday. The rules of engagement on the home front are changing minute-by-minute, and he counts on things being just so at the precinct. He counts on hitting his marks, knowing his lines, and never missing a beat. And now he seems to be losing the thread of who he actually is and who it is he pretends to be, because this is their dynamic—his and Beckett’s: He is the cad, she is the long-suffering straight arrow, cursed to have him tagging along, breaking into applause for his fellow rogues and running a cottage industry in innuendo. 

Truth be told, he’s more than nervous, he’s afraid. He strongly suspects his cover has been  blown. He’s the one who blew it in a moment of unexpected truth: That sounded dirtier than I meant it. 

A/N: Wut? What a weird one, Brain Poneh; but I was struck by Castle's nerves about Alexis and the way he's a bit too hung ho about some of the scam elements, both in terms of admiring Sam/Jake and going after Sarah/Laura

images via homeofthenutty

[sloshed-cinema]

All That Heaven Allows (1955)

Let’s repeat it again for those in the back: adult children have no say in how their parents choose to conduct their lives. While the disastrous cocktail party that Cary attends with her new beau Ron is well-stocked with instantly hateable uppity socialite pricks, few characters are more odious than Cary’s own children. Ned in particular is a slick haired Donald Jr trust fund brat who is more interested in his own future prospects with the family money than his mother’s well-being, all under the guise of knowing her better than she does herself. Kay disguises her snobbery under the guise of scientific detachment, pretending that her studies as a social worker grant her a perspective on all relationships even before she knows the people themselves (the concept of sociology in the 50s is hilarious enough itself in its many and varied shortcomings). Kay at least comes around, but all of the vitriol directed toward Cary underlines just how difficult it can be to change, even if you know it’s a change that you want for yourself. Jane Wyman’s performance as Cary Scott showcases layers of vulnerability and quiet strength. Especially early in her relationship with Ron, Cary is quiet and withdrawn, always glancing nervously about as she considers the social implications of even the smallest of choices. How should a widowed woman of a certain age conduct herself? Polite society may not wall its widows up as Kay describes the ancient Egyptians to have done, but they have their own ways of shuttering them off from their emotional freedom. Ron represents dirt in the eye of that country club set, a free-spirited, renovated-mill-living, Thoreau-reading flannel enthusiast who could seep me off my feet any day. Sure, this falls under the old school physical romance vocabulary where even gestures of “good” love are a little rough, the guy a little too forceful out the gate, but all told it’s a softly powerful accounting of a woman finding her own footing, damn the expectations.

Technicolor really is a marvel. It’s easy to love the vibrancy afforded by this process when watching films by wizards of the three-strip camera like Powell and Pressburger, heightened fantasias where everything pops. But Douglas Sirk here shows that even something as simple as the quaint pleasures of a small New England town can be made lush and larger than life with the right touches. Quintessential images of leaves changing color and trees growing bare shifts to the frigid pleasures of sleigh rides and falling snow. But there’s also pain in this beauty: the sumptuous Christmas scene with its well-decked tree turns out to be the nadir of Cary’s experience here as she learns that no matter how much she sacrifices for and gives to her children, she will always be secondary. At least the tinsel looks great on the silvertip fir.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'Harvey'.

Cary looks uncertain about something.

A meal like dinner or lunch is named.

Kay goes into pedantic academic mode.

A doorbell rings.

BIG DRINK

The Stoningham clock tower appears in a scene.

Television is mentioned.

Rock Hudson says something that's actually just a queer double entendre.

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Season 3, misc. notes

Decided to just toss these up. Since I had started taking them. Thoughts & observations that did not readily lend themselves to my viewguide write-ups -- Appendix material

-- -- --

Ah they’re letting the actors ride around on the running boards of the truckbulances this season, I see. You know they were amped. ~Action Stars~

Standout character design on this show tbh, real feat of just styling and posture. Alda and Rogers are nearly the same height, similar build, and usually wearing one of two of the exact same monochrome outfits, and yet they have completely distinct silhouettes. I bet if you’ve watched this show, all I have to do is say “back of collar flipped up and hands in pockets, surgical cap cocked at an angle” and “hands loose and collar down, surgical cap square like a beanie,” and you know exactly who is who.

I am so supportive of how they kept making Gary Burghoff play the trumpet while, seemingly, forbidding him from taking any lessons or practicing.

I’ve now seen three separate Bela Legosi as Dracula impressions by three different characters in three seasons of M*A*S*H. I think we should not underestimate the cultural reset of Bela Legosi as Dracula.

I thought N.G., for No Good, was a John Hodgmanism, but turns out that dates from at least 1975!

I finally finally finally learned the etymology of B girl: business girl. Variant on working girl. Gonna start using this and everyone’s gonna be like what DECADE are you from.

Klinger is reading RUPERT BROOKE. I squawked.

Hawk saying they’ll miss Trapper’s stupid laugh, and his two good hands…this is gonna make me insane. Don’t stand there with your heart breaking while saying things that could be homoerotic double entendres that you aren’t even winking about GOD that makes it feel REAL, GOD!

The first joke that I laughed at alone, a joke the laugh track was apparently not as pleased by as I was: an all-mood description of a barbecue sauce

I appreciate that Hawkeye & Radar's battle sounds foley on the phone is, 100%, mortar shells from the First World War. What War Sounds Like since 1914 and counting !

Is it time to confess I am supremely into Trapper/Margaret. I am supremely into Trapper/Margaret. It’s confusing, don’t worry about it. But woof!!

Radar hanging out with animals? A development I respect.

Me: overall though, so far this season has not had remotely enough Hawkeye flirting with men Mere minutes into the first episode of Season 3 they let Alda direct: [leaning into Frank] “Kiss me.”

Interesting that Trapper introduces himself as John McIntyre but Hawk as Hawkeye Pierce. I guess if he didn’t it’d be, Benjamin Pierce? Oh my god does anyone ever call him Ben. Wait am I having an immense feeling imagining someone calling him Ben. Okay lock that up in a glass box right now!

“And he’s gonna find us just the way we are, and what we are: draftee doctors, a little gamey and dazed from crawling inside people trying to keep them breathing.” Sometimes this show Fucks me up.

[introducing himself and Trapper] "Captain Sodom and Captain Gomorrah. He’s Gomorrah.” OKAYY. Also #gonchcore

Klinger’s outfits just…keep getting better? Genuinely he shows up lately and my first reaction is, “oh, Yes!”

You can’t have that great moment with Radar and Hawkeye and the lift shoes and then go back though, you just can’t! You’ve already pointed out that it was mean so now it’s just mean. I realize this is just what you get from having a stable of writers working simultaneously on an episodic series, but we better align on this when you regroup for the next season.

Trapper: “You sure she’s not coming back?” Nurse: “She’s with Hawkeye.” Trapper: “Oh, then it should be a while, he’s very thorough.” HELL yeah. Love, mm, everything about this?

Haha I hate Colonel Flagg so much. Which is good, let me be clear. It’s good that he’s both jokesy and super evil. I like perfectly, easily hateable enemies.

Oh interesting: this episode is not actually good

Season Viewguides

These

[procrastinatorproject]

Me: "Today's challenge: only write for 20 minutes, be in bed by 1!" 1353 words, 90 minutes, and an hour past bedtime later: "Goddammit 🙈"

I'm... not 100% sure if I will leave this chapter as is, and if I'll actually use it as part of @jazzfic's prompt-fill collection 🤔 Might be a little too silly and not exactly on topic... But it is also way too funny not to share, so here goes 😋

(I apologize that this is very long for one of these "snippets", but I also already posted the entire Soji chapter, and that's 300 words longer, so...)

Context: This is probably set a good while after season 1. The Motley Crew have been to Earth and have met Picard's Romulan spouses housekeepers (this will become relevant later) Also: Rated T for Truly Bad Double Entendres

---

“Admiral…”

“I’m fine.”

“I really must insist —”

“I appreciate your concern, Emil, but I don’t have time right now.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to make time.”

“Don’t you have other things to do?”

“Nothing that would take precedent.”

The door to the captain’s quarter’s whooshed open and Rios stepped out, seemingly deep in thought.

“Rios!”

At Picard’s call, the captain looked over and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“A little help, please.”

Emil huffed, but Picard ignored him.

Rios took his time, lighting his cigar as he leisurely strolled across the deck to the door where the little stand-off was taking place. When he reached the two combatants, he looked at Picard expectantly. “What can I do for you, Admiral?”

Before Picard could say anything, Emil cut in: “Captain, I’m afraid Admiral Picard may have been exposed to a viral contaminant on his last diplomatic outing.”

“Nonsense.” Picard shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine. Besides, if I had picked up anything, the transporters would have caught it.” Rios took a drag from his cigar. “That’s what we thought when Soji got that synth-flu last month.”

“Precisely!” Emil triumphantly shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at Picard, as if daring him to find a new excuse.

The old man was still holding on to magnanimity, but his patience was visibly starting to fray. “I thought we fixed that?” He gave Rios a look that made it clear when he said ‘we’ he meant ‘you’.

The captain scratched his beard. “Ian has been working on new protocols for the biofilters, but we still don’t know what we’re even looking for. The Coppelians and you are the only organic synths in the Federation, and they don’t exactly have a lot of experience with space bugs over there.”

“This is ridiculous.” Picard ran a hand over his bald head. “I need to place an important call to Earth. I can hardly do that while I’m stuck in sickbay.”

“Our sickbay is equipped with perfectly good holo-displays.” Emil’s quip earned him a withering look.

Rios sighed and turned to his EMH. “How long do these tests take?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Rios looked back at Picard. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Picard crossed his arms. “No, I’m sorry, I do not have time for this today. This call is of the utmost importance.”

“So is your health, Admiral.” Emil sounded almost plaintive now. While he launched into another lecture about the horrors of unknown viral infections, Rios took a pensive drag from his cigar.

When Emil took a brief pause to simulate drawing breath for his next point, the captain said: “Isn’t there some planet-wide emergency drill situation happening on Earth today?”

Emil looked peeved to have been interrupted and he leaned back with another huff.

Picard’s posture suddenly seemed a lot more tense. “I’m not sure I know what—”

“Yeah, Seven mentioned it after she sorted through the subspace messages from Starfleet this morning. Communication networks will be shut down all throughout the day. I don’t think you’ll be able to reach anyone.”

Picard put on a very dignified air. “It’s a rolling drill and does not affect the entire planet at once.”

“Huh.” Rios seemed to be satisfied with that, or at least not intrigued enough to poke into the Admiral’s private affairs any more.

Emil, however, had no such compunction. His eyes shimmered as he accessed the ship’s systems, then he said: “Depending on time zones and subspace distribution hubs, communications are shut off for most of the day and well into the night. Right now, the only places not affected by the blackout would be the Atlantic Deep Water Colonies, the British Isles and parts of… Oh.” A much too knowing smile spread over the EMH’s face.

Picard looked like someone had offered him luke warm Earl Grey. Rios, clearly annoyed at being out of the loop, glared at his EMH and snapped: “What?”

“My private affairs are nobody’s concern but my own,” Picard said haughtily before Emil could even open his mouth.

“Private…” Finally, Rios seemed to be catching on as well. “Oh.” He looked at the still-closed door to the holodeck which the EMH was guarding, then at Picard and raised his eyebrows. “Really? On my holodeck?”

Picard threw up his hands. “I have no idea what you’re implying, and I’m sure I want no part of it. Now, if you two are quite finished violating my privacy, I have a call to make.”

“But Admiral —”

Before Emil could start another round of medical complaints, Rios barked: “Deactivate EMH!”

As he faded away, Emil shook his head and muttered something about manners.

In the relative quiet, Rios took another drag from his cigar. “You know,” he said in a carefully neutral voice, “Raffi recently acquired some very interesting programmes that work well over shared subspace holo-streams. I’m sure she’ll lend you a copy if —”

“Yes, thank you Rios, that’s quite all right.” Picard quickly turned and hit the door release on the holo-panel that had appeared as soon as Emil deactivated.

The door slid open, but instead of the tranquil afternoon sun of the Château Picard, a loud shriek spilled out of the holodeck, followed by the splash of water and a shouted: “Occuppied!”

A large sponge, covered in bubbles was hurled towards the door. As part of the current programme, it would have disintegrated as soon as it crossed the threshold. Fortunately, the changes Ian had made to the holo-emitters on the upper deck last month when they’d had a ship-wide snowball fight were still in effect. The sponge only dithered for a nanosecond before it arched past the doorway and landed squarely in the Admiral’s face.

“Well, I tried.” Emil materialized next to Soji and Enoch, who were half-cowering behind one of the large cargo crates at the back of the deck.

Ian took a step towards him and patted his shoulder in sympathy. “I told the lassies to make sure they activate the privacy settings, but they’re always in such a hurry…”

Soji was working very hard to keep a straight face. “You made a valiant effort.”

The sponge peeled off Picard’s face and landed on the floor with enough force that a cloud of soap bubbles erupted in all directions.

“I see Raffi used that new soap recipe I recommended,” Ian said cheerily. “Very good for bubbles, perfect pH balance, and extra slippery.”

Soji bit down on her hand and ducked fully behind the cargo crate, tears streaming down her face as she tried not to make a sound.

“Though I’m sure Seven was the one who threw the sponge,” Ian continued. “She has truly impeccable aim. Must be that xB strength I hear so much about. That must come in very… handy.”

Enoch ducked down next to Soji, and the two of them grabbed onto each other, struggling to keep quiet.

Picard was standing frozen, eyes closed, clearly too mortified to move. A coronet of soap bubbles was settling on his head, and another one landed on the tip of his nose with grace that clearly bespoke excellent programming. Yes, definitely the new recipe.

Inside the holodeck, the shouting and sloshing continued, while next to the door, Rios was doubled over, laughing so hard he had dropped his cigar.

“Should someone tell the Admiral that he is standing too close for the safety protocols and the door won’t close until he steps back a bit,” Ian asked innocently, “or should we wait until Raffi and Seven find something bigger to throw at him?”

“Not bigger, necessarily,” Emil mused. “Something a little more solid should do the trick. Maybe easier to grip… I’m sure they must have many suitable objects within reach.”

A series of indelicate snorts and strangled coughs erupted from behind the cargo crate.

Emil clicked his tongue. “Well, at least now the Admiral will have plenty of time to submit to a full virological scan. After this experience, he’ll probably have to lie down for a few days.”

Ian could have sworn the EMH had a mischievous grin on his face as he shivered away again.

[likesaly]

1BeatHeart Lyrical Analysis

Note - I'm not the best w analyzing poetry (I hate analyzing poetry w a burning passion) I could be a little off with some of this + Not to mention I have ELA State testing tmmrw so I'm using this as practice.

OP

To start off, it's pretty fair to say that Shinobu/Towa is the one singing. I've also compared the voices too (I'm aware its not the same VA for the game and op) but a small detail I like is the part where Shinobu is voiced ("...why don't you go talk with him?") is almost identical to the voice singing the OP.

Anyways, analysis time

The first 5 lines in the song are likely about what Towa is planning this time around at the attraction hotel. As he says in this, he causes issues while nobody notices he has anything to do with the cases at hand. The line, "such is the smoke clouding up this town..." probably refers to how he quickly manages to get away and succeed in executing most of his plans, it might also be alluding to what he truly looks like.

The next 3 lines is just Towa describing his general relations with people as a whole. I'm not surprised he seems hella condescending as that's pretty much how he is implied to truly act if not manipulating people (i.e; "Well! Fantastic! Wonderful! That's deserving of praise!", "What are you so angry about? ...Oh Well.", "...It's interesting just how many people in this country can't forgive themselves." etc.)

The last line in this also implies more on how he just finds most people to be foolish and it makes sense considering how he mainly needs to talk to people in order to get them going in a dark path for his entertainment. The verse in general builds more personality for players/viewers to see as we explore the nature of the true culprit throughout the game. This whole verse in general seems to be a red herring considering we don't really look back at this but it is still vital to his character.

I know Towa says, "There is no why" to what he's doing but however he does always seem to have quite the eye for doing "justice" for other people in unethical ways. This verse is just pure foreshadowing at the end. Not to mention Towa's face finally being shown for once, which also foreshadows the last conversation with him in game. The last line in this is a double entendre; it refers to Towa's view on what justice truly is + also refers to Towa's mind control / his words having a pleasant feeling due to being a good manipulator.

The next verse is where Misane and Nanase are shown again dancing. The first line is foreshadowing the "...Goodbye." scene at the game's "resolution". The "you" in question most likely refers to Misane. Considering, that Shinobu almost had Misane kill Nanase implies that he wants something from her. (I'm not too sure what he'd want from Misane though but I'll just leave it there since I'm really not sure). This line could also be foreshadowing Shinobu giving Misane advice or dropping hints in general.

The last verse in the opening pretty much alludes again to what Towa's job is; Having people drown in his words to get them into committing murder out of a sense of justice. The last line's probably about how he pretty much can make it as if he has the most control over in conversations. It also plays back into that condescending tone.

All in all, that's all I have to say about the opening now let me get into the ending.

ED

Right off the bat, I'm pretty sure the general consensus/reception of the cover of Greedy Girl being great just out of character for Nanase and Misane. Considering, what we know about 1BeatHeart's plot; safe to say Towa is once again indirectly involved in this one. Towa is all about people enacting on their immoral desires and Greedy Girl is literally about a girl indulging in her desires.

With that out of the way, I'm going to break this down, I'm specifying who's singing to make things easier;

The first verse is sung by Misane. These lines do very much fit her character as she is implied to have grown up too fast having to pretty much forcing herself to stay calm and still needs to learn about healthier ways of thinking, managing the world around her, her emotions, etc. The last line also shows Misane isn't someone who fantasizes much about things like these and is pretty cooled down to reality at hand.

The second verse is sung by Nanase. These lines also stay true to Nanase's character; more so focusing on how he knows things he doesn't know and wants to learn more and more. The third line could alluding to people's thought's and how he can read them as well, making as if their thoughts also belonged to Nanase. The last line is definitely an extended metaphor considering it is about how Nanase can know exactly what someone could want and his selflessness as shown throughout 1bitHeart.

The third verse is sung by Misane. We are now approaching out of character behavior in the second, third and last lines of this verse. Those line allude to exactly how Misane thought/acted when she was being mind controlled in chapter 3; Forgetting her moral compass, almost killing Nanase while getting uneasy as heard in game by the constant beating of her heart.

The fourth verse is sung by both Misane and Nanase. I personally don't think Nanase is being mind controlled but this is Misane's altered view of Nanase while she was being mind controlled. The whole verse is filled with double entendres; The first two lines being how Misane believes Nanase was the one behind the Third Party Murders and beleived how that's how he beleieved things to be, as well as Misane's exploited hatred at the thought of the true culprit to almost get her to murder Nanase. While as the last two lines refer to what they were thinking at the set place and time they both were at (i.e. Misane coming back from talking with Shinobu to talk with Nanase, Nanase's investgation being over, in Nanase's case the you can also definetly be related to the true culprit).

The fifth verse is sung by Nanase. I don't have much to say but more so how Nanase greets Misane after finishing his investigation when she comes back; Cheery and sing-song like before realizing something is off with Misane.

The sixth verse is sung by Misane and Nanase, but sperately instead of together. Nanase's lines is referring to the realization of something happening to Misane when she talks to him again. Misane's lines refers to how in her mind controlled state she seems as if talking to Nanase is pointless.

The last verse is sung by Misane and Nanase, with Misane singing the last line. The lines where the duo sing together is another double entendre; Nanase trying to comfort Misane while in her mind controlled state, Misane finally coming to her senses and wanting to not solve this case on her own. The last line referring to how she doesn't want Nanase to confront Shinobu on his own either.

Honestly the ED ties in really well into the game the more I look at it!

Thats all I have to say for now! Thank you for reading!

[edens-pen]

When scrolling through the tags, as one does, I stumbled across “you want a good girl (who does bad things),” and oh my god? I am eternally grateful I did. I mean, when I say it was an immediate follow, I mean instantaneous

I will give you the abbreviated version of my ramble because I could truly go on for way too long, lol, but here are a few of my personal highlights but again, make no mistake, there are soooo many

First off, using freak like me for the title? Brilliant, amazing, show-stopping. The double entendre of the word “freak” is just so good especially given the context of Eddie’s character plus, it just matches the overall vibes of the song.

And speaking of Eddie’s character, your characterization of him was soooooo good. I feel like sometimes, when writing for Eddie, it’s hard not to get too trope-y? If that makes sense? But you balanced his humor and personality just right. And admittedly, usually, I don’t go for the whole “good girl super innocent and inexperienced” reader vibe, but I’m so glad I gave this a chance. Because despite being inexperienced, the reader isn’t completely clueless or annoying, which again is a difficult balance, so brilliant job.

Then, of course, there’s the fact the reader is black, which there is not nearly enough of on this hellsite. It was such a relief knowing that I wasn’t gonna run into a “she blushed bright red” and be completely thrown out of the experience. It was also just a really fun fic. I loved the flirting and the back and forth and would love to see them interact in person (absolutely no pressure or anything, though, if you weren’t planning on this to be multiple parts, truly this was a dream in and of itself)

Overall, just muah, chefs kiss. Thank you for sharing this gift with us, and from the bottom of my black femme heart, you are amazing! -🧚🏽‍♀️

first ! thank you so much for loving my writing and letting me know that you liked :) i really appreciate it.

black reader is something that is so personal to me because i literally have never blushed red or had a stray strand of hair be tucked behind my ear, unless i had a 40 inch brazilian buss down middle part, and if you try to spank my ass red, we're gonna be waiting a long time.

but i'm so glad you caught the freak/freak because i thought it fit so well and it's so fun!

eddie munson is definitely hard to capture properly, but i'm really happy to hear that you enjoyed how i wrote him.

and i while i do enjoy an innocent/good girl reader, i like when they have some sense. she's inexperienced, but she wasn't raised in a convent. she's a little clunky when it comes to language and actions (i.e. her not entirely sure how she should masturbate), but she knows what sex is, and she's eager to find out what she likes.

i really do want to write more concepts (mostly their firsts that wouldn't fit in a fic like: dry fucking, oral, etc.) and do a deeper dive into their relationship and their first time in another fic.

kind of wanna do something with that purity ring that eddie was eyeing !!

thank you so much for the feedback, i really really appreciate it :)