#i do want to be honest with who i am and not being a shitty denial manchild

[superchat]

Hey fathör. Genuine question. How do you get like okay with the idea of like "it's better if I'm alone"? Cause I really resonated with some of the posts you've made talking about that but like the idea of being alone also kinda makes me scared. Like how do you get over that feeling?

uhmmmmmmm, im not the best person to ask cuz i have Problems and have had zero therapy in my life. im on no medications and have no diagnosis i am confident in saying i have, other than general depression but even then i dont know the extant that i have it, or the ways i feel it or deal with it.

generally the feeling doesnt go away. for me itts an unhealthy battle of "will my selfishness win or my will?" cuz its always conflicting feelings of "i dont think i should be friends with ppl cuz i can be shitty and im not mature enough for them" vs. "i am lonely and want to talk and connect with ppl" and eventually my selfishness wins and i start talking to ppl again even tho i cant justify itt to myself so

ive always been kind of a solitary person, or someone who enjoys their alone time. over the years its gotten more? worse?

humhumhum i noticed a ttrend over time where i like. get in like, a better mood and then act like an ass in some way or another and that will knock down my self esteem and stuff

last year was very eventful in a lot of bad ways and after it ive had enough things settle in my head that its okay to stay away from others for my own good as well as theirs. i kind of live in a constant "i dont think im being a good enough friend" while also feeling very exhausted as if im doing a lot but like really, im not. after many months this is still the case so i think itts just the new standard for me

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi)

You and your friend group are definitely not a part of a typical slasher movie. Two weird guys you met at the corner store somewhere in rural Austria definitely not serial killers. You are definitely going to be saved. You are definitely not going to like being their little trophy.

TW: Yandere, Age gap(Reader in her early 20, murder husband in their late 30), Serial Killers, Mild Gore, Extreme dub-con(Bordering cnc), Blood, Horror, Kidnapping

CHAPTER 1 You meet two weird locals at the corner store in a city in the middle of Austrian woods. Your timid nature is going to be your downfall.

Come to the woods, your assholes-of-a-friend said. Come on, he said, I know that for someone like you, dwelling in some shitty forest for three or more days only to drink mediocre beer and probably have even more mediocre sex while mosquitos are biting at your vagina sounds like your worst nightmare, but! Have you considered it could be fun? 

Yeah, you have considered it. Considered it, thought about it and already decided not to engage with the idea. Spending the holiday in your own country, your own city and by your computer was far better than running around some random Austrian forest – and so you decided to kinda…ditch the idea. 

Considering what happened in the next few days, you really should have been more true to your words. 

Because you agreed to the proposition – because you don’t want to antagonize your friends, because you already feel strained from them, because they are assholes and they continue to be assholes but they are the only ones you have. Maybe you shouldn’t rot in your room, maybe you should agree to spend Spring break with them, getting drunk in the woods and maybe chasing some wild boars across the place. 

— Sorry. 

Some asshole – not the friend one, just an asshole in general, like everyone else in this fucking country that is so stuck up at being in the woods and mountains, that you are literally going to be sick – took the last remaining bottle of coke that was still left on the shelve. You were not having it because it was almost night already, the last remaining store open in the area, and you needed your sugar fix and something to mix alcohol with so you wouldn’t get drunk and stupid immediately. 

You aren’t letting go of the bottle. 

The guy doesn’t let go either. 

— Sorry, I think I got it first. 

You hate how weak your voice is. Never be the active, social one of your friends, you’re stuck being just a dumb girl who has literally everyone walking all over her. You decided to dig your heels into the ground and sent this asshole where he belongs – so, your grip on the bottle intensifies. 

— Haven’t seen you. 

He tugs the bottle back to him – and he has some arm strength, surprisingly for someone in this town. To be quite honest, you are too intimidated by his deep, annoyed voice to even consider looking at him, so you don’t know what the guy looks like. Maybe it’s an MMA champion – celebrity shop at some weird corner stores in abandoned Austrian cities too. 

— I am very sorry, but I really, really need this bottle. 

You don’t, actually. There are multiple bottles of Pepsi right here, and not like you have a very specific preference for the drink that is bad for you. You just got tired of people walking all over you, tired of your friends that constantly getting you into their shenanigans without asking for your opinion and you just want something good happening to you at least once. So, you tug the bottle back to you, and press it against your chest, hoping that whoever this man is will get the memo and get the fuck away from you until you’ll get your pepper spray. Ah, right, you forgot to bring one…well, he doesn’t have to know about that. 

— What do you need this bottle for? 

— Important reasons. Secret reasons.

The man sneered and you finally got a good look at him. And…fuck. 

Tall, broad, maybe more on the leaner side, but you can clearly see his tight muscles that form this perfect, thin type of masculinity that makes you think about greet athletes and that weird webtoon you were occasionally reading because you don’t have anything better to do with your life. You lick your lips, nervously, suddenly aware of the fact that you wear some old hoodie, battered jeans, and exactly zero makeup – you were supposed to get chased by the bears in the forest, not a meet-cute annoying strangers. 

He is Korean if little doodles on his jacket and an accent are saying the truth. You force yourself to get your gaze away from the mask that was covering more than half of his face, black glasses that obstruct the view even more, and messy black hair – the only thing about his appearance that you can actually see. 

Maybe, it’s good that you can’t see his face – you need to get out of here, preferably with a bottle of coke and some other snacks before your friends start questioning why the only person who didn’t want to go is so reluctant about leaving the store. Besides, it’s already almost closing time and you need to gather your thoughts. With a deep sigh, you push the bottle closer to you. 

But this time, he didn’t humor you with softness. He kept it close to himself and suddenly, you are very aware of how much weaker you are than him. You could put up a good fight against a mouse, maybe, a squirrel on a good day – but in this tugging match, you were no, pun intended, match for him. You look closely at his cargo jacket – the patches look official, normal, making you think about the military and what the fuck Korean soldier is doing in the small town somewhere in the rural, touristy-foresty-mountainy part of Austria. 

— Please, sir, it’s getting silly. 

— Yes, it is. Give up now. 

He has that weird calmness in his voice – a low grumble that makes you shiver, the urge to just give up your control and present him your neck like a good pet makes you want to vomit. God, it’s humiliating – you just hope that your friends won’t be here to witness your utter humiliation. 

— I really, really need this bottle. Please? 

You master your best puppy eyes, looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, hoping he has at least a somewhat working and aching heart inside of his lean, muscular chest. The dark glasses of his don’t allow you to see his face clearly, but you can feel how he slowly eyes you from head to toe, slowing down at how much your hands are trembling at the confrontation. 

In a normal situation, you would give up already. But this isn’t a normal situation – you wanted to learn how to be brave, independent, and stand up for yourself in small things, even if your friends still going to swirl you around into making dumb decisions. 

— I was the first to grab it. Why should I give it to you? 

His voice is mesmerizing – you didn’t expect something as deep from a random stranger in the corner shop and here you are, embarrassed, cheeks heated because you want to ditch your friends and look at the random guy you just met. Ah, the tragedy of meeting someone remotely attractive and closer to your age – or at least looking like it – in a mundane place so that the horny thoughts would make room inside your head. 

— Because this would cheer me up really nice, sir. 

You master even puppier eyes – and you lick your lips some more, hoping to elongate the point of how shitty your day was, and how nice it would be, just to have a bottle of coke to cheer you up. Man lets go of a grumpy noise, shaking his head. 

“Fucking tourists” he mutters – and you feel even more embarrassed immediately. If anything, he is probably a tourist too! 

— Sir? So the coke-stealer has manners after all. 

His laugh is dry, and you want to take the bottle and leave – but when you yank it closer, he doesn’t let go. If anything, he grabs it even firmer, thin plastic deforms under his touch, and the tactical gloves he is wearing are only empathizing with the vast difference between you and him. 

— I’m not a coke-stealer. I had dibs on this bottle. 

He stares at you, tilting his head to the side. You look stubborn, like an angry little kitten – and, god fucking dammit, Horangi loved cats. Always wanted to get one or two, adorable furballs that would lay on him and Konig, maybe destroy the wildlife around their house. he loved cats and never had time to take care of them because of their combined jobs – so when he looks at this stubborn little woman – little more in her posture than actual size – he feels all the desire to take a kitten home gets straight into his pants. 

He has to find Konig. Ah, and get the bottle back. 

— Dibs don’t matter if you can’t even hold it. So, the bottle is mine. 

— Sir, if anything, this bottle can’t belong to you yet. You haven’t paid for it! 

— You too. 

— But I will. 

— Just as I am. 

He chuckles, more amused than anything. You look angry, you look pissed, you munch on your lower lip nervously because you don’t want this man to walk all over you, but you also really want his – it belongs to the state, actually – coke. So, you yank it one last time, already preparing to give up and drink Pepsi as the loser woman you are. 

Instead, the bottle goes right into your hand with ease – and you fall on your back, losing the connection between your legs and the ground. You prepare to fall and crack your head on the floor, just like a wet kitten of a person you are. 

Instead, you stumble into…something. You want to say that it’s something soft, maybe a snack aisle or the pillows that are being sold in this store for some reason, but this mysterious “something” under your cheek is firm, tense and warm. 

Just like in the worst romantic comedies you ever saw, you are crushed into a broad male’s chest. Don’t mess it up with another man’s broad chest, those are actually two very different individuals and the concentration of pecks on the square meter already makes you feel uneasy. You bite your lips nervously, wanting nothing more but to disappear – you finally have the bottle in your hands and you can swiftly retreat to the cashier on the other side of the shop, but the man behind you stops you. 

— What’s going on, Tigeren? 

Ah, good. The wall of muscles behind you smells of generic male deodorant and something metallic – and has the voice of a Greek god mixed with the most stereotypical Austrian accent ever. Not like you are an expert on accents or voices or tones because you’re not sure that Greek gods would have such high and grumbling voices, but you stand not corrected, drowning in your bad decisions. 

You feel the firm hold on your shoulder gently put you away slightly, as the man comes to touch the asshole’s hand. Softly, gently, you want someone to touch you like this. You lift your gaze from the pair and…

Did you miss a Halloween party with the tough rule of wearing a mask all the time, even when you’re going out to grab some more snacks? You lower your gaze from the man who also wears a generic black mask and dark glasses, your eyes slowly go down to his pants and…

Did you miss a horse-riding party? 

— Some tourist tried to steal my coke. Nothing, Ko. 

— I’m not a tourist. 

You mumble, under your breath. You don’t want to be here – the area suddenly becomes intoxicating, you feel out of place and you want to run away as fast as possible but the only thing you can do is to just strive on, hoping that you’d at least keep your beverage with you. You take a step to the side, hoping to retreat quietly, like a ninja – but they both notice and turn to your side immediately. 

— This is a dangerous place, lady. 

The tall guy – well, they are both tall, but the second one is fucking enormous, towering over the shelves and making you feel insignificant compared to him – grumbles it gently, almost carefully. You are inclined to listen to him, taking up his words like a damned prophecy. You know this place is dangerous – it’s a forest in the mountains of Austria, of course, it is dangerous, you tried to tell your friends this, but…well, to no avail. Useless as usual. 

— I’m aware, thank you. Can I…excuse me, I will leave now. 

— With my coke. 

Korean guy snorts, the clear amusement in his voice. You don’t like the way he emphasizes the point of you stealing it from him – you both are entitled to it, if anything, he is the weird one to think that he has some special dibs for this. The bottle is already warmed up from your combined touches and you groan from the fact – now you will have to choke on the warm cola while all of your friends have fun with their dumb alcohol cocktails and ice cubes and everything you forgot to bring because you were the last one to get here. Because you were the last one they asked to join – feeling like an afterthought, you lick your lips nervously. 

— Of course. The one you wrestled out of my hold. 

— You let go of it, sir. 

— Didn’t want to make a scene with a little thing like you. 

You feel the tips of your ears burning. Oh, how you wanted to punch both of them – the tall one and the slightly less tall one, both chuckling like a pair of grannies on the porch. Like this fucking place needed more bears. 

— You should be careful around these parts. Weird things going around. 

The mountain has spoken again – weird, but all of his phrases feel more like something straight up from a horror movie. Combined with the eerie dim light of the tiny store and his mask, it sent a shiver down your spine. Gosh, you need to watch fewer horror movies and read less terrible dark romance books. You are jumpy, nervous, anxious, everything that doesn’t combine well with a forest trip. 

You take a step back and the blue eyes follow you. When did he take off his sunglasses? Why do they both need sunglasses at night? 

He looks at you and, fucks sake, you stumble into the aisle again. With a bottle of coke in your hand, which isn’t the best weapon in the world, you stumble to the cashier. 

Cold gaze follows you. Oh, how he follows you. 

You nervously bring the coke bottle to the old man behind the counter, listening to the tired German speech – you recognize the numbers, memorize the price of a single bottle, and yet…you feel the eyes glue to your back as you desperately rummage through your pockets. You swear to god that you had cash on you this exact morning – but you go through your pockets, through your backpack, and try to search for maybe some old cents and cards. 

Nothing. 

God, you feel like a failure – embarrassed that you wasted so much time trying to get this bottle only to put it back on the shelf in defeat and…

— On me. Move your ass, tourist. 

The Korean guy notches your side and you glare at him with a mix of anger and shame – he pays for the bottle, probably grinning from how well he taught this annoying as fuck tourist a lesson, and also for the few snacks he bought, probably for himself and his…friend? Boyfriend? 

You move your ass obediently, going out of the store, and your head hangs low in defeat. Your friends are smoking outside, everyone is visibly annoyed with how long it took you only to go out empty-handed. Jenny, one of your girlfriends, a tall brunette with a perfect fucking body that shouldn’t belong to someone in the real world and not 90-era comedies, looks…worried. 

You went to ask her what was wrong, but she shook her head, looking somewhere behind you. 

You stare at the ground, watching as your shriveled shadow from the single-store light swiftly being absorbed by someone’s much larger frame. You gulp, not wanting to look behind you, knowing what – or who – you might want. 

Tall guy with a…coke bottle? Well, you weren’t expecting that. He gives you the bottle and you can almost see the condescending smile on his face as his fingers linger on your hand for longer than they should be. You take the offer, not really understanding what the fuck is really going on. 

— Thank…you? 

— No problem, kleine. 

You can hear the smile in his voice and your hands are trembling. Jenny looks at you with surprise, clearly not expecting nerdy ol’ you to pull someone so…well, not nerdy and maybe old. 

— What the fuck? Who is…

— I’ll explain in the car, alright? 

— Did you drop it or something? 

— I…I think I lost my wallet. Have you seen it? 

She stops for a second, thinking. There are a few things Jenny is good at – burning the tip of her tongue with a lighter, wearing crop tops, eating men alive (unless they are the most annoying ones alive). Lying isn’t one of them – not because she is a good person, but because she would rather flip your shit upside down and make you as upset as she possibly could. 

— Chad took it. Said you’d find the nearest bus to get the fuck out of here if you’d have it. 

He…

You can’t fucking believe this. All this humiliation because her annoying boyfriend didn’t want you to ruin this little unfriendly gathering. You feel angry tears in the corners of your eyes, almost ready to sniffle like the needy thing you are. God, you’re weak and pathetic and…

The Austrian guy behind you coughs, attracting attention. 

— Ladies like you shouldn’t go out this late. Bad things might happen. 

Jenny snorted and you already wanted to close your eyes. She was clearly not having it and she had a very short temper – you take a step back, towards her, hoping to set her down. Instead, she took one look at your pleading expressions, and it made her even more annoyed. She was never good with locals. 

— We’re getting out of this dump as soon as possible, sir. Didn’t ask for your opinion though. 

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. 

— Just wanted to warn you. Tourists are disappearing around these parts. 

— We’re not some dumb tourists. 

— Ach? You aren’t? 

Jenny fails to hear the amusement in her voice. You tuck the Coke bottle in your arms, hoping that they would stop. 

— We’re not a bunch of dumb tourists and we will call the police if you’d proceed harassing us. 

— Just wanted to give your friend what she forgot. Keep an eye on each other, ja? 

— We will. Fuck off before I’m calling the 9-1-1, verstehen? 

You feel even more embarrassed as she storms off to the truck where Chad and everyone else is staying, not even paying you a glance – too used to your sorry ass going right after her, like a lapdog that your other friend likes to bring everywhere in her tiny pink purse. 

You sigh, feeling horrible. The guy is creepy. Tall, looming over everyone, both of them are fucking terrifying – but they paid for the coke and the Austrian one is genuinely trying to tell you something. A bit paranoid, maybe, but you see the cargo jacket he is wearing, so he is probably either a paranoid survivalist or maybe a part of the military. You like having someone worried about your safety, even in more of a scary horror movie-esque form. 

— I’m…sorry for Jenny. She isn’t always like this, we’re just tired after a long road. 

— You were driving whole day? 

— We’re, um…on a trip. You know, a little getaway in the woods. Would have been nice. 

The giant tilts his head to the side. You just noticed that his hands are twitching a little, fidgeting with the bottom part of his jacket. You find it almost cute, endearing in a way – at least he is as anxious about talking to you as you are to him. You find yourself also fidgeting on the bottle, swirling it in your hands, never understanding what you should do in a somewhat normal social situation. 

— Be careful, kleine Hase. Like I said, it’s a dangerous place for young ladies like you. 

The way he said it, calling you a young lady, made him look extremely old – and made you feel even more embarrassed and uncertain about your future. Here you are, wasting your youth on shitty road trips to Austrian woods instead of reading horror books and watching romance movies. 

— Thank you, sir. I…I’ll keep that in mind. 

— Are you two alone on the trip? 

Alright, it was a bit creepy. his cold blue gaze bores in your face, making you feel small. 

— No, Our male friends are with us. 

He humms, almost sounding amused. 

— Good. Wouldn’t want it to be too easy. 

— Sorry? 

— Wouldn’t want someone bad to hurt you so easily. 

You smile. He is nice, even if a bit creepy – you nod slightly, taking a step towards the truck, since everyone else already got in and you still have a long road to the place of your camp. 

— Thank you for the bottle, sir. 

— You are welcome. Keep yourself safe, ja? 

You nod. 

Keeping yourself safe sure does sound nice. You can do it, right? (You can’t,  but you don’t know that yet)

[simpjaes]

currently thinking about frat!jayke fucking u in the hot tub infront of a major crowd of people… 😣 sitting ontop of jake whilst taking it in the back from jay as music (preferably “all the time” by jeremiah >_<) blasts loudly amongst the speakers, just to add a lil smth smth to such a sensual moment

not sure why but the thought of having sex in a bikini is so hot :// the fondling of straps and jaykes veiny hands in general ��

i am speaking from my grave.

warnings: anal with no prep // drunk fucking @ party

ah, you're wearing your bikini with the ties intentionally so whoever you have your eye on can have the easiest access possible at this shitty and trashy college party.

what you weren't expecting what having an eye for two people. Jay and Jake, the two guys you've seen occasionally on campus. They were always together, best friends or some shit.

you wouldn't know, your best friend chose to go to a different college out of state, but whatever.

what you also weren't expecting was for the two dudes who are always together to....share a girl??? publicly? as if laying claim to you blatantly showed their status over everyone else?

it kind of did, if you're being honest, because you cannot hold in the moans even when you fucking try. right here, shamelessly moaning for all ears to hear and all eyes to ogle at.

all cameras to record.

whatever.

what started with five or so people in this hot tub ended with just the three of you, where jay worked his magic through his hands and jake works his through words.

you were a goner, with or without the alcohol in your system to be honest. if jay were to untie the side of your bottoms the same way he just did when you were sober? you'd probably have untied the other side for him.

and when jake pulls you onto his lap? making you feel weightless in the bubbling hot water as you sat directly on it, and slid right down on him without so much as noticing when he pulled it out of his shorts? ah, made it even easier to not be shocked when you felt jay against your back.

his chest wet, dripping with that same warm water as he made sure you were right where you needed to be for his best friend.

your arousal that hit you like a ton a bricks within seconds, paired with jay's cock teasing you right against your ass? whatever, at this point you want to be fucked in all possible ways by the two men against you right now.

and they do just that. jay soothing you against your ear through the pain of him sliding straight into your ass with words of "aw, you're just gonna take him?", pretending like you definitely didn't need prep. jake, under you with his own words of "fuck, relax. squeezing me so tight-", holding your waist with a white knuckled grip, forcing both you and himself to try and adjust to the feeling of jay's thick cock forcing it's way into too-tight of a space.

ah, all three of you are panting by the time your body relaxes for both cocks, overheated, overstuffed, and there for all eyes to see within the span of a few minutes. not that you care. surely you will by the time monday comes around though.

except you don't. Because now you have two hot guys???? walking beside you??????? all the fucking time???????? constantly trying to get inside of you again?????????????????????

ah, college life. where you thought the grades would fuck you harder than any man could. And that would be 100% correct if it weren't for the fact that you didn't exactly factor in two hot guys :/

[bigfatbimbo]

I could be a better boyfriend —

Vox x Reader ,, 1.1k Words

summary — Reader yells at Valentino for being an asshole to Vox, spiraling them into an argument that eventually causes feelings to come out.

warnings — angst-ish, Vox and Val being the worst, toxic relationships, mild sexual tension

a/n — I had a great time writing this, to be honest. Hope I didn’t make Vox seem to innocent. Just to clarify he’s also the worst and a manipulator, he’s just the worst and a manipulated who’s desperate for validation and deserves better.

“Um, what the fuck was that?” Vox spat at you, after leading you into a different room. 

The two of you were in Val’s porn studio. You, only to see Vox, and Vox because, well, who knows why he would go to that god awful place unprompted. 

You didn’t want to start a fight with Val, but it was so easy when you saw how he treated people. Especially Vox. It got under your skin, how they affected each other.

It was so embarrassingly apparent to everyone that they were dysfunctional, and all Val did was stress Vox out with his useless bitching and overall toxic attitude 

“I know, he’s such a snobby dick. I can’t believe you hang around with that guy—“ You turn to face him and  realize it wasn’t Val he was talking about. 

Your chest swelled when a deep gust of anger overtook you. Not necessarily at Vox, but at his inability to understand how the situation escalated.

It started with normal flirting between the two, normal, obnoxious, terribly disgusting attempts at flirting. The word ‘attempt’ is used because calling it ‘flirting’ implies there were any undertones of romance.

However, unsurprisingly considering the current company, there was none. Val spoke only from his dick, and it was agonizing to watch.

Especially after the two inevitably started arguing because that’s what happens when they’re in each others company for too long. 

“Oh, come on, Vox. I’m the problem here?” You scoff and nod to the other room.

“Well, you did try to start a fight with a powerful overlord who’s, oh yeah, right, also my boyfriend,” Vox shouted, screen glitching out slightly. 

Still, you didn’t see error in your ways. You considered yourself a level-headed person, so when you lost your shit it really meant something. 

And, oh, it really did this time.

It was almost impossible to remember what Val had been bitching about on this ever-so joyous occasion. Something about Vox being in his space and crowding his area. ‘Fucking up his concentration,’ or something.

Of course, Vox fired back, and then Valentino, and so on. You almost rolled your eyes and left when Valentino had rose from his directors chair and started yelling at Vox like he had just committed the worst form of betrayal ever.

This time though, you could tell some of Valentinos words had gotten to Vox because, just for a second, his anger flickered into despair. It wasn’t noticeable, you were sure no one else picked up on it. After all, Vox would rather die than show vulnerability in front of a room full of pornstars. 

But before Vox had a chance to fire back, you had stepped in. Your face scrunched up recalling the moment.

“Vox, I was looking out for you, jesus christ. God forbid I help a friend stand up to his shitty, awful boyfriend,” your hands fly up in the air mockingly as you recount the events in your head.

You didn’t remember exactly what you said, just that you went off. You do, however remember leaving the studio speechless after your outburst. 

And Vox having to drag you away, with you still yelling at Val, in order to prevent a physical fight. That’s how you ended up here; a break room in a porn studio, being reprimanded for attempting to be a good friend.  How tragic.

“What makes you think you need to look out for me? I am well aware of Val’s—” he searched for the word, “—quirks. It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own, like I have been doing for the past decade, you asshole.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it on your own,” you reasoned, voice still harsh and cold, “Maybe, if you were dating someone better—“

“Oh? Like who? Who would possibly ever—“

“Me, you fucking dumbass,” You yelled in a moment of thoughtless impulse. 

That shut him up fast. Whatever argument he was cooking up slowly faded away into a blank stare. 

The silence lasted too long. 

“What— what are you saying?” Vox inquired, quieter than before. His eyes searched yours, desperately wanting you to explain yourself.

“You deserve someone who would treat you better, Vox. Someone, well, preferably me.” You finish, stepping towards him.

“I could treat you better, so much better. And hell, if not me, please just choose anyone but Valentino. I can’t—“ You try to grab his hand but he steps back.

“How?” He looks at you, trying to stay composed but silently pleading with you for an answer.

“How, what?”

“How would you treat me better?” 

You simply look at him. His performative walls were slowly coming down. Or at least they will, depending on how you answer.

Still, you stay quiet for too long.

“Well, I wouldn’t yell at you for just being around me,” You try, but continue after realizing it wasn’t enough, “I’d listen to you, actually listen. Not just complain and expect unconditional comfort or support.”

That sparked his interest so you keep going. 

“I’d make you coffee when you work late, black, just how you like it. Oh, and I wouldn’t forget our anniversary, thats…fucked. I’d let you lean on my shoulder when you were tired and— and I’d take care of you when you bite off more than you could chew, work wise. I wouldn’t yell at you. Not too much, anyways. I’d compliment you and praise you, tell you how proud of you I am.”

You had inched closer and closer to him during this speech, until your bodies were practically pressed together.

His usual facade was almost completely gone, he looked needy, no desperate, miserably craving something from you. He didn’t know if he wanted to be fucked stupid, or hugged until he fell asleep.

“Well, I…” He tried, but unfortunately Vox’s charismatic demeanor wasn’t helping him here, “…I wasn’t aware you felt that way.”

Your hands fell on his cheeks, or more accurately where they would be, and caressed them gently.

His eyes fluttered shut out how gentle you were. His hands subconsciously flew to your hips to brace himself when he leaned in to kiss you.

You kissed back, harder, as if you’ve been waiting forever. Which, it felt like you had. His hands drifted up to pull you in by your shirt collar, deepening the kiss, as yours fell to rest on his chest. Eventually, they went you his back and pulled him closer to you than before.

The kiss was tender, sweet, but hungry and depraved. When you finally broke, neither of you spoke for a long time, still breathing heavily, foreheads almost pushed together.

“Why didn’t we—“ Vox panted, “—why didn’t we do that before?”

You laugh weakly. “So, what’s it gonna be?” You ask, “Me or Valentino?” 

a/n — Probably gonna be the last fic of the night. I am SO tired. So sadly no railing Vox fic, like I hoped.

[signedkoko]

Signed with Love - Helluva Cast

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Characters - Blitzo | Fizzarolli | Loona | Millie | Moxxie | Stolas | Striker | Verosika | Wally Wackford

Series Parts Hazbin Cast - Here! Overlords & Sins - Here!

Dear, Hey, Whats up

Oh what the hell, just be my valentine, we both know its about time I just fuckin ask.

I can't promise anything lavish, but what I do have is a kitchen and a comfortable couch. Maybe you can try showing me how to bake and we can eat what we make while watching some shitty romcoms.

Whatever makes you happy,

Oh come on, you know who wrote this.

Heeellloooooo!

I know you are usually the one to ask, but this year I wanted to change things up a little! Be my valentine?

While we could go somewhere crowded and wait forever for food, I thought maybe this year we could stay home, order a bunch of takeout, and spend time together?

And of course, I love you,

"Froggie"

Don't freak out,

I swear this isn't a ransom note, I just wasn't sure how else to ask you to be my valentine.

You know how we both wanted to go to the lovesick festival but ti was sold out? Well, don't ask how but I got tickets. Now we can go watch idiots get drunk and pass out in front of their girlfriends, and enjoy a bunch of our fav bands.

Outfit theme: Hot as fuck?

X Loona

Hi sweetie!

I know technically it's your turn for valentines this year, but I know you've been busy and I wanted to surprise you!

My parents called and told me they need someone to house sit while they are away for the week, so we could enjoy valentines on the ranch and I can show you my home! Especially the food and festivals I always tell you about.

Happy Valentines ❣

Millie

Hi dear ❣

Maybe it's getting old by now, but for yet another year I would love to have you as my valentine.

I don't know where I'd be without you, you make my hellish work at least a tad bit bearable and inspire me every day. I've already had to erase several rambles, so I'll save the rest of the sweet talk for the date. Just be ready in formal attire for 6, because we have a show to catch!

I'm sure you'll look amazing ❣

— Moxx

To the sweetest one I know,

I've been inspired by the books I've been reading to handwrite a letter to you, so you have something to keep for memory sake.

To have you by my side for another valentines is a dream come true, last year you pulled together such an amazing evening that I can only hope to outdo tonight. I would like to take you to see the stars, I know you've always asked and I believe it is about time.

Thank you for being mine,

Prince Stolas

Howdy darlin'

While originally I wasn't going to be home on time, I made sure to finish up this mission early so I can be there with ya for valentines. I'd call, but I know you swoon for romantic gestures, dontcha?

I'll handle all the details of our outing, just relax and don't worry your pretty head about a darn thing.

Can't wait to get home and see you again,

Who else?

Miss me?

I had to head out for a gig early, so sorry I couldn't catch you at the door before I left! I hope this note will suffice in the mean time.

Since I can't bring you, I have a limo headed to pick you up around five, that should give you time to get ready for the concert! Your pass is with the driver, and you've got front row seats, kay? I better see you cheering for me ❣

Happy valentines day,

Mayday 💋

Greetings, I say I say,

It's not everyday sheepish imps such as myself get such a heavenly opportunity to court a sweet thing like yourself!

For you, and you only my dear, I will spend such a lucritive holiday with my one and only. Should you accept, I am pleased to inform you that we have been invited to Ozzie's! Isn't he the kindest?

x x x x x x x

W. WACKFORD

Authors Note - Okay be honest with me WHO ARE WE ACCEPTING A LETTER FROM?? I gotta know,,, This is the last of the valentines series, I hope you all enjoyed!

[p-0-p-3]

.

[suuuupernovaaa]

zeykoyu

zeykoyu [zɛj.ˈko.ju] n. healer

Anonymous Request: I would like to request a Neteyam x Na'vi reader with the "you'll never be her trope", where reader is promised to Neteyam, but he loves another. He is sort of a shitty asshole to her, a girl who is a quiet not very well known member of the clan; he treats reader with the coldest shoulder. However, he overhears the girl talking to her friends about how she just using Neteyam to gain status in the clan. He then sees reader for the caring person she is, and grovels for forgiveness.

I have resigned myself to my fate.

In what feels like a very short amount of time, I will be mated for life before Eywa, to a man who does not love me. In fact, he barely seems to tolerate me.

He looks at me with disappointment, and sometimes, it even looks like he feels disgusted by me.

It wasn't always this way. Neteyam used to be a friend, and someone I trusted. He was so kind and good-hearted when we were younger, but he has turned his back on me and come to resent our pairing.

As if it is my choice! I am the next Tsahik of our people, and he the next Olo'eyktan. We are promised to each other from youth, and there's nothing either of us can do that would not cause much upset in the clan, and with our families.

Though Neteyam clearly does not want to be mated to me, even more than that, he does not want to upset his family.

The change in his heart happened just a year ago, and it was slow at first. We went from friends to acquaintances to strangers, and now to near enemies, because of her.

I don't really blame her, though. He fell in love with her, and she can't control that. I felt jealous at first, but over time, as Neteyam has treated me more and more coldly, I have started to hate both of them.

If I'm being honest, I understand why he loves her; she is beautiful, and funny, and many men have had their eyes on her. I am plain, and small, and not many people speak to me. She does seem a better match for someone like Neteyam, and I almost wish we could be free of this pairing.

As much as Neteyam does not want to disappoint his family, I don't want to disappoint our people; I am a talented healer and I will serve our people well as Tsahik.

So I have resigned myself to my fate.

Our fate.

--

Neteyam watches Sa'me from a distance, as she approaches the center of home tree with her friends, dropping off a full fishing net from a day's work.

His heart swells with pride at the woman he loves, and then, he gets angry. These two feelings always accompany each other.

Love and adoration for Sa'me, and disappointment towards his fate. It doesn't matter who he loves; he's promised to Y/N, and he can't get out of it. That's just not how it works.

She is the next Tsahik and he knows, despite how he wants things to be, that she will be an excellent Tsahik for their people. He has to put the people before himself.

But he does not have to be happy about it.

He approches Sa'me and her friends, but their backs are to him as they empty their nets, and as he gets closer, he hears their conversation.

"Aren't you worried, about his upcoming mating ceremony?" one friend asks.

To his surprise, Sa'me laughs. "No! I have gotten what I wanted, and I am relieved it will end soon."

He stops in his tracks, listening closely.

"Sa'me!" a friend chastises.

"Well, I have three offers for my hand, from fine men. I owe that to Neteyam. When they knew he wanted me, that made them want me. I think I'll pick Marek - he's handsome and strong. Neteyam is nice, but too boring for me. Plus, the way he's treated Y/N since we started spending time together... I almost feel bad for her. She will have a miserable life."

The girls laugh, and Neteyam spins on his heel, charging away.

--

He expects sympathy from his sister, but earns only an eye-roll when he tells Kiri what he overheard.

"Well, she's right. You knew you were promised and pursued Sa'me anyway, even though it was kind of obvious what she was doing. And you have been an asshole to Y/N. She's really nice to still put up with you - to even speak with you. You've treated her like dirt the last year, and she's never said a mean thing about you. Even though, she would be right to do it."

Neteyam stares at his sister, slack jawed, unsure whether to feel angry or guilty. A fine mixture of both rises in his chest, and he sighs.

"You used to be friends with her, you know. She's so sweet, and so kind. She's only putting up with your behavior so she can be Tsahik, and not because she cares about the title. She wants to help the People, and knows she'll be able to if she's Tsahik. She just has to marry an asshole to do it."

"Okay, okay," Neteyam says, waving his hand in the air, begging his sister to stop.

"Well, I just don't feel bad for you, Teyam. You need to grow up and deal with what you did."

He rolls his eyes, but he can't deny it: Kiri is right.

--

Without her noticing, Neteyam starts to watch Y/N as much as he can from that day in. Her daily routine is simple. She rises early, and heads into the forest to gather supplies she can use in her healing practice. Once she's done, she begins going around to people who she knows need her help, in and out of their homes all day, gaining hugs and smiles and thanks wherever she goes.

She is soft-spoken, and kind hearted, and her small stature only serves to make her seem more gentle, more dispositioned for healing.

He sees the way people look at her as she approaches - they look at her with relief, and hope, and when she leaves, she leaves people better than she found them.

Neteyam feels sick to his stomach.

He tries to remember what it is about Sa'me that drew him in. He sees her beauty, he can't deny it still, but it's clear now that her beauty is only on the surface.

Did she ever compliment him? Support him? Offer him a kind word?

He can't even remember what they talked about... for a year.

"Neteyam?"

He turns from the tree he's leaning against and sees Y/N approaching, a large basket in her arms.

"You look ill. Are you okay?"

Neteyam wants to tell her he's fine, that she should leave, but he feels light-headed and instead, he sinks to the ground, a sweat breaking out on his brow.

"I'm... okay. My head feels light."

She kneels in front of him, rummaging through her basket. She pours a few things in a cup, and mixes them together with a powder.

"Here," she says, handing it to him. He takes it, his hands touching hers for a second, and he's struck by how small her hands are.

She's so delicate, like a flower, and he has certainly done his best to trample all over her.

The shame he feels is unlike anything he's ever felt before.

The drink is bitter, but it starts working almost immediately, and the faint feeling begins to fade.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says, handing the cup back to her. She takes it with a small smile and a nod, and rises to leave. Neteyam reaches out, grabbing her arm. "Wait."

She turns, frowning down at him. He stands up.

"I want to apologize to you, Y/N. I have been... terrible. I have neglected you, and I have been an asshole. I'm sorry. I would like to start again."

She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes, staring deep into him. He wonders if she can see his soul.

--

Of all of the things I thought Neteyam wanted to say to me, 'I'm sorry' was not even on the list.

My instinct is to tell him to go to tell, but there is such a strange look on his face... he still looks sick, and sad, and a little bit ashamed.

Well, he should be. But also - what choice do I have? If Neteyam is offering me a chance to make the best of this situation, shouldn't I take it?

I remember how I felt about him once. Hopeful, excited, nearly in love... but that feeling is so far away now. I'm not sure if there's even a possibility of re-gaining it.

But, it seems smart to try, if we are to have any chance at a happy life.

"Okay," I reply finally. "But I don't think Sa'me will appreciate it."

Neteyam hangs his head for a moment, and then meets my eyes again. "What she appreciates does not matter. You are to be my mate. You are all that matters."

He places a hand over his heart.

I would like to trust him, but it's going to take more than one conversation where he says the right things.

--

It seems I cannot get rid of Neteyam now. When I gather supplies in the morning, he is there. When I make my rounds in the village, he is there. He is always... there.

Not silently, either. He is full of questions. Everything I do and say, he has a question about. If it wasn't endearing, it would be exhausting.

After a week of this, he asks me to take a ride on our ikrans with him - and I can't say no. I have been so busy working lately, that it sounds like a wonderful and welcome break.

Early in the morning, we head out together, and take one of the longest rides I've ever been on. In the air, we twist and turn and glide together, and all the while, Neteyam is whooping and throwing me ear-to-ear smiles.

He gestures to a nearby cave in the floating rocks, and we land together, dismounting. We are both wind-burnt, but smiling.

"I must ask you something," I say.

"Anything," Neteyam replies, chest heaving from the effort of riding.

"Why did you change your mind? About Sa'me?"

His face darkens, and he sighs. "I overheard her talking about how being seen with me has gotten her offers from many fine potential mates, and she doesn't care that I'm promised to someone else."

I wince. Even if Neteyam is a jerk, I don't think anyone deserves to be used like that.

"I'm sorry, Neteyam. Though, that does explain your sudden... interest."

He shakes his head. "No. After I heard what Sa'me said, I went to Kiri and she, uh, pointed out what an asshole I've been. She also pointed out how kind and smart and talented you are, probably to let me know, uh, what an asshole I've been. So I started kind of, uh, watching you. And I realized she was right."

"About what?"

"Well, I am an asshole but... you are the most kind-hearted woman in this clan. And you did not try to withdraw from our match because you deserve to be Tsahik. Not for the title, but because you are best suited to serve our people. You care about them more than yourself. You're selfless. And beautiful. And I was blind to think anyone could be better suited for me."

I bite my lip, and take a step back. "Neteyam, that all sounds very nice, but I..."

He steps forward, reaching out and taking both of my hands in his. "It isn't enough. I know that, Y/N. I don't expect our problems to be solved now. I just want a chance to prove to you, who I really am. What a good mate I can be for you. I can make you happy. I want to. It's all I want."

I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes, and I blink hard to keep them at bay. "I always thought so highly of you, Neteyam. I want us to be happy. I want to try."

He squeezes my hand tightly, pulling me to him.

"I will make you happy. I promise you, Y/N. Please, let me kiss you."

I hesitate for only a moment. The look in his eyes is so sincere, and his eyes fall down to my lips for just a moment, then back up to my eyes, and I can't resist. Everything I want seems to be within my grasp.

He places his hands around my waist, and pulls me in.

"Say yes," he whispers. I can't find my voice, but I nod.

The kiss is explosive. A year of anger, frustration and want packed into one kiss. My body is flush to his, and I feel the tears spilling over, but I can't stop them, and I don't want to pull away.

It feels too good.

I put my hands in his hair, gripping tightly, sighing against his lips, and he groans.

Finally, we pull away, and stare at each other, both breathless.

"I will make you happy, healer," he whispers.

I might believe him now.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

listening to music in his car

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, pure smutty smut, consensual somno, light degradation, butt stuff, mdni)

👑 (king): whats going on? is something wrong? you’re much less chatty today me: I just had a really shitty day at work do you have some time? 👑 (king): yes me: can you pick me up and we just drive around and listen to music in your car? 👑 (king): be there in 10

He’s right, I am being much less chatty today. The truth is he has been on my mind all day, but work has been kicking my butt.

We didn’t see each other ever since he brought me to work yesterday in the morning. He insisted on it after almost making me late – for reasons. We hurried along, and I made us some coffee quickly, then we were out the door, into the car, and driving to my workplace.

The goodbye was a little awkward because I needed to get into work, but I couldn’t really tear myself away from him. His hand grabbed my chin and he kissed me one last time.

“Come on now, before I’m making you late again.”, he said, those words finally getting me to go, even though his hooded lids and the way he was looking at me made me want to climb onto his lap and fuck him again.

To say I had a hard time concentrating at work would be an understatement because I kept thinking about that morning. How he woke me up.

Soft licks on my pussy slowly but surely coaxing me awake, and the first thing I saw, was his head between my legs, his tongue dipping into me, the rosy tip disappearing inside me, which almost made me come on the spot. His hair was falling to the side, covering my thigh, brushing over the skin when he moved his head.

A soft moan escaped my lips which had him look up at me, his brows raising slightly, as I squirmed against his lips. “Good morning.”, he whispered softly against my pussy before he licked it again.

Heaven. I slowly stretch myself, grinding myself on his face, his nose nudging against my clit. Answering with a little tired “good morning”, a breathy sound, that made him chuckle, little puffs of air hitting the sensitive wet folds.

His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me for him, as he started to lick and suck more eagerly now that I’m awake. The zaps of pleasure, that shook me when he nipped at the sensitive skin, pushed my sleepiness away until I was a writhing wet mess coming undone on his tongue.

He didn’t stop at the one, this time using his fingers as well. Slowly and sweetly coaxing the second release out of me while he was sucking my clit. Licking up my arousal, even cleaning up his fingers that had been deep inside me.

I caught myself looking into the void, my mind coming back to his head between my legs more than once. My god, I needed to get a grip.

Such an event came in the form of our boss firing half the department. I didn’t get laid off, but I have been picking up the scraps ever since. Trying to figure out how the others managed their clients. How to distribute the tasks between the remaining workers.

Yesterday evening I met with a friend, one I have known for a very long time and who already has a husband and kids and the whole shebang, that’s why I didn’t wanna give her a raincheck. To be honest, I needed somebody to talk to about this whole mess. And also brag about my new acquaintance.

I fell into bed after coming home from having drinks with her. I maaaybe had one too many which almost made me late again (which is not a good look after half your department had been fired). Working on double speed to get everything done that piled up just overnight. And I sent König a few messages. But not nearly talking as much as before the concert.

Now that I see his message again “is something wrong?”, a pang of guilt hits me. I could’ve explained it to him better. I could’ve just texted him more. I could’ve just said that I’ll tell him later. That I just was busy and it had nothing to do with him. Shit.

I leave my apartment and wait for him on the curb, waving at him, when he drives closer and parks right in front of me.

“König Private Chauffeur inc. – at your service.”, he jokes as I get in the car, which makes me laugh.

“Thanks for picking me up.”, I tell him, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. Can I kiss him? Is he… mad at me? He wouldn’t have made a joke like that or even picked me up, if he is, right?

I decide to first talk and then maybe steal a kiss later if he still feels up to it. I clasp my hands together and place them in my lap. The music from the speakers is a bit more quiet than last time, but I still recognise Dark Tranquility’s ‘Lethe’. He pulls out the driveway and starts driving at a pace above the speed limit that won’t get him in trouble if we get pulled over.

“I need to apologise.”, I start. He just looks at me for a moment, the expression on his face unreadable, before looking to the front again. And I’m aware of his serious intensity, while there is something still bubbling underneath. The same thing that just made him make the joke about being my chauffeur.

“Something happened at work and I was superbusy and yesterday in the evening I met with a friend, I told you about that, didn’t I?”, I yapp, not waiting for an answer. “And when I saw your messages, that was when I realized that I had barely texted you and didn’t even explain myself, and how that must’ve look after…” I trail off.

“I started to get worried.”, he admits. “But I didn’t want to press you because it’s not my place.” He clears his throat. “And for a little bit, I thought you maybe regretted it. What we did.”, he says with a wry smile on his face. And my stomach drops – just a little bit.

“What, no?! I just had the shittiest two days ever at work, so I didn’t have that much time to text you.”, I exclaim, reaching my hand out to touch his arm, and his gaze drops down to it for just a little bit, panning back up to me. “I swear, it had nothing to do with you. I’m sorry.” I smile at him and he nods, some of the worry dissipating. “And I don’t regret sleeping with you. Not in the slightest.”, I tell him, looking directly at him, so he knows I’m serious. I can feel the tension drop out of him, at least some of it, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna… I thought that maybe the age difference…”, he starts to explain, but breaks off twice. “It seems, I was overthinking it.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry.” To be fair, I would have never thought that it would give him some kind of insecurity – this kind of insecurity. But his messages and his words make it clear that he cared more about the whole ordeal than I thought. I pull my hand back, hesitatingly, not really knowing what else to say. His doubts were only in his head, not in mine.

"I’m gonna be honest with you, I didn't have any dates or sleepovers of that kind in like… probably four or five years?”, he says, the sentence more sounding like a question. “So, I’m a bit rusty.”

To say I’m flabbergasted by his admission would be an understatement. “Really?”, I ask. How? would be the next question. But I bite my tongue.

He shrugs his shoulders, seeming more nonchalant than he perhaps really is. “Yeah. I was too busy with work.”, he just says, but I can still see little nervous ticks happening all over his body. His thumb drumming on the steering wheel, his left leg bouncing up and down a bit. His other hand fidgeting with the gear shift, dropping down, grazing my thigh ever so slightly. Just the slight touch against my jeans makes me hyperaware of how close he is. The interior of the car is spacious enough, but due to his sheer size that doesn’t really matter. I lean more to the side, towards the center console, even closer to him.

“So, what happened at work?”, he asks then, seemingly not wanting to talk about his dating life anymore. I tell him about the whole mess with the department, and how I’m surprised that even though my boss doesn’t like me very much, I didn’t get cut, and that I now have all of Rhonda’s clients and they’re not happy about that either.

“So yeah, I’ve been extra busy and I can’t really slack because they’ll probably fire me too then.”, I conclude my extensive retelling of my last two work days.

“I see.”, he says.

Silence falls over us, ‘Spiritual Healing’ from Death sounding from the speakers.

“And… it really wasn’t anything I did?”, he asks then, his eyes darting to me.

I tilt my head at him, like ‘you’re seriously asking me this?’. “No, I swear. Everything is good. It was…” I look to the front as red-hot blush floods my cheeks. My god, this man made me cum twice on his tongue right after waking up without wanting any favours – sexual or otherwise – in return. And he feared that he did something wrong.

I clear my throat, trying to calm myself down, thinking about that whole ordeal, but it wasn’t working at all. Especially because he catches on how flustered I am. “It was good. Had a hard time thinking about anything else, when I really needed to focus on work.”, I confess. And not just the thing in the morning, right. The concert we went to together, the conversation in the car afterward, when we hooked up and he stayed over… A very dreamy first date – if you can call it that – in my book.

“I see. That’s…” His lips quirk as he’s trying to stay serious, but I can see him breaking, turning his mouth up into a smirk. “That’s good to know.”

“Don’t grin like that.”, I tell him, a little pouty, which only makes him laugh, while he takes a turn, so we’re heading down the road that leads outside the city.

His hand mindlessly wanders to his lips, his thumb softly stroking over his lower lips, like he’s also thinking about what we did, the reminder of how we kissed making my mouth drop open ever so slightly.

He sees the way I’m looking at him, and the pointer finger hooks in a ‘come hither’ motion. It doesn't take more than that. I lean towards him, bending up to reach him, my hand gripping his forearm, and I press my lips to his, feeling their softness. Just a short kiss because he’s still driving, but it is enough to make me sigh when he breaks away.

“So, tell me again, how good was it for you?”, he asks, a devilish grin forming on his face while his eyes dart between my face and the street in front of him.

I shoot him a look, but he only chuckles, a cocky sound. Oh, two can play this game. I’ll just remind him how desperate and turned on he was as well.

I lean closer to him once more, this time letting my hand trail down his stomach, placing kisses along his jawline, and I can almost hear him falter instantly, especially when my fingertips reach the waistband of his jeans. I lick his neck and a slight shiver shakes him, before I suck on it, leaving a small little hickey, like the one he left on my collarbone.

“Please.”, I say again, palming him over the zipper. His breath goes harder, the leather of the steering wheel squeaks with how hard he’s gripping it, while I softly graze over the hard tip that’s already poking out his jeans, his erection straining against the fabric.

“I need you to fuck me.”, I almost moan into his ear, a little bratty smile stalking onto my face. “Need you deep inside me.”

I can hear his restraint snap. He grunts, pulling the car to the side, parking it on the side of the road. “Get on the backseat.”, he orders, looking at me all stern, pure lust glinting in his eyes, and I scramble to get the seatbelt off and climb back through the seats.

That tone in his voice and that look on his face could make me do anything, my god. I suppress my need to answer with a “Yes, Sir” and watch him, while he gets out the driver’s side and opens the door to the backseat.

“Lie down, ass up.”, he tells me, gravelly and hoarse. I do as he told me and he pulls at my pants, pulling them far enough down to expose my ass and pussy. He climbs in behind me, onto the seat, his jeans grazing over the exposed skin of my thighs, and I have to hold myself back not to press back into his groin. He closes the door behind him and dwarfs the backseat with his sheer size, trying to fit under the car’s roof.

His hand comes down on my left cheek, the slap resounding in the space around us, drowning out the music for a split second. He spanks me again, a few times actually, which has me squirm, needy, wet and desperate for his touch. His fingers lightly graze over the reddened skin before he slaps my cheeks again, while his other hand finds my wetness, fingertips rubbing over my clit.

“If I had known that you are such a needy little thing…”, he says, pushing his fingers into me roughly. I whimper, his words only making me wetter, as I grind against his hand.

“Oh, you like that, huh?”, he asks, a rather rhetorical question.

“Yes, please, fuck.”, I groan, my nails digging into the firm black leather of the backseat, desperate to hold on to something, while the pushes of his digits alone almost make me slide forwards. Trying to fuck myself back onto him, my hips buck of their own volition.

“Please, I need more.”, I beg, and he grumbles, pulling his finger out of me and trying to grab his wallet to get a condom.

“That’s not more.”, I comment, meekly, teasing him, the little smirk on my face hidden, but he knows anyway. One of his hands slaps my ass again, harder this time, and I whine and giggle, wriggling underneath him.

He opens the foil packet with his teeth while his other hand fumbles with his belt. Hurried, rushed movements. I hear the snap of the rubber and then he pushes into me. The sudden stretch makes me scream, my back arching.

“Is that what you wanted, Kleine?”, he almost growls, as he starts to fuck me hard, the whole car shaking from his onslaught. “For me to take you right here on the backseat, hm?”

The “yes, yes, yes” from my mouth is more moans than actual words.

“Fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”, he grunts, the inflection in his voice getting more and more unhinged while he pounds into me. “Like a good little slut.” The light degradation washes over me, stoking my arousal. My fingers clasp over my mouth, moaning into my hand, while I struggle to hold on with the other one-

“Oh no no no, I need to hear you.”, he grunts, pulling them away from my lips, letting his hand rest on my shoulder then, using his hold on me as leverage to pound me even harder. The sounds that drop from my throat are almost obscene, drowning out the music.

With him fucking me from behind like that – he is so deep inside me, I feel his tip nudging against my cervix every single time, the intense feeling making me shake. The soft pillow of my asscheeks is softening every blow, but the slap against my skin reminds me that he spanked my butt before.

He spits, the dollop of saliva running down my crack. I can feel his thumb dragging the spit over my puckered hole, until he pushes into it, and the sensation makes my arms weak. The side of my face is getting pushed into the leather seat, my ass high up, his dick driving into my pussy, while he slowly pushes his thumb into my other hole, using the very same hand to pull my hips against his lap.

“Oh fuck.”, drops from my lips as he starts to also fuck me with his thumb, not at the same pace, slower, but the added pressure is driving me crazy. I won’t make it long like this.

I can feel how my thighs start to shake, the one leg almost dropping from the backseat, my pussy is squeezing him, the sensations of his finger in my ass- it’s all too much.

My toes are curling inside my boots that press against the nice leather of the seat, dirtying it up. His lap collides with my behind again, his length bottoming me out, while the digit inside of me presses down, just slightly, and I can feel the tension snap like a rubberband, the zap of pleasure getting flung through my body.

With a loud incoherent curse, I cum around him, pulsing on his dick and thumb, the convulsions shaking me hard. He’s still fucking me through the orgasm, the continued stimulation taking my breath away until I feel tears prick in the corners of my eyes, and I slump down into the cushioned seat, when he pushes into me one last time and cums too, his fingers digging into my ass, almost bruising the plump skin.

The next few moments are filled with our panting breaths and some song playing that I can’t recognize while my brain is still hazy with pleasure.

“Are you okay?” The first question he asks.

“Yes, I’m fucking perfect.”, I mumble I’m not even exaggerating. This was everything I needed.

I straighten myself up and he pulls back, almost hitting his head on the roof of the interior, and I have to clasp my fingers over my lips to hold back the giggle. He shoots me a look nonetheless and quickly gets rid of the condom, pulling it from his softening dick and putting both away, while I more or less put my clothes in place again, which is more difficult with arms made of putty.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I got carried away.”, he breathes, his chest rising with every breath, his hands reaching for me, pulling me onto his lap. His eyes are searching mine again, the same as last time.

My hand shoots up, cupping his cheek. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize, that was great.”, I tell him. The look on his face is painted in surprise.

“Mein Gott, I don’t know what I did to...”, he mumbles, hiding his face in the crook of my neck, the rest of the sentence getting swallowed up.

We stay like that a little longer, my fingers scratching over his scalp, caressing him softly, as he snuggles into me, his arm thrown around me like a weighted blankie. Music is still coming from the speakers in the car, ‘Love You to Death’ is currently playing which makes me chuckle to myself. I could have stayed here for hours, in his car, the scent of leather and himself engulfing me. The soft vibrations of the bass shaking the seats. Sitting on his lap, cuddled into his arms. The warmth of his body almost lulling me to sleep. The way he presses kisses to my cheeks and temples every so often. Little small touches, soft and tender.

“I’ll bring you home, okay?”, he says after a while and I nod. I pull my panties and pants up properly and climb into the front seat again.

I turn the music up louder, and ‘Sulfur’ from Slipknot is shaking the speakers while he gets in the driver’s seat again. I hum along to the song, sitting in my seat, looking up at him like nothing had happened. The way he’s looking at me, serious on the outside, but I can see the bubble of mischief in his eyes, and it makes a grin form on my lips, while I sing “like breathing in sulfur.” That pulls a laugh from his chest, and that hearty full-of-life sound makes butterflies flutter in my stomach.

“What?”, I ask him, grinning up at König.

He shakes his head, his grin at least as wide as mine. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” He starts the car and mutters something, that I can’t quite hear with the music so loud. “It’s great, even.”

next part: sending him a naughty pic

~ More Stuff in the Masterlist ~

[arlowthenacho]

that funny feeling

(carmen berzatto x reader)

summary: you thought carmen berzatto was just a hookup. a fuck-buddy. key word, you thought.

warnings: cursing, allusions to sex but not really? its only mentioned a couple times. no smut, intended lowercase, if theres anything i missed plz let me know !!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: arlow thought about carmen spoon feeding them and made it angsty lol. this is rlly short but fret not !! i think this is gonna be a 2 parter, possibly 3 parter? idk, but i think its gonna be a series lol. anyway, enjoy my lovelies !! 🫶🤍

it started as a one time thing. a one-night-stand. a meaningless hookup. something that would and could only happen once.

until it happened again. and again, and again.

because carmen berzatto was a drug, and you were addicted to him. you craved him like lungs crave oxygen, but you weren’t sure that the feeling was reciprocated.

because if carmen berzatto was a book, he’d be written in code. scrawled in a language you didn’t understand, in writing to confusing to decipher. because carmen berzatto was nothing if not confusing.

a sudden vibration on your nightstand pulls you from your thoughts as you swipe open the screen. a text from carmen. shit.

carmy 🧑‍🍳

you up?

fuck. shit, shit, shit.

you quickly sit up and type back a response.

yeah.

you hold down the backspace button. too simple.

i wasn’t until you woke me up

pop. too accusatory.

i am now. whats up?

good enough.

you click send and set your phone back down on your bed, waiting for a response.

bzz.

the reply was almost instant. maybe that scared you a little bit.

your finger hovers over the screen, debating whether to open the text now, or just forget about it until the morning.

the former won.

carmy 🧑‍🍳

can you come over?

oh. oh.

you don’t know why you expected anything different. it’s not like you were dating him. even though you wish you were. in his eyes, you were just a casual hookup who he occasionally called for something not relating to sex.

you heave a sigh and shift your eyes back over to the phone in your hands.

yeah, ok.

sent.

you don’t really care if it sounds passive aggressive, or angry, or disappointed or whatever else it could sound like to him. to be quite honest, you just want to get this over with.

you quickly change out of your pajamas into something more presentable. a white sweater, blue jeans, throw in some lacy undergarments and you’re heading out the door and into your car.

you turn on the ignition and start the short drive to carmy’s apartment. you have his address memorized, (which you will deny is creepy until your dying day) so you don’t need to use a gps.

you turn on some music and try to distract your racing thoughts. its not like this is the first time you’re meeting him. no, far from it. but you don’t think your brain has processed that yet, because your heart is pounding and fluttering like a bird caged within your chest.

you finally make it to his apartment after what feels like an hour, and you’re standing—quite awkwardly—at carmen’s door, your fist hovering over the wood hesitantly.

after a full minute of standing at the door with your arm raised, you decide to bite the bullet and knock on the damn door.

so you do.

and he answers instantly. like a fucking gentleman.

his hair is tousled, and he runs a hand through it nervously. his eyes somehow look even more blue in the shitty light the hallway of his building provides, and it’s driving you crazy.

he is gorgeous. he is perfect. he’s all the synonyms for beautiful you can cram into one human being.

“hi,”

carmen’s voice is deep and gravelly, still thick with sleep even though he’s probably been awake for some time now.

“hey,”

a beat passes.

“can i-?”

he jolts up from the doorway he was leaning on.

“oh, yeah. shit—yeah, come in. sorry.”

an apron is tied around his waist, a gray sweater fitting loosely around his frame. it makes his eyes appear bright, like gleaming pools of sapphire that you want to spend every pretty penny on.

nonetheless, you smile politely and step into his apartment.

no matter how many times you’ve been here, the first thing you notice is always his bookshelves. more so, the books. cookbooks, magazines, culinary textbooks and newspaper articles litter his floor and decorate his walls.

the second thing you always notice is his ever-growing collection of denim. jeans and jackets make up most of his wardrobe, and are crammed into whatever space he could find.

after looking around his small apartment, a smell hits your nose.

its…pasta?

no, that can’t be it. you were just here to fuck, right? the food was probably for someone else. for work, or somebody he wanted a real relationship with. not you.

the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you sigh, disappointment crashing into your heart like waves against rocks for the second time tonight.

despite that, you’re the first to break the silence.

“aren’t we going to your room?” you cringe at the tone of your voice. it sounded exactly how you felt. disappointed, hurt, maybe a little bitter.

“what? sorry, couldn’t hear you.” carmen leans down to you to hear better, his breath a faint whisper against your skin. your breath hitches.

“aren’t we going to your room?” you repeat, a tad louder than before.

“oh. no, no, no. no, that not—that isn’t—” carmen seems to be at a loss for words, and he feels like a total dick.

“we aren’t?” you’re confused, but hide it well. you raise a brow pointedly. “then why’d you ask me to come over?” for the first time in a couple of minutes, you notice where you followed him.

“i—just,” he searches around for something.

a spoon, full of some kind of red sauce. he cups his hand under the utensil to catch anything that drips, and urges you to come closer.

you’re in his kitchen. his safe space. his fucking sacred space.

and suddenly a wave of confusion and frustration and hope is erupting within you. so many emotions and so much fucking hope. hope that this could be something more. hope that maybe you were wrong. silly, foolish, childish hope that enthralls you completely in its deceitfully warm embrace.

he’s still holding the spoon to your mouth when he speaks.

“can you try it? it’s something for the bear. for the new menu. wanted your opinion on it.” he looks nervous, like he wasn’t the one who invited you over. like he isn’t currently the one lighting your cheeks ablaze and causing your to heart implode under the sheer force of your adoration for him.

“oh, um, yeah. of course.”

he smiles. a close-lipped thing that makes you want to kiss it off of him.

you move to take the spoon from him, but he gently shoves your arm down against your side, says “open up,” and puts the spoon in your mouth.

the food is great. more than great. but you’d be lying if you said you were paying attention to that.

because carmen fucking berzatto just spoon fed you. like a couple.

and now the domesticity is crushing you, mind, body and soul.

because you’re in love with carmen berzatto.

and by some miracle, he might be in love with you too.

[kissitbttr]

frat!Miguel and reader getting into an argument and them posting indirects on each others snap/insta stories and them reposting shady tiktoks knowing the other will see it until miguel just cracks and starts posting cute shit abt her😁😁😁

you are petty when it comes to arguing, never wanted to be the one to take defeat. you will crawl on broken glasses to hell and back before admitting that you’re wrong,

and sometimes it takes a toll on miguel, he’s frustrated over how you are so hard headed sometimes. because then it would lead to this. silent treatment and you stopping to go over the frat house,

but what drives him crazy the most is when he sees all the spam reposts on tiktok coming from your acc, somehow all of them made it to his for you page,

at first, miguel were doing the same too. to see how much you liked getting a little taste of your medicine,

“i’m annoying? you’re annoying, muñeca. let’s see how you like this one. bam” he snickers to himself as he reposts another tiktok of a guy complaining about his girlfriend’s petty behavior,

however the thing is? you don’t actually give a shit,

you’ve been training far too long to deal with this thanks to the shitty men in your previous relationship. so him being petty as you? doesn’t bother you a bit. if anything, it makes it more fun,

it irks him to know that you’re not responding to any of it. if he’s being honest, he wants you to spam him with texts of you being clingy and telling him to stop doing all that extra shit on tiktok. he misses that. he misses you

he swears he’s not letting himself go at that time. he wants you to be the one who apologizes or at least hit him back up. even glen had told him before to wait a couple more days and see if you would actually text him instead the other way around.

but five days without talking to his muñeca and sleeping by her side? yeah, he’s had it

miguel swipes through his contact list and hit your number before dialing it, pacing back and forth in his room.

“hello?” you answer after a few rings,

“i give up. I can’t. i don’t like this, i don’t like you being far from me” he blurts out without saying hello back, head shaking. “you need to come back, muñeca, please. i’m fucking losing it here”

“so you admit defeat, huh?” you smirk on the other line,

“yes. i am folding. i am on my knees.” he admits, running through a hand through his hair out of frustrations. “i’ll say anything you want to hear, whatever it is”

with a chuckle, you decide to tease him more. “post me more on your socials, maybe i think about it”

“i did!” he cries out, “three on my stories and three of your pics on the feed. and I’m rarely active on instagram, you know that!”

oh, he’s serious about this. “aw that’s so sweet, o’hara”

he wide eyed, not liking that name. “o’hara? who the fuck—no o’hara here! i am not o’hara to you, princesa!”

you laugh at how adorable he sounds when he gets upset over you call him by his last name,

you do miss him. miss him so much you can’t even think straight any more. and you hate having this little argument with him, it takes too much of you and his time. sleeping alone doesn’t sound so good anymore, it’s better with hin around.

“get over here, miggy”

he grins at your sudden invitation, grabbing his car keys off the table before rushing out of his room, nearly tripping over the carpet floor as he plucks his jacket from the couch. couple of the guys are all sat in the living room, eyes darting to his.

“woah, easy there pal. going somewhere?” beck raises an eyebrow at his best friend’s clumsy antics,

miguel slips on his shoes and put his signature snapback on

“heading over to my girl’s. won’t be back till tomorrow. bye.”with a cheeky grin, he fist bumps beck who looks at him funny before walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

carlos pops a beer can open, plopping onto the empty space of the sofa.

“you guys see that right? him being fucking whipped?”

[softzindagi]

Some of my thoughts on maxton hall and why i loved it so much:

- im so glad that they didnt have james being a dickbag and kissing other girls after he met ruby

- the contrast of james and ruby’s families, the polar opposite in fathers. I love how they still had james and lydia be each other’s rocks in such a crappy situation when they have no one else, even if their relationship isn’t the best. The dichotomy of their relationship to ruby’s and ember’s? things can go wrong but they are sisters who love each other deeply.

-i loved the very pride and prejudice esque scenes of ruby dressing james down, and every time he deserved to be told off but it still makes ruby feel guilty afterwards. there’s a moral compass of ruby that james hated at first but it humbles him? Chefs kiss its so fucking good. He betters himself just like darcy and the change is seen even by his parents.

- the scene of ruby telling james off in the oxford course, its a pivotal scene because everything she says digs at things he knows. Young Beaufort wasnt his idea, it was Lydia’s and he’s taking credit and charge of it. He feels bad, he’s forced into it, but it’s the “you go through life representing wealth to which you have contributed absolutely nothing? With so much money, there’s no need for your own ideas.” Ruby has no idea how hard that actually hits home, and you can see Lydia take a step back mentally and yeah she agrees. The rest of it, how people will only like him for his money and not himself, that also hits so close. We see how Cyril laughs inspite of James’ pain, Alister is impressed by Ruby’s dress down but no one goes after James like a true friend would. As the series goes on you see how Alister and James grow closer as he becomes a better person, you see the care and concern because they’re in similar places but Alister isn’t as proud or arrogant as James is. I really love how by the end of the series, you have James and Alister confiding in each other.

- the scene on the lacrosse field, the way she apologizes and he is arrogant but decides to be nice because he is curious, and finds out that he does like her. She humbles him and makes him want to do better, she’s not the enemy and he kinda respects her for it. I also think, he’s never had anyone genuinely apologize to him, because he’s never had anyone wrong him but his own family. The apology, it’s a catalyst for him to let go of this resentment he has for her, in the truth she dug up in him.

- i am very happy that they have the good and the bad with ruby’s parents. The guilt that Ruby feels and the way her father is not happy that she is “wasting” her money on saving for his lift. There’s care there, but it’s hard nonetheless, those are big emotions to have years after an accident like he experienced.

- piggy backing off of that, the pivotal scene of James saving Ruby from the pool, that even though he didn’t know why she didnt come up but didnt hesitate to jump in? CHEFS KISS! The scene after of her confiding in him, him being so gentle and careful and being honest with percy, that he’s in over his head but he likes ruby, he wants to help her and has helped her. Oof just so fucking good!

- the way they keep telling each other that they should go back to never knowing each other, but every time fail because they’re meant to collide now, they MATTER to each other now

- i just really am glad they had him apologize for the shitty way his father was to her. That he was embarrassed by himself and his father. It was excruciating to have her get humiliated by his father. He’s only experienced it within his own family, but having it happen to Ruby? that changed things.

- they fucking nailed the cute scenes between them. The dancing in the victorian clothes, the chasing pigeons, the planning and setting up of the gala? Hell yeah!

- The whole fourth episode was chef’s kiss, no notes just purely good storytelling

More thoughts later but this is what i’ve got rn after rewatching the show for the third time

[astrolynnworld]

stress reliever

pairing: chris x reader

summary: the baby is taking a toll on the readers mental health so chris decides to be her stress reliever

warnings: smut! pregnant reader, mental health, sadness, stress, smut, language, dom chris, reassurance, praise, love, romance

a/n: love me a request

word count: 1,127

life sucks so much lately. everything is a nuisance

i feel like my decisions aren’t mine anymore, everything i do revolves around this baby.

and i can’t help but feel like that’s never gonna change.. because isn’t that what having a kid is like?

putting them first above you at all times because you want them to push for more than you ever could?

it’s all so stressful. i wouldn’t even know the first thing about being a mother, yet i have 4 months until i officially become one.

i can’t even do the things i used to enjoy anymore. all i do is eat, sleep, feel sick, and linger around the house

chris tries his best to keep me active and motivated but nothing has been working

i feel like he can tell that i’ve been so down lately

———————————————————————

“baby come on let’s go for a walk” chris begs

“i don’t want too. i want to stay in bed” i reply

“come on, you’ve been in bed all day. let’s go outside” he responds back

“chris it’s fine, the day is almost over. we don’t need to be outside doing absolutely nothing.” i snap then retract

chris climbs into bed with me

“baby what’s wrong.. honestly” he starts up

i sigh trying to hold back my tears, “i just feel like im not ready to be a mother”

“why would you ever think that baby?” he says softly

“how am i supposed to take care of our baby girl when i can barely take care of myself? i have NOTHING going for myself chris.” i start the sentence to my mini rant

“how will she ever look up to her failure of a mother? the mother with a shitty job, no car, and can’t even make anything of herself” i say starting to cry at this point

“i’m NOT ready to bring a child into my world. im going to be a TERRIBLE mother chris. don’t you see that?” i ask rhetorically while resting my face in my hands

chris grabs my chin, “y/n..”

“don’t chris.” i say

“look at me y/n”

i look up to a soft kind glare plastered on chris’ face

he starts wiping my tears away, “you’re the most beautiful, kindest, honest, loving, hard working woman i know”

“there is not a doubt in my mind that you’re going to be an amazing and incredible mother” he continues

“you’re not afraid speak your mind, you’re so independent, you don’t let any obstacle overcome who you are, and you’re always down for a good challenge”

i let out a soft smile

“i’d be LUCKY if our daughter was anything like you. i’d rather nothing more.”

“do you really mean that?” i ask

“you think our daughter should come out anything like me” he says while laughing

“no..” i chuckle back

“exactly. you don’t see what i see but of course you’re the perfect role model for our daughter, you’re an amazing person y/n. and i know you’re going to be an amazing mother.” he responds back in a smile

i calm down and give chris a hug

“im so grateful that i have you by my side doing this with me” i say as i hug him tighter

i pull away and give him a kiss

“i love you so much y/n” he says before giving me another kiss

then another one..

and another one…

“christopher.” i laugh

“come on” he smiles as he flips me on my back, “your lips are so soft” he dives back into another kiss

he starts kissing down my neck

“chris.. you don’t have to do this” i say as i put up a little resistance

“shh baby, just let me show you how amazing you are” he responds

i nod my head bring my neck up for another kiss on the lips. to which he fulfills

he keeps kissing me as he slides me out of my pants and underwear.

“fuck your pussy is so pretty baby.” he says while rubbing my clit

i let out a slight moan at the warm hand rubbing my juices in

“so wet for me baby” he says as he lifts his hand to taste my juices

“you make me so hard baby”

“chris please..” i whine

“please what baby” he responds

“please fuck me”

“dont need to ask me twice” he chuckles as he whips out his cock

he starts teasing the outside of my pussy with his head

causing me to arch my back into the sheets

“fuck you’re so hot baby. how bad do you want it”

“so bad, please please please put it in baby” i beg

he slides his cock in slowly and i whimper at the feeling of his member filling my hole

“fuck chris. i forget how big you are” i whisper in a whine

he bends his head to meet a kiss on my lips as he starts to slide in and out

“you’re so perfect for me baby, don’t ever forget that.” he says through grunts

“you’re mine. only mine” he continues

i continue to let the praise wash over me as he pounds inside me

“i want you to say it for me baby. say that you’re mine” he says while picking up the pace

“im yours chris” i whimper

“say that you’re my pretty little girl” he demands

“im your pretty little girl chris only yours” i continue to whine

“yes baby. say that you’re an good girl” he continues

“i’m such a good gir- fuck. i’m the best girl”

“yes keep saying it baby, i want to hear you louder” he groans

“i’m a good girl chris. i’m such a good girl. i’m only your good girl. i’m a good girl.” i continue as i feel my orgasm overtake my stomach

chris’ pace quickens as he feels my pussy clench around him

“ooh fuck chris. don’t stop.” i beg him as i ride my high out

“i’m gonna cum too baby” chris cries

“yes baby cum in me. fill me up” i moan out to him

he throws his head up and lets out a loud exhale from his mouth as he releases his all into me

“oh my go- fuck.” says chris

i start chuckling

“what’s so funny” he says as he starts looking down at me

“nothing. i just love you so much” i reply

“well i love you more baby. i hope you never have to question my love for you”

he pulls out of me and helps me up so we can wipe me down and put my clothes on

“i hope that took all your worries and stress away princess” he says as he gives me a quick kiss on the forehead

———————————————————��———

a/n- i don’t know if i’m tagging right but @sturnioloenthusiast @littlebookworm803 <3

[fuckmyskywalker]

🕯️🧺 w anakin? plz? 🥺❤️

Prompt: 🕯️ "You weren’t supposed to hear that.” | 🧺 Stepcest. — Anakin Skywalker.

CW: 18+, smut!. stepcest, dub-con/non-con (reader is drunk and under other substances, they don't explicitly say yes but they don't say no either so). Anakin is quite violent in here, and mean, and a bitch. Dirty talk, Oral sex (m), struggling with feelings, Anakin is an idiot tbh but he is my filthy, pervert idiot. | Word count: 2.9k (...somebody kill me.)

a/n: This is so disgustingly delicious I couldn't help myself, sorry. It was supposed to be a short drabble but ended up being almost 3k of pure filth.

His feet tap the rug of the living room anxiously; Anakin knows he should stay away from all this, lock himself in his bedroom, and jack off before bed. 

But as usual, his thoughts are even more complicated than that, he is caught between a situation that he isn’t sure has a positive outcome or even one for that matter. It’s the same conflict he has been going through ever since his wonderful mother had the great idea to marry your awesome dad who treated her as she deserved and welcomed Anakin as his son. But that wasn’t the problem.

It was you.

Anakin wanted you, so bad it burned his skin and chained his heart to a cold wall of self-restraint. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept repeating to himself every night he heard you in the adjacent room, moaning softly under your own caresses and all he could do was rub his uncomfortable erection to at least ease some of the yearning. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept whispering in the shower, closing his eyes to not see his hands squeezing your bottle of shampoo and consuming his sanity in the sweet scent of strawberry shortcake, relishing in the calmness your characteristic smell brings him. This is wrong, or at least that’s what he kept saying in the solitude of the obscure living room, waiting for you to come back from whatever fucking party you decided to sneak out that night.

It was easier to mask his desires and sinful lusts for you under a coat of anger. Always snapping at you, yelling, pushing you away. Anakin found that nasty attitude as an effective coping mechanism. For a while. You suddenly stopped talking to him, searching for his friendship or a simple common ground so you two could be in the same room without screaming and throwing insults at each other until either his mother or your father had to step in.

Neither of them tried to interfere unless things got heavily verbal and one time, physical. They both concluded it was only the edge of getting used to this new dynamic. You and Anakin just need more time to grow accustomed to each other’s presence, that’s it. Plus, Shmi didn’t feel entitled to scold you, and your father was never good at dealing with “women’s emotions”.

Deep down, Anakin was feeling guilty, and he, much like your father, wasn't good at dealing with others’ emotions, less alone his. He never tried to apologize either, which perhaps was why he was doing this. Aside from that repetitive statement of “this is wrong”, he tries to swallow his guilt and add to the mix a hint of “this is how I show my worry for her”. Which, if being brutally honest, was a pretty shitty way of doing so. Glancing at the digital clock on the fireplace, his anxious tapping gets stronger, it is almost 3:30 am. He hesitates, should he call you? Would you even pick up the phone? Should he just drop this whole act off and go to bed? Anakin feels too tired to even masturbate, or too angry, it doesn’t matter. The thoughts and “what ifs” begin to drown him, and if there is something that the unstable bastard is, is an overthinker. 

As luck would have it, his head snaps up when he hears the front door click open softly, followed by a muffled giggle. He stands up slowly, careful not to make a single noise. Are you alone? He hopes you are. The idea of seeing you with someone else twists his stomach with jealousy, quickly followed by that familiar wave of guilt. He has no right over you, that is a fact, and yet he forces himself to look over it, using the poor, sick excuse of being your stepbrother to worry about you; Even if his worry is translated into being a bitch, spying your every movement, and fucking his fist to the thought of you. 

He sees you stumbling through the front door, clicking the latch with what appears to be shaky fingers. Anakin remains silent as he scoots closer to you, resting on the frame of the arch that leads from the living room to the hallway that connects with the front door and the kitchen. You fail to notice his presence, too busy struggling to keep both feet on the floor as your heels hang from your right hand and your purse on your left. The tiniest bit of relief travels through his veins, at least you are alone. You walk past Anakin, but he doesn’t let you wander more than three steps. 

“Had a fun time? He asks in a sarcastic, dry tone. Cold blue eyes scan you up and down unashamedly, taking notice of how revealing and tight your outfit looks. 

With a loud gasp you turn around in a split second, your eyes widen and your mouth contorts into an expression of shock and drunken panic, Anakin predicts your scream and sprints towards you clasping a hand over your mouth and pushing you against the nearest wall. If he was upset before now he is fuming. “Shut the fuck up” He whispers against your face, his hot breath fanning over your nose. Up close Anakin notices how your eyes are droopy, puffy, and red. “If you wake them up I won’t save your ass”

You try to push him away but to no avail, Anakin is stronger than you, and your drunken state completely eats up your stability. Your head shakes side to side trying to remove his hand from your mouth but it only makes him push it harder until your lips begin to feel numb. “Where were you?” He asks, towering right in front of you in a frightening yet… arousing way. “And what the fuck is that outfit?” 

It’s rather ironic how your stepbrother keeps interrogating you but also takes away your ability to talk— You let go of your heels that fall to the wood floor with a muted sound, trying to push him away with your palm against his chest. 

Which apparently infuriates Anakin further. “Keep your hands off me, who knows where they’ve been” He hisses and slaps your hand away and pins it to your side with frustrated force.  “Were you with someone?” Anakin hisses, so close to your face you can see how deep his eyes are. You never recall they were such a pretty shade of blue. 

You shake your head at his last question, the only verbal indication you can give. His shoulders seem to relax the tiniest bit just to return to his usual tense shape. “Don’t fucking lie to me” He warns you and spits your name in a venomous way that should hurt your feelings and bring tears to your eyes. You shake your head again this time more desperately, this is the closest he had ever been to you ever since your father married his mother and it’s borderline scary. “You smell like a damn distillery, fucking disgusting” 

Instead of pushing him again, you raise your knee to hit his hip, your goal was his crotch but you missed by a lot. Anakin grunts in pain and lets go of your mouth for a second letting you take a heavy, desperate breath. Your body feels dizzy and sweaty and it’s all because of him. The altercation only lasts a few seconds and you don’t even reach the first stair before Anakin yanks your hair and slams your body back to a wall.

“Let go of me—” You whine with little conviction. “Get the fuck off Anakin I—” Your voice isn’t a plea, it’s an irritated complaint that makes you focus on everything else besides the burning ache that is beginning to form in between your legs at the tussle between your stepsibling. You expect his hand to clasp over your mouth again and the little self-consciousness left in your mind decides to bite his palm if he does so—

But instead, his lips crash over yours messily, punching all the air from your lungs. Your body reacts faster than your mind and the first thought that swirls in your hazed head is: His tongue tastes like heaven. Anakin quietly grunts at the strong flavor of liqueur and cheap cigarettes that fills his senses, pushing his hips forward basically rubbing his half-hard cock against your hip. Using his grip on your hair he yanks your head upwards so his lips can attack your jaw and neck, rapt in your heavy panting. Anakin’s knee finds a comfortable spot between your thighs, rubbing the sharp bone over against your needy core. Your body jolts slightly and you mewl into the cold air of the staircase hallway. You want to touch him, run your hands through his hair, cup his beautiful face, embrace this sick, prohibited feeling— but the emotional grip he was on you is doing its job. You can’t seem to find the strength to move a single muscle, melting into a wordless puddle for the person who you were supposed to hate.

Anakin’s knee picks up an acceptable pace forcing you to move your hips involuntarily to relieve some of the ache. You couldn’t remember when was the last time you were this wet, and even if you wanted to— it would’ve been impossible. He leaves wet, lewd kisses over your neck before sucking and biting your skin, ravishing you as if you were his prey, and perhaps you were. Anakin’s hand which isn’t gripping at your hair so hard your scalp is burning, squeezes your hip with the same brutal, appealing force. 

“You don’t have any idea how bad I want you” Anakin breathes against your neck, his voice lingering with that dangerous edge, mixed with what appears to be compassion, but not for you, for himself.— or even emotion. “You get under my damn skin, you make me lose my damn mind” His white teeth are like a threat, sinking into every inch of skin available, marking you. 

To care? You don’t have it in you. Probably not even if you were sober. Your mind struggles to come up with a reply, the ocean you are swimming in has everything except guilt, which was burning Anakin’s soul. “I know…” You whispered weakly, pushing your hips forwards and biting your lip to choke a moan at how good it felt to be humping your stepbrother’s knee. “I heard you jacking last month— you moaned my name” It was a miracle you could even build the sentence together, your voice was slurred and broken, but Anakin understood every word.

He curses under his breath, and the surprising sight of his flushed, red cheeks seems to break your drunk trance for a moment. Anakin hides his face in your shoulder, resting his forehead on the muscle. “You weren’t supposed to hear that” He mutters, it feels humiliating, but the simple act of unintentional humiliation makes his cock twitch inside his grey sweats. 

“I did”

“Shut up”

“I liked it”

Anakin’s head snaps upwards, meeting your half-lidded eyes. He wants to believe you. The doubt flies around his head: He is not used to having what he wants— Why would you be the exception? Is this his chance to be greedy and take the only thing he has been craving for months now? Is this how Eve felt when the Devil offered her the forbidden fruit? 

Are you his forbidden fruit?

Is this the way out from Eden?

It was too much. 

Lowering his knee he glares at your discontented groan, placing both hands on your shoulders and forcing you to kneel. The intention is clear, and it doesn’t take you long to pick it up. Your shaky hands fumble with the little bow on his swears but Anakin just pushes them away, muttering something about ‘how stupidly drunk you are you can’t even do something for yourself’. What is also not a surprise, is the lack of underwear— but what it is— is his cock. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of it, completely hard right in front of your face. Swallowing, you allow him to guide the tip to your open, awaiting mouth. The first touch is like touching heaven, or hell— Your warm tongue swirls over the sensitive head tasting the salty precum, wondering what could you do to be able to savor him again. Anakin places his large hand on the back of your head fighting the urge to push you all the way in. He is trying to be nice, at least a little. Although, it seems like you have other plans; He is bigger than other guys you’ve seen, not massive but certainly above average. Perhaps big enough that you can see the outline on your lower stomach if he fucks you. Sliding a couple more inches inside your wet mouth you roll your eyes at the way Anakin’s breath hitches and how his hips push forwards the slightest bit.

The wonderful weight of his cock on your tongue is hypnotizing, and you waste no time bobbing your head back and forth, sliding a bit more of his cock after a couple of minutes. Raising your eyes, you find Anakin staring directly at you, his blue irises dilated and almost glowing in a predatory manner. 

His breathless chuckle catches you off guard. “You must be a slut if you suck cock this good.” It’s a double-edged compliment, either way, it feels good. You whine around his dick making him hiss in pleasure, biting his lower lip to keep the noises down. He can only imagine the catastrophic consequences if his mother (or your father) wakes up and finds his son’s cock buried in his stepsibling’s throat. “Fuck— I wish I could have you on your knees all day…” 

You try to nod at the idea, it sounds great— it fucking does. The struggle for air starts to hit you, and the lustful haze replaces the alcohol haze in your head and bloodstream— You are no longer drunk in cheap tequila, vodka, and whatever the fuck was in that igloo; no, you are drunk in his cock, his scent, his voice, in him. 

You decide to go big, because well, you already are home. Deepthroating him rewards you with a delightful moan, not loud enough to bounce over the walls of the first floor but enough for you to pick it up and moan as an aftereffect. Your throat contracts around his hard cock and Anakin is a dead man. The little restraint he had left breaks and the next thing you feel is your head banging against the wall to keep you in place as he fucks your face. His hips thrust on and on, your gags and chokes sobs only spurring him further. Your nails dig into his thighs and his balls graze against your chin with every frantic snap. Anakin is painting, sweating, sinning. 

If this was the forbidden fruit, could he blame Eve at all? 

Your tears, your smeared makeup, the drool that trickles down your chin is like a work of art. Anakin thinks you look beautiful, but it isn’t enough. The muted pounding of the back of your skull against the wall shouldn’t be as erotic as you register it, forcing your mouth open, letting him use you, ruin you, own you in the nastiest way possible. 

Anakin’s release comes without warning. His cock twitches inside your mouth and some thick, hot ropes of cum slide down your throat before he moved out of the warm paradise that your mouth was to paint your face with his cum. He exhales shakily, stroking the base to make sure everything is out and on you. The thick globe of cum that slides down your cheek reaches the corner of your lips and you stick your tongue to catch it, making Anakin squeeze his eyes close and wipe the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

The silence is everything but tense, it even feels comforting; as if all the words that you two wanted to scream were now said— in such a carnal, animalistic way. Anakin’s hands are gentle as he helps you get up, giving you the time you need to calm yourself and settle the unsteadiness of your legs. His arm wraps itself around your waist, trying so badly not to look at your cum-stained face in order to not get hard again. 

“Sorry,” He whispers as the familiar sensation of guilt makes itself present and commences to weigh his shoulders down. His nose scratches your shoulder, and every negative thought begins to swirl inside his mind. 

“Don’t be” You reply, trying to smile but you are too tired to even do it.

The clock ticks 4:12 am.

“Is it wrong if I say I love you?” Anakin’s voice is searing with regret, what has he done? The martyrdom rings inside his chest, constricting it and echoing like big, golden bells. 

“I don’t know” Your answer is sincere. You blink some tears away, wiping some of his lukewarm cum away from your face, it’s beginning to dry up. “But I love you too, so, if it’s wrong…”

He knows what you are implying. 

The clock ticks 4:16 am when he helps you undress and wipes your face with a makeup remover wipe. Anakin helps you get dressed, noticing your pajama top was an old t-shirt that belongs to him, a piece of clothing he simply imagined he lost in the washer machine. His lips are soft when he tucks you in bed. You smile at him tiredly, kissing him back.

No more words were needed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when your boyfriend is a red flag.

AN: ft. bestfriend! Dreamies.

Mark Lee

Mark probably doesn't say much about your boyfriend because he doesn't want to judge your taste on men. BUT when you came to him crying because of a petty fight with your boyfriend, he'll perceived your boyfriend as a red flag. "Seriously you can do better," he said to you. Mark's convinced that you don't deserve to forgive your boyfriend because one time is enough for him to see the signs that he's a bad boyfriend to you. After that, his perception to your bf is that he's a shitty one.

Huang Renjun

Renjun has a hunch that your boyfriend is those 'nice but really manipulative' type of guys. But he just wanted to wait for you to notice it. And as if his hunch was right, you suddenly rant to Renjun one time about your boyfriend. It wasn't a fight but it's more of how his behavior suddenly shifted all of the sudden. You don't know what to do so you ran to your best friend, "I think you should break up with him." Renjun casually said, knowing that what you just said prove to him that your bf is a huge red flag. 

Lee Jeno

"He doesn't deserve you," Jeno told you as he comforts you. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend but you ended up disappointed when he didn't acknowledge your efforts. You didn't have the heart to confront him that's why you ended up crying to your best friend instead. Jeno is ANGRY at your boyfriend because how can be such an insecure loser that couldn't appreciate your effort to him? He thinks that he's such an asshole for doing so. But right now, what's important is you, so Jeno tried to comfort you as much as possible. :<

Lee Donghyuck

Haechan lost count how many times you cried because of your shitty boyfriend. From the start, it was so obvious that he was walking red flag, but you being so in love with him, ignored all of it. You would cry to your best friend but assure him that at the end of the day, you and your boyfriend will make up. "Aren't you tired from crying?" Haechan asks bluntly. You were surprised with your best friend's words but he just wanted to be honest and blunt with you this time. He'll end up telling you that you should just break up with him. 

Na Jaemin

"Is it my fault? I really don't know Jaemin," you let out a sigh. Jaemin hums quietly. "He's wrong, it's not your fault." your best friend answered with all honesty. Deep inside, he was like a volcano ready to explode. He's mad with your boyfriend who gaslighted you that it was your fault that he cheated. What a jerk! Jaemin thinks. He looks at you who's trying to hold back your tears. "Break up with him, he cheated on you yn! Isn't that enough for you to leave him?" but he was only answered with your cry, so Jaemin only rolled his eyes as he pats your shoulder lightly. 

Zhong Chenle

You and Chenle were having a small talk outside the club. You two were a bit drunk and you overshared at how you and your boyfriend fought before you went to the club. "Honestly when I first met him, he's kind of an asshole you know?" Chenle pointed out. "Really? Why didn't you told me?" you asked. "Just want you to discover it for yourself." he explained. You only let out a sigh, thinking if it wasn't for your best friend pointing it out for you, you would've missed how huge of a red flag your boyfriend was. 

Park Jisung

"Yn honestly stop it," Jisung started after you calmed down. It was one am and you're in your best friend's dorm room, crying because you found out your boyfriend was cheating on you AGAIN. It's been going on for so long but you love him that you always forgive him. "Do you know how much it hurts me to see you cry because of that asshole?" Jisung asked with an angry tone. "I'm sorry Ji," was the only thing you could say before tears stream down again. Jisung rubs your back gently, thinking that it's better to comfort you first. 

[general-fanfiction]

Foreign Exchanges. (Anthony Vaughn x Reader.)

Summary: Moving school in the middle of the year is never easy. Let alone from an entirely different country. Despite Y/N trying to garner the least amount of attention possible, she still manages to catch the eye of a certain brunette.

Word Count: 1.5k

Gif Not Mine . Requests are open!

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: My first Ant fic and I’m debating making this a series but you’ll have to let me know what you think! Anyway just a short one to start us off but there’ll be more soon. Don’t forget requests are open!

“I’d like you all to offer a warm welcome to our new student Y/N Y/L/N, she’s moved here all the way from the UK! So let’s show her some of that Hartley spirit.” The teacher, who introduced herself as Jojo, announces to the class. All of them staring at me with blank stares. “Go ahead and say a few words.”

She nudges my shoulder gently before I can decline the offer. Encouraging smile on her face. There are no smiles from my classmates however, only bored faces who couldn’t be less interested in my arrival. For which I’m grateful. I’d seen this school on the news prior to my enrolment, I know these students are brutal. I mean, a sex map? Dad wasn’t too happy about sending me here though he didn’t really have a choice, no other schools were admitting students this late into the term.

“Um hi, I’m Y/N. It’s good to be here I guess.”

“Does anybody have any questions for Y/N?” Jojo offers, attempting to find a way for the class to get to me.

Numerous hands raise and I let out a groan internally. It’s bad enough that I’m stood at the front of the classroom like a new shiny toy but to now be subject to whatever ridiculous questions these teens can come up with is a new form of torture. One that I am really not looking forward to.

Jojo points to her first student, allowing them to be the first to ask. “Why don’t you have a proper British accent?” The girl seems genuinely curious, eyes focused on me as she combs her fingers through her orange hair. Stickers adorn her face along with colourful eyeshadow to match her bright outfit. She has a gentle aura surrounding her, which makes me relieved as I realise her question wasn’t meant in malice and more so pure interest. Maybe these kids won’t be so bad?

“Um, I think the accent you’re think of is the Queen’s English. There isn’t many people that talk like that really, maybe a few down south but I grew up in the North East. None of us talk posh.” I tell her, watching as she seems to take notes as I speak.

“Thank you Quinni, Spider what about you?” Jojo asks, pointing to the tall blonde that is hunched over at the back of the class.

His eyes flicker up to me, giving me the once over though he doesn’t seem too impressed by my presence.

“Yeah, what is it with you and all the other poms having bad teeth?” The boy pipes up, I notice the two boys next to him laugh. Though the one in the baggy outfit makes eye contact with me and a flash of guilt appears on his face.

“I don’t have bad teeth actually. Nobody I know does and to be perfectly honest, that stereotype is deeply rooted in classism and while the UK faces a major cost of living and wealth gap crisis, I don’t think it’s funny to joke about things like that. Do you?” I retort, causing h the pink haired girl and her friend to applaud my mini speech. Both offering cheers.

“Okay any more questions that aren’t going to cause arguments?” Jojo asks, a few hands lowering as they don’t want to get in trouble. “Yes, Amerie?”

“Do you miss home?”

“Yeah, yeah I really miss it.” I start, thinking of everything that I had to leave behind. I know this was the best decision for my family, but I do hold a slight resentment towards being here. “Don’t get me wrong, Sydney’s great and all, but I miss my friends, my house, my pets, I even miss the shitty pub from down the street.”

“Thank you Y/N, I feel like we’ve got to know you a little bit more now, so feel free to take a seat and we’ll get started.”

The only open seat is next to the girl that Jojo called Amerie. Smiling as I take my place, I open my notebook and begin to doodle swirls and other patterns across the page. Focusing on that rather than the subject being taught. It’s some form of sex education by the sounds of it. However, it seems very outdated and heteronormative. Nothing worth listening to anyway.

Upon hearing the bell ring, I begin to pack away my things and watch as a few students mutter things towards Amerie. “Map bitch.” “Cunt.” and “Crazy bitch.” Just to name a few. I realise that may be the reason she had nobody sat next to her and figure it may be best to avoid her if I want to stay under everybody’s radar.

Finding my locker, I begin to turn the lock with great difficulty. Back home, the numbers simply connect and the door clicks open, that doesn’t seem to be the case here though. Fiddling with the dial, I hear the bell signal the beginning of the next class and I huff, annoyed that I’m having this much trouble with a stupid locker.

As the hallways clears out, I continue to twist and pull at the lock. Bag dumped on the floor as I try with all my strength to pry the door open. With no such luck, I throw a quick kick to the locker beneath mine, leaving a dent in the door slightly. Slumping with my back again the metal, I find myself face to face with the boy in the baggy outfit.

Not previously noticing how cute he was, dark hair hidden beneath a beanie, a couple of curls escaping. Boyish grin plastered across his face and piercing brown eyes staring directly at me. I won’t even try to deny that Australia has one up on the Uk in terms of boys, they’re just so much cuter over here.

“What did the locker do to you?” He jokes, taking the slip of paper with the locker code out of my hand.

“Bloody thing won’t open.” I mumble, stepping out of the way as he demonstrates how to open it with ease. My cheeks tinged pink as I fear my outburst may have been unnecessary.

“I thought you Brits were supposed to be good at containing your emotions anyway.” He leans against the locker beside mine, watching me as I stuff countless books into the small space. Normally this would make me uncomfortable, yet there’s there’s something about him that makes me feel warm and calm.

“Nah we love our fair share of violence.” I tell him, smiling as I do so, remembering the amount of fights that used to take place on my estate daily. Providing free entertainment for all the neighbours. “We’re polite, but piss us off and we’ll knock you into next week.”

He laughs, folding his arms across his chest as I close the locker door. His eyes gaze over me as I turn to face him properly. Noticing the small cross necklace hanging from his neck, I can’t help but imagine what it would look like against his bare skin.

“You religious?” I ask, nodding towards the chain.

“Nah, I’m Ant.” He brushes off my question and tucks the necklace beneath his shirt. Clearly a touchy subject that perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up. So instead I attempt to lighten the mood.

“Ant?” The word escapes my mouth as a slight giggle, unable to hide the amusement his name brings. “And your mate’s called Spider?”

“Yeah, stupid right?” He chuckles, playing with the straps of his bag. Almost as if he’s nervous. “We’ve been best mates our entire lives. My real name’s Anthony but nobody calls me that. Same with Spider, his name’s Spencer. Kids started to call us Ant and Spider when we were like six, guess it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.”

Picking up my bag, I throw it over my shoulder. Figuring I should probably head to my next class despite being extremely late already.

“Hey, about Spider.” Ant reaches for my arm, clearly sensing that I’m about to leave. “I just wanted to apologise, he can be a bit of a dick but he’s a nice guy deep down.”

My arm tingles where he’s touching it, feeling the slightest of move of his fingers. As though my nerves are on fire. Suddenly hypersensitive to any little movement he makes. I know I shouldn’t be feeling things this intensely, hell, I’ve just met the guy. Yet he sparks an excitement in me that I haven’t felt in a while.

“Honestly it’s sound. You don’t need to apologise.” I assure him, offering a smile, I see his shoulders relax. “I can handle a prick like him any day.”

“Yeah you certainly shot him down quick.”

As he removes his hand from my arm, I’m quick to begin walking away. Cheesy grin on my face as I recall the interaction in my head despite it only happening seconds ago. I feel dizzy with excitement, my feet feel like they’re walking on clouds and I almost miss the shout from behind me as I go to turn the corner.

“Hey, do you wanna get high?”

[eddiezpaghetti]

It has come to my attention that SOME OF YOU who read my last Byler post remain UNCONVINCED. So I'm gonna tack onto it this:

I'm older than fucking God and air, and I've been out and proud since 2007. Yes, I know what homophobia is, and yes, I know what queerbaiting is. I know about Supernatural and Teen Wolf and Sherlock and blahdyblahdyblah. No new ground is being covered here. I thought I made that clear in the original post, but, clearly, I did not.

I am aware of queerbaiting and homophobia, and I'm still wholeheartedly certain in Byler being canon anyway.

Okay, so there are three types of relationship I want to discuss when it comes to queerbaiting. They're all, like, "queer relationships that could have happened, but didn't".

First off, queer-coding. This isn't really a thing so much anymore, but it still crops up every once in a while. I'd argue it probably happens most with male-male relationships in family shows these days. First example that comes to mind is Mr. Smiley and Mr. Frowny from Steven Universe. You can't make a relationship canon because some shitty overhead bastard overhead said no, so you get as close as you can without compromising the show. Can't make someone gay? Well, now their comedy routine is a blatant allegory for a romantic relationship. Boom-shaka-laka. This is something I don't see being a problem with regards to Stranger Things, but I want it to be there as contrast, a demonstration of one of many things queerbaiting is not. However, one could argue that, thus far, Will Byers is, canonically, queer-coded. It's pretty fucking heavily implied in the show, and the creators have confirmed it, and you're gonna be able to see it if you're not FUCKING BLIND, but word of god is not technically canon which means that interviews don't technically make something canon, blahdyblahdyblahdyblah, technicalities, Robin has been explicitly stated in the text to be queer while Will has, thus far, not, outside of good ol' Show-Don't-Tell. Of course, anyone with two brain cells to rub together can tell that that's going to change by the end of Season 5, but, hey, for what it's worth, I'm throwing this out there.

Alrighty, Thingamajingama Number Two: "Oops, I accidentally made the greatest love story known to man." AKA, a genuine, honest-to-goodness mistake. Unfortunately, we do live in a heteronormative society. Sometimes people who don't think about being gay much write a friendship that's incredibly compelling and don't even consider the possibility that it could have been read as romantic. Something something Top Gun something. This is, again, not queerbaiting. This is Steddie, this is Ronance, this is Elmax, this is your favorite flavor of non-canon ship this week, this is not Byler. The creators know DAMN well what they're doing. They've talked about it. We know this. Nothing new here.

Which brings us to the topic of discussion here. Actual queerbaiting. This usually starts out as an "accidental greatest love story", and then reacts to fan response. And when I say "reacts", I mean like a goddamn chemical reaction. Like bleach and ammonia, bitch. It's noxious and it's gonna kick your fucking ass without mercy. This is when a creator is like, "Hey, let's get our queer audience invested, but we're not actually going to give them what they want because our straight audience isn't here for that/we personally think it's gross/we don't give enough of a shit to want to research a goddamn thing to write a real gay character," blah blah blah whatever excuse they want to come up with this time.

And when you think "queerbaiting", I want you to think "bullying". Because that's what it is. It's lucrative bullying, like beating us up and taking our lunch money, but it's bullying all the same. And it's a real goddamn thing, even if people misuse the word a lot, often when they mean one of the two above, sometimes when they mean "bury your gays", which is another homophobic thing entirely that I'm not going to get into here. Queerbaiting is the thing we're focused on, and it's real, and it's bullying. And here's the reason I want you to think of it as bullying:

They

Think

It's

Funny.

They are actively making fun of us.

That's why Dean had the "Cas, get out of my ass," line in Supernatural. It's why the "Do you like boys?" line happened in Teen Wolf. It's why "Lie with me, Watson," happened in the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies. Because "It's just a joke, mate." "It was just a prank, bro." "You didn't really think it would happen, did you?" "You should see your face."

So here's probably the biggest reason I don't think it's specifically queerbaiting in this specific instance of Will Byers and Mike Wheeler.

Stranger Things has never, not once, made a gay joke. Ever.

Every single time queerness comes up, it's dead serious.

Lonnie calls Will a fag, and the show is not at all reluctant to show what a goddamn horrible person he is. And when Hopper latches onto that, it's not as "Hahah, is he gay, though?" It's because he's trying to determine a potential motive for Will's disappearance, and even if someone had interpreted it as a joke, Joyce immediately has a line that functions as snapping her fingers in front of the audience's face and yelling "FOCUS" when she says "He's MISSING." Basically outright saying "This isn't funny!"

Troy calls him a fairy, along with targeting Lucas and Dustin for their skin color and disability respectively, and Mike gets damn near murderous. Troy is portrayed as a goddamn monster and the show portrays it as justice when El makes him piss his pants and later breaks his arm.

Steve calls Jonathan "queer" as a slur and gets the shit beat out of him for it.

Billy's father is revealed to be homophobic and abusive in the same breath.

Mike says "It's not my fault you don't like girls!" and we're shown how devastated Will is and Mike immediately follows him to beg for forgiveness.

There is a joke in Robin's coming-out scene, but it's not at Robin's expense. It's at Steve's. Specifically for being heteronormative.

Jonathan has multiple scenes where he's trying so hard to tell Will that he's always going to love him as he is, whether he's gay or not, without pressuring him to come out before he's ready.

Even when there's a little bit of ribbing at Robin's expense, it's always because she's an awkward nerd who's nervous around pretty girls, just the same as Lucas and Dustin are teased when they both first develop crushes on Max, and even then, even then, it always comes as a package deal where they make fun of Steve's girl problems at the same time.

Stranger Things is an emphatically pro-gay show. It may not be the core point of the show the way it is in, say, Our Flag Means Death, but there is nothing less than respect for its queer characters. Its queer characters are always taken completely seriously. No one is making fun of us. They never have. That's why I have serious doubts that this is queerbaiting. It would come completely out of left field for the bullying to start in Stranger Things' final season.

So it's not at all likely to be queerbaiting because queerness is taken completely seriously. The creators have talked about Will's queerness, at least, so it's not an accident. And queer-coding would be silly to expect from this show when it's already on its final season. Like, what is Netflix gonna do? Cancel it? Not to mention all the explicit queerness that's in there already. And no one's gonna "What about the children?" a show that's had sex scenes in it since the first season.

There's no fakeout here. It's gonna happen. Breathe.