#i wonder how many people i’ll piss off

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

day 1 of trying to piss off the sonic fandom so i either get blacklisted or blocked by as many people as possible:

we have all poked sonadow fans for bastardizing the canon characters into uwu smol bean gays. but you know which ship fanbase does it worse and more obnoxiously?

espilver. yeah. sonadow still has a poetic foil and people have seen fandub footage of sa2 at LEAST, if not the original game. we all know their story, but how many espilver fans have played rivals 2, the origin of the ship? alternatively, how many SILVER fans are gonna woobify the guy into a chibi bastardization?

when you tell someone you don’t ship sonadow, it’s whatever. the second an espio or silver ship other than espilver shows up, it’s like 9/11 because there are always whiny people jamming their 2 cents in. if you think i’m making that up, or if you haven’t experienced it yourself, you are LUCKY.

fun fact: i used to love espilver, it was a genuine favourite of mine for years. then i saw how brainrottingly stupid the fandom made it, and it’s now such a minefield to navigate that i’ve given up on the whole concept entirely. i’m sure there are good fans, but i’m in no mood to be dumpster diving.

anyways, if you’re reading this post as an espilver fan and feel hurt or mad or want to comment something to convince me otherwise, BLOCK ME! PLEASE! I AM ACTIVELY TRYING TO CLEANSE MY CIRCLE!!! TODAY I BLOCKED ALMOST 600 FOLLOWERS JUST TO BE LEFT ALONE WITH ONLY CHILL GUYS!

note: i’m not attacking anyone as a person, i’m attacking the general fanon woobification phenomenon. this isn’t about a particular creator or their work, this is about the ship as a whole. people can make whatever they want, and in the same vein, i can call it fucking stupid. if you’re offended or think i’m an asshole though, even if it’s just for doing this and you’re not an espilver fan, block me too. please. i’m actively trying to get rid of people and this helps

[pynkfairyheart]

Hii I was wondering if you could do an collage au armin arlert oneshot, imagine or Drabble (totally up to you) where armin is a very popular soccer player at the college and since he’s so popular that causes him not have as much time for his gf so she catches an attitude and ignores him and he fixes it ifykyk. I was thinking more of like a dominant or switch armin for this yk?

pairings: soccer!player Armin x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, a lil angsty, orgasm denial, car sex

a/n: i love this request, armin is just so ૮꒰ྀི˶˃ ⌓ ˂˶꒱ྀིა

Ms. Attitude

“I’m sorry, baby. I promise I’ll make it up later. I love you, bye” The monotone beep of the phone soon followed his hurried voice informing you he ended the call before you could even breathe.

“Yep, I love you too” You mumbled. Glossy eyes scanning the hair and makeup you spent hours on.

This was the second time Armin failed to show up for your date.

Soccer season was picking up and with Armin being the captain you understood you'd no longer be able to spend as much time due to practice, but the frequent outings with his team members were becoming infuriating.

Was it that hard for him to plan around your date nights?

With a deep breath, you soaked a cotton pad in makeup remover. Too exhausted to even take pictures before the excess liquid on the pad mixed with your stray tears. It was rare for you to cry over a guy, even rarer to cry over Armin, but the disappointment was turning into frustration that was too overbearing to contain.

What made things worse is that you felt it wasn't fair to Armin you were having these feelings.

You knew what you were entering into when you said yes to being his girlfriend. He told you his goals from the start; become captain, graduate with a 4.0, play professionally, and ultimately make it to the World Cup.

Of course, you knew achieving all he wanted would take time, and you wholeheartedly supported him.

To maintain a healthy relationship you two had a system. Once a week, you would set aside time for a date. It didn't need to be elaborate or fancy; the simple goal was for you to spend time alone. Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

Something Armin didn’t take into account with the new season was the influx of freshmen on the team. This meant lots of bonding time with the team and less time with you.

°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was a week before you saw Armin. Granted it wasn't on purpose and you just happened to catch a glimpse of him from across the crowded room, but you saw him nonetheless.

The events on how you approached him are a little cloudy, your actions encouraged by the shots you took and your anger. The only true remembrance was Sasha’s attempt to make you stay and the snickers from certain teammates who could predict what was about to happen.

“What the actual fuck, Armin.” You huffed

“Baby? What’s wrong?” His smile disappearing at the pout settled onto your face

You were baffled, was he actually serious?

“What’s wrong is that I haven't seen you in three weeks all because of your little bonding outings. Which this does not seem like bonding” A mixture of frustration and hurt fueling your emotions as you motioned to the party

“I know how this looks, baby but I swear we just got caught up after practice, sit with us I promise to make it up to you- Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Nothing pissed Armin off more than when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yes! You've said the same thing every week Armin, you're like a fucking broken record and it's actually pissing me off”

“I'm pissing you off?” The indifferent tone of his voice and minuscule smirk on his face should have told you to stop and think but you were just too upset to think.

“Isn't that what I just said” Your iris slightly disappearing as you rolled your eyes once again.

He’d been waiting for it.

Many people knew Armin to be the passionate sweetheart he was. It was rare to see him upset. That emotion reserved for whenever his team got a foul and occasionally whenever you gave him attitude.

Before you could even register what he was doing he grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the party

That little eye roll ended up with you in the backseat of his car, legs on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

“Minniee, pleaseee” You whined, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at the pleasure building in your lower stomach

“You wanted my attention right? So stop fucking complaining and hold it like I said” His hips snapping forward as he buried himself deep inside you with every thrust.

You were certain stars were blurring your vision. He was just stretching you out so well, the girth and the angle he was at leaving no spot along your walls untouched with how deep he was.

Just looking and hearing the whines that slipped passed your lips made him want to fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you.

Just looking at you had him on the brink of a second orgasm.

You just looked so pretty to him. Bouncing breasts no longer confined by the tight shirt you wore, hardened nipples glossy from his previous sucking. Don't even get him started with your teary eyes and glossy lips.

What really got him though was the way your puffy cunt surrounded him. Folds so warm and wet with your slick and his cum that your walls failed to contain.

Armin however didn’t reward bad behavior, especially yours. Maybe he’d let you cum if you whined enough, but who knows. For now, he’d continue to use you for his own pleasure as he pounded into you.

“What's wrong princess? Isn't this what you wanted? Caught an attitude just to get fucked like a slut” He hissed, blonde strands sticking to his forehead as he increased his pace.

“I’m sorry, Minnie, please. I just missed you” You spoke through your broken moans and cries

Leaning down he encaptured your lips, his pace slowing as the guilt seeped into him, oh how he wanted nothing but to go back and spend that time with you.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make time for us, I mean it this time” His voice coming out in a whisper as he kissed along your neck

“Y-yeah? “ Speech broken by the newfound pleasure as he applied pressure to your clit

“Mhm, as long as you stop with that fucking attitude” Within that second the soft and caring Armin was gone and now replaced with the Armin whose only goal was to make you feel pleasure

You were so close, every rock of his hips hitting your spot so perfectly you were seeing stars and begging to cum but he kept denying you over and over. His responses consisting of “Be my good girl and hold it” or “You want it so badly don’t you?” a condescending pout resting on his pink lips every time

It was only when he grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs up against your chest that he allowed you to cum, pace becoming sloppy as he watched you cream around him, basking in the way every contraction of your cunt added to the milky ring around his base.

The feeling of you clenching around him, the sight of your closed eyes and slightly agape mouth as you came, it was too much for him to handle as spurts of his milky cum forced its way into your stuffed cunt.

“That's my girl” He mumbled. Smirking at the cum spilling from your hole the moment he pulled out

It was only when you felt his hands spreading your legs apart and his tongue plunging into you that you opened your eyes.

“Armin” You shrieked

“Mmm, relax, baby. I've got three weeks' worth of orgasms to get from you.”

[myriadeyed]

“It’s obviously valid to be bugkin but you also can’t just expect people to get over it when they have a genuine fear!”

I’m afraid of dogs.

Dogs put me extremely on edge. I avoid them while outside and if one’s in a room with me I’ll try to leave or else start to panic. Especially medium-sized and larger breeds. Mere images of dogs may not give me a panic attack, I will admit that, it's not a phobia. But if you want to talk hypocrisy, if you're opening up that discussion:

Hey dog therians, dog otherhearted folks and clinical cynanthropes, what if everywhere you went, the unspoken attitude of the alterhuman community was—

Don’t post dog photos or talk about being a dog in the main alterhuman tags. Don’t talk about your shifts, your instincts, or your kind in the main tags. If you’re a CZ, don’t talk so openly about your biological reality. It’s extremely triggering for people with cynophobia. The idea of physically being or becoming a dog grosses them out to briefly think about, so try not to discuss your literal existence. If you must, at least trigger tag yourself with #tw dogs or #tw dog mention so people can stay safe by censoring things that will hurt their mental health. It’s okay if you’re dogkin but in my DNI I'm going to write something like, don’t follow me if your blog hosts too many graphic close-up images of dogs doing dog things, even if you censor them. Don’t add dog photos to open posts in the alterhuman tags, you have no idea who might be sent into a panic attack by images of yourself so you should play it safe and only put them on your own posts. And stop being so offended by people who comment on posts about pet dogs or dog facts saying they want to bleach their eyes or kill it with fire, they can’t help having a phobia.

Not great, is it? Fortunately, and I do genuinely mean that, this is a sentiment you will only see once, on this post, completely satirically. Except it’s just a real sentiment for bug therians/hearted and other invertebrate alterhumans. Of course what I said was satire. But if it pissed you off when you thought it might not be, please, contemplate on that reaction, really spend some time on it.

Also, if you're wondering what I mean by "other invertebrate alterhumans", (and I'm sorry for how heated I got when I was writing this part last night even after editing it down)

You know I’m a bug zoanthrope too, not just a bird? And see above if you're wondering why I never said shit about it, just said I was a centipede therian and even then said I was just questioning and didn't really talk much about it. Am I allowed to talk about it without tagging it #tw body horror, even though I obviously don’t fucking find my own body to be horror? Can I talk about it without tagging it #tw bugs like just the very thing that I am needs to be censored for people's well-being? I'm sorry if I come across judgmental. Offline I constantly interact with people saying they’re a nature lover but centipedes are the only thing on Earth that they still hate. And I have to come online knowing that any of those people could be bloggers in the alterhuman tags and it’s my responsibility to tiptoe around them. “Because centipedes are scary and disgusting.” Because I’m scary and disgusting. My brain is not capable of hearing a difference and I can’t change that. It is so much my reality that it's the same emotional mix of anger and anxiety and hurt that would be (has been, lol) triggered by someone ranting about how much they hate Jews or trans people to me.

[oneforthemunny]

summerween |modern!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie is itching to decorate for halloween. the only problem is, it's still summertime.

still on my fall shit, and still on my fluff shit. very fluffy and sweet for these two (i love them). short little fall ficlet. all fluff. language, that's really it. just fluff.

“It’s not even August.” You stare him down from your place behind the counter, arms crossed your white tank top, adding emphasis to your statement. It was hot, late July hot, too hot for Halloween decorations. 

“Getting started early this year, sweetheart.” Eddie grinned, flashing a dazzling smile that had your chest swelling, cheeks tingling with warm rushes of emotion. “Never too early to get started.” 

“This feels like too early.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Despite your protests and snide comments of how many weeks away October was, you still helped Eddie clean. Vacuum and mop, wipe down everything the way you always did before decorating. 

“Kids aren’t even back in school, and you want to decorate?” You lifted a brow, cringing at the thud of the totes collecting a cloud of dust in the air from the dusty storage unit they’d been homed in since last November. 

“Yeah, c’mon, it’s the most wonderful time of the year.” Eddie trilled dramatically, tearing the lid off the first box. A plethora of black and orange and purple figurines poked out, a waxy, plasticky scent following from the stored heat. 

“Besides, everyone’s started putting stuff out. I keep seeing it on Instagram, people are finding all this cool shit. I wanna get what we have out, and then I was thinking we could go shopping tonight. Or tomorrow, just dependin’ on when we get done.” Eddie rambled excitedly, pulling out the tangled garland, eyes meeting yours with a sickly sweet pleading gaze. 

You rolled your eyes, snatching the garland in dramatic irritation, sitting down on the couch to unravel it. “We’re putting all of this out today? What if I had other plans today?” You challenged, lifting a brow. You didn’t have any, of course, Eddie had already asked you that yesterday when he’d planned this.

“I’ll help you do them, baby. I promise. We don’t have to go shopping tomorrow if you don’t want to.” Eddie hummed sweetly, brown eyes rounding in the most adorable way towards you. “I just thought we’d go to Fort Wayne tomorrow. Take you shopping over there.” 

Your lips pursed, too stubborn to relent so easily, but melting under his affection the way you always did. “There will be a million fuckin’ kids there tomorrow, Ed, school starts back in a week.” 

“We can go first thing in the morning.” Eddie countered, proudly setting a plush ghost pillow next to the others. “Before it gets insane. I’ll wake up early for you.” He winked playfully. 

Your lips rolled, fighting back a grin, chin ducking towards the garland. “Yeah, right.” You muttered. “You’ll sleep ‘til noon.” 

“Nope. I’ll set twenty five alarms if I have to.” Eddie declared, unwrapping the glass figure carefully, wadding the paper back up. “You have my full consent to dump cold water on me if I don’t wake up after the third snooze. That’s what Wayne always did, and it always worked.” 

You snorted lightly, facade breaking and a grin taking over your scowl. “Cold water? Like in a Disney Channel movie?” You lifted a brow, a snarky tease still in your tone. 

Eddie grinned, dimples creasing deeply. “Yeah, I was a heavy sleeper. ‘Specially after I hit puberty, ya know? I think it was my seventh or eighth grade summer, I started playing Neverwinter Nights and would stay up all night. Then when school started, I didn’t stop, and I’d stay up the whole night and Wayne would be so pissed at me in the morning.” He shook his head lightly. 

“One morning I wouldn’t get up, and I thought he’d finally just left me, was letting me stay home, and he came back, like, five minutes later with this popcorn bowl of ice water and dumped it on me.” Eddie snorted in laughter. 

You barked out a laugh, an edge to your giggle that had Eddie blushing, his own laughter bubbling thick in his chest. “So that’s how he got you to get up?” 

“Worked like a charm.” Eddie nodded, a half grin pulling at his lips. 

“Good to know.” You lifted your brow, lips curled in a devious little grin. Eddie’s knees weakened at the sight. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time you sleep through my cousin’s gender reveal.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes lightly. “Baby, that was- c’mon, even you agreed that it was insane that they had it at ten in the morning. Who has a party that early?” 

“Parents, Eddie.” You huffed. “Adults.” 

“Alright.” Eddie shook his head, trying to diffuse a fight he could sense was looming. “Hey, look, I forgot you got this.” He pulled the bright pink ceramic ghost out of the tub. 

“Oh, I forgot about that.” Your face lit up, pulling the final knot loose of the garland’s chords. “Put her on the shelf- no, on the other side, Eddie.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance, nodding harshly towards the empty shelf on the TV stand. 

Eddie flicked on the switch, the dim bulb fluttering to life before sticking it on the shelf, proudly. Normally, he thought pink decor- especially Halloween- killed the vibe. It was supposed to be scary and dark and gloomy and moody, not pastel. Until he met you. Then pastel pinks, oranges, purples, all made their way into his dark and gorey decor. Happy, cute ghosts with his grim reapers and skulls. 

“Did you get this at Target?” Eddie pushed the ghost so it was center, spine straightening as he stood. 

“Mm, I think so.” You hummed, hooking your foot on the edge of the tote, sliding it closer to you. “Maybe Home Goods.” 

“I think they have that huge Home Goods in Fort Wayne, don’t they? We could go there tomorrow. Look for more.” Eddie slid beside you, throwing a hand over your waist, squeezing your hip gently just to feel you squirm. His lips pressed to your jaw, soft and pillowy, leaving a burning heat of excitement in their wake. 

“Fine,” You relented, melting into his affection, letting him pull you into him victoriously. “But I want to go to Anthropologie too. I want to see if they have those cute witch glasses I saw.” 

“Yeah, we can do that. We’ll hit the mall first then Home Goods.” Eddie muttered, nose nuzzling against your cheek. 

“I think they’d be so cute on the bar cart, don’t you?” You hummed, nodding towards the tiny gold bar cart in the corner of the kitchen. 

A new edition to the apartment. Eddie had searched high and low, finally found the one you wanted on Facebook Market and drove all the way to Muncie to get it. You had been so excited when he showed it to you, beaming in a way that was rare but felt exhilarating to be the reason for it. Right now, it was donning a tequila theme, one you saw on Pinterest and had to match. 

“Yeah that would be. You know, Gareth used to date this girl, Ayesha, and she always got this wine called Witches Brew. It had a cool lookin’ label on it, that would be cool to add to it too.” Eddie tucked his chin down to look at you. 

“Ooh, that would be cool.” Your eyes lit up, just enough to have Eddie’s chest swelling with pride. “Isn’t there a Total Wine near the exit? We can stop and look there.” 

“Sounds like a date to me, baby.” Eddie squeezed you closer to his chest, fingers barely brushing your sides so you squirmed. He paused for a moment. “Are you sure you’re ok with me putting this up? I-I can wait if you really don’t want me to, I just, I’m just excited ya know-” 

“-I know.” You turned, shifting in his arms to look at him. “It’s fine.” You sighed dramatically, a teasing in your tone. 

“At least if we get it up now, we can see what we need to add. Get it before it sells out.” You muttered, spinning the tiny fake spell book in your hands. Eddie grinned, eyes shining with excitement. 

“But,” You lifted a finger, face dropping back to something serious. “Not outside yet. Only inside.” You pointed your nail at him threateningly. “Don’t want the neighbors to think we’re total freaks.” Eddie snorted, arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer to his chest so you were chest to chest, nearly nose to nose. “Please, a little late for that, babe.” Eddie snorted loudly. “They already know we're total freaks, what do you mean? They’ve definitely heard us being total freaks before- oof!” You cut him off, smacking him with a bat shaped pillow.

[actuallysaiyan]

We Can Do Whatever You Want To Do(Ishida Uryu x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, handjob, talk about virginity, kissing, alcohol, semi-public sex, Uryu and Reader are in University word count: 1.3k pairings: Uryu Ishida x Fem!Reader summary: you and Uryu are in the same classes in university and you thought at first his arrogance and attitude pissed you off, but it turns you on. taglist: @beneathstarryskies. @seireiteihellbutterfly @misty-angerose. @yeowangies a/n: My first time writing Uryu, so I hope it's good <3

You met him when you were in your first year of university. Whispers of his academic excellence and many scholarships due to his achievements follow him around, though he doesn’t show any kind of real reaction to it. You found yourself so intrigued by Uryu.

After a few months of being in the same classes as him and trying to get to know him, you find out that he tends to keep to himself. And  Uryu doesn’t really bother to make too many friends. You’ve noticed some people coming to visit him from time to time, but the relationships he has with them seem deep rooted in something you can’t quite understand.

Even as time continues on, you find yourself way too curious about him. What kind of thing does he  do in his spare time? What kind of interests does he have outside of science and medicine? Did he have a love interest? Has he ever had a girlfriend?

Everything comes to a head when you and Uryu are at the same party. He’s keeping to himself in the corner, talking a little bit to a few people here and there that are in the same class as both of you. You take a drink from your beer and you head over to him.

“Hmm?” he barely acknowledges you, which makes you even more turned on.

“You’re Ishida-san, correct?” you ask him, your stomach doing flips.

He smirks at you, “Yes. Good to know you can recognize your classmates' names.”

That comment has your blood  boiling. How could he say something so rude to you like this? You roll your eyes and finish off your beer. Despite the way he acts, he holds himself with an air of someone who knows it all. Something about this suggests he’s not too lucky in the love and intimacy department. Meaning….he’s probably a virgin despite being in his early twenties.

The next time you meet up with him, it’s at the end of your class for the day. You make your way over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns around, towering over you and sports that same smirk as he always does.

“Yes? What is it?”

His tone is just driving you insane, “I was going to ask you to help explain something to me, but honestly if you just want to act like a self-centered jerk,, nevermind.”

Students are walking past you and him, making it seem like there’s just no care in the world for something like this. It’s like you and him aren’t even a part of this student body right now. There’s this tension that grows around the two of you. He takes your hand and pulls you just a little closer. Your heart flutters and your stomach does a flip. Why does he keep making you feel like this? He’s just an asshole classmate.

“Listen, if you really want my help, I’ll help. Just ask nicely.” His tone is authoritative and it makes you want to slap him.

“F-fine…can you help me with today’s lecture?”

He smirks again, “Of course. It was rather easy.”

The urge to push him off you and to just give up on your plan was strong. Yet you followed him into an empty classroom. He sits at the teacher’s desk, opening up his notebook. You close the door and without him noticing, you lock it as well.

Innocently as you can, you make your way up to him. When he looks at you, you flutter your eyelashes flirtatiously. He falters for  a moment,  freezing completely. He’s wondering why you’ve changed your attitude towards him completely, but he finds it endearing that you’re trying to be kinder to him.

What you don’t realize is that you’ve been invading his every thought since that night at the party. He loves the way you take his attitude with a grain of salt. He keeps up these walls for a reason, though he’s ready to tear  down some of his walls to show you his real self.

Suddenly, you’re backing him into the corner. His eyes widen beneath his glasses, his cheeks reddening at the way you’re so close to him. Your actions are so bold and brazen..

“Uryu,” you purr softly in his ear. “You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

His heart skips a beat, “H-huh?”

You laugh, “I know you heard me. Answer the damn question.”

His mouth gets dry as his brain short-circuits. Uryu thought he had really hidden that aspect of his life so well. How could you tell just by being in class with him and the few interactions here and there that he was a virgin? How were you so clever?

He’s about to answer when your lips come crashing down onto his. Your hand drags down his chest to his waist, then down below his belt. You squeeze softly the growing bulge. He moans against your lips. Slowly, you begin palming him through his jeans until he’s rock hard.

“Let me have a little fun, hm? I bet you’ve never even had a handjob before!”

Your words sting and hit him right in the heart. .It was true, he was a virgin and he had never  even kissed before. You were taking a lot of his firsts. He can barely believe his own eyes when you unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. His cock is throbbing and twitching. There’s a precum stain on his underwear now.

“Awhh look at that, you have to be  a virgin.” You tease him as you pull down his underwear.

His cock slaps against his lower abdomen as you release it from the cotton confines of his briefs. The thick precum smears against his button-up shirt. You smirk when you gently graze his cock with just your fingertips and he lets out a whimper.

“Oh you’re gonna blow your load so fast, aren’t you?” You taunt him.

He shakes his head, “N-no. Shut up!”

You wrap your fingers around the throbbing length. He’s shuddering as you begin to stroke him. You make sure to go slow. You aren’t convinced that he won’t just pop within seconds. 

“Look at you, trembling and shaking. What a pathetic little virgin you are,”

Your words are turning him on more than he’d like to admit. It’s making him angrier but also his cock keeps throbbing every time you call him a virgin. He’d love to lose his virginity, but he’s so wrapped up in his studies and academic career that he forgets to make meaningful relationships. He just thought he would end up having to marry someone first to lose his virginity.

“Shut up,” he spits at you. “At least—ahhh fuck— ‘least I’m not failing.”

You squeeze his cock a little harder, “I’m not failing. You really think I’m failing? Let me tell you something,”

You lean in closer, and you start to stroke him faster. Your other hand comes down to massage his balls and he knows he’s done for now. His eyes roll back in his head and his knees begin to buckle. It’s all too much.

“The only reason I asked for your help today was because I wanted to jerk off your cock. You got that?”

He can’t even reply. You’ve rendered him into a blubbering and whimpering mess. His glasses are all fogged up that he can barely make out the blur that’s your fist stroking his cock. You tug on his balls ever so gently and that’s all it takes for him to fall off the edge.

“Fuck! Fuck I—I’m cumming!”

His hips begin to buck up into your hand, spurts of thick cum beginning to coat your fist and the bottom of your shirt. You smirk as you help him through his high. Then you slow down your pace, but never stopping it.

“Listen to me,” you begin. “If you wanna fuck this pussy, you’re going to have to be a lot nicer to me. Got it?”

He nods his head, “Yes, yes…I’ll be nicer.”

And that’s how you ended up with Uryu’s balls in the palm of your hand.

[lookingfts]

Thanks to @crookedchildpanda for the prompt including JB's glasses! I am a huge sucker for that look (and so is Kate).

She’s done just fine resisting Anthony Bridgerton so far.

Well, maybe not just fine. Maybe that’s an overstatement when she still loses her breath at that dark flash in his eyes that comes out when she’s competing with him over something stupid. When she spends hours thinking up new insults, new criticisms, new weaknesses to needle at to piss him off the way he regularly pisses her off. When she lays in bed and thinks about his eyes, his jaw, his mouth, the annoyingly perfect cut of his face and his body as she touches herself.

But she’ll never actually fuck him, she swears. Kate will not be a notch on the bedpost of London’s most notorious trust fund slut. She absolutely refuses, no matter how many times he looks at her a little too long or brushes a hand over the small of her back or murmurs in her ear and she’s instantly horny in a way that feels like a medical condition.

In the end, it’s a complete surprise. The thing that does her in.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Kate asks extremely impolitely over the table at brunch. Anthony hasn’t even sat down yet, and all of their friends – well, her friends, his family – whip around to look at her. Whoops. Her ribbing is typically a little more…discreet than that.

He makes a show of looking down at his chest. “A jumper?”

The jumper is sexier than it should be, stretched tight over his absurd muscles, but that’s not what she means. “No, your…” He raises an eyebrow, and Kate feels heat rush to her cheeks. “Never mind, you look stupid, is all.”

It’s lame and uncreative, as far as insults go, and Kate buries her face in the menu even though she gets the same thing every time they come here. Anthony slides in across from her, and- fuck.

Does she have a glasses thing? It feels like maybe she has a glasses thing. Or maybe it’s just an Anthony-in-glasses thing, because she’s never noticed it before, and suddenly she is more attracted to him than she’s ever been to anyone in her life and fuck that, honestly, it’s so unfair.

The following ninety minutes are pure torture, as Anthony keeps looking at her and Kate steadfastly pretends not to notice, and his foot bumps against hers in a way that’s probably accidental, given their positions, but sends a sharp jolt through her nonetheless.

“I like the glasses,” Daphne says, tapping the corner of her brother’s frames as he tries to duck away. “They make you look smart.”

“They make me look old,” he protests, and Kate thinks a little hysterically about how not true that is. “But my contacts were on back order, so it’s this or be blind and walk into traffic.”

“There’s an option,” Kate says chipperly, attempting to regain some of her balance after her slip-up earlier. And Christ, that's a mistake. His eyes flash behind the glasses, and Kate thinks she has just discovered her own personal kryptonite.

She needs some air. In a performance that is probably unconvincing, but everyone else is too lost in conversation to notice, Kate pretends to feel her phone buzz and tugs it out of her pocket.

“It’s Edwina,” she says pointlessly. “I have to call her. I’ll be back.”

Her waffle lies half-eaten on the table as she strolls out of the restaurant and slumps against the wall, inhaling deeply. She will not blame herself for being an adult woman with a healthy sex drive, but she will blame herself for directing that sex drive toward fucking Anthony Bridgerton, of all people.

He’s kind awful. He’s smart arrogant and gentle condescending and he loves his family hooks up with too many women and almost certainly has some type of infection and he looks at her like he wants to take care of her conquer her.

Not for the first time, Kate wonders if she secretly wants to be conquered by him. Wonders if she could forgive herself for letting it happen.

“You’re off your game today.”

Kate jumps off the wall, her eyes snapping open. Anthony looks unbearably smug, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirks at her. “Yes, well, occasionally I do have better things to do than tear you apart, Anthony.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he hums, taking the smallest step toward her. She has a dozen ways to escape, knows Anthony would never actually pin her down, but she feels trapped anyway. Trapped by his gaze and the heat from his body and the shiver of arousal that travels slowly down her spine. “If I’d known the glasses would do something for you, I would have worn them ages ago.”

It should be taunting, but his voice is unexpectedly soft. Like he’s not teasing her. Like he means it. “Who says I care about your glasses?”

That would have worked better if she didn’t sound so shaky. Anthony leans toward her a little more, his confidence growing in small bursts, and this is humiliating. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s creaming her knickers over this man she wants hates so much.

Anthony swallows, his eyes trailing over her face, and all she feels is desire. In her blood, in his gaze. There’s nothing but a burning heat and a cautious, tentative hope. “I absolutely hate these glasses, Kate,” he says. “But I would wear them every day for the rest of my life if it made you tremble the way you’re trembling right now.”

And that’s the worst part of it all, isn’t it? He’s standing here, telling her that he would do it for her. That he would do anything to please her, to stoke her lust, to win her affection.

The worst, worst part is that he doesn’t need to do much of anything. Kate devotes ninety percent of her energy to keeping him at arm’s length, and it’s been a losing battle from the start.

Fuck it. She’ll forgive herself later. Or not.

Her lips are on his and however she expects him to respond, it is not to yank her against him on this public street and tangle his hand in her curls and lick into her open mouth until she moans. It’s not for his glasses to bump against her nose and for that to be some weird turn-on in itself. It’s not for him to literally fucking growl in his throat as he kisses her with mind-numbing intensity.

Kate is disoriented when he pulls away, her lungs burning from the lack of air, his large hands still taking up an insane amount of real estate on her waist. His glasses are slightly askew and really – that’s it. She’s filing an insanity plea. There is no other excuse for why she feels so dizzy, why the thought of going back to her waffle and forgetting all of this feels like madness.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his thumb stroking the soft skin peeking out from her top, his eyes blown out. “Tell me to go back inside or tell me to take you home. Just tell me.”

And it’s suddenly crystal clear that there’s only one option. She’s going to fuck this stupid man and make him keep his glasses on and it’s going to be the best shag of her life, regardless of what happens after. And she’ll regret it, or she won’t, because maybe he does actually want her this badly.

“Go back inside,” Kate breathes, and his shoulders slump, but he simply nods. “And pay for our meals. And tell everyone I have a family thing and you’re going to drive me home.”

Anthony grins, his eyes lighting up behind the glasses, and Kate thinks she might have been wrong before. That is her ultimate weakness. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

[doggone-devil]

How (Not) To Summon a Demon: Chapter 1

I’m attempting to write my first Hazbin Hotel fanfic. I don’t know how it’s going to go as I don’t normally write so much as I draw. I’m nervous but I’m also having fun with it so here’s the first chapter of my first fanfic titled “How (Not) To Summon a Demon”. Also, I’m writing this solo with no beta reader so sorry for typos, mistakes, etc. If you point them out, I’ll go back and fix them. Thank you!

Alastor x Reader

Warnings: demon rituals, stupid decisions, ghosts, paranormal activity

Feedback is welcomed! I might also move this to Ao3 depending on how well it does. 😊 Enjoy! 😊

Summoning rituals have been a pain in the ass for demons everywhere in Hell. Even lowly sinners with barely a sigil to their name could be summoned should a mortal find the right way. It was worse for those with higher power, demons who ruled over certain humanely aspects such as fertility, hearth, or revenge. Throughout the decades, as humanity build past the spiritual and focused more on science, less and less demons were being summoned. Now, the denizens of hell could roam peacefully, spending their miserable afterlives how they saw fit without the worry of being dragged topside.

That is, until one curious mortal just so happened to stumble upon such a book.

—

“Veronica, this is stupid!” you claim, cringing at the dust covered debris you were stepping over. For some god awful reason, you had decided to entertain your roommate and follow them into an abandoned house. Normally, old houses didn’t bother you. You were intrigued in the history, thinking about the people who might’ve lived in them before Mother Earth took them back. Yet this one in particular was just unnerving.

Nestled in one of the many bayous of south Louisiana, this old plantation looking home was wrapped in moss and vines, the swampland quite literally devouring the structure. The floors were barely holding your weight, groaning with every step you took forward as you tried to keep up with your very enthusiastic friend.

Veronica turned her flashlight at you, blinding you momentarily. “This isn’t stupid! It’s experimental!” she moved the light off you, using it to scan the room you were in, a bedroom on the second floor. It was filled with a bed, a dresser missing drawers, and a nightstand. The wallpaper was peeling and the light fixture had fallen years ago. You mindfully step over the glass.

“Just imagine what could be in here,” she spoke, examining the nightstand. “Not just the memories, but the potential of ghosts!”

“Ghosts,” you scoff. “The only thing here is trash, trash, and more trash.” You wonder why you even came. She thinks so, too, as she glares at you.

“You didn’t have to come you know,” she comments.

“And miss you pissing your pants? Fat chance,” you joke, making her smile. True, you were reluctant to come along when she had asked, you still felt reluctant, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying this even if just a little.

“Oh hey! Check this out!” You move over to where Veronica is hunched over. Just below the nightstand, tucked in between it and the bed frame, is a book. She brings it out and sits it on the bed, using her hand to wipe away the dust. The cover is old, leathered, and the markings on it are too faded to read.

“Maybe it’s a dirty novel,” you say, wiggling your brows at her. “You know, some chicks back in the day had to get off with those. They didn’t have internet like we do.”

“That’s just gross.”

“Honey, that’s truth.” You chuckle as she rolls her eyes, opening the book. The pages are worn but readable as she flips through them. You watch from over her shoulder, frowning at the contents. There’s pictures depicting people being beheaded, of demonic creatures drinking blood. It creeps you out.

“I think it’s a book on summoning,” Veronica says. “Look.” She points at one of the pages, a paragraph instructing on how to set up a circle. It then has some kind of image on the next page, a circle with a bunch of symbols that you can’t recognized. A cold shiver runs up your spine.

“I think we should put it back,” you state. It’s suddenly very cold in the room and you swear you can feel something watching you.

“Don’t be such a pussy!” Veronica closes the book and tucks it into her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Duh, I’m bringing it back with us!” She looks at you as if she didn’t just say the dumbest thing ever.

“Have you not watched horror movies?” you ask in disbelief. “Two dumb chicks find demon book in abandoned bayou home and then get slaughtered as sacrifices to Satan. Am I making any sense to you?”

“You make it sound like you believe it’s real.”

“No,” you defend, “I’m still a hardcore skeptic, but even I ain’t stupid enough to invite that shit into my home.” You turn to head towards the door, ready to leave this hell hole behind. “Put it back and let’s go.”

“Fine,” she sighs. You leave the bedroom and quickly make your way down the stairs, checking behind you to make sure she’s coming. When you confirm that she is, the two of you make your way out of the house and back to your car that’s parked a few feet away.

—

The ride back home is quiet and within minutes, your entering your shared apartment. You go to make your way to your kitchen when Veronica speeds past you to the living room. She’s quickly flittering around, grabbing spare candles and setting them up. You eye her with suspicion and groan when she pulls the book out of her bag.

“Veronica, you didn’t.”

“I did,” she giggles, tapping the seat next to her. You cross your arms over your chest.

“I am not participating in this,” you state, firm in your decision. You didn’t believe in ghosts or the paranormal, or even demons, but you’ve seen plenty of horror movies to know that this is how it starts. In no way were you going to be another victim in a paranormal mystery compilation.

“Please,” Veronica pouts, giving you the puppy eyes. You bite your bottom lip, trying to resist. She even goes as far as clasping her hands together, blinking up at you. You give in with a deep sign.

“Fine. But I’m waking you up if something comes into my room later tonight,” you declare. She nods in agreement as she moves to let you join her on the couch. You eye the book, then the candles. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Not a clue!” she answers. “But, the book has clear instructions. I just need three candles,” she pauses to point at the candles, “and two participants!”

“Well would you look at that,” you mock. It’s a coincidence, is all, as candles are in nearly every home and most households consist of two people.

“Stop being a party pooper and hand me that lighter.” You lean over the couch and grab the BIC, placing it in her open palm. She lights the candles one by one, then straightens up, suddenly looking serious. It takes effort not to laugh.

Veronica starts reading from the book, something about calling the corners and inviting those who wish to join as witnesses. You look around, waiting for something to happen, but so far, nothing does. She continues, beginning to speak something in what you guess is Latin. It sounds wrong as you remember your old high school Latin teacher being strict on pronunciation, but you don’t correct her. When she finishes, she claps her hand and looks expectantly to the empty space in front of her.

Nothing.

A minute passes.

Nothing.

“I don’t get it,” she sighs, slouching back into the couch. “I did everything it said to.”

“Have you thought that maybe it’s just not real?” you offer.

“Ok, but just once, I was hoping it was. I mean, look at the book! It’s so old and weird, I thought it could be legit, ya know?”

“Yeah, but sadly, we live in a place I like to call reality!” you say, using your hands to make a fake rainbow in the air. She huffs a laugh and sits back up, standing off the couch.

“Well, since a hot and sexy demon didn’t appear, how about I go grab us some food?” she asks, already going to grab your keys.

“Oh, pizza?”

“Pizza it is! I’ll be back in like, thirty minutes.”

“Cool, drive safe!” you call out as she leaves. Once it’s just you, you look back at the book, smiling at how silly it all was. Demon summoning. As if. You pick up the book and look at the Latin she had read. It was fuzzy and you’re only able to recall a few phrases. It’s less an incantation like you thought and more of further instructions. It tells the reader to place their finger once pricked on top of the signal and recite the summoning phrase.

You look at the front door then back at the book. It’s silly. You know for a fact demons aren’t real. This book was just some kind of occult hoax. So then, why did you want to give it a try?

Sighing, you reach into the drawer of the side table next to the couch, pulling out of the mini sewing kits you had for emergencies. You pull out a needle and prick your finger, wincing as a drop of blood pooled to the surface. You pick the book up with your other hand and press your finger down into the middle of the sigil. With a deep breath, you recite, “Daemon avaritiae, voluntatum et actuum, te voco. Veni et da mihi desideria mea.”

You close your eyes, waiting for something to happen. There’s just silence and still air. You can faintly hear the hum of the refrigerator. Your shoulders relax and you let out a nervous laugh. “Knew it,” you mumble to yourself, “just a stupid - .” You stop as your eyes stay fixated on the candles. The flames are flickering, raising higher then dropping back down, higher again, like they’re dancing. You feel the temperature drop, just like it did at that house.

“Ok, this isn’t funny,” you whisper, moving your legs to that they’re pulled up to your chest. You gasp when the flames go out, along with the electricity, submerging you into darkness.

“Oh, darling, I can ensure you I’m not laughing,” a voice deep responds and you scream, jumping off the couch. You can’t see anything, trying desperately not to trip over furniture. Of course an intruder decides to show up now when you were attempting to summon a demon.

“W-Whoever you are, I-I have a gun!” you shout, trying to sound tough but failing as your voice cracks and falters. You weren’t lying, you had a gun for just this occasion, but it was tucked safely away. In your bedroom. Where you were not. Great.

A deep chuckle rumbled in the darkness and you gulp, reaching around blindly to try and find purchase on anything. You felt your back press against something cold and felt behind you, relieved to find the wall. Now you just had to find a door, something to bring a barrier between you and whoever the fuck was in your house.

You’re searching for a knob when light suddenly fills the room, a figure stepping in. You scream, making the other person scream, too.

“The fuck is wrong with you!” Veronica shouts angrily, flipping on a light switch. You squint as light hits you. “Are you trying to scare me half to death?”

You run over to her, trying to push her out the door. “We have to go! There’s someone in here!” you warn her, pushing harder, but she won’t budge.

“Girl, what are you talking about? There’s no one here!” You turn to protest, to point at the man who had been talking mere seconds earlier, but she’s right. As you scan the room, there’s no one to be seen.

“No, no, no. He was just there. I was on the couch, doing the ritual, and he -“

“Wait, you actually tried it, too?” she asks but you ignore her.

“- he spoke behind me when the lights went off! He was, he was…,” you trail off, feeling frantic, panicked. Had you just imagined it all? Had you paranoid yourself that badly from the ritual that you hallucinated the whole thing?

Veronica called out your name, making you look at her. “I think you need to go lay down. You don’t look to good.” You nodded slowly, agreeing with her. You did feel tired.

“Y-Yeah, I‘ll just…go lie down.” She sat down the pizza and held your hand to your bedroom, making sure you made it to your bed before bidding you goodnight. Once the door was shut, you were left alone in your room. You looked around it, suddenly aware of the darkness creeping in around the edges. It unnerved you and you quickly turn on your lamp next to your bed. It fills in the empty spaces, bringing clarity as you took note of every little detail of your room. It eased your mind, being able to see everything.

You shoved the blankets back and crawled under them, exhaustion hitting your hard once your head laid on to the pillows. With a stifled yawn, you close your eyes and attempt to forget about the whole thing as you fall asleep.

Masterlist ; Ao3

[byeoltoyuki]

best mistake

↳ Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

❧ Genre : Fluff / colleagues to lovers / smut

❧ Warnings: oral (f)

❧ Words : +1,8k

❧ Summary : Many things could happen at a party.

“Look who’s here.” Hana pointed with her glass at someone across the room, her voice filled with venom. You could guess easily who just entered the room, her venom was always directed at one person, one person only, nevertheless you followed her gaze.

Hyunjin walked in, one hand in his pocket, the other roaming through his long hair, looking unfairly beautiful in his black, fancy suit. It was hard to believe that a man like him was actually a simple employee in a company instead of being a model. He had everything to succeed in modeling; the face, the look, the aura and definitely the attitude.

“Mind to tell me what he did this time to piss you off?” You asked genuinely curious. Hana was easy to anger, that was a well-known fact, but somehow with Hyunjin it was even worse. You let it slide for a while, guessing that she would eventually share it with you, but she didn’t. Her dislike only grew.

She huffed and averted her eyes. She emptied her glass of wine in one go before finally looking at you. “Honestly? There’s something about him that just bothers me. The way he talks, the way he behaves – he’s just not someone I can trust.”

“And have you seen how people throw themselves at his feet? It’s so annoying! But he enjoys it.” She added

Huh. That bad, you thought. You took a sip of your own wine and hid your smile in the glass. Clearly, Hana had a bad image of Hyunjin without knowing the real him.

People often misunderstood Hyunjin. Because of his looks; they either liked him, wanted him or envied him. Those who wanted him and didn’t get him, tended to start hating him and spreading rumors which, in your opinion, was unfair.

But you knew better. One year ago, at this same corporate party, you committed the best mistake, by hooking up with him.

Flashback

Those corporate parties were supposed to be a way to thank the employees for their hard work, for their loyalty. It was supposed to be a night of fun, of drinking, of dancing, of singing and strengthen the bonds between colleagues. You liked the idea. Not that you needed this particular party to get close to people, but people tended to act different when under influence of alcohol.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Hana. You heard some of your colleagues mentioning that this year they had improved their alcohol choices by adding cocktails – you were eager to find out.

But before you could even spot the said bar, Hwang Hyunjin appeared right in front of you, holding two glasses. Stunned with his presence, you stepped back, your hand on your chest. He, on the other hand, looked smug.

There was absolutely no reason for Hyunjin to talk to you. Yes, you were colleagues, you had been for a while, but you never really talked to each other. You would usually see him chatting with other women which never bothered you, in fact, you understood the appeal. You weren’t blind, the man was beautiful, not to say a piece of art. But you knew better than to get involved with pretty men.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Well shit, you thought. No wonder, people were so attracted to him. It was obviously not only because of his looks. His voice? The way he said ‘beautiful’, along with the smile – nobody could possibly resist his charms. You had a hard time too.

Instead of answering him, you studied him for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. Hyunjin wore a full beige suit, the sleeves of his jacket rolled, exposing his veiny forearms (was it your weakness? Maybe). More you stared at him and less you understood his intentions.

“What is it?” You finally asked, curious.

“Why? Am I not allowed to offer a drink to a beautiful lady?” He shook his head, disappointed and yet his mouth curved into a pretty smile, not looking so smug anymore. He shoved the two glasses before you. “Wine or champagne?”

This was definitely fishy. “What if I don’t drink?”

“I’d say you’re full of shit because I saw you drinking champagne earlier.”

Someone had definitely been watching you. You wondered how you missed it. “What a mouth you have, Hwang.”

Apparently, you calling him Hwang did something to him. His whole demeanor changed, going from all smiling and sunshine to wicked and dangerous. Were you impressed? A little.

Without minding your personal space, he leaned closer. Warm breath tickled your ear; your breath hitched in your throat as you waited for his next move. Was it you or you were about to get into unexpected yet very welcomed trouble?

“You have no idea what my mouth can do, pretty.”

Now, that escalated quickly. How did you go from being offered a drink to something more, you had no idea but you shivered at his words. Just like that, he pulled back as if he had simply made a joke.

“Champagne for you then.” He gave you the glass and clinked his glass with yours. He took a sip, completely unfazed with your lack of response. You? You simply stared at him, a little dumbfounded and maybe a little dazed too.

You didn’t want to stare at him for so long, but his words replayed in your mind and unwillingly you find yourself staring at his mouth. This, did not go unnoticed. Hyunjin licked his lips on purpose, watching as you inhaled sharply.

“Intrigued?” He asked playfully.

“Yeah.” You didn’t even try to deny. Were you bewitched? Absolutely.

Hyunjin seemed pleased with your honesty. “Want to find out?”

You certainly did.

Just like that, you found yourself in an empty hall, pressed against a wall. One leg thrown over Hyunjin’s shoulder, you were a moaning mess as he ravaged you. At any moment, someone could walk on you, but you couldn’t care less. Not when such a beautiful man was on his knees, doing a marvelous job with his tongue, with his mouth.

He hadn’t lied. He was so damn good with his mouth, knew exactly what he was doing, when to kiss, when to lick, when to suck. In a matter of minutes, he turned you into a mess, drowning in your pleasure.

“Fuck, Hwang,” You moaned louder than you wanted. You clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled against you.

He pulled back and sent you a glare that could have made you come just like that. His lips glistening with your juices, his eyes glowing with pure lust and hunger. What a sight. “I want to hear you.”

Bloody hell. You obeyed. Maybe because of the way he sounded or maybe because, deep inside, you did want someone to see just how good this man made you feel. You plunged your fingers into his hair, pushing his face back against your pussy. Less talk and more action.

“Better.” He obliged as he closed his mouth around your clit making you gasp loudly. You arched your back against the wall, trying to hold for your dear life.

Hyunjin showed you no mercy as he feasted on you; his every grunt of satisfaction, every flick of his tongue drawing you closer to your orgasm.

“Shit, I’m so close.” You whined, your thighs shaking wildly. You were grateful he was supporting your weight, grounding you in a way.

“Then, come, beautiful.” No matter how nice he sounded, it was an order. One, you had no problem to follow thanks to his sinful tongue. You cried out his name, your whole body shuddering uncontrollably as you came.

Hyunjin straightened up, back to your level. He studied you for a second, a proud smile on his face along with a look of pure fondness. You looked like a mess, but such a pretty mess. Lips swollen with all the kissing. Hair a mess with all the pulling. Just watching you, so dizzy, so consumed with your own pleasure, made him even harder.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He claimed your mouth, for a hungry and passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your pretty moans.

Back to present

You thought it would be a one-time thing. But it wasn’t. The very next day, Hyunjin came to your office with two cups of coffee and asked you out. One year later and you were still together.

You meet Hyunjin’s eyes across the room, he winked playfully at you, not caring that he wasn’t alone and that people would see it. Maybe it was time for them to find out about you two.

“Please, don’t fall for his tricks.” Hana, who also saw his wink, pleaded.

“Too late for that.” Yes, it was about time.

“What?”

You put your empty glass on the table and looked at Hana, feeling a tad guilty for hiding this important information from her. It wasn’t like you hid in on purpose, it just felt right at the moment. “He’s a sweet guy, Hana. Easily misunderstood. But give him a chance.” With that you started walking toward him. Toward the man that swept you off your feet. Not like it was hard. Hyunjin was truly the sweetest, most caring man you had ever met. He cared deeply and always showered you with love and attention. How could you not love him?

Hyunjin joined you halfway, smiling prettily at you.

“Hello, pretty lady.” He took your hand and planted a soft kiss on your knuckles. What a gentleman.

It made you laugh heartily. Of course, he would do something like that. “Hi, handsome.”

“Are you ready to make people talk?” He asked without letting go of your hand. Instead, he started rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. Another sweet and natural gesture that provoked butterflies in your stomach.

People would talk. You spotted from the corner of your eyes a group of colleagues; some looked surprised with your sudden display of affection, some looked appalled.

“I don’t give a damn.” You said, confident. You inched forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his locks.  “Let them talk.” And you kissed him, making him smile into the kiss.

“Such a troublemaker.”

“Me? And here I thought it was you!” You chuckled

Hyunjin flicked your nose. “Nope. Definitely you.”

“I think your friend is about to have a heart attack.” He added when he saw Hana’s pale face.

You glanced over your shoulder; he was right, Hana looked paler than earlier and you guessed you were the reason. You were in trouble, you knew it, but the explanation could wait for another time. Now, you wanted to fully concentrate on the beautiful, lovely man before you.

“And I think, I’m about to have a heart attack because of how lovely you look tonight.” Hyunjin admitted and leaned closer. “Can we leave? I don’t think I can control myself much longer.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “What am I going to do with you, Hwang?”

“Anything you want, darling.” And he kissed the corner of your lips.

“Then, I suggest we leave.”

[nerdygoth77]

Some of my favorite Porter Gage lines!

“Keep your irradiated ASS away from me” 

“Boss”  

“Piss me off and I’ll still kick your ass from here to the Atlantic.” 

“Sure was fun! Huh Boss?” 

“I ain’t got the brains for mazes” 

“How's it go? “This town ain't big enough for you and me?” Awh nevermind :(“ 

“Ain't no way people paid for this shit, I refuse to believe it.” 

“Who the hell's idea of fun was this shit?”

“Ever feel the tiniest bit hurt that the institute hasn’t tried to replace you with a synth? I mean c’mon! I’m important. I-I’m worth replacing......” 

“Think about it…. If beer is still good after two hundred years.. Is it really something worth drinking?” 

“Personally, wouldn’t ever trust anyone to knock me out with gas or whatever, even if they claimed they were going to help.” 

“Can you imagine… having so much extra shit you’d need someplace to store it all” 

“Not paying ATTENTION-” (I fuck up a lot and trigger traps LOL)

“Not a big fan of being underground, so the sooner we wrap this up the better.” 

“Once upon a time, I suppose folks had nothing better to do than sit around outside”

“Greeaaat, because I ain’t seen enough trees and grass.” 

“Like I hadn’t already seen enough glowing shit to last a lifetime.” 

“Believe it or not, this is more civilized than some places i've lived”

"One of these bugs ever takes me down you tell people I died from trippin’ over my gun, fallin’ off a cliff, anything! It would be less embarrassing.” 

“Places like this….Makes me realize life was mostly shit before the bombs fell” 

“God…. Being in here is soul sucking.” 

“I hope you know where you’re going, I forgot my map.” 

“Least we ain't gotta worry about being hit by a train…..Right?”

“No question that shit was made to last…Maybe the wrong shit but still.”

“Me? I like night time. Something about it just feels right.” 

“You’re a real stunner, ya know that?”

“Are you shittin’ me” 

“Ever seen a dust angel? Bettin’ I could make one.” 

“Shiiiiitt I hate getting weeettt” 

“I’ve got a strong stomach, but ewwugh.” 

“You’re my kind of crazy boss.” 

“Boy do I love watching you work.” 

“Anyone ever tell you….your ass looks great in that vault suit.” 

“Don’t know about you, but I can’t see in the dark.” 

“You’ll always be the overboss of my heart- Hehehehe I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t keep a straight face.”

“Blamo” 

“Sheeeeeettt” 

“Don't mind me, just throwing up a bit in my mouth here.” 

“Damn, I hate insects. Like I needed something else to wipe off my fucking shoes” 

“VerMIN”

Everything. Just everything he says is wonderful. His voice is so fucking sexy.

"I'm not that big of a dick"

"Bullshit. Without me I'd be scraping your guts off the floor"

"Before you start pissing all over the plan, why don't you take a minute to hear me out."

"You ready to listen?"

"You're one ruthless son of a bitch aren't ya?"

"Awwwhh C'mon :("

"Just give this a chance, you might even have a little fun."

"Tell yuh whut."

"Everything all peachy with our friendly neighborhood psychopaths?"

"Welcome home, boss."

"I knew you had it in you."

"Next, the fun stuff."

"You look like shit."

He refers to getting high as "Getting blitz." LOL

"Well that oughta make things more interesting"

"hehehe OOPS."

"The fun we can have in this thing!"

"That one have pictures in it?"

"I like a good haul as much as the next guy-"

"You sure you got everything? There's a few more rocks you haven't picked up."

"I never had the hands for that kind of shit. Glad you do."

"You got some nimble fingers there huh?"

"You okay?" (When he shows concern?? UGH)

"Well now, would you look at that."

"Oh for the love of-"

"You gonna build me something nice?"

"Lookin good, Boss."

"oooh, gutsy."

"Pretty tough mutt you got there." (Any dialogue about Dogmeat is great)

"Aww, look at how nice and clean this is, and I here am, dirtying the place up." (one of my favorites)

There's so so many more but I didn't want this to get crazy long

[edosianorchids901]

Holding On Forever

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "a sleepy hug"

“Oh my gracious, that was such a long day!” Aziraphale slumped back in the Bentley’s passenger seat, utterly drained. Oh, he could practically doze off right here. “I don’t think I ever want to talk to another person ever again.”

Crowley snorted. “Not counting me, I hope?”

“You’re not a person,” Aziraphale said through a yawn.

Another snort. “Wow. Thanks. Terrific friend, you are.”

“Oh, you know what I mean!” It was getting rather hard to think, everything muddled. And oh, how Aziraphale’s back ached. “You’re a… a… not human. That’s all I mean. Humans are people.”

“Yes. They are. You’re as groggy as I am, aren’t you?” Crowley wrenched on the steering wheel, and the Bentley hurtled down the drive. “I told you that you were overdoing it today. We shouldn’t have done the whole dinner thingy.”

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley had told him, but there were simply so many interesting antiques at the auction, and then lots of rare book collectors to scope out over the “dinner thingy”. But he’d run out of energy quite badly partway through, and pushed himself entirely too hard. And likely pushed Crowley too hard, too. “Are you all right, my dear? Okay to drive?”

“Hn, yeah. Can drive fine. Besides, my car will stop me if I’m about to drive off the road.” Yawning, Crowley patted the steering wheel.

“You didn’t answer whether you were all right.”

“Ngh.”

“I answered you earlier.”

“Yeah, and you claimed you were, and then totally ignored me when I said we should head home.” With a soft hiss, Crowley flicked his hand. Their gate swung open, and the Bentley rocketed through, headlamps illuminating the garden. “So no, I’m not very all right. My legs are bloody killing me, and I’ll be lucky if I can move tomorrow.”

Even as sleepy as he was, guilt tugged at Aziraphale’s tummy. He reached over and over rubbed Crowley’s arm. “I’m sorry. I thought you were more worried about me, rather than wanting to go home because you were in pain.”

“I was. Worried about you, I mean.” Crowley didn’t quite smile—his expression had been fixed in his default glower all day—but he softened a bit. “And s’ okay. I’m not pissed off or anything, just grumpy.”

Aziraphale had to smile at that. Yes, when it came to Crowley, there was a significant distinction between real anger and his usual irritability. And it was no wonder he was so irritable, when he was in so much pain. Aziraphale had found himself getting increasingly snippy with humans as the day wore on and he began to ache more.

“I think a hot bath may be in our future tomorrow,” Aziraphale said as the Bentley screeched to a halt right in front of the cottage. “We can have a nice long soak.”

“Sounds terrific, especially if we mix it with wine.” Groaning, Crowley shoved the door open, then grabbed his cane and struggled out of the car.

Aziraphale struggled on his way out too, rather more than usual. Ordinarily, his back just ached, a mild deterrent to doing too many things in one day. As he found himself with rather limited energy, it was rarely too much of a problem. Today, it was certainly a problem. “Ooh dear…”

“Gosh, you really screwed up, didn’t you?” Crowley asked. He limped around the Bentley and took Aziraphale’s arm, helping him straighten up. “Want tea or cocoa, or do you need to go straight to bed?”

“I want to sleep.” Aziraphale didn’t even want to spend time getting to bed. He was far too groggy, his remaining dregs of energy failing fast.

And Crowley was so close. Aziraphale stepped even closer, wrapped his arms around the narrow waist, and buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder.

“Er,” Crowley said, awkwardly catching hold of Aziraphale. He wobbled a little, then steadied as he shifted his weight to lean more solidly on his cane. “Why are we hugging?”

“Because I’m sleepy,” Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley’s chest. “And you’re nice.”

“M’ really not.”

“Comfy.”

“Uh, okay. I guess. M’ not exactly the ideal pillow you are, though.” Crowley rubbed his back, light circles that felt nice even if they couldn’t relieve the throbbing pain all along Aziraphale’s spine. “Should probably have a drink of some sort to relax before bed. S’ part of the routine, and I bet neither one of us will be able to sleep if we don’t. D’ya wanna head in?”

Aziraphale kept his arms locked around Crowley. He could happily hold onto Crowley forever. “I don’t want to move.”

“Well, me neither, but I really don’t think sleeping standing up is gonna do wonders for my legs or your back.” Crowley pressed a slow, tender kiss to his neck, then nuzzled into his hair. “C’mon, angel. I know you’re outta energy, but you’ll feel better if we go have some cocoa.”

“Oh, all right.” Yawning, Aziraphale let go, and then immediately captured Crowley’s free hand. “I know I ordinarily insist on making cocoa properly, but in this instance…”

He yawned again, unable to finish his sentence. Crowley squeezed his hand and coaxed him into motion. “Miracled it is. I’ll make you a proper cup tomorrow, provided I can stand.”

“Thank you, dear boy.” Aziraphale managed a sleepy smile. “You really are quite good to me, you know.”

Crowley’s scowl softened again, this time into a full smile. “I know.”

[middlenamesage]

My least favorite or least understood stereotype about each zodiac sign

Disclaimer: Just my thoughts and observations! 🌻

Aries ♈️

They’re angry

Yeah Aries is ruled by Mars, and Mars helps us feel the anger that allows us to establish our boundaries. So not gonna say there’s nothing to this one. But to me, Aries are passionate in most of my experiences with them. People who are fake might piss them off, but otherwise the energy can actually be really chill a lot of the time when it’s healthy, because it’s authentic. Particularly angry Aries probably feel very conflicted in themselves.

Taurus ♉️

They’re boring

I guess if your idea of boring is someone that tends to wanna be physically more stationary, then yes this can hold true for someone really feeling their Taurus placements. But to me, I have never met a person with prominent Taurus influence that is boring. They notice so much about their physical surroundings and tend to have lots of weird little quirks developed in the name of protecting their resources, providing for themselves, or beauty. Very interesting people to my Scorpio Moon and Pluto. 🧐

Gemini ♊️

They’re two-faced

I think in a lot of cases where Gemini might appear to be giving conflicting information to different people or saying different things at one time vs another, it’s not an intentional effort to manipulate or be someone they’re not. They just process so much information and mentally they move so rapidly from one area of focus to another, that they might not even be giving themselves the proper time and in depth exploration to truly understand how they view something. Machiavellian Geminis do exist, but it’s more common that if Gemini seems to be showing different sides, that the duality is just how they authentically process life within.

Cancer ♋️

They’re sweet! (I think this warrants an ! because I have special insider status 🌞)

The Moon ruled crabs are protective 🦀 I know it’s not just me. You’d think this would be one of the first things discussed with Cancer, due to the images of a crab with its shell, plus the way the Moon rules over the night when it feels less safe out. Often times Cancer energy does not read as very inviting to just anyone! If the energy is unhealthy it can even be one of the most toxic in the bunch from how I see it. But don’t generally expect it either way to just be really warm and sweet to anyone. They show their nurturing side to their close kin.

Leo ♌️

They’re attention seekers

This one comes from a pretty personal place with me too, as Leo Venus and Mars. Soo many stereotypes especially about Leo Venus being an attention seeker in love. But my Leo Venus journey has actually looked way more like focusing on learning how to find self love and the ability to validate myself. Leo is a fire 🔥 sign and the objective for fire is exercising independent individuality. Yes, sometimes Leo energy is what you would clearly call the notion of true attention seeking (where it’s specifically the reactions of others that they crave). Sometimes they’re just boldly exercising their self expression though.

Virgo ♍️

They’re super organized

Some are, in ways that can be observed in their physical environments. But if you’ve ever wondered why some actually seem the exact opposite of organized in their physical environments, I believe it’s because Virgo, ruled by Mercury, is a very mental energy. They’re up in their heads trying to find order so much that it may never translate to their physical surroundings, as they may be depleting their own energy and will to act with their inner critic. Not to mention Virgo is a mutable sign, and some form of chaos tends to exist with all of them. 😆 I think my 6th house gives me some understanding of Virgos I wouldn’t have otherwise, and I feel what a mental experience it can be!

Libra ♎️

They’re balanced/fair

Lol I’m sorry I’m nitpicking something positive with this one, I’ll blame it on the South Node in Libra as this current transit has people needing to give consideration to the less evolved sides of Libra! Yes, healthy Libra energy tries to be as balanced and reciprocal as possible. That is the objective of Libra. But when at any point Libra energy is unhealthy, its keen sense of the scales can be used to intentionally tip things in their favor. Another unhealthy expression of Libra energy that we hear more is giving too much to others, but I want to bring attention to a less talked about unhealthy expression of using charm to gain more from someone than they are willing to give back to that person. Libra is ruled by Venus after all, and Venus doesn’t tend to be hesitant to accept special treatment. Finding balance is something Libra is working out over time, and it can be a challenge to find it in either direction! Sometimes we need to speak about the less healthy sides of all the signs!

Scorpio ♏️

They’re private!

Omg I just never understood this one from a personal perspective, as a Scorpio Moon. It seems maybe the people who see it this way are people who themselves aren’t very Scorpionic. Scorpio energy with its intensity might not feel safe opening up to them. But with me, while obviously not all experiences with Scorpios have been the same, there has never been a sign that has voluntarily opened up and shared about the depths of their life more rapidly, more times than I’ve experienced it with Scorpio. Depending where/how placed of course, some also make their taboos known to the general public. Pluto is both what is hidden and what is revealed, and the compulsion of Scorpio can sometimes be to reveal things, if they personally can see them. Not to mention Scorpio is co-ruled by Mars, and that’s an energy that is very up front.

Sagittarius ♐️

They can’t commit

Identifying how they personally view and understand things is very important to Sagittarius, so if they find something or someone they believe in, they could remain loyal with their views and dedication to almost a fault. I guess this stereotype comes from the way that fire is independent, and mutable signs can have fluctuating focuses. But valuing independence just means a Sag could be very happy to commit to a partner who also values it. And as Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, the fluctuation of Sagittarius as a mutable sign feels a little different to me, because Jupiter also tends to have a keen interest in establishing its worldviews.

Capricorn ♑️

They’re mean

The energy of Capricorn can be serious (although that’s also what makes some of them the most hilarious people; having developed humor as a coping mechanism to offset their seriousness) and can seem a little harsh to those expecting bubbly treatment. For this reason it tends to just feel more grounded and real to me though. Any sense of coldness that you could get from a Capricorn who has a healthy relationship with their energies does not read to me as mean! It reads as solemn and focused on realness.

Aquarius ♒️

They’re unemotional

Air as a function prioritizes intellectual and logical processing over emotional and intuitive processing, and fixed air can seem especially rigid about this. But does that mean this energy doesn’t experience all the emotions just like the rest of us? Of course not. And sometimes Aquarius can even have deep and honest philosophical conversations about their emotions. Aquarius wants to pick things apart logically and it prioritizes that form of processing to reach an understanding, but it still experiences the range of emotions that others do. And making personal emotions yet another topic they philosophize on can be a healthy thing for this energy, but an even more healthy thing to strive for is allowing the space to just sit with emotions.

Pisces ♓️

They’re chameleons

I personally haven’t observed this one much. Pisces can seem non-confrontational and agreeable, but I usually read that they keep the core essence of their authenticity across dealings with different people. It’s just that their authenticity might actually be expressed in the way that they can appreciate so many different ways to be and live. That Pisces who seems like they’re just acting interested in what you’re interested in to please you might actually be really interested in what makes you tick. Some may act chameleon-like for personal gain or only to avoid conflict, but an evolved Pisces understands that they’re one with everything so truly is interested in the views, loves, and ways of others.

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

1 and 5

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

hmm, well I can read this in a couple ways. like, i can usually get WHY someone ships something but a lot of the times i either fail to see the appeal or they’re so fanon it might as well be different characters, so why the insistence of the ship? otherwise, i can often think it’s a good ship but just not get why people are so obsessed with it or why it’s their OTP

so, everyone knows I’m gonna say sonadow, but this also applies to blazamy and infidget. like, it screams “i need a basic mlm ship where i just replace one character with a self insert and woobify the other one, and i’ll erase the canon love interest by giving her comphet and shipping her with the other girl character that way everyone is happy” like 💀 the creativity is on the floor. hell, gadget isn’t even a real canon character he’s just a fandom-owned oc! i’m cool with oc ships, but the people who declare him a real character confuse the hell out of me because he doesn’t have a canon personality or traits beyond the universal avatar so like. no he’s not lol. (you can like gadget btw i just don’t get ships with him especially infidget)

on a less “y’all are whack” scale and moreso a just “i don’t understand your lifestyle but it’s cool” i gotta say, a lot of the idw ships people have and yes this includes tangle and whisper because LOOK I LOVE THEM THE SHIP IS GREAT but it’s like, “mlegh i canon do much with this” energy. i get the ship but i don’t get the enthusiasm, y’know? bugbear is an exception btw

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

Hahahahahahaha, YES! now, bsc veterans may remember that i was doxxed by sonadow shippers in the 2000’s fandom, and that a certain discord server resulted in the near death of a bestie (long story that i hate talking about for privacy reasons, but i’m not exaggerating). y’allso know i’m not really good with its sister ship blazamy because i just mentioned it

HOWEVER. i have bigger issues with EVERY SILVER SHIP and wavouge. wavouge was literally my cool fruity best friends who are also girlfriends but not exclusively girlfriends because they’re like,,, free spirits and stuff. and y’all DOMESTICATED them. jail. prison. you turned them into blazamy again but this time with the stereotypical “omg hot girls do crime and they were girlfriends” trope. it screams tumblr “make everything lesbians” culture and it grosses me out. it’s like those fucking posts where someone talks about rewriting a story or myth or fixing a ship in a show or suggesting a media prompt and then someone responds with “but make it gay/what if they were both girls/let then be lesbians” and it’s just more basic lesbians. bland. boring. unoriginal. the fandom has taken so many cool relationship dynamics and just reduced them down to “uwu cute gay ppl i love them aaaa” like WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE EDGY SPICE!!! THE DEPTH!!! THE FLAVOUR!!! i’m like not aggressive mad rn i’m goofy-mad for the record because this shit bothers me but don’t hold every word i say as “the ultimate truth” i’m just casually rambling. you can have joke posts like a lot of my infinite doodles and how i respond to asks about dog&hog, but the difference is that is for HUMOUR and they are still dark complex characters in my canon even when i don’t take them seriously on tumblr

but anyways, back to silver. one word: woobification. i do not trust anyone with silver ships except myself and like a few other besties because it’s such gross mischaracterization for me? between him and scourge, some people just do not know how to act and make them so pathetic and docile and borderline stupid. i can’t enjoy most silver ships because a good portion of the content will just piss me off lolol. like, when silver is treated the same way as kat valentine from victorious i know something is SERIOUSLY wrong. ruins so much fandom content for me personally

also this isn’t ship-specific and it’s usually taboo to mention, but i am sick and tired of the intense feminization of transmasc characters. i know people will always respond with “oh but you can’t say that you’re attacking real transmascs who look like that! they can identify however they want!” but i would like to remind you that i am talking about fake people, not real ones. when an actual transmasc identifies with feminine traits and rocks that shit, they’re a real person who is well rounded with interests and likes and personality. when a FICTIONAL CHARACTER is reduced to their transness and frequently exploited for it, it makes me extremely uncomfortable and ruins characters and the ships they’re in for me. the fact that people project so hard onto these characters to an unhealthy degree that my criticisms of the fanonization feels like personal attacks on their identity says it all: let go of the blorbo, they are not yours and they are not you. let other people disagree with the fanon and not make it about how they invalidate your existence, because this has nothing to do with you actually.

and before someone comments, i do NOT mean we should abolish trans characters or not draw them with non-transitioned traits. you have have trans characters in your ships, etc etc but some of y’all just do not know how to act lol. some of my tumblrbesties on here have fantastic trans rep (you know who you are) and if fandom was more like them, a lot of ships wouldn’t be ruined for me

[wintersera]

would you be open to writing mommy!kim lip fucking reader with her strap

mommy!kimlip x f!reader

notes: felt like i needed to make reader a little bratty but i dont know if it’s bratty enough ☹️ kimlip is also a little mean.

cw: mommy kink, spanking, STRAP!!! (term cock is used for strap too), bratty reader (sorta), edging at the end?

word count: 0.9k

it’s currently 9am in the morning and it seems that lippie was in a horrible mood. you know how it is with her, sleeping at 8pm at night and waking up at 6am in the morning. but of course, oec are performing and she had to stay up late as hell.

now, as the youngest of the group, you were well… a bit of a brat. you wanted the attention of your mommy on you and not on whatever the manager was saying, so like an annoying little kid you came from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist.

the people around, and kimlip herself, were pretty much used to your behaviour, you’d always follow lippie around like a kid, hugging, touching, doing whatever to her. it seemed innocent at first, everyone just ignored what you were doing and carried on with their day, but as soon as you slithered your hands into her pockets to caress her thighs, she grew sort of annoyed and undeniably turned on. she wanted to listen to the manager so bad but your annoying ass was distracting her.

whispering under her breath “y/n stop. can’t you see i’m trying to listen?”

you ignored her.

continuing to rub your hands on her thighs, she had to stifle a moan. it was embarrassing for her, the manager questioning if she okay and if she was ill due to her flushed face. oh she was getting pissed off.

“we’re in public y/nie. save this for later or else…”

or else what? you thought to yourself. what is she gonna do with so many people in the room?

“manager. can i excuse myself? i need to have a talk with y/n. it’s important” with a stern tone and a cold look she turned to you… oh fuck you forgot that she was your leader.

dragging you outside the room and into another, she threw you into the wall with force, not enough to hurt you though. “what was that all about, huh?” her voice was flat, at this point you knew you were screwed.

“wait, sorry. i didn’t mean it.”

“didn't mean it? as if you weren’t trying to fuck me right in front of the manager” its as if her words were like daggers. cold and piercing. “why don’t you be a good girl for once and follow mommy's orders” reaching for the bag she brought with her, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to do. punish you? it seems like it. “strip. now.”

a shiver ran down your spine. strip? with the chances of someone walking into this room right now? “come on, obey mommys orders or else”

“o-okay mommy…” with ease, you took off your flimsy hoodie followed by your sweatpants, leaving you almost completely bare. it was embarrassing, she was standing there with full authority over your exposed body, lights on and everything.

“atta girl. now bend over”

and you did what you were told, fearing as if she was going to punish you badly when you got back to the dorms.

you wanted to please her, you obviously knew she was pissed off but you didn’t know it went to this extent. so with that in mind you spread open your pussy, arousal coating your folds.

if it wasn’t anymore humiliating, she suddenly slapped your ass, a loud thud echoing around the room. hissing at the hot throbbing pain in your cheek, it was quickly replaced by a feeling teasing your dripping hole.

“fuck- jungeun?!” another slap to your ass,

“that's mommy to you, another mistake and i’ll leave you here” hands on your hips, she steadies herself as she prepares you for her strap…? she brought her strap into the music bank changing rooms?

“oec we’re back on stage in 10 more minutes” panic starting to set into your body, what do you mean 15 more minutes? “m-mommy wait i don’t think we have enou-“ within seconds you feel her cock reach deep into your pussy, ramming into you without any mercy. an unbelievably loud moan ripping out from your throat, followed by the sound of her tutting in disapproval.

“be quiet”

fuck it was good. your legs were already shaking from the immense pleasure, her cock hitting your favourite place with every thrust. “oh my god, mommy- fuckfuckfuck slow down p-please” you could tell she loved being called ‘mommy’ noticing that whenever you call her that, she groans. her nails sinking hard into your skin leaving red stripes across the sides of your waist.

hands supporting yourself on the wall, you moan out loud on accident. as if you weren’t red before, your face was now flushed red, the embarassment was too much for you that you felt overwhelmed.

pulling your hair from behind, jungeun made you look back at her. eyebrows furrowed as she slams into your abused pussy relentlessly. “do i make you feel good? baby do i make your tight pussy feel good?” only focused on yourself you answered her with a small nod. unhappy with, your reaction she slapped your ass harder than earlier. “good girls use their words, are you gonna cum? tell mommy you’re gonna cum” the anger in her voice being oh so delicious, it was driving you so close to the edge.

“cum- cumming mommy pleasplease i’m cumming” legs beginning to spasm and your eyes rolling back, you felt your orgasm come close and then…. she pulls out. “what the fuck?” whining at the loss of her cock in you, sadness crosses your face, “why’d you pull out?”

she doesn’t answer, instead, she let’s your managers booming voice answer for you “oec, you’re about to get on stage” taking the strap of her, she places it back inside her backpack (specifically for the strap) walks to the door and stops before she could open it.

“if you perform well, i’ll think about letting that punishment go later” then she walks out without a care, leaving you without an orgasm. fuck…

[quin-ns]

Hi! Hope this is the right place to request,sorry if it isn’t. I was wondering if you could write a Routledge!hippie!fem! Reader x overprotective!JJ? Some suggestive fluff with a happy ending if that’s okay☹️ I absolutely LOVE ur work btw!!🩷

Reader is referred to as John B’s sister but she’s not described and is only a half sibling so anyone can read! I want to fulfill requests but it’s also important to me that I do what I can to make my fics inclusive 🫶

Peace & Love (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Every time JJ caught himself looking at you a little too long, he immediately felt John B’s eyes land on him. He had never mentioned it out loud, but JJ figured his friend knew he had a crush on you.

It wouldn’t have been a big deal if you weren’t John B’s little sister.

You weren’t actually that much younger than him, only a few months. Apparently Big John got around more than people realized, and after he pissed both John B’s and your mom off, he was left with the both of you.

It never seemed to cause any problems with you and John B, surprisingly. JJ sometimes wondered how that was possible, but John B took pride in being an older brother and you weren’t exactly the resentful type.

In fact, JJ was fairly certain you didn’t have a negative bone in your body. It was one of the many things he liked about you.

Your whole existence screamed peace and love, and all your friends (JJ included) joked that you were a hippie stereotype. It never bothered you, probably because you knew how badly the group needed someone who could remain calm and make everyone smile.

“I got something on my face or do you just think I’m pretty?” you asked suddenly.

It took JJ a moment to realize you were looking right at him, brows raised. Not long after that he realized he’d been staring again while lost in his thoughts.

You all were at a beach party, sitting around a bonfire. Other people were milling around all of him and his friends, but JJ wouldn’t have been any the wiser to their presence. He’d pretty much forgotten all about them, actually.

He flirted with you all the time, but this caught him off guard. If it had been just the two of you JJ would’ve been sincere and told you yes, he did think you were pretty. He’d been wanting to say something along those lines for a while, to test the waters.

But he felt the pressure of the others eyeing him—especially John B—and made some lame comment about not recognizing your headband and asked if it was new.

“Nah, man, I’ve had this one for a while,” you replied, subconsciously adjusting it.

John B looked at him as if to say, “really, dude?”, but you were too carefree to be suspicious.

Kiara laughed. “You probably haven’t seen it in a while ‘cause she has about a thousand.”

“So what? I like them,” you defended lightly. JJ watched a little too closely as you lifted your cup to your lips, but it was empty. “I need a refill,” you realized, standing.

JJ almost jumped to follow you, but he was still getting stared at. You disappeared out of his view through random bodies and he felt himself deflate.

“Seriously?” John B said, raising a brow at him. “You expect me to think you were looking at her headband?”

JJ felt like a spotlight was on him. Usually he didn’t mind, but this was a little more different. John B didn’t sound mad, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if his friend had told him to back off.

“If you like her, just say something,” John B continued, much to JJ’s surprise. His eyebrows even shot up while his best friend laughed. “Don’t look so shocked.”

“Yeah, dude, you’re super obvious,” Pope chimed in from off to the side.

JJ glanced at him and saw amusement before focusing back on John B.

“You’re so not pissed?”

John B laughed again. “Why would I be? I know you, man. And I trust you. So if she likes you back then… I mean, I’ll still have to have a talk with you, but you have my blessing.”

JJ let himself laugh at the phrasing. He stood, confidence building. “Since I have your blessing,” he started sarcastically. “I’m gonna go find her.”

That’s exactly what he did, maneuvering through the crowd, eyes searching for you excitedly.

When JJ spotted you, jealousy descended upon him. You were near the keg, filling up your cup, talking to some guy.

As he headed for you, that feeling morphed into protectiveness when he saw you try to walk away from the guy and he grabbed your arm.

“Hey! Let go of her, man,” JJ intervened, shoving himself between you and the guy.

“Who the hell are you?” the guy slurred out, face scrunching up in annoyance.

“The guy who’s gonna kick your ass if you don’t walk away,” JJ warned, squaring his shoulders. The guy hesitated for a moment, looking him up and down. Then, he turned and walked away exactly as he’d been told. “That’s what I thought.”

“Damn, JJ,” you said, sounding almost impressed.

He turned to face you and calmed down immediately when he saw you. “You alright?”

“Yeah, dude just couldn’t handle hearing “no”,” you relayed with a shake of your head. A small smirk tugged at your lips. “I guess I should say thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“You don’t gotta thank me.” JJ shrugged, attempting to be modest. “I’m always gonna look out for you.”

He was being sincere, and the smile you wore was appreciative.

“Noted,” you said before a more teasing smile crept onto your face. “So… you coming to ask about my headband again?”

JJ laughed in spite of himself. He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah… that was kinda lame, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “But you’re cute, so it’s okay.”

Was he blushing? JJ wasn’t sure. He flirted with you all the time, but this was new territory because of what he was about to say.

“That’s good to know, ‘cause I actually came to ask you out… so, do you have plans tomorrow?”

“Well, I guess I do now,” you replied, your smile that JJ absolutely loved growing wider. “Although, I hope you ran it by my brother first.”

[icallhimjoey]

In 120 Hours

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, mentions of drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: I have no idea what being a personal assistant entails, or what London Film Festival is actually like, but we can all pretend that this is accurate shit, right? Enjoy!

Wordcount: 3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Have you got any–”

You were already holding a hand out to him. Joe saw, grinned, opened his hand to receive a piece of gum from you and looked out the car window, hand on the door handle but not quite stepping out just yet.

Then he turned in his seat, back towards you a bit, but stared into the space in front of him.

“I’m not sure how I...” Joe trailed off, then looked at you, not finishing his sentence, but hoping that his eyes would do the talking for him.

“Could thank me? Have ever managed to function without me? Will go on living your life without me?” they were all jokes, and you were smiling, but Joe just nodded and went, “Yea,” with a crazed sort of look in his eyes. “Exactly all of those things.”

Joe stalled, looked at you, until you nudged him with a knee.

“Go on, the people are waiting,” Not just the people you could see from the car, but you imagined also all the important people, actors and actresses alike, in the cars queueing up behind you.

“Come with me,” Joe suddenly said.

“I will, I’ll see you right after the–”

“No, come with. Let’s do the whole thing together,”

You hesitated. This wasn’t in the job description. Lots of things hadn’t been, sure, but those things had been, you know, not quite so out in the open. Not like red carpets were, anyway.

“I think we’ve been spotted together enough as it is, I don’t want you to-”

“I kind of don’t want to get out without you.”

And you frowned, but only slightly, because there was that smile again. Fuck, that smile had gotten you into enough trouble as it was, and Joe fucking knew it too.

You checked the time. There was over twelve hours left still, technically speaking. That was over ten per cent of the entire job – quite a few too many hours to screw everything up and risk not getting paid. You had said you were reliable. Professional. You couldn’t, really...

“Please?” Joe opened a hand, presenting you with his palm.

But, ugh.

Fuck it. Why not?

You grabbed Joe’s hand and silently wondered if this was breaching the NDA you’d signed. Maybe not. You knew exactly who it was going to piss off though...

Stepping out of the car with Joe, you were met with girlish screams of adoration. Well, Joe was met with girlish screams of adoration. Then cameras flashed brightly, blinding you almost instantly, and you thought back to how precisely one hundred and six and half hours earlier, you would’ve never envisioned that this is where you’d end up.

Doing a red carpet with Joe.

In a slutty dress. With slutty high heels on. Without the engagement ring on.

Not even a full five days had passed...

Not even a full six days had passed, since you’d phoned your friend and she had told you about the vacancy. The whole thing felt like a vague fever dream now, like it had happened years ago.

“Please tell me you have nothing going at the moment,”

It was a weird way for your friend to answer her phone when you called to ask her if she had time to go for drinks that week. Because, consequently, you had all the time for all the drinks, you see, because you had absolutely nothing going at the moment.

No professional things. No personal things. Zero job. Zero fiancé – you really had to remove that ring, but you couldn’t yet. It used to belong to your grandmother before, after all, so it kind of felt like if you just wore it on another finger, it’d be fine.

Still adjusting to life as a single woman - with big bills that belonged to single women - working as a temp and having a best friend work at a temp agency, the two of you seemed a match made in platonic heaven. She always kept all the good stuff back for you, called you on her breaks to slip you information she definitely wasn’t meant to be giving you, so you could officially apply for the right jobs at the right times and use the right words to actually be invited to the interviews. It was perfect.

Sometimes, the good stuff would be going through PowerPoint presentations in stuffy conference rooms in deeply exotic places, like Belgium. Or you’d manage an entire office for two weeks, a holiday-cover that would start Christmas eve and left you in charge of a lot of empty desks because, didn’t everyone take time off around Christmas and New Year’s?

But then, other times, the good stuff was actual good stuff and had you help run huge music festivals, unexpectedly brushing shoulders with the likes of The Wombats and Liam fucking Gallagher backstage wearing knee high wellies, covered in mud.

“Oh my God, what have you got?”

No dillydallying. As a temp, there was never time. All jobs came fast, and all jobs went fast.

“It just came in, this phone call is unbelievable timing because I’m allowed to recruit for fucking once, finally, and you’d be so perfect for it!”

She had said that too when you’d been hauled off to dog-sit a poodle for some CEO of a company you had never heard of for two months, so you held off on the jumpy excitement your friend seemed to be exuding down the phone.

“It’s very short term and the money is amazing – I need a personal assistant for a high-profile client.”

“How short term, how much money, how high-profile?”

Like you said, no dillydallying.

“We’re talking not even a full week, just five days, all expenses covered and the salary’s generous. Very generous. And the money isn’t even the best part.”

Temping meant everything was short term, but this was the shortest a possible job had ever lasted you.

“Okay,” you said, knowing things were always too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

“If this is for a tory politician, or like, actual royalty, I’m out,” you warned, earning a huffed laugh from your friend.

“Don’t let this put you off, but there’s nothing else I’m allowed to tell you. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I can even send the job description over, and I’ll need you down in London for the interview as soon as possible, like, today? Could you do today?”

Oh, she was serious serious.

Okay, so... what was five days, really? If it was shit, it’d be over quick enough. You could really use the money too if it really was as good as your friend was making it out to be. And maybe you’d meet Meghan Markle, you know, if it was actually going to be royalty.

“Are we... are we talking like, Hugh Grant or whatever? Adele, maybe?”

Your friend laughed heartily.

“I can’t tell you anything else until you sign the NDA, but, I’m being so honest with you right now, you’re not going to want to pass this one up.”

And so, you’d given her the go ahead. Sure. Try get me in for an interview, why the fuck not? She said she’d make a call, get your CV into the right hands, and would call you back in a minute. When she did, not all but 11 minutes later, she’d already e-mailed you the NDA to sign. The interview wasn’t that day, but the day after – still too soon, but ok – and if successful, you’d start immediately too.

“Don’t worry, I think the interview’s just a formality – they love your CV, and from the sounds of it, they’re desperate. You’re a shoo-in. Get that NDA back to me and I’ll send you everything you need to know.”

She ended the call letting you know to reach out to her if you had any problems, and you said you would, knowing very well that you wouldn’t. You didn’t have problems. It was part of your charm. You carried solutions. You were dependable, reliable, one hundred percent guaranteed to make everyone’s life easier.

The only person you ever made things difficult for, was yourself. The proof of it was around your ring finger – on the wrong hand now, but still there.

From the names mentioned in the e-mail, which you’d immediately googled, you became none the wiser. They really kept you in the dark about who you were going to be working for, and the job requirements list was a lot. But you were good at job interviews. You knew the right things to say, the right energy to exude, the times to smile, the times to frown in serious thought – you could sell yourself better than you could sell anything else.

And you were competitive to a fault. No matter how arrogant of a celebrity was going to need someone handling their business for five days; you were going to get that job, and you were going to excel at it. Watch me, you thought, as you packed a carry-on with enough underwear to last you five days in case you were right. And if you were wrong, you could just spend money you didn’t have and maybe stay in London for a few days anyway. Visit old friends and old familiar places, because you kind of missed the place if you were being honest.

The next day your train had been late, and the tube had been packed, and you’d almost been run over three times, but you didn’t care. London was gritty and grimy and perfect. The London-shaped hole in your heart could really only be filled with the smell of searing, hot dust that lingered underground and became thicker and more prominent the deeper down escalators would take you.

You aced the interview. Of course you did.

Every question you were asked felt like they were trying to find reasons to not give you the job. They were all questions about what you thought about certain things, what your opinions would be about certain situations, what you really wanted, and you’d rudely interrupted. You’d said that none of it mattered, did it? It didn’t matter what you thought about anything, what your opinions were or what you really wanted in any situation – what mattered was that you would do your job. What mattered is whatever the client wanted.

They’d congratulated you. Said you got the job. And then, right on cue, the door had opened behind you.

“Joe, come in, meet your new PA who’s going to be with you for the rest of the London Film Festival.”

Joe mother fucking Quinn walked in, smiling, looking at you, like you were an actual person that people could actually perceive.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

It was only a brief introduction before Joe was off again, called out of the room by someone else, and he said he'd see you later. Smiled again, and God, it was the kind of smile that could defrost the coldest of hearts. Joe's expression was objectively neutral, this was just his face, but his eyes exuded kindness in its purest form. Almost dreamily so.

You cleared your throat as the door shut behind him. All right. Back to business.  

You were talked through the things you had already read the day before; the things you'd received in your e-mail. Things that didn't really need further explaining, but you listened politely anyway. You got a long explanation of how NDAs worked and it was almost laughable. Yes, they'd sue you if you broke it. You got it. But they were very adamant, needed to make sure that you really did in fact get it. Having to drag you to court wouldn't just be an awful thing for you personally, they also didn't want to do it because it was a lot of work on their end which they didn't have the time for.

Noted.

"All right. Get your things and meet us downstairs, your car is waiting."  

"Car? Where are we going?" 

"We're not going anywhere. You are. The itinerary, his full schedule, you'll find it all in your e-mail."  

And when you looked at your phone screen, you saw you'd just received it, mere seconds earlier. Man, these people ran a tight ship. 

Opening your e-mail in the car, you were greeted by a digital calendar that had all of Joe's days planned out, down to the literal minute. You could see past the five days that you would be working for Joe too, and although less busy, Joe had things happening nearly every day for at least the upcoming three months it seemed.  

"Wow,"  

This was... a lot.

It had everything on there. Wake-up calls, car pick-ups, lunch time, phone calls, coffee breaks, fittings... 

There were several film screenings scheduled every day, obviously, that was how film festivals worked, and you wouldn't get to go to any of them. You weren't hired to sit and watch films with Joe, unfortunately. You were hired to haul Joe from one place to the next. Accompany him. Get him coffees. Check for schedule changes, because, “Everything is always up for change, so you better keep an eye out!”. Things could be delayed, or be postponed, or switched around – times, or locations – and it'd be up to you to sort things out. Make it all run smoothly. It was your job to make sure Joe would get to the places he needed to be on time.  

"And he needs close eyes on him, because he tends to wander. Keep him company. He's used to having someone with him. A family member, a friend, but none were available for this. So, now he'll have you."   

So... you were a luxurious babysitter, if you really thought about it.  

"What other things are important? Anything that’s not been mentioned yet that needs special attention?" you had asked, and were met with a fast answer. 

"Networking."   

This whole week was all about Joe being seen and being spoken to by industry giants. Joe was invited to see many films, just about all of them, but it wasn't necessary for him to actually watch all of them. As long as he went to meet the directors, he'd be solid. 

There were other obligations too. Besides the screenings there were screen talks, in depth-interviews, panels, debates, workshops, partner events (Joe wouldn't be going to those, no worries) and networking events (Joe had to absolutely be going to those, worry a lot). The industry happy hours were where it all happened, you'd been told several times. 

Then, on Monday, day four, there was Joe's film screening - not his film, but the one he starred in. That showcased him. It'd be followed up by a Q&A, and then of course, happy hour after.  

To make things even easier, more simple, not at all hectic or stressful: Joe also had studio photoshoots, two of them, and phone interviews to accompany the shoots. They were scheduled, slotted tightly in between all the in-person events and to be honest, it all seemed a bit much. Too much. No wonder they hired a PA for the week. This was overwhelming to say the least. 

Your duties would end after the most important day. The awards ceremony. Film Festivals were a competition, and there were awards up for grabs. You'd need to make sure that after five extremely busy days, Joe would make it to the ceremony in one piece, in the right outfit, and at the right time, because people had already been talking, and Joe was meant to give a little speech up on stage if his film was to win.

"Remind him of that. Maybe help him with the writing, too?"  

Sure. Why not?  

"And there'll be two boxes delivered, not huge ones, it'll only be about 5000 copies, but they all need signing,"  

Delivered where? Copies of what? 

"Copies?" you asked, deadly afraid of sounding stupid. 

"Photographs."  

Oh. Alright. Of course. Yes. Fine. 

In the backseat of a car, on your way to wherever they were taking you - they hadn't been clear at all - you saw that the signing of the photographs hadn't been added into Joe's schedule yet. You put down a few options and would check with Joe later until what time he minded working before you'd set it in stone. First task done. Your job had officially started. 

Five days. One hundred and twenty hours of this. You checked the time. One hundred and eighteen still to go, technically, but, who was counting?

The car stopped and you heard the ratcheting of the handbrake being pulled by the driver. You'd arrived. 

"Um, where are we?" you asked, undoing your seatbelt and gathering your things, but before the driver could answer, your door was opened from the outside. 

"Hey, welcome," it was Joe, and he held out a hand to help you out of the vehicle. What a gentleman. That warm smile, there it was again. 

"Are you ready?" Joe asked, taking your suitcase from you with an excited glint flickering in his eyes, and you weren't sure exactly what you were meant to be ready for. The whole week, was the correct answer.

Joe walked ahead of you, up the steps of a beautiful South London terraced house. Quite the mansion, by London standards. Joe stopped and turned as he reached the door. "I've only just moved in, so please, don't mind the boxes and, um, the lack of furniture. It's a mess. The only room properly done up is yours, so don't worry about that! They've made sure that at least one of us has a nice bed to sleep in,"  

 Oh.  

"They made it look like a proper hotel room, I'm kind of jealous of it,"

This was Joe's home. His actual place, where he... you know, lived, and stuff. And where apparently, you were going to be staying too.  

"This is your house?"  

Joe stood in the door opening, and beckoned you in.

"It's just easier to have you close, come on in,"  

Oh, this was going to be an interesting couple of days. 

"Wonderful, thanks."

---  

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[lavernius]

Okay, this is probably gonna be a strong start, but: I've kinda hated Lopez because of the way RT insists on him being Mexican, but with your Locus post being so good and hinting at your interpretation of Lopez having themes of disconnection from his culture (Something I've struggled with and continue to struggle with in my own relationship to being Mexican), I really want to hear your thoughts about that topic, because I would genuinely love to not hate Lopez and to be able to see something even vaguely like myself in him.

Oh my god what a wonderful ask to recieve as Lopez’s biggest fan. You have every right in the world to hate Lopez IMO, he pisses me off a lot of the time for similar reasons. Thank you so much for your perspective and interest!

Here’s my “Lopez and racial allegories” meta, from the perspective of a second-gen brown immigrant! Tentative follow-up to my Locus colorism post, racism CW.

I’ll start by saying I am not Mexican myself, but of the very large denomination of “brown people who latch onto any brown character because it’s so hard to find representation in media”. I did grow up with a predominantly Mexican/Latino community, which doesn’t give me, like, a right to speak on your culture so much as it gives me a unique perspective and experience.

First and foremost: we all know Lopez’s entire existence is laden with not-so-subtle racism. In-universe as much as by the white creators themselves. The entire bit that Lopez is Mexican sheerly because he speaks broken Spanish is annoying! Coupled with the fact that his whole role on Red Team is doing manual labor and he’s largely ignored otherwise—yeah okay Rooster Teeth. Good going on that one. Let’s reclaim Lopez for the actual culture.

I’ve come to see Lopez as—no thanks to RT; I fill in the blanks of Lopez’s character on my own—a beacon of cultural alienation, social isolation stemming from racism, reclamation of tarnished pride, and a righteously furious statement of “Look at me, I’m here and I’m brown and I’m not sorry.”

ISOLATION/ALIENATION: You’d think the most obvious allegory to him being a brown person is the fact that he speaks Spanish. It IS, but not just because he speaks Spanish: his language is his skin, something he was “born” with and can’t change without mutilation of his body. He has to learn how to navigate a world specifically designed against his language barrier. If more people spoke Spanish or tried to learn, the metaphor wouldn’t be as potent, but it’s so rare for him to find someone “like him” that it’s less about the language and more about the isolation.

UNFAIR STANDARDS: The other obvious racial allegory is the usual “robot racism” of sci-fi (which is its own bag of worms that I despise), which constitutes for the other half of this meta. He IS his job as far as everyone else in concerned. When is he ever doing anything but fixing or building, as per Sarge’s orders or the team’s needs? Similarly, real-world POC often have to fight to prove we can be “as capable” as our white peers, and even when we are clearly capable it’s very easy for them to reduce us to our talents before the fact that we’re people.

He’s largely forgotten by the fandom, too, as a reflection of the show’s negligence. Not really much to say there, just kind of goes to show you how easily forgettable he is because he gets no respect as a character.

SOCIAL CONFORMITY: Lopez’s Technical Guide to Empathy has Lopez admitting he could fix his voice module himself, but doesn’t see the point since no one cared to fix it before. He has to conform to their “normal” to fit in, like many POC do to live comfortably in a predominantly white society. He doesn’t, out of pettiness more than actual pride; I know what that’s like.

RECLAMATION: As per the last point, I take his refusal to speak English as a “fuck you” to the notion that he HAS to for other people’s sakes. He has a love-hate relationship with his language barrier. There’s an outtake from 7 where he tries to get Sarge to fix his language module, but more recently he’s resigned to it or—as recently as S15—desired for people to learn Spanish FOR HIM instead. Reclaiming prejudice isn’t easy, but it fits Lopez as a person to say “You can’t hurt me with that if I own it.”

PRIDE: He’s proud of being a robot! No matter how much it slights him, he knows it’s who he is, and the trauma of existing results in him being almost afraid of being anything else. I like to pretend his S17 labyrinth METAPHORICALLY reflects a fear of being whitewashed, because even if he’s proud, he’s traumatized by the nature of being a robot. Replace “robot” with “POC”; standard robot racism stuff.

CULTURAL DISCONNECT: I kind of ignore that he speaks Spanish poorly in canon (I get the bit, I just don’t care for the execution), but when I acknowledge it it reminds me of the cultural disconnect of thousands of immigrants and their families, especially those who lost their language to the West and struggle to learn it in adulthood. Alongside this, living for years without ANY real, substantial exposure to someone he can talk to means he’s naturally more adjusted to the Reds’ lifestyles (on top of forcing him further into being cast out). If someone comes along and properly understands him—see Locus S12—for the first time since another robot did, of course he’s going to be shellshocked, he doesn’t actually have experience with that part of himself.

RESIGNATION/SELF-ERASURE: Lopez isn’t quiet by nature, he’s quiet because he has no one to talk to! Before the Reds betray him in Blood Gulch he doesn’t shut up. When he meets 2.0 he spends hours just talking to that kid. When they launch him into space in S15 he just talks to himself the entire time. Over time he just seems to grow more resigned to being ignored, which results in him stifling himself because of aforementioned isolation. I’ve seen a lot of my peers of color—who are too scared of the backlash of speaking—shy away from A) self-acceptance and B) self-defense (in various forms), because they don’t expect to be accepted, much less heard.

Like all reclamation, the only reason the “Lopez is a brown person” narrative works out is because it was intended to mock and offend. All of the bits I covered are just me recontextualizing unfunny bigotry from the show, which, sadly, is the easiest way to enjoy a lot of offensive RVB characters without mischaracterizing them entirely.

There are times, obviously, when Lopez’s language barrier doesn’t actually stop him from talking to people, but to me it’s more about the experience of isolation and anger and wanting to be proud but struggling to find the support for it. Literally half of these metaphors wouldn’t matter if he got to talk to someone who cared about him and understood him simultaneously.

Lopez is designed in such a way that hating him for his writing is genuinely justified. Still, if just for the sake of being able to tolerate him, I prefer seeing him as the brown person who is angry because the universe isn’t made for him and wants to see him fail, but lives just to spite it.