#like nothing wrong with dropping out of college for real god knows I get it. just for me personally I have NO idea what I would do

[lesbianfakir]

If anyone’s wondering why I haven’t been posting on this blog I had a breakdown, dropped out of college for the time being, moved back home, and now I’m deeply addicted to stardew valley while I wait for one of the damn jobs I applied to to call me back

[i-prefer-base-twelve]

Ford x Reader x Sleep

It's not so much that you awaken as you're drop-kicked into consciousness. Heart racing, disoriented--it's still dark--Ford is sitting up beside you, panting, clutching the duvet to his chest.

Shit. Something's wrong. Fire? Intruder? "Ford?" You croak.

Ford looks in your general direction, confused. Then his eyes focus and his shoulders sag. He takes a ragged breath and smooths your hair.

"Nothing," he mumbles, voice shaky. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

You frown up at him. "Bullshit," you say. "What's wrong?"

He looks out the window. Or, he would be looking out the window if the curtains weren't drawn. "Just a bad dream."

You prop yourself up on an elbow. Ford told you he had nightmares sometimes, but he's never startled you awake before. "It must have been pretty intense," you say. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Silence. He stares hard at nothing. "You--" he stops, clears his throat, tries again. "You… he…" Ford closes his eyes. "He… possessed you."

No need to ask who HE is. Your stomach knots up on Ford's behalf. "Hey. Look at my eyes," you say softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek. "It's just me in here. He's gone. Forever."

Ford scowls, shoving your hand aside. "You think I don't know that?"

You flinch back. That stings, even if you know he's only angry at himself. "Hey, asshole, I'm trying to comfort you here. Either let me try or let me sleep."

At that, he grunts and lays back down, facing away from you. You stare at his back, wondering what you should do; you've never seen him like this and you might have just fucked it up. Before you can decide on a course of action, he rolls over to face you and rolls you onto your side and pulls you tight against his chest. You can feel his shaky breathing, his pounding heart.

You try to turn and look at him, but his arm around you is so tight you're pretty much pinned. If he doesn't calm down soon, you're gonna have bruises. And not the fun kind.

He clearly doesn't want to talk about it, so that leaves distraction. Distraction, distraction… ah! You say quietly, "Did I ever tell you about the moment I decided not to be a scientist?"

He shifts, arm loosening fractionally. "I didn't know you'd ever considered it."

You smile. This is totally going to work. "Yeah, I actually entered college as a chemistry major. There I was, all of 18 years and two weeks old, in organic lab, WAY over my head--"

"Organic chemistry as a freshman?"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I tested out of a bunch of credits."

"You never told me that." There's a gentle admonishment in his voice. You try to find a tactful way to say I don't talk about my college days because I'm an adult and finally decide on, "It never came up. Anyway, there I was in my first real chemistry lab, surrounded by all this strange equipment, and I was just trying to get the melting point of something." Which you do by waiting for a chunk of it to melt and then reading a thermometer. Science is not always complicated. "I turned the heat on, but I knew this thing had a pretty high melting point, so I started writing up my report while I was waiting, but then I got distracted and forgot I was heating it up… until the machine got so hot the thermometer blew out of its housing and shattered against the ceiling."

Silence. Ford's body, pressed against you, begins to twitch with laughter. "You FORGOT?"

You shrug as best your pinned shoulders will allow. "It scared the bejezus out of the whole class. Thank god it wasn't a mercury thermometer! No one was hurt. But that's when I knew I wasn't cut out for life in a lab. Changed my major to computer science the very next day."

You feel Ford shake his head behind you. "Too bad. You would have made a great chemist."

You laugh at that. "Clearly I would not have! Anyway, no regrets. I made it through the CS program without breaking a single machine. Wait, did I… no. The printer broke itself. I just put it out of its misery. Which was honestly one of the more fun times I had in college..."

"Mmmm," Ford says. Your scheme is working; he's falling asleep. You stop rambling as you feel his arm go slack.

You open your eyes to find yourself in the middle of a chem lab. The air burns your throat and stings your eyes. The tables around you are full of improbable setups, Rube Goldberg glassware hosting all manner of sickly-colored liquids. As you look closer, you notice the liquids are flowing the wrong way through the glassware.

You jump at the sound of glass shattering on the floor behind you. As you turn around, the lights flicker. A voice speaks, seeming to come from all around you and inside your head all at once.

"AND JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

You jerk awake, feeling cold sweat on your face. Ford's arm still drapes across your stomach, his breathing still slow and easy. Good, you didn't wake him up. You try to match his breathing, focus on the physical sensations of his warmth and weight against you, try to calm down. Dreams, man.

The next thing you know, a big hand is smoothing your hair. You force your eyes open to see it's morning. Ford is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you intensely. This isn't bizarre exactly, but it's not his normal pattern. Usually when you wake up, he's either long out of bed and knee-deep in mad science, or snuggled up next to you. You make an inarticulate questioning noise.

"I… made you coffee." He's strangely bashful, gesturing at the mug on your nightstand. Next to the mug is a plate of peanut butter toast and strawberries, aka the most breakfast you ever eat.

Ford brought you breakfast in bed.

Ford has never brought you breakfast in bed before. You didn't know he was even aware of breakfast in bed as a concept.

You sit up, turning to lean against him as you reach for the coffee. "Thanks," you say, not managing to keep the confusion out of your voice. He puts an arm around your waist and scoots closer.

Ford stays quiet, unusually quiet, while you drink your coffee. After nearly half a cup, he finally speaks. "No one's seen me like that before." He looks back to you, eyes locking onto yours. "I hope you don't think less of me."

You set your mug on the table and turn to face him. "Think less of you? No, of course not, why would I? Nightmares are scary."

He scowls, looking away. "You didn't deserve to be treated like that."

It finally clicks. He's embarrassed about waking up in a panic, and wants to apologize for snapping at you. You sigh, putting a hand on his knee. "Seriously, it's no big deal. You were freaked out, you didn't mean anything by it. Honestly, your reaction was pretty standard. I dated one guy who would actually wake up screaming--"

He looks at you then, pinching your hip playfully. There's the slightest smirk on his face. "I don't need to know about your exes."

You smirk back at him. "Point being, don't worry about it. I barely even remember waking up."

He looks relieved. "Were you able to get back to sleep ok?"

Were you? Now that he mentions it, you vaguely remember having an unsettling dream of your own. What was it…? Maybe you're just remembering feeling unsettled on his behalf. You nod and say, "Out like a light."

"Good." He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. And then, after a pause, he adds, "You know, before you, I would just spend the rest of the night awake. Pacing up and down the halls or writing in my journals. But with you…" he shakes his head, smiling. "I went back to sleep. You're a gift, and I intend to appreciate you better in the future."

You smile at him. "I like the sound of that."

He moves in to kiss you, and you gladly let him.

[noparadiseinthis]

English is not my first language. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles

Series: Come away, O human child! Part 3:

Because all living things disappoint us on some level

Spencer Reid/fem!Reader

Series masterlist here

Warnings: explicit domestic violence and abusive relationship. Descriptions of physical violence. Mention of miscarriage (doesn't happen). Marital rape (nothing too explicit, but there are some descriptions of the moment). Reader is married and has a child. Dissociation as a way of coping.

Summary: You reflect on your life choices in recent years while Spencer drops a bomb on you that shatters your illusions of comfort. How good a mother are you being? You scrub the dirt off your body in the shower, but it never comes off.

Your world has stopped several times during your life. The first time Steve shouted at you and showed that he could be aggressive, the first time he did more than shout, but especially when you held that positive pregnancy test in your trembling hands and lost all sight of the horizon.

You were already 8 weeks pregnant, and for the next 7 months, you had to learn to share your body with a little creature that slowly grew on you in every way. You thought you were broken when you didn't feel that mother-child connection, long nights awake wondering what was wrong with you. It was only the first time you felt Will move inside you that you realized how real it was. From then on, that protective instinct began to develop.

What you were ashamed to admit was that you only really loved him when you fell down the stairs and there was so much blood around you and as you lost and regained consciousness, Steve's face wandering above you in an ambulance, all you could think was "if there is a God, don't let anything happen to my baby". When you woke up in the hospital without knowing how much time had passed, you felt an emptiness inside you, and the nurse found you crying copiously, certain that you had suffered a miscarriage. That's when you found out that your baby was a boy, and reading one of your thousands of poetry books for college, you decided what to name him. A college you never finished, by the way.

When they placed him in your arms for the first time, bawling and with tearful little eyes wide open, wishing to go back to the comfort of your womb, where everything was safe, you hugged him tightly against your chest, wishing you could do the same thing while swearing in your thoughts that you would never let him be affected by his father's behavior, and under Steve's delighted gaze at the baby you had made, you almost thought things could be different. When you were discharged from the hospital with a list of foods for iron deficiency, you didn't bother to explain to the doctor that the bruises on your arm weren't due to a lack of iron.

"Hey, can you hear me? I need you to focus on my voice." Spencer said, loud enough to get his attention, but not so loud as to alert William.

He blamed himself for throwing you into this state, immediately recognizing the signs of dissociation. He knew he should have approached the subject with more caution, but for a moment, he felt that any chance he had was slipping through his fingers. How traumatized were you to already be conditioned to disconnect from reality when it knocked on your door?

Gradually, your breathing steadied as you realized where and with whom you were, blinking to stare at the worried face in front of you, the man's frown deepening as he analyzed you carefully. You were immediately mortified, looking away as you swallowed and remembered the original subject of the conversation. Will. You took a deep breath, glancing briefly at your son to regain your strength before turning your attention to Dr. Reid.

"Are you all right?"

You could only nod. "What... What were you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause that reaction. Is that common?"

You hated the way you felt like a patient in a doctor's office, and you had to suppress the urge to hug yourself for comfort. There was nothing wrong with you. Right?

"Please... Dr. Reid." You added your title as an afterthought, hoping it would do something for his request.

And so, he agreed to ignore one of the many elephants in the room, just as he ignored the nail mark on your arm and your blank stare.

"It was something he told me when I was bringing him here. He told me he ran away because you two were starting..."

"Starting?"

"I hadn't understood either, but then I got here and I knew. He sees you fighting." Could it be called a fight when you never fought back? "He knows what happens at home, maybe not everything, and I hope not, because these things are never good for a child's upbringing, but he can already tell there's something wrong. Children aren't as naive as their parents think, he'll only realize it more as he grows up."

Proudly, you swallowed and straightened your back, hiding the little dried blood on your arm by pressing it against your stomach. "I don't know what you think is going on, Dr. Reid, but there's nothing for him to notice."

Spencer sighed, not understanding exactly where his denial was coming from, considering that he had already seen the violence firsthand. Still, he noticed how your eyes showed anguish and regret for the first time, unconsciously making his profile. You felt you had failed as a mother, and you were ashamed to expose it.

"Willy, darling, it's time to go, okay?" You spoke up, drawing your son's attention.

Once again, Spencer felt like he was doing a bad job, his left hand twitching next to his thigh as he thought about how this could be the last time he would see you. And of everything that could happen to you and your son if you never managed to break out of this cycle of abuse.

"Can we go to the park?" The childish, bored voice asked, walking up to you with his phone in his hand.

With a glimpse, Reid realized that it seemed to be some kind of educational game about dinosaurs. A quiz where you had to guess the name of the dinosaur that appeared on the screen.

"Not today, love, you know you shouldn't have run away from me. Maybe tomorrow, if you behave."

"Whatever," William muttered sulkily, kicking up invisible dust. "Bye, Dr. Reid."

"Bye, buddy." Spencer said, his voice much softer as he crouched down and raised his hand for a goodbye high-five, which brought a smile, albeit a small one, to the child's face.

With impressive agility, he stood again, staring at your face for what seemed like long seconds before finally asking. "Am I going to see you again?"

Answering was more painful than you'd like to admit. "I don't think so. Goodbye, Dr. Reid."

Picking up your bag from the table, you turned to leave, holding your son's hand.

"Does he like dinosaurs?" Spencer asked, still unwilling to allow you to leave. Unwilling to admit that he was scared.

You turned around, frowning before nodding, a confused look on your face.

"I saw the game on your cell phone." He admitted, looking a little shy as he did so. "It's just... there's a traveling park. They're going to be in town for one day in three days. Admission costs 10 dollars. You should really consider going... You never know... who you might meet after you've thought it through."

"I don't know if I'll have time for that."

This time, Spencer didn't stop you. You didn't see when he noticed the zipper of your bag open. Dangerous, but convenient. You didn't see when he took a card out of his pocket and threw it in. You only heard when he exclaimed, "Your bag is open!" Because he wasn't a bastard who would let you walk around with more risk of being robbed. He watched you walk away wishing deeply that you'd decided to go to the park after all. He would be there, regardless of any decision.

When he returned to his meeting, Spencer made little eye contact and mumbled some lame excuse about taking questions from a policeman when they mentioned how long it took him. He didn't see how Morgan's gaze remained on him for much longer.

•••

Steve could have been in several moods today and you knew them all. The most likely was aggressive. William would have to go to bed early while you suppressed any moans of pain and any crying so as not to alert your son. He was often the passive-aggressive one, pointing out all your little mistakes without caring if it made you cry. When he fought with you, however, it was very rare that he came home being the loving Steve. You knew what it meant; he wanted to get into your pants, but today, you were too exhausted for that.

Even so, when he played with Will in the living room, when he complimented you on your food when he came up behind you while you washed the dishes and wrapped his hands around your waist while placing kisses on your neck, you pretended that you and your son were loved.

"You look so beautiful today." He whispered against your ear, one of his hands going down to explore the inside of your thigh. "Driving me crazy."

"Steve!" You exclaimed softly. "Will will notice." Will noticed a lot of things, you reminded yourself, and quickly pushed the thought away.

"It's past his bedtime." You didn't even know that Steve knew his son's bedtime. "I'll send the boy to bed and we'll finish this, what do you think?" One of his hands slid to your throat, and your head instinctively went back, resting on your husband's shoulder.

He interpreted her silence as the only answer he needed, whispering in a thick voice, "That's right, kitten," before slapping her ass and leaving to put William to bed. Leaving you there with a lump in your throat as his fingers tightly gripped the last plate you had just washed, and you tried to pull yourself together.

•••

"Damn, you're so pretty," he said, pulling you under him on the bed as he showered your face with kisses and made you tingle. "I'm sorry about today, darling. You know I'm sorry, don't you?" he asked, taking your arm gently and kissing the wounds softly. You just nodded. "This would never have happened if you hadn't been so absent-minded, but still... I feel so bad."

You lost yourself in his almost loving words, his soft kisses, and the tender, careful touch on your skin, the weight of him above you seeming pleasantly welcome after such a long time. You missed it so much... feeling like you were in a normal relationship. Somehow, he always convinced you to let go of any transgression.

It was only when he pressed his erection against your thigh and growled in your ear, "I can't wait to fuck you tonight," that you realized exactly what you were getting into.

"I'm so tired." You murmured against his lips. "Tomorrow, please?"

Suddenly, the grip around your waist was much more oppressive, almost painful, revealing his true intention: to restrain you.

"But you had me so worried today," he said, in that annoying tone as if he were talking to a child, then he cracked a smile that gave you goosebumps, "Aren't you going to make it up to your husband?"

The hand that went to the side of your neck reminded you of how much you disliked what happened when you tried to reject him. Feeling so small, you nodded.

From then on, you hardly noticed the dirty, possessive things he whispered and growled in your ear, his strong grip that would leave bruises all over your body and the brutal way he penetrated you. No, you kept replaying that conversation in your head, wondering if Will could hear them from his room. You remembered that article you read a while back, that listening to parents having sex causes effects similar to sexual abuse in a child. How children who grew up in violent homes were more likely to be violent or suffer abusive relationships. Spencer Reid's voice never left your head, filling you with guilt for all sorts of reasons.

When Steve fell beside you on the bed, pulling out a condom that you had not noticed he had put on - but felt grateful for - you no longer knew who you were. This morning, you were a good mother. Now, not even that. When you got into the shower, Steve didn't even bother to go after you and when you scrubbed your skin until it was red, crying quietly and feeling like the dirtiest person in the world, trying to get any trace of him off your body, he rested with a clear conscience in bed. The weight of what had just happened finally hit you and you suppressed the urge to vomit as you realized that you had been used once again.

As you lay on the bed, you allowed Steve to pull you against him; you allowed him to wrap his arms around your body as if he were some kind of protector, and when he kept whispering things like "You're only mine", you agreed. Because, after all, what else could you do?

Staring at the ceiling, you remembered the first time he pushed you and how he clung to you afterward, begging forgiveness as he cried and said he didn't know how to be different from your own father.

"Hmm... Lovie?" You asked softly, trying hard to stay calm.

"Yes, darling?" he mumbled, being roused from a light nap.

"There's going to be a dinosaur park in town in a few days. Can you... can you give me the money to take Will?"

You finally realized that you didn't want to be like your mother.

Taglist (if you want in or out, just let me know):

@yokaimoon @fanfic-viewer @v1ckycheesue @mynameiskelly @pacmil

[arminsumi]

. . . 彡 🗑️ trash draft: goodboy façade.

NOTE: i present to u... nerd armin crumbs. i've sat on this thing for months, it was part of a longer fic that i had planned out but it was too much to write for me so i gave up on it lol

🔞 minors don't read or interact / n.sfw / smut / 18+ content

WARNINGS — stereotypes, m*sturbation, sending nxdes for a paid dare, mentions of alcohol but not being drunk, mean reader, min's fantasies include creampies, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

He was sick of it. Sick of seeing that red tint on your lips. Sick of the way his pants tightened up at your flirting. Sick of only having your lips around his dick in his fantasies.

And good god, he had an endless stream of fantasies. As far as his imagination's concerned, you've had sex with him every day.

His fist isn't enough. His daydreams of you aren't enough. He needs to really feel you, or he might actually explode.

But despite his overwhelming lust, his hands are tied behind his back, and his shirt collar is as pristine as his goodboy façade.

You know how you turn him on, in fact you're sorely aware. It's almost amusing to see him suffer.

He blushes up to his ears when you compliment him. His pants tighten when you murmur dirty jokes into his ear. He nearly chokes on air when you 'accidentally' press your thigh against his during Levi's lectures.

Your scent lingers on his T-shirt and he can't help but inhale them and start rubbing his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

He's focusing hard on the image of you pawing at his bulge, teasing him for being too wimpy to make a move himself. His fantasy grows bigger with each stroke of his hand, his pretty pink tip is flushed and throbbing underneath the grey fabric. The outline of his cock looks like something right out of a hentai, and the same goes for his moans.

He muffles his whimpers on his hand, imagining that it's your lips muffling the sound instead. He gives his aching cock a few squeezes through his sweatpants. He heard a rumor that you tend to tease like that.

Just as he gets into it, his phone erupts with dinging notifications. Right then, it's the most annoying sound on earth. He's torn right out of his fantasy of you.

The repetitive sound gets on his nerves, that is, until he checks who its from, and sees that it's you messaging him.

His jaw fucking drops at the message. His brain short circuits. Is his vision deceiving him? Is this real life right now? He's just about losing it.

Meanwhile, you're giggling over your phone screen with your girl friends. The time glares at you in the corner; 2:45 am.

Everyone at this party thinks that you're wasted, but that's one of the many talents you possess; acting drunk when actually you're as sober as a priest.

Your girl friends can't stop with their stupid, drunk giggles.

"Alright, I did it. Pay up." You smile evilly over at your favorite blond, Tori.

She groaned and pulled out her phone. Within a couple of minutes, you received a notification that your wish list was 'anonymously' purchased.

"Thanks, Tori, 'love you!" You coo and smile, pulling her in for a hug.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it..." She giggles to herself, "Armin is probably too prudish to stare at it too long, you know."

Your smile morphs into a cruel smirk. In this friend group, there is no debate about Armin's 'prudishness'. What's the problem with being a virgin at twenty-two years old? Nothing at all, there's nothing wrong with that; but your opinions have molded to fit the shape of your friends, haven't they? So you just agree that Armin is the biggest prude at your college.

And that poor boy, that poor boy, he's laying in bed freaking out over the fact you sent him a nude of yourself, meanwhile you're getting back to partying.

You did not just accidentally send him your best nude, there's no way.

What's worse than the lack of context is the fact you went offline right after he read the message. There's no way, he thought.

Armin can't even form a thought. His eyes are just glued to his screen. He subconsciously brought his face closer, and his hand dove under his pants.

There's no way it was an accident, he knows that, he's not an idiot. He's the valedictorian of your college.

Whimpers fill Armin's dorm room. His mind is racing. Heart palpitating. Your name falls off his lips while he approaches one of the best orgasms he's had in a while.

Before he knows it he's spurting hot ropes of his cum all over his shirt, the shirt that smells like your scent. Your name echoes off his walls, and in his mind he's just deliciously filled you up to the brim with his milky white release.

[anxi-aashi]

ok i dont have the energy to put this into a fic rn but i CANT stop thinking about college au! childe almost walking in on you while you're getting yourself off.

like he'd still knock of course, but it would scare the absolute shit out of you. instead of hanging out with your roommates that he's friends with (who are most certainly NOT gathered in your room) he'd be all "hey pookie can i come bother you I'm bored," while you're fully sat on a dildo.

and bc you wouldnt want to seem suspicious, you'd say sure, just a sec! and immediately run to throw the sopping wet toy into your bathroom sink before letting him in.

and he's just too observant for his own good. "hey you ok? you seem out of breath" yeah because you were.... working out! "really? you're not sweating though?" CHILDE DROP IT OMFG but he wouldn't. he just asks so many goddamn questions and you honestly can't tell if he's just fuckign with you or if he's just genuinely concerned for you. what were you doing? pilates? so thats why you're walking a bit weird? how tf were you not sweating after pilates? oh you just started? well sorry to interrupt!

yeah.... you're sorry too -_-

but hes here now so you offer to watch a movie and hang out, nevermind the cum threatening to run down your leg. "sure! you pick smth out and ill go to the bathroom real quick!" he says and curse your post-orgasm clouded mind for not being quick enough to warn him bc now he's standing in front of you, dildo in his hand, looking at you knowingly.

youre mortified obviously. the two of you are cordial but not THAT close and god you can almost picture the slick and cum that's smearing all over his hand now. why is he holding it for fucks sake???

childe wouldnt be merciful either -- this is a fucking gold mine for him. "well, i guess this is a workout" and you would like the earth to swallow you up so that you don't have to look at him with that shit-eating grin that's creeping up his face.

hed switch the dildo to his other hand and start opening and closing his fingers together, making webs of cum string in between. "you said you just started?" no, you'd have to refute, that part was a lie.

"and you were getting off with this?" and now WHAT was that supposed to mean bc there was truly nothing wrong with the dildo size!!! it was perfectly fine, it did its job. sure it could be a tad bit longer, but you had bills to pay. he lets it go (with a judgemental eyebrow raise), but when he opens his mouth again to ask "what were you doing?" you almost wish he had kept making fun of your tiny ass toy. "were you using your hands or the suction cup?"

god he'd have a dangerous look on his face by now, lidded eyes looking at you like you were gonna be his next meal; pitching his voice just a tad bit lower just to see you squirm.

"you don't have to answer, but i would really, really like to know." aaaaaand there it goes. there's goes the last bit of your sanity bc huhh?? huuuuhh??? dear lord i would fully melt into a puddle we love a man that can make consent sexy.

fuck it, right? yeah, you were using the suction cup. "yeah? you like riding dick?" SHFBAN;DNSJF;F GODDDD

"you got any other toys?" yes sirrr yes I do, got a vibrator right over there in the nightstand. and duh now he's gotta follow up with "ever use both?"

which you have. who hasn't? but you usually only use it for quickies, you say. don't want it to be over too fast, ya know?

but then. thennnnnn he'd hit you with this: "you still horny?"

lorddddd you have NO idea, but you don't say that lest it get to his head (but lets be honest, he knows what he's doing; he knows how desperate he's making you). so he walks up to you, finally, and hands you your dildo, all sticky and starting to dry by now.

"well don't stop on my account."

and he plops down on your bed, manspreading just the tiiiiiniest bit to where you can see the tent in his pants.

which is how you find yourself back in your desk chair, thighs burning from fucking yourself on a dildo you now know is much smaller than whatever childe is packing while he just watches, palming his cock over his pants.

anyways gonna go work on my wips now lolololololololoolo

[lizthewriter]

pretty isn't pretty / peter parker

PAIRING  mcu!college!peter parker x insecure!fem!reader

SUMMARY  you feel insecure about your apperance, but peter let's you know he thinks the world of you. (blurb).

TAGS  mcu!college!peter parker x insecure!fem!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, peter parker is a good bf

QUOTE  "i could change up my body and change up my face, / i could try every lipstick in every shade, / but i'd always feel the same, / 'cause pretty isn't pretty enough anyway," - pretty isn't pretty by olivia rodrigo

WORD COUNT 600

WRITTEN  12.30.2023

you stared into the bathroom mirror in peter's microscopically sized apartment. every little blemish was picked apart, every little imperfection taken notice of. you raise a hand to your cheek, a dull expression haunting your eyes. is this what people saw everyday? is this the person they waved hi to in the halls, the person they interacted with in lab? is this the sight people were subjected to?

"- and i was thinking maybe we could grab a bite to eat while we're out anyways, my tr- whoa, what's wrong?"

your beautiful, kind, lovely boyfriend leaned into the bathroom, watching you with concern. peter was perfect in every way imaginable. he had a handsome, adorable face, clear skin, amazing build, and a good height. he was intelligent, witty, sweet. how could he ever want to be with someone like you?

"nothing," you responded weakly, tfying to muster a convincing smile. "thai again? you'll have to give me some time to get ready -"

"hey, no! we don't do that," peter said, giving you a look that was half-reprimanding and half-concerned. honestly, did you even deserve him? "we don't close up on each other, right? that was a deal we made. talk to me, babe, please." he had grabbed your hands in his, looking at you with those warm puppy eyes you couldn't deny.

no longer could you meet his eyes. you drew your hands away, rubbing at the back of your neck. your eyes suddenly found their attention latched onto the new makeup you had bought recently, various differenr shades of lipsticks and such glaring back at you. "i- am i pretty?"

peter seemed flabbergasted by the question. "uh, no. i think you're very pretty, actually. like, the prettiest girl i've ever seen in my whole life and-"

you stopped him before he could continue with a gentle hand pressed to his chest. "no, peter, not do you think i'm pretty. am i pretty?"

the sadness in your eyes gave him more cause for concern. with your head directed towards the floor, he had to take a knee to look up at you, to force you to look at him. "hey. hey. where is this coming from, huh? is someone saying stuff to you? someone online, or?"

"i don't know," you whispered. it felt uncomfortable in your own skin. you never felt good enough. you never felt smart enough, or strong enough, or pretty enough. especially pretty enough. "i guess . . . everywhere. online and in movies and on social media. in real life even. there are so many other girls out there - prettier, skinnier, better. i'll never measure up to them."

"hey," peter whispered softly, a smile dainting his face as he gingerly held your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "you can't compare yourself to other people, okay? beauty is subjective. in other cultures, things that might be considered beautiful could be considered unattractive to us. and maybe that's not what you want to hear. if you want to hear me tell you that i think you're beautiful, then i will, because you are beautiful, no matter what everyone else says. like in a oh-my-god-is-that-her-jaw-dropping-i-want-to-get-down-on-one-knee-and-propose way. seriously, i cannot believe my luck, like how could i have gotten - mmph!"

he let out a muffled groan of shock into your mouth as you pressed a firm kiss to his lips. when you pulled away, you rolled your eyes, grinning from ear to ear. "peter benjamin parker, you're incredibly kind, you know that?"

"correction, i'm incredibly right."

[elleluvsjurin]

Underwater

Hirai Momo x chubby fem!reader

Warnings: smut, cheating(im sorry!!), g!p Momo, oral, p in v, mommy kink ofc

CIS MEN AND MINORS DNI(a/n: pls don’t plagiarize, I worked really hard on this!!)

DISCLAIMER!! this is purely fiction. This does not depict the idol in real life!! I’ll be honest, this is not proofread bc this idea randomly popped in my head at midnight lolll

Synopsis: it’s 2 am and you need to be touched so you call the one person who will come to your rescue.

~ all i need is for you’s to stay and forever you will sway..

You anxiously bite your nails, texting Momo.

You: come over….

Momo: Y/N, it’s 2 in the morning and my girlfriend is asleep

You: please Momo…i need you

Momo: whatever Y/N, I’ll be there in 10

You place your phone down and smile. You’re getting ready when you suddenly hear the doorbell ring. You go downstairs and open your door to see Momo’s figure in the doorway. She looks at you up and down, giving you a slight smirk.

~ I can’t wait babe, what’s it gon’ be? What’s it gon’ be, babe? You should show me…

“Are you going to let me in or are you going to just eye fuck me?” She asks sarcastically. “Oh fuck you” you mutter. She chuckles and replies, “isn’t that what im here for?” You ignore her and move over, letting her in and locking the door behind you. You go upstairs, with Momo following behind you. You purposely move your hips back and forth each time you take a step. Momo eyes your curvy figure as you walk. She smacks your ass, earning a yelp from you. She laughs at the noise you make. Eventually, you get up to your room. You push Momo onto your bed. “Damn, Y/N” Momo says. You chuckle, untying your robe, dropping it to the floor. Maintaining eye contact with her. Momo grabs your hips, pulling you towards her as she softly kisses your soft tummy. “God i missed you Mo..” you trail off. She looks up at you, sincerely, and mumbles, “i know babe” you slowly knee her crotch, feeling her member grow.

~ who can love you like I love you?

You move to the side, letting her take off her clothes. She signals for you to get on your knees in front of her while she stands up. She grabs onto your chin and looks into your eyes, “open your mouth, pretty girl” Momo says. Instantly, you obey her. Slowly opening your mouth for her. She slowly slides into your warm mouth. She lets out a soft grunt and looks down at you, “you look so pretty like this. So pretty, just for mommy.” She praises you as she starts to slowly thrust into your mouth. You lie your tongue flat on the bottom of her length. Making it easier to deepthroat the beautiful woman. Momo lets out a soft moan while she thrusts into your mouth, her tip softly hitting the back of your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut but she grabs your head, harshly pulling your hair. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, look at me” you open your eyes to look up at Momo. Her eyebrows are furrowed but her eyes are loving. Momo rolls her eyes to the back of her head, feeling herself about to climax. Momo thinks about everything going on with her relationship and with you being in the middle of it. She knows it’s wrong, YOU know it’s wrong. But it feels so right. This…you and Momo, were never supposed to happen. You met Momo about a year ago in college. You tutored her but it was nothing more until you started having feelings for her and that’s when all hell broke loose. You didn’t know about her girlfriend at the time. It was only until you and her got done having sex for the first time. Yet, you couldn’t stop sleeping with Momo. It was like the sex was a drug and she was the plug. You were an addict. You just couldn’t help yourself. Momo’s mind is running wild as she feels your lips wrapped around her dick. She’s in awe at how innocent and cute you look while doing a sinful act. She slightly parts her mouth open and lets out the loudest moan while she cums into your mouth. You swallow every drop of her cum. “Holy fuck, Y/N” she breathes out as she helps you up and throws you onto the bed.

~ oh, 낯선 온기 떨림, it's all you

You bend over for Momo, her favorite position. Face down, ass up. She pulls your head up and whispers in your ear, “are you ready for me, hmm babe?” You feel the head of her cock at your entrance. You nod your head to say yes but that’s not enough for Momo. She harshly tugs onto your hair “Words, tell me what you want, pretty girl.” You whimper, “i-i want you to ruin me mommy” Momo chuckles at your adorable state, “good girl” is all she says before slowly sliding into your tight cunt. You close your eyes and wait until she completely bottoms out inside of you. She waits a few seconds before she starts moving back and forth inside of you. You moan out and throw your ass back against her. “F-fuck Mo” you squeak out as she pulls out and harshly thrusts back in. Momo can never get enough of your walls pulling her in even when she tries to pull out. To be honest, your pussy is probably the best pussy she’s ever had in her life. Her girlfriend never makes her feel this good. She furrows her eyebrows, focusing on her movements. Making sure you feel good just as much as she does. The sound of skin clapping and moans fill your room. You and her moans are in perfect harmony. She softly pulls on your hair and smacks your ass as she thrusts in and out at a fast but steady pace. You continue to throw your ass back on her to match her thrusts. “ah fuck…mmh give it me, pretty girl” she moans out. Momo’s thrusts start to get sloppy. You feel her cock pulsating inside of you. “Holy shit, Y/N im gonna cum” she grunts out. “Cum in me mommy!” You scream, purposely clenching around her, forcing her to cum inside of you. Triggering your own orgasm, you cream all over her cock. Momo kisses the back of your head before pulling out of you.

She cleans you up and gives you a small smile. “Y/N I really do like you but i have a girlfriend so we can’t keep doing this” Momo says. You stand up and look her dead in the eyes. “Momo I love you” you say to her. She avoids your gaze and mumbles “I think i love you too, Y/N. You make me feel amazing, even when im not balls deep inside of you. I want to move forward but i need time, ok?” She says and you nod your head. She walks up to you and kisses your forehead, “will you give me time, Y/N? I need to hear your words.” She says, sternly. “Yes Mo.” you mutter. She smiles and grabs your hand, “but for now, i have to go. I need to sort a few things out and im sleepy.” She takes you downstairs and kisses your lips before walking out of your front door. Truthfully so, that would not be your last time seeing Hirai Momo.

(A/N: i do NOT condone cheating but for this particular story, i did it for the plot! This is my first fic in a long time so bare with me, I promise I’ll get better. I might make a part 2 to this fic because i feel like it’ll be interesting. But if you have any requests pls let me know in my messages! Send me feedback but pls don’t be rude abt it! <3)

[blakemcntgomery]

[BLAKE MONTGOMERY. 32. CIS MALE. HE/HIM] is here! They’ve lived in Asbury Park for [32 YEARS] and are originally from [ASBURY PARK, NEW JERSEY]. They are a [FRONT DESK CLERK AT ROSE MOTEL] and in their downtime love [TAX/IDENTITY FRAUD] and [DEEP RESEARCH]. They look a lot like [DAVID CORENSWET] and live in/on [OAKDALE]. The song that makes people think of them the most is [DEVIL’S ADVOCATE BY THE NEIGHBOURHOOD]. 

☆ playlist. ☆ pinterest. ☆ muse. ☆ connections.

━━ ⟢ the basics  full name → blake theodore montgomery birthday → 03/24/1992 big three  → aries sun, sagittarius moon, leo rising 🔥🔥🔥 height  → 6'4" mbti  → entj sexual orientation  → he's not picky 😔 hometown → asbury park, new jersey 

━━ ⟢ personality tidbits - in a nutshell, he's chaos - his emotions overrun his whole life, and it shows - also kinda has a mentality of if he wants to be something he can be without a degree because in the wider sense it's all bullshit and did the dinosaurs have college degrees in business  - that being said, he never sticks with anything long enough to see it through or be dedicated to it, he thinks there's too many options - unfortunately he does fall in love with strangers without knowing them knowing them, and once he does he gets very disappointed and is like “wow how did i miss such a big red flag” meanwhile he's over here looking like a 🚩himself - once a girl he was dating told him he always called people immature or that they were acting like a baby, but really it was him all along who was the immature baby, and that impact it had on him he spent everyday after that proving to himself that wasn't true - he's all about the hustle of getting money, no matter the means  - deep down he's always wondering what his real life purpose is, or if he even has one. he's always combatting himself internally  - he will randomly drop his own lore on people without them asking or saying - he struggles with existential crisis on a daily basis, but mostly about god because he's going back and forth on what the fuck is going on in the universe  - he lacks a filter, or says what everyone's thinking and thinks he's righteous for that  - he may ruin his relationships with everyone, but the one sacred thing in his life is his pets!!!! he loves dogs and cats, and he would die for them or kill for them, no questions asked - he dropped out because he thought he was smarter than his professor - he does what he can to get by because obviously working for a motel front desk doesn't pay all of the bills - whether that's aiding people in tax fraud, or any kind of fraud, intimidation tactics the list runs endlessly - most of the fraud he commits is from the people who check into the motel and it's more or less the skeevy people he can tell aren't the best individuals  - he thinks he wants to be in love, but when he gets into a relationship he's like oh no what the fuck have i done  - thrives when he's living in his own individuality and independence  - screws over a lot of people who were nothing but good to him, friends, relationships, family - deep down he struggles with thinking he's a loser, and he does think about everyone he's ever done wrong, even if he never talks to them about it, or apologizes for what he's done, let alone admit he's done anything wrong - but also he never takes anything super seriously he's like okay calm down we're literally on a floating rock and he disguises his pain with jokes

━━ ⟢ go deeper tw: fire, death, drugs - one of his first core memories is having his feelings invalidated and laughed at by his entire family, from that point on he started to hide his raw emotions.  - he was born into a family of mostly sisters  - i would say he's the black sheep of his family, and the family disappointment wrapped up in one - his family is well off, but they disowned blake when he dropped out of college and he scrapes by because he refuses to go and beg for their help  - his mom and dad are well known psychotherapists and authors, but unfortunately they based most of their writing off of blake  - his parents treated him more like a case study than their child  - they would do things to trigger his reaction, get rid of his pets without so much a warning  - the one time he thought he was having a genuine moment with his dad, he hadn't realized his dad bugged the room to record it and analyze it for data  - after his family cut him off of money, he recklessly broke into their house, robbed them of everything, and set the house on fire, including their cars, etc.  - he hadn't known his sister was inside the house, he purposefully waited outside until he thought everyone was out of the house  - his parents tried to save her as soon as they got back home from dinner, it resulted in his parents being trapped in a room after a beam fell and blocked the door resulting in third degree burns on various parts of their body.  - blake didn't go see them in the hospital, he ran, he laid low for awhile and waited for it all to pass. he paid someone for an alibi, he destroyed any evidence tying it back to him - the following day when his parents and siblings were trying to get ahold of him, he ignored it. he took the money he stole from them and spent it on drugs in a club to try and forget all about it.  - what he didn't know is they were trying to tell him his sister had died from the fire - he didn't go to her funeral, instead he spiraled into what he already knew everyone else thought of him anyway. 

━━ ⟢ connections like i said on sunny's!!! i want all the connections, old classmates, exes, crushes, people he's scammed, people he's worked for to do illegal things for, friends, foes, enemies, people he's robbed, neighbors, people who've checked into the motel, cousins, co workers, situationships, etc etc etc i need it all !!!

[ruminate88]

Healing Journal 06/26/24: More Discoveries

I was backing out of my driveway yesterday and right into an Amazon driver but he was in a regular car, not a truck…. (Thank God) he shouldn’t have been parked in the middle of the street but I guess I was more scatter brained than I realized. I was SO sure the street was clear before I backed out. (I was wrong) The craziest part of it all, the bump against his car was so small and did no real damage. The guy was overly nice about it and said not to worry. I drove away feeling SO FREAKIN TERRIBLE. I beat myself up off and on through out the whole day. I was even more upset to tell my husband about it… but why??

I thought my husband would be upset at me and yell at me… In all my relationships, my exes made me feel bad at every turn. Everything was my fault. Andrew’s stress and fears in college was some how my problem. I was the reason he was going to fail. I couldn’t just share my feelings with him freely. It all goes even deeper than him. Jake was very very critical on me at every turn. Always in my face for YEARS telling me what I’m doing wrong in my life!! But it goes even DEEPER than Jake, back to when I’m in school and made to feel stupid. Made to believe I can do nothing on my own unless a teacher’s aid helps me. I’ve been helpless before. Now I’m grown and doing things for myself!!! I was always scared to drive a car because I never felt smart and didn’t wanna hurt anyone. The fact I am driving at all is a testament to my own strength and smarts if I would just believe in myself. 🥺🫶🏻👏🏻👍🏻

I told myself the right thing do is tell my husband as soon as I get home but inside my head, I’m already prepared for him to be upset and already shielding myself!! 🫣 Yet, I don’t have to. Sure, my husband doesn’t want me hurt, my car damaged or to have to pay for damage on someone else’s car but once I told him the other car was fine and let me go, my husband dropped it. Doesn’t mean he’s happy for what I did but he did NOT yell or put me down. In that moment I started to converse in my head and remind myself, “Your husband is a good guy and not like your exes. Relax.”

My trust has been broken so much in the past, I struggle to even trust myself BUT how do you have a life after betrayals if you DO NOT trust again?? It’s almost a gamble for me. Putting faith in my husband is scary but that’s the only way I can have a relationship with him. He’s started to play Pokémon go again and decided last night he wanted to walk to our park and play an event that lasted an hour. I was already in my pjs and about to clean up dinner. I didn’t go with him and I instantly battle in my head. He told me where he was going and when he would be back…. He followed through as he always does. So, I told myself “You either trust him and make this relationship work or you push him away.”

THEN there is other side of all this where I almost carelessly feel, “If he is lying like Andrew did, then so be it. It’s out of my control.” I mean, my mom has repeatedly tried to convince me my husband doesn’t have time to cheat but I KNOW men can find ways to cheat and you won’t even know it. Only from experiences and heartbreaks, do I feel this way truly. The problem is within me. Not just my husband but trusting the world in general. You don’t see life the same way after emotional abuse. You see people in a very negative light and it’s really unfair because one or two bad apples should not ruin the whole bunch. Right?

Also, I’m my own worst critic. I was so hard on myself after backing into another car because growing up I never felt smart enough or good enough. Jake, Cody and Andrew made me feel just horrible about myself. As an impact of their treatment towards me, I subconsciously accepted their lies and believed I’ve not been good. I’ve never felt like I should have really nice stuff. I feel guilty when I do get nice gifts from people or when people do things for me. I want to give and struggle to recieve. I know what it’s like to be used by selfish individuals and I’m terrified to be selfish, cold or to mistreat anyone. I always fear I’ll hurt my husband and his wonderful parents because I’m so angry at myself and my past. I LOVED Cody and Andrew soooo much and it just feels awful to know they only saw me as this weak and pathetic object they can sexualize and abuse. I KNOW I had worth. That’s why they wanted me to start with. They wanted to feel my worth in their own selves and couldn’t so they tried to tare me down and keep me from feeling my own worth.

Making all these incredible discoveries allows me food for thought. I’ve been hurt sooooo much it’s like I wait for it to happen every day. I feel I give myself to my husband and then deep in the back of my mind, I want to take it back cuz I’m vulnerable and unsure of my reality. I don’t wanna self sabotage anymore. I’ve done it since a child. Always rushing to put my own self down so when others do it, I don’t hurt as bad. It’s amazing to me how life keeps throwing me lesson after lesson and some lessons I get right away and others I have to break them down and visualize them before it makes sense. I STILL would not hurt Andrew as much as he’s wounded me. I know part of me says, “you’re just defending your ex abuser” BUT I mean, my love was pure and genuine. I’m working to regain my trust, my love and respect for myself and my marriage.

ONE DAY AT A TIME ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[baejax-the-great]

WIP Whenever

Listen the Ajax & Patroclus friendship lives almost entirely in my mind but together they are absolute clowns so this snippet is long.

~

“Alright, this was a weird and almost-funny reason to get me over for dinner, but can we cut the shit?”

Pat stares at him. “What?”

“You win for weirdest joke you’ve ever played on me. Kudos for just how deeply he’s chosen to commit to the bit, but can you just invite your new, very jacked, very theatrical boyfriend in here so we can have dinner and I can meet him normally?”

Pat continues staring. “He’s not… this isn’t… Why do you think it’s a joke? What did he say?”

“Almost nothing that I could understand. But 'Achileas?' Really? You should have gone with a different name. I might have played along longer.”

“What do you mean? Who is Ahi… whatever?”

Ajax folds his arms over his chest. “You’re really committed to this, too, then. Fine. Achileas. It comes from the same story as my name. And yours. Come on, Pat, you might be allergic to all things Greek, but I know even you know the name ‘Achilles’ and you can’t have expected me to let that slide.”

The name does ring a bell or two. “One of those demigods,” he says. “The boring one. Didn’t get to fight any monsters. He fought, what, Trojans? With the horse?”

“It’s hard to believe your degree wasn’t in classics sometimes.”

“Well, alright, you recognized the name; you tell me, then. What’s the story? What did he do?”

“I have no idea. I majored in football at college. But I do know Ajax, Achilles, Patroclus, and even your little dog Helen are all from the same ancient tale.”

“You think the dog is in on this? She came with that name.”

Little Helen lifts her head at this and sets herself to begging at Ajax.

“Give it up, Pat. Let it go. Let’s just eat. Achileas!” Ajax calls down the hall. “The jig is up. There's dinner in it for you if you tell me your real name.”

The stranger walks in slowly, still in his toga with Pat’s blanket thrown around his shoulders, eyes once again red-rimmed from crying.

Pat turns back to Ajax. “I understand this is coming from someone who plucked a babbling, crying man off the street and left him in my living room all day, but do you really think I would introduce a boyfriend to you like this?” Pat asks, gesturing with one outstretched hand at the weepy, hot mess he still has no idea what to do with. “It’s like you said, I’m allergic to all things Greek.” He eyes this ‘Achilles’ up and down. “A Greek-spewing demigod cosplayer is about as Greek as it gets, in really weird way that I am deeply not into.”

“He doesn’t speak Greek,” Ajax says.

“Oh.” That would explain the confusion then. Bad translator. Everything Achilles said was pure gibberish anyway, so Pat should have figured that out sooner. It must be a language that can be mistaken for Greek, like Spanish and Portuguese can be mistaken for each other. He feels oddly relieved about that.

But then Ajax goes on to say, “He speaks ancient Greek.” He turns to Achilles. “They should have taught you in your classes that they are not the same, and you wouldn’t fool anyone with this weird act.”

If Achilles understands, he doesn’t react. 

“You’re sure it’s ancient Greek?” Pat asks.

Ajax nods. “I know a few words here and there.”

“Well then can you ask him where he wants to go? Where he lives? God, Ajax, it’s not a joke. I just want to send him home.”

“No.”

“No?”  

“No. If Beowulf walked in here right now, would you be able to have a conversation with him?”

“No.”

Ajax jerks his thumb at Achilles. “Greek Beowulf right there. You’re going to need a classicist if you want to get anything out of him." He adds under his breath, "Or he could just stop fucking around.”

Pat slumps into a chair and drops his face into his hands. “Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do with him now?” he moans.

Maybe Ajax is wrong. Maybe his Greek is worse than he let on. He thought this would be the least painful way to help the stranger, but maybe it’s time to bring him to a hospital or a police department. The pit of his stomach clenches just thinking about it. He doesn’t think he can do it. It doesn’t seem like the right idea.

“This really isn’t a joke?” Ajax asks. “You really don’t know this guy? He just showed up at your work?”

Pat shakes and nods his head without looking up. Ajax puts a hand on his shoulder, and when he speaks again, he sounds furious.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he demands. Pat lifts his head up now to see Achilles, not at all intimidated by what was frankly a scary tone of voice. All seven feet of Ajax is bristling at the stranger, and he points at him and says, “You need to leave. Whatever this is, it isn’t funny.”

[kritischetheologie]

💫 🌿 🎈- grid

(fic writer asks)

I answered the shooting star and the balloon here.

🌿how does creating make you feel?

There's nothing better than the flow state of writing. When the world drops away, and the only thing that exists is the story I'm telling, and the words are actually coming easily, and the thing I'm writing feels important, somehow-- like it will hit people somewhere, and they'll feel something, and it'll be because of me, because of what EYE said-- god, if I could bottle that feeling. If I could bottle that fucking feeling.

I wrote creatively until adolescence, at which point I internalized the write what you know adage, to the point where I decided that as a relatively privileged white girl with no particularly definitive life experiences I must therefore have nothing that I could write creatively about. It took me about 15 years to start writing creatively again, and you can either read that as proof that the old saying was right-- and that at some point, I just hit a critical mass of life experiences-- or say that finding a fandom where I could borrow from other people's experiences, other people's perspectives, where I was freed from the burden of originality or authenticity, was a godsend. My family keep telling me to try to write a Real Novel. The prospect of it fucking terrifies me.

I have a pretty writing-heavy job, now, because I'm, you know, not actually bad at it. But until I started writing fic, I had experienced writing as a slog since college. No, high school. The all-nighters, the deadlines, the malignant perfectionism that causes me to procrastinate, and then dash things off at the last minute, so I can tell myself that if it's bad, at least I didn't try my best. The fear of judgment. I had convinced myself, at some point along the way, that I was bad at writing. You spend enough time feeling like you're failing at something and that happens.

And then I started writing fic, and I remembered how much I fucking love it.

I feel guilty, sometimes, how much I love it.

And yeah. Sometimes it feels like going in with a scalpel and cutting out just enough of your heart to make some blood sacrifice work, but not so much that you bleed out on the table. Sometimes it feels like pulling fucking teeth. Sometimes I catch myself at my old tricks; part of why I'm trying to learn how to edit my work, like really seriously actually fucking revise it, is because it's been a long time since I did anything but get to minimum viable product and ship, and I want to take the risk of actually trying to make something as good as I possibly can. Sometimes I look at the tropes that I overuse, at the way my style is a frankenstein combination of the authors I've read the most, and I wonder whether everyone else is seeing that as well. Sometimes I lift a metaphor from someone else's fic, describe Lewis Hamilton as a mousetrap, and I wonder if I've ever had an original thought in my life.

But I feel like my nine-year-old self again, the one who had a thousand ideas for novels that she wrote in a sparkle spiral notebook with a fuzzy feather-topped pen she bought at the Limited Too. I describe myself as a writer, these days. I always wanted to be a writer when I grew up.

I'm thinking about pivoting in my career, to a job with less writing. I'm sick of being made to feel guilty for not enjoying the shitty version of the thing I love. I had forgotten, or let myself get convinced, that the real version wasn't an option. It's good to be proven wrong.

[wintersoldierbmb]

thursday june 6 i feel like a useless person.

im not depressed and haven’t been for like a year now but i can feel it creeping back in. family drama somehow found a way to me and without saying too much i don’t know who to trust anymore. people really don’t care about me as much as they lie and say they do.

on another note I’m just not motivated to do anything anymore. i wish i could just die. i don’t want to be useless. even though i am in college and stuff i still feel like my life is going to go nowhere and i’ll just be another person existing, taking up everyone else’s oxygen for no reason. i don’t deserve to live if i can’t be useful. i feel like i am incapable of doing the simplest of tasks and that makes me feel like i have no future. i wish someone would get rid of me so i don’t have to kill myself. i wish i didn’t have ADHD. i wish my mind wasn’t on a trillion things at once all the time. i wish i was easy for people to understand. i wish the smallest ripples in how i feel in a moment didn’t have the potential to make my whole day crash and burn. i really wish i was rich, and if not rich then at least normal so that i could be a functioning member of society and be able to get a job or something. i wish i had my own house but i will probably never get one because i can’t save money for the life of me. music isn’t working even though I’ve been consistently doing that since i was born (literally) so there’s another goal in the trash. i have been wasting my time with everything i try to pursue. i should just die.

i’m 19 years old and the only asset i have is the fact that i’m in college. i passed my summer one classes (i think) and i can’t even celebrate it. i can’t bring myself to be happy about that achievement. all i can do is thank God and move on. internally i’m not happy or proud of myself. even now i want to drop out. i am my biggest enemy. i’m not capable of doing things everyone else has learned to do when they were 15, 16, 17 in high school. i don’t think i have an interesting future or even a good one at all. i will die with regrets on how i lived my life. if i grow old, it will be into a life of regret of how lame i was as a youth, and how i didn’t choose to do what everyone else did. my perception on life is very skewed, but i don’t even know how to look at life anymore. i spent so much time being high and under the influence in the past few years that it was the only reality i could function in. now i’m trying to be sober again and not depend on weed to make me a normal person and the only thing it is doing is making me feel like shit inside. my self worth is only high on one day out of the week (probably because i was high that day) and for the rest of the week i feel worthless. if i killed myself i wouldn’t hurt a lot of people except for MAYBE my mom and i don’t want to do that to her.

i feel like something is wrong with me or that i am mentally retarded. everyone else seems to have the necessary brainpower to do everything they need to in life, but here i am being slow in mine. i try every day to improve my work ethic and attitude about living, but my insecurities overwhelm me. all i can think about is how dumb i feel. i feel like a stupid person. i am not intelligent or as intelligent as people make me out to be. if i was in any situation worse than i have been in in my life i probably wouldn’t make it. i thank God every day for always giving me another chance, but i feel sad because i feel like i’m wasting it. He is too merciful to someone who cannot make anything for himself. music is all i have to offer anymore. nothing about me is special or different enough for me to get recognized for. i don’t even feel like a real person anymore. i feel like i’m nobody. i should die soon and quit wasting everyone’s time, but i’m too scared to do it to myself. drugs are the only thing that “restore” me, but thats how you end up being a fucking junkie. i will never be a junkie. i’m hoping one of these days i overdose or get a bad batch of some weed or tale a strange pill or get spiked and die from it. i don’t want torture or deserve a long painful death as i haven’t done anything to earn that. the only thing that i need to do is die. quickly

[thisischannelab3]

by Al Bruno III

Don't squirm so much my wee one. Don’t struggle. Let me hold you close while I work up my nerve. Only a day old and you're fighting to live, well so am I. Isn't that what we all want in the end? Life, a warm place to sleep and a full belly. Well, that's what you've got and what do I have? Nothing I'm just a middle aged man, used up and waiting to die.

Just like you, not that you realize what's coming next of course.

Then again maybe you do understand, you may be blind and confused but maybe you do know somehow. Is that why you keep trying to get free?

This is all because of Eve. We had known each other since college. She was already halfway towards becoming a lawyer and I was a well respected graduate student. You should have seen her. She was so damn beautiful with creamy skin- just like yours. I first saw her in the college library, I was so smitten that I followed her home. Just to see if she was married or living with a boyfriend or something like that. I spent the next few days tracking her, learning whatever I could and once I was sure I knew enough to pass for her soulmate I made my move.

I played my cards just right and won her heart. It was a whirlwind romance, the kind of thing you'll never know my wee one. Maybe that's just as well, maybe if you could you'd thank me for sparing you the heartbreak.

Even now I don't know what went wrong. Was I too agreeable? Too clingy? It doesn't matter. She found someone else. The breakup was an ugly thing, uglier than you my wee one.

She tried to be gentle, she told me we could still be friends. I was so angry, I said terrible things but in the end I took her up on the offer of friendship and hoped she might come to her senses.

I'll never understand women. They're called the fairer sex but everything they do is unfair. How is it time and time again they're drawn to the wrong men? Why couldn't she see that her new boyfriend was all wrong for her? And why for God's sake did she marry him.

Now don't get me wrong, I tried to move on. There were other towns, other girls and no matter how much I learned about them before I made my move I never got as far as I had with Eve.

Was that why I kept coming back to my home town? Was that why I stayed her friend even though the sight of that ring on her finger left my skull pounding with rage?

Calm down now my wee one. I might drop you if you keep struggling so. Is that what you want?

I stayed her friend, I prayed for her to divorce but then it got worse. They were tears of joy in her eyes when she told me she was pregnant. I smiled at the news but in the back of my mind I was calling her a bitch. She never cried for me but she had a fountain of tears for a baby that wasn't even born yet. A baby that at this point was just a lump of cells no better than a tumor.

Some say life begins at conception but I don’t think it begins until you have your first real thought. Until then your just a thing that eats and crawls mindlessly.

It was during her final trimester that I decided something radical needed to be done. I would steal her little baby and I would keep it away until she promised to leave her husband and love me forever.

We would raise the child together. Even though it was another man's I would raise it as my own.

Thanks to things like email and her husband's Facebook page I knew when Eve started to go into labor. I waited about twenty-four hours, and then made my move.

As always I had done my homework, I knew the hospital's routine. I went at night, wearing stolen scrubs and an official-looking ID badge.

I made my way to the nursery convinced that no suspicious eyes would turn my way. I suppose love blinded me in that respect. I barely had the baby in my arms before someone raised an alarm. Escape wasn't easy but I managed to get out of the building. Then I found myself in the middle of a car chase. I knew I could evade the police if I made it to the state park and drove with my headlights off.

The crash was a directionless blur, I thought I was running parallel to the ravine but I ended up careening right into it.

Now here I am, pinned in my car with broken bones poking through the flesh of my legs. I had dared everything and I came away empty handed. Doubtlessly Eve and her husband are cooing over their baby and cursing me for what I had tried to do.

I'm not sure why no one has found me yet, I mean they must be looking but it's been two days and I'm still waiting alone.

Well, I was waiting alone until you came along. The flies must have laid you while I was drifting in and out of consciousness but now my wounded legs are crawling with maggots.

This isn't cruelty, it's just that I'm so hungry and you’re all I have. I'm going to eat you first and then once I’ve gotten the taste for it your brothers and sisters will be joining you by the handful.

I'm going to live through this, and somehow I'm going to get my Eve back.

Somehow. Somehow I'll do it.

Just don't squirm so much my wee one. Don't struggle.

[sanviisstudying]

Like every other jee aspirant out there i started 11th with a zeal like no other IIT was my dream. I met some friends in 11th all of them has businesses to fall back on they were never serious and i just followed into the ditch with them. Don't get me wrong i they were not the only reason i got sidetracked. i was the reason i got sidetracked. It is so easy to put all this blame on my circumstances, my mental state, my friends but owning upto it is what takes real guts. I am intelliegent i could've done so much better. i disspointed everyone around me pathetic ik. Today CBSE results came out you know i prayed and prayed and prayed but nothing changed god didn't listen but tbh i really wasn't deserving of it. i couldn't even pass the 75% criteria ik pathetic again. you know it doesn't hurt that much when you know you couldn't have done it but it hurts so much more when you know you could've i dont care what people say or think but i hate the fact that even after everything i have done every wrong decision i have made even when i had disappointed them again and again and again they still are by my side. i wish i could restart 11th again. You know how everyone has that turning point in their life when they hit rock bottom that is exactly where i am right now. I wasted an entire year because apparently studying wasn't that important. i regret it i wish i could change it but i can't. But the universe has given me another chance, another opportuinity, to rectify everything i did wrong. It is not gonna be easy, It is gonna be so tough. No insta for another year. No going out for another year. But i am the reason for this and i will make sure that this time around next year i will have the applications of my colleges in my hand. i would be studying for advance and hopefully get into IIT i know i can do it. I just chose not to. But now i will give it my all. I will give it my everything. I know i can do it all i need is a little support a little guidance and lot's and lot's of faith on myself on my parents and on my teachers. I DON'T WANNA BECOME ANOTHER STATISTIC NOPE NOT AT ALL. I WANNA BE THE PERSON WHO AGAINST ALL ODDS DID IT. I DONT WANNA BE A LOSER AGAIN.

everytime i lose hope, i feel down, i will come back to this post to remiend of my goals every single day. i will make sure that this drop year will be my year. i wont let it go to waste.

[neverdying-d-e-a-d]

ohgod wjat was that.

hey why do i actively try to burn away and forget my past?

why dont i make an appointment with a therapist already?

i mean

i cant now

what if someone hears me?

...

i n s t i

tu t i o n

a l i z e d

what's that mean?

oh rock music, we're really in it now

okay, its not cool to make portraits of sadness and to self victimize

i dont feel like a victim

i feel like i deserve it all

what

do i mean anything that i write?

i really hope that i don't

or do

eugh

so confusing i'm about to cry

at what point does depression start to become going insane?

is it the same?

eugh..

i mean isnt it insane to want to kill someone? suicidal thoughts?

....

whaaatever.

i have enough love for myself and more

i just wanna talk about the war

._.

it's fucked up

feels redundant to say

but i think im allowed to say obvious things

im allowed to say whatever i want, as long as i think im a good person. right?

sometimes i wish i had parents that taught me to really use my brain

get the thoughts straight

okay

your name is [____ __________]

you feel

uhhh awe shit.

you feel

you feel confused

how are you feeling?

im feeling great.

okay.

your name is [_ _]

you feel

something is wrong

in your head

in the world

in the world

or

no, in your head

or

no, nothings wrong, there is no good or bad or

no, yes there is, you know good from bad.

or, no thats not true wisdom

or, no, thats common knowledge

true wisdom is foolish

or

i always end up knowing nothing

or

um

no, yeah.

your name is ()

you know nothing

you feel light and slightly confused and you feel like if you articulate it well enough you can understand it, you feel convinced

you feel shame remembering that guy feel up your thighs

you feel turned on

noooo you dont. dont kid yourself.

you feel turned on at the idea of you feeling turned on.

you feel basically only real attraction towards yourself

and some men

and

dont tell me youre afraid of women now, too? just because it was a girl what made you so weird as a kid?

point is.

that guy. you liked using him. you wanna hurt him. i honestly dont feel bad about that but i feel like i should

okay, i do

hes a person

so cute too.

but what a rotten little boy

god, its always the lonely emo boys

three times now

ive gotta get scarier, scare them off

no, that. eugh. only attracts them

other boys like boobed people who are non threatening

but those boys...

um

when was the last time you gave one of those boys a real chance? haha.

.

.

.

am i the problem?

sure, why not

....

i dont wanna talk to boys. women. i like women. boys

men and women are basically the same to me i just fear violence and well

....

im not crazy for feeling unsafe around men, am i?

....

i really wish i could ask someone who knows about this

like say, a therapist

eughhh.

im dying

writing is making me feel worse i should go to bed

i dont wanna have a bad dream

but

its okay to do things that scare you

but

it feels different to be in the middle of it all but

but

but

but i live in america

because

because

because my grandfather's editing team are dead

guns bought that ticket

and now im a privileged white british scumbag

living with black mold

maybe thats whats making me feel like this honestly

god i just wanna move somewhere clean

somewhere clean

will this poetry will make me sound insane because it's not beautiful

not worth it to care honestly

i still dont feel better

nono, lets try

im feeling better slowly

yes slowly

quicker now im finally feeling good

no.

im gonna take allergy medication and drop out of college and die on the street

im not really afraid

i dont deserve anything more or less

... right?

[sailoryooons]

Suga's How-To Guide | Tr(eat) Them Right | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 6,096

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Mentions of a breakup, Yoongi is a sex worker, reader has 'meh' sexual experiences, semi-dom / sub dynamics (in how they interact sexually), sexually explicit content including: making out, nipple play, oral (f. receiving) dirty talk, voyeurism, like almost fingering but not quite, cum eating, implied sexual encounters in the future, and literally they are having sex in front of a live audience idk

☾ Published: August 1, 2022

☾ A/N: HAPPY AGUST MY FELLOW SLUTS AND SLOOTS. I have got to be the most unhinged person I know to be taking on this month long Yoongi project, but I am hoping that writing him for a month straight will manifest D-3 or Mint Yoongi. Sorry this is thirty minutes late - ur girl needed to eat some Chipotle because I was starving. This was definitely supposed to be a drabble but.... oops. The rest of the installments will definitely be more drabble style, but I wanted to establish some chemistry and background here. Happy 1st of Agust :)❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Series Masterlist | Part of Hali’s Happy Agust | Next Chapter |

“What?” you ask again, nearly dropping the glass of red wine in your hand. Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed and his pink lips twitch upward. He’s leaning on his elbows on the island countertop in Seokjin’s kitchen. “You want me to what?”

You’re a little buzzed from the wine and embarrassment. Moments ago, you had been playing never have I ever in the living room with your friends. It had resulted in numerous horrifying reveals, including that you had never – and you meant never – had an orgasm from oral.

Now, Yoongi leans on his elbows, an empty wine glass in between the two of you. Your heart skips a beat at Yoongi’s proposal: be on my how-to series. The first episode is oral on people with pussies.

“I said,” he laughs, voice deep and rough, “Be on my series. Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel when someone eats you out.”

Though you want to blame the wine you had sipped on during Seokjin’s birthday dinner for the flush in your face, the heat races through your body, you know it isn’t true. It’s Yoongi that makes you feel drunk, that fills the room with that heated confidence that makes you dizzy.

You’ve known Yoongi for a few years. You’d met him through your best friend Namjoon while you were all in college. He had always been the reserved, quiet man on the edge of your friend group. He always speaks when he feels he has something to say, and he’s more of a listener than he is a contributor.

He’s also a cam boy – and a popular one at that.

You remember how your cheeks flamed when Namjoon told you about Yoongi’s line of work. There’s nothing wrong with being a sex worker, getting off on cameras for thousands of viewers to make a steady income.

Rather – you had blushed because the thought of watching him was more appealing than you wanted to admit. And you’ve managed to not watch him, no matter how many times your friends said he was exquisite on camera, no matter how many times they told you God dammit, he has a beautiful cock.

And now he’s offering to eat you out? Maybe more? You shiver.

Now, standing in the kitchen and watching his dark eyes drink you in, you wish you had watched any of his shows. You have no idea what it entails. You have no idea why Yoongi is propositioning you of all people. Surely other people are more experienced – both in the cam space and in sex.

“Why me?” You hope the question doesn’t sound pitiful. But you can’t stop the words as they escape your mouth. “I’m not… I mean it’s embarrassing, right? Is this like a pity thing?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow and his mouth twists into a grimace. You can’t help but fixate on his lips, a perfect pink pout. You won’t lie to yourself and say that you haven’t thought about them before. You’ve always had a greedy fascination with Yoongi’s quiet banter and soft confidence.

But you had been in a relationship until recently, and those were thoughts you had hidden until now.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Yoongi defends, shaking his head. His long, black hair is hidden underneath a beanie. You have to admit it looks good on him, despite loving how long his hair has been. “This- no. You’re hot, you seem like you were in a disappointing relationship, and honestly? I’ve thought about it before – I'm sorry if that’s weird or makes you feel weird.”

Heat burns through you. You look at the counter, picking at your nails and fighting a grin. Min Yoongi thinks you’re hot. It’s something you’d never thought you hear from him and you don’t hate it.

Chewing on your lip, you shrug. “It doesn’t make me feel weird.” He smirks a bit. “I don’t know. I’ve never…”

“That’s okay. Lots of men and women have never done cam work. Please don’t feel pressured to say yes. I thought…” He shrugs with a sideways grin. “I don’t know, I thought it would be enjoyable. For both of us.”

You look up at him at that. He hasn’t moved an inch, cat-eyes fixated on your every move. Something inside the pit of your stomach flutters. Yoongi is beautiful – unsettling in the way he bites his bottom lip, eyes turning to half-moons as he grins at you.

“Really?”

“Mhmm.” He drums his fingers on the counter. You catch the way the rings glitter. His hands are beautiful, long fingers made to move across instruments as he works on his music, almost ready for release.

You wonder how well Yoongi can play you, can make you sing like one of his instruments. It’s been a long time since a partner made you that explosive pleasure. Your ex, as in love with him as you were, hadn’t been interested in your body in a long time and -

“My eyes are up here.” You flinch, realizing you have been staring at Yoongi’s hands. You clear your throat awkwardly, flashing a nervous smile. “Think about it,” Yoongi concludes. “I know I’ve asked you a really difficult question out of nowhere. I don’t need to have an answer tonight.”

“When do you need an answer?”

“End of the week sound good?” You nod. He grins, all gums and squinted eyes. Your stomach flips as he pushes himself off the counter. “No pressure, okay? I just wanted to ask you.”

You nod. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I always do.”

Yoongi is chuckling and out of the kitchen before you can process his words, too flushed and nervous to analyze their meaning at that moment.

-

I always do.

It’s those words that drove you to text Yoongi four days later. It had taken you over thirty minutes to figure out the words. You typed and re-typed. Finally, you just hit send, throwing your phone across the room, screaming, and running in the other direction.

You barely made it across your apartment before your phone dinged. Hand sweating, you had crept back to the couch, flipping it over to see the text thread.

Me: I think I want to try it out. I promised myself to be more adventurous.

Now, you stand in front of Yoongi’s apartment. It’s in a high-rise looking over the city. You dressed simply per Yoongi’s request: jeans, a t-shirt, and some sneakers. Wiping the sweat from your hands on your jeans, you take a deep breath and knocked.

Soft steps sound behind the door. You hold your breath when the lock flips and the door opens, revealing Yoongi.

For a moment, your brain disconnects. You stare at him, mouth parted slightly. He's in a black t-shirt that’s fitted across his shoulder – broader than you remember – and grey sweats, hands tucked into the pocket. His eyes drink you in, not hiding the way they drag down your figure and back up.

“Hi,” he smirks, leaning on the door frame and opening the door for you to enter. Beyond the door and the delicious man leaning against it, it smells like teakwood and there’s a warm glow. “You look nice.”

You feel the rush of heat up your neck and cheeks. You pass him and murmur an unintelligible greeting, feeling shy as you step by him. He smells like spicy cologne and something specifically Yoongi.

Head swimming, you stand in the entryway as he shuts the door. His apartment is nice. It’s an open floor concept, a large kitchen with granite counters and dark wood cabinets looking toward the living room of warm browns and soft neutrals.

The setting sun paints the world honey as Yoongi locks the door behind you. You feel him when he walks by you, looking down with a small smirk.  He gestures for you to follow him and you do, hands nervously twining your fingers.

His home looks lived in. There’s a coffee mug on the table, a blanket that looks recently used on the couch, and a stack of books on the side table next to the couch.

“What are you reading?” You ask, eyes going to the book you must have interrupted him from. It’s cracked in the middle, open, and face down.

“The Song of Achilles.” His voice is soft and raspy, sending a chill through you. He sits on the couch, scooting to make room for you. “A friend recommended it to me. Have you read it? It’s one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read.”

“’We reached for each other, and I thought of how many nights I had lain awake loving him in silence.’”

“I knew I liked you.”

You gesture to your shoes and Yoongi nods his head. He leans back on the arm of the couch, angling himself toward you with one arm on the back. “So you like me now?”

“Always have.”

Your heart flutters as you slide your shoes off. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Unfortunately, until recently you have been chronically unavailable.” That pulls a laugh out of you. You settle on the edge of the couch, stiff and rod straight. Yoongi raises his brows at you, offering you a disarming smile. “Relax. I asked you to come early so we could talk and you could get comfortable. I’m not going to pounce on you on the couch.”

You let out a breath of laughter. “Sorry, my nerves are eating at me. I don’t mean to be so stiff.”

“Being stiff is my job.”

“Oof, terrible joke.”

“You laughed, though.” His smile is crooked as you lean back, letting your muscles relax. You’ve never been to Yoongi’s apartment before, but you’ve shared couches and close spaces with him before. “How was your presentation?”

You don’t know why it shocks you that he recalls that you’d been complaining about an upcoming presentation at Seokjin’s party. You look down into your lap. “It was good, thanks for asking. The business really liked it and they’re going to partner with us.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“How’s the music going?”

“Good. I’m finishing up on picking a single for the EP. Hobi has been helpful.”

“Do I get a sneak peek?”

He arches a brow. “You haven’t even had a taste and now you want a sneak peek, huh?”

You flush. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, but you’re cute when you’re shy. You want to talk about doing this?”

No. Yes. You were here for a reason. You shoved your anxiety down and nodded your head vigorously. He hummed, drawing your attention to him.

Yoongi had a way of looking at you that made your head feel like white noise. His dark eyes were lit with curiosity, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He looked so at ease and so confident, looking at you with a hundred things unsaid.

You want to feel that kind of confidence. For as long as you’ve known Yoongi, he has walked into every room he’s ever been in knowing who he is, trusting in his instincts. He has always moved through the world with a quiet thunder that you admired.

He looks that way now. Sure of himself. Comfortable.

“Do you have ground rules or tips?” you ask.

He smiles. “Good girl. That’s a great question. Yes to both. First rule is the most important: we stop the moment you’re uncomfortable. We can either use a safe word or a color system to express levels of comfortability.”

“A safe word?”

“Don’t worry – we're not doing that kind of video.” He pauses. “We can talk about that later if you’re ever interested. This is a word – or color – that we can use just to keep you comfortable and safe the entire time.”

“What’s the difference between a word and colors?”

“If you say the safe word, we stop everything and we do not start again. A color system is like a stop light: green you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself, yellow you’re hesitant and need a moment to talk about it or collect yourself, red we stop and do not start again.”

“I think colors make sense.”

He nods. “Good, I prefer that as well. I want to express again: at any time you can use these colors. I will stop immediately. You are my concern today. Not me, not the viewers. Okay?” You nod. “Verbally, please.”

“Okay.”

“Good. The second rule: I don’t use my name when I cam. I use Suga. Think you can remember to use that name if you have to use a name at all?”

“Yes. I don’t want to... use my name or anything either.”

He grins. “Not to worry, I won’t. Can I sit a little closer to you?”

Instead of answering, you shift closer to him. His hand is near your shoulder now, close enough to touch it. Sitting closer to him makes your stomach flip. He smells good and looks better. Your knees are pressed together, both of you sitting at an angle that allows you to look at one another head-on.

“You’re extraordinarily beautiful, you know?”

Your smile is soft. “I already agreed to do this. You don’t have to win me over.”

“I’m not trying to win you over. I’m an honest person who likes to let people know what I’m thinking. And right now I’m thinking that I am extremely happy you agreed to do this.”

“You say things and do things with so much confidence. I admire that.”

He shrugs. His fingers next to your shoulder brush the sleeve of your t-shirt, rubbing the material between his fingers. “I had to learn it. Believe it or not, getting off in front of a camera helps with confidence.”

“Maybe it will for me too.”

“Maybe.”

Yoongi covers a few more ground rules and notes. You start to lose focus, more interested in the way that his rough fingers trace patterns on your arm. You don’t remember lifting your arm to lay along the back of the couch with his, but now that you have, he runs his fingers up and down your warm skin.

Goosebumps scatter on your arm. You looked at the raised hair there as Yoongi’s soft voice puts you in a trance. He’s explained that while he shows his face, you won’t have to show yours. The angle is only chest down or can be stomach down if you prefer. You don’t decide right away.

The streaming series that Yoongi has crafted is a mini-series on how to correctly perform specific sexual acts. The one you’ve volunteered for he has cheekily named How to Tr(eat) Them Right. You smirk at the name and roll your eyes, equal parts charmed and unimpressed.

Unlike most of Yoongi’s streams, this one does not include taking requests from viewers, and though there is a little interaction with his loyal fans, Yoongi’s purpose is to focus on you while providing some educational commentary.

“What do you like?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes draw back up to his where he gives you a smug grin. “I didn’t catch that.”

“You like my fingers?” You chew the inside of your cheek. You try to channel his confidence and nod. “Behave and I’ll get to use them, yeah?”

God, he’s fucking hot. He always has been. Looking at him now, you realize that while dating Michael, your blinders have been off. Everything about Yoongi calls to you now. You feel your breath quicken, your vision focus.

“I asked what you like?” His fingers trail to your wrist, flipping your palm over and running his fingers over the lines there. “Do you have trouble getting off in general with oral, or have your partners done something you don’t enjoy?”

“I don’t have a lot to go off. Honestly, before Michael, I’ve only had one person go down on me.”

He grunts and rolls his eyes. “A shame, truly. You’ve been deprived of something that can be incredibly empowering and pleasurable. Was there anything that ever felt good that you can recall? I’m just trying to see if you have preferences.”

“I just feel like often they don’t know where the clit is?”

“It happens. Not to me, but you know. To others. What else?”

You think. “Sometimes it was treated as a way to get me wet, and they’d just go right to it for a few minutes before deciding it either wasn’t worth it or they were bored? Or maybe something is wrong with me and-”

Yoongi holds up a hand, stopping you short. “There is nothing wrong with you. Please don’t let a man’s selfishness convince you that your body is weird or undesirable. You are beautiful. Even the parts of you I don’t know yet.”

You stare at him. How has the world created Min Yoongi? He tentatively links your fingers with his. His hand is warm. The feeling spreads down your arm to your chest. He makes you feel warm all over.

At that moment, Yoongi is the first person to make you feel like there isn’t something wrong with you. You believe him inherently. You believe in the way he squeezes your hand. In the way he keeps eye contact. In the seriousness of his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “That means a lot to me.”

“It’s just a basic truth that I hope you believe.” He stands, unfolding his limbs and taking your hand with him. He tugs gently. “You ready? I’m just going to show you my room and the camera and everything. See positioning – clothes on. We’ll talk through it a little and I’ll show you how it works.”

You nod. He grins. Hands linked, he takes you to his room.

Cool, dark air greets you. There’s soft lighting from modern sconces on either side of his bed. They glow warm like the salt lamp on top of the desk across from his bed. There’s a camera set up and a small table with a laptop. You can see the soft ring light off the webcam.

You hesitate upon seeing the intimidating setup. It is somehow less than you imagined but still just as threatening when you realize what you’ve agreed to do.

Yoongi steps into your line of sight. He lets go of your hand to cradle your face delicately. His fingertips are gentle as he makes you look at him, his dark eyes searching.

“Color?”

“Green.”

His smile is gummy and he leans forward. You sharply inhale, thinking he’s going to kiss you. His lips brush against your forehead briefly and you immediately want more. You stare after him as he drops his hands from you, launching into his setup: what angles he uses, how you’ll be shot, what kind of light to expect.

It goes in one ear and at the other. You’re watching him intensely. His pink tongue wets his lips between sentences. His ringed fingers run through his long hair went he looks down, causing strands to fall in his eyes. His veins are prominent and shadowed in the low lighting.

Watching him explain every detail awakens something inside of you that you had not been expecting. A hunger for him ignites and you find yourself hypnotized and unhearing. You want him to touch you again. Want to feel gentle hands on your skin, want him to warm your mouth with the soft lips that have only graced your forehead.

Yoongi sees you staring and he laughs at you, crossing his arms over his chest. Had he always been this broad? You’re unsure but you have the itch to slide your hands under his shirt and feel him.

“You’re pouting,” he teases. “Why are you pouting, hmm?” You shrug. He drops his hands to his side and approaches you slowly, gaze growing darker. “Is it because you want me to touch you? Be honest, baby.”

“Yes.”

Yoongi stands so close to you that when you tilt your head up to him, you can feel his breath ghosting over your lips. You can press your lips to his if you move forward just the slightest. But you don’t, breath shaky as you look up at him. The roundness of his cheeks, the sharpness of his eyes.

“I’ll warm you up before we go live,” he whispers. His voice is even darker than before and you shiver. His hands slide around your waist, pulling a sigh out of you. He presses you against his chest. You feel his heart beating wildly against your own. “Color?”

“Green,” you whisper.

“Good.”

When Yoongi kisses you, your anxiety melts away. You can’t remember what you were anxious about before? Something about a camera and being naked on a live stream? None of it matters as he slots his mouth against yours, gentle but sweet.

Yoongi’s lips are soft soft soft. Softer than you ever imagined that they could be. He pulls away from you after the chaste kiss but you make a sound of protest, chasing his mouth that curves into a smile when you pressed your lips against his once more, hungry.

You surprise Yoongi by licking the seam of his mouth, asking for entrance. He opens his mouth to you, letting you kiss him soft and slow. He tastes like spearmint and heaven. Your hands curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, sliding through the silky soft strands as his tongue brushes yours.

Fuck Min Yoongi knows how to kiss. After letting you lead initially, he takes control of the kiss, shifting you so that he’s leading you back to his bed. His hands are on the small of your back, leaning you down, hands reverent. He separates just for a moment, giving you long enough time to blink up at him, stars in your eyes.

“Fuck you’re cute,” he rasps, grinning as he gives you a peck. And then another. Yoongi leans on his forearms, placing them on either side of your head. He makes room for himself between your legs. You let them fall open as he slots himself, pelvis pressed against your core where you’re already needy. “We won’t start until I think you’re ready and until you’re in bras and panties, yeah?”

You giggle and he arches a brow at you. “The words panties is so not sexy.”

He hums, leaning down to nip at the bottom of your lip. “Careful or I’m not going to let you cum.”

Your eyes go round as you look up from him. He grins at you before lowering himself again, catching your lips in another kiss. This one is searing and needy, all tongue as Yoongi’s right hand leaves the bed to trace the skin of your hip, fingers tentatively drifting under your shirt.

Yoongi makes you dizzy. You moan into his mouth when he rolls his hips into yours. Your hips twitch upward, seeking friction. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

More. You want more.

Kissing him makes you feel drunk. You barely register how he peels your shirt off your body and tosses it. You’re only dimly aware when he slides your jeans down your legs. You’re too busy writhing under him as he kisses your jaw down to your neck where his teeth nip into your sensitive flesh.

Fuck you have never been this turned on and he’s barely done anything.

Yoongi’s hands skate up your sides as his tongue licks the freshly bitten skin of your throat and collarbones. He grips you gently over your thin bra, thumbs brushing back and forth over your hardening nipples. It draws a loud moan from you, making him pull back slightly and look down at you.

In a haze, you look up at him. His lips are swollen and bitten from you nipping and sucking his bottom lip. His thumbs continue to brush over your sensitive nipples, making you shiver underneath his touch.

You cannot recall another partner ever making you feel this way. Ever.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re gonna be the death of me. Sound so fucking sweet when you moan like that.”

“Feels good.”

He lowers his face toward your chest, charcoal eyes flickering up at you as he sticks his tongue out of his mouth, taking one, tentative lick at your nipple through your bra. Your chest arches towards his mouth, making him laugh as you let out a breathy sound.

“Sensitive?”

“Yes, fuck.”

“Good.” His hands slip under you toward the clasp of your bra. His glossy lips hover just above your bra as he asks, “Color?”

“Green.”

“Good to take this off?” You nod. Yoongi pulls the fabric off your chest, the cold air making you shake. You’re shy for just a moment, gripping his biceps a little firmer to keep you from covering yourself. He drinks you in and shakes his head. “Fucking perfect.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat. He dives in, wrapping his hot mouth around a nipple and sucking hard. You curse underneath him. His tongue circles your bud, sending electric currents through your body while he lightly tweaks the other with his hands.

He pulls his mouth from you, plum lips slick with spit. He runs his tongue across the middle of your chest, making you bow into him. Everything feels so good. His hands. His mouth. His tongue. His breath on your skin. The way his hair tickles you as he pulls at your nipple gently with his teeth.

Yoongi drops a hand between your legs, gently brushing his fingers against your clothed folds. You’re already dripping for him, sticking to your panties like honey. He moans against you, the hum stimulating him further.

With wet lips and quick breaths, he kisses his way back up to your neck, pressing a firm, close-mouth kiss to your lips. “Gonna pull you down to where I need you, okay?” You nod. You feel like the room is spinning as he kisses your jaw while wrapping his arms around your legs. “I’ll get pillows to prop you up. Just a few more minutes and I’ll start, okay? I have to talk a little bit, but just focus on me, yeah?”

With a heavy nod, you do as he says. Yoongi props pillows behind you, stealing a kiss on the way. You can’t get enough of him. Lips, hands, teeth seeking him. He indulges, letting you distract him a few moments more as your tongues tangle in the sweetness of one another.

When he pulls away, he brushes his nose against yours. “It’s just you and me,” he whispers. “I’m gonna start. Color?”

Your heart thunders in your ears. This is your last moment to back out. You realize what you’ve agreed to do and suddenly, you begin to worry. You look up at Yoongi – his blown pupils, the tiny sheen of sweat on his brow, the swollen lips, and hungry gaze.

And you remember that you can stop any time.

With trembling lips and unsteady hands, you murmur, “Green.”

His smile is gentle and sweet on the edges. He kisses your brows and drops down to the floor to his knees. You watch, fascinated as he opens the laptop and clicks around. There are no extra lights. It’s just the glow of the laptop and soft ring light, and the amber sconces that bathe the room in shadows and gold.

You can feel your breath shuttering in and out of your lungs as he grins at the camera. He reaches out a hand as he begins to talk, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He glances at you briefly to check in on you and you nod, only focused on Yoongi and not the camera.

There is the curiosity to look, but you don’t. Not yet.

Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat. His hand is a soft wave against the shore, rubbing up your thigh and then back. Every time he strokes upward toward your thigh, he gets a little closer to your panty line, you realized.

With furrowed brows, you realize that he’s still teasing you even while he mentions some of his more popular viewers. Reminds them that while this live is supposed to be educational, it’s also about you and your pleasure, so he’ll only provide context when he feels like it’s needed.

Deep laughter draws you out of your thoughts. Yoongi is situated between your thighs as he turns away from the laptop, kissing your knee gently. His eyes find you and they’re glittering, as though you’re the only thing that matters right now.

“Our volunteer would like to remain anonymous, PJM13,” Yoongi answers. He nips your thigh and your legs shake. “But I do agree. Her thighs are fucking glorious.”

Using both hands, Yoongi rubs up and down your legs. He lifts himself slightly, just enough to reach up and kiss you again. You know they can’t see your face – he must be okay with vanishing out of frame as he sucks on your tongue, drawing a pretty sound from you.

When Yoongi pulls away, he nips your nose lightly, making you huff a laugh. Your stomach is curling and your pussy has started to ache. You need him. A whine escapes you as you sink back down. He notices. His lips curl.

“The first rule to eating pussy,” Yoongi murmurs just loud enough for the mic to pick up. “Is that whether it’s the end game or it’s the start of your sexual encounter, you still need to lead up to it. You can’t just give in and expect them to enjoy it. There is foreplay to the foreplay.”

Carefully, both of Yoongi’s hands drift to your waist and stop on your underwear line. He looks up at you with a question in his eyes. You don’t even care that you’re about to bare your pussy to an entire live audience. Yoongi has you worked up and distracted, so hot and bothered under his gaze that you don’t hesitate to nod.

With a quick kiss on your inner thigh, his fingers curl under the fabric and slowly pulls them down.

“My prefer method of foreplay to the foreplay,” Yoongi continues. “It’s touching. Kiss them, make them feel good. Kiss the neck, the jaw, the ear. Tell them how beautiful they, are worship them and make them feel safe.”

Yoongi tosses your underwear somewhere and his eyes drop down to your glistening eat. Your legs twitch shut and he looks up at you, waiting to see if you need to stop. You take a steadying breath and let your legs relax as Yoongi drops his gaze down.

“Fucking hell,” he says – more to you than to anyone else. “Such a pretty fucking pussy. So nice and wet. That for me?”

He looks up at you for an answer. Instead of nodding, you take a breath and murmur, “Yes.”

His grin is dazzling, hands still caressing you. “Communication is key,” he tells you – or maybe the audience you’re not sure. “Do you want it slow or fast?”

“Slow.”

He hums and begins kissing your thighs. Your head falls back under his touch. You can hear him say something about you shouldn’t put your mouth near someone’s cunt if they’re not at least a little wet. Or if they have trouble getting wet without a mouth, to use a little flavored lube – never spit – he admonishes a comment. Spit will make your mouth dry.

When you feel his breath over your center, your head snaps up. You had not realized how much you were trembling. Yoongi lowers his mouth, saying nothing as he sticks his tongue out, grinning before he slowly licks you from hole to clit.

You drop your head back and moan loudly. You don’t remember even the first lick feeling this way when others went down on you. Your muscles clench as Yoongi dips down and repeats the motion, slowly licking through your folds until he circles your clit a few times, tongue tracing lazily.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Tastes so fucking good. You have no idea how hard it is not to just devour you right now.” With amusement in his eyes, Yoongi watches your reaction as he tongues your entrance, tracing the ring of muscles with his tongue teasingly. You whine loudly, wiggling your hips. He grips your thighs firmly. “Slow is always a good pace to start at,” Yoongi says softly. “Savor the taste. Let them feel the build. Apply the tortoise and the hair here.”

You hardly notice the way Yoongi murmurs between curious licks. You think he’s saying what he’s doing – you’re not too sure. All you know is that he flicks his tongue over your clit gently at first, onyx eyes focused on you as he watches your reactions. You’re panting, finding it hard to breathe as he applies a little more pressure.

Yoongi’s grip on your thighs turns to caressing again as he closes his mouth around your clit and sucks gently. You jerk forward at the pleasure that shoots through you like an arrow. He seems startled but doesn’t let go, sucking greedily as one hand traces up your stomach to your chest, pushing you back down softly.

Piece by piece, you fall apart. Yoongi alternates between sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue expertly, and tracing his tongue back down to fuck you with it. Your pussy clenches around nothing, squirming and worked up.

Worked up is putting it lightly. As his commentary dies down, he focuses more on you. Drinks you in. Makes wet, lewd noises as he makes his ministrations firmer, faster. He eats you out vigorously. Presses his mouth into you, and lets your juices drip down his chin.

Yoongi’s mouth is swollen and glossy and he doesn’t seem to care, closing his eyes and enjoying himself. He hums as he licks and sucks at you. He matches your light moans with his dark timbre, grunting when you twitch and roll your hips into his mouth.

An orgasm builds slowly, but like a storm. You feel it building in pressure. Curses and words that don’t make sense leave your mouth. Your thighs begin to shake as Yoongi sucks your clit harder.

“Please,” you beg, voice strained. “Holy fuck please.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi asks, panting as he drags his tongue up you once. Twice. “Gonna cum for me?” You’re nodding helplessly. He brings a hand down, a single finger playing with your hole. You let out a cry, gasping for air as your hips twist. “Such a pretty little hole. Wanna feel you cum on my face before you get my fingers.”

It barely registers that Yoongi is implying he wants to do more than make you fall apart at the seams with his tongue. He brings his mouth back down to you, shutting his eyes as he lavishes you with his tongue.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m gonna- god damn fucking shit.”

Everything goes taught like a wire. You can’t breathe. Your thighs clench, your hands shoot to his hair and grab a hold of his locks, making him moan into you. Your toes curl and for a moment, there is no sound but the roaring of blood in your ears.

The storm clouds break open and you melt into your orgasm. It’s like the sky has opened, the wind rushing to sweep you away. You collapse into the bed with a loud shout – you don’t even know if the shout was loud or if everything is oversensitive.

Yoongi licks you through your orgasm, not wasting a drop. You’re gasping for air when his tongue circles your clit again. You whine and he laughs, pulling his face from your center and kissing up your stomach and chest, leaving a glassy trail of spit and cum in his wake.

When he meets your lips, you lean up toward him, hands grabbing his face. You smash your lips against him, tasting yourself – sweet and tangy – on his mouth. You’re greedy for him, absolutely gluttonous.

“Fuck,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. “You are so fucking hot, babe.”

The endearment sears through you like lightning. “That was so fucking good,” you whisper, holding his face between your hands. “God that was so good.”

He grins. “That?” He pecks your lips again. “How do you feel about showing them how to do one more? And then maybe we can talk about another guest feature, hmm?”

“Fuck,” you gasp as Yoongi sucks the sensitive spot on your neck. “Please.”

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