#maybe life starts at conception. who fucking knows. not me. but it doesn’t matter anyway. consent is what matters.

[rockyroadkylers]

WIP Wednesday!

I was tagged by @ssmtskw and @littlemisskittentoes this time! (both your fics look SO GOOD)

I'm really excited this week because. Okay, listen. I started a new WIP. I had, like, five already, but we were talking in the server last week about how there are almost no "Alex fell first" fics, which is kind of understandable because it's hard to come up with a scenario where it would be him instead of Henry, BUT! I was thinking about it a couple days ago, and I swear, it was an actual lightbulb moment.

Everyone who's read the book knows Alex had a massive crush on Henry way before he realized it for himself, and I'm convinced that crush goes all the way back to the days of J14 magazine. I mean, come on, sneaking into June's room to touch a picture of Henry's hair? Multiple times? 😂 Alex, bless your heart, babe.

Anyway, that led my train of thought to Alex getting snubbed at Rio, and the whole concept of unrequited crushes, and then came the lightbulb moment: Hanahaki AU. I've seen a few where Henry has it, but only, like, one where Alex does. And now there will be another! This is not the kind of vibe I usually go for with my writing, but it's been fun to branch out!

It's, um, slightly evil (big whumpy angst vibes), as I have already been told several times by multiple people in the server who have seen snippets, but I'm having so much fun writing it. So, here's a snippet from my newest WIP, which will either be titled "i picked the petals, he loves me not" OR "come and meet me in my garden"

---

Alex has been snubbed by political peers plenty of times before, and he would be probably snubbed by plenty more, but for some reason this rejection had hurt a hell of a lot more than any other. His heart had dropped into his stomach when Henry turned away from him, with that look on his face like if he didn’t get away from Alex fast enough, he might give him fleas.

The thing is (and it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, even to himself), Alex used to look up to Henry. Until pretty recently, as a matter of fact.

Recently, as in, about two hours ago.

He’d always been aware of Prince Henry as a general concept. The royal family is always in the news for some reason or another, so Alex grew up seeing candid shots of Henry with his parents and siblings in magazine spreads, in waiting rooms and grocery store check-outs. But he can still remember the first time he saw a picture of Henry in one of June’s magazines where he hadn’t been with the rest of his family, just featured on his own in one of those locker-sized tear-out posters, with his name printed across the page in big block lettering and a little blurb about his hobbies in the corner. Henry had looked so bright, and happy, and full of life, and easy-going. Alex had been maybe a little bit obsessed with that picture for… a solid two years. Though his obsession with the boy in the picture ended up lasting much longer.

For all the fucking good it did him, in the end.

How does the saying go? Never meet your heroes. Alex gets it, now.

If Henry really is the reason he’s spending his evening coughing up flowers instead of getting wasted at the diving finals with his sister and best friend, Alex doesn’t know if he should be madder at Henry for being a dick, or at himself for being naive enough to believe they could be friends.

---

I think I've already seen some of these people's posts on my dash today, but I'm gonna go ahead and tag @read-and-write-, @suseagull04, @affectionatelyrs, @inexplicablymine, and @anincompletelist!

[depressed-teacup-inc]

Wow the Love Square is a mess no matter what

Ok kids exaltation is out, and…oh boy.

Listen, first of all, I know people who like Marichat never get any canon content from miraculous so first of all, congrats to them for having nice things, I hope y’all enjoyed the episode

I… found it a little, just a bit upsetting from Marinette’s part (wow I know what I shocker)

Listen. I don’t hate the love square as a concept. On paper this relationship could have been really entertaining and fun and finally seeing the reverse love square is a nice change of pace. But this episode, especially when you take all the previous season of this show into account, and everything that happened… makes me uncomfortable.

Because Ladybug for 4 season, would always scream at chat Noir to quit being in love with her and to reveal nothing about his identity (even tho the identity rule literally doesn’t matter anymore) now that she wants him (because he’s convenient to her and rather then realized she fucked up because she’s obsessed, not because of Adrien, and that she should take a minute to maybe not date people, but no let’s throw your emotions on the closest male) and he’s like “w-what? What’s the trick here? Didn’t you say it’s dangerous?” She’s like “ohhhh my life is so hardddd why doesn’t he love meeee” YOU HAD YOUR GODDAMN CHANCE TO BE A DECENT HUMAN BEING TO HIM AND YOU MESSED THAT UP

And then with Adrien, she’s outwardly rude, saying on speaker (I’m so glad he didn’t hear her) that he’s a school friend and that tell him that we’re not in school and that he should leave?! Like holy fucking shit, you really don’t know how to treat either personas of the boy with respect! You either obsessed and insist on dating and make creepy fantasies, or be extremely rude to their face!

And then when Chat Noir does what Ladybug told him, and respects and loves marinette so much to the point where he’s like “I am not taking advantage of you like this especially because you don’t know my identity” she legit starts screaming and crying about why everyone controls her and why she doesn’t get to choose who to love!

Marinette is exhibiting every single behavior chat had, to an even more extreme degree, that had people hating him and saying he can’t take no as an answer, and had the show constantly beat him up for!!! But when Marinette does it?! “Oh my god I’m so sorry I shouldn’t dictate who you love”

LIKE THE DOUBLE STANDARD IN THIS FUCKING SHOW SHES LITERALLY DOING ALL THE THINGS THAT PEOPLE AND THE SHOW CRITICIZED CHAT FOR BUT ITS OK BECAUSE SHES MARINETTE

And what’s the lesson from this episode kids? “They should do whatever makes them happy”. Not “hey maybe a civilian hero relationship would be dangerous” not “hey Marinette why are you super in love with me out of nowhere” or “hey Chat is right taking advantage of someone like this and getting into a relationship when one person holds more power over the other is a dangerous an unhealthy thing to do”

The lesson is that Marinette’s always right and whatever she feels right now is ok and right and everyone should listen to her always and forever and just be happy for her. Hooray.

Anyways adrien still manages to be more respectful and kind then marinette ever was (even just kindly asking where Marinette is, rather then immediately declaring his love, and being very cordial to ladybug, and not getting mad at her for flirting), Glaciator got akumatized over stupid shit but ok, and Plagg and Tikki be carrying the show (with the addition of Alya, marinette should not have screamed at my girl like this)

[whoiwanttoday]

Becky G performed at the all-star game, or maybe the lead up to the all-star game, this weekend. I did not even know it was happening. Like, intellectually I know it happens in the summer so it's the time of the year but I had completely forgotten I am so checked out on that sort of thing now. Which is wild because there was a time as a kid I was obsessed with the All-Star game. I voted for it, tracked voting numbers in the paper (the USA today, not like the real newspaper but the second paper my dad got just because they had better box scores for his fantasy teams). That is because to a child the idea was amazing. Not only did I have some control over who made it (something I took very seriously. I despised people who just voted for their home team. I would sit there for an hour plus pouring over stats to make sure I only voted for the most deserving person at each position. I really only knew the AL well so it was like homework getting those NL votes in but I could think of no greater sin than not doing the work and thus polluting something as scared as my all-star ballot) but also this was going to pit the best players in the world against one another. It was hard to believe that anyone would not care about an event so huge. It's like of Godzilla and Superman fought, you wouldn't go, "I'm not into fighting, I don't care". You'd care. Of course, now I do not care because as I got older I realized the entire endeavor robs sport of what makes it special because no one cares who wins. No one is really trying all that hard. It's some millionaires chumming about with their kids and video cameras and goofing off. The whole thing made me feel cheap when I realized no one was trying and if no one is trying then the results don't matter. In general I soured on baseball as I got older and realized the purity that the game preached was a lie anyway. Sort of an important life lesson there, anyone that tries to sell you a pristine dream based on tradition and history is likely full of shit. Abner Doubleday didn't even invent the sport, they just wanted to pretend he did so they had a clean origin story. I guess it's why it's America's passtime, it's a metaphor for our life and history. Anyway, all that said now that I am an adult I can see things more clearly and I am here to tell you that Becky G is really hot. Baseball can't ruin that shit! Oh, baseball loves it's stats and numbers and quantifying things (don't get me started on people telling me they pythagorean record record shows luck. Luck is a concept, not a number and cannot be quantified. The pythagorean record actually shows the difference between wins and expected wins based on run differential so it doesn't show luck, it shows that over a certain sample size numbers will never conform to a formula and there is expected deviation from it. That's what it shows you fucking chodes) but I am not here to quantify hotness. Like, I could create a scale of not hot to very hot and confidently say she would land on the very hot spectrum but who does that serve? No one, it's stupid. Ranking shit is stupid. She is attractive and in this moment stood out to me as someone who I should post. She looks good in a letterman's jacket as well. Today I want to fuck Becky G.

[loveclub24]

About You

I’ve realized the only way I can get myself to actually write is by using this blog (I mean... let’s hope it works. It’s working today at the very least, so I’ll take it.) So, from now on, I’m going to use this as my personal journal. I don’t think anyone will ever even read this blog, which honestly is the point, because I’m going to be baring my soul. I realize that the last few years, I haven’t done enough self-reflection - as in, not much journaling, writing, reflecting, etc. Or at least reflecting in the way that I usually would. I really want to try to change that and maybe “blogging” will help me. 

Earlier today, my therapist told me that tonight I should light a candle and do a little bit of journaling, so I’m going to try doing that now. I lit one of my pumpkin candles that is truly at the end of its life, and I’m sitting in my cozy living room with string lights on on a rainy day. It really is a perfect scene. I have my headphones on, listening to the 1975, which is actually the inspiration for the title of this post. 

Something I’ve been really reflecting on lately is that it has been almost 10 years of being a die-hard 75 fan. I was freshly 18 when I started listening to their Self-Titled album, and now I’m ~almost~ 27 years old. God, that is so crazy to type. My 18 year old self would think that I’m old as fuck, but that's the funny thing about growing up - isn’t it. 27 is not nearly as old as you think its going to feel when you’re a teenager. Anyways, Being Funny in a Foreign Language (BFIAFL) came out a few weeks ago, and I’ve truly been in such a nostalgic tizzy ever since. I can’t stop listening to the goddamn band, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I’ve grown as a person since I started listening to them. 

About You, one of the songs from BFIAFL that seems to be a favorite for hardcore 75 fans, is an answer to Robbers, one of the most iconic songs from self-titled era. The moment I discovered this (as in, read it on the genius notes on Spotify when I first listened to the album), I about lost my fucking mind because I knew I was about to go on a deep dive into “The Tumblr Era” that we’ve so affectionally called 2014-ish. Robbers is about a toxic relationship, a Bonnie and Clyde sort of story. It’s that kind of relationship that is easy to idolize in our younger years - we want the highs, the lows, the pain, the strife - and we want to romanticize it all. That is Robbers - its about a relationship that isn’t healthy, it doesn’t work, but it is ~aesthetic~ as fuck. And honestly, I’m not even a person who was super into romanticizing those kind of relationships in my younger years. I definitely had my fair share of them, but I think I knew what I was looking for - which was stability, slow, soft love. But still, there is something about our youth that makes us prone to a special yearning for the chaos (and perhaps, this yearning always lingers with us even in our adult year, i.e. now....). 

But, all to say, when I first listened to About You, I was focusing on this concept of it being a response to Robbers. Do you think I have forgotten about you? Matty sings repeatedly throughout the song. I miss you on the train / I miss you in the morning / I never know what to think about (I think about you). It is simple to take this fucking gorgeous song, About You, and see it within the confines of this relationship - how this person has never forgotten about this relationship. Even though it didn’t work, it still holds so much significance to this person. No, they have not forgotten about it. God... even that, just fucking hurt me when I first listened to it. I pictured myself being 17 again, and pictured each person I’d loved, lost, hated, fucked, throughout the past decade of my life and how each of these people were a part of my story, apart of my life, no matter how small. I know a place / it’s somewhere I go when I need to remember your face. It’s this simple reassurance of no, I have not forgotten about you and I still think about you sometimes. 

But what is truly beautiful about this song is that it is not a resolution, it’s not a perfect ending of the story of two lovers who keep missing each other. It is almost an acceptance, a raw, real one, of the fact that this relationship can’t work, and these two lovers aren’t meant to be. It may slightly romanticize this time in life, but the resolution of this song is that even if they won’t ever be together, they still haven’t forgotten about that person, that relationship, that friendship (whatever it may be) and they acknowledge the impact it made on their life (for better, for worse, for apathy, for chaos... whatever). And sometimes, that is enough closure in itself. 

However, a few more listens of this song later, I realized that the real significance of this song laid far beyond the confines of understanding it in terms of the “relationship” story that was being told. This song was a love letter to the fans, a love letter to the people that have grown up with this band, a love letter to each person who listens to it. Do you think I have forgotten about you? I instantly pictured myself - 18 years old - after having had my heart absolutely shattered by my high school boyfriend. I remember listening to self-titled in my car, eating fray, feeling so heartbroken yet so excited that I had found a record that resonated with me in a way so wholly that this one did. I remember graduating high school, I remember the summer before college, I remember going on late night drives with my best friends, I remember moving across the country for college and making new friends. This song isn’t just about remembering a dysfunctional relationship that was romanticized at the time, it was about remembering the person I was at the time and how I am still that person. God, when I realized that, I sobbed for so long. 

Sometimes, when I get caught up in the mundanity of every day life, I forget who I was when I was 18. Who I was when I went to a music festival for the first time and danced with my friends and felt pure joy; who I was when realized I was going to college and that everything was going to change. So, thank you to the 1975 for growing with me for the past (almost) 10 years of my life and for making music that I’ve been able to connect with in a way I never imagined I would. Thanks for witnessing all my fuck-ups, triumphs - the good, the bad, the ugly. Your music was there for all of it, and thank you for writing an album that is such an ode to our years together. I hadn’t actively thought about my teenage self for so long, and now I’m going to make an effort to remember her as often as I can. She had no idea what was in store for her - college, heartbreak, a pandemic, insomnia, jobs that caused her to lose herself, love, the best friends in the whole world, the best family in the whole world. I’m so grateful for it all. 

Also, one thing I want to add. Sometimes I feel slightly embarrassed about how much of a fangirl I am about this band, and have cringed at myself a few times even while writing this just now. But, I just want to reiterate for myself that being passionate is amazing, and so much fun. I’ve really felt a renewed sense of passion and enjoyment in the past few weeks during this 1975 heavy phase in my life. So here am I to say FUCK what everyone thinks... I’m going to write about how much I love this motherfucking band if I want to. 

[lovecraftian-lolita]

The entire psychology world approves of age regression as a coping mechanism. I don't get this hate. Every single Japanese fashion blog I want to follow has age regressors on their dni. I am hugely anti kink, anti sex and anti bdsm... but I am also an age regressor as an autistic person who developmentally arrested. I can't help what I do. It feels like shit to be left out even though Angelic Pretty and BTSSB have baby themed prints themselves...

Anyway please block me so I don't interact with your account. As an age regressor who agrees with almost everything on your dni it's deeply upsetting to see something I can't help lumped in with actual toxic things.

You said it on anon dipshit lol

Anyway class, who wants to say why Lolita’s don’t like age regressors cause I said this shit so many times im gonna start putting my ko-fi here so y’all can start paying me for each time y’all ask this question.

Doesn’t matter if the psychology world approves it, Lolita’s don’t! You know what’s toxic? Not respecting someone’s dni

A toy themed print doesn’t automatically mean age regression, how many times do we have to fucking say this god damn y’all wonder why we have dni in our posts

If you notice a pattern of Lolita’s SPECIFICALLY saying they don’t wanna interact with someone who age regresses or the concept in general, maybe check why! Cause almost every lolita I know doesn’t wanna be associated with that shit. Good, bad, doesn’t matter.

Age regressors can’t respect peoples boundaries for shit I’m learning.

Also im not anti Sex nor anti bdsm nor anti kink? I’m like, pro all of this shit I just don’t want it near lolita fashion??? You have so much unpacking and therapy to go through it’s unreal. I have a life outside of my fashion and i know the appropriate time for things.

Yall wanna push our boundaries soooooooo bad because you can’t get ur fuckin way just like every other community.

Now pay up and buy me brand for making me answer this fucking ask another god damn time.

[wiw3]

You’re Not Special

I’m going to mentally whip myself here for a moment because I feel like I deserve it, I’m not holding myself as accountable as I should to who I claim to be, and more or less, not being true to my word. I think it’s important that I get this out and then read it sober, later... That’s what a good person would do, right?

So here we go. I’m going to give it to myself pretty good, here. I say I, right now, but let’s switch to you.

Fuck you, man. Who the fuck do you think you are? You need to get your shit together, and other expletive-filled clichés that don’t really help you. You pull to Dan Harmon’s podcast. You idolize the idea of being able to perpetually destroy and redeem yourself cyclically... because it means someone like you might have hope. You also think that listening to it makes you unique or gives you some kind of unique perception. It doesn’t. It doesn’t make you special, you’re just another person getting too invested into a podcaster’s and celebrity’s life. It’s creepy and you should stop it.

It means that someone like you might be able to make it in the same profession. You love TV, and there would be more than tears if you one day found out that you couldn’t do it anymore, or at all. Rejection would be hard, but that’s what makes it worth it. You only do things worth doing anyway, because I know you. Or, you know you.

You shouldn’t have stopped writing this and allowed yourself to sober up a little because this is starting to become one of those long rants, and you don’t really want to think right now. You may come back to this later, you may never come back to anything ever again, but you need to know that nothing you do matters. The world is merciless and you need to let go of the fact that you... effectively control nothing, writ large. You control your own autonomy, and really, there are individuals who would call the validity of that statement into question.

The answer is that none of it matters, get drunk, set fire to things, except you don’t drink and you’re afraid of fires. California would be perfect for you, if not for a serious concept of institutionalized alcoholism. You’re droning on, now. You have a map to make for a friend, and it’s looking good so far. Strike up another joint you wrapped out of a cigarette you stole from your parents, and get that map done, asshole. You fucking degenerate piece of shit loser. Everyone was right about you, and you’ll never amount to anything.

.

.

.

Okay... You can breathe, now, breathe in, out, and wake up! Boom, You’re awake. It’s okay... It’s all okay. No, no, it’s okay to cry just let it out, but you’re fine... You just needed to indulge in the melodrama for a bit to get it out of your head before work tomorrow. You’re hungry for something other than Fruity Pebbles cereal, but you smell like weed and your strict, no-nonsense father is doing orientation in the kitchen for some inane reason. Ask mom to get you some real food. She always pulls through... You love her more than you let on, but feel as if something was taken from you when you were very little by the two of them and you haven’t been able to trust them since... Maybe you’ll never trust them again... Then again, the thought enters your head that even if she was in the middle of work, she’d stop to make you something if you were hungry. Maybe she just likes being needed. I’d cry like a baby at her funeral, or maybe I wouldn’t, there’s no way to know. Just sit down and work on the map, you sissy Mary. There’re things that require your attention.

Sincerely,

Me.

[thewestern]

Chapter 11

Currently outnumbered five-to-one by salaried employees, The Cowboy just so happened to be the sole paying customer in the place. Although only the two bartenders were technically on the clock. The Mick would have otherwise cut one or both of them, on a slow night such as this, but alas, they were one another’s ride. Louisa and Thadeus Jackson (a.k.a. Thad and Lulu, Leej and Teej, etc.) were twin sister and brother, respectively. They interviewed with Hank in tandem, who was plain tickled by the notion of having a set of twins tending his bar, even if they weren’t identical, which he would have preferred. Hypothesizing that their prenatal telepathy — twintuition, if you will — would elevate their efficiency on even the busiest of shifts, Hank considered their hiring his contribution to service industry science. For this, the Mick told him he was a sick individual, conducting human experiments on his staff like that. You sound like that Nazi doctor, he said. What's-his-name. Meringue.

Christ in Heaven, Kid … there’s some things you just don’t kid about, Hank would reprimand the Mick, whenever he made light of the genocide carried out against his peoples, the Ashkenazi Jews, which was often. 

Tell you what, Hank … if I start spouting off at the mouth about the potato famine or some other Irish bullshit, then by all means, you tell me what’s what. 

Sometimes he felt compelled to remind Hank he was The Mick — not A Mick — and flex his Semitic bona fides, even if he hadn’t seen the inside of a synagogue since Zach Greenberg’s Bat Mitzvah. (The after party for which was Sports-themed.)

As to the twins working well together, Hank was partway right on that score. Perhaps because they shared a shoebox apartment as adults, or a childhood bedroom for years before that likely on account of they once cohabitated a uterus … they did seem to have a heightened awareness of each other, spatially speaking, having spent more than their entire lifetime in close proximity. (The official position of this book is that life does not begin at conception.) And for this being such a small workspace, this was no small thing. Be wherever someone else isn’t — there… most ’s another good rule of thumb for working behind the bar. Thadeus and Louisa followed it instinctively. If she was pouring beers, he was taking orders. If he was closing somebody out, she was washing glasses. That sort of thing. 

So then Hank’s Theory of Twin Bartending was borne out in the sense that they worked with an economy of movement. To say they were model co-workers though, well that would be a fucking separate matter entirely. Hurry up and wait is another maxim that may apply to tending bar. Like most any other job — a proper job anyway (this doesn’t apply to all of you desk jockeys out there … ain’t nobody knows what you’re up to all day) — there are times when it is busy, and times between when it’s busy. During the busy times, you’re running around like hellfire. During the other times, well, there’s a lot of hanging around, waiting for it to get busy again. At an older bar like the New Frontier — a Mature Brand, as one might venture to call it — the times between the busy times get a little bit longer. As an employee, that time is yours to use at your own discretion. Take five. Have a smoke and a Coke as Hank used to say. Now the twins, they used that between time to busy themselves with that which they were simultaneously born to do — push each other’s ever last fucking buttons.

Because boy they could butt heads with the best of them, couple of butt heads that they were. Like a pair of bighorns, except they weren’t at odds for any good reason of natural selection, other than that they were naturally selected — against their wills mind you — to be dizygotic twins. Maybe you reckon that’s reason enough, depending how you get on with your sibling. And if you’re a brother to a sister, especially an older sister, which Louisa was to Thadeus by every part of five minutes, then you know their horns hit just as hard. She was no exception. Rather she was the Rule. In that regard and every other. 

For a fact, of them two, Lulu was the far dirtier fighter — quite often the decisive factor in a knock-down/drag-out type-brawl the likes of which they were predisposed to having. But being how Thad was the little brother, by those five minutes that may have well been five years, he had an intuition about locating her very last nerve and clawing at it like a banjo string. That was the tale of the tape for all their bouts. He started it, but by gosh, you better believe she fucking finished it.  

Observe, as he was presently haranguing her about her technique or lack thereof with a mop: 

Hey, Dummy. How many times do I have to tell you? Figure—fucking—eight. Going back and forth like that ain’t cleaning fuck all. See all that puddling? That’s you taking the stickiness and rearranging it someplace else. Cuidado, piso mojado. White girl can’t mop for shit.

Fuck You, Thadeus. For real. Imagine, for one time in your miserable life, just minding your own goddamn business. Better yet, how’s about you focus your fleeting fucking attention on the receipts, because I’d bet twice my take that you’re over there miscounting our tips again. And here you got the balls to tell me how to do my job … Can’t even do remedial math. Fucking retard. 

No, I’m counting them right. Know how come I know? Because it don’t add up to dick. Hey, here’s a bright idea … Maybe when you stop being such a [he whispered this next word, but intentionally in a way that everyone could hear] C-U-N-T to every hard-on that walks in here, we might could afford to go to the good grocery store, finally. 

Oh yeah? I got a better idea: blow me.

Beside, you of all people know damn well that those Feist Week douchebags are a bunch of deadbeats, to a fucking man. You could personally jerk off every last one of them to completion, and it wouldn’t make a taint hair’s bit of difference. There were at least two hundred of those pussies in and out of here today … Probably couldn’t rub a nickel or a stiff cock between them.

 Never change, Louisa. Always with the mother fucking excuses. And you’re still doing it wrong. Figure-fucking-eight. It’s a naturally recurring phenomenon for a reason. Symbol of cosmic balance and stability. Only number in the Fibonacci Sequence that is a perfect cube. Turn it sideways and signifies the divine infinite. As in you’re taking fucking forever to finish mopping this floor. Blackbeard will find the Eighth Sea before you’re through. Physically applicable to ice skating, rollercoasters and eating pussy. What’s the matter … didn’t they teach you how to hold a mop for your job as a night janitor at the clit-licking factory? Ask nice and I’ll come over there and show you myself. 

First of all, gross. You wouldn’t know a pussy if it bit you on the nose. Goddamn vagina dentata. Tossing dudes’ salads, reciting the alphabet, is what you’re doing.  Secondly, I swear on mom and dad … You take one step closer and I’ll flip you up by your ankles and mop this floor with your thick fucking skull. Third of all, one is a perfect cube, you dunce.

The Jackson twins were Mormon. That was the other thing Hank liked about them. As a devout atheist, he fancied the idea of his bar as a godless asylum for religious refugees, cast out from all creeds. While it’s true that LJ & TJ had somewhat lapsed in their practice as Latter-day Saints, it wasn’t like they were excommunicated — osome fundamentalist freak show. They weren’t products of polygamy. In actuality, it was nothing like that. Their childhood was as normal and loving as the next. Dad was a dentist. Mom was his dental hygienist. They met in college, where she was the varsity soccer captain. (She went on to coach the kids’ teams.) They were all four still very close. Lived in the alphabet, is what you’re doing.  Secondly, I swear on mom and dad … You take one step closer and I’ll flip you up by your ankles and mop this floor with your thick fucking skull. Third of all, one is a perfect cube, you dunce.

Normally the Mick didn’t have any qualms about telling the twins to knock it the fuck off when they got to cussing and carrying on like a pair of knuckleheads in front of the customers, even if tonight there was only the one. But, it was the end of Feist Week and he hadn’t neither the care nor the inclination. Sometimes you had to let them tire themselves out. Anyway, they considered this type of fun and easy banter — a shitty repartee — to be part of the weekly routine. Sunday was their Friday, you see. Meaning they had Monday and Tuesday off. By Wednesday they’d be back to the best of friends. Peacetime would usually last through Thursday evening, maybe midday the following. Saturday at the latest they were right back at t’other’s throats. 

While the twins blew off steam in their colourful way, the Mick was unwinding in his own, with a number-two pencil in his hand, and his face six inches from his brewing log, the latest edition in an infinite volume of marble composition notebooks. There aren’t a lot of hard-and-fast job requirements or best practices for being a brewer, but one would be well served to keep a thorough journal. For jogging down all manner of things — prospective recipes, notes about how this or that batch is progressing, ideas for naming a beer, whatever or what have you. The Mick wasn’t doing anything productive as that, to be sure. Rather you could say he was doodling, but that would be selling him short. Like so many creative types, his talents were almost entirely agnostic of medium. (I’m an artist, said John Lennon. Give me a tuba, and I’ll get you something out of it.) He directed a student film about misadventures in shaving that won an award from the University fine arts department. Played tuba in the West High jazz ensemble, before that. Had garnered nearly universal acclaim from his grammar school teachers for the avant-garde usage of macaroni and other mixed-use media. And for tonight, he was displaying his gifts as an illustrator.    

But this present sketch … It may have just been his masterpiece. 

Hank was gathering his thunder bow, riding bareback at a breakneck pace atop Bertha the bison. Her head had been reattached in Mick’s reimaging. He had also considered taking the artistic license to give her wings — like a pegasus … a winged buffalo — but he made the executive decision to keep her grounded. Bearing down behind them, a neon-basked Doctor Lupus was riding a rocket, in the style of Wile E. Coyote, except crucially this was an authentic Cavness Baumann cruise missile, not your generic Acme-brand firecracker. Hank and Bertha were about to topple off the edge of a cliff. 

Barkeep … Beg your pardon. Could I trouble you for the WIFI password? Assuming that is you got it handy. 

The Cowboy kindly asked Thadeus, who answered in a tone less so. 

Two drink minimum. Two the number. No caps or spaces.  

The Mick glanced over to the Cowboy, accidentally making eye contact. Instinctively he snapped his neck back down to his notebook, but it was too late.

Say, friend. What’re you doodling there? Of course if you don’t mind mine asking. 

Of course the Mick’d clocked that sitting there at the bar beside him was a fully kitted out cowpoke, but he was too damn tired to give it a moment’s thought. Kitty had seen him too, but all she could muster was, well, I must be dreaming. Which would be a welcome diversion. Most nights she didn’t sleep well enough to dream.

Now this dude didn’t look like a cattleman, come to town for to auction off his stock. Rather he looked to be rode hard right off a drive. His hat had the brim turned down all the way round, more like a sombrero than the ones with the brim turned up and all the steamed creases — like the ones worn by a cheesedick country star, or the Mayor’s close personal friend, the U.S. Senator-turned-Interior Secretary. He wore a barn coat like Hildy’s, but one that had spent considerable time in a barn, you could tell. Red bandana hanging alertly around his weather-beaten neck, also red, tanned the color of infertile, rocky dirt. No boots of exotic leather. Just a beat-up pair of square-toed shit-kickers. A real tough customer, he appeared to the Mick to be. 

It’s just a sketch. I wouldn’t know how to explain it exactly. 

I see. So then you say it’s open to interpretation. Hain’t that the best type of art anyways? If it’d oblige you, of course, I’d be delighted to take a gander.

Knock yourself out, Buddy. 

The Mick slid the open notebook over to the Cowboy, who studied at it a moment out of the side of his left eye whilst he completed his beer. 

The Mick took an interest in what folks were drinking, and although the uninitiated couldn’t discern the difference in their amber hues, he could tell that the Cowboy had passed over Rider, Pale, in favor of a pint of Bar Fight IPA. This was the Newfy’s second most popular beer, and the first they ever canned. That was back when craft beer types turned their noses up at the mere suggestion of canning their divine creations. Just as soon they’d serve it from a trough. Glass was the only worthy canvas on which to express their liquid art, was the conventional wisdom. 

It’s true, the way they were snobby about beer, they were just as snobby about the receptacle from whence it cascaded into your face hole. Apart from the fresh tap, only bottles would do, and preferably brown. Again, that’s if you insist on taking it to go. Surely you’d prefer to drink it On Premise, where its freshness can be guaranteed. Also so that it may be served in the appropriate glass. Now what does that even? Look at it this way. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Well then therefore the glass is the window to your beer. And every beer has its soulmate in drinkware. Tulip, snifter, teku, stange, thistle. No, these are not the names of the seven dwarves or eight reindeers. They are individualized vessels, Born of Flame, calibrated over centuries to the precise contouring for receiving the perfect pour of your chosen beverage. 

Because, nay, there is no such thing as a universal glass. However, if you so happen to be at home, about to enjoy a cold(-but-no-too-cold), refreshing Weissbier (ideal serving temp of forty-four degrees Fahrenheit, or thereabouts), let’s say, but for some reason the bottom tray on your antique bar cart isn’t fully stocked with hefeweizen glasses … Then in this and other unfortunate and avoidable situations, the Classic Pint can in a pinch suffice. And although it would be a futile and potentially offensive exercise to choose the Best Beer Glass … Boy, she is a beaut, isn’t she?

We’re still talking about a standard English pub glass. The Nonic Pint, to be clear. Ne’er to be confused with the bastard Shaker Pint. If you don’t know what a shaker pint is, good. Consider yourself one of the lucky ones. Just don’t ever ask a craft brewer about them unless you’re looking for a fucking earful. This is the Imperial Pint. The Prime Meridian. Elegant, durable, easily stacked. To slug an ale or a porter or a stout from anything else would be sacrosanct. Even the Holy Grail, assuming you could locate the goddamn thing. (It’s in the dishwasher!) Jesus Saves, but Gretzky puts home the rebound. Ah, then, what about the Stanley Cup? Not for all the syrup in Saskatoon, you hoser. 

I can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy, the Mick said to his new drinking companion. 

For all his great many other faults, a pretentious man, Hank was not. Case in point, he had a deep appreciation for the two-piece aluminum can, which he considered to be a modern engineering marvel. And would you believe: it was the legacy of Hildy’s father, who pioneered the use of Al (Aluminium) for beverage containment purposes and designed the can as we know it before his life was cut so cruelly short? If it weren’t for Wilhelm II (Il Duece), conceivably we’d still be drinking out of steel cans, which (one) imparted a metallic aftertaste and (two) were non-recyclable. For a fact, in the same time period before people knew about jogging, the concepts of recycling and by extension littering were also entirely foreign. In those days, when one finished a beer, he or she simply chucked the empty out the car window. (Drunk driving wasn’t yet taboo either. That was one of Hank’s favorite things to reminisce about — getting a little buzz on and going for a ride … Turn the radio up. Roll the windows down. Baby, you can’t beat it. Oh, what’s the worst that could happen? Maybe a cop would ask you politely to pull over and sleep it off. Or even he’d lead you home himself. Fucking pig. Have I committed a crime? Hardly. Hell, it wasn’t even a term … Drunk Driving. It was just Driving, back then. You wouldn’t think to distinguish it as drunk or otherwise.) Driving along Shakedown Street on the way out of a show, Hank’s heart would break at the sight of all the empties strewn about in every which direction, being the tree-hugging type that he was. What can you do? Some people have a deep abiding respect for the natural beauty that was this country. And some people don’t. 

(A lot of people don’t know the origin of the phrase: Don’t Mess With Texas. And honestly, why should they? It’s something only assholes say. Certainly, but did you know that it’s not actually the official motto of the State of Texas? That — quite conversely — is Friendship, likely chosen on account of the name Texas being the gringo-fied interpretation of the Spanish word Tejas, which itself was a cultural mispronunciation of the local Indian tribe's word teyshas or thecas, meaning friends or allies. [Amity, as you know, means friendship.] Don’t Mess With Texas, rather, began as the catchphrase for an anti-littering campaign, devised by the Austin-based advertising agency BDS&M — which specializes in its proprietary practice of Purpose-based Branding — as paid for by the Texas Department of Transportation [TxDot]. In addition to being reproduced on road signs, bumper stickers, t-shirts, untold unlicensed tattoos and the iconic garbage barrels painted in red, white and blue hoops [the Texas tricolore], the tagline anchored a widely seen series of television commercials which aired starting in the middle-eighties, showcasing Texas-born stars of screen [Owen Wilson, Chuck Norris, etc.], stage [Willie Nelson, George Strait, Chamillionaire, etc.] and sport [Andy Pettitte, Lance Armstrong, etc.]. According to official estimates, over a thirteen-year period, DMWT was credited with reducing litter by just shy of seventy-five percent on Lone Star state highways. And if that weren’t reward enough, the maxim was awarded a commemorative plaque on the Madison Avenue Walk of Fame. 

When you think of ad slogans, probably quite a few corporate-branded clauses come to mind. [When’s the Beef, Get Milk, Toe-Sucking Good, Can You Smell Me Now, What Can Brown Do To You, It Just Do, I’m In Love With It, Cereal For Winners, etc.] All of those words were written on behalf of a company to try and sell a product or a service to you, either as an individual consumer or the representative of another company. [Industry professionals distinguish the latter from the former by the acronyms B2B and B2C.] However, maybe you don’t think so much about how many iconic advertising slogans were created by state-sponsored and/or otherwise non-profit entities, not necessarily to encourage a single purchase decision, but instead for the express purpose of influencing ongoing patterns of behavior, in broader service of the Greater Good. There are violence prevention slogans [Take a Bite out of Crime, See Something Say Something], tourism board sirens’ calls [I <3 NY, Virginia is for Lovers, What Happens in Vegas …], monosyllabic mantras against addiction [truth or D.A.R.E.] and perhaps most beloved, nature’s call-to-action, placing the burden of responsibility for warding off natural disaster firmly upon you, ye watcher of Saturday morning cartoons.

Like Don’t Mess With Texas, these slogans are part and parcel of Public Service Announcements. PSAs began in the pre-war period in the United Kingdom and the United States, as a way to encourage support on the homefront for the conflict to come. Sometimes they promoted the taking of specific measures, such as investing in war bonds, growing your own foods [cultivate your victory garden] or straight up enlisting. Others warned against the risk of unwittingly divulging state secrets to enemy agents of espionage, imploring those with access to sensitive information to keep their goddamn mouths shut about it for once in their lives. More often though they aspired simply to boost morale among non-combatant civilians. Namely, women. [Can’t live with ‘em, can’t declare war without ‘em.] Picture Rosie the Riveter, flexing on ‘em hoes. We Can Do It, she said. Or the motivational ‘ism you may now associate with the lady in the adjacent cubicle workstation, where it’s printed on twenty-American pound copy paper beneath a Tudor Crown, for to keep her going until half past six when she can finally pour that first glass of ice cold Pinot Grigio into the corporate retreat-coffee mug because the wine glasses [set of two] are still languishing in the sink from some weeknights’ past by: 

Keep Calm And Carry On.

One of the best Don’t Mess TV spots — the resistance piece, as it’s called in Paris, Texas — opens with two Good ‘Ole Boys driving on down the highway in their piece of shit truck, red dirt country western fiddle music playing on the AM/FM Radio, when suddenly the driver tosses some rubbish out the window. Then, in hot purusuit of the pair of bubbas in the pickup, a military bomber plane appears o’er the horizon. It’s not any piece of shit old airbus either. Of that, you can bet your sweet ass. For a fact, it’s a B-17 Flying Fortress, and a quite famous one to boot, insofar as it’s a fixture at air shows around the country.  Sentimental Journey, as it’s known, so nicknamed after a popular song sung by Doris Day.

Never thought my heart could be so yearning

Why did I decide to roam?

I gotta take this sentimental journey

Sentimental journey home

A different fifties starlet is featured on the nose art of this famous plane. She was the number one pin-up girl of the Second World War, and arguably by extension the most masturbated-to woman on the Planet Earth at one time — the glamorous Miss Betty Grable. [What about Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Joan of Arc, Aphrodite, Mary Magdalene or Eve, you ask? Were historical-slash-mythological sex symbols cranked off to by the fapping masses?]

Grable was the first ever celebrity to have a part of her body insured as a publicity stunt. Her legs — or gams, or stems … as they may well have been referred to, in the parlance of those times — were covered by a policy valued at One Million US Dollars by the UK insurance marketplace Lloyd’s of London. Subsequent celebrity appendages or otherwise anatomic features to have been since underwritten include: Actress Julia Roberts’ Smile, Musician Dolly Parton’s Bosom, Dancer Fred Astaire’s Feet and Actress-Musician-Dancer Jennifer Lopez’s Gluteus. Although J-Lo has steadfastly denied such speculation as to the appraisal of her posterior. it has been reported to be covered to the tune of three hundred million bucks. [Good luck stuffing that in your G-string!] 

As for Betty Grable, who became known as the Girl with the Million-Dollar Legs, upon reflection on her film career, she said famously: I became a star for two reasons. I’m standing on them.   

In an homage to the barely-latent homoerotic fighter pilot film Top Gun [the whole movie is about buzzing towers], an airman comes over the radio with a request. Ghost Squadron to Ghost Squadron Leader — we’ve got one in sight, he says in his laconic, Chuck Yeager drawl. Let’s make an impression … Over. 

Something to think about if you throw trash on Texas highways, the voice actor now narrates in a twang, that which is considerably less convincing. Somebody up there is gon’ be watchin’ … And you don’t want to mess with the Texas Confederate Air Force. [Since renamed the Commemorative Air Force — the membership determined that the antebellum moniker would be detrimental to fundraising efforts — the CAF exists to restore and exhibit historical planes, not run air raids into Mexico or Oklahoma as the name would suggest. The State of Texas does have an Air National Guard. Notable former members include: the forty-third president of these United States, George W. Bush. His service record, rendered entirely stateside at the height of the American involvement in Southeast Asia, became shrouded in controversy during his campaign for reelection against Democratic Party nominee and more-distinguished military veteran of the conflict in Vietnam, Senator John Kerry of Massachusetts. Bush the Younger scored somewhat modestly on his pilot aptitude test, for one thing, raising questions as to his qualification for gaining admittance into flight school. His father, H.W., was a congressman serving Texas’ fifth district at the time, it should be noted. Also, there was allegedly a rather extended period of time during which the airman’s presence could not be accounted for at mandatory drills, for which the armed services has a word or rather an acronym. Dubya never publicly addressed the controversy, but in his acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention four years prior, the then-Texas Governor did have this to say to the assembled delegation: 

To those who would malign our state for political gain … Don’t Mess With Texas.)    

Ain’t that they say how looks can be deceitful? The cowboy said back to Mick, a quarter-grin rustling up beneath his bristly mustache. 

Beyond being less burdensome on the environment than bottles, cans also made for much more efficient storage, perfectly cylindrical that they are, thus making for more cost-effective means of refrigeration and distribution. Hank would also point out how for purposes of blocking light, aluminum is far superior to glass. (Have you noticed that with some exceptions, most American beers are packaged in brown bottles? Likewise, maybe you’ve drank an imported beer from a green glass bottle. Did it have a skunky taste? Light exposure was the probable culprit. Green, or god forbid clear glass makes beer more susceptible to oxidizing, which is a just fancy way to say turning skunk. Ironically, these inferior green bottles are often associated with more aspirational beer brands. That’s only because green bottles were introduced as a substitute during the nineteen forties, when all the brown glass was reallocated to wartime production for some reason. Only the blue bloodiest of European beerhouses could afford the switch to green, hence the consumer misconception that the color connotes a higher quality, which lingers to this day. As for clear bottles, there are some mass-produced Mexican lagers that still make use of them, but only as a means to showcase their golden color, which shines like the Spanish words for Crown or Sun.) Harmful UV rays are the publicans’ nemeses, Hank would often say. In more ways than one, referring to his contempt for natural light polluting an ale house’s dim ambiance, thus disrupting the shame-based ritual of daytime drinking. Much time as he spent in the Great Outdoors — a great deal of it before the advent of sunscreen (another innovation that came along around the time of jogging, aluminum and the awareness of littering and drunk driving to be social ills) — Hank seemed to hold a stubborn grudge against The Sun. Fair as thin, t’was his skin. 

So anyways, when Hank got a line on a cannery with reasonable enough rates, he signed a purchase order for ten thousand units. Then he got the Mick to draw the label for the first beer, free gratis of course. There was a precious little campfire scene set against a kelly green backdrop — a guacho-type with a guitar, his companeros singing along, beneath a blanket of stars. Above it, in the western-kind of font they’d a used to write WANTED on the poster, was the beer’s dim ambiance, thus disrupting the shame-based ritual of daytime drinking. Much time as he spent in the bottom, the tagline in italicized cursive with calf-roped characters: Take it outside. 

(Hank originally wanted to call it Nature Calls, something he thought to be similarly evocative of a sessionable-slash-crushable ale you might take along camping, or for to hydrate after a pleasure hike. But the Mick objected on the grounds that customers might associate the Nature Calls name with drinking piss. Why don’t we just call it Golden Shower IPA, he suggested in jest. Not a bad idea, Hank thought, unawares of the sex act wherein one party urinates consensually upon his or her partner.)

The Cowboy might could have related personally to that other drawing of the Mick’s, as it appeared on the BFIPA can, having sat around his fair share of cookstoves under a crackling flame. He hadn’t ordered a can though. This was on draft. The sketch he was currently drinking in — of Hank riding the bison with the medical wolf hot on his heels — was more of the surrealism movement. 

Partner, you paint a hell of a picture. Reminds a feller of the Guernicer, if you’re familiar with the life and works of the hombrecito, Señor Pablo. With allusions to the wildlife and the warfare that which I’m referring. But don’t take my word for it. I’m no art critic. Anyhow, what brings you roundabout this way, amigo?

I work here. Actually, we all of us do … Work here. 

Is that a fact? Well, shoot. I figured the handsome couple behind the bar for its keepers, but if I’d known I’d been the only guest I’d have just a soon skedaddled. I truly do hate to impose on your tidying up for closing time. 

Really it’s no bother. But we are about to do Last Call, if you’re thirsty for one more. And LJ and TJ here are twin sister and brother, to be clear. 

You don’t say. I’ll be damned then. I would have bet an entire month’s wage that that was a lovers’ quarrel they were engaged in. I find it’s best to stay out of the romantic affairs of others, so long as they ain’t turned violent. In this case then I can offer how that ain’t no way for a brother to talk to his sister. Or reverse-wise, for that matter. 

Overhearing this, Thadeus offered right back: 

Ayo … Yosemite Sam. What about you mind your fucking business. You heard the Mick … Order up, close out, or hit the bricks, Chief. 

Well, pardon me, buster. I didn’t mean any offense. Just that it weren’t very Christian is all. 

At that, Louisa clarified: 

Hey, asshole. We’re Mormon. What the fuck are you? Besides some hillbilly with a big fucking mouth.

Here Zeke felt compelled to chime in. Always with the impeccable timing. 

I’m sorry for our friends’ unfriendly affects, Sir. It’s just that emotions are running pretty high around here. You see we suffered a recent loss. 

You can shut the fuck up yourself, Zeke. / Oh, suck my fucking dick, Zeke. 

Thadeus and Louisa, respectively speaking, had a special way about them, in which they could rejoin in a two-part harmonious round. Sort of like: Row, Row, Row Your Boat / Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily. Except with more swears. (Parental Advisory: Explicit Content … Row Your Boat Remix Ft. Two Live Crew.) Part of that ESPtwiN Hank was so keen on. 

Until now, the Mick hadn’t considered that maybe Zeke was on to something, in that the gruesome twosome had been riled up something extra by all the Hank … Stuff. Even considering their lofty standards for lowdown behavior, they had been seeming especially feral today, come to think of. For that matter so had everybody else been acting peculiar. Like how Grace, for example, had been caught twice, tongue-kissing at her place of work. And Zeke’s sensitivities seemed heightened all the more. As for Kitty, she had on that look she got sometimes. Like there were something she so desperately wanted to say, but the words required were just beyond the barbed wire fence of her comprehension.

That’s mighty generous of you, Hoss, but the apologies are all mine. There I go, talking wise again, telling other folks how to act. Like I ain’t a sinner my own self. And here you are in a mourning state to boot. It ain’t right and I’m awful sorry about it. Truly, I am. 

If it pleases, I’d very much like to make up for my bullheadedness. Allow me to buy the saloon a round. One for the road. 

Hearing tell of a free drink, Grace abruptly awoke from her hormonal daze. Leaning over the bar, she reached up to ring the bell, thus notarizing the transaction. 

Hey, Louie. You heard the man. Line ‘em up.

Hey, Grace. As soon as Zeke’s through, you can have a turn licking my hairy balls. 

Louisa fetched six taster glasses with one and a half hands and filled them in one contiguous pour of Bar Fight. It was Newfy policy to do beer shooters whenever some big swinging dick bought the bartenders a round. The Cowboy got a full pint for his trouble and raised it to the Mick. 

Condolences also for your dearly departed friend. I’d say let’s drink to his memory, but I make it a policy of only toasting to present company. By that I mean the living among us. So how about then we hoo-ray to the ar-tiste here. You seem to be the top banana in this outfit. Mick, was it? Or did I catch a The in there? What’s your Christian name, son? If you don’t mind mine asking the one last question. 

Solomon, David Michael. 

Well then here’s to you, Señor Solomon. 

Thadeus tossed his back without breaking eye contact with the Cowboy. It was hard to look tough taking a shot of beer but damned if he wouldn’t try. 

The Cowboy took a long snort, reared back in appreciation, and then took another. It’s a fine ale you fellers brew here. Myself, I'm a habitual tequila drinker. But when somebody makes something — be it a sturdy saddle or a cozy pair of socks or even a tray of piping-hot sourdough biscuits … Well what I’m trying to say is when somebody makes something, and when they know what they’re doing, well you can tell is all. A man can take pride in that. I got one last thing coming for you and then I promise to be out of your curly hair forever. Mister David Michael Solomon. Known alias: The Mick. You’t try. 

The Cowboy reached at his hip pocket, drew a creased yellow envelope, slapped it on the bartop in front of Mick and turned to tip his hat at Kitty. 

Ma’am. 

His boots made a click-thudding sound on the parquet floor as he heel-toed his way out the front door. While it closed behind him, Mayor Mockingbird the Cat slinked back across the waning threshold. 

You sneaky bitch! / That fucking sandbagger!

Just as soon as they’d processed how they’d been duped, Thadeus and Louisa couldn’t hardly wait to express their utter shock and disapproval. 

The Mick meanwhile didn’t move a muscle. Absolute stillness was his way of dealing with situations which unmoored him. 

Kitty thought, well then I must be dreaming after all. And as one does in a dream, she played along, reaching across the bar at the strange document. Subconsciously or not, being the family bookkeeper she felt an obligation to act as the Mick’s proxy in this matter. 

Dear Sir or Madam … Brought to our attention … infringement upon intellectual property … response requested … It’s just a cease and desist letter. Then why did he send a process server disguised as a Cowboy?

Just a C&D? From who though?

It says Compliments of the Law Office of Shanker and Schuster, Esqs., on behalf James Francis Delano and #x_brüing, LLC. 

His middle name is Francis? 

This seems highly irregular, but it’s asking you to issue a formal in-person response. But not at like a deposition or anything. At the brewery. Jamie’s place. And he gave a specific date and time. Tomorrow night, seven pm.  

Cool — nope. 

The Mick had never been to #x_brüing for a visit with his former assistant brewer. There were a great number of places he would rather be. Back to Temple. A Michael McDonald concert. Gone to see Dr. Jackson for a root canal.

Kitty however had a feeling. This was leading somewhere. Maybe no place good, but some place else to be sure. 

Well, come on then, baby. I guess tomorrow night we go to see about Dandy Jim.

[eddwardtheseventhspacewizard]

Tumblr stop showing me celebrity blogs challenge. I hate celebrities. Don’t get me wrong some of them are really cool but when one of them is a piece of shit the internet blows up! And some people are famous for being rich or pretty or they just are famous?! When my classmates are discussing the latest drama I am blissfully unaware. The concept of a celebrity is stupid, Markiplier is famous but I wouldn’t call him a celebrity but maybe I’m stupid and don’t know what counts or doesn’t. Maybe it’s as confusing as identifying genres, maybe there’s overlap. Idk but the classic movie star who is pretty is boring and I don’t get why anyone cares. Also the whole parasitic relationship some fans have is gross. “But this my favorite person!””They’ll apologize and make up for it!” No they won’t because of people like that. They don’t know you exist, you are numbers on a screen and in the bank. And also think about the people who are really just people. The things people say about Billie Eilish’s body is disgusting. Also imagine having magazines writing about your love life and starting rumors for clicks?! That’s terrifying!! Paparazzi are fucking disgusting too!!! If you’re paparazzi or are about to defend them go choke on your spit and bend your finger nails please ❤️. Idk if anyone who participates in taking pictures of people without their permission is on tumblr but crazy enough conservatives are on here so I thought I’d make the point now. Anyway I think people being popular is normal but once they reach celebrity status it feels wrong, like they are a creature in a glass maze that’s secretly a circle and they are doomed to keep running until someone slides out the wooden bottom and they fall. Also when someone is a piece of shit we should stop putting them in the spotlight, just saying is someone starts being fucked up after the reach fame it might be best to take away fame. But idk that’s my opinion and I know little to nothing about celebrities so if you have any other opinions feel free to chat. I just know that by staying away from the drama but also staying as informed as I can be of who’s a piece of shit has helped me sleep well at night. If I’m invested in someone’s work and they do something the news will make it’s way to me but for people I don’t care about, I stay out of it. Also usually if an artist is shity I’ll just pirate their stuff unless it’s the content that’s apart of the problem, then I forget about it. No point in giving them the time of day. Anywho I’m just mad because celebrity stuff is being shown to me no matter how many times I say “not for me” and it’s not like I can just block a tag. Like how you’d think blocking “tweets” and “twitter” means you won’t see them but instead tag-less posts wriggle their way into your dash.

[consistentlycomplaining]

I have a hard time maintaining control.

I have a tendency to get stressed, to get overwhelmed, and to essentially let things steer off course in an exceptionally dramatic way. I start to feel like I can’t control my life so I might as well completely let the chaos run. And that’s a terrible habit to be trying to break.

Trying to maintain control of things has always been a weak spot for me, and maybe it’s coupled with the issue that I feel the need to be IN control of absolutely everything within my life, so any break of that feels like the absolute end of the world to me.

Right now particularly it is happening to everything. My mental health, my emotions, my eating and therefore my weight, every single thing feels like it’s going into a complete state of chaos. And once that happens it’s like I allow myself to spiral out of control because I figure oh well. It’s too late now. Like with food. I’m so focused on constricting myself and controlling my eating habits so that I lose weight that it’s becoming counterproductive and if I slip up with just one thing in the day then the entire days progress is ruined and I just eat everything in sight. Because I ruined the progress so why not fully give up. And that can’t be how life works. And yet. That’s entirely my methodology every time.

Even with guys. I was with the worst boyfriend on the planet for 3 whole years, I let him essentially ruin my life. And yet I stayed, why? Because I felt like I was in control of the situation, he was sleeping with other people, he was treating me like shit, but by choosing to stay I was maintaining the control. He wasn’t going to dump me, because why would he if he could have me and any other girl too why not keep me around. But I was the delusional one thinking I was keeping the control. I finally get myself out of that, I take years to repair everything he damaged, everything I let him damage. And the first guy I like after all that time turns out to be shit too, and he shoots me down. And there goes the control again and suddenly the spiral kicks in again. Well if he doesn’t want me even though he said he did, then I shouldn’t be with anybody ever. I should completely give up on love. If I lose control of the situation, then the entire concept is a lost cause. (Clearly the relationship issues are a much deeper issue than just control, but it follows the same pattern as other control issues)

Point is (or maybe this isn’t even the point who knows anymore) that if I cannot control and see every outcome to every aspect of my life, I give up. I let it go, run it’s own course of detriment, no matter how hopeful I was. No matter how much I wanted something. I assume if I can’t immediately control it and make it work then it’s not meant for me. How sad is that. I don’t know if it means I give up too easily or if it just means that I need to stop trying to control so much. But either way, it’s a really really upsetting place to be in. And to be in it with every aspect of my life right now. Fucking awful.

So yeah. I’m stressed, depressed and overly obsessed (with everything). I thought I was being cute and catchy there but it’s pretty cringe. Anyways. I don’t know what to do except actively work against the spiral every day. With everything. And hope that eventually… I’m gonna beat it.

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[cinnamonest]

Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask.  Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 136: Long Drive

Sorry friends. The second half of my week last week was really difficult and I went away for the weekend to recharge. Without further ado, here's the next ficlet. Thanks for your patience <3

---------

Harry loved the States for a lot of reasons; it was way easier to disappear here than in England; even if people knew his name, they were way less likely to recognize his face; you could basically pick any climate that you wanted and find a place that suited you; and lots of other weird things.

But mostly he loved road trips.

He loved the entire concept behind getting in a car and just driving. The road unfurling endlessly in front of him, windows down, radio turned up and blaring whatever struck his fancy. With Max in the car beside him, wagging his tail and sticking his head out of the window, Harry felt practically weightless.

"Alright, buddy," he told the pittie when he pulled over to grab some breakfast at a little diner, "You hang out in the back, yeah?" he asked, scratching behind his ears and pressing a kiss to the broad bridge of his nose. "Go on," he said, nudging him toward the back that Harry had magically enlarged and turned into a comfortable living space.

Muggles had campers and rvs but with a little bit of magic, the beaten up Subaru served him just fine.

He got out and hit the lock button, listening to the satisfying little beep as he headed toward the diner, catching up his curls and tying them into a loose messy bun on top of his head.

The diner was cute, all red and white checkered decorations and a counter with spinny stools. Harry sat down at one and grabbed a menu, perusing and trying to decide what to order when he heard the crash of something being dropped to the ground and breaking.

His head snapped up and he blinked, wondering if it had been too long since he'd gone to sleep because he had to be hallucinating. "Malfoy?" he spluttered.

(Read more below the cut)

But before the other man could respond there was a shout from the kitchen in the back, "Damn it! You clumsy, stupid ass!" the man shouted and Harry felt himself recoiling from the anger in his voice. "You'll be paying for that!"

"Yes, sir!" Malfoy shouted back, bending over and hastily sweeping up the pieces.

"Well don't mess around with that now!" he shouted. "You've got a customer, you worthless piece of-" his voice trailed off as he slammed a door in the back but Harry could fill in the rest.

"Malfoy?" he repeated as the man in question stepped over to him. "How on earth did you find me?" he asked.

"You found me, Potter," he snapped. "Not the other way around. Now what can I get you?"

"You actually work here?" Harry asked in befuddlement.

Malfoy gritted his teeth, "Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be wearing this stupid apron and I wouldn't be getting screamed at by the arsehole that owns this place. What can I get you?" he repeated.

"Umm," he said, glancing down at the menu, "I will definitely have a cup of coffee. And then maybe the first special on your board with scrambled eggs, bacon, and rye toast," he said. "And also grape jelly, if you have it."

"Got it," Malfoy replied, scribbling on the ticket. "Coming right up."

He spun on his heel and strutted off before Harry could say anything more and Harry just stared after him, wondering if he was dreaming.

Malfoy was back a few minutes later with a mug and a coffee pot, filling Harry's cup and sliding it over to him.

"Thanks," Harry said, reaching for the sugar. "What are you-"

"Look," Malfoy hissed, leaning over and keeping his voice low, "Please do not blow this for me. I know that you have no reason to help me but I really need this job, Potter."

Harry blinked and by the time he'd unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Malfoy was gone again.

It wasn't long before the other man emerged once more, carrying Harry's plate of breakfast. "Here you go," he said as he set it down and slid a couple of grape jelly packets toward him. "Enjoy. Do you need a warm up on your coffee?"

"Uhh," Harry replied, glancing at his half full cup, "Sure."

Malfoy nodded and grabbed the pot to refill his cup.

"When do you get off work?" Harry found himself asking.

The other man's brow furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged as he slathered jelly onto his toast, "Thought it might be nice to catch up."

"To catch up?" Malfoy repeated. "Is that code for-"

"Hear about your life," Harry supplied.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, "Fine. I get off at 10:00. If you pretend that you are just a customer passing through I'll give you fifteen minutes."

"Done," Harry replied easily. "So what touristy shite is there to do in this town until 10:00 am?"

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

After he finished breakfast, Harry ended up just taking Max for a walk and then to the dog park to chase a ball around him. He'd worked hard to train him the first few months after he'd found him abandoned, tied up to a dumpster and all but starving. And Max had learned quickly, mastering basic commands in no time which was for the best, since people took one look at him and decided he was scary.

He wasn't, he was a sweet boy who loved people and who loved to play but it didn't seem to make any difference. Still, once he was trained, Harry had started taking him to the park and he wouldn't let other people bully them out.

Around 9:30, they headed back to the diner and Harry settled Max into the back, making sure his water bowl was full before he climbed back out of the car and leaned against the hood, waiting.

Malfoy emerged a few minuted after 10:00, looking a bit disheveled in his black t-shirt and skinny jeans, and immediately lit up a cigarette before looking around and spotting Harry. His eyebrows rose like he was surprised to see him before he squared his shoulders and made his way toward him.

"Hey," Harry said, straightening up as Malfoy approached him.

Malfoy blew a stream of smoke out of his mouth, "Hey?" he asked. "Is that really what you have to say to me?" He shook his head, "Just get it over with Potter," he said. "If you want to gloat just fucking gloat so I can move on and go get my groceries."

"I don't want to gloat," Harry protested.

"What do you want, then?" he asked scathingly.

And that was the question, wasn't it? What did Harry want? "Why are you working here?" he asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he exhaled another puff of smoke, "It's amazing where you end up when you're a convicted death eater whose wand is monitored," he replied. "Then add to that the fact that it didn't seem to matter where I got myself set up in muggle London, someone found me and within hours I'd lose whatever job I'd been working. So here I am, just trying to get by and who should appear but the savior himself," he said with a little mock bow. "I should just put my two weeks in here now, at least-"

"I'm not going to tell anyone you're here," Harry said quickly.

"Right," he huffed sarcastically.

"I'm not," he argued, "Because if I told them where you are, they'd know where I've been."

"You're running away too?" Malfoy asked, cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers as he stared at Harry in surprise.

"Obviously," Harry replied. "Come on," he said after a moment. "Your feet must be killing you. I'm sure that arsehole doesn't give you breaks," he added as he opened the hatch.

"You want me to climb into the trunk of your car?"

He rolled his eyes, "I know you think I'm an idiot," he said, "But I'm less of one than you think. Just," he crawled in and stood up, "come on."

After a moment Malofy followed him through but before anything else could happen Max bounded over and all but climbed onto Malfoy's lap.

"Max-" he started to scold before Malfoy started talking over him.

"Oh, hello you sweet baby," he said, pulling Max further onto his lap so he could pet him better and scratch his neck. They looked ridiculous, Max was almost as big as Malfoy, but there he sat anyway, "hello. Aren't you a lovie?" he asked. "Yes you are. You're a giant lovie," he said.

And in that moment, Harry's mind was made up. "Have you ever gone on a road trip?" he asked.

Malfoy looked up at him and Max licked a stripe up his cheek. He laughed and stroked his side, "What?" he asked.

"Have you ever gone on a road trip?" Harry repeated.

"What is that?"

"Like a really long drive," he said. "Where you just get in your car and drive and stop for food when you want to and sleep when you want to." He scratched the back of his neck, "Max and I are headed to California to see the giant redwoods."

"That sounds nice for the two of you," Malfoy replied, steadily patting Max.

"Come with us," Harry said.

The other man blinked. "Sorry?"

"Just," he shrugged, "What else do you have here?"

"A job-"

"That you hate."

"A flat-"

"That is probably smaller than this," he said gesturing to the space they were sitting in.

"What happens when you get sick of me?"

He shook his head, "Come on. Just come with us. If I kick you out I'll give you $5000. That should be enough to help you settle wherever you want, right?"

"Why?"

He stared at him for a moment. There were a thousand reasons that flitted through Harry's mind, a thousand things that he could say, but none of them made any sense. Not yet at least. "Why not?" he settled on.

Malfoy took a slow inhale and then nodded once. "Fine, but you're going to need to make a second bed and we have to stop for my stuff."

"Done," Harry replied, grinning and feeling the familiar feeling of freedom that he felt when he was gliding down the open road unfurling in his chest.

Finally, he was going on an adventure worth having.

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

Day 135: Off-Guard | Day 137: Symmetry

[utakoi]

Office Yandere HCs

Pairings: Assistant!Izuku Midoriya, Investor!Shoto Todoroki, Chauffeur!Hitoshi Shinso x Boss!Fem!reader

Summary: Ever wonder what it would be like to be the boss of some office yanderes and basically have a harem? Well, look no further, cause here it is!

Warnings: smut !!18+ ONLY!! (spunking in food + masturbation + dirty thoughts + oral), yandere themes (noncon)

A/N: Bc my brain kept me up at night with this concept and has made it’s final decision on turning a one shot I was in the middle of writing into a series, I decided to write some messy hcs to take a lil breather from long works (evn tho this is kinda long already). Also, if you think this is the last you’ll hear about office yanderes, no no no, I have some other thoughts for other characters

Assistant!Midoriya Izuku

He is over the moon to hold a position that’s the closest to you

Out of your entire yandere office harem, he gets to spend the most time with you

He also definitely has an advantage since he practically schedules your entire day

For example, Shoto constantly tries to schedule one-on-one meetings with you in the guise of it being a matter of business, but Izuku cock blocks him by filling your day with a bunch of other events in order to make the meetings as short as possible, and sometimes, even cuts them out completely

He doesn’t like doing it often tho since he knows you can get too stressed with too much going on so he reluctantly has to give away some time for you to meet with the other yanderes (he’s still kind of a sweet and considerate bby as a yandere)

Will not give you personal space

Stands close to you during meetings, constantly visits your office to work (even tho his personal office is right next to yours), etc etc

Even if you don’t ask him to, he will fetch your meals and give you snacks throughout the day because he wants to take care of you and show how sweet he is (also because he wants you to imagine how good of a boyfriend he’d be if you just gave him a chance)

Now let’s get to the part that just popped up into my mind and inspired this entire post: if he can hide his cum somewhere in your food, he will do it

That coffee he gave you that tasted a little salty? Izuku spunked inside it.

The sandwich he bought that seemed to have more mayo than usual? He spunked in that, too

Whatever you think doesn’t taste right, it’s definitely because of Izuku

// // // // //

Izuku is thankful for his job because of two specific things: he gets to interact with you for most of the day and his office has a built in personal bathroom.

If he were to be forced to use the regular employee restroom, his lewd acts would have been exposed immediately by anyone who happened to walk in; he was never the best at holding his moans and grunts while jacking himself off after all.

In the privacy of his own bathroom, he could be as loud as he wants with both his breathy, pleasure-ridden voice and the slick sounds of him stroking his lube-covered cock. In fact, he’s even trying to be as loud as possible. 

Since your office is right next to his, there’s a small chance that you may be able to hear him through the walls. He can visualize you entering his office, concern decorating your features, wondering what he could possibly be doing to make such noises. If you were to open his bathroom door, you’d be met by the sight of Izuku sitting on the lid of the toilet, his hand vigorously pumping up and down his shaft. 

And he wouldn’t stop.

He’d just keep going, all the while staring at you right in the eye. He wonders what you’d do then. Would you just stay frozen at your spot, being unable to take your eyes off of him? Or maybe you’d get on your knees, completely turned on and ready to have a taste of his cum? What if you were actually more dominant than he thought and you’d just dig your heels into his dick, punishing him for slacking off his job by not letting him find release?

Fuck, any of those scenarios would be fine by him. 

Unfortunately, as he gets close to reaching his peak, you don’t come into his office at all. That’s alright, though.

He’ll just settle with spunking into your coffee, for now.

Investor!Shoto Todoroki

Needs your attention

Like I said earlier, Shoto will keep trying to schedule meetings with you in the guise of it being a matter of business 

really, he just wants to spend time with you

During the meetings, he will also try to convince you to fire Izuku so that he can get rid of who he deems as someone deliberately keeping the two of you apart (which, for once, is a pretty spot on theory from Shoto)

Will try to spoil you with gifts and make excuses or pass it off as a casual thing so you don’t reject it or deem it as inappropriate for a workplace relationship

The beautiful bouquet of flowers? He was buying flowers for his mother on the way over and  the flower shop had a 2 for 1 deal so why not?

These gourmet chocolates? A fellow business partner of his gave him a box as thanks for his investment. Unfortunately, he’s allergic to one of the ingredients, but it would just be a waste to throw them out, no?

This exquisite diamond necklace? weLL-

You get the point (also, these gifts are definitely inspired by romance movies he saw his sister watching while growing up cuz oof he did not know any means of romance until he met you)

He aims to schedule his meetings with you around lunch time so that he has an excuse to treat you for lunch

He loves providing for you AKA he loves providing for you and showing off how he has the means to take care of you (much like Izuku)

If you were to become his wife, you wouldn’t have to work another day in your life

You can just stay at home and relax

Maybe you can even cook him breakfast and pack lunch for him before he works

That’s basically his dream

He wants you to stay home, waiting for your sweet husband to come back from work

Basically, he’ll take care of your every need, and he means EVERY need

// // // // //

It’s one of those nights again.

Shoto can’t sleep because he’s plagued by thoughts of you. Today, you weren’t able to meet him for lunch because you already had a flood of other appointments to attend (he was willing to bet his entire fortune that it’s because of your stupid assistant’s scheduling that you weren’t able to make it). 

So, needless to say, he was pent up. He can only hop that you fall in love with him sooner. Did his charms just not work on you? Do you not like the cool stoic type? Maybe he just wasn’t giving you the right gifts. Were they not expensive enough to impress you? Not expensive enough to show he could provide for you?

He knows he can take care of you so well. You would never have to work another day in your life. You can just stay home, surrounded by luxurious gifts and servants who’ll be at your beck and call while you wait for his return. 

And once he actually did come home after a long day of work? You’d be bathed in affection. Kisses, hugs, cuddles... and more.

You’d want him just as much as he wants you, right? 

His poor wife, lonely and deprived of the one person she loves for such long hours. He’s got to show that he’s sorry for neglecting you. 

Pushing you down onto the bed, he’d run his hands all over your body, massaging your shoulders, pinching your hardening nipples, brushing over your sensitive thighs... And since he’s also quite needy, he’d be grinding down his still-clothed cock on your pussy, showing off that he’s missed you, too.

Shoto doesn’t even think he’d have the patience to take off your clothes. He’d just keep dry humping you, desperate for his own release. The thin cloth preventing the both of you from making actual skin-on-skin contact would make such great friction. He can practically feel it now.

... And yup, the feeling was definitely not just from his imagination. Without even needing to glance down, Shoto already knows that his thoughts of you has caused him to pop a boner. 

Hopefully, a quick jerk off session can tire him out enough to fall asleep, but with how much his hard cock throbbed, he doubted it.

Chauffeur!Hitoshi Shinso

2nd most envied out of your office harem for his job (he’s right next to Izuku)

Why? Well 1 - he gets one on one time with you daily and 2 - that one on one time is him and you in an enclosed space

Sure, he may not get as much time with you as the others, but he sure makes the best use of it

He’ll be chatting you up, getting to know you personally in order to make the atmosphere less awkward between the two of you (tbh, because he gives off standoffish and cold vibes, y’all are gonna be kinda tense when he’s just gotten his job as a chauffeur)

and he does it so discreetly

He’ll start the conversation of lightly, talking about the weather, how busy you’re going to be that day...

and then somehow it just transitions onto friendlier and more personal topics such as your favorite places to eat, what hobbies you’ve been trying out lately, etc

And he uses that info to his advantage

If he senses that you’re feeling stressed or down, he will drive you over to your favorite places and remind you that you should relax

But not only does he get brownie points for that, but would you really be so mean as to make him wait for you while you eat a meal or walk around the mall when he’s the one who’s trying so hard to cheer you up?

Of course not, you’re going to invite him and thank him for considering how you’re feeling

And if not, well, that’s okay, too, he understands (so long as he gets his brownie points)

As the boss of your own company, you’d often be asked out to meetings or social gatherings that involve drinking

Shinso’s always there whenever you get shit faced, and happily so

You’re drunk and you’re not gonna remember it the next morning, anyway... so why would he waste such a golden opportunity?

// // // // //

Shit, you feel great on his body.

Currently, Shinso is living out one of the best moments of his life. He’d come to pick you up from a drinking session with some investors and was ecstatic to find you drunk out of your mind. Hell, you could barely even slur out your orders for him to drive you home. Now, you’re pressed up against him as he holds you up and guides you to the car. 

Testing out the waters, he cheekily squeezes the flesh of your ass. If you were conscious enough to reprimand him for it, then he could easily just apologize and pass it off as an accident since you were stumbling around so much. 

And if you didn’t mention anything... well then, that was the single indicator he needed to know that you wouldn’t remember anything once you woke up in the morning. 

To his delight, you barely reacted to his touch and even let out a high-pitched giggle at his actions. As quickly as he possibly could, he opens up the back of the limousine and pushes you inside. You plop down onto the seat with a huff, completely inebriated. 

You don’t even register when Shinso crawls in and nudges himself in between your legs. 

When the door slams shut, you flinch a little, prompting Shinso to massage your thighs in an attempt to soothe you. He gazes at you lovingly as you look down at him with your dilated pupils. Fuck, you look way too innocent and adorable for what he’s about to do. 

Quick with his hands, he pulls down your waistband and completely exposes your sex. Before diving into his meal, he places light kisses that trail from your calf all the way up to your thighs. He wishes he could leave marks on your skin, but he wouldn’t want you to panic the next morning when you see clusters of purple and blue spread out all over your legs. 

He eats you out like a man starved, slobbering all over your pussy. All the while, you’re making such cute noises for him. When you gush all over his face, he’s happily lapping it all up, trying not to waste a single drop. 

Once you’ve come down, he dresses you back up as if nothing happened, which, in your mind tomorrow, nothing did. 

Shinso hesitates when he’s about to slide the panties back onto you. Maybe he could get away with just a little souvenir?

[uwuwriting]

Breaking in w/ Hawks, Shoto and Dabi

Request: I read another post about ppl breaking in your shared house with the boys not knowing that you are inside and hurting you and I was like well this would be interesting with their kids in the mix. So i'm here to provide you with the following request ppl breaking in and immobilizing you while you're still awake and they try to go into your kids’ room with Shoto, Hawks and maybe Dabi or Aizawa- anonymous 

Oh this is a nice little concept. It's very interesting. I’m happy to deliver. I have been devastated by chapter 290, if anyone hurts Shoto imma start a riot and if Dabi doesn’t kill Endeavor i will. I’m thinking of making a double post today so this one and a kny post but we’ll see. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warning: cursing, mentions of blood, crying but fluff in the end. 

Hawks/Keigo Takami

-You were waiting for Keigo to come home after a long day. 

-The twins were a nightmare to put to bed today and you were exhausted. 

-Both of them wanted Keigo to tuck them in for some weird reason and they just wouldn’t accept your cuddles or attempts. 

-So after a tiresome two hours of trying and failing to calm them down you called your husband on facetime and they went to bed. 

- “I’ll be home soon, do you want me to bring you anything?”

- “No, no just you.” 

-So after taking a shower and checking on the kids you relaxed on the couch, turning on the TV while scrolling though tik tok. 

-Not even half an hour later you heard jiggling coming through the door. 

-Assuming it was Keigo you got up and went to greet him but who you met at the entrance of your house was a complete stranger. 

-You and the two bulgars stared at each other for a solid minute before you scrambled to get to the kids’ room and lock yourself in there. 

-But one of them tackled you to the floor before you could reach the pastel colored door and pinned you down, binding your hands with a cloth. 

- “I thought you said he wasn’t here man? What is this?”

-They had tied your legs to a chair, putting a makeshift gag in your mouth so you wouldn’t scream as they bickered back and forth. 

-Your eyes kept darting from the front door to your kids’ room.

-He said he was almost home, he should be here at any moment. 

- “Just stick to the plan, she doesn’t change anything.”

- “Doesn’t change anything? You tackled the n. 2 heros’ partner and you think that nothing is gonna happen?”

-You couldn’t care less about their words as you saw the light of the baby monitor light up.

-Eyes widening, you tried to get out of your  restraints to turn it off but to no avail, the soft babbles of your son could be heard coming from the device sending the whole room into an uncomfortable silence. 

-Before you know it, the one that tackled you pushed his partner towards you. 

- “Keep her in check while I go pay a visit to the other room.” 

-Managing to get the gag out of your mouth, your eyes frantic, you tried to reason with him. 

- “I’ll give you whatever you want just stay away from that door, please.” 

- “The number 2 hero has plenty of money. I bet he would be willing to give a handsome amount for that brat in there. What do you say babycakes? 

- “Dude you’re taking it too far-” 

- “Stay away from them!” 

-You realized your mistake a little too late, the new information making the man's eyes light up.

-Two cries came from the twins’ room due to the commotion and your panic rose. 

-But then you saw it. 

-The single feather hovering over the mans’ head, as red and vibrant as ever. 

-You let out a sigh of relief as a wave of red feathers flooded your living room, cutting you free from your restraints. 

-Without missing a beat you sprinted to the door, stepping inside and locking it. 

-Both of them were awake and teary eyed but at the sight of you they calmed down a bit. 

-Taking them out of their cribs, you sat in the far corner with both of them in your lap waiting for the moment Keigo would knock on your door. 

-One would assume that being part of the hero industry, although you weren’t a full blown hero yourself, mere bulgars wouldn’t really faze you. 

-In reality you hadn’t been afraid for your own life, you couldn’t care less about yourself at that moment, but when you realized that they knew about the twins everything slowly fell apart.  

-After what seemed like an eternity a soft knock came from the locked door. 

- “Y/N, dove, open up.”

-Raising to your feet, you almost ripped the door handle out of position in your rush. 

-Once Keigo came into view you didn’t miss a beat before pressing yourself close to his chest, the twins just happy to see their dad. 

- “There are my favorite Takamis!” he said kissing their heads as his wings enclosed all of you. 

- “Dove they are gone, don’t worry. I’m here. We’re alright.” 

-The news report the next morning said that two men were found on the top of the police department butt naked. 

Todoroki Shoto

-Poor man had merely gone to get take out. 

-He hadn’t been gone for that long. 

-But apparently the villains had been waiting for him to leave the house so they could go in. 

-You were still inside with your daughters; the twins chasing each other in their matching onesies while you sat on the living room couch with your youngest.

-You heard the front door open suddenly and at first you assumed that Shoto had forgotten his wallet again.

-But the footsteps were too heavy and his voice didn’t echo through the entrance hall. 

-He always said something when he came in and his footsteps have become lighter ever since the girls were born. 

-Sensing that something was off you placed your toddler in her crib and motioned towards the twins. 

- “Stay with your sister and no matter what you hear you do NOT come into the hallway. Understood?”

- “But what-”

- “Rei do I make myself clear?” 

-Nodding their heads they took their seats in front of the crib, Ren squeezing her hand through the bars to gently grab her sister's chubby hand. 

-Taking a deep breath you entered the hallway and lo and behold, two strangers were staring back at you. 

- “Can I help you gentlemen?” 

-After a few seconds the one closest to the door flung himself at you while the other one started digging through his pockets. 

-Swiftly dodging the attack, you grabbed his wrist and swang him with incredible force to the wall, letting go of him as you turned your attention to the other one. 

-And then you felt a sharp pain course up your right leg as a heaviness settled on your chest. 

-The room began to spin while the air was knocked out of your lungs.

-You kneeled down, hand over your heart as you tried to use your quirk. 

-Nothing happened though; it was like you didn’t have one at all. 

- “Quirk cancelling bullets, aren’t they neat?” 

-The man stared down at you as ever so slowly your senses came back at you. 

- “I can still beat your ass even without a quirk.”

- “I don’t think you’ll do that.”

-Angry voices could be heard from the other room before the man you had slammed into the wall appeared again, blood dripping from his nose and onto the snow white hair of your daughter.

-Ren looked at you, tears forming in her eyes as a red flash of hair jumped onto the man. 

-Rei was having none of it.

-Taking that opportunity you kicked the one in front of you in the groin before separating the girls from the other, sprinting into the living room, closing the sliding doors behind you. 

-Laying the girls on the couch you grabbed one of the fireplace tools and got into a fighting position. 

-Soon enough the door opened revealing none other than Shoto himself.

- “Are you all alright? Did they hurt you?”

-He looked absolutely disheveled, his hair going in different directions as his gaze frantically scanned all four of you, his eyes lingering at your slightly raised leg. 

-The twins hopped off the couch and tackled his legs. 

-Shoto crouched down hugging them both tightly as they started to sniffle into their dad’s chest. 

- “T-they hurt mama and t-tried to hurt Ren.”

-He shot you a look but you waved him off, deciding to instead check on the baby before joining them on the living room floor. 

- “I won’t let them touch you ever again, even if it's the last thing I do.”

Dabi/Touya Todoroki *I ain't never letting this go*

-In reality the dudes didn’t know you were preggos. 

-You were too early on so you couldn’t tell you were preggo but still. 

-They knew that you had something going with Dabi and that’s why they wanted to fuck with you. 

-They thought that they would gain something from trying * key word trying * to take you.

-They were wrong though because a) they got their asses kicked by you and b) they got fried once Dabi found them. 

-You were chilling at Dabis’ while he was out to get you some mustard and a chocolate bar because cravings, when you heard the door open. 

-Immediately you knew it wasn’t Dabi. 

-You would’ve heard him grumbling under his breath about forgetting to take money with him * bc you have been pushing him to pay for stuff every once in a  while* or he would be shouting at you that your disgusting meal had arrived. 

-Neither of these things happened so something was up. 

-Not bothering to get up because you didn’t give two fucks, you waited for whoever stepped inside the apartment to show themselves. 

-You are a villain hun you ain’t about to stress over some crusty ass dude trespassing into your house because you could obliterate his ass from the face of the earth in negative five seconds. 

-Whispers and a frantic “But what if he comes back?” was all you heard before the ground breaking phrase left their mouth. 

- “Who cares? She’s a woman, how strong can she be anyways?”

-You were livid. 

-It might have been a mix of your hormones along with the fact that that was hella sexist but you were ready to beat some crusty ass. 

-Laying down on the couch and pretending to be asleep you waited for them. 

-And soon enough you felt the three figures standing over you. 

- “See easy as hell.” 

- “And hot as hell, please don’t forget that.” 

-All three of them stared down at you like that pikachu meme for a solid minute before scrambling to activate their quirks. 

- “We don’t wanna hurt a pretty girl like you so please don’t cause a fuss.” 

- “Oh baby you think you can hurt me? Please have you seen who I’m dating?” 

-Slowly standing up you flicked your wrist and one of them dropped to the floor. 

-You made your way to the kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water right when one of them ran into you, pinning you to the counter. 

- “Watch it there bud I’m carrying precious carg-”

- “Shut up you fucking slut! You’ll come with us whether you like it or not.” 

- “The only person who can boss me around is not currently in this room so I suggest you let go.” 

- “Yeah you should probably let her go.” 

-At the sound of his deep voice you knew that they were dead men. 

-The one basically on top of you stared at Dabi in horror as you pushed him off of you. 

-Making your way to your boyfriend you gave him a small peck while he rested a hand over you stomach as a silent ‘are you okay?’.

-Shrugging you took the bag from his hands and went into your bedroom, not caring to see what he was about to do to them. 

-You were hungry anyways. 

- “Now which one of you wants to be roasted first?”

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​  @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @bemorefiction​ @ezoyscorner​

[megumitski]

hello these are the bnha fics i’ve read so far and i just made this to track them for myself. favorites are marked with a 💥! more bakudeku plus tododeku and other ships under the cut.

bakudeku

💥 Bluebird - EtherealBeing (53k)

Dialing a wrong number was no unusual occurrence. Everyone did it once in a while, and Katsuki was well aware of that fact.

However, possessing this knowledge made it no less aggravating for him to discover — a full two minutes into his rant about his day — that he’d been venting his frustrations to a complete stranger. As if that wasn't enough, said stranger was also inexplicably determined to hear his story to its end.

Let’s Be Alone Together - lalazee (3k)

Prompt: Deku being aggressively forward in his pursuit of Bakugou, and how that big oaf would react to someone else actually making the first move.

“Are you going to spend your entire life wishing you’d kissed me or are you gonna grow some balls and fucking do it?”

Bell Pepper - ticklishivories (7k)

Midoriya knew they wouldn’t talk about it. He was right. But he never thought it’d happen again.

spilling over every side - failbender (6k)

No good deed goes unpunished, not when there's a crazy lady with a complex and Lust Quirk parading around the city. By now, Katsuki should probably be used to things blowing up in his face.

be loved - bonnia (5k)

They sit there, in the darkness of the common room, about a few centimeters between them, but miles apart. Somehow, the quiet is companionable. More than it has been in many years. Katsuki knows he’s responsible for the rift between them, and he knows even more that it can’t only be Deku who attempts to mend it.

“Hey,” he says, after a while, and Deku turns to him in question, but Katsuki refuses to look his way. “Touch me again.”

(or: the kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands)

Leftovers - brichibi (6k)

“Did you two make up?”

That. That’s why that fight felt like it was worth it, even if, technically, Izuku can’t answer her. Have they made up? Is this making up?

He actually doesn’t know.

[Or: the house arrest fic where it is, somehow, more awkward to talk through feelings than it is to fight]

lust-drunk - theboykingofhell (8k)

The one where Bakugou tries not to lose his mind to lust, and Midoriya is the useless gay who does nothing to help that matter at all.

💥 Quiet Rapture - lalazee (261k) - inc.

That A/B/O fic where cocky Alpha Bakugou falls in mate-love at first scent, while Midoriya is just a poor bookstore-owning Omega who got his nose punched in is a kid and can't smell a damn thing. Also known as: That time an Alpha had to use his actual personality to woo his mate instead of relying on his scent.

💥 A Demolition Boy & his Cryptid BF - kewltie (8k)

Bakugou of the Demolition Squad is famous for running one of the most popular Youtube channels on the web that regularly blow shit up and jumped off a perfectly good building for shit and giggles. He's also famous for his Cryptid BF™, never appearing on camera except for a few bodyshots and all information on him is kept locked up tighter than Fort Knox, therefore drawing all sort of attention and curiosity toward his mysterious boyfriend.

Deku from Deku Explains is a hopeless chatterbox who is known for uploading 20-30 minutes video that talked about his favorite shows and comics and have one of the most devoted following on Youtube. He also can't seem to shut up about his boyfriend Kacchan, who regularly make his presence on the channel as a disembodied voice.

They should theoretically have nothing in common except a shared platform to host their content and an army of fans with an endless curiosity and devotion to their Youtubers. Vidcon is where we lay our scene and the internet is about to get a rude wake up call.

What The Fuck Did You Just Call Me? - reading_raindrop (8k)

“A-ah B-Bakugou! You dropped some pencils!”

Katsuki stiffened. Kirishima and Kaminari froze. Basically, everyone within earshot stopped what they were doing to look at Izuku like he sprouted a second head. What did he just call him? “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Katsuki whipped his head towards Izuku with his signature death glare as he stood up from where he picked up the fallen supplies.

“U-um I said you dropped some pencils! I think this eraser might be yours to-”

“No. What the fuck did you just call me?”

Izuku starts calling him Bakugou and it pisses the explosive teen off a lot more than he thought it would

💥 take care - Chrome (2k)

There are words to say stay safe, I’ll miss you, I love you, but Kacchan has always preferred to leave things unspoken. Izuku isn’t much with languages, but he thinks he’s figured out this one.

---

“Emotional constipation manifested as over-the-top housewifery?” Mina asks. Before Izuku can say that is not what he meant at all, she nods. “Yeah, I can see it.”

Just Look At Me - Colourcubify (52k) - dnf

Midoriya is completely happy with his life. Nope, not one single regret in his twenty-seven years. He especially doesn't regret running into his old childhood friend/bully after almost ten years, nor does he regret spilling coffee all over his very expensive looking suit. How nice it will be to die with no regrets. ~~~~ AKA the sugar daddy AU I meant to be a one shot, that turned into a full fledged story.

A Nest for the Best - Camellia_Sinensis (1k)

Deku’s been nesting and asking everyone in 1-A for pieces of clothing for his horde. Everyone, that is, except Katsuki. Cue the jealousy.

unforgiving - i_write_emotion (19k)

Deku is hit with a quirk that takes away his ability to forgive, and Bakugou’s world comes crashing down. Quirkless!Deku. Pro-hero!Bakugou.

@ Deku WRONG CHAT - katyastark (16k) - inc.

Deku: THE LENGTHS I WOULD GO TO JUST LICK THE SWEAT OFF HIS ABS hnnnnnghhh

Deku: or! like! It doesn’t even have to be his abs! It could be anywhere else! I’m not picky!

Pinky: excuse me what

ChargeDolt: OMG

Uravity: @Deku WRONG CHAT

I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married. - InkspillsNotebook (6k)

Ta-Da!!!! I hope you all enjoy the finished product!!! I'm sorry (not sorry) I broke a lot of you when I first posted this to tumblr!!

Procrastination - capncapk (5k)

But it is still surprising to see his more-than-friend-but-also-lover-he-guesses in his office seeking attention though Izuku already turned him down.

Usually he'll get a text of 'wyd?' followed by a time and place if Izuku responds with a confirmation, and silence if he's busy.

Or slammed into the wall in the agency's shower for a quickie if no one was around, which despite his anxiety, he often acquiesces to.

While You Were Sleeping - Belkacaramelka (71k)

The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Quirkless AU based on the film; endgame BakuDeku. -- Katsuki didn’t know when the change had happened: how he had gone from asking why Todoroki chose Deku of all people, to wondering why it was Todoroki that Deku chose. Troublesome Deku, who cooed like an idiot at cats, tripped at a random catcall and sang badly. Who, despite everything, proved that it wasn’t the quirk that defined a person. Deku, who was too much, not his, and undeniably off limits to begin with.

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) - vannral (16k)

In complete honesty, no one who knows the Class 3-A should be surprised anymore. Izuku is asleep.

In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

Yes, They’re All Safe - teaandtumblr (5k)

Villains have entered UA grounds and are disposed of just as quickly, but that doesn't mean a headcount of the students doesn't need to be done. Toshinori would admit, he wasn't quite prepared for what he found in Bakugou Katsuki's room.

💥 all choked up - spicyrabbit (5k)

Bakugou Katsuki had a habit of turning away from the heard. At 16, he does this by coming to terms with wanting, desperately, to see his childhood friend cry.

💥 May I take your order, dipshit? - supercrunch (6k)

So, like, maybe Bakugou wasn’t really the best choice for this whole pizza delivery shindig.

(Midoriya in love, Bakugou in denial, and way, way too much cheese.

A BakuDeku romance in thirty minutes or less. )

blooms every hour - dynamighttiddy (7k)

“It’s you, okay?!” Deku screams. “It’s you. And I know you’ll never love me back, so -” Deku wipes his eyes and straightens. “So just leave it.”

-----

Deku has hanahaki, and Katsuki doesn't know how to save him.

all choked up - dynamighttiddy (7k)

“Deku, what the fuck are you doing?!”

Izuku asks Kacchan to help him train blackwhip. Things don't exactly go according to plan.

A Fight To The Death - iknewaman (10k)

Izuku isn’t competitive by nature, but when the blond, cocky asshole from the other table’s team gets involved he suddenly becomes hellbent on winning.

Rival Pub Quiz AU

💥 Like the Moon - osakakitty (15k)

Katsuki Bakugo is having constant, erotic dreams about Izuku Midoriya. He isn’t sure why, but they won’t go away. In order to make them stop, he needs to figure out what Izuku Midoriya means to him.

Canon-verse story in which Bakugo is confused about his feelings for Midoriya, and doesn’t know what he wants. Besides a good night’s sleep.

💥 We Wear Chains on the Weekend - surveycorpsjean (35k)

Well, in a day of revelations, it turns out that Izuku isn't as vanilla as Katsuki previously thought. Unfortunately, that fascinating discovery is overshadowed by Izuku's dumbassery, because he has zero concept of aftercare.

"Don't go to anyone else," Katsuki says, because screw it. He can do a better job anyways.

Or; Katsuki finds Izuku on a bad drop.

take me out to dinner first - dynamighttiddy (3k)

“Kacchan,” Deku chides. “What’s going on?”

Katsuki takes a deep breath.

He trusts Deku with his life. He can trust him with this, too.

“Have sex with me.”

-----

Katsuki Bakugou is one of the only virgins left in class 3-A - and with graduation just around the corner, he's desperate to change that.

💥 that ultra kind of love - dynamighttiddy (11k)

“So, uh,” Kirishima starts. “Was that your first kiss?” he whispers, almost sheepish. Katsuki’s stomach drops, and he freezes. Memories of green eyes and freckles and soft lips flash behind his eyelids. “Yeah,” he lies easily. “That was my first kiss.”

-----

In which Bakugou pretends Kirishima is his first kiss, amongst other things.

to the moon and back - kewltie (1k)

"He gets stupid when he's drunk," Katsuki seethes in his seat as he watches Izuku croon love notes into Uraraka's throat. He’d never met a worst lightweight then Deku, who become some kind of demented affectionate monster.

💥 Bridges - supercrunch (18k)

Yaomomo sighs. “We’ve got a little bit of a situation, Bakugou. Ashi—uhm, somebody might have accidentally signed you up for that modelling gig.”

Katsuki holds up a hand. "So what you’re telling me here," he says, "is that you told Calvin Klein I would model for them. In my underwear.”

Ashido sinks behind a desk to hide. “Yes.”

(The thing is, they really do need the money. And Katsuki's technically the leader of this bunch of morons, so he finds himself taking the job even though his pride will never recover. And even though nobody thought to tell him that he'd be working with his ex-boyfriend. You know, the cute freckled guy from high school who went and broke his heart.

So, yeah. This whole situation kind of sucks.)

Crescendo - supercrunch - inc. (4k)

(Izuku's band is on their way to the top of the charts. But the real star, he thinks, is the drummer.)

Guilty Kiss - osakakitty (1k)

He could feel Midoriya's eyes on him. Even though he knew it was wrong, Bakugo still wet his lips in anticipation.

(Canon-verse) A short story about making out in a closet. It's messy, but so is their relationship.

💥 Surfaces - surveycorpsjean (25k)

Katsuki has a new girlfriend, but something isn't right.

As impossible as it is, Izuku can't help but wonder what it'd be like to be called Katsuki's girl.

Classical conditioning - supercrunch (8k)

(or: how to trick a boy into going out with you.)

Alright. Maybe his idiot friends had a point, Katsuki thinks as he shoulders open the front door. His mother’s in the living room drinking coffee. Katsuki kicks off his shoes and stomps over. “Am I charming?” he demands, blocking the TV.

Mitsuki pats his cheek. “Oh, hon. Not at all.”

💥 Dance Bunny - EllaBesmirched (17k)

Katsuki Bakugou spends most week nights by himself, sitting in a corner at his local strip club and passing time until he feels tired enough to sleep. Work leaves him stressed and the new city he moved to a year ago is just different enough that he can't sleep at night and can't seem to get comfortable no matter where he is.

When he finally changes up his schedule and decides to head to the club on a Saturday night, he is instantly infatuated with a part-time dancer who can do things with his body that Katsuki didn't even know were possible. The dancer calls himself Bunny. By the second lap dance, Katsuki realizes he is in trouble.

but the entrails are the best part! - supercrunch (15k)

The boy straightens up. He’s about half a head shorter than Katsuki, face soft and youthful and sweet. He turns to look at him properly. His dark hair shines in the dying light, basket of blooms looped over one arm and mouth quirked into a tiny half-smile. The sun hits his face and makes his eyes a bright greeny-gold, just like emeralds.

Katsuki likes emeralds.

“Pretty,” he says, reaching out and picking the stranger up around the middle. He’s surprisingly heavy, although Katsuki doesn’t mind. “I like you. Come see my nest.”

The boy hits him.

He’s stronger than he looks, turns out. Katsuki drops him and falls onto his back, pain blooming across his face. Birds sing. The sky’s a lovely shade of orange, clouds floating lazily by. The boy scarpers. He leaves his basket of flowers behind, footsteps thumping on the ground and fading away as he escapes.

The sun sets. Katsuki, lying flat on his back with a bloody nose, decides he’s just fallen in love.

tododeku

(You Know You’re Really) Cute - ladyhoneydarlinglove (2k)

Kirishima poses the question, who’s the cutest boy in Class 1-A? The answers kind of surprise everyone, especially Midoriya.

Everything Except - Pouler (28k)

"In retrospect, Midoriya probably should’ve realized the moment they were enveloped in a glittering pink cloud that something was about to go Very Wrong."

After an encounter with a unique villain threatens to change the nature of their partnership, Midoriya must find a way to get things back to normal between him and Todoroki. That is, if he's certain that getting 'back to normal' is what he really wants...

count your blessings, not your flaws - PitViperOfDoom (7k)

Midoriya Izuku has never been asked out, confessed to, or flirted with, except as a joke.

Riddles in the Heart - PitViperOfDoom (19k)

The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye.

Of course, there's only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.

Late bloomer - Nohaljiachi (10k)

That’s why when they’ve found themselves face to face on the ring of the sport festival once more, for the third time ever since they’ve met each other, and Izuku smiled at him, eager and challenging, self-confident but never full of himself, Shouto blinked, dazed and shocked, in realizing just how blindingly beautiful his best friend was. The way Izuku’s white shirt clung on his muscles, the little peek of his collar bone and the hard lines of his pecs visible under it, the way his thighs curved and filled the school gym uniform.

‘Oh, fuck—‘ Shouto thought, his head spinning, feeling like he just got run over by a freight train. ‘Shit. He’s- hot?’

Burn and Breathe - PitViperOfDoom (11k)

Soulmates are connected through pain, and some bonds have more to share than others. Todoroki Shouto wishes he could reject his soulmate. Midoriya wants nothing more than to protect his own.

one string, fit for a bow - furihatachlookie (5k)

There was no magical moment that played a part in Midoriya's realization that he liked Todoroki. The thin red string that greeted him every time he looked down at his hand was an obvious factor, yes, but it wasn't love at first sight either.

It sorta just... happened over time.

fire and feelings - kagshina (8k)

“Uh…” he starts, eyes widening. “Your finger’s on fire.”

Todoroki’s face scrunches together, confused, and then he looks down, noticing the flame. Midoriya watches as shock flashes across Todoroki’s face, and then horror, and then finally settles on embarrassment as he puts out the flame.

“Shit,” Todoroki mumbles, and Midoriya’s lip curves upward.

bakutododeku 

💥 Fire in the Mountains - EllaBesmirched (168k)

“I’ll do it.”

Enji froze, fingers curling into a fist at his side, and didn’t turn around.

Shouto froze too, feeling his own eyes widen in shock at the words that had come out of his mouth, at the fact that he had actually stood up, followed his father out of the room, and dashed after him all just to say… he’d do it? He would do it? Him. Shouto Todoroki. He would--

Enji finally turned around and fixed Shouto with an expression so scathing, Shouto had to fight to keep his chin raised. “You’ll marry the Barbarian King.”

Shouto blinked. “Yes.”

The Ballad of Love and Hate - EllaBesmirched (6k)

After eight painfully long years, Katsuki finally has Izuku back. He's determined to keep him this time, and to do that, he knows there are some things he has to say.

(mis)matched - ethydium (12k)

Midoriya doesn't hate the idea of finding one's soulmate, even though he had long since given up on finding his own. And then Bakugou and Todoroki match, and while he's happy for them, his heart breaks from all the unsaid things he feels for them.

Or:

Midoriya pines and suffers his way to his own happy ending.

pillowed by love - ethydium (21k)

As a prank, Uraraka gets Midoriya a body pillow (dakimakura) with the image of Bakugou printed on it. Then another one with Todoroki's picture. Chaos ensues.

other

For who could learn to love a beast? - supercrunch (4k) - bakutodo

Bakugou takes a deep breath and steps out into the living room, eyes automatically adjusting to the change in light. There’s a boy hanging up his coat in the hall. He’s handsome, albeit in an annoying way, hair dyed two colours to match his heterochromia and skin pale and perfect and smooth. He looks expensive. “Bakugou.”

“That’s me,” Bakugou says. “You’re younger than I expected.”

“I’m older than I look.”

(Deku was right, damn him. Pretty boys are Bakugou's type.)

Want it All - surveycorpsjean (29k) - kiribakutododeku

“Hey, so..." Eijirou grins. "Can we ask you guys a question?"

Frankendick and the Great Acid Fiasco - EllaBesmirched (11k) - shiggyxdabi

Dabi had been intending to spend a very nice Saturday getting stoned and plotting murder, thank you very much, but when a trio of UA brats on enough L to kill a Beatle accidentally dose him and two other unsuspecting homicidal maniacs, Dabi has to change his plans a bit. Apparently no else around here knows how to trip balls and fucking enjoy it.

The Twitter - EllaBesmirched (8k) - tododenki

Shouto never really intended for anyone to find his secret Twitter account. He certainly didn't intend for Kaminari to see Shouto's thirst tweets about him. Luckily, Kaminari doesn't seem to mind.

pray you catch me - supercrunch (4k)

Katsuki pushes her shirt up to kiss her stomach. It’s silly, how it makes her heart flutter, how Izuku’s whispered I love you threatens to make her cry all over again. They’re unwrapping her from her clothes. They won’t let her hide, she thinks numbly. Won’t let her curl in on herself like she’s something dirty, Katsuki’s hands tugging off her underwear so she’s naked and exposed between them. “I,” she says breathlessly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying. I’m just being dumb.”

Izuku shushes her. Another tear trickles down her cheek and into her ear. He kisses it away, humming, brushing her bangs off her forehead so he can press his mouth between her brows. “You have every right to be upset. We’ll deal with him later. For now just let us take care of you.”

“She’ll get the message once you stop talking and fuck her,” Katsuki says, slipping his fingers into her. She clenches around him and shudders. “Gonna eat you out ‘til you forget how to move. Now put that fucking motor mouth to good use, Deku.”

[jimlingss]

Maybe Baby Retreat

➜ Words: 12.7k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut

➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.

[Day One]   Taehyung should be fucking you.   It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus.    The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it.   Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you.   “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.”   “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.”   “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar.   You suppose it was your fault to begin with.   All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive.    The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind.   “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?”   It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere.   “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!”   There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs.   The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter.    Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed.   “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old.    “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword.   You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort.   “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!”   You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you.   “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.”   He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.”   Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!”   There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel.   Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.”   She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs.   Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!”    “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.”   It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims.   “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.”   The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt.   “Not too bad, right?”    Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt.   “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.”   “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?”   “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.”   But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch.    And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?”   You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.”   “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.”   You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”   “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.”   You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand.   “Is that...even sanitary?!”    You can’t imagine how many people have used it.   “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.”   “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.”   Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?”   “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.”   Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here.   “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well.   When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate.   “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period.   “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another.   “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.”   “Damn straight.”   The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.”   You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?”   “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.”   She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs.   Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.”   “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation.   “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.”   “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.”   “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.”   Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.”   It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night.   The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious.   It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide.   “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!”   Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.”   “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks.   After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet.   It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling.   The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it.   Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?”   “Mhmh...”    You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket.   “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?”   “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?”   “About half an hour?”   Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth.   “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.”   You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush.    In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember.   And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband.   Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?”   “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.”   He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.”   You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.”   A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.”   “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.”   “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.”   After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

[Day Two]   Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows.   “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting.   “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.”   “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.”   “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—”   “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him.    It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible.   Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics.   “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!”   “Don’t you trust me?”   You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?”   The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do.   There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses.   You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun.   Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.”   You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions.    “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.”   “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been.   But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too.   “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.”   What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard.   “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.”   You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy.   “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.”   Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.”   You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt.   The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times.   “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo.   “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?”   “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?”   Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.”   “We’re going on a hike?!”   “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation.   The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join.   Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline.    No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group.   Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?”   “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are.    “I can carry you if you want.”   “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs.    You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac.   “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again.   “Isn’t this better?”   “Aren’t you tired?”   “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.”   You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall.    There, you’re finally on set on your feet again.   You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.”   He grins and downs it.   Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts.   “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient.   “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.”   “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.”   “I can take it for you.”   “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing.   A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?”   Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.”   She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.”   Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.”   The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?”   “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.”    It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish.   “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.”   Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?”   You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.”   “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone.   “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.”   His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.”   “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents.   “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.”   Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.”   She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.”   “T-two weeks?” you sputter.   Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.”   Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman.   It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood.   “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.”   “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.”   Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.”   “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously.   Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?”   “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.”   She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…”   But his voice drowns out.   You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you.   The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt.    “What’s wrong?”   You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?”   “You’ve just been quiet.”   “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?”   His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”   “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.”   “That’s not true.”   “We forget to buy food all the time.”   “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins.   You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.”   “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.”   “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.”   You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.”   “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.”   “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile.   Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.”   You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it.   It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.”   It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub.   “Is it warm?”   Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled.   “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?”   “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink.   “What are you doing?”   “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties.   After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver.   “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!”   Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and—   “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac.   “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?”   “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.”   You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?”   “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air.   You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude.    You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge.   Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat.   “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek.   “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder.   He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.”   “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule.   “Let them hear.”   He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness.    Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try.    Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.”    “Yeah, and I know you like it.”   He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach.   “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?”   “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.”   “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control.   The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist.    Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?”   You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it.    “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.”   “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.”   A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices.   “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.”   “What?”   “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed.   He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?”   “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.”   “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.”   “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.”   “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff.    Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance.   You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully.   “How was it?”   “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder.   “No.”   “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.”   “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?”   “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.”   You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg.   Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?”   “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.”   “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?”   “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room.   Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles.    With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction.   “Okay. Ready?”   “Uh-huh.”   The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.”   “Now what?”   “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble.   “T-Taehyung!”   “Good?”   “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote.   He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.”   Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!”   “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard.   It clatters to the ground.   “Oh shit.”   “Taehyung!”   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.”   He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma.   You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy.   The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons.   “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.”   “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.”   Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.”   He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him.    When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat.   He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.”   “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck.   “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.”   It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing.   He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm.   “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.”   He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.”   Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.

[Day Three]   There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all.   “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil.   “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table.    Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you.   You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do.   But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!”   You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.”   Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?”   Taehyung grins. “Probably.”   “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?”   “Sure.”   You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself.    It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you.    Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot.   But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge.   “Remember Bali?”   “When you lost your passport?”   “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.”   “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.”   He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”   You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?”   “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?”   You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.”   “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.”   “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?”   “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.”   “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?”   None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.”   “You and I both know that’s not true.”   “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water.   There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view⁠—   “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has.   “What?”    “Wanna take a dip?”   Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?”   “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does.   “God, it’s so cold!”    The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping ⁠— something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you.   “It’s freezing, Taehyung!”   “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?”   You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.”   “Why?”   “You know I can’t swim.”   His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.”   Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.”   “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”   You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.”   “You only like me?”   “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.”   Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff.   You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore.   “Who would?”   “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.”   “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you.   The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds.   “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat.   After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again.   You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock.   He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.

[Day Four]   Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before.   He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone.   But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you.   Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls.   “Morning.”   You sheepishly grin. “Morning.”    “What time did you get up?”   “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.”   “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun.   The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over.   “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.”   But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering.   Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin.   “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.”   He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile.   As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy.   //   The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks.   “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…”   “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.”   What.   Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.”   “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice.   “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.”   “What were you talking about?”   “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.”   “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.”   “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand.   “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”   You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.”   The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.”   As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?”   “Yeah. It was nice.”   Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly.    As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.”   “Second...partner?”    “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.”   “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away.   “Do you want an open relationship too?”   “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.”   He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?”   “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?”   “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.”    Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife.   “Are you jealous?”   “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.”   “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins.   “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.”   //   Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner.   “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.”   You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—”   “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.”   You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.”   Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.”   “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?”   It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees.   The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off.   But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists.   You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too.   He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round.   You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.

[Day Five]   The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry.   “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”   “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.”   “Yes, I really loved it.”   “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.”   You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures.    “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.”   “So soon?”   Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands.   Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes.   Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats.   “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.”   He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours.   The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.

[Epilogue]   This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous.   “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes.   “Are you divorcing me?”   “No.”   “Did you lose your job?”   “No.”   His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.”   “Yea— wait. What?”   Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?”   He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion.   “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.”   He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks.    It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face.   “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs.   “I sure am.”   He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?”   You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.”   He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.”   Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement.   “We can always go back for the next kid.”   “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.”   “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile.   You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.