#so why not just commit and do right by your audience?

[bird-inacage]

Firstkhao's Appeal: Soulmates (Love in it's Purest Form)

I saw the videos that fans posted from The Heart Killers Fan Meeting in New York where First had been unwell. It broke my heart to see him apologise and feel so guilty for something as human as being sick 😢.

Khaotung was visibly very worried. He kept casting concerned and lingering glances in First's direction. I imagine they were both trying to be lowkey about it (likely due to First's wishes). But watching First attempting to push on with a smile, which Khaotung could see right through, had them both a bit teary. Khaotung clearly couldn't bear seeing him like that and First couldn't bear seeing Khaotung upset because of him.

To have someone by your side who hurts when you're in pain, who will cry for you when you're trying to be strong, whose very presence is your safe space when you're suffering, must be a huge comfort. They looked ready to ball their eyes out during the performance of 'My Fuel'. The meaning of that song would have hit very close to home right there and then.

I also found it so respectful that Khaotung asked for First's consent before divulging this with the audience. Because he knew how hard First was trying to appear normal, and didn't want to undermine that effort. Still, out of fierce love and devotion for his best friend - he wanted everyone to know that First did his absolute best. Eager to affirm First's commitment and dedication, who felt like he still didn't do enough. And in turn, First gets why his friend would like to speak up on his behalf, and lets him. There's so much unspoken trust there.

This is why Firstkhao attract so much admiration. The level of care and support is so sincere. Even through a screen, I feel it's intensity. FK's definition of their relationship as soulmates, couldn't be more fitting. First recently conveyed a similar sentiment, but I have always believed it's reductive to consider the term 'soulmates' in just a romantic context. If you needed any proof of that - this is it. Their partnership surpasses that of lovers, best friends, companions, allies or family. They are each other's person.

I'm just grateful the THK boys are such a supportive quartet. I hope First is taking some well deserved rest to recuperate, considering what a rigorous tour schedule they're currently on. It's very reassuring to know that Khaotung is with him, so there's no doubt he's in very safe hands. Please take it easy you precious sweethearts, our hearts ache for you when you're run down. I feel for all the fans who were in the audience, it would have been very hard not to cry along with them. I can't believe I'll be seeing them in the flesh in just over a month.

[bbgsaja]

⳽ωɩtᥴᖾ ᥙρ (ᙖᥲᑲყ ᔑᥲʝᥲ x ᖴ!ᕼᥙᥒtᥱɾ!ᖇᥱᥲᑯᥱɾ) ρt ꧶

summary - the Idol Awards show is here, and it's finally time to seal away Kwan and lock Gwi-Ma and his demons up in their realm. it won't be easy, but none of you are alone warnings - none

a/n - part 10 will be the last part, though depending on how that goes i might just write an epilogue as well 🫶 part one • part two • part three • part four • part five • part six • part seven • part eight • part nine • part ten

"What is this?"

As Mira held up your hand, displaying the ring adorning it, Baby opened his mouth to answer. But Romance cut him off with a very dramatic gasp.

"Baby made the commitment! He's finally growing up!"

"Shut up," Baby growled.

You laughed as they teased him, like four annoying older brothers. When they'd first arrived, they hadn't been so close but thanks to you and the girls, they were now practically family. Just like how you considered Mira, Rumi and Zoey your sisters.

"Okay, what's the deal?" Mira asked, "It's just a ring, right?"

Romance was practically giddy, "No. When a demon gifts their partner, girlfriend, soulmate - you pick - something, it's usually imbued with a part of them. An everlasting commitment."

You looked at the ring, then at Baby, "What?"

"You gave me my soul back," he stepped closer, taking your hands in his. "So part of it is yours. My future."

Your face burned at his words, something stronger than butterflies blooming in your stomach. Your heartbeat sped up, and as you stared at the teal-haired rapper you forgot how to move, how to speak, how to think.

"I-you-" You couldn't even form a coherent sentence.

"So...are they married, then?" Zoey asked, a little confused by what Romance meant when he said 'everlasting commitment'.

"'Marriage' is a human concept," Jinu shook his head. "This is far deeper, more meaningful, and stronger than a legal binding. Baby bound his soul to hers."

You stared at Baby, drinking in every word, "Me?"

"It's always been you," he answered, bringing your hand to his lips so he could kiss the soul-infused ring.

Then Bobby rushed in to call you guys to get ready. Your head was spinning as you followed the others, staring at the back of your boyfriend's head. Struggling to comprehend such a meaningful gesture.

Everything you'd learned about demons had been wrong.

Or maybe hunters just hadn't learned enough.

As you approached the stage, you couldn't hear the fans screaming and singing like they usually do. Your stomach dropped, realising exactly why that was the case.

"We have to get up there, now!"

Ignoring the stage crew, you rushed to the platform that was supposed to take you girls up to the stage. The boys vanished in puffs of purple smoke, no doubt reappearing on stage to initiate your shared performance.

When the platform finally rose and brought you and the rest of Huntrix up, chills ran down your spine at how eerily silent the stadium was. Except for Kwan's voice, and now Jinu's, both progressively getting louder as they tried to sing over one another.

Rumi's part shifted the balance, her words and her voice joining Jinu's in drowning out Kwan. In the audience, you noticed one, two, three souls reigniting.

You, Mira and Zoey started dancing around him, trying not to make your movements too obvious. You had memorised the shape of the pentagram, and it was now burned into your mind so you could move fluidly and gracefully.

That was until Kwan's hand closed around your wrist and, without disrupting either performance, swung you into his own twisted dance.

You glared up at him as you sung louder, only to realise that glaring wouldn't help. So you softened your expression, pictured Baby in front of you, and continued singing and dancing the way Huntrix do - in a manner that inspired and uplifted the audience.

Mira, Zoey and Rumi continued dancing in the pentagram shape, trying to conceal their growing concern. Around you, the fans were waking up from their dazes and starting to cheer, getting louder.

A low growl rumbled through Kwan's chest, his grip on your waist tightening. Claws dug into your skin and you winced, blood seeping into the black fabric of your skirt. Invisible to everyone else, but not untraceable to your demon boyfriend, who struggled not to growl when he smelled your blood.

Kwan's claws dug deeper, drawing more blood, trying to slow your movements and incapacitate you.

And then you were gracefully pulled away from the ancient demon, swung right into a familiar chest. You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't Baby, but Romance was much better than Kwan. He looked down at you in concern, but you smiled weakly, reassuring him you could manage.

That is, until you stumbled.

Once more, your body was succumbing to lethargy, your legs wobbling. Only years of practice as an idol kept you upright, but Romance knew what you needed.

Baby was waiting, a fluid twirl in his direction landing you in his arms. He hissed when his fingers made contact with your blood. But instantly, you were energised. Or, as energised as you could be with ten claw puncture points in your waist.

Rumi, Mira and Zoey were almost finished with the pentagram, but they needed you to complete it.

However, before you could even attempt to move that way, Jinu joined them and filled in for you. For a moment, you were afraid that might not work, but his connection with Rumi saved the performance.

The fans started cheering louder, singing along.

Their heartbeats one, channeling power to you and the others.

"Wait!" Kwan yelled, visibly panicked now, "Don't you want to know why I did what I did to that village?"

"Not really, no," you snarled, slamming your foot down on the ground in time with eight others.

That lit up the floor in the shape of a pentagram, golden light searing Kwan's skin. He shrieked in pain, but that was drowned out by Huntrix's voices and his disappearance hidden by the Saja Boys moving hypnotically in front of him, captivating the fans.

The performance became seamless after that.

Each person moving in almost-perfect sync with the others, voices in perfect harmony. The fans grew louder, louder than anything you'd heard so far, and as you looked across the stadium you saw thousands of souls alight with the sound of your music.

You sung louder, more passionately, though your movements were a bit slower because of your wounds. There was no time to take care of them, you had to finish this and you had to finish it now.

"NO!"

A roar shook the earth as you watched the glowing Honmoon lines start to shimmer a golden colour. Your eyes lit up, and you looked at the other girls in excitement.

But your energy was starting to wane, and your legs were starting to wobble. You had lost blood, and it was making you woozy.

You grew worried that you might just make the performance fall short with your slower steps and weakened voice, but then the ring on your finger grew warm and suddenly your body was revitalised, though only temporarily.

You locked eyes with Baby across the stage as the song came to an end, his hand making that half-heart against his face. The fans screamed so loud you swore the entire stadium shook, gold spreading throughout the Honmoon. Sealing the demons and Gwi-Ma away for good.

Through blurry vision you saw your friends rushing towards you as you keeled over.

And then passed out.

You woke up in your own bed, eyes blinking away your weariness. Your body felt like it had been beaten with a meat tenderiser, your muscles aching with even the slightest movement.

"Where do you think you're going?" A sleepy voice mumbled from beside you.

You turned and saw Baby lying there with one eye open, on you.

"I didn't move?"

"You were gonna."

"I'm fine-"

Both his eyes snapped open, all sleep leaving him, "No. You don't get to say that." You started to say something, but he stopped you, "He hurt you, (Name). He hurt you. With the same claws that I..." He stopped himself, but you knew what he was thinking.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, "You're not like him. You'd never hurt me."

"You were bleeding in my hands."

Baby was shaken. The usually calm, languid boy was trembling, holding you to his chest like he wanted to merge your bodies. His grip on you tightened like he didn't want to ever let go.

"I'm here, Baby," you murmured, kissing the top of his head. "I'm safe. And I trust you." You didn't flinch as his claws came out, digging into your hoodie as if he wanted to get a firmer hold on you. "These?" You lifted one of his clawed hands to your face, "Would never hurt me." To make your point, you pressed that hand against your cheek. Leaned into his touch, claws and all.

His breath caught.

"When the ring was warm on my finger...was that you?" You asked quietly, tenderly.

"Yeah," he switched your positions, wrapping his arms around you this time. Nuzzling his face against the warm skin of your neck. "You needed me, so I borrowed you some of my strength."

"Is that how it works?" Your jaw dropped slightly.

"Mhm."

And then you heard it: a low rumble, not a growl, but a...

"You purr?!"

tag list - @tenaciouskittenpuff @tiger-lilee-5 @seavnz @haru-reto @redkitsu03 @pearthesimp @arieslucy @matsugumisou @lonelyminh @justanindiangirl12 @anonymousewrites @nyanyanihao @snowy-violet @yumi-does-stuff @iluvshifting

[usedpidemo]

Cherry ((G)I-dle Minnie)

For you, nothing compares to seeing your favorite artist live, doing what they love the most.

For Minnie, nothing compares to the continued echo of a roaring crowd screaming her name.

But when it’s all said and done, nothing compares to the sound of her one and only fan shouting her name while he’s giving every last inch into her.

—————

Checking your phone, you see the posts on social media. While everyone else is still inside that stadium, Minnie is nowhere to be found, disappearing right after her 30 minute set, no-showing the arbitrary farewell walk around to the fans. Not that everyone cares or will give her heat for her sudden absence, but her presence leaves quite a noticeable hole in the venue.

Judging by how she’s opening the door to her hotel room, you can guess as to where she’s gone. 

Looking through your recorded footage, her eyes kept a steady track on you, as if she personally singled you out. Giving you flirty winks, subtle flying kisses in your direction, smiling at you even as she hosts the rest of the audience between transitions—the signs were there all along. You were caught up in the moment of her performance to properly notice.

That, and your intrusive handmade banner is quite easy for her to notice.

Speaking of—Minnie’s been holding your banner the entire ride back, finally setting it aside on the dining table. With every glance at your simple ‘I love you’ message, her gummy smile only widens. It’s heartwarming to see your effort be rewarded in quite the grandiose manner. A simple acknowledgement would have been enough—a simple heart, a wave, a general glance in your direction, anything.

You never expected to share a ride back to her hotel before she personally guided you inside her personal place.

She always points out how cute your handwriting is. That you went out of your way to write in Thai, even if it's evidently using Google Translate, saying that she’ll keep it in her place in appreciation. 

And so, you have to address the elephant in the room:

“Why me?” you ask, as your gaze wanders around her hotel room, quite simple in design and only meant for simple overnight stays. You can see the venue you were in minutes ago from the large window, a lifetime away thanks to the nighttime traffic. 

“Because I saw it!” Minnie replies, grinning, falling into her usual idol posture like muscle memory. Hands folded together, classy, even if her still-worn stage outfit says otherwise. Casually flaunting off her tight figure and toned little belly just for you. It’s hypnotic. “Flew in from far away just to see me perform here? You’re committed.”

“I mean—you haven’t performed in my country in years,” you remark, bitter at the thought. One of your driving motivations is to at least see her if the worst happened. Fortunately, they’re here to stay a little longer. Nevertheless, your patience was far past its breaking point, and you had to take matters into your own hands. “You have no idea how long I waited for you to come back.”

Minnie frowns, apologetic and empathetic over your plight. “Sorry. We want to reach out and perform everywhere, but—”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard it all the time, no need to remind me,” you interrupt, unwilling to hear the same rote excuse for the umpteenth time. Of course it’s the company’s fault, and not you for living in an unprofitable market for international artists to perform. “But that doesn’t matter now. If you ever go and tour, I’ll try flying out here again, like I did just for you.”

Almost immediately, her downcast expression shifts into a look of joy. “Aw. I hope it doesn’t mean you’re going broke for us. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course not,” is your reply, as if you anticipated this exact response. “I wouldn’t even think about going on this trip if I knew I’d be eating cup noodles for the next month.”

“Sounds fun,” Minnie jests, approaching you and brushing loose strands of your hair covering your forehead. Cupping a hand on your cheek, she whispers against your other cheek, her breath hot: “I’ll pay for whatever you need. Flight tickets, hotel accommodation, transportation—name it and I got you covered.”

“Everything’s been accounted for, but I appreciate the thought,” you remark, your eyes following hers. Staring into each other’s gaze intently, her warmth and sincerity in full bloom, you’re falling deeper in love with her. “I—I just didn’t think this would ever happen.”

“No one does,” is her remark, tone sensual, pulling your head closer against hers. “Now I want to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“Of course.”

Her breath tickles your ear, sending chills down your spine. “What’s your favorite song I did tonight?”

You pause, give her a subtle smile, which she immediately reads. Like she already has a clue.

“I think you already know the answer.”

She breathes against your skin in the shape of a chuckle and a smirk. The song begins to play moments later, courtesy of her own phone.

Minnie quietly mouths the lyrics in your ear, and you can’t help but lean closer to get a feel of her lips kissing your skin. You sense the ripple of her waist against yours, a gentle rustle of her shrinking skirt. You engross yourself in the moment that you don’t notice her hands dragging you with her in the direction of the living room couch.

Pushing you onto the sofa right as the second line hits, Minnie continues mouthing the words to her own song effortlessly, dancing before you so sexily knowing she’d never try on stage in a million years, even with their group’s more risque concepts. Her eyes demand every bit of your attention—not that you had anything else in mind but her. 

A private performance, meant only for you. Turning her hotel room into a club, you’d be throwing what little money you have for her if you had anything left. 

And by God, she loves it. Relishing how whipped you are for her. Doesn’t matter if it’s one or thousands, she lives for the attention and praise.

As the chorus hits, Minnie drops to the floor, stomach down ass up, kicking her heels up in the air, her stare remaining fixated at you all throughout. Rehearsed and practiced, yet looking so natural. You can only watch in awe, wondering how long she’s been waiting for the opportunity, how many times she’s done this before to others, and how the stars perfectly aligned for you to have this personalized moment.

It’s torturing you right now that you can’t reach out and touch her, even if you wanted to.

Picking herself off the floor, she saunters toward you, your nerves tensing with every moment, every step forward. Fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your pants, it’s all purposeful how she moves: every sway of her hips, her hands running down her svelte figure, the twirl when she’s standing right between your legs, flaunting her petite ass peeking through her skirt before squatting down in front of you, an arm’s reach away.

The lyrics perfectly describe the situation: 

“Oh no, here we go. Watch me shake it low.”

It’s like she’s daring you to take her and make her yours.

Her ass lingers far longer than what you can perceive. No matter how desperate you are, you can’t bring yourself to move a muscle, do anything but admire and watch helplessly even as Minnie offers herself to you on a silver platter. Not for lack of trying; your mind can’t handle what’s happening right now.

She looks over shoulder with a wicked grin, as if this isn’t the first time she’s left someone victimized with her deliberate teasing.

As if that wasn’t enough, when she spins around to face you, she drags your hands off your pants, replacing them with her own. Leaning forward, her hot breath reacquainting with your skin, followed by the faintest of air kisses. Slowly but surely, she clambers onto your lap, creating unbearable heat between your legs. 

There’s no denying it now. 

Instinctively, your hands find purchase on her ass, squeezing them hard, drawing a moan out of her. Minnie responds in kind, rolling her head back, grinding her hips on your lap, fanning the flames. Her tummy right in your face, you bend forward and kiss her, tracing a path up to her crop top, resting between her chest. Her fingers find their way around your neck, inching herself closer to you till you can hardly breathe.

“Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do this,” she sighs, breaking herself free from the immersion of her own performance. Glancing down to find your face between her bra, she pulls on your face, drawing your gaze to meet hers. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” you huff, returning to kiss her bra. “But I’ve got a feeling this wasn’t the first time.”

Minnie laughs. “No shit.”

“Just you, or do the others—”

“You already know,” she interrupts, cupping your chin and redirecting your eyes back on her, shutting you up. “Now can we go back to the moment?”

Without another word, she leans down and meets you for a passionate kiss. Eyes closed, letting your feelings do all the talking. At that moment, you’re not fan and idol, but two lovers finding solace in each other’s arms. The only break is when she pulls back to lift your shirt over your head before you’re passionately making out to her own song again.  

She doesn’t even bring up the fact that your hands have been on her ass the whole time. If anything, with every squeeze, she moans softly into your mouth, making music.

But you can’t stay like this for long. Not when you’re both close to reaching your natural climax.

Breaking off the kiss for a second time, Miinie takes a moment to admire you, smiling. Her face, flushed with crimson and lust, keeps you in place while she silently unhooks her top, slipping it off her shoulders before tossing it to the floor and joining your shirt.

Before she tries to kiss you again, the sudden music stoppage snaps both your attention. 

“Ah, fuck me,” Minnie whines, quickly climbing off your lap to reach for the phone on the other side of the living room, buzzing loudly as she races to shut it down as quickly as possible. Giving you a proper look at her half-naked body while she hurriedly mashes buttons on her screen, you’re imagining that’s what she normally looks like in the mornings. 

“Well tell them I felt nauseous and had to rush to the hospital,” she says while clicking her tongue seemingly giving instructions to someone over the phone. When her eyes find yours, she grins cheekily, playing off the situation as nothing but a minor inconvenience. “No one’s gonna find out, surely.”

Like you weren’t casually singled out by staff, escorted out of the venue and riding inside one of the artist’s cars before being told to wait inside for a good 30 minutes before you could finally get out. Under any other context, this would have been a kidnapping case.

“Just give them the usual statement,” she whines, annoyed that she’s getting calls at such an unfortunate time. “I did my set, no? That should be enough. No one’s gonna care by tomorrow,” she adds, before cutting the call and the music picks up where it left off.

“Sorry you had to hear all that.” Minnie sighs as she casually lets her skirt fall to the floor, leaving her in only underwear as she saunters back to you. “I probably should have listened when they said this wasn’t a solo concert.”

To save her from further embarrassment, you remain quiet, but your face can’t hide your amusement watching it unfold in real time. One way or another, you’ll never look at her the same way again.

“Gosh, I gotta ask Yuqi how she does it,” she huffs, setting down her phone on the living room table. “Anyway, where were we?”

You don’t know exactly how to respond, nor do you have the answer to her question. And yet you have an idea as to where this is gonna end.

—————

The song continues to play on loop in the background as Minnie guides you to the bedroom, hand in tow, skirt lost somewhere on the living room floor, before falling onto the bed belly first, spreading her legs wide and baring her holes for display. Showing her pussy to you, she is wet and leaking. 

“Fucking use me,” she huffs, looking over her shoulder, voice raspy, losing herself to her most feral desires. “I know you want this as much as I want it.”

“Fuck, Minnie, I—” Not even your half-assed attempt at reluctance stops you from unraveling with her; it’s  laughably unconvincing. Lining your erect cock against her aching core, drawing a prolonged whine from her needy lips, her passionate sigh makes you shiver in anticipation. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You wouldn’t be positioning yourself behind me if you didn’t,” she remarks, pointing a finger toward your cock. “And that thing wanted me the moment I climbed onto your lap.”

She’d plunge your cock straight into her needy cunt if she could.

Instead, she reaches for the tip, gives it a gentle flick, causing your breaths to go haywire. Sparking a fire within you, Minnie only has one purpose in mind: to set you ablaze. You see it in her inviting smile—her eyes—drawing her fingers back, daring you to finish what she started.

Plunging into her cunt without hesitation, Minnie’s cry of pain and pleasure immediately fills the room and beyond. Obscene, obnoxious, you’re making a statement to everyone that you’re gonna fuck her—hard.

Fingers clamped on the headrest, and then onto the pillow, hanging on for dear life. Her muscles tensing and her hips bucking against yours. All while you’re still trying to adjust inside her; you haven’t moved a muscle since entering her. The only thought permeating your mind is how goddamn tight she feels around you.

The idea of unloading everything into her right then and there floats around your mind, but you begin dragging your cock out, now lathered in sheen and slick, before pushing back into her invigorating heat. 

And fuck, Minnie takes every inch effortlessly. Letting you take charge, giving you free reign over her body. With every stroke, every thrust deeper, she fucking screams. Doesn’t matter that you’re leaving gaping imprints on her skin or that you’re hammering into her with reckless abandon, she only cares about the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins.

Like a man possessed, you’re throwing your all into her, pounding her balls deep like your life depends on it, like this is your one and only chance—which it may as well be. 

“So incredible—can’t believe you’re letting me do this—” you rasp, pumping into her so hard the bed begins to quake. Both your hands rest on her svelte waist, wrapped like a vice as you deliver one devastating stroke after another. You can only imagine how she looks, but you get a sense that it’s pornographic and salacious.

“It’s been so long—” she whines, her voice cracking and jumping with every word in response to your thrusts. Her own fingers are gripped to the pillows, lifting her head to keep herself loud and clear, like she isn’t making quite the commotion this late at night. “So goddamn big—oh fuck—more—”

With her ass bouncing and rippling with each thrust, you’re left in a state of trance. God, she looks so good with your cock impaled in her pussy, with cum leaking and dripping from her holes. Accompanied by the filthy sounds of flesh slapping flesh, there’s no better sight for your dizzy, tired eyes. It only serves to spur you on, to keep you moving—as if you need any more motivation.

Giving her no respite, maintaining quite the chokehold you have on her, you lean forward against her ear, and your erratic breaths—your little vibrations—sends her into upper heaven. You haven’t uttered a single word, yet your looming presence drives her crazy.

“Pull on it, baby. Please—” Minnie cries, pertaining to her hair, barely held together by a loosened tie and prayers.

As much as you want to say anything back, the vice grip she has on you is just as strong, if not stronger. So intoxicatingly tight, gathering your thoughts into something coherent proves to be an immense struggle. It gets to a point where you don’t know who’s truly in control here.

And seeing as you’re doing exactly that—pulling on her hair as you kiss the helix of her ear, unable to keep up with her tempo—you sense the end is coming. And fast.

Still, there’s no relenting. She feels too good to slow down for even a moment, fearing that if you do, this unreal bliss is lost forever. So you hold on, redirecting all your focus on everything else about her body: exploring her back, lifting her on her fours, twisting her body in your hands—anything to keep your mind off the idea that you’re falling apart. 

Your unrelenting pace supersedes every effort you’re making. It’s a relief that Minnie is fucked beyond coherence right now, losing herself in her own ecstasy. Nevertheless, you’re mentally counting down the little time you have left.

“Almost, Minnie—” you coo into her neck, rolling her on her side, lifting her helpless figure, squeezing on her breast. Fighting with the dying remains of your resolve to keep the fire alive before it fans out, Minnie looks absolutely drained, her body pushed far beyond its limit. “I’m so close—”

“Inside—” she barely manages to whine, palming your back, pulling you into a warm embrace, unwilling to accept any other outcome. Eyes completely shut, just letting pleasure freely flow in and out of her veins, rolling her hips up as you thrust into her, your grip on reality collapsing in real time. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—”

Her voice goes high, breaks her train of thought as you sense her crumble underneath you, her climax hitting at the apex. The heat of her walls suffocating, putting you in an inescapable chokehold, her legs wrapping around yours—the intention is clear: you’re gonna stay there, cum inside, and lay it all on her. 

It’s only right that your own orgasm follows. 

Holding her through your own end, every second an eternity in itself, as you bury yourself balls deep, letting Minnie milk you for all your worth. Shuddering as your bodies intertwine as one, bracing as every spurt of cum you give her with hits with the same level of impact as the previous burst, like fireworks exploding. Can’t make out a clear visual as your vision goes blurry, so you take solace in her arms as the pulse in your loins gradually dies.

Until the only thing you can hear is each other’s heartbeats.

Minnie’s a delicate treasure, one of one. Despite fucking her into shreds mere moments ago, you can’t go out like this: pressing your weight on her, dangerously close to passing out under the afterglow of your own orgasm.

Fortunately, Minnie sees the scene differently, smiling: “Wow.” 

She’s roaming her hands down your arms, warily glancing at the aftermath between your legs. A fresh puddle has formed on the sheets, now stained beyond repair. “That’s—a lot more than I thought,” she remarks, laughing at herself.

“That’s what you do to me,” you say, brushing her hair side, softly kissing her. As you try to pull back, Minnie sinks further, keeping your lips locked a few more precious moments longer. 

You need to take a breather; blink a few times to let everything sink in: that she’s the one who made the advance. Every single opportunity.

And as the mood slowly dies, as both of you stare into each other’s eyes, uncertain of what happens now, her phone rings loudly in the background again.

You give her this look, as if to say: ‘Seriously? In this ungodly hour?’ To which Minnie merely smirks before rolling out of bed. As if this was expected. Hell, she looks surprised that it didn’t happen mid-climax.

Limping out of the bedroom, making a strong case not to fly out tomorrow, even though she won’t have activities for the next few days. Learning from earlier, she hides herself out away from your view before she returns with her phone in hand, throwing it right in your direction, falling short of landing on your face.

“Not this time,” she remarks, wagging her finger, reading your mind. “And for the record, they completely bought it.”

You can only laugh and shrug as Minnie climbs onto your lap, falling into your arms. —————

(A/N: Kind of a quick one, apologies, not really much time to write filth when you're almost graduating. Currently stuck in thesis hell with only a few weeks left before the semester ends, so please bear with me a bit longer. A few months into 2025 and Blind Eyes Red is still one of my favorite K-pop songs released so far, who knew the lyrics were horny as fuck? That made the rest of the idea a lot simpler. Thank you for reading!)

[artist-issues]

If you haven’t seen Wish yet and you love Disney, do not go see it. I am telling you now. It is ripping out the hearts of the Disney movies you love and then waving their corpses around as if celebrating those hearts.

I’ll explain why, again: the message of Wish? Awful. Anti-Disney.

But they've been doing this for a long time. Saying one thing with their movies, and saying another with their PR and Disney Parks Soundtracks.

I'll explain.

Main Idea of Disney's Wish (and the You Are the Magic theme park song and merch): "The power to make your wishes come true is in you."

≠

Most Disney Movies' Idea on How to Have Wishes: "Do what's right, (trust a higher power) and something even more wonderful than what you wished will happen."

Don't try to argue with me about this. You have to look underneath the slogans and the sweater designs and the song titles to what the stories actually support to acknowledge this.

Because you can’t say “do what’s right” has power unless you answer the question “who gets to decide ‘what’s right?’” (Which, coincidentally, is a question Wish brings up and then doesn’t answer.)

Audiences of Disney used to accept that wishing on a star was much like prayer; there’s something you long for, and it’s out of your hands, but you wish for it and you do what you know is right in the meantime. And you’re not crushed, you’re not downhearted, because somewhere in your mind you trust that the combo of those two things—wishing on a higher power and diligence to do what’s good—will be what makes your wish come true.

Trust in a higher power—COMBINED WITH:

—diligence to do what’s good.

The Blue Fairy (higher power) gave Geppetto his wish specifically because he had demonstrated commitment to do good, whether he got what he wanted or not. The Fairy Godmother (higher power) gave Cinderella her wish specifically because she kept on being kind and good to low creatures like mice and wicked stepsisters, whether she got what she wanted or not.

Do you know why that combo (higher power + diligence to do good) is impactful? Timeless? Important?

Because it’s selfless. You want something, but you’re not going to sacrifice doing the right thing to get it. You’re not going to focus so hard on making what you want a reality, on your own, that you miss out on things that could be more important than what you want. And, you’re not so self-focused as to believe that if you don’t do it, it won’t get done.

Jeez, that’s the whole point of The Princess and the Frog!

Tiana wishes to have her own restaurant, and she believes that only her own hard work will grant that wish. She misunderstands her dad’s advice before he dies. She isn’t willing to trust a higher power combined with her own diligence to do good—she only trusts her own ability.

It’s not until she realizes that Ray, the character of faith, was right all along that she learns—what she wished for was too self-focused. It wasn’t complete without love. Something bigger than herself. And getting that was never going to happen just based on her own hard work.

But you know what? It was never going to happen just by a “higher-power” flavored shortcut, either. Because Facilier offers her her wish if she’ll just trust him, no hard work needed. But what does she say?

Trust in a higher power + diligence to do what’s right = selflessness, and getting more than you could have ever wished for. And if your wish is selfish, doing those two things will change your wish into something selfless.

More examples? Get ‘em while they’re hot, in case Wish made you forget, just like the current #NotMyDisney executives have forgotten, what real Disney wishes are for.

Belle wishes to have adventures in the great wide somewhere--but when she's imprisoned and that chance is taken from her it's not reversed because she worked hard to make her wish come true. It's granted because she gave up her wish for her father: she just did the right thing, regardless of her wish. And in the end, she does get what she wished for, which is adventure in an enchanted castle...and much more, because she gets true love, a throne, and a castle full of friends.

How about the One Who Started It All? The one Wish is failing to pay genuine tribute to?

Snow White wishes for someone to love her, and he does--but when they're separated, she does not exercise power to make The Prince come back to her. Instead, she loves who she can where she’s at—the Dwarfs. In the meantime, she has faith that he will keep his promise, and that pure trust in a higher power outside of her control is a big contributing factor to why the Dwarfs come to love her, and learn from her...and in the end, even more than she could've wished happens. He does take her to his castle, but she also has seven new friends who also love her, and the Queen is dead. And she didn’t need to use “the power in her” to work harder and get it done. She just needed to not focus so much on herself at all.

How about a male main character? One who’s wish starts out selfish, but after learning to wish on a higher power and be diligent to do the right thing, gets more than he could wish for?

Aladdin wishes to be somebody different (somebody he believes Jasmine could love, somebody who lives in a palace and is respected and “never has any troubles at all.”)—but doing everything in his own power for that wish proves that it was selfish all along; so he switches to doing the right thing, regardless of if his wish comes true, and he gets even more than he could’ve wished. He gets real love with Jasmine, he gets his friend Genie, and he gets to be free from feeling “trapped” because he doesn’t have to hide who he is anymore.

Or Simba?

Simba wishes to get to do whatever he wants as King—but when Mufasa dies and he’s convinced it’s his fault, it isn’t for that wish that he goes back to Pride Rock to confront his past and his Uncle. It’s because he had an encounter with a higher power—his father—that helped him to realize his wish was selfish all along. He gives up the selfish wish, and he goes back to take his place as king, not so he can do whatever he wants, but so that he can take self-sacrificial responsibility that comes with ruling. And because he just does the right thing, finally, he gets more than what he wished for.

How about something more recent? Zootopia.

Judy wishes to make the world a better place by proving she can be what she wants to be and catching bad guys—but when she tries to make her wish happen on her own, in her own abilities, she fails and is forced to realize that she should’ve been looking for help by understanding “bad guys,” like Nick. It’s only after she humbled herself, admits she’s wrong, and changes her wish from “proving I can be what I want and catching bad guys” to “proving that understanding each other makes the world a better place” (much less self-focused) that her wish comes true—and so much more. She does make the world a better place, and she does get to catch bad guys, but she also gets to befriend one who was a good guy all along, and become all-around more effective at her dream job.

This is how Disney always has been. Because it’s at the heart of good storytelling, and even life (not to get too dramatic.)

The power is not in you. Because it’s not about you. Self-sacrifice, faith, and doing the next right thing regardless of if you get your heart’s fondest desire is what makes more than just your wishes come true. And there has to be belief in a higher power to make that message powerful.

But Wish?

Not only is it bad at showing instead of telling. Not only is it lazy and soulless.

But it’s characters rip the Star out of the sky and say “don’t wish on this. Wish on yourself, to get what you wish for. You don’t need a higher power. You don’t even need to sacrifice to do what’s good—whatever you do is good, because you are the one doing it.”

That is wrong. That is not true, and it is not powerful. There’s no sacrifice in focusing on or placing your trust totally in yourself, and it undoes every good thing Disney has done up until now.

And it undoes it on the 100th anniversary, and it flaunts Easter eggs of the very things it’s undoing.

[kyseya]

Once upon a time

‘Prince’ Yandere x reader

Imagine a reader in modern day society. She lives in a normal little town, went to your average school, lives in a normal house and has your everyday friendly neighbours. Like I said, her life is nothing out of the ordinary.

She feels lucky to have so many kind people in her life. Everyone knows everyone and isn’t afraid of lending a helping hand whenever someone is in trouble. The town is on the smaller side but very cozy. They have their own traditions like the annual Christmas market or the summer fundraiser. Nice stuff like that.

Everything is simply perfect! Or…well it would be if not for one tiny detail.

Unfortunately there’s one guy who just can’t seem to take a hint. Reader feels kinda mean thinking of him as a stain on the idyllic life she’s built. She doesn’t understand why he can’t take a ‘no’ for an answer. Everyday this hunk of a man walks right into her workplace like he owns the place and demands reader’s attention. With the way he’s acting you would think he’s dying and reader’s attention is the one and only cure.

It’s not like he’s ugly or anything, but a guy who doesn’t listen is just a 🚩

That’s not even the worst part. Another big issue is his…delusions.

Like, one time when reader was walking home she decided to stop by the market square since she needed some groceries. And guess who was in the middle of the square, somehow managed to climb onto the water fountain and proudly shouting at the top of his lungs? Part of reader’s soul disintegrated that day. What in the world was he doing!? He didn’t seem to be embarrassed either. No, with his nose pointed upwards he said he was going to reveal a big secret about the whole town. Silence filled he air, everyone was curious about what he was about to say.

What was this secret? Had someone committed a grave crime and was about to be exposed? Thoughts like that circled in everyone’s mind. Their imagination came to life and dreamt up various scenarios to what the deal was. People anticipated something foul, raw and sinful only to be met with grave disappointment.

You see, the man had suddenly declared himself as royalty in front of an entire audience. He claimed that the whole town was under a spell and had forgotten about their origins; being fairytale characters. And right now, only he was able to remember the truth. Alright, what the hell? That was ridiculous. What made it worse was the fact that he appointed himself as the towns prince and leader. Yikes. He said most- if not all- of the citizens where peasants and therefore his subjects. That’s why the had to listen to him from now on.

Reader wanted to peel off her skin and scream in that moment. The secondhand embarrassment was too much.

Bringing down shame upon yourself and your ancestors was one thing, but did he have to drag reader into it?? He claimed she was also royalty and should be treated with outmost respect. Why? Because he’s her husband! Of course his spouse need the 5-star treatment as well.

After the painful incident he’s always stopped by her workplace to talk her ear off. No matter what she said or did(or how much others complained) he never left. At least not permanently. In rare instances he did go with a downcast expression but he’d always be back full force the next day.

The man tells reader about the wonderful life they were going to have. If only the curse wouldn’t have been placed and they’d all been transported to the world they currently live in. It pains him so to know she’s forgotten all about him and the great love they shared. But it’ll be alright. After all, they found each other again and he refuses to let go.

Reader only half listens(he will throw a tantrum if he realises she’s not paying attention to him) as he drones on about how they first met in the forest. Of course he found her by hearing a wonderful song travel through the woods, he followed it all the way to her. They danced together and met every sundown from then on. It was so romantic. It’s impossible not to roll your eyes at the cliche imagery, it’s just so corny.

Yandere ‘prince’ also demands reader to refer to him by his royal, ‘real’ name. It’s not his real one, it’s something else. Everyone knows that- except him, apparently, since he refuses to respond to it. If you do use it, he’ll ignore you and pretend you didn’t speak at all. It’s very tiring, more so since he tries to enforce this delusion onto reader. He also won’t use her actual name and instead settles for this medieval one. Apart from that, he calls her ‘love,’ ‘darling’, ‘my heart’ and other cutesy nicknames that are far from appreciated.

It doesn’t matter what reader says, he won’t stop.

He insists he wants to be her saviour again. Sadly for him there is nothing to protect you from except the occasional spider that makes its way inside your house.

‘Well, it’s better than nothing.’ He would say before smacking and tossing it out.

He is willing to do anything for his lover. And that really does means anything. Nothing is off the table. It wasn’t before and it definitively isn’t now simply because of some lame curse. It can’t keep him form his soulmate.

He was your prince before, he’ll show you that he still is.

———————————

[This is kinda based of Once Upon A Time, though it’s been ages since I watched it. ]

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Road to Fame

♛ “If God gives you something you can do, why in God's name wouldn't you do it?” ―Stephen King

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

♕ Pile One (8oP, 3oW rev., Temperance, The Hermit)

Your road to fame would be quite unorthodox and since you’re paving an original path, it would take time, patience, and dedication. This is not an overnight sensation type of thing. Think Sheraseven- the Sprinkle Sprinkle Lady ✨. She had been consistently making content (unique, neo “feminist” videos way before it picked up in media) for well over a decade. She even had a spiritual side to her, she talked about esoteric themes in pop culture and made guides on how to manifest and attract abundance. 

This is my spiritual pile, you would get famous for offering psychic insight (using clairaudience capabilities in particular) or putting your own creative spin on things using your spiritual attunement. Like Sheraseven for example, she combined her interest in esoteric practices with her love for pop culture and social commentary. 

Inherently, esoteric studies have smaller audiences so it would take significant time to build up worldwide fame (if you even want that). 

Honestly, with your skills, any fame you get is due to a higher power. You are a conduit for elevating the collective consciousness. You will be seen because your insight is meant to be heard. Society is heading towards a deep transformation and shift of power from the ultra-rich to the common man and you’re one of the ushers of this change. Your words empower people and are a primary reason for your incarnation. 

Any platform you build is going to be held to a higher standard than most in the eyes of the public and the universe. People are going to look at you for guidance and inspiration and the petty, nasty shit you see in media nowadays will not bode well if you enact it. You will be made an example of how to behave and treat others. Your bad actions will be punished more harshly than anyone else’s and your good actions will be rewarded tenfold. 

Major Jupiterian and Plutonian influence. A genius astrologer on this app tracked the most common nakshatras of K-Pop Idols, and Jupiter dominated their charts. They are held to an incredibly high standard and are trained to be model citizens. However, their fame surpasses the average celebrity and they are practically worshipped worldwide. *ahem* You.

I mean… imagine if a holier-than-thou mental health, peace, and love guru was bullying people on Twitter, nobody would listen to anything you have to say. You HAVE to pay careful attention to your media presence and image.

Howeevveerrr, your biggest personal challenge is trusting yourself and your capability. The thing with spirituality is, it lies outside of human perception, so there is no concrete evidence to prove it to others. So, you would battle with, “Am I even right? Will anyone believe me?” and it would cause a shit ton of anxiety cause you’re constantly questioning yourself. 

Be cautious not to clip your own wings. I can't stress this enough: you are meant for this! You are the real deal! If others don’t believe in you, so what? Only YOU need to believe in yourself. Offer honest help to others, and if they choose not to take your advice, that's their loss. Remember, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink—just as my grandmama would say. DO IT THE FUCK ANYWAY!

But have patience! That’s another thing, you’ll grow frustrated if your platform isn’t building as quickly as you’d like. You have to remember that the divine has a hand in this ordeal, they are going to attract the right people at the right time and it likely won’t align with your sense of urgency. Trust the process and stay committed—you’re on the right path!

P.S. Your work will be slow. Most careers require a “grind”, yours won’t. You need to prioritize introspection, drawing your attention inward and looking for answers deep within your soul. Don’t stress logic and manipulation of the algorithm, trust your inner knowing. 

(Do you have a prominent Pluto in your chart: Either in a cardinal house or conjunct a personal planet? You are a major player in the world’s rebirth.)

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Seer of the Space Between Worlds

♕ Pile Two (7oS, 9oS, Queen of Wands, The High Priestess, 5oS, 10oW, 5oW rev.)

YOU’RE SEXY AND HOES ARE MAAADDDDD.

Your road to fame is you embracing your authentic self. Something about your beauty: your looks, how you style yourself, who you’re seeing romantically, your creativity, your sensuality,

or you could lead a visually pleasing “soft girl” lifestyle. Anything that makes people look at you just swoon. 

People would be mad because they think you have it easy. You don’t really have to do much, but be beautiful because people desire you and your lifestyle. If you’re a woman, I see you leading self-confidence courses and teaching women of all ages how to raise their self-esteem by detaching from anything that drains their inner wild woman.

This reading is hyper-feminine, if you’re a man you’d get famous for your proximity to women or will have a female-dominated fanbase that sees you as their dream guy and wants to date you. 

You create a wonderfully comfy vibe; everything you do looks effortless, even if it takes a ton of hard work behind the scenes. You sell a fantasy, showcasing the polished version of a lifestyle while hiding the nitty-gritty realities. Take that Ballerina Farms lady, for example. She’s running a farm, raising 50 kids, and cooking from scratch daily, all while looking FABULOUS. I bet she goes to bed exhausted! Yet to the public, everything appears romantic and effortlessly beautiful, making it seem far easier than it actually is. Now everyone is dreaming of escaping to a self-sustaining farm and embracing that charming cottage-core lifestyle.

However, underneath all the glitz and glamour, there is something dark in your mental space. You attract a lot of envy. People desire your lifestyle to the extent that they’ll get buddy-buddy with you just to be near what you have, hoping it will rub off on them. You’ll have to learn to navigate deceitful energies and “friends” who are secretly competing with you.

People will like the idea of getting you out of your “princess” character. They want you to look like the bad guy- someone who is actually a mean bitch underneath your cool, calm, and collected persona. 

This aspect of fame, in the broader context of your life, will teach you discernment and help you trust your intuitive judgment of others. However, on this journey, you may find yourself grappling with intense paranoia and trust issues. Having been burned by people in the past, you'll become hyper-vigilant, determined to avoid the same pain again. Yet, through this struggle, you'll also discover the importance of vulnerability and the value of genuine connections, allowing you to grow stronger and more resilient in the face of adversity.

You will meet the best people in your life and your greatest adversaries at this time. 

But don’t sweat it, they hate you because they don’t have shit on you.

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

She Weaves Timeless Romanticism Into The Mundane

♕ Pile Three (Page of Pentacles, The World, 10oW, King of Pentacles, Powerful, Saturn, Gemini Medical, Seduction)

You have the power to unite the world baby. Your key to fame is sharing your perspective on life. 

You possess a deep understanding of a universal truth that many remain blind to, and it's crucial to share your ideas. If this resonates with you, you'll likely feel a weight of knowledge pressing down on you, creating a longing to communicate and connect with others. This insight isn't just a personal burden; it’s your ticket to stardom. By expressing this truth, you have the potential to inspire others, spark meaningful conversations, and elevate both yourself and those around you. 

You have the gift of the gab, can charm the birds from the trees, a mouth like a magpie, can sell ketchup to a lady in white gloves, and every other saying under the sun that says your words are seductive. 

I don’t think you realize this but you have a knack for attracting an audience. You may feel insecure and think people stare at you for no reason or listen too intently to everything you say, but it's because you radiate an aura of importance. 

Significant placements: Saturn in a cardinal house or major conjunction, Libra, Cap, Aqua, Pushya, Anuradha, and Uttara Bhadrapada.

Your mind is critical, astute, and hyper-aware; this aspect of yourself bleeds into your physical existence. Your body language communicates this fact and people pick up on it, giving the impression that you’re intelligent and have something important to say.

You know those internet personalities who, for whatever reason, people hang onto their every word? When something happens in the media, people rush to their comments and ask about their thoughts and opinions. Or, all their content is their knowledge about niche things or their viewpoint on divisive arguments in society. That’s your shit right there. 

You’re likely not too interested in mainstream media and like to consume content that expands your knowledge and mentally stimulates you. 

There is a deep sense of doubt here, you’re probably reading this and going, “But I’m not smart🫤.”

LIEESSSSS!

You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit, you’re a genius! You might be surprised at how interested people are in your thoughts if you find the courage to share them. Sure, you’ll encounter some naysayers along the way, but who cares? It’s the internet, and let’s be honest—people can be insufferable. You could say the sky is blue and there’d be some smartass like, “Well actually, with all the methane in the atmosphere the sky turns pink with a dash of purple at approximately 6:44 pm in the western hemisphere  ☝🏾🤓.”

You can’t let these losers silence you. 😭😭

Focus on those who resonate with your message and don’t let the negativity hold you back. Your voice matters, and the world needs to hear what you have to say!

Just to reiterate, it IS your ticket to getting the spotlight you deserve.

P.S. If you have Saturn dominance, especially in relation to Mercury, you likely experienced some delays and struggles in your education and learning development (SAMESIES). You might have a speech impediment or struggle to find the right words. 1) Things will get better with time and you will likely surpass everyone else in terms of communication because you will put a lot of focus into refining your speech. 2) People will find your speech endearing because it shows that you’re human, imperfect, and relatable. It makes it easier for people to connect to you and resonate with your message. 

P.S.S. For some of you, this message is tied to your academics and whatever you’re learning professionally. 

P.S.S.S It's hours later, and I'm letting my intuition shape your mood board. The imagery is… quiet yet formidable, like towering mountains or the very core of the Earth. You have an intellect that doesn’t need to scream that it’s sharp. You embody the dignified essence of Saturn, exuding a carefully crafted composure. People are drawn to unravel your layers, eager to glimpse the depth within. It may sound strange, but over time, people come to see you as profoundly wise.

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Gentle Fortitude in Peace of Mind

♕ Pile Four (Page of Swords, 2oP, 4oW, 4oS rev., 9oS rev., High Priestess)

Haha, you think you won’t find love but you’re about to receive one of the greatest love stories of a lifetime 🫵🏾!

Your road to fame is a blossoming partnership filled with love, mutual respect, and endless banter. 

It could be a familial, platonic, romantic, or a friends-to-lovers situation, doesn’t matter. Your bond with another is what will catch the media’s attention. In today’s age, this could be in the form of a podcast or live streaming where people get to observe you and your person’s natural flow of conversation.

Do you know Aaron and Jo? They’re commentators who’ve been friends since childhood, and their unique rapport is magnetizing. It’s effortless and incredibly comfortable to witness, making their interactions feel genuine and warm. They have middle-school boy humor but they’ve refined it over the years, so it appeals to all audiences and is genuinely hilarious. You and your person will have something one-of-a-kind like this. 

This is sort of separate from the reading, beyond the potential fame, this person is coming into your life (or is already in it) as a gift from the Universe. The karmic scales are balancing in your favor. You’ve spent years emotionally pouring into people with very little in return and as a form of justice, you are going to meet people who “Match your Freak”, so to speak. 

Placements: Tropical Aries, Sidereal Pisces, Uttara Bhadrapada Nakshatra. Any Cancer or 4th house placements. 

You’ll know this is coming when you’re going through a season of release. Whatever has been draining you emotionally and torturing you psychically will just… poof!

One day you’re going to, “fuck that shit, it’s not the deep- WE BALL!” your way to success 😭😭.

This is my bubbliest pile. Not that you are a bubbly person, in fact, life’s trials and tribulations took away your ability to crack a smile for a while. But this new phase you’re entering is nothing but giggles and a great fucking time. You deserve it!

This person is going to nurture you in ways that even your inner child can’t fully comprehend. The success you find online won’t even feel like the ultimate prize; it’s the deep connection you build that truly matters. This bond will uplift you and provide the support you didn’t know you needed, making the journey all the more rewarding.

P.S. You might have Libra or 7th house significance in your chart because a core aspect of your life revolves around connection and partnership—more so than most. It's time to celebrate! Toss your cap in the sky, you’ve completed a huge karmic cycle and your blessings are coming! 

Okay bye bye! MUAH! 💋💋

The Joyous Hum of Divine Union

[ikyunho]

✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡° ✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡°✩

[17:30] Myung Jaehyun ~ Boynextdoor

Pairing: idol mc!jaehyun x idol mc!reader

Warnings: lovesick Jaehyun, Idk I have no plot just a dream, this mildly devastating

A/N: I have never watched an ep of MCountdown without being overwhelmed and turning it off, Sohee I miss you.

✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡° ✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡°✩

Anxiously, you flipped through your script and analyzed every highlight, note, and comment. You’d never done anything remotely similar to MC-ing for one of the most popular music shows in the country, so why did you agree to be their guest host? Simple. Myung Jaehyun.

He’d been nagging and begging you to accept the offer for weeks. When MCountdown announced they were in need of a temporary MC, the first person Jaehyun thought of to fill the position was you. What could go wrong? It was good promotion for you, and you could finally be with each other after being apart for so long.

There was one issue that both of you seemed to have forgotten. Your relationship wasn’t public, nor did your companies want them to be public any time soon.

✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡°✧

After nervously fixing your hair and committing your lines to memory, you and Jaehyun walked into the area where you would be spending the next several hours. His hand reached for yours to calm your racing nerves instinctively, only for staff to cough in warning from behind the cameras. The two of you gave each other a look before stepping apart to avoid a rise of suspicions and dating rumors per company request.

Seeing how quickly Jaehyun deflated into himself had a sad sigh falling from your lips. But as quickly as it happened, he put on a smile and acted like he wasn't disappointed. The usual puppy love filled look in his eye replaced with displeasure and frustration.

He had it all planned out. He was supposed to be with you, hold your hand, and finally spend more time together than the short sleepovers that resulted in someone being gone when the other woke up. You weren't supposed to steal glances at each other every time the camera cut hoping that no one caught you.

You both walk backstage for a moment under the guise of needing water. You're concerned and Jaehyun is visibly upset, effecting the usual fun and happy environment of the show.

"Jae... What is up with you?" You question, hands reaching for his worry covering your face.

"This wasn't how I planned for things to go. They don't care when Sohee and I hug or even get close to each other. I wanted to be able to actually be near you, not on opposite sides of the room," He answered, looking at the ground with a devastatingly cute pout on his face.

You let go of his hands to cup his cheeks, lifting his gaze from the floor to you. "I know this isn't what you wanted it to be like, but we can make it work. Now, let's go back out there, stand next to each other, and maybe I'll let you hold my hand when we aren't live," you responded with a slight giggle before dragging him out of the room, both of you smiling more than when the show started.

✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡°✧

The audience of fans quickly noticed the change in demeanor. Jaehyun was practically glued to your side, grinning and giggling like he was back in kindergarten. He didn't care about spreading rumors anymore. They weren't even rumors if they were true, right? All he cared about was you and the smile on your face that he loved so much.

The rest of the show was significantly better. Morale was high and both of you were beaming with joy. Your lovesick puppy was back, and you wouldn't have it any other way. To say the fans were obsessed was an understatement. Tweets with screenshots and clips of you together were going viral, the viewer counts skyrocketed, and it did wonders for publicity. All because Jaehyun loved you and was able to show it how he so desperately wished to do.

But if he asked you to come back as a host, everyone, staff and all would say no. He was happier than ever and views were up, but productivity was down seeing as Jaehyun was too busy staring at you with hearts in his eyes when the cameras weren't rolling.

It was safe to say that your first (and last) time hosting a music show with Myung Jaehyun was one for the books.

✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡° ✧˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆✴︎˚｡⋆⭑⋆｡°✩

[centrally-unplanned]

I have begun watching Andor; my first Star Wars media after the the Rise of Skywalker burned all possible hope and legacy the series could ever have. It is pretty good! Finished Season 1, am a few episodes into Season 2 so far - though as usual my thoughts lean towards the complain-y side, don't let that bias you:

Andor at its best is portraying the Empire "in transition", moving towards greater levels of centralization and authoritarianism but no longer at the breakneck pace of coups and gigantic wars. Having say private military contractors filling enforcement gaps, and then being annexed by central authority as the knee-jerk response to the inevitable failures that accrue, causing the center to be overburdened? Very kino stuff. We need more stories about bureaucracy and Andor, while not committed to the bit, at least flirts heavily with it.

What makes the above work is the hard commitment to "realism", and that only works because the show is harshly pretending so much of Star Wars doesn't exist. All these grubby human stormtroopers and officers, making mistakes, defecting, and so on? Why aren't you using, oh I don't know, the clone army you made in the prequels bred for loyalty? I know you have an answer for that in one of your infinite spinoffs, but the answer is stupid and half-baked. Even if you couldn't make everyone a clone, you would still be using the clones, and robot soldiers, and force-sensitive ninja warriors, and all that stuff. Same with a dozen other things - the show will hand-waive away why they are using slave prison labor over droids with "droids are more expensive" but bro - I have seen Star Wars droids, they cost as much as a trash bin because they are sometimes literally trash bins. This is the right decision, to be clear! Just very funny.

Honestly Andor really throws into relief the, uh, arc of both Star Wars & sci fi more broadly? The original films are very "classic adventure", for all audiences - the sci fi elements are aesthetic, the magic elements are loose and mystical, the plot is a Hero's Journey in war. As the franchise grew in the 1980's, it made "1980's content" for nerd audiences at the time - pulpy, action-oriented, and with a lot of "technobabble plots". Oh the Emperor has a clone machine! Oh now we have the Sun Crusher, it crushes suns! This alien species can drink luck somehow! Stuff like this is the bread-and-butter of the EU, and a lot of the ~vibe~ if not focus of the prequels. Time marched on, Star Wars broadened while sci-fi declined, and these stories lost their appeal alongside the audience for Star Wars fully morphing into an "every generation" affair with many older adults wanting content. Andor is of course the answer to that demand, a fully gritty political drama with an entirely-human main cast. But it sits in the same universe as Jar Jar Binks and you can't really escape that.

While the median "expression of political hatred for the Empire" is via a longing for democracy & political freedom, it is very cute to me how "70's liberalism" a lot of the more concrete complaints are coded? There are a lot of vibes of central authority is bad, localism should rule the day, let each unitary planet make its own decisions. The successor government is gonna have a TON of NIMBYs opposed export-focused mining projects on its hands, I do not envy them that. #TeamStripMineGhorman

Why does the galaxy have all these human indigenous tribes all over the place? Did humans evolve independently on all these planets? Presumably these humans are settlers, which means they would have the kind of culture an expansionist, space-faring, scientific civilization would have, right? Awful lot of people crash-landed and lost all their digital books it seems.

Okay, an actual, real complaint now: what is the empire currently fighting? I know that fascist regimes "invent" security crises to justify their authoritarian control, but, well, they kind of don't actually do that whole-cloth, 1984 isn't a history book. It typically is tied to real events, even ones of their own making. If Franco's Spain wanted to allocate 25% of GDP to massive military projects, it was gonna need a reason. And all the senators, who are not imperial propaganda pieces, seem to accept the need for expansive military preparations. So what enemy are these for, exactly? You might say "the rebellion, duh", but that actually doesn't track - for one at the beginning of the show they are explicitly small fry, that is the entire plot. And they are also at this point entirely insurgency-based - not something building more Imperial Star Destroyers really helps you address. The Empire-as-portrayed acts like it has peer adversaries somewhere? It seems like it is conquering planets (and in the lore I think it is). But we never see any of this, it is never actually mentioned. Add Andor to the list of hundreds of stories that finds itself in need of a scene of a dozen people sitting around a big map displaying current strategic threats, priorities, and status-quo force deployments, but is too much of a coward to do it.

*Extremely* cute that apparently the galactic financial system still heavily relies on physical currency. This admittedly isn't a crazy anachronism, I can see how communicating digital exchanges across space might be difficult (ofc Star Wars is completely inconsistent along these metrics but w/e). Someone has gotta tell the Emperor about the blockchain...

Cassian is so much hotter with a beard, he needs to own that and stop all this shaving nonsense he does on and off, get your priorities straight. Bix meanwhile is hotter with ___; it is literally impossible for Bix not to be hot in any context and boy does this show try to disprove that! Fails every time.

[the--queen-of--hell]

"Proshippers who romanticize [X ship] are trying to justify why they wanna fuck little kids"

Ah, shit. Here we go again. It's actually impossible for you antishippers to think what you want to say before saying it, right?

Like I said a lot of times... PROSHIPPERS DOESN'T FUCKING MEAN PEDOPHILES. It's a false equivalence so FUCKING STOP using that UNREASONABLE argument.

If you are so ignorant that you believe writing about two characters having sex means YOU want to fuck a minor then I don't know why the fuck you're on the Internet. If you don't know the difference between reality and fiction -and between liking something just in fiction and ACTUALLY doing that irl- then YOU have the problem, not us.

How writing about some ships turns you into a pedophile/makes you wanna fuck kids? Does romanticize violence make you want to hit everyone around you? No. Does romanticize killing make you want to kill everyone around you? No. Does romanticize cannibalism make you want to be a cannibal? No. Does romanticize some ships make you attracted to kids? FUCKING NO.

Not every fanfic/fanart is about sex you know? There are probably asexual proshippers, or proshippers who go like "sex, ugh" everytime they read a fic of their favorite ship with sex. Or you didn't realize that in AO3 there are different ship categories? Because there is General, Teen And Up Audiences, Mature AND Explicit. Not all fics are Explicit or with sex, fucking realize that already.

"B-but the Slenderman case proved that fiction affects reality" "B-but I saw IT and I got scared of clowns so fiction affects reality". Okey, so if someone starts killing real people after playing GTA, then GTA should also be banned, right? Because one person was affected by that game and that fictional game affected reality (by your logic, not mine).

Now let me make it clear: Fiction can affect reality ONLY if you let it. A NORMAL, MORALLY AND MENTALLY HEALTHY person will NEVER commit a crime irl if they know that crime is bad irl, NO MATTER if the writer romanticizes it or not in fiction.

"B-but writing about [X] makes you normalize [X]" "B-but reading about [X] makes you tolerate [X] or not be upset by [X] irl"

I say it again: You-are-responsible-of-that. Yes, you read it well. YOU are the one who decides if you want to normalize those things irl, if you don't want to be affected by it. Because no matter how many Tomarry fics I read (or fics about other problematic ships), everytime I watch a case of a child raped by an adult in the TV news, I got disgusted and I want those fucking REAL pedophiles to burn in hell. So yeah, writing or reading about [X] in FICTION doesn't make you normalize it in REAL LIFE-

-UNLESS YOU want to normalize it.

(And if some antis are seeing this post, do not fucking call me pedophile or groomer because:

First: I'm not. I will NEVER be attracted to a MINOR. I find REAL pedophiles disgusting and I want them to burn in hell.

Second: I don't think you even know the meaning of "pedophile" and "groomer" so shut the fuck up)

[artsninspo]

🎇 NANA'S KNOW BEST | NYE - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this prompt

summary: What happens when your crush that you've been in a silent stand off with turn's up to your NYE party at the behest of his meddling grandmother who just so happens to be bff's with yours? buckle this one’s🌶️🌪️🧸 with a smidge of ❤️‍🩹.

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: 4.4K

Swallowing a distasteful groan you force a compliant smile to carry on the ruse everyone else is so committed to participating in. Your grandmother's hand squeezes yours and you send the gesture right back against her bony fingers. A muffled scoff escapes the mischievous senior's mouth only for her to correct the gesture by pretending she's both sick and elderly.

“Mom, are you okay?” your father asks completely oblivious to what is transpiring under his nose.

“Fine sweetie” she smiles at her son before turning to you. “Nana knows best” she says letting you go. You send her a look that promises to get back and leave the family room for the kitchen. You want nothing to do with the man in front of you.

“Try these” Sammy your chef smiles handing you sparkling pastries.

“I’ve lost my appetite” you mutter

“Oh” she gapes, wiping her hands onto her apron. “You must be coming down with something” she says fluttering around the kitchen to get a finger of ginger and start peeling.

You sigh. “I’m fine Sammy”

“You not wanting something sweet is anything but” she says with a hand on her hip. Her gaze is accusatory and you sigh not wanting the audience of her hired help for this occasion. Sensing your hesitation, Sammy walks you through the chef's quarters and to one of the house's side entrances.

“Rio’s here” you mutter. The recognition in her eyes is evidence of the history that you and Rio share. 

“Well, you look great” Sammy says, looking you over with more critical eyes.

“I know I do” you snap, offended by the tone in her voice. The coddling, the sentimentality. That you were ever so weak in the knees for a man with so little regard for me and you feelings. 

“I’m surprised he came,” she says.

“I’m not. Daddy has him under his thumb and there’s nothing he won’t do for a chance to prove his worth to the boss.” you swallow resentfully. Your fingers twitching for a release, stepping back Sammy finds the padlocked mailbox, unlocking it with a string of keys and passes you a joint.

“Thanks” you mutter taking a long drag.

Rio had been your first crush, the age gap between you was significant enough in those days of childhood that the distance existed. You looked up to him. Every time you went back to the neighbourhood your father hailed from when he was there. Your father admired him too and your grandmother knew his. Nana knew early why you wanted to tag along to her book clubs and bible studies at Rio’s place but she never said anything to your parents. Rio had always handled you with care and the two old biddies watched wishing one day their friendship would be turned into a familial bond by their two grandchildren.

It happened at your highschool graduation party. You were on your way to make your entrance when the sound of sloppy kisses caught your attention. Living for a little gossip you slipped out of your slingback heels to tiptoe quietly across the marble floors. Just as a kiss broke between Rio and your hoe ass auntie Clementine. It was the next scene that made you sick enough to spew all over your newly acquired white dress. Clem sunk down to her knees taking his heavy manhood into her hands and kissing the tip of him while looking up at him.

Running down the halls with your shoes in hand your brunch came up violently. Clem was privy to your crush on Rio and of all the days she had chosen one significant to you to twist the knife of betrayal. Hot tears streamed as your heart turned to stone. Your crush was the worst kept family secret. How could he? After refusing to join the party your mother was forced to make the cancellation announcement. That day changed family dynamics forever. Gone were the days where you were content enough playing princess, everyone’s favourite girl. Nice girls finished last and there was no room for that anymore.

Your father insisted on another graduation party and there your revenge was served cold. Instead of rushing to greet Rio you maintained distance, sending warm smiles and pleasantries to everyone but him. Spite was a new emotion but you had always been a fast learner. His gifts that day, a princess cut diamond tennis bracelet and necklace set were proof he’d been listening to your advice. It was why you stayed away from Princess cut diamonds to this very day. A dry thanks and a cavalier comment about the subpar count of carats was the first time Rio hadn't received a gushing compliment in your presence. He watches as you casually place the gift aside instead of rushing to have him put it on you. He’d expected to place the accents on your wrist and around your neck but the request never came as you continued opening presents without acknowledging him.

The execution of your spiteful revenge plot had been surgical. Daddy had a new head of security and everytime you returned home from school you showed Rio he’d been replaced until you managed to push him out altogether. Holding back invitations from social gatherings your mother was putting on and skipping out on the ones he was invited to. Clem had flown too close to the sun in search of the kind of man your mother acquired in your father and had her wings burned. Her Karma was her own, a sleazeball with a wandering eye. She’d come to your mom crying on more than one occasion - the stress was sucking her beauty out of her. 

The memories overwhelm you and you cough having taken too long a drag. Sammy hits your back, plucking the nearly finished joint from your hands. There were a few people you had fessed up to. Sammy and Nana among them. Sammy had your back not liking Clementine's antics but Nana didn't share her point of view. Nana’s advice was simple. It was her view that you should never be ashamed of things happening in the corridors and peripheries. Adults have sex and often that’s all it is. She was also of the opinion that the last thing any smart woman wanted was a man that had never sown wild oats. It was better they get it out of their system before settling down than while in a serious committed relationship. The take felt treasonous but the older you got the more true it felt. Since then Rio had climbed the ranks quite considerably which was no doubt why he was in attendance today. It wasn't a dinner among friends and family for the new year. It was a dinner among equals. It was why your father had spared no expense in the beauty prep and maintenance of his girls. Part of being respectable was the well being of your family. It was why Rio had brought his grandmother. Rio’s reputation was no longer the only one that preceded him. Your profile had grown too.

To the world you were a bitch and a spoiled brat, who’s social calendar was stacked. You were hard to get to know and even harder to keep. Easily bored and sometimes temperamental; still people wanted to make your acquaintance. To those who knew you best, the hard shell you put on was just that- an act. Looking back at Sammy you take a breath of the fresh air. Looking down at your croc leather boots you try to muster the ferocity of the large reptile as you head back in.

“Thanks for the smoke” you smile and Sammy nods.

“Anytime babygirl, you tell me what plate I need to sprinkle a little something into if anyone plays with you alright?” Sammy jokes.

“Always be nice to the chef” you wink, heading back inside and through the kitchen and back to mix and mingle. You greet everyone you know with the same pleasant but detached air. You take none of their pleasantries or compliments to heart. You allow hands from some of your father’s younger and more legitimate associates to linger as a test of their intentions and integrity. You smile at their jokes and play your role well. You feel Rio’s eyes on you as you move through the crowd. It’s been at least five years since you’ve seen him in the flesh. You can't allow your eyes to linger - even now. One of two things happen; one you get a vision of Clem taking his manhood or a vision of the good times. The oscillation between both states is unpleasant. 

“Y/n” his voice says, cutting through the crowd with the same ability to give you goosebumps. You turn to face him, taking in his dark features with the same detached smile he knows is a construct after eighteen years of impossibly genuine ones. His features tighten with contempt.

“Christopher” you smile going in for a hug. When you pull away enveloped in a mix of his cologne and yours his expression reeks of disapproval.

“Rio” he corrects using the nickname you used in childhood. The one he was endearingly called by all who knew him.

“You haven't grown out of that yet?” you are unable to be nice. His glare is pointed. “So serious now” you comment looking into your champagne flute amused with his current state towards you.

“I’m surprised you remember me at all, I haven't heard from you in years” he comments.

“Why would you, we don't have any business” you shrug turning to him. Your expression is earnestly puzzled. His jaw clenches and then clicks.

“Y/N” a voice calls and you turn in the direction of the voice to find your sister in law. A hand catches your waist before you can walk off and Rio’s strict and scolding expression gives you a punishing glare. Have you lost your mind? Is the question in his expression. He’d never been one from disrespect.

“What?” you ask looking up at him. 

He swallows, smoothing out his expression to maintain appearances as his hands drop, taking yours. He walks with long strides that force you to move your feet quickly to keep pace. You raise a finger to your sister-in-law signalling you need a moment as Rio takes you into the study.

“Why are you being a bitch to me?” he snaps once the door is closed. You go to respond but his hand comes up holding his index finger in a silent warning. “Don’t bullshit me” he says after more silence. Eighteen year old you would be so proud to have Rio in a room with you behind closed doors with his undivided attention. You find yourself smirking at the thought before your eyes find his softening. 

“Why are you pretending like you care how I carry myself or what I do?” you ask. He steps back insulted by the question.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You forget how you grew up? How many times you'd call me a week, a day? Rio, can you pick me up candy, Rio, can you take me to see my friends?” he says.

“Worked out well, didn't it?Look at the rooms you're in now, you are well off - take care of granny and you're someone.” you say casually and he acts like it stings.

“You think I showed up for you to get in with your father?” he laughs but he’s far from amused with his manhood and character in question.

“Rio, I’m not so naive that I think anyone who isn't my blood in this house is genuine” you comment with bored exasperation. 

“And what have I done after knowing you your entire life to lead you to believe I don’t care?” he asks, affronted. His nerve sparks rage. Your eyes hold him for a moment in quiet contemplation before you take a breath walking back into the study and letting your hands run along the wood face of your fathers desk. 

“You stopped coming around once you started doing the accounting” you recount turning to face him.

“I didn't have time to be around all the time” he snaps. 

“Well you didn't say anything” you shrug.

“My bad” Rio says closing the distance between the two of you when you hold a hand out signalling he stops, Rio obliges standing in place.

“Did you know I had a crush on you?” you ask and he looks at you like it's a brave question. Like it's the last thing he expected to come out of your mouth.

“Everyone knew,” he says, twisting the knife he’d put there all those years ago. 

“And you were fucking my aunt!” You snap unable to recall the anger from your voice. Shock takes his expression first, then understanding before he returns to his default expression. The smug asshole smiles a bit before shaking his head like your feelings are a big joke to him. 

“Fuck you Christopher” you snap pushing past him but he pulls you back to him in a rough motion. All the humour in his eyes has evaporated into anger.

“So you’ve been treating me like this in public on purpose?” Rio clarifies testing your bravery.

“You’re not special enough for special treatment” you shrug dismissively and he smiles shaking his head before he chuckles looking over at you again. 

“What’s funny?” You ask slightly unnerved by the change in his energy. 

“Here I am treating you like a princess when you’re jealous of your aunt who got treated like a whore” he comments. He steps back, locking the door. Your heart races at the gesture. “All the guys out there are sharks, they’re all touching you because your dad’s over and your brother doesn’t have any dog in him. He’s pussy whipped. The only reason your pops isn’t free lunch is because of me. I don’t need him. I have love for him because he’s got a good heart and looked out for me when I was growing up but he’s lost it. Only reason he’s still on his pedestal is because I know how much of a daddy’s girl you are”  Rio says something in the pit of your stomach makes it feel true. You’d noticed your father had been losing his edge for some years now. His kids were grown and he had more than enough to maintain.

“I don’t need your protection” pride forces out and you try to get out of the room. But Rio doesn’t move aside, a wicked grin takes set in his expression. One you remember him doling out to enemies and not friends.

“This is what I get for giving you an inch” he says to himself. 

You take a step back slightly unnerved “This is my dad’s office” you say to remind him. His intensity forces you to take another step back.

“Christ-Rio” you correct, continuing your retreat.

“You couldn’t handle me at eighteen, not at twenty one and I don’t even have faith in you now” he says, sparking your defiance. Your retreat falters as he takes a step forward. 

“I’m not the one begging for answers, your time or company. ” your tone is sharp. 

“Cause I’m grown and not afraid to show that I care about your immature ass even when you act like a brat. It’s called "unconditional love” . His tone is as steady as his expression, devoid of sentimentality.

“I love you so much I'm going to go suck one of your family members off” you snap and his eyes light. His disdain for the idea is evident. 

“Don’t talk like that” he warns.

“Mhm, that's what I'll do. Then I’ll show up at your next party with some dumb fucking gift and a smile acting like I mean something. You PIG” you snap shoving him back and getting out of the office and back to the party.

Rio takes a moment to catch his breath. Looking down he swallows trying to quell his raging libido before straightening his shirt and stepping out of the study. He didn't know who to be more upset at; himself, you or his granny. He’d only shown up because Granny had said you wanted him there. After years of being ignored he was ready to turn a new page. Both of you sit through dinner without adding a word to the light and jovial conversation. The attention you were getting from men is non-existent now but you don't mind.

“What’s going on between you and my future grandson-in-law?” Nana teases, earning a sharp glare.

“Ha, ha” you comment without humour and she smiles amused. 

“Come on Princess, when have you known Rio to put up with what you're putting him through?” she asks.

“Nana, I know you're old but in this generation we don't take shit from shitty men” you explain.

“He’s not shitty. Maria told him you wanted him to come and he came with no questions asked.” Granny says making you frown.

You roll your eyes. “Why are y’all lying?”

“I’m not getting any younger and I want my baby to have babies with my other baby” she says and you scoff.

“Remember when I promised you I'd never put you in a nursing home?” you ask.

“I do” she nods.

“We’ll I’m going to start looking tomorrow” you threaten making you old girl chuckle. When the party dies down after the countdown you go to call a car and wait in the driveway. It's possibly the worst start to the year ever. Rio comes out and gives you an annoyed look. 

“I’ll take you home” he mutters, you take him up on his offer to limit your wait. You put your address in his car's GPS and he starts on the drive. His eyes glance to yours every few minutes as you ignore him. 

“Pretending not to enjoy my company is hard work isn't it?” he says and you cut on the radio to drown him out. You have too many fond memories riding shotgun with him. He smiles at the gesture, unable to be fully upset at your bratty tendencies; it was partially an attitude of his own creation.

“Does daddy have any enemies?” you ask.

“No, not enemies - just scavengers but nothing to worry about if you have good friends” Rio mutters drawing your gaze. You nod as he takes the exit and starts up the hill to your neighbourhood. Security lets him through the gate once you've scanned your pass and Rio assesses the residential area. The G-wagon pulls into your driveway.

“Thanks for the ride” you say jumping out instead of waiting for him to get the door. He shuts off the car.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Making sure you get in” he states.

“You can do that from your car” you tell him but he's stubborn following you in.

“I’m in” you state the obvious.

“Where’s the washroom?” he asks and you sigh pointing to the bathroom.

“Leave when you're done the front door locks automatically” you tell him heading to your bedroom. You check your phone before tidying up your bedroom before taking off your boots then dress. You place the garment on a hanger and your boots in the closet where they belong. You manage to get a babytee over your bra before emerging from your closet still in your thong and nylons. The image of Rio is startling. 

“What's wrong?” you frown as his eyes take your body in. It's the way you’ve always wanted him to look at you. 

“Are you done making a fool of me?” he rasps low. All libido. 

“No” you mutter and his large hand finds the small of your waist pulling you into him. His smile is soft and lazy like he has all the time in the world. The same hand trails down the side of your hips running along the nylon mesh and then to your center. Looking at Rio in his eyes you keep still determined not to break first. He pulls the fabric away from your skin before ripping a gaping hole in the mesh. His eyes don’t leave yours as he sinks down. You don't make the mistake of taking him on his knees as an act of submission. Your body is thrumming for him before he pushes your panties to the side putting his lips to your flesh. Swallowing, your hand goes to his shoulder for support only for him to gently place your leg over it, bettering his access to your center. The sensation makes you ooze for him. Heady sights and moans emerge in no time as he eats you while still partially dressed. His more reserved pace turns feverish as your moans do. First a finger and then two his fingers find a rhythm inside of you aiding to finish what his mouth started.  Both guide you to your climax. Before you find your release he stops removing your leg ever so gently and standing with steely resolve. Your lust filled eyes lose the haze of pleasure slowly before he comes into focus. Amusement plays at his lips.

“If you walk-”

Your words are cut short by a kiss. The illicit taste of your arousal mixed with Rio’s passion is overwhelming. So is his skill, it’s like he knows every erogenous zone. Everything is torturously tantric. If you didn't know what he did you’d think his expertise was sex. He scrambles your brain with his dominance. In the bedroom there's no place for insolence. His foreplay is rough and rugged as he kisses and touches you everywhere like he wants to know all your spots to punish you for ever thinking you could leave him, get rid of him or be done with him. He doesn't undress you by pushing your shirt up instead of taking it off as he sucks your breasts.

“Rio” your first please come out hoarse as your legs open instinctively needing the release from him. 

“What?” he asks.

“I need you” you whisper nearly making him come before he could even be inside you. 

There were a hundred faceless women who’d taken loads meant for your body alone. Who he’d superimposed your face and body on, using in his mind. He’d tried to do the right thing staying away, ignoring your crush not feeding into it. He didn't want to be a fleeting moment he wanted forever. Somehow your lusty moans and shallow breath were even better than he imagined. You tasted better too, felt better, sounded better. 

“You're begging already” he rasped but the defiance you felt had long passed when he was french kissing your core.

“Fuck me” you sit up whispering the words against his lips. He kisses you first, slipping his tongue between your lips as he lays you back down as he slides in. Your pleasure filled moan is music to his ears as his manhood finds its home nestled within you. Instinct takes time to kick in as he fights against coming in mere seconds. 

“You feel so good baby” he rasps. “You're so perfect” he adds singing your praises.

The pressure is intense, maybe he was right, he is a lot of man to handle but the thrill and arousal makes it comfortable before his thrusts become pure pleasure. Your bodies learn quickly how to please each other. He fucks you into the matress after your first climax treating you like a whore. It feels better than it should. Better than all the fake intense passion you’ve had with lovers who didn't mean half as much as him over the years. 

The way he felt, made you feel was overwhelming. Position after position with the purpose of pleasure. His heavy heated gaze, his grip around your hips, wrists and neck. His passion and rawness. The kind of sexual encounter everyone should have at least once in their lives. When he slipped out finally you felt lost as you both lay there drawing in short rugged breaths. Your heart swells in post coital bliss. After relieving yourself you look at your reflection washing up. New year new me think to yourself. Rio enters, interrupting your thoughts and you exit the restroom silently. You climb out of the distressed nylons and go into your drawers for a nightgown. Your thoughts run a million miles a minute. The pendulum swings and you can't quite decide if going to bed with him was the right call or not. Your body is still humming with praise for him while your mind is more conflicted.

“Come to bed” Rio says in a demanding tone like the one he uses in bed. You pause turning to him with folded arms as he waits beneath the covers. “I won't hurt you, I know you can hold a grudge. It’s not in my best interest to piss you off” he comments and you pad back over the bed sitting beside him. Sleep takes the both of you quickly. Hours later the sun beams in and his arm is wrapped protectively around your body. 

With a smile you rest your head on his chest as you check your New Years texts. Smiling you see one from your grandmother and laugh beside the man that was the subject of too many new years wishes. Nana really does know best.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you lift your head just enough to glance at the screen—Nana.

Rio wakes sleepily before looking at the phone chuckles. “She’s got timing, don’t she?”

“She’s got more than that,” you mutter, hitting the green button. “What, Nana?”

Her voice is sly, coated in the mischief only years of experience could refine. “Just checking if you got home safe, sweetheart.”

“I did,” you say, your tone exasperated but warm. 

“Now!” she says in a hasty tone. You sit up in utter confusion, mouth falling open when Rio’s phone begins to ring. Granny flashes across the screen. You freeze caught dead by your grandmothers. A flurry of laughter sounds from both of your grandmothers on the other line. 

“I need great grands by the end of the year” Nana shouts through celebratory laughs and cheer. Your eyes dart to Rio who’s wearing an equally amused expression. 

“Should've never got them smartphones” he mutters blushing slightly and you shake your head.

“Oh hush, Nana’s know best” yours says.

“Hang up, so they can get re-started” Rio’s granny says and you hang up looking at your phone in shock. Caught by a bunch of meddling tech-savvy seniors. 

“You heard them, let's get re-started, mama” Rio winks.

: ̗̀➛ Loved the story? ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog—it all helps me so much! 💌

authour's note: this one's longer than normal, and there were lots of hellish moments. lmk what your favourite part was below. Also did you see the twist at the end with the grandma's set up? 😂 😆

too shy for the comments? my inbox is here - don't forget to include story title so i know what you mean 😉

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

[deakyjoe]

Every Breath You Take

Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader (afab but no pronouns used I don’t think)

Category: stalker romance (??), smut (!!)

Summary: It shouldn’t exhilarate you so much knowing a serial killer was stalking you. But you just can’t help yourself.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal fingering, dry humping, biting, licking, creampie, overstimulation, motorboating, pain as pleasure, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, choking, scent kink, multiple orgasms, nipple play, over the clothes handjob, under the clothes handjob, slight dubcon (only because Michael doesn’t talk but I tried to make it as clear as possible that they just want to fuck each other), stalking, mentions of injuries and blood, mentions of murder, breaking and entering, morally questionable reader, mask is on and off, lights stay off during sex, virgin Michael, a little dark I guess (??)

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: For those who love masked men (aka me). For those who want to fuck slashers (aka me). For those who love the quiet type (aka me). For those who love a tall man (aka me). For those who love a strong man (aka me). I wrote this for me basically. I don’t think there’s much of an audience for Michael Myers fics within my followers but hopefully it reaches the right side of Tumblr :)

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It was probably disgusting how much it excited you knowing he watched you every day.

He'd stand in your back yard each night, totally still, and just look through your windows for hours. And then, when he was satisfied you assumed, he'd leave. But he always came right back the next day at the same time.

When you'd first noticed him, you'd been terrified. Naturally. You knew exactly who he was, you watched the news and heard stories. And the white mask and blue coveralls were unmistakable. You'd seen him through your window and locked all of the doors immediately. Then you waited. Patiently.

You didn't know what you were waiting for. Him to kill you... or to defend yourself. Your chances of survival were slim, he was inhumanly strong from what you'd heard. But you clutched a knife in your hand nonetheless, mirroring him in a strange way, in case you did suddenly have to fight him off.

Luckily, it never came down to that dilemma as he left a couple of hours later without even a step closer to your back door. You blinked and he was gone.

He came back the next night and did the same thing. And then the next night. And the next. And the next. Until it became a ritual.

You went about your evening and he watched. You always wondered whether he watched you during the day as well but you'd never noticed him. You also wondered what it was about you that didn't make him murder you straight away.

You were older than his usual victims, sure. And he supposedly liked to commit most of his crimes whilst his victims were in the middle of sexual acts and you didn't tend to have many visitors over. But then what was making him fixate on you?

You just couldn't figure it out.

It got to a point where you were less scared of him and more intrigued. Having him stand and stare was getting boring, you wanted to know why. No. You craved knowing why. But you couldn't ask him. You'd heard he wasn't fond of talking.

So what were you supposed to do? Just let it carry on? That was your only choice.

But things changed one evening.

When he appeared something didn't seem quite right. For one, he was seven minutes later than usual. And his left shoulder slumped forward with all of his weight placed onto his right leg.

He was injured.

And you couldn't help but feel bad for him.

So, like an insane person, you unlocked your door and opened it for him.

As you stood in the doorway staring at him, you noticed him straighten up. As if he were surprised. But you knew the man didn't show emotions, much less any that would display him being caught off guard in any way. So you put it down as your imagination or a trick of the moonlight.

But you left your door open. An invitation. Like he needed one of those.

He didn't move so you left the doorway and went to retrieve your first aid kit from the cabinet above the sink. And by the time you'd found it and turned back around, Michael Myers was standing about a foot into your kitchen.

You stared at him for a second, unsure of the emotions turning in your stomach. "Close the door. It's cold outside."

You really didn't know if you could afford to be giving him orders but considering he hadn't murdered you in the months he'd been watching you, you thought that you were probably safe until you'd at least bandaged up whatever wounds hid beneath the blue jumpsuit.

Not sticking around to see if he did it, you walked to your lounge and put a lamp on. His footsteps were silent so you kept an eye on the archway where he'd emerge from the kitchen. Which he did a few seconds later.

"Sit on the couch."

Surprisingly, he did as he was told. But you thought you might be pushing your luck so you stopped telling him to do things.

As he sat down, not relaxed in the slightest with the best posture you'd ever seen, you realised that getting a wounded man to sit on your nice furniture was probably a bad idea. What if he got blood everywhere? Too late now. You weren't going to ask him to move.

You moved towards him slowly, trying not to spook him. He still had a knife clutched in his hand after all. It was bloodstained. You ignored it.

Michael watched you closely, his head didn't move but you could feel his gaze through the dark eyeholes of the mask. It didn't escape your notice that he was still extremely tall even when sat down.

"What's hurt?"

It was a stupid question, you could see where blood was seeping through his clothes and the slashes in the fabric was clear. But given your very recent history of poor choices, an obvious question seemed like the least of your worries.

He didn't respond anyway. No finger point, no head tilt, no shrug. Not a single inch of his body moved apart from his chest from his breathing. If you couldn't see his inhales and exhales then you'd think he was some sort of dummy or mannequin.

"Have you got a shirt on underneath the jumpsuit?"

Why were you still asking questions?

He still said nothing, which you expected, but he did raise a hand to pop the first couple buttons open to reveal a grey t-shirt under the blue coveralls.

You sighed and nodded. "Um, you're going to need to- to undo a few more buttons. So I can get to your shoulder."

The blood stain was getting bigger and staining his clothes a deep purple.

He tilted his head to the side at you, the most emotion he'd shown so far. But he did as he was told again and then pushed the suit down his arms so it lowered to his waist. You didn't fail to notice how the grey t-shirt clung to him nicely, maybe a size or two too small, and displayed every inch of rippling muscle that covered him. Explained his inhuman strength.

You took a few supplies from the kit and started cleaning up the injury on his shoulder, careful to avoid staring at how his sleeve stretched against his bicep.

When you noticed him staring at you from the corner of your eye, you cleared your throat and pulled away again to distract yourself with looking for other injuries. Which was a fine idea until you realised that blood was dripping from beneath the rubber that adorned his face.

You went to lift the edge of the mask, no intention of taking it off, but his large hands gripped your wrists before you even had the chance. The knife was suddenly forgotten on the cushion of the couch.

You gasped in pain, his hold was tight, but didn't pull away. Trying your hardest to meet his eyes as best you could, you attempted to explain. "I'm not going to take it off but I need to get to your neck. You're bleeding. Lift the mask to your chin and hold it there so I can clean your neck."

There were a few tense moments of heavy breathing from him before he let go and did as you said. He was too agreeable, very out of character from all of the stories you'd heard about him. Were people wrong? Or was he acting differently than usual? How were you supposed to know?

You shook the thoughts from your head and got on with cleaning him up. You couldn't find the source of the blood so assumed it must've been coming from higher up on his face. But you weren't going to ask him to lift the mask anymore. You were a risk taker, if the night was any indication of that, but you didn't have a death wish. Mostly.

"Done." You mumbled and stepped back a few paces, looking down to clean away all of your supplies.

By the time you looked up he was standing again fully clothed.

"You going to kill me now finally?" There was a hint of laughter in your voice. If he did you wouldn't blame him. You probably deserved it after inviting a serial killer into your home and treating him like his own personal nurse.

He didn't respond, just turned and left the room. And by the time you got to the kitchen to follow him out, he was gone and the back door was shut and locked like he'd never even been there.

"See you tomorrow night then." You grumbled to yourself, assuming he'd return as he usually did.

And he did.

Uninjured this time. To your relief and, honestly, slight disappointment. There was really something very wrong with you.

But the routine returned to normal. Michael Myers would appear in your back yard every night at the same time and watch you for hours with no sign of even attempting to enter your house to murder you. And he'd leave when he was done watching whatever he sought out from you.

The initial thrill you'd had knowing he liked watching you had disappeared quickly after you'd realised there was less danger than you'd expected. And the fact that you could get so much closer to him was more exciting than anything else.

The idea of him being inside your house again played on your mind constantly, rolling around in there as regularly as a forbidden fantasy. And maybe it was. But surely you weren't fantasising about Michael Myers... right?

Perhaps the memory of his muscles and his height, just his sheer size even, plagued your brain way more often than was considered normal. The thought that he could probably just snap you in two with his large hands and impossible strength if he chose to, how easy it would be for him to break in and end your life on his will. But he chose not to.

That set your nerves alight.

So you turned your nights into a staring contest.

He'd stand in your back yard and stare into your window. You'd stand in your kitchen and stare out of your window.

And you slowly got more daring. You began to retire to bed earlier, going upstairs to your bedroom and changing right in his direct view. It was one of the few times he moved, tilting his head up slightly to see you better through the mask.

You didn't give him a full show, knowing it probably wasn't what he wanted. He liked to kill "promiscuous" people after all. But it was enough to give him an idea, a way to tease him. It was entertaining for you at least, even if he wasn't bothered.

But then one night when you noticed that he was a few feet closer to your house, you realised it was probably working.

He was tempted.

Whether it was to kill you or to do something else, you weren't sure. But you were exhilarated either way.

When he returned obviously injured again a few nights later, you sighed to yourself in annoyance. Yes, you were excited he'd be in your house again. But out of need, not want. You still unlocked your door and left it open for him as you waited in the lounge nevertheless.

When he emerged from the dark archway between your kitchen and your lounge, you looked him up and down. His stance was better than last time but he was covered in more blood. You deduced that it probably wasn't his.

"Sit." You whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Like manners were going to affect whether he killed you or not.

It went pretty much the same as the time before, cleaning the blood from him as best you could and bandaging up what was easy to access. He didn't flinch or wince, not even at the stuff that made your toes curl just from touching.

It wasn't until you were just finishing off spreading some antibacterial lotion on a gash on his thigh that you noticed he was breathing heavier than usual. You looked up at him and frowned, confused. But when he gave you no indication as to why he was suddenly almost hyperventilating, you shrugged it off and reached for a band-aid. As you glanced towards the wound to get an idea of the size you'd need for it, you realised what was wrong.

"Oh."

He was hard.

"Oh."

The prominent bulge in his crotch wasn't shy in showing you that it was there. He was big, to say at the very least.

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times before you settled on a reassurance. "It's okay. This happens. Especially when someone is touching you a lot."

You figured this was the most he'd been touched in over a decade.

"I'll just uh..." You stood up to step away from him but he launched his arm forward to grab you by the wrist, not letting you go any further.

"Michael..."

He answered you by tugging your body into his lap, legs straddling either side of his thighs. You made sure not to settle your weight onto him, very conscious of what that could lead to.

But he had other ideas.

He planted both of his large hands on either side of your waist and pushed you to sit fully against him. And there was a lot to sit against.

You bit your tongue to prevent any noise coming out. What now? What did he expect?

His breathing was shaky as he surveyed you through the small eyeholes of his mask, hands hovering over your sides for a second.

You couldn't deny that this position, this close proximity, was turning you on. Especially feeling how hard he was pushed up against you.

He seemed to decide what he wanted to do next as his fists gripped the fabric of your pyjama shirt, suddenly tearing it open so buttons flew everywhere and then ripping it off of you and tossing it to a darkened corner of the room. His hands didn't hesitate it exploring the new uncovered areas of skin, his rough callouses against your soft flesh. He was clearly enjoying this new adventure as he appeared to grow impossibly harder beneath you. Lots of him was impossible.

The clasp he had on your breasts was almost painful but your eyes rolled back in pleasure nevertheless. You liked that he was manhandling you, the strength you'd been fantasising about since day one finally being used on you.

His hands slid down your sides until they met your hips, fingers digging in and pulling them against his. A choked moan escaped your mouth drowning out the sound of his own grunt. When Michael decided that he seemed to like that, he did it again. Rougher this time. And quicker. Then he set a pace doing it over and over again. Your hands flew to his shoulders to give yourself something to hold onto, some grounding. Because this was more than you could handle.

How could something so simple feel so good?

The feeling of his coveralls rubbing against you through the thin material of your sleep shorts was heavenly. That, mixed with his hardness pushing against you in all the right place meant you were in pure ecstasy.

The uncontrollable noises leaving you would've been embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that this was the best you'd ever felt. And you hadn't even had sex. Yet.

Barely a sound left Michael, just the occasional short groan to go along with his heavy breathing.

You couldn't quite tell where he was looking until his head suddenly snapped down and his eyes clearly fixated on where your breasts were bouncing with the rapid movement of the two of you rocking against each other. A slightly louder noise left him then.

There was no rest for you, even if your legs did grow tired and you ran out of breath because he wouldn't let you stop moving. You knew you were probably creating a wet patch on his clothes and that would only grow bigger when he finally came. You were surprised he was lasting this long to be honest. For someone who had been locked up most of his life and hadn't had any sexual experience, he had some stamina in him. But maybe he wasn't a virgin. Was your assumption wrong?

You didn't get time to dwell on it as his arm suddenly locked around your waist and he stopped the two of you. Looking down at him, he was almost the perfect picture of composure. Just some heavy breathing indicated what the two of you had been up to. You couldn't imagine you looked quite as calm.

The arm around you stiffened as he titled the two of you to the side.

"What are you doi- woah." The room was plunged into darkness as he switched the lamp off and then pulled you tight against him again. "Why did you- oh."

Your unfinished question was answered with the sound of rubber hitting the floor penetrating your ears and the feeling of Michael's breath against your skin. You didn't get the chance to question him further as to why he did that as he immediately buried his face in the valley of your breasts and rocked your hips against his to get the friction going again, his free hand rubbing up and down your thigh as the two of you moved.

You bit your bottom lip, extremely happy that he hadn't decided to just stop and leave, that this was still going. The happiness only extended when he licked a drop of sweat off of your skin and you almost screamed. But you couldn't imagine if was the kind of screaming he was used to so you bit your tongue.

Trying to adjust to the sudden absence of light by blinking, but having little success, you looked down to where you imagined Michael's head would be. You saw nothing. Naturally, the only solution to that was to move your hands up his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. As you curled your fingers into the locks, you were pleasantly surprised to find how soft it was.

You would've smiled or giggled to yourself if he hadn't chosen that exact moment to bite into your collarbone and thrust up underneath you. Your response of tugging on his hair seemed to go down well as he did it again.

"Fuck." You whined against the top of his head, eyes scrunching shut.

That caught Michael's attention, his head pulling back and his free hand abandoning your thigh to wrap around the front of your neck, squeezing slightly when situated there.

You knew what he was doing. Mixing what he usually found pleasurable with this new experience. You wondered whether it was getting him off even more. If the way he was practically throbbing beneath you was any indication, then yes.

This added element of danger sent a shiver down your spine and an intense pulse to your core, making you rock against him without any prompting from him at all. You could still breathe but you knew he could stop that at any second if he chose to.

A breathless moan rumbled from the back of your throat as he squeezed your neck tighter, the arm locked around your waist pushing you against him even harder.

You were so close. So, so close. You chased your high like it was running away from you, rubbing yourself against him as roughly as you could. But there was no need.

Because when Michael leaned forward again to lick a long strip up from your left breast to your neck and then bit you, hard, it was like you saw the pearly gates of heaven. Or the fiery descent to hell.

Your orgasm crashed over you in hot waves as you collapsed against him, forcing his body to hit the back of the couch as your forehead met his and you gasped into his mouth, lips almost grazing but not quite meeting. Your grasp on his hair was tight, tugging on the roots like they were your lifeline. Your naked chest pressed against his clothed one, and that combined with the slight pain of the hair pulling was enough for Michael to come underneath you.

You could feel him twitching against you, only making you shudder against him more, as the wet patch on his jumpsuit grew as you predicted. The quietest extended groan left his mouth as he tensed beneath you, arms locking around you. His hips bucked up against yours a few times weakly before he grew limp.

You rested for a moment, trying to gain some strength back in your shaking legs, before you pushed off of him and stood up. Feeling around in the air for the lamp, you covered your eyes before switching it back on.

"Find your mask and put it back on." You instructed, waiting a moment for him to do so.

He didn't make any noise as he moved, as usual, and the only indication you had that he was done was the looming feeling of his presence in front of you and the sound of his exhales rattling the rubber that adorned him.

You uncovered your eyes and squinted against the sudden light, looking up to find Michael almost chest to chest with you. Well, head to chest. He was very tall after all.

Your gaze flickered down to his left hand which was slightly extended towards you. He was holding your pyjama shirt. The one he'd ruined by ripping all of the buttons off.

"Oh, thanks." You took it from him and put it back on, holding it together at the front by crossing your arms against your chest.

Probably a bad idea considering this position made the top gape open and your breasts push together to create an exaggerated cleavage. Michael didn't seem to mind as he lifted his right hand and traced a finger across the swell of your breasts for a moment before dropping his arm back to his side again.

You dropped your eyes away in embarrassment, and slight arousal, and noticed the mess the two of you had made on his blue jumpsuit.

"You're gonna want to wash that." You said, meekly gesturing towards it. You couldn't deny that seeing the stains that you'd made together was making your skin feel hot again.

He didn't even look to see what you were talking about, just continued to stare at you through his mask.

You tried to come up with something to say but nothing sprung to mind. What were you supposed to say to a serial killer that you'd just dry humped and orgasmed on top of?

It seemed like you didn't need to come up with a one-sided conversation starter though as he suddenly turned on his heel and left the room. You hesitated before following him. Stupid really since you couldn't even keep up with him at the best of times, especially not now on weak legs.

And, as usual, by the time you'd reached the kitchen he was gone and the door was locked.

He continued to return every night as normal but didn't enter your house again. No injuries seemed to be inflicted upon him for a while. You were beginning to get bored. Sighing every time he left with no hint of coming inside again.

Which is why a few days later you were very shocked by his out of character behaviour.

You woke up cold, your blankets stripped from your bed and the feeling of someone watching you sinking a chilling freeze into your bones. It was soon clear why you felt that way.

His silhouette was partially outlined by the moonlight coming through your bedroom window as he stood over you.

You shot up in bed, giving yourself a head rush. "Michael, what the fu-" You were cut off as he grasped the hand that was reaching for your bedside lamp. "No light? Why?"

He answered your question by pressing something rubber into your palm. His mask.

"Oh. Okay..." You frowned to yourself as you dropped the mask on your nightstand. What was he expecting you to do if he was injured but you couldn't see him? "I can't clean your wounds if it's dark."

It was too dark to see his face but the natural light from outside was enough to see him shake his head no. He wasn't injured. What did he need then?

"Then what? Why are you here? At this time?" You were still slightly dazed from just waking up, trying to shake some coherent thought into your head. What was the time? He'd already been and gone earlier that evening. How had he gotten in? You were sure you'd locked the door? Maybe that made no difference?

His breathing was heavy, shoulders moving up and down with his laboured inhales and exhales.

His grip on your wrist hadn't loosened as he pulled your hand towards him, resting it on his abdomen and then slowly dragging down and down and-

"Oh."

He was hard.

Very hard.

"You want me to-"

You'd guessed by this point that he probably hated hearing you talk as he was always cutting you off. This time by pushing on your shoulders so you fell flat on your back and bounced on the mattress. And then he was on top of you in mere fractions of a second.

He was smothering.

His mere presence was enough to stop your breath in your throat and having him be this close, having all of his weight pressed against you this way, practically stole the oxygen from your bloodstream.

His breath was hot on your face, his nose barely grazing against yours before he moved to trace it along your hairline and then down your neck where he inhaled deeply, groaning lowly at your scent.

You reached up to touch him but he was too fast, clasping both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

"This doesn't work if I can't touch you." You mumbled frustratedly, more to yourself than to him.

It wasn't strictly true but what did he know? Last time he hadn't used any real technique, just done whatever felt best for him which luckily also felt good for you. He'd used the mere skill brought to him by innate exploration. Maybe this time he'd be more purposeful with you.

Unlikely.

The statement you'd made seemed to have some sort of influence on him though as he slowly let go of your wrists and let you dig one into his hair, where you gently pulled on it, and let the other drift to undo the top buttons of his coveralls. You popped them open cautiously, one by one, until your nails stroked the material of his grey undershirt. You assumed it was grey as usual.

Your fingers wandered to the neckline where you swooped the index to get a feel of his skin. He froze above you but didn't stop you.

"I'm going to undo more. Just stop me if you want. But gently." You clarified, not wanting bruised wrists in the morning which was guaranteed if he grabbed them with his vice-like grip again.

Each button fell open easily, like they were dying to be free from their clasps, and Michael didn't stop you once. And when the last one was undone, he leant back slightly on his knees to let you push the jumpsuit down so it bunched around his waist just like the first time he'd been in your house.

You took the opportunity to let your hands roam the muscles you'd been admiring since the first time you'd seen him up close. They were solid. He was solid.

He crowded over you again, breathing getting more rapid the more you touched him. He let out a soft sound when your hands reached his crotch, palming him over his clothes.

"Take them off and I can touch you more." You offered, attempting to sound sultry but sure you just sounded desperate instead.

He hesitated but did as you said, standing up to push the jumpsuit further down his legs but still not taking it off completely. Then he was on top of you again, pushing your hand against him before you even had the chance to realise he was so close again. You squeezed him through his underwear and he bucked his hips against your palm.

You did that for a while, moving your hand up and down the outline of him through the material and ignoring the ache between your own legs. Getting him riled up was a lot of fun, especially when he let noises slip every now and again. You just wished you could see the reactions on his face. Did he bite his lip? Did he screw his eyes shut? Was his jaw dropped open? You guessed you'd never know.

While those thoughts plagued your mind, it seemed Michael had changed his. And what was happening wasn't good enough for him anymore. So he slapped your hand away suddenly. Before you could even begin to utter a sentence, he ripped your pyjama shirt open.

Great, another one ruined.

His hands shot to your chest, away from where they'd been resting either side of your head previously, and he started to knead the flesh. Your back arched, pushing your chest closer to his and making your nipples rub against the fabric of his t-shirt. Michael must've figured out that the stimulation was good based on the gasp you let out as he moved his attention to your nipples, flicking and tweaking them with his fingers.

He didn't seem hesitant at all in what he was doing but it was also clear he wasn't experienced either. There was no rhythm to his touches, he just did whatever felt right. And that worked for you.

You grew extremely wet when he started grinding himself against your core from instinct alone. You wanted more, craved more, needed more.

Your hands flew to the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down a few inches to pull him free. You knew he was big but having the real thing in your hand, no clothing barriers at all, was a whole other story.

You could hear his teeth clicking shut when you started to stroke him, skin on skin, spreading his pre-cum up and down his length.

"Fuck, Michael. Jesus." You garbled, head wild with lust and nothing else. "Need you inside me."

He stopped moving at that, hands falling away from your chest and hips no longer bucking to pump himself into your palm.

Maybe he really was clueless.

"You know? Inside me?" You reached around to find one of his hands, pushing it down the waistband of your sleep shorts until his fingers met your wetness.

He wasn't even doing anything but the sensation alone of him touching you made you shiver. That was until he seemed to understand what he was feeling. His head tilted to the side, just about visible in the moonlight, as he let his fingers explore. As he grazed your clit, you squeaked quietly. He seemed to like that so he did it a couple more times, just to illicit a reaction out of you. But he got bored quickly and kept on feeling.

When he reached the source of the wetness, he pushed a finger in. You moaned. Loudly. He liked that a lot more, so pulled out the finger and reinserted with a second one joining in. Your eyes rolled back at this. And the sounds you made reached a new decibel. Michael did the same thing again and again, pumping his fingers just to feel you clench around him.

When he eventually pulled his fingers free, you whined in protest before the sounds of him sucking the taste of you off of his skin hit you. And you decided that maybe the loss of contact was okay if that's what he was going to do instead.

When he was satisfied with that, Michael tore your shorts off of you completely and tossed them over his shoulder somewhere. Then his underwear was pushed further down and he was spreading your legs apart, as far as they would go.

Your heart rate picked up further than it was already running, probably entering dangerous territory. But you didn't care. It was finally about to happen.

Michael crawled over you, shadowed face hanging above yours. You just nodded at him, wondering whether he was able to see you do it. Either way, he seemed to get the message that you really really wanted to do this. So, with a hand on one of your thighs to hold you in place, and the other on his cock to guide him, he pushed into you.

At that moment you decided that you were definitely seeing the devil in the afterlife.

But it was worth it for this.

He stretched you open perfectly, gliding in with ease considering how wet you already were. But that was nothing in comparison to how you felt hearing him letting out what could only be described as a mixture between a whimper and a pleasured groan against your ear.

If never hearing him talk meant that the noises he let out during sex made you tingle, then you'd take his silence any day.

The hand on your thigh moved to curl your leg around his waist, changing the angle so he moved into you deeper. And the other rested against your head to keep him propped up. Yours scraped down his back in ecstasy, probably leaving nail marks along the plains of his skin. You were sure he wouldn't mind, he'd had worse injuries.

He stayed still once he'd entered you, stiff but breathing heavily.

"Move, Michael." You whispered. "Please move."

And when he pulled out and slammed back in again, you were positive you could see the grim reaper knocking at your door ready to whisk you away to the tortuous pits of hell.

All you knew is that you certainly weren't seeing heaven after this.

Michael grunted, head hanging so his soft hair tickled against your skin. But he seemed to get the idea as he pumped in and out of you at a ruthless pace. Skin slapped together, your chests rubbing against one another as you bounced up and down the surface of the bed, which shuffled along the floor with every thrust.

You'd never known sex to be so loud. Maybe you'd just never had sex as good as this. Because the roaring of blood in your ears definitely wasn't helping.

You couldn't help the sounds that were escaping your parted lips, thankful that your neighbours' houses weren't close enough to hear you. Your other leg moved to wrap around Michael's waist, tugging him closer to you and locking him in place. You need him to be as close as possible, to be as deep inside you as possible.

The hand on your thigh dug in deep, certainly leaving bruises, before trailing up the length of your body and wrapping around the front of your neck. He pushed down this time, squeezing slightly to cut off your airway just a little. It excited you more than anything and made you clench around him.

That seemed unexpected to Michael as he faltered slightly before pounding into you harder than before, having absolutely no mercy on your body. You only clenched harder.

His pattern began to fumble, thrusts become more forceful but less regular. He was getting close. And you weren't far off either. You let one of your hands fall from his back and placed it between the two of you, starting to rub your clit. He took notice of this and pushed your hand away to replace it with his own, letting oxygen rush back into your lungs again.

The head rush combined with the pressure on your clit tipped you over the edge into oblivion. You choked out a muffled scream as your orgasm ripped through your body, tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

But Michael didn't let up for a second. This just seemed to give him a new wave of energy as his pace picked up rubbing tight circles on your clit and slamming into you with no forgiveness.

You approached the edge rapidly again, the raw feeling over overstimulation pushing you closer and closer. His sweat dripped onto you, creating a sheen that let your bodies slide against each other in erotic heat. You could feel every inch of him either against you or inside of you. And that thought made you come again. This time the scream was less muffled.

The feeling of you clenching around him again like a vice had Michael finally hitting his peak too, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. If you weren't so spent already, that would've made for three orgasms.

He bit down on the skin of your shoulder to prevent any noises coming out too loud, but he couldn't mask all of them. He twitched inside of you as he gave a few last lazy bucks of his hips before he pulled out completely, standing up and looking down at you.

You really wondered how good his vision must be in this light for him to be able to see you. Or maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was faking it.

Either way you didn't care, too exhausted suddenly to really think about it. You began to drift to sleep, desperately trying to keep your eyes open to see what he'd do next. You vaguely remembered seeing him get dressed again. But you don't remember him leaving. Or moving you to rest your head back on your pillow. Or him pulling your blankets over you again.

Maybe he didn't do any of that. Maybe you did in your sleepy state.

It didn't matter. He was still gone before you even had the chance to register what happened.

But you were pleased when the next night, you glanced out of your kitchen window and found him stood there as usual, watching you. From now on, you were just going to leave your door unlocked to make it easier for him.

A/N: To celebrate my Halloween, I watched Halloween (1978) home alone whilst my housemates all went to a party. It inspired me to write this.

[thegirlwhowatchedeverything]

Under The Table 4x7 Bears

The under the table scene is an intimate conversation between two people despite being the most cast heavy scene (at least of S4) with vulnerability, choosing your partner, and humor.

Vulnerability:

The responses of their greatest fear from the group are split - some more superficial, some more vulnerable. Both Carmy and Syd subvert expectation by answering in a vulnerable way. If it were just the two of them on screen, say idk a totally unrelated moment like 2x9 Omelette for example lol, I would not have questioned them being very honest. But the fact that are vulnerable despite their entire family and friend group watching (and for Syd a bunch of randos she just met) shows it's still just the two of them. Neither of them are great with expressing themselves. Ironically Carmy does it best and most consistently with Syd - he's constantly staring, asking if she/they are okay/apologizing, loving her to the point of invention with her clothes inspiring his dishes. While Syd can talk about Carmy with anyone but Carmy - Marcus and the best meal in 1x8 Braciole, not crush to TJ in 4x4 Worms, or Donna herself moments before this scene. But Syd goes first and shares her biggest fear that we've known about since 1x5 Sheridan when she opened up to Carmy and has been more and more prominent - about to culminate in her nightmare in 4x8 Green and the most relatable, iconic complete total nightmare, failure, baby-ass fucking bitch soliloquy. Also I know he's not there by miles but growth for Carmy going from 1x6 Ceres I guess all the time I'm kind of trapped because I can't describe how I'm feeling. So to ask somebody else how they're feeling that just seems...I don't know insane - cut to asking others how they feel (Syd, Stevie you guys get scared, right?) to help someone else express their feelings (Eva) and then responding how he feels to a physical audience (Bears) but actual audience of one (The Bear).

Choosing Your Partner

Carmy's constantly back and forth between letting Syd down and messing around with Claire but never actually committing to Claire. Cue the fifty-eleven million contrasts we get between Syd and Claire that represent this. But in following Syd's lead by choosing vulnerability in this conversation, he actively rejects Claire and picks Syd. He could have chosen Claire here as she takes the easy road out by saying she's terrified of bees which is the biggest nothing of this entire scene.

Sidenote: the writers love to give her screen time and do absolutely nothing with it but run out the clock, I'm just going to contrast her response with some others that are great examples of how the show mixes honestly and vulnerability and realness with humor. They give us tiny crumbs of these characters that flesh them out and are not a waste of time aka bees:

Neil saying he's afraid of big dogs which actually circles back to why he has cats (Ralph and Ralph from 1x1).

Ted being claustrophobic (I got two minutes in here, tops) but it actually underscores (in a small, silly way) he's brave and lives with his heart on his sleeve. He and Kelly are the only example of a healthy, positive first falling in love relationship on the show? (Pete and Nat are an established couple, I'm talking newly formed). Like these two support level, comic relief characters get the most direct first I love you that was never shown between Carmy and Claire. We even get the humorous lead up of Ted confusing the taboo of proposals vs I love yous at weddings. In contrast we get this in 2x8 Bolognese:

Neil: What do you love about her?

Carmy: I don't know I just love her a whole lot.

Pete saying he's most scared of capers even though Nat is cooking with capers for their dinner in 1x2 Hands with Donna's lemon piccata recipe (like Carm for Syd, Pete would take a train for Nat - even if it meant eating a caper).

Sorry, back on track (riding a train to take said bullet for Syd) Carmy takes Syd's lead rather than Claire's AGAIN not just by being vulnerable but rejecting her take on his fear because she doesn't know him, (just seen glimpses 4x3 Scallop). Claire suggests the opposite of chaos is peace, but it's not - its consistency which Syd is the literal definition of (have a lot to say about this but need to organize my thoughts and then refresh myself on the great meta that's already been said by my fellow tumblerinas on this season and in the past). In the vein that the opposite of love is not hate it's indifference...are you with me? It's okay if not haha *returns to red string board.*

In fact Sydney reframes chaos as mess and dysfunction in 4x1 (because thoughtful chaos is a whole other percolating rant that is at the heart of this show, the key to the menu and the restaurant and what finally needs to be embraced for everything to click). Also perhaps the best way to frame Carmy's thoughts here are literally what he says right after Syd says he doesn't need the dysfunction in 4x1 Groundhogs:

Carmy: I don't like dysfunction.

Syd: What do you like?

Carmy: *stares at Syd* This.

He doesn't like mess or dysfunction. He doesn't like Claire. He likes Syd.

What makes Carmy standing on Syd's side, choosing her more significant is that Claire is a bully. And Carmy's been bullied his whole life - we can only imagine dynamic with dad, we know what went down with Donna, then there's the Richie and Mikey of it all who love him but yikes - the three of them's interactions in Fishes for example are ick, especially during the Claire discussion (foreshadowing). Not to mention the fact he was a short kid with a stutter rendering him scared to speak half the time (1x8 Braciole). And sadly that made Carm somewhat of a bully himself for a minute when somebody new came into the restaurant to stage, I looked at them like they were competition like I'm gonna smoke this motherfucker (again 1x8). Real quick bully Claire recap (and ofc I'm not excusing Carm - Claire is a bully but Carm made these choices, he's at fault at the end of the day)

Ignored fake number

Forced 30+ year old man she knows is a traumatized introvert to a high school vibes party of randos because she gave him a ride and he owes her.

Making him sit under the table with her - a friend who's a girl when he's already done this with his actual girlfriend in 2x9. At least she cops to this afterwards in 4x7.

Claire: I really, uh, forced you to participate.

Carmy: Kind of.

But here, once again, Carmy chooses Syd who is his best, biggest (arguably) only true choice.

Carmy: I don't know. What's...what's like the opposite of chaos?

(sincere question he's asking and has been wrestling with since forever but specifically after Syd says he doesn't need mess or dysfunction and would be better without it in 4x1)

Claire: Peace.

Carmy. (immediately, zero hesitation) Right. Math then. I think it would be math.

Humor:

Rejecting Claire for math expeditiously is inherently humorous. And I think in addition to truly rejecting her analysis of him, (again she's only seen glimpses), Carmy's telling an inside joke to Syd. Everyone, including Claire, laughs. It's an open secret, a well known joke he's bad at math. Claire could see how bad he was at math with him in crunching the numbers for the reno in S2 (and hell let's throw it back to their shared algebra class Claire very much remembers being seated behind him for that Carm does not 2x5 Pop). We know Richie, Marcus, and Nat already know given his pizza box math struggle of 2x1 Beef, debt clock discussion of 4x1 Groundhogs, etc. But the most recent discussion he had about math was with Syd about hypothetical apples and literal fennel in 4x2 Soubise (blood orange sub fennel allergy) so he's directly speaking to her when he sides with math.

Syd: You're very bad at math.

And she laughs with everyone else but then she makes a choice to make a joke on his behalf not at it to show she's laughing with Carmy and not at him. Syd punches up when it feels Claire punches down or at least her attempts to tease either come across as bullying or flat. She jokes to Eva that's Carmy's *really* scared and mocks him later before dancing that she's surprised he didn't say he's afraid of refrigerators (giving a lot of annoying Richie digs in S3 and S4 until they make up at the end + Claire's weird glee at Richie's white lie to Frank - bully behavior and you and Tiff are friends but you're like undermining her new husband for trying to sincerely bond with his new stepdaughter, the same stepdaughter you're imploring to open up to you...?). Meanwhile Syd holds Carm accountable (you're shutting down 4x1, when you take your past out at me and the restaurant that's not okay 4x10), but this is not something he needs to atone for. Him sucking at math is not another example of why he thinks he's toxic and why he needs to remove himself (as Carmy explains his decision to leave to Syd in 4x10). Being bad at math is not a mistake he needs to rectify like apologizing to people. Syd ends the discussion by teasing in the background:

Syd: Math's also afraid of you.

Like yeah this man sucks at math but I don't (COGS queen since extra credit in S1) so that's a CP (manageable, not a deal breaker - you're not a dealbreaker) so fuck math (and brunch) we have other fish lamb to fry and we're gonna figure it out. In the meantime all we can do is laugh, like Syd does after Richie asks how the fuck they are going to keep The Bear open in 4x10. And Carmy repeatedly assures we're gonna figure it out.

In Summation

We close the season in 4x10 with Syd standing face to face with Carmy having the most in depth, honest conversation yet = Vulnerability

Transition to Richie coming out as an adversary in the most physical and emotional way when they lock heads. Syd physically and verbally intervenes for Richie to stop. Then we get to the longer standing, deeper resentment:

Richie: I felt like you resented me.

Carmy: I did.

Richie: Why?

Carmy: Because you were like inside my family. Like you, you really knew my family. You got to spend time with him. And you really knew him, you know?

During this conversation, repeatedly Syd is shot over Carmy's shoulder and her standing behind him being on his side emotionally and physically being on his side of frame = Choosing Your Partner

And then it ends with them side by side as Nat hugs Carm after Syd manages to crack a small joke at the end = Humor

Syd: Um...he's leaving. He's leaving the restaurant. All restaurants, I think?

Like this is her coming to terms with him leaving the mess (Claire), the dysfunction (the past) but not her. And her not leaving either.

Carmy: We're going to figure it out. We are.

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: mafia! Seongjoong x f! yn

Word Count: 3517

Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence, minor injuries, slight possessive/yandere joong (not super noticeable), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, mafia au, exes to lovers, M for mature audiences

Summary: After leaving the mafia scene for five years, you've had to go back and beg for help from the boss of your former family...and your ex.

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), some praise, degredation, spitroasting, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, creampie, fingering, felching (again), squirting, one spank, dom/sub (seongjoong dom, yn sub), undernegotiated kinks (its been a while since they fucked so things may have changed but they don't discuss. don't do this)

Written for tipsy drabbles! took me like 3 days to write the smut itself lmao

-

“So. You’ve found your way back to me, begging for me.” You keep your eyes lowered, not afraid but too ashamed to look Hongjoong in the eyes. You haven’t seen the head of the MATZ gang in a long time. Not since the last boss was alive and he was just a capo in his own right. Not since you had left him standing in the hall of his mansion, citing immaturity when it was just your fears of commitment to a mafia member. You know you broke his heart, but he stitched it back up quickly, yelling after you that if you ever came back he wouldn’t help you.

And yet, how the tables have turned.

“I had…I had nowhere else to go. Turn me away if you wish, but hear me out first. Please, Hongjoong.” You keep your gaze focused on your ratty sneakers, a far cry from the Louboutins you used to wear.

“Look at me first.” You freeze. From his tone of voice, you know he knows why you’re here. “I won’t repeat myself, YN.”

Slowly, you bring your head up, wincing at the sharp pain in your throbbing head from the sudden movement. You’re sure you look a mess, with the black eye and split lip. You keep your line of sight trained on the window next to Hongjoong instead of his face, but you can’t miss the way his eyes darken at the sight of you broken in front of him.

“What. Happened.”

His voice is cold and you flinch, hands wringing behind your back as you refuse to break down in front of your first lover (and if you stop lying to yourself, he still is in your heart). “...It was Yang Beomhun. I left you but he tracked me down and thought he could use me as leverage against you. It didn’t work, but at that point, he decided he might as well keep me around for himself and the pretence he had put up dropped. I…don’t know what else to do.”

It was a miracle you were even let back into his mansion. You thought you would have to live a life of suffering with Beomhun as your tormentor, but one of the family had somehow recognised you and let you in, citing it to be some sick joke.

And maybe it was. Who leaves the mafia out of fear for their future, only to end up being run ragged by the justice system? It’s ironic, ending right back up where you left, but once again, you have nothing left to lose.

“Why don’t you just leave him? You clearly are able to.”

You choose to ignore the jibe. “I couldn't. I’ve tried. It was a miracle I made it here, and that was with the help of someone who likely has gotten into deeper trouble.” You can feel your body shaking with the effort to keep your cool. “I don’t know what to tell you. Give me a new life, or just fucking kill me, Hongjoong. I don’t want to be caught in the middle again. I left to avoid the danger but no matter what I do, all I get is the same thing.”

Silence settles over the both of you. It’s only a moment later you realise you finally admitted the real reason you left. Your head shifts lower and you squeeze your eyes shut, both from embarrassment and trying to keep yourself on your feet.

After a long breath, you feel slender fingers on your chin that tip your face up. Blearily, you blink your eyes open to see Hongjoong staring down at you, eyes hiding any emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is soft, softer than you’ve heard in a long time. “I would’ve protected you, given you the safest life I could.”

“I…back then I didn’t want that, Joong. I just wanted a normal life. Not a safe one.” Your eyes are fighting to stay open.

“And now? What do you want?” You open your mouth to speak, but instead, your legs give out and Hongjoong drops to keep you from cracking your head on the wooden floor. “YN, wait–”

-

When you reawaken, you’re in an intricate bedroom you remember as the one you stayed in when you and Hongjoong were still dating. It’s changed quite a bit, his bookshelves cleared and the desk is gone, but otherwise, the drapes remain the same, and the carpet and plants as well. Your body aches but your mind is refreshed, the exhaustion from yesterday gone.

You can feel a heavy weight on the left side of the bed and your heart softens at the sight of Hongjoong sitting beside you, head in his arms as he rests his torso on the bed. As much as you hate to admit it, you missed him every moment you were gone. But you hurt him irrevocably and you know there’s not much you can do to win him back.

Your hand reaches up involuntarily, just about to brush through his platinum blond locks when his head snaps up. Your hand jerks back although his eyes are still closed. “You’re up,” he hums, eyes slowly blinking open. “The medic said you were just exhausted, but I’m glad to see you’re up.”

You stare at him, brows furrowed. “Why are you glad? I hurt you. I don’t deserve your worry.”

Hongjoong’s brow raises. “I don’t think you get to decide who I get to worry about. Yes, you hurt me. But we were young and dumb. We were hardly adults, thrust into a dangerous situation. And I would be lying to say I didn’t miss you, rosebud.”

Your face flushes at the nickname you hadn’t heard in years and Hongjoong smiles at the sight of it. He shifts over, leaning in to brush his nose against yours when the door slams open. “Boss, Seonghwa’s back.”

Your brows furrow. “Seonghwa?” The name escapes your lips before you can catch it and Hongjoong’s eyes narrow to level a sharp gaze at you.

“You met him?” His question is light but there’s danger behind it.

“Yes—He’s the one that helped me escape Beomhun. He was new on the task force, but he saw how Beomhun treated me and was the only one who cared to help me.” You speak quickly, trying to ease the tension lurking in Hongjoong’s eyes. “I swear on my life, Joong. He’s done nothing wrong except help me.”

Hongjoong stares at you for a long moment before he stands quickly, smoothing down his suit. “YN, come. Let’s see this Seonghwa for ourselves.”

Before you can even say anything, he grabs your wrist, pulling you along. You don’t know how to react, much less if you should react, and the entire way down to the basement is silent. You come to a stop behind a glass window, two-way if you remember correctly, and you stare at the slender figure sitting at the table, with sharp eyes and a split lip. “That’s him,” you breathe out.

Hongjoong hums. “Aww, he came all this way to see if you were alive? How sweet. Why don’t you go and show him how much you appreciate him? After all the work I put him to to keep you safe?” His hand pushes at your side a little and you snap your head towards him.

“Joong–” you gasp in shock and confusion.

Hongjoong turned to stare you down. “What? You think I would actually just let you go like that, five years ago? You’re mine, and you’d do well to remember that.” He chuckles low in his throat, his lips pulling into a shark’s smile. “Seonghwa here is my underboss. I trust him the most when it comes to my personal affairs, and I think he deserves a reward for the work he’s done. Come on, baby, why don’t you show him how good you can be?”

Before you can say anything else, he swings the door open and pulls you through. “Hwa, say ‘hi’ to my little rosebud. She’s here to give you a little treat for protecting her.”

He pushes you forward again and you stumble on your feet until large, warm hands land on your waist as you stop between Seonghwa’s open thighs. “Aren’t you just precious, huh,” he groans, pressing his thumbs into your hip bones. “Little missy is just too worried about me, is that right, baby?”

You cast a glance back at Hongjoong, where he’s taken a seat from across the room and is palming at the growing bulge in his pants. Without even thinking about it, your thighs squeeze together and you flush. “Joong–” Back when you were still with him, the two of you would find newcomers to fuck, some kind of sick power play Joong got off on. It’s somewhat comforting to see not much has changed in that regard…and it makes heat bloom in your core.

Seonghwa’s hand gripping your chin directs your gaze to his dark eyes. “Come on, miss, I went to all that work keeping you safe, don’t you want to show your appreciation?” He arches a perfect brow and you swear the expression on his face only serves to make your face even hotter.

“Show him how good you can be, YN,” Hongjoong commands from behind you, his voice heavy. And, well, who are you to disobey him? Immediately, you drop to your knees, your habits from years back still ingrained into your brain.

Seonghwa chuckles, his fingers combing through your hair slowly as he palms his cock straining against his leather pants. “Come on, princess. Show me how good those pretty lips are.”

You don’t need much more prompting than that, quickly reaching forward to undo his belt and slide his zipper down. With a groan, Seonghwa lifts his hips enough for you to shove his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. The tip of it is an angry red, dripping pre-come and your eyes zero in on it.

Seonghwa places his hand on the top of your head, and you don’t need much more prompting before dipping down and pressing a kiss to the tip. You can hear him sigh and it's enough to make you sink down to envelop the head of it in your mouth, letting spit pool around it. Any other day you’d be in the mood to tease, but with Hongjoong watching all you want is to be good.

“Shit, her mouth is so good,” Seonghwa groans, his thighs straining as his hands tighten in your hair. “So perfectly willing to be used.”

You feel another spike of heat in your core as you clench around nothing at his words. The way he doesn’t even direct it at you, only at Hongjoong turns you on more than you’d like to admit it would. “You can be rougher with her, she likes it,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through the fog slowly encapsulating your mind.

Without hesitation, Seonghwa pushes your head down even further and you gag, eyes rolling back at the rough treatment. “Holy shit, she’s into it.” There’s absolute glee in Seonghwa’s voice, and his hips give an experimental thrust. You moan around his thick length, eyes squeezing shut as your spit dribbles down his length. Any shame you feel dissolves into arousal and you can’t help but wriggle your hips, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Look at you, so needy for anything.” Hongjoong’s voice is closer than you remember, and you flinch when you feel his cool hands on your shoulders. They trail down, patting your ass before reaching to cup you through your pants. “Come on, hands and knees for me, okay?”

It takes you a moment to respond, but when Hongjoong paps you on your cunt again, you scramble to present your ass to him while still keeping Seonghwa in your mouth. You can hear both of them chuckle at your eagerness. “She’s such a perfect slut, Joong,” the bite in Seonghwa’s voice makes you whine low in your throat. “So happy to just take cock and sit still, all pretty for us.”

Hongjoong hums as he pulls down your pants and underwear in one swift moment, pressing his fingers against your sopping pussy. “She’s so wet, truly the perfect whore for us,” he sighs, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. His movements are fast, precise, and more slick gushes out of you as you keep moaning around Seonghwa’s cock.

Before you can grind against his hand, his fingers disappear just as fast as they entered you and you whine, feeling much too empty. “Eager or not, bitches should learn patience,” Hongjoong sneers and a smack resounds in the room. You register the stinging pain on your ass a second later and you moan, the sound of it muffled.

Your eyes tear up from the pain and Seonghwa coos, his long fingers brushing away the tears. You lean into the comfort subconsciously but as you do so, you can feel the blunt head of Hongjoong’s cock rubbing against your folds and the slick sounds make your brain fuzzy. The tip of it repeatedly catches on your clit and each time it sends a shock to your core.

Before you can whine any more, Hongjoong lines his cock up to your cole and pushes in without any warning. Your eyes snap open as your body is pushed forward and Seonghwa’s cock is driven deeper into your mouth. “Shit–” Seonghwa groans, his other hand coming down to grip your hair and keep your head in place.

Hongjoong giggles from behind you before drawing back and slamming back in again. The force of his thrust spears him so perfectly inside you, the girth of his cock stretching you open so well. He didn’t prep you well enough, but the sting makes you even wetter. It’s been years, and he still knows exactly what you like and it makes both your heart and your cunt throb. Seonghwa’s cock is longer, but the stretch of Hongjoong is just what you like and you clench around him.

“God, after all this time, you still are so fucking tight. Maybe I didn’t fuck you well enough before,” Hongjoong leans down to whisper in your ear, his weight pushing you impossibly further onto Seonghwa’s dick. “Maybe I’ll let Seonghwa fuck you too until your pussy is nice and sloppy for me to take any time I want. You may be mine, but Seonghwa is too and it would be cruel of me to not let my two playthings have their own fun.”

You’re a little ashamed to admit the idea of that makes you moan, and Hongjoong presses a kiss to your shoulder before biting the flesh, his hips starting to jackhammer into you, setting an unforgiving pace.

Your body goes lip, Hongjoong’s arms around your waist and Seonghwa’s hands in your hair the only thing keeping you up. You really do feel like a doll used only for their enjoyment but something about it is perfect and you keep your mouth slack as your eyes roll back in your head. Your cunt is throbbing, pulsing around Hongjoong as he hits the spongy spot inside of you with surprising accuracy. Seonghwa’s started thrusting into your mouth as well, your jaw aching but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You can hear them speaking to each other above you but you’re too far gone to make sense of anything they’re saying, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two men on either side pound into you. But before you can say or do anything, Seonghwa comes, ropes of his come shooting down your throat without you needing to swallow. As his orgasm washes over him, he pulls his cock out, moving one of his hands to your jaw and squeezing, keeping your mouth open and pliant. The tip of his dick rests against your lower lip as drops of come land in your mouth and dribble down your lips. When his cock softens, he tucks himself back in and leans down to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow.” His voice is rough and heavy, and you follow his command immediately. You don’t even notice Hongjoong stilled his hips until a moment later and you whine.

“So greedy,” Hongjoong scoffs, his hands gripping your waist and his nails digging into the skin. Without warning, he pulls you back down on his cock and you moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream. “Your cunt is swallowing me so well, baby. I could do this for hours and I bet you’d just let it happen. God, I can’t believe I let you go last time, no one else could be such a perfect little cumdump for me.”

He punctuates each other with another thrust until he’s groaning as he reaches the edge of his pleasure, his come shooting deep into you and coating your walls. “God, she’s taking you so well,” Seonghwa hums, brushing your hair out of your eyes, the gentleness of his actions the complete opposite of how he was treating your mouth not a minute earlier.

Hongjoong laughs, pulling out his cock to see his come dripping out of you and making a little pool on the floor. His arms release you and you collapse onto the cool tile, your body shuddering. “She’s good, isn’t she,” he says fondly, his hands coming to pull apart your cheeks, admiring the sight of your hole fluttering around nothing. “She hadn’t even come after that. Would you like to reward this good behaviour, Hwa?” 

A chuckle leaves Seonghwa as he moves around to settle in between your legs. You’re too tired to shift to see what they’re doing and you gasp as a flat tongue presses against your dripping hole. Your back arches and Hongjoong chuckles, pressing down on your shoulders to shove you further onto the tile.

Your thighs are shaking from the effort of keeping your hips up, but Seonghwa’s grip doesn’t relent as he licks into you like a starved man, tasting both your slick and Hongjoong’s come. The way it flicks your clit and it doesn’t take long for you to come apart on the title, moans spilling out of your mouth easily as you feel a great pressure on your core and your body shakes from the effort of it. You can hear the sloppy, wet sounds of Seonghwa licking up your release and even when you try to clench around his tongue you just know with how loose you are it doesn’t change much.

“Fuck, I didn’t know she squirts,” you hear the awe in Seonghwa’s voice and Hongjoong hums, please.

“Like I said, she’s really the perfect slut.” Hongjoong pats your head, but the praise doesn’t really register, your mind is all fuzzy from the fucking you just received, and all you do is yawn. You hear soft laughter from the two of them and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “All right, I get it. You can sleep, baby. We’ll clean you up. Just relax.”

At his sweet words, you let your head drop to his shoulder as you let him manoeuvre you so he can pick you up to bring you to a bath. You’re happy to be back.

-

As Hongjoong tucks you into bed, Seonghwa leans against the doorframe, waiting for you to finally drift off. As soon as your breathing levels, Seonghwa moves to stand by Hongjoong sitting on the bed, and he speaks up. “Beomhun asked for his money.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t get it. He broke the rules of the deal and laid his hands on my girl. The agreement was for him to scare her, not fucking hurt her.”

Seonghwa nods. “I know. He has been taken care of. Jongho and Yunho are happy to have been promoted, and I’m sure they’ll bring flowers to the funeral.”

Hongjoong chuckles, low in his throat to keep you from waking. “Good, good. It’ll be good to have some of our men higher in the police force too. Beomhun’s death was needed. But make sure she never finds out.” Seonghwa nods. “Can you go get a report from Yunho?”

Another nod. “I’ll see you later,” Seonghwa says, patting Hongjoong on the shoulder. “We’re still on for dinner, right?”

Hongjoong smiles. “Of course. Come here.” Seonghwa moves to stand between Hongjoong’s legs, much like how you did with him down in the basement. Without another word, Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m happy to have both of you back. I’ll see you later tonight. Maybe YN will be awake for dinner as well.”

Seonghwa flushes red before kissing Hongjoong once more before slipping out the door. Hongjoong turns his attention back to you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re back now, and I intend to keep it this way. No running away from me anymore,” he whispers, his fingers trailing down your face to ghost over your lips. “You’re mine, rosebud.”

[honeytonedhottie]

a glamorous well-being⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌸

i've decided to write this post to remind my audience that you're own well being comes first and just share some ways on how you can focus on ur well being in small steps that can gradually build a lifestyle.

BEAUTY SLEEP ;

go to bed at a reasonable time and wake up at a reasonable time. when ur well rested you'll feel and look your best. theres a reason why ppl call beauty sleep beauty sleep.

when u dont get enough sleep ur skin is dull, you'll start to have eyebags beneath ur eyes and can even shorten ur life span. and thats not hot.

if u feel like it'll make u more well rested, take a midday nap. if u find that u have problems sleeping, having a before bed routine that soothes u can rly help u to sleep like the angel that you are.

drink a warm cup of tea before bed

do gentle stretches

take a soothing bath or shower

DIGITAL MINIMALISM ;

we experience the fear of missing out bcuz of our habit of consuming hundreds if not thousands of unnecessary information every single day. in a way we've become information addicts.

no scroll mornings - cutting a habit completely might be hard so dont jump in with both feet immediately. go little by little.

digital declutter - intentionally cut out optional online activity and instead focus on something in person like ur community, urself and ur projects

APPRECIATING SILENCE ;

if the weather permits, i rly recommend going for walks. walking is not only good for ur body but also ur mind and getting fresh air and sunlight is rly good for u and important.

start doing guided meditations

go on daily walks to get some fresh air

JOURNALLING ;

journalling is so easy and fun and glamorous. i love the concept of journals bcuz its just such a cute way to get everything from ur mind onto paper which is helpful.

to journal with the intention of improving ur well being i recommend to get into shadow work cuz its like journal therapy. i'll link a post with shadow work prompts right here, that way you can have a place to kind of start off from.

other then simply doing shadow work journalling or maintaining a diary of sorts is also helpful for ur well being bcuz it showcases ur growth and its a great way to cultivate a sense of self without fear of judgement or privacy invasion from others.

TAKING BIG STEPS IN EASY WAYS ;

i think that the secret to overall wellness in the most glamorous way possible is a bunch of little habits that can contribute to an overall beautiful and glamorous inside and outside.

so focus on building habits before you make a huge lifestyle switch. not to confuse this with not being all in. you must be all in otherwise you'll fall back into unhealthy and old patterns for the sake of comfort.

but thats not hot, you can take baby steps while still being all in. commit to a more vibrant and more well self cuz you'll thank urself in the long run.

[ariaxco]

nobody’s coming to save you — good ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🕊️

for a long time, i waited. for motivation. for validation. for someone to notice my potential and tell me i was good enough. i kept waiting for life to get easier — but it never did. and the brutal truth? nobody’s coming to save you. nobody owes you a better life. nobody is handing out dream lives like party favors. 🩰

but here’s why that’s the best news ever:

when you stop waiting for someone to pick you, choose you, save you — you pick yourself. you become the person who shows up for herself without needing an audience. you become the girl who doesn’t beg for crumbs because she’s out there building the whole table.

waiting will kill you slowly:

waiting for the perfect moment

waiting for people to treat you right

waiting for confidence to magically appear

waiting for the fear to go away

you will rot waiting.

no one is handing you the life you dream about. you have to build it with your own two hands. you have to get up when no one is cheering. you have to keep going when the validation dries up.

you don’t need a savior. you need:

discipline that doesn’t fold when you're tired.

self respect that doesn’t shrink to fit rooms you’ve outgrown.

resilience that embarrasses the version of you who gave up too soon.

vision so clear, it burns.

no one is coming to save you — so save yourself. be so undeniable that they have no choice but to respect you. be so committed that giving up feels like betrayal. be so focused that distractions can’t even reach you.

the best thing you’ll ever do is realize: you are all you have. and you are enough.

no excuses. no permission slips. no savior complex. just you — fighting for the life you keep pretending you want. 🌷

so get up. start. stay. finish.

nobody’s coming. nobody’s supposed to. it’s your job — and you’re built for it.🕊️

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Losing my mind rn and I need to share it with someone because I stumbled on some dialouge where rudy says jokingly that if angore wants to go to prom woth him he should just ask. Like I have spent several years thinking that asgore x rudy is just a silly ship based on the whole bouquet of roses thing BUT THEN RUDY SAYS THAT??? LIKE BRO YOURE MARRIED??? Like I dont think theyre gonna get together in canon still but now im convinced that this weird semiromantic bond does indeed exist after years of denying it

It's just very intresting to me, how hometown has these vibes of a this stringent religious town without showing any of the bad things that happens in those type of towns

Like kris has the vibes of a closeted trans kid (massive sweater, not taking care of themselves, "you can wear anything you want" in the dark world) Despite diegetically kris is out and transphobia doesnt exist in hometown

Rudy's and asgore's thing really feels like how historically there were many queer and gay men with wives but still dated men in secret and how that sort of cheating would cause issues later down the line, but obviously homophobia doesn't actually exist in hometown, and rudy isn't actually cheating on his wife, yet that tension remains

Sane with alphys and undyne not being together, something about this town is just stifling despite no actual dietetic bigotry existing within it

And berdly's behaviour being very intentionally written to mirror the average misogynistic gamer (THIS IS NOT ME HATING ON HIM I LOVE HIM), he isn't actually misogynistic as the game tells us, but the vibes are intentionally there, similairly to how obsessed he is with romance and how he mistakes friendliness for romantic attraction, which is very amanormative (which is why people, myself included, headcanon him as aromantic in denial) despite us having no reason to belive that hometown is an amanormative society

Similairly the snowgrave route using so much romantic language and marriage symbolism to allude to the idea of forcing these two queer kids into a comphet marriage feels very important (not saying kriselle is a straight ship obviously, just that in the showgrave route they're being forced into cishet roles)

It's a very clever thing, I feel. It allows deltarune to discuss these problems without showing them or having them exist in the story? This allows the story to maintain its lighter tone (in the normal route) and avoids allianeting its audience. It's all just very clever use of metaphor and coding, and I like it a lot

Sorry for the ramble I originally planned to only bring up the rudy quote and leave but this ask got away from me 😔

First off anon, please do not apologise for rambling! I really dig the energy and enthusiasm, love seeing people get really animated about stuff they're into! It's great, and you're great for expressing it :)

And yeah! The whole Rudy and Asgore thing is really interesting! There does seem to be this frisson of something between them - not necessarily romantic/sexual in nature, but this sense that these two people are actually Really Important to each other in ways that can't easily be expressed by the limited ways that society at large sees love and friendship. Take the prom example - very much considered to be a thing for boys or girls to take the person they Like(romantically) to have a good time and show off and all that stuff. But take that societal expectation away, and what's to say you can't take someone you love and appreciate platonically, exhibit the deep care and commitment you have with that person to others, and just have a fun time together? And I honestly feel that both Asgore and Rudy would love to be able to do that openly. And maybe they'd hook up, maybe they'd express their love for each other physically, but that almost kind of doesn't matter when you look at it this way.

And you're entirely right, technically there's no outward stigma around these non-heteronormative displays of affection in Hometown - hell, even the central religion of the Angel doesn't have a concept of sin according to its own priest! And YET, there is still this strange shroud drawn over it all, this kind of veneer or performance of "normalcy", for lack of a better term. Or perhaps more accurately, the people of Hometown are in many ways acting in ways they feel they Ought to behave, even though everyone there's actually really chill and non-judgmental about these things (that we know of anyhow).

Berdly stands out most to me here, for two reasons - the first is, we already know he's playing up to an aspect of his character, his intelligence. But the moment that veneer's stripped from him, he immediately adopts another, playing to his supposed idiocy instead. And I feel this parallels his broader MLG-Redditor-esque personality that's been established throughout Chapter 2 - he acts that way because he FEELS like he OUGHT to act that way, based on the common popular portrayal of such people. So of Course he sees Noelle's friendship as evidence of a deeper crush she has for him, and of Course he sees Susie trying to comfort him as evidence of there being a romantic spark blossoming between them, and he says himself he's chosen Susie's route as though his life is a visual novel, because that's what the role he's playing demands of him. And as we've seen with his smart-stupid persona shift, he's not quite ready to let that performance go yet, he still needs external validation to tell him how he ought to be, rather than trusting in who he actually is, and trusting that others will accept his genuine, aromantic self. (yeah, it makes too much sense for him not to be aro at this stage, lmao)

And it's like - what if ALL of Hometown is like Berdly? What if they're just performing roles that they think other people expect them to perform, instead of trusting that they can be authentic? What if Asriel's belief that he has sinned when he sacrifices Yoshi to jump higher in the game is an extension of his performance as a Good Boy, despite the Angel's religion having no concept of sin? What if the "wink-wink nugde-nugde" gestures between Asgore and Rudy, and to a lesser extent the Royal Guards (just bros hanging out by the lake, anyone?) is not a subversion of their performance but instead a continuation of it? Like, people Know, it's Obvious to anyone who cares to look, but it's all part of the performance of "normalcy" so it gets a pass.

What if Susie performs the role of bully because it's easier than trying to be geuninely vulnerable and asking for help? And what if people don't challenge her on her behaviour not because they're scared to, but because at this point it's just what's Expected of her?

What if Noelle liking scary things (and by extension Susie) isn't a way to break free from her strict upbringing, but instead a way to let her continue being the model student and all-around good girl while having a "subversive" outlet that isn't actually all that subversive?

And what if Kris dresses down, acts weird and hides all their stuff because they've in some way grown accustomed to their role as the ""outcast"", the weird human who doesn't "belong", who was largely accepted as human and non-binary, and yet feels like they are still not quite of Hometown in the same way the monsters are?

The people of hometown seem to cling to normality like it's a life-raft or a security blanket, too afraid to let go of the roles they've agreed to perform for each other's benefit to be fully, outwardly themselves. I think people like to know that the role they play confirms their identity in the eyes of others - by being witnessed playing that role, they earn "approval" from their peers, and so they continue to play that role, iterating upon it as time goes on. Even if that role is portrayed negatively, the sense of identity one derives from it can still provide comfort and security in the face of an uncertain world. It can be scary to let that go and to try and reinvent yourself, even if the role you're playing no longer serves you like it used to.

And, continuing in this vein, what if Snowgrave is the idea of people playing these roles taken to its logical, violent endpoint, and far from being a subversion of the narrative, it's actually a warning of conforming too much to the role you're expected to play? Kris and Noelle are old friends who drifted apart but still care for each other in ways that can't easily be quantified. Even Noelle doesn't quite know how to define their relationship, and her assertion that they're friends, and the comfort she derived from that, is more relief that this nebulous Thing they have has been Quantified, put into a neat box.

But the incredibly performative nature of Snowgrave speaks to its falsehood. It's like a caricature of romance in lieu of there being any actual romantic feelings there, like kids mimicking the gestures of their parents without understanding the significance of those gestures. You make Noelle wear a ring because that's what People In A Romantic Relationship Do. You make Noelle stronger because that's What You Do in video games, but also because you're meant to Support Your Romantic Partner and Give Guidance to them - you're Helping her. You call for Noelle to help you against Spamton NEO and she comes running - because that is what you are Supposed To Do, drop everything and help out the One Person who you totally Belong to and who Belongs to you. That's Just What You Do, and you Don't Question It.

...I have gone quite a ways off-piste, it would seem! But man, you really made me think about this, and it was so fun to think about everything through this lens. Thank you so much for rambling to me, please don't ever hesitate to do so again, should the mood strike you!

(also, now I kinda want to see Rudy and Asgore curled up on the couch watching TV together and stroking each other's hair. That's the kind of energy I feel their friendship/qpr thingy would have for some reason, haha!)