#usually i avoid horror games like that but oh my god i need to play it for myself

[swagworm99]

fractured mind... fractured mind fandom where are you..

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 19 - Mike

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 18 -- Part 20

Pairing: Mike x ofc

Summary: The guys throw a New Years Eve party at 179th Crescent Street...

Warnings: Drug use (alcohol, weed), minor violence (someone gets punched), a whole lot of ADHD, Mike being Mike, probably some mentions of some inappropriate things.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Yeeting some Mikey your way just because! (I love him, your honor...) God. This chapter has a special place in my heart because a) it's Mike and b) I loved writing this. I wrote most of it in a couple of hours, and I just completely let my ADHD take the lead on it. It was awesome! (Also: Sorry for not getting creative with titles here, that would just be confusing at this point 😂)

Let me know what you think! 🥰

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos (hope you don't mind the random tag)

I hate waiting. I hate it almost as much as I hate making phone calls to our internet provider, who always refuses to accept that I’ve already figured out what the problem is. Right now, I’m doing both. It’s infuriating. ‘Mike, the internet’s down. Can you take a look at that?’ Of course I fucking can, a two year old could do that! There’s usually not even a lot I can do about it, except call someone to fix it, and anyone else could do that, too. But no. It’s gotta be me. Why does it always have to be me? 

That being said; I’d rather do this than help downstairs, and since they’ve got no idea what exactly I’m doing anyway, I can just play a game while I’m on hold. And it’s not as if I don’t profit from a working internet connection. I’m running low on movies to watch and half the shit I wanted to see has disappeared off Netflix again. I can’t help it that sometimes I need to watch every Disney movie I can remember from my childhood before my brain lets me watch anything new. And it doesn’t help that Dani refuses to watch any horror movies I haven’t seen yet, because she needs me to tell when the jumpscares are. I don’t mind - it’s cute. The way she curls up next to me with a blanket, and holds onto me when she gets scared… Makes me want to show her every scary movie I’ve ever watched. 

Fuck, I’ve got it bad for this girl. But that’s okay, I like it. Even though it’s only been a few weeks since we first went out. And only two weeks since what she thinks is the first time we went out. She’s soft and nice and she’s not just okay with the fact that sometimes I just need to get stoned to shut my brain up, but she actually got stoned with me? She’s pretty great. It’s the insecurities that sometimes get me. Like when she doesn’t trust that I actually mean what I say. I’m a heart-on-sleeve kind of guy. Oh well. 

“Hello?”

“Oh!” The phone, right. “Sorry. Hi…” As suspected; the guy on the phone doesn’t believe that what I say is wrong with my connection, is actually what’s wrong with my connection. Yes, I’ve tried turning it off and on again. Yes, everything’s plugged in where it should be plugged in. Yes, right passwords and whatnot. It’s really not one of those, dude, I ran basic diagnostics. Thanks. Why do I even still do that beforehand? Right, because if it is one of those, I won’t have to call to begin with, and I’ll do anything to avoid that.

“It can take a few min…”

“Dude, I’m so sorry to interrupt.” I really don’t have the patience for this. “I’ve tried all of this before I even picked up the phone…” Although I could have gotten everything done in the time I was on hold. “I’m telling you…” Finally, he agrees to put me through to someone who actually knows anything about the technical side of things. Great. 

“Internet is up again,” I announce to the full - and excruciatingly busy - kitchen. I’m just in time to see Leon toss a bag of weed on the table. “Nice.” Wait, I was trying to think that… 

“I knew there was a reason we kept him around.” Charles. It hurts when he hits the bone in my shoulder, but I’m fairly sure it hurts him more, even though there’s nothing on his face that reveals that little grain of truth. 

“Yeah, it would be so awful if you couldn’t watch porn for one night.” Why is the word ‘porn’ so hot out of the mouth of my girlfriend? Wait. I’ve been saying ‘girlfriend’. Is it too soon to call her my girlfriend? Oh, what gives. She’s hugging me, I like it, and I’m going to be sad when she stops, that’s all that matters. Something Charles says about not needing any porn tonight registers vaguely, but I do catch the way he winks at Dani. What a dick. 

“Think you can still get laid with a broken nose and a black eye, Brandon?” It’s entirely unlikely I can take him on my own, but I feel I can count on some support from Geralt - or even better… Sol. She’s fierce - and she’s the only one who’s ever hit Charles in the nuts. We all applaud her for that a little. Dani’s arms tighten around me. I don’t look away from Charles, I just pull her closer to me. When I finally do look down at her. She’s biting her lip, looking adorable. I can’t help but kiss her. Maybe it’s a little much, considering we’re in public. Maybe I’m just shamelessly marking territory here. I can’t say I care much right now. 

“Where’s Sherlock?” Lucky bastard is upstairs, not getting mixed up in all of this. I was almost just as lucky, yet here I am. 

“In his room,” I say, “he wouldn’t last five minutes tonight if he had to deal with all of this, too.” Neither would I, so I’m glad I skipped most of it. But not enough. Dani puts her hands on the sides of my face. Fuck, I’m clenching my jaw - so hard she noticed, apparently. 

“Relax,” she whispers softly. I have no clue how long we’ve been standing there. I’d say it’s gotta be a while, but I’ve been wrong before. 

“We’ve got it from here,” Geralt says. He jerks his head in the direction of the door. That means ‘Mikey, get out’, but in the nice way. You can’t grow up as me and not pick up on these things, honestly. 

Taking a walk with Dani beats taking a walk without Dani. Facts. There’s one little thing though. She’s slow… -er than me, I should say. I could walk circles around her, I really could. 

“I’m not fast enough for you, am I?” How does she always know? I smile apologetically. And I really do feel bad about it! I swear! My eyes flutter over her body - that always wreaks havoc on my brain. It goes: nice, nice, nice, nice, very nice, wish she’d turn around, nice, nice, she’s smiling, cute, mine, what was I thinking about? I was trying to get some form of… Right!

“Come here,” I say, “climb on.” 

“Mike, there’s no way you can carry me,” she laughs. I love to see her laugh. It’s fucking amazing, the way she laughs. That’s kinda what made me fall in love with her on pretty much the very first day of the year. And then it took me like fifteen weeks to ask her out. Which, honestly… not a great move. Ange actually had to stop me from deleting the text I wrote to ask her out for the thirteenth time - yes, I counted them. Come to think of it, I should probably thank her for that one of these days. Where was I? Right.

“Yeah, I can, come on!” I’m not gonna be much faster with her on my back, but I’m gonna be able to tire myself out, and that’s kinda the point. And I get to touch her. Definite bonus. You’d think - I know I did - that her touching me would be a bonus, too, but it’s very distracting. Because she’s trying very hard to distract me. 

She’s spent enough time in class with me, you’d think, to know that distracting me isn’t exactly an Olympic level sport. Anyone can do that. Squirrels can do that. Leaves can do that. Those little tiny bits of dust that you can see float through the air when it’s spring and there’s sunlight streaming in through a window, and it’s nice and warm and you’re inside, but you really don’t want to be inside, so you look at those little dust-thingies move and you’re really curious how it would feel to just float down, and you spend a little too much time breathing in their direction to make them move, until your teacher notices and asks what the fuck you are doing and you also don’t know the answer to the question they’re asking, so they tell you you’re not paying attention, but is it really your fault, because you’re just not made to sit still on a chair for hours on end, but no, it’s your problem and they tell you to leave the room because you’re disturbing the class when you were really just wondering what it would feel like to be dust and nothing was the matter and you weren’t disturbing anyone until they called you out on not paying attention for a tiny little bit? Mike, focus. Right. 

Oh no. Focus just takes me back to her hands. They aren’t the problem, but they kinda make me wish they were. The problem is the fact that she won’t stop kissing my neck, and every last one of those kisses is kinda altering the fit of my jeans, if you catch my drift. Fuck. 

“Babe, stop.” Of course she doesn’t. Cue adorable noise of sadness. Fine. She wants to play? I’ll play. There’s a few trees nearby, and I walk her straight across the grass to get to one. She thinks I can’t carry her? She’s gonna have to think again. I pull one of her legs to my other hip. 

“Mikey!” she shrieks, but she can’t help but let go of my neck. This is only going to be impressive if I don’t drop her - that would be kinda sad. “What are you doing, you idiot? Oh.” I’m a little proud of myself that I actually managed to do this, and a lot happy to see her pinned against this tree, with her legs wrapped around my waist. 

“Kiss?” I ask. I’d tell myself I have to stop grinning like an idiot, except, no I fucking don’t. She pulls me in - hell yeah! - and kisses me. It’s great when she does that. Her lips honestly feel so amazing. But the tip of her nose is cold against my cheek. Oh, fuck, she moves her hips, and they’re kinda directly over mine. Goddamn, feels good. No, no, why does she stop kissing me? That’s not good.

“Aw, baby.” She presses her lips to my neck again, and I feel her tongue on my skin. Every move makes me grind my hips into her, and she’s moaning softly against my skin every time I do. The sound makes my cock twitch, and that’s of no use to me, because I can’t exactly have her right now, which means this was - all things considered - a fairly terrible idea by yours truly. It really doesn’t help that I’m holding her up with two hands firmly on her ass, either. It’s so squeezable. Soft. I’m really not helping this whole pants-situation. Ehh, I’ll sort that out later. That’s what math is for, right? Right now, I just want to keep kissing my girl.

“Mikey,” she moans against my lips. I know she’s trying to speak, but her lips feel good and they’re soft and warm and I don’t want to stop… “Mikey, stop.” Ok. I freeze, and slowly move away. 

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she says. Good, she’s still laughing. That makes me happy. “Let’s get back?” I like that idea. But she shouldn’t think I’m done with her, because I’m not. 

 

“Listen.” That’s Marshall. He’s been dealing with something, and I don’t think any of us have bothered to ask what it is. Not that he’d have answered, we know him well enough by now. “You’re not the only people on the planet. Get a fucking room.” Okay. So it’s about a girl, otherwise he wouldn’t care. I’m not going to scream at him, because that would involve taking my mouth off… Hey! I have to glare at him now. A second ago, I was making out with Dani, now I’m not. This is a problem.

“Marshall,” she says, “go find yourself someone to suck your dick, and leave us alone.” Let me try not to laugh at that. Marshall seems plenty ticked off about it, which adds to how funny I find all of this, to be completely honest. I’m not gonna laugh, I’m not gonna laugh… I mean, at least he backs off? My thoughts are still all over the place. I was going to just pretend they aren’t, but Dani points it out. Not in a ‘Mike, stop being so fucking annoying’ kind of way, but in a sweet, caring ‘anything we need to take care of to make it better’ kind of way, and… I know it’s way too soon to say something way too affectionate, but I’m really having trouble keeping my mouth shut. 

“Herbal remedy?” she offers with a sly smile. Fucking marry me. Don’t say that out loud! We walk to the living room, looking for a place to sit down for a second. From the corner of my eye, I notice Dani makes some gesture at Marshall, who is talking to some girl - I don’t know her. Judging from the reflection in the window, she’s sticking her tongue in her cheek. I try not to laugh - again. This is a horrible night for me. I can’t laugh at anything, dammit. 

I sit down and pull Dani into my lap, but she gets up immediately. 

“My roommates are here,” she says. I’ve never met them, but I’ve heard some things about them. For one, I know Sloane is going to be majorly disappointed when she sees she’s already too late to get something going with Sy. I don’t know why she’s after him - possibly because Dani’s review was good. Is it insecure of me to question whether she thinks he’s better in bed than I am? I mean, she isn’t complaining, but we’re a long way from keeping the whole house awake like Geralt and Sol do on occasion. Oh well. 

“Mike!” Hand in front of eyes, waving. Hand. Waving. OH! My head snaps up, and I remember just in time the bag of stuff I’m holding isn’t closed. 

“Second,” I say, closing it before getting up. “Hi!” Sloane and Ariel don’t seem impressed, and honestly, who can blame them. I didn’t notice they were there for the first few seconds they were standing right in front of me. They introduce themselves, and Dani kinda quickly leads them away again to introduce them to the rest of the guys. It takes a while before she comes back, and she stands next to me while I roll a joint. I just keep working. I hope she knows I’m not ignoring her. When her hand brushes past my cheek, I lean into her touch. After some time, I hear a little bit of a tussle next to me, but if I look up now, this is never getting done. Just a few more seconds and... Done! I put everything back in my pockets and look up just in time to see Charles get real mad.   

“I think it’s time to get the fuck out of here,” he says before taking a swing at some guy I don’t recognize. Dani! Don’t ask me how, but I can hear her breathing, it stands out from all the other sounds all the other people are making, even though the room has gone eerily quiet due to this scuffle. I turn my head to her so fast my neck protests, but big fucking deal. 

“Hey…” I get up and pull her into my arms. She’s upset, but I didn’t see what happened. Fuck. “Come here.”

“Are you alright, Dani?” Charles asks without looking away from the guy, who seems to decide it’s probably for the best if he just fucks off. I can see Ariel standing across the room; she’s next to Leon, and she’s glaring at me. Fuck, I’m not making a great impression here. Sy calls for everyone to mind their own business, and the fact that everyone stops staring relaxes me a little. But only a little. 

“Wanna go outside?” Dani asks. I can tell she’s upset, and it’s fucked up that she’s taking care of me right now instead of the other way around. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?” I hope my eyes apologize enough for now, because I can’t bring myself to say ‘sorry I’m a terrible boyfriend’ out loud in a room filled with people I barely know. 

“Actually, I could really use some of that joint right now,” she says. Apparently, she doesn’t want to talk in a room full of people, either. 

It’s quieter outside, and I feel like I can finally think straight. We’re not the only people there, but the ones who are there - August, Anjelica, Sol and Geralt - are good company. With the same idea I had, apparently. Except no one is smoking. 

“Did you guys step outside when you saw me leave the living room?” I ask. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and they’re not too proud to just admit to it, either. “For fuck’s sake, I’ll roll another one, here.” I hand the joint in my pocket to Dani and sit down at the only slightly wonky table to get to work on the next one. 

“Thanks, Mikey.” Dear, sweet Angie. I love her to bits, we all do. Infinite bonus points to her for keeping August’s head level, too, there’s not a lot of people who can do that. 

“Are you almost done?” Dani’s voice is shaky - and so is the rest of her. It’s cold, but it’s not that kind of trembling, I can tell. I finish what I’m doing, hand the product of my hard work to Geralt and pull her into my lap. 

“What happened, Dani?” Ange again. She’s so sweet. If August ever breaks up with her, I’m fairly sure none of us will look at him for a while. 

“Just some guy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Fuck! That’s what I missed? Maybe I’m really not made for this relationship stuff, if I can’t even… Best I can do is hold her right now, I guess. 

“Shit, you took care of that?” August asks me, forcing me to tell him it was Charles who ended up kicking him out. No one says anything. No questions, no ‘why not you?’ They understand. But does she? Her friend Ariel clearly didn’t. Everyone stays quiet for a bit, which is kinda nice. 

“Anything I can do for you, baby?” No need to get creative in a situation like this one, right? She shakes her head and snuggles up closer. “Hold me,” she says to me, “and get me some of that.” August sees her pointing at him and he hands her the joint. It’s surprising, but he’s a lightweight when it comes to pot. He can drink like no tomorrow, though, and I can see he’s holding a glass of whatever. He hasn’t had enough to be all over Ange yet. Shame, they’re cute when they get all clingy. Geralt and Solveig haven’t had the courage to let go of each other just yet. Seeing Geralt like this sure beats seeing him the week after Sol leaves - or the week after he comes back from seeing her. Not that he gets particularly annoying or anything. Just sighs a lot. 

A few minutes go by, and we’re still not talking. Most of us came here for some peace and quiet, anyway. Ange is a chatterbox, but she’s had a bad week. August probably took care of the worst part before they even got here. I wonder if she can even sit comfortably. Alright, I can't make myself laugh right now, they're gonna ask what I'm thinking. Moving on… Sol prefers to be in quieter places, Geralt is going insane with all the chatter inside when he’s standing out here, let alone when he’s in the middle of it, and August just doesn’t like people. I can figure that out about these guys in a heartbeat, but I can’t tell when my own girlfriend is being harassed. Honestly, it feels pretty fucking terrible. 

My brain slows down unusually fast. It’s nice, finally some genuine quiet. Dani melts into me, which is awesome. She’s warm, she’s soft, she’s great. Oh, and she smells nice. August and Angie are getting inappropriately touchy, which just makes me laugh. I honestly couldn’t give a damn. They’re great together, and I love seeing people happy and in love. Same goes for Sol and Geralt. Like, who cares if they keep the whole house up all night every once in a while? Why the hell should I be mad that they’re having great sex? Little jealous, maybe… Dani puts her head on my shoulder, and I lean my cheek against her hair. Deep sigh. I used to think it wasn’t for me. I’m still not completely sure I can do it. But fuck, I’m gonna try. I want what they have. Love. Who knows, maybe I’ve already found it?

[crypticjackal13]

hi I have seen like requests from other people and I loved how you wrote them so I was gonna request a Romance and fluff request of Nezha macaque and sun wukong x transmac chubby Neko reader like reader loves to cuddle and playing video games like cute games/horror games plus they dress with cute femboy clothes as one day they're like listening to the music of the Amen from Amber run and like the guys find them singing and there watching them watching the stars and seeing them singing their heart out as they finished they start tearing up because of a memory they had of their best friend from childhood because they died from cancer and they saw them die on the hospital bed as they saw them cry they come out of their hiding place and come to comfort them

Ps: because this has happened to me and wanted comfort from my comfort character

Nezha, Macaque, and SWK x ftm!reader Headcanons (romantic/comfort, but this is on the heavier side)

Pronouns: he/him

CW: mentions of grief/grieving

Nezha

Oh sweet boy. Though Nezha could never truly understand what you’re going through, he does his best to help you. He’s normally uptight about your affections unless you two are alone, but he puts his pride aside for this. Lots of head pats and forehead kisses for you if you don’t mind them. The night he finds you singing so sadly after you went to see your friend at the hospital, he’s really torn. Should he interrupt you and comfort you? Should he wait? Either way, your voice on its own almost brings him to tears. He ends up waiting and then, very quietly, coming to sit by your side. He sits with you while you cry it out for as long as you need. To help distract you, he might even ask you to teach him to play your favorite video games. But if you want to work through your feelings head on he’s more than happy to help you.

SWK

Feels terrible. He’s seen all kinds of loss in his lifetime, but to see his normally chippy lover in so much pain breaks his heart. He still puts up his usual front of being happy and worry-free, but it’s all in an effort to try and help you smile again. He’s already super affectionate with you, but now even more so. He knows he can’t undo anything but by the gods he’s gonna help you through the grieving process. Loves your voice, but when he hears you singing not for joy but for tragedy, he struggles not to ugly cry. You finish your song and he takes his spot at your side, not saying a word. Wukong reaches out, and if you’ll allow him to, he holds you so tight because he knows it hurts like hell. He doesn’t really know how to truly process anything harsh like this, but he’s very good at distraction. Tell him about anything you want, show him your favorite games, let him take you shopping for those cute clothes you like. He’s with you for every step of the way.

Macaque

First of all, Know that this man would do ANYTHING for you once you two are in a stable relationship. He’s a little stiff about affection at first, but you’re so cute that he can't resist warming up to you. He hides in your shadow a lot, just to hang out, but this time it’s different. You’re sitting on the ground, singing your heart out, and he assumes the worst considering the last he knew you were visiting your friend in the hospital. After you’re done, and start crying a little, he pops out of your shadow to comfort you. He cuddles up to you, even lets you wear his scarf, and gives you tissues as you let it all out. Macaque doesn’t mind joining you on any path you want to take from this point. As long as you’re not hurting yourself, of course. If you want to really grieve, he’ll offer up his shoulder to cry on and his favorite meditations to help. If you’d prefer to just…avoid things, for a while, then he’s happy to take you anywhere you want to go. Just say the word and he’ll be there.

[fireheartedpup]

for the ask game (i like asking questions :3) - papyrus (first song from your most played playlist + what memories does it hold) - aloe vera (something mundane you want to experience) - jasmine (media you love but won't revisit)

I love questions! Thank you!

Papyrus- Six Shooter by Coyote Kisses. I haven't known about it long enough to make a lot of memories, but I kind of think of Karlach when I hear it. I, uh, put it on my doo wop bop bop it's time to get objectified playlist.

You know, for songs like Brick House and Are You Gonna Be My Girl and that Daisy Dukes song. The sort of songs that are popular because they have a nice sound and beat, but are objectively kind of terrible.

This one is actually a lot better than the rest, it's just "She knows how to get past my defenses and oh my god she's hot."

I just decided to let go of whether or not I approve of songs and lean into enjoying the beat, because I would lose like half of my enjoyment in life if I tried to avoid every song that makes me a little uncomfortable. I'm waffling on whether I want to keep My Sharona on the list though, the pedophilia is a bit much for me.

...this is the kind of take that could get me canceled, isn't it.

Aloe vera- I want to be able to afford to go try the restaurants in my area again. We have so much here that I don't get to experience. I want to go for more walks and check out the hiking trails. I want to be able to travel. I want to look outside and see life instead of walls.

Jasmine- I might need to think on this one, I feel like there's an obvious answer that's eluding me right now?

I'm not sure I would say I wouldn't revisit Bastard! or Sweet Home, but they're horror and they had me jumping at shadows. It's like... hope punk, almost? Hope in spite of the horror? This is more, this is an excellent piece of media that should be regarded as a standout in its genre. I am afraid to recommend it.

I PLAN on revisiting Fullmetal Alchemist. I never got through the entire series. It's just that... some of the subject matter is so heavy, I don't really want to watch it.

Ironic, given my first paragraph. I think it's one of the best anime/manga series of all time. There's basically no comparing it to anything else.

Also, Where the Redfern Grows is my favorite book. I usually HATE books with animal death, but it gave me a sense of closure that I haven't really seen before or since. I don't know if I ever want to revisit it. It's been years, I'm thinking about it.

Also sometimes I have to do this with mobile games when I start obsessing. Goodbye, tetris/puzzle knockoff. I would love to keep playing you, but you make me cerifiably insane.

[halloweennut]

one of the prompts from @fanfic-inator795 (thanks bestie)

Raph taking Casey Jr. to Teddy Bear Town (since I doubt they had teddies in the apocalypse)

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Casey said slowly. “We aren’t going on patrol.”

“Nope!” Raph said. “Heads up - our stop is next.”

The fellow passengers on the subway didn’t seem to notice or care that they were sitting next to a teen in modified hockey gear or a giant teenage turtle in disguise. It was midday in the city after all, and there was never such a thing as a normal subway car. As long as they weren’t being a nuisance, no one really cared. The speaker system alerted them to the stop with it’s chime and standard ‘stand clear of the closing doors,’ and Raph led Casey through the small sea of people entering and exiting the train. 

“So what exactly are we doing?” he asked, following him down the platform and up the steps. “Are we running errands or something?”

“Sorta,” Raph said. “When you were talkin’ about how things were in your future, you said you didn’t have much in th’ way of toys or stuff.”

“I mean, I had a tetris cube,” Casey countered. “I uh...I didn’t finish it.”

“Yeah but I’m not countin’ that. I mean like...beyblades, legos, that kinda thing, y’know?” Raph looked across the street before continuing against the traffic with all the ease of a seasoned New Yorker. “Like, we all grew up with that stuff, and it’s not fair you didn’t.”

“I’m sixteen, I think I might be a little too old for this stuff-” Casey argued, running the last few steps to the next block to avoid a taxi. Raph turned to him.

“Never say that again. Trust me. I have stuff like this that makes me happy, so do the rest of the team,” Raph poked him in the chest. “Leo has his comics, Donnie has video games, and Mikey has whatever makes him happy in whatever given moment. He’s a magpie like that - after a life of verifiable BS, you deserve something too.” 

“Oh...fair enough,” Casey replied. He hadn’t really considered that. Resources were scare back in his timeline, and if by some miracle a toy survived, he was usually the first to give it to someone else. “So what makes you happy?”

“I like knitting,” Raph smiled. “And teddy bears.”

“Teddy bears?”

“Yep. Got a problem with it?”

“No, not at all. But uh...what is a teddy bear?” Casey asked. Raph looked at him, positively stricken in horror. 

“Oh, oh my god,” he replied, quickly turning down another street. “Okay, forget F.A.O. Schwartz - we can go there another day. I am morally bound to fix this. We’re going to Teddy Bear Town.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Raph!”

“They’re joy in a small, soft, stuffed bear.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“You will, sweet summer child, you will.”

“I was born in winter.” 

“We have so much to catch you up on.”

Raph pulled Casey to a stop in front of a gold and blue sign reading “Teddy Bear Town” in bright red letters. The windows were full of stuffed animals dressed in various costumes, all posed to look like they were playing or moving. It was, for lack of a better word, very cute. Casey could remember Raph when he was child, just barely, but he could recall that despite his size and teeth, the red turtle had always been gentle. It made sense that even now he still had that softness, he just didn’t need to hide it or shove it down in the face of war. 

The inside was just as cute and cuddly. Bins lined the walls of stuffing-less shells, animal faces still smiling up. Various stations followed, then walls of costumes. Raph directed him to the bins. “First, you pick a shell, then you go fill it at the station, then you pick an outfit.”

“Seems like a lot of work for a toy,” Casey said, picking up a random frog. 

“That’s part of the fun! The act of creation and shit,” Raph said, looking at the frog shell. “Me, I prefer a classic bear. I can’t say you seem like a frog guy.”

Casey shook his head. Raph scanned the bins quickly before finding the one he was looking for. He picked up and held out a soft, light brown bear shell. “Here, can’t beat a classic!”

He held the shell in his hands, stroking one of the paws with his thumb. The fur and velvet paw pads were soft, more soft than anything he could remember. Casey nodded. “Yeah, this is good.” 

Raph helped him through the rest of the process, and despite his reservations, Casey actually felt...at ease. Happy, even, and he couldn’t stop a grin through all the silliness of stuffing the bear with a heart and all of that. Surprise to none, Casey immediately chose a hockey player outfit, complete with skates and a hockey stick. 

“Beats patrol, huh?” Raph asked as they left. 

“Honestly? Yeah,” Casey replied, clutching the box holding his bear. “I honestly can’t remember ever being able to do this.”

Raph wasn’t surprised. Casey hadn’t really been able to a kid, and this was the least he could have done to remedy that. “We have a few hours to kill before actual patrol, let’s grab some pizza and go bum in the arcade - whaddya say?”

“That sounds...really nice.”

[voiceless-terror]

Jon wears a leather jacket to work. No one is immune.

Jon’s running late.

He doesn’t often run late. Ever since he got the promotion, he’s been working overtime- coming in early, staying late, sometimes not leaving at all. He had a mess on his hands, and its one he intends to fix.

So while it’s been some time since he’s seen Rosie at the front desk, it isn’t enough for her to do a double take. But that she does, her usually stoic face going red and her eyes widening in what looks like shock. That’s a bit dramatic.

“O-Oh!” She’s stuttering. Rosie never stutters. “G-Good morning, Jon. You look- you’re looking very nice today!” 

That can’t be true. He slept through his alarm, something he hasn’t done in ages. He didn’t have time to comb his hair and decided to leave it in the messy bun from yesterday- at least it’s out of his way. He skipped shaving altogether and couldn’t find his usual cardigan, instead resorting to an old, beat up leather jacket from college. It’s seen better days, and it reeks of guilty cigarettes snuck in his most desperate hours. The picture of professionalism he is not.

“Um, okay,” is the only response he can think of giving, scurrying past her desk and down to the basement. He doesn’t have time to parse that interaction out, not when his assistants are probably already gathered round, gossiping about his absence. Sure enough Tim’s sitting on Sasha’s desk, smirking and whispering something as he walks through the door, keeping his head down with a grumbled “Good morning.”

The chatter instantly stops. He hazards a glance to find Tim and Sasha, open-mouthed and staring in what can only be horror or fear. He was never any good at reading people. 

“Good Lord,” Tim whispers, borrowing a phrase from Jon’s book. It sounds odd coming from his mouth, and even stranger in that soft tone. Tim’s deafening on a good day, and Jon’s never seen his golden skin turn quite so red. 

“Good morning, Jon,” Sasha’s smirking, her voice turning velvety and smooth. He’s heard her use that tone in bars when she wants another round for the table. Never in the Archives. And never once has it been aimed at him. Jon bristles.

“What is going on?” he asks impatiently, running a hand through messy hair. He could swear Tim gulps. “Do I have something on my-”

He’s interrupted by a loud, high-pitched squeal, followed by the shattering sound of two mugs full of hot tea hitting the tile. He jumps back to avoid the mess, scowling at the man in front of him. Martin looks like he’s having a coronary; Jon wasn’t aware faces could turn that red. And he, too, is staring. 

“I’m late, I don’t have time for this,” he says, side-stepping the spreading puddle and throwing a scowl at Martin’s gaping face. “Clean this up.” He walks away to sputtered apologies and a snicker from Sasha. What’s gotten into them today?

He shuts the door with a decisive click, should anyone think of bothering him.

_________

And not an hour later, someone does.

He answers Martin’s tentative knock with a curt “Come in.” Martin’s looking at his feet as he shuffles in with a cup of tea, his face only slightly less red. He stands as far away as possible when he deposits it on his desk, refusing to meet Jon’s eyes and likely not seeing his nod of thanks. But instead of leaving, he just stands there.

“Do you need something?” Martin jumps at his voice, raising his eyes minutely before lowering them again. What in the world…?

“Y-Your jacket.” He flushes again and Jon’s starting to think he should really see a doctor about that. “You’re still wearing it.”

He is. He hadn’t given it much thought; it’s cold down in the Archives, and sometimes he’ll go all day with a jacket or cardigan over his shoulders. Still, Martin’s right- it doesn’t look very professional. He starts to shrug out of it when Martin throws his hands out in front of him, like Jon’s about to cut the wrong wire on a bomb.

“N-No!” His voice comes out high and strangled. It’s very irritating. “Don’t!”

“What on earth is going on with you-”

“It’s just- you shouldn’t! Not if you’re cold.” Martin gives him a weak smile that Jon doesn’t return. “Wouldn’t want you to get s-sick or something!” 

Jon stares. “Please leave.”

“O-Okay.” Martin backs out of the room. Jon keeps the jacket on.

It is cold.

_______

Thirty minutes later, Sasha comes in with a file he doesn’t need. She lingers with some inane chatter which is very much unlike her, and her phone’s positioned awkwardly in front of her. If Jon didn’t know any better, he’d think she was taking a photo.

The last straw comes when Tim leans in the doorway, a leer on his face. That always means trouble.

“Come to drop off an unnecessary document?” he snarks, slamming a book closed. He’s tired of this game they’re playing. “Maybe finish whatever strange prank you’ve got planned? You know I don’t have time for-”

“Boss.” Tim’s face goes serious, an alarming sign for him. “I have to tell you something. And I promise I’m not making fun of you or anything. I know where your mind goes.”

Jon rolls his eyes at the dramatics. “If you insist-”

“Jon.” Tim comes closer and Jon subconsciously shifts back in his chair. “Objectively, this is the hottest you’ve ever looked.”

What?

Tim raises a finger. “Don’t give me that. I mean, did you look in the mirror today?”

Well, that’s a bit uncalled for. Jon knows he looks a bit scruffy, but this teasing has got to stop. He’s starting to feel a bit insulted. “Tim-”

“You look good. You look dangerous.”

“That’s not a compliment-!”

“Like you ride a motorcycle,” Tim continues, inching closer. His eyes are staring intently into Jon’s, but it seems like he’s lost in his own little world. “Or maybe you’re in a gang, or an underground syndicate. You’ve got a rough past but really, a heart of gold.” Perhaps Tim’s drunk. Or on drugs. He could be on drugs. It’s the only thing that would explain whatever the hell...this is.

“I meet you at a bar,” Tim’s sat down now, right in front of Jon’s desk. Instead of throwing his legs over the side of the chair he leans forward on his knees, still with that disconcerting eye contact. “You’ve stepped out for a smoke.” Oh God, can he smell it? “I’ve had a few too many. You say ‘Got a light?’ in a dark, husky voice.”

“Husky?”

“I nod, flicking my lighter on and raising the flame to your cigarette. You look me directly in the eyes as you inhale-” At this Tim does his own little breathy intake, a finger to his lips as if he’s putting on a one-man show. And Jon- well, Jon’s not immune.

Tim sighs, leaning back in his seat and letting his hands fall back into his lap. “And the rest? Is history.” He takes a moment to recover, blinking slowly. Jon stares.

“What I mean to say is-” Suddenly Tim’s back again, as if the previous minute had never happened. “-do you want to get a drink later?”

What the fuck?

Jon opens his mouth but then pauses, considers. It’s been a week. He’s tired, at the end of his rope. And maybe-

Maybe he misses Tim. Just a little. They did used to have fun, sometimes. Before all of this. Back when they were friends.

“Okay.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

“I’ll come,” Jon agrees, though the rational part of him wants to take it back. But Tim’s in front of him-ridiculous, charming, idiotic Tim- and how can he resist? “But I don’t smoke anymore, so I’m afraid I can’t quite live up to your fantasies.” Tim barks out a laugh and Jon finds himself smiling back, his face growing warm. 

Perhaps he should wear this thing more often.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491015

[navegandoaciegas]

Crybaby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader (College AU)

Warnings: smut, ass fingering, orgasm denial, humiliation, lots of talks about panties.

Summary: You catch Bucky trying to steal your panties on laundry day.

A/N: this is partly @buckycuddlebuddy​ ‘s fault tbh. Enjoy some desperate, horny Bucky. Minors DNI.

The timer on the dryer unit you’d occupied went off, signaling that your weekly load of laundry was dry and ready. Bucky cast a nervous glance around the eerily empty room, fingers twitching in the front pocket of his hoodie.

He knew it was wrong, but his laundry was done too (just a coincidence, really, not like he’d wake up at 3 am on a Monday because he knew you did your washing around that time), and you weren’t there yet. You usually retrieved your load in the morning anyways.

Just a peek, he reasoned. Out of curiosity. You wouldn’t even realize they were missing, and if you did you’d chalk it up to the washing machine eating your clothes.

You’d show up to class on Tuesday and sit next to him while he’d be wearing your pretty lace panties and you’d be none the wiser.

Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

He dug in your laundry, sifting through mascara stained washcloths and an endless amount of oversized t-shirts, until he found what he’d been looking for.

Small, so tiny in fact that he wondered how your lips could fit in them. He groaned -the idea of your pussy hanging out of the material made his cock twitch, and brought the panties to his face, rubbing his nose all over the lace. He’d fantasized of burying his face between your legs all semester long, and this seemed close enough, the closest he could get to you anyways.

They seemed stretchy, and he hoped he could manage to stuff himself inside them.

“Didn’t peg you for a panty sniffer, Barnes.”

The world stilled around him, the ring in his ears so loud that he wondered if you could hear it too.

He was so engrossed in his creeping, that he hadn’t heard the door open and click shut, nor your steps as you walked behind him, or the slight groan that the washing machine behind him emitted when you settled on it, swinging your legs.

Slowly, he turned around, your lace panties still tightly clutched to his chest.

You almost chuckled at the sight of his bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Almost.

“That- it’s not- not how it looks like- I-”

“What, you were gonna fold my laundry for me? How considerate,” you sneered, but the look on your face was far from disgust.

Derision, sure, but not disgust. The mischievous interest in your eyes sent chills down his spine, not necessarily the good kind.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, anticipating whatever consequence his actions would have.

“You do this often?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, naked legs still swinging over the washing machine.

Bucky couldn’t find the words, and honestly the gall, to speak, so he just shook his head vehemently, shuffling on his feet.

“Hm, you like sniffing ‘em?”

He remained unmoving, too humiliated to do anything.

“Oh, I got it,” you beamed, pointing a finger at him and squinting your eyes, “You like touching yourself with pretty panties, hm? Like using them to fuck your dick, and cum all over ‘em?”

He wanted to answer, tell you to fuck off and sprint away to hide in his dorm for the rest of his life, but honestly he deserved this and so much worse. He almost considered dropping out of college entirely, but that glint in your eyes kept him anchored to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on his white sneakers, “I-, I promise, I never done it before, I don’t know why-, look I won’t do it again, I swear,” he pleaded, tears pooling in his crystal eyes and threatening to stream down his face.

You cooed, honest to God coeed, a mocking pout on your lips.

You should have left, and reported him, but those pretty tears of his, the tremble in his voice, the stuttered pleas, only served to spur you on, a familiar warmth building up in your core.

“I bet if word got out of this, no one would want to hang around the resident creep anymore. Good luck getting girls then. Although, well, I don’t think you get too many under normal circumstances, do you?” you snorted, “That would be embarrassing, hm? Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He found himself shaking his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat to avoid giving you any more reason to mock him.

“It’s your lucky day then, because I have no intention to tell anyone,” you announced, stepping down to lean against the machine, arms crossed over your stomach.

“You- you don’t?” he wondered.

The notion should have elated him, but he felt himself growing more uneasy and confused with the smirk on your face.

“Won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Cross my heart,” you laughed, making a show of placing a hand on your chest.

He eyed you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Where’s the fun in that, Barnes? I wouldn’t enjoy bullying you if I’m not the only one doing it,” you chirped, “That doesn’t mean that my forgiveness should come for free, tho.”

His breath hitched, and you followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his throat.

You could feel the control in your grasp, panties getting wetter with each one of his tears.

“I’ll do anything,” he swore, and you almost wished he’d fall on his knees and beg.

“Anything you say, huh?” you paused, “Strip,” you commanded, leaning back against the washing machine.

Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up in confusion, then disbelief, finally embarrassment. “Wh- what? But, but what if someone sees, I-”

“Then you better hurry.”

“But I-”

“You fuckin’ heard me the first time.”

He was startled into action, hands hastily pulling at his hoodie and jeans until he was standing in nothing but socks and underwear.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself again.”

He gulped visibly, and hesitated before hooking his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs.

He blushed harder, ducking his head.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, and the mouthwatering sight of it had you reconsidering Bucky Barnes and all your life choices during this semester.

He was glistening in pre cum, painfully hard and veiny, and definitely thick enough that fitting it inside your cunt would be hard work on both parts. You imagined taking him in your mouth, how you would definitely choke around his girth, and your jaw would be sore for days.

Not today, though. Bad boys did not get that kind of privilege.

You bit your lips, and Bucky fought the impulse to squirm under your intense gaze.

“Something wrong?” he rasped out, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole in case you found him too small, too crooked, too hairy.

You snorted, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Yeah, babe, the fact that I haven’t seen you naked before. You been hiding all this,” you eyed his crotch suggestively, “from me all this time?”

“T- thanks,” he stuttered, offering you a small smile, eyes trained on the ground. He tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered when you called him an endearing term, reminding himself that this was all a game to you, a game that he was more than willing to play if it ended up with his cock buried deep inside you.

You sighed then, pondering your thoughts. He was not your usual type, but he was cute in a nerdy way, shy and quiet, and he was packing more than any other man you’d had before.

Plus, this was way too entertaining for you to pass up.

“Wear ‘em.”

Bucky’s head snapped up at the command, but this time he did not hesitate to follow your instructions, a bit too eager as he slid the panties up his thighs.

The shutter of your phone’s camera brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw you take pictures of him. He trusted you wouldn’t spread them around, but the thrill of danger had him leak more pre cum, wetting a patch on the lace.

“So that’s your deal? You like wearing panties? Didn’t even try to act like you didn’t want to,” you snickered, “What a whore.”

The situation couldn’t get more humiliating, and he couldn’t get more desperate for you.

“Be a good boy, Bucky. Fold the laundry for me, since that’s clearly what you meant to do,” you laughed scornfully, nodding to the basket at your feet.

He walked to you slowly, bending over to pick it up, and yelped when you slapped his ass harshly, the sound bouncing off the walls and shooting straight to his aching cock.

“Cute. Now go, you got something to do and I don’t have all night.”

He sighed, and got to work, unloading each item from the dryer, and folding it neatly.

You eyed the lines of his back, the round globes of his ass, the string of your thong dipping between his cheeks. You almost lost yourself imagining how pretty he would look all scratched and marked before you furrowed your brows, observing the way he folded on of your nicer shirts that you wore on interviews and internships.

“Can’t even fold laundry, look at you,” you tsked, shaking your head, “Try that again, I don’t want to spend more than necessary ironing it.”

He obeyed, without any protest, smoothing the creases he’d created, and continuing with your load, until the dryer was empty and you were satisfied.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praised, beckoning him over.

He got closer, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked so pretty like that, all teary and obedient.

You wanted to make him yours and ruin him for everybody else.

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert, you know that? A creep and a pervert.”

You saw the way his cock twitched behind your lace at the words, and almost doubled over in laughter.

The night couldn’t get any better.

“Fuck, you really are a pervert. This what you get off to? You imagine me calling you names, degrading you like the bitch you are? You want to be humiliated, don’t you?”

A desperate, pathetic whine escaped his throat, and he felt his knees growing weak with need. He was naked in a public space where everyone could see him, being belittled and humiliated by the girl he’d been pining over, and he was hard as a rock, getting off every word that spilled out of your mouth.

“Well,” you purred, fisting the hair at the back of his neck and tugging harshly, “I think we can arrange that.”

“Yes, yes, please, I want it,” he whimpered, chest heaving, “I want you, I’m your slut, I-, you can do whatever you want to me.”

You almost moaned then, intoxicated by his burning desire.

“Good boy,” you hummed, releasing his hair to stroke his cheekbone, smiling at the way he leaned his head against your palm, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Remember you can tell me to stop or slow down whenever you want, and I will. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you added more serious, observing his face for any trace of anything but enthusiasm.

When you found none, and he nodded feverishly, you let your hand fall from his cheek to his shoulder, tracing the outlines of his lean muscle.

“Can- can you kiss me, please?” he asked, and he begged so prettily that you could do nothing but humor him, crashing your lips against his.

It was messy, rough. He was sloppy, and from the way he moved against you, you guessed he didn’t have too much experience.

Better, you reasoned. You’d teach him all he needed to know to please you, and you only.

You bit on his bottom lip, and Bucky yelped in surprise, parting his lips.

He tasted like mint on your tongue, and you sighed in content, letting your hands travel down his sides, barely grazing his skin, scratching the hair on his belly.

He shuddered under your touch, goosebumps erupting in your wake.

When you reached his lower stomach, you felt him tense, his breathing getting harder, his tongue more insistent.

He was drooling and crying, you realized, as he snapped his hips against your leg, humping you like a dog.

You broke away from the kiss, catching your breath.

“Look at you, you gettin’ real worked up and I barely even touched you. What are you, a fuckin’ virgin?” you chuckled, playing with the little bow on the front of your panties.

You’d expected him to laugh, or deny, but he just stood there awkwardly, avoiding your gaze,

“I’m not,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Then why are you acting like one?” you prodded, but didn’t wait for him to answer, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

His hesitant hands groped your breasts, finally gaining the confidence to do more than linger awkwardly on your hips. He twirled your stiff nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them, movements getting more frenzied the closer he got to his release.

He crouched awkwardly to be at your chest level while still pressing his hips onto you, and tugged your loose tank top down, moaning at the sight of your tits.

“Go on baby, suck on my tits.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement to assault your nipples, latching his mouth onto one of them, and suckling. You wondered if he’d ever even touched a pair of boobs before, but his ministrations were working either way, making your walls clamp down on nothing.

You finally grasped him in your hand, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him lazily, spurred on by his little whimpers.

His whole body quivered when you ran your thumb over his slit, and you marvelled at his sensitivity.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?” you moaned in his ear, “I bet you do, I bet you could cum already just from this. Just a handjob, like the pathetic little boy you are, hm?”

He released your tits with a wet pop, and rose to full height again, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yes, yes, please,” he sobbed, “please, princess, more.”

You complied, doubling your efforts. He inhaled sharply when you added your other hand and began twisting both your wrists in opposite directions.

“You want your princess to suck your dick, baby? Want me to get on my knees and take you in my mouth?”

He nodded against you, grinding his hard cock against your hand, desperate to chase his release.

“Or maybe you want your princess’ pretty pussy? You want to fill me with your fat cock and stuff me full of your filthy cum, don’t you?”

He began blabbering, breathing harder, sloppily snapping his hips. He had a look of pure bliss on his face, his eyes shut tightly, mouth hung open and a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

You could feel him grow and throb in your hand, and just before he was about to reach his high, you stopped your hands.

His eyes shot open and he opened and closed his mouth to protest, but you gave him no time, fisting his hair and slamming him against the washer, bending him over the cold surface.

“What, you thought I’d catch you stealing my panties and I’d let that go?” you tutted, bending over him, pressing your front to his back, whispering in his ear “Bad boys need to be punished, don’t you agree?”

A choking sound escaped his parted lips, and you giggled against his skin, licking a strip behind his neck.

You let your hands wander down the expanse of his back, settling on the waistband of your panties. You indulged yourself again, slapping his ass because you liked how it jiggled and how Bucky whined.

“You have a nice ass, you know,” you mused, slouching back to get a good vision of it, “You ever had anyone stick anything up there?”

“W-what?” he sputtered, crooning his head to look at you, “N-no, never.”

“Cute.”

He squirmed in embarrassment when you spread his cheeks, groaning when he felt your spit drip down on him. You massaged a finger around his rim, your hand coated in your spit and his pre cum.

“Relax, I’ll make you feel really good, promise.”

You gradually felt his muscles relax under your touch as you soothingly ran a hand down his back and kept whispering calming, sweet nothings in his ear.

Then, you dipped a finger past the rim.

“See, not that bad, huh?” you smiled, working your finger inside him, caressing his walls.

You nipped the skin of his back, peppering his muscles with fluttering kisses, grazing your teeth over his column.

You dipped another in, and Bucky hissed, wiggling his legs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you shushed him, “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

He preened under your praise, and you began scissoring your fingers inside his ass, working him open and looking for the spot you knew would make him beg for more.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock.

You loved how pliant Bucky was being, obedient and submissive in your grasp. You noticed the tears that hadn’t stopped streaming down his face, and huffed a laugh.

“A pervert, a slut, and a fuckin’ crybaby, aren’t you?” you mumbled, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, holding onto the washing machine for dear life, tongue lolling out of his mouth, drool dripping down his chin, making it known that you’d found what you’d been looking for.

“Yes, fuck, please princess, gimme more,” he begged, overwhelmed with a pleasure like he’d never experienced before.

He felt like a fire had been lit in his lower belly, and it was spreading to every limb, encompassing him whole.

You grasped his cock in one of your hands while your fingers kept pummeling into his ass, feeling the rim clench around you and his cock pulsate.

You thought you could cum from his beautiful sounds alone, and you kept going until you were sure he was on the verge of a mind shattering orgasm.

Then, you stopped again, and this time Bucky sobbed, blabbering and wailing, begging you.

“Please princess, I’ll do anything, just please let me cum, please, please,” he continued, shamelessly bucking his hips against nothing.

You released his cock and pulled your fingers out of his ass, cleaning the fluids against his panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ pathetic, begging like that,” you mocked him, retrieving your phone from the pocket of your shorts.

You snapped a couple of photos of him bent over the washing machine, pent up and debauched. His balls hung from the lace of your panties, and you made sure to zero on his tear stained face.

“So pretty, my pretty crybaby,” you cooed, helping him stand up again.

He fell on his knees, clutching the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please, you can’t leave me like this, I-, please,” he blabbered.

You committed the image to memory, knowing you’d see it again soon.

You could see it in his eyes how hooked he was to you.

“Baby, bad boys don’t get to cum, do they? You can’t go around stealing people’s laundry,” you tutted, lightly slapping his cheek, “You deserve some punishment, don’t you agree?”

He hesitantly nodded, slumping down on his shins. You grasped his chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“You got to bed now, no touching, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll know if you disobeyed, and trust me, you don’t want to know what’s gonna happen if you did.”

You smiled, and took a few steps back to retrieve your basket, leaving him to catch his breath on the floor.

“See you tomorrow at 4 pm, you know where my dorm is,” you chirped despite your own neglected arousal, sauntering to the door, “Get dressed before someone comes in, you wouldn’t want to see how much of a pervert you are, right?”

He shook his head, agreeing with you despite the sobs that silently shook through his body.

“Good boy,” you purred, hand twisting the knob. You paused, and threw him a look over yourself, “Oh, and thank you for the laundry.”

-

I hope you liked this! Please leave some feedback if you can! ❤️

[hintofelation99]

Sick day headcannons!!!!!!!

Hell yeah, I do have a post on this already (linked here) but sick day headcanons are some of my favs so let’s do some more! (Just btw there will be some repeats but that just means I rlly like that headcanon)

Dick

Dick: Oh no, god no!

Wally: What’s wrong?!

Dick: I’m dying!

Wally, suspicious: Okay…

Dick: Please Wally this is serious, I need help!

Wally, deciding to take Dick seriously: Okay, what’s wrong? What do you need?

Dick: Just a coffin. Made of maple- no oak! And roses, preferably white, oh or blue! With baby’s breath. And-

Wally: Dick, what’s wrong?!

Dick: I burnt the roof of my mouth.

Wally leaves.

A good rule of thumb for Dick is the more dramatic he is the less serious the situation. The less dramatic he is the more serious the situation.

He will go into work with a cold and complain the entire day.

If he has something serious that’s contagious he’ll call in sick but just say it’s a slight stomach bug.

If it’s not contagious he will act like everything is completely fine.

One time he did this after getting an injury on patrol and ended up passing out and spending that night and the next day in the ICU.

He has become a bit more responsible over the years, mainly bc he thinks it’s adorable how sweet and cuddly Damian gets.

His favorite sick day activity is eating junk food and watching rom coms under a fuzzy blanket .

Babs

Dick: Please go to bed!

Babs: I am, I am, just one more line of code.

Dick: You’ve said that for the last three hours!

Babs tries to relax when sick but she has trouble actually taking a step back to rest.

Most of the time she’ll take a nightquil then get distracted by something and ends up falling asleep in front of her screen.

Usually Cass or Steph will come over and take care of her.

Steph always makes the best comfort food. And usually Cass will tuck Babs into bed.

Babs loves dozing on the couch to the sound of Cass and Steph laughing in the kitchen as they make her soup.

If Cass and Steph can’t come over she loves talking to them over discord while eating take out. Usually she and Cass just listen to Steph babble or she watches on of them stream something.

She also usually ends up falling asleep.

Jason

Bruce: Are you sick?

Jason: I’m legally dead.

Bruce: That doesn’t-

Jason: So,legally, no. I am not sick.

Jason will forever and always argue that he can’t get sick since he already died.

When he was little he was rarely able to get extra rest when he was sick. Because when he was really little he wanted to go to school to avoid Willis. After Catherine died he was too busy just trying to survive to focus on being healthy.

But when Catherine was alive and Willis was away Jason would stay home from school, and if Catherine was sober she would read to him and sing lullabies. This only happened like twice but Jason cherishes those memories of Catherine.

As a kid if he was ever sent home for being sick he’d get in huge trouble with Willis.

After being adopted the first time he was sent home with a fever he begged Alfred not to tell Bruce and hid in his closet until he stopped crying being sad. Alfred sat by the closet door with soup, a grilled cheese, and tea, reading The Princess Bride aloud until Jason came out. It took two hours.

Jason’s favorite sick day activity is drinking tea and rereading The Princess Bride (with the movie playing quietly in the background) while wearing his Wonder Woman hoodie.

Cass

Steph: Cass why are you patrolling while sick?!

Cass shrugs.

Steph, with a sigh: You’re allowed to take a sick day, okay?

Cass looks unsure but nods.

Steph: C’mon, let’s get you a bath and fuzzy blankets.

Cass forgets that she’s not just a weapon/tool. She forgets that she’s allowed to rest when sick.

Because of this she will keep going no matter what and tends to view ‘taking a sick day’ as a failure.

Steph, Tim, and Babs have been working on this with her. She’s improved a lot now that Tim lost his spleen and gets sick easily.

Now usually Steph cooks for her while Babs lays with her.

Cass isn’t against taking medicine but she never feels like the situation is severe enough to require medication. So someone in the fam has to convince her to take her meds.

She becomes extremely cuddly when sick and will cling to anyone near her.

Her favorite sick day activity is watching old horror movies with Steph or Babs.

Steph

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m fine.

Steph: I’m- I have a fever of 104, I should rest.

Stephs mom is a doctor, so she’s used to being told “it’s just a cold, you’re fine”.

Usually she keeps going until she can’t then sleeps for like three days.

But it’s less out of stubbornness and more out of habit. So if someone tells her to rest she’s immediately like “okay!” and takes the sick day.

Babs always calls or comes over to check on her every day that she’s sick.

Cass has been learning how to cook and loves making Steph food when she’s sick.

Tim used to come over but now he always calls.

Stephs favorite sick day activity is sleeping with an ice pack or heating pad, depending on the sickness, with a giant cup of ginger ale and Cass curled up beside her.

Tim

Jason: Tim, are you sick?

Tim, tiredly staring at case files: No I-

Tim is interrupted by a violent coughing fit.

Tim: Oh, I guess I am?

Growing up Tim loved getting sick because it meant the house keeper would come over and take care of him and he might even get a hug.

But she stopped coming over when Tim was ten, his parents thought he was old enough to handle being sick on his own.

Sick days in the manor were a shock to him because he was rarely alone, there was always one family member by his side.

Now that he’s immunocompromised he’s always surrounded by people, he pretends to get annoyed with it but really he loves how much they care.

Dick always sings Romani lullabies and runs his fingers through Tim’s hair. Jason, Duke, and Steph will cook for him. Damian stay by his side and bring him tea. Babs will play video games with him. And Cass does a bit of everything, at least everything other than sing to him.

The family also takes Tim getting sick very seriously so if they here one cough he’s immediately being interrogated and getting his temperature checked.

Tim’s favorite sick day activity is laying under a weighted blanket with a cup of tea and playing video games with Babs, Steph, Duke, and Cass.

Duke

Dick, knocking on Duke’s door: Hey bud, why are you still in bed? I thought we were training together?

Duke: Sorry, I forgot to cancel. I’m sick and don’t think I can handle training today.

Dick: You’re sick?!

Duke: Yeah, but don’t worry I’ve been disinfecting and cleaning so no one else should get sick.

Dick: I’m not worried about getting sick, I’m worried about you!

Duke: …oh, okay.

Growing up sick days were spent at home either resting alone or with one of his parents.

He had to do some fending for himself (like cleaning and making food when his parents weren’t home with him) but nothing extreme or unexpected. So, overall he had pretty normal sick days.

After he parents went missing he was so focused on getting them back and saving them that he never stopped to rest when sick.

Now as a member of the Wayne family his sick days are always spent with someone by his side, at least they are if he tells the family he’s sick.

He’s gotten in trouble several times for not telling Alfred/the family that’s he’s sick. Not because he puts Tim at risk, he like all the family is very cautious about that, but because everyone worries about him and wants to help take care of him.

After several lectures from Alfred he’s finally getting better about telling the family when he’s sick.

His favorite sick day activity is reading Jason’s copy of The Princess Bride while having a bowl of Alfred’s chicken noodle soup.

Damian

Jason: Are you sick?

Damian: N-

Damian sneezes like a kitten.

Damian: No.

Cass, smiling: Sick baby brother, cute sneeze.

Damian tries to be offended but ends up having a sneezing fit.

Steph: That’s so adorable!!

Damian has the most adorable sneezes. He literally sounds like a kitten and the entire family and hero community finds it adorable. Damian hates it.

He used to try and pretend he wasn’t sick and just work through it.

Then he sneezes in front of Harley and Ivy and they cooed over him for an hour.

Now he grumpily secluded himself in his room when sick.

Usually the family will check on him and find that Jon flew over and they’re cuddling on his bed watching cartoons.

When Damian’s sick he really craves spicy food. Like everything he eats he’ll add hot sauce or pepper to. His food is so spicy that only Cass can handle it, like it makes ghost peppers look like child’s play.

His favorite sick day activity is drinking masala chai under one of Tim’s fuzzy blankets while wearing Dick’s old hoodies and surrounding himself with various soft things he stole from his siblings. This is preferably done while eating spicy tomato or lentil soup and watching cartoons with Jon.

[obsessive-ego]

A late night hand nsft

Musical beetlejuice x reader

You give beej a handjob in your sleep

Reader has a vagina

Warning dubious consent, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda

Shout out to the anon that told me to do this

Its been a full week of beetlejuice being underfoot and in your personal space, from the moment youd wake up, and left for work, to when you got home again, not that you minded at all, in fact you adored the demon, hell, you were head over heels for the ghoul, not that you had the balls to say it.

But this whole week he's been up on you, clinging to you, nuzzling his scratch beard into your neck, pinching your rear, poking at you, he just couldnt keep his hands off, not that you minded, though you did scold him for getting too friendly with your bum, you two even slept together and the man was a cuddler. All this physical attention wasnt usually an issue, you could normally deal with this pent up frustration and sexual neediness during some alone time with some less then wholesome thoughts of the bastard who made you feel that way to begin with.

But not this time, beetlejuice just wouldnt give you the time of day, normally he would duck out and scare the neighbors or lydia would summon him away, but lydia was off on a family vacation or something, and beej just wasnt in the mood to be a pest to anyone but you.

You envied the ghoul, his ability to just leave and do whatever he wanted, hell for all you know the bastard could be jerking off on the roof, shooting his load over the edge and watching it splat on the sidewalk, honestly you wouldnt put it past him, you couldnt help but snicker at that image, but your mirth was cut short when a familiar gravelly voice grabs your attention.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, just remembered a stupid tiktok I saw the other day, dont worry about" you shrug

The ghoul grunts, alittle annoyed you wont elaborate on the joke, but his attention returns to the film the two of you were watching, he was watching, you were too busy in your own head.

It was the regular movie night the two of you shared, you would order pizza, beetlejuice would scare the piss out of the poor delivery guy, and the two of you would stay up till the early morning watching B list horror, all the while the demon had an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side, he would claim he did it cuz he was cold and you were warm, and under normal circumstances you didnt mind, but now? You felt like you were gonna die, you swore the demon could hear your heart pounding away, or feel the warmth from your face, god couldnt tell you were in desperate need to deal with your pent up frustrations could he? Hell you wanted the ghoul to absolutely rail you on the couch, and you're pretty sure he'd do it if youd asked, but you werent that type of person, nor did you want friends with benefits relationship with beetlejuice, if anything you wanted something more romantic, as cheesy as that sounds, a loving relationship with a literal demon, I mean the two of you DO get along nicely, so maybe it wasnt too out of the question?

You were so busy in your on head freaking out you didnt hear beetlejuice trying to get your attention.

With a poke on the cheek you yelp in surprise

"You sick or something?" He smirked, amused by your cry

"Yeah, feeling alittle dizzy" you mumble avoiding the ghoul's eyes, he was leaning into now, his face way too close to yours, he had no idea what personal space even was, and you were in no state to deal with his clingyness unless you wanted to cum your pants infront of a jackass who'll never let you forget it.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed early" you shift away from the demon and up off the couch, he huffs in annoyance

"Really babes? You got the day off tomorrow, how bout you relax here with me, I dont mind if you doze off on me~, I'll keep ya nice and cozy all night~" he purrs, eyeing you up and down, if you werent wet earlier you were sure as fuck were now, you swallow the lump in your throat and squeeze your legs together and squeak out a soft "no thanks, I think sleeping in my bed would be ideal, I dont want to make you sick or anything, I mean If i am sick, night" you babbled as you scurried to your room.

With the closing of the door you were home safe in your room, not safe enough to jerk away these annoying pent up sexual feelings, yes you could be quite, but beetlejuice was nosy and had the nasty habbit of appearing when you least wanted him to, fantasies of him walking in on you then helping you finish is one thing, but in reality? Its terrifying.

You can stare at yourself in your bedroom mirror and snear "horny dumbass" you mumble as you plug your phone into its charger and slip in bed hoping tomorrow these frustrations would vanish.

Beetlejuice stifled a laugh at your exit, one of his favourite things about you was that you were a terrible liar, he could read you like an open book, that's how he found out you liked him and not just in a sexy way, he saw how much you liked him as a person, even though he wasnt one, you treated him with genuine kindness and wanted him around, not strings attached, that in itself was rare, a pretty little breather like you having the hots for a smelly creepy old guy of a corpse? One in a million, and he sure as hell wasnt gonna let it go.

He knew you liked him, and yes he's seen you masturbate more then he's willing to admit, but seeing you so turned on you looked like you were gonna explode? That was new, and he'd be lying if he wasnt a tad turned on by it at all.

Let's be honest beetlejuice knew he was winding you up all week, he wanted to see you're cute flustered expression, but soaking your panties? That was a bonus, he didnt think youd get so hot under the collar by his games, he was actually quite flattered that he had that level of effect on you.

The ghoul quietly floats over to your bedroom, pressing an ear against the door, nothing, he frowns, no sounds of soft panting, or the muffled buzz of your little vibrator, nothing. Maybe he was asking for too much, hoping youd have the guts to jerk one out while his presence was known, but no, no little peep show tonight.

As much as the demon would love to slip into bed with you and catch some Zs, it was still too early to do so, you'd still be awake, and in your current state would be pretty jumpy, he floats back over to the couch to wait it out, despite his creepy nature beetlejuice occasionally had these moments of respecting you and your feelings, it was odd, maybe the maitlands were rubbing off on him.

Beetlejuice spent most of this time waiting for you to doze off just staring at the ceiling as he reclined on the couch, he pulls a clock out from his jacket and gives a small smirk, enough time as finally pasted for you to be out and for him to slink in.

The ghoul fazes his way through your bedroom door, seeing you fast asleep, he smiles, floating towards the edge of the bed and with the snap of his finger his striped suit vanishes leaving behind nothing but a pair of stripe boxers.

Beetlejuice gently pulls aside the covers to reveal your sleeping form, you were wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, and with further inspection a pair of boxers, that were hidden by the shirt.

The ghoul slips in beside you and sighs at the welcoming of your warmth, the ghoul pulls you close being ever so gentle, trying not to wake you. The demon settles on the position of you using his soft chest as a pillow, your body pressed up against his side, and an arm around your shoulder with his hand on your upper back.

Beetlejuice let's out a soft sigh, this, this was nice, the feeling of warmth from your living body against his cold one, you were so soft, and warm, and alive, and you were all his, you just didn't know it yet. The ghoul couldnt help himself, you made him feel so wanted for nothing, of course he was going to fall for you, soon he'll get you to confess your feelings to him and then things will be perfect, but until that day, the demon was fine to snuggle with you, and get satisfaction from you in anyway he could.

His musings of your future love life was cut short with a soft whisper, it was unintelligible, but it was from you.

The ghoul stifled a laugh, you were talking in your sleep again, something you did often, but rarely was the demon able to make out what you were saying.

"What's up sweets? You okay?" He chuckled, hand running up and down your back

You mumble in response

"Oh, what's that? You need mr beebleboose to help you out?"

You hum

"You need me to rub your clothed vagina? Oh, y/n you naughty minx, is it because your so pent up from my little game of teasing-"

The ghoul's mirth was cut short when he felt the soft touch of a warm hand against his clothed dick.

"Whoa, babes, y/n ah-"

At first beetlejuice could have mistaken the first stroke as a slip of the hand, but another? You were gently rubbing his crotch in your sleep.

The ghoul quickly changes his hue to electric  pink, and bites his knuckles to try and stop from moaning out as your warm hand continously brushes clumsily against his cock, now fully erect, it was embarrassing how quick the ghoul's meat rose to your touch alone.

"Sugar, you're not playing fair" he groans before bucking into your touch, this wasnt fair, you're dead asleep and playing him like a goddamn fiddle, was this karma? Was this his punishment for making you hot under the collar? I mean as far as punishments go, it could have been worse, but having you touch him in such a way, and not being able to do damn thing about it? Still drove the demon nuts, god slash satan he wanted to wake and rail you, though he knew you would die of embarrassment if you found out what you did to him in your sleep, so here beetlejuice was, stuck between a tock and a hard place.

"Bee..."

The noise nearly stopped the demon's heart, if it was still pumping, beetlejuice glances away from the ceiling over to you, which thank God, you were still asleep, just rambling again.

The ghoul lets out a soft sigh of relief before you interrupt

"Faster?"

The demon nearly dropped his jaw at what you uttered, though he clenched it back shut when he felt your soft hand squeeze his cock through his boxers.

"Harder?" You mumble

"Y/n please" he whines softly "fine, you win babes" he ghoul groans before begrudging brushing your hand away and pulling his painfully hard cock out of his boxers, the ghoul gently guides your eager hand back to his desperate meat, which you gently take hold of, the demon stifles a moan at the rush of warmth of your soft hand against his hard cool cock. Beetlejuice slowly begins to guide your hand up and down his shaft, all while he pants and and moans, hips trying their best not to buck too hard and wake you.

"Oh y/n, theres nothing like doing the stranger, especially if you already know them huh?" He chuckles between pants

"You like that?" You mumble in a whisper

"God slash satan yes" the demon whines, he wanted this for so long, he would have preferred you be awake, but he wasnt going to punch a gift horse in the mouth.

His hand guiding your own began to pick up pace, running up and down his shaft, stopping at the base ever so often to give it a light squeeze.

"Is this good?" You sighed

"Sugar you have no idea" been groaned biting on his knuckles

As good as beetlejuice was at edging he knew he wasnt gonna last long, the warmth and softness of your hand was gonna be the second death of him.

He was in heaven, or as close as a born dead demon was gonna get, but he was brought back quickly to reality when movement beside him.

The smallest squeak of movement from the mattress followed by a soft whine from you, if the ghoul's heart was still pumping it would have stopped by now.

This was it, he was done for, you were gonna see his dirty transgression and banish him forever.

Seconds pass and there was nothing, no screaming, nothing.

Beetlejuice let's out a sigh before returning to guiding your hand up and down his desperate erection.

But you move you body again, a soft bump against the ghoul's side, and another bump, then another, followed by a soft whine from you.

Were you trying to get off?

The demon smiles and stifles a laugh, here he was tending to himself while his sweet little y/n was desperate for a release of their own, what kind of lover would he be if he was to leave his favourite breather hanging?

Beetlejuice moves his free hand from your back, and softly slides it between yours and his bodies, slipping it gently between your legs, where it was greeted with a great warmth. His cool fingers gently press against your clothed sex, he could feel you were already wet, you've been hot under the collar all week due to his teasing, the demon couldnt help but smile at how this was all his doing, with another press against your clothed folds, you let out a soft whine and gently buck up against his hand.

"Bee" you whimper

"Y/n" he sighs, returning his other hand into guiding yours up and down his leaking cock.

Many a nights has beetlejuice dreamed if this exact situation, although in his fantasy you were awake, but this was good too.

"Want me to make a mess honey?" You whined

At this point the ghoul was close to his limit, it was if you could read his mind "oh yeah baby, help daddy make a mess" he groaned using your hand at a more brutal pace, chasing his own orgasm.

"Fuck y/n, that's it, that's it doll, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over your pretty hand baby" the ghoul babbled before finally cumming, his ectoplasm splattering all over your hand and the sheets that hid his dirty deed from view, moving you hand away from his now spent cock.

Beetlejuice takes a moment to bask in the after glow, before finally coming down from his sexual high to help you finish.

His attention now, 100% on you, a slight increase in pressure on your crotch as he rubbed, you whined and bucked into his hand, mumbling his name.

Beetlejuice took this opportunity to be a tad more bold, slipping a finger up the pant leg of your boxers and into your soaked vagina, he shivers at the new sensation, warm, wet, alive.

He slowly begins to pump his finger in and out, while his thumb eagerly runs at the clit.

It didnt take long for you to finish ether, due to how tightly wound you already were.

"That's it doll, cum all over my hand, eye for an eye right?" He chuckles

With a gasp and a few messy movements from you hips you cum, coding the demon's hand in your juices.

You slowly stop your thrashing and you panting dies down to soft breathing.

"Was it good for you too?" The ghoul snorts removing his hand from your crotch and bringing it to his mouth, sucking the lucky finger that explored your entrance.

Electricity leaving his hair, but remining pink, content in his late night activities, he snaps his fingers and his cum covering your hand and sheets vanish, as nice a thought was to have you sleep in that mess, youd be furious, and he couldnt have you finding him out just yet.

"Good night y/n" he sighs giving your forehead a soft kiss before dozing off.

Bonus

You woke up groping around for your phone, 10am, you huff, you start to sit up before being yanked back down, into the arms of the demon who snuck into you bed again.

"Wheres the fore babes? It's your day off, come play with old mr beebleboose~" the familiar coo of the undead bastard you welcome into your heart graced your ears.

"Morning beetlejuice" you sigh

"Sleep well doll? Feeling better, you sure were hot last night~" he teased giving your cheek a pinch

"Yeah, I am feeling better..." you trailed off, clearly amazed that you really DID sleep off those frustrations "werid dreams though.." you mumbled

Beej immediately perked up at that "oh~" he leans in nuzzling his face against yours "care to elaborate babes?" This was gonna be good, you were gonna be a cute flustered mess again.

You snort "dont get too excited there Bee, it's not like that, I was standing in the living room shaking a can of pop" you say flatly giving a jerk off type of movement with your hand, the ghoul's eyes grow wide at the gesture, tips of his hair turning pink "you were there, sitting infront of me, I tried to talk to you, but you didnt respond, I just kept shaking the can, till my arm hurt, then I opened it pointed directly at my face, spraying pop all over myself, then the rest is kinda fuzzy..." you trail off knitting your eyebrows together ad if you were trying to remember.

The demon let out a loud cackle causing you to flinch

"Oh babes, guess that dream helped you release all that tension huh?"

Your face burns when It clicks, rubbing you legs together and feeling the familiar feeling of a recent masterbation session, you didnt cum in your sleep did you? God, let's just hope beetlejuice wasnt awake when it happened...

[loveatfirstwriteblog]

A Complete Analysis of Harry Potter

Like a lot of kids, we probably grew up on Harry potter. We were obsessed and rightly so. The universe created in the world of Harry Potter was, and is, a hugely successful one because of the fact it gave kids a world where magic exists! It seemed to be a great world to live in and it made even better with the fact that it included elements of empowerment, Whether it be showing girls can be just as successful if not more in various pursuits(Hermione), or the fact that even if you have a history of bad events, you can have a good heart(Hagrid), Harry Potter teaches us a lot.

JKR has written a mind-blowing plot in a world of magic, wizards, witches, wands, potions, friendship, love. Our inner-five-year olds--and actually most of our young adult selves too--jumps around excitedly at the beautifully penned words that creates an exit out of this world and into one where magic does exist. 

As you get older, though, you begin to think of Harry Potter in a more critical fashion. The thought of “oh my god, it’s magic” no longer completely overrides my mind, but more of “but what are the laws regarding this? Can people just do this whenever they want? Are there no ethics?” 

No matter how much we’re going to expose the flaws and plot holes in HP now, we’ll always love the books--we grew up on them! But some things just niggle you as you get older, and that’s what we’re going to be focusing on in this post.

Something I adore about the HP books is that everyone, including the “good guys”, has flaws. Harry has a “save the world alone, do first, think later” complex, a driving force that makes him go save Sirius, Ron is very, very insecure to a point where he ditches Harry twice, probably when Harry needed him the most, Hermione is a judgemental, narrow-minded nag (her thoughts on Luna, divination, Trelawney, basically anything that doesn’t fit her black and white world), Molly Weasley is misogynistic and blatantly favourites her children—probably being one of the main factors behind Ron’s insecurities, Arthur is condescending towards Muggles and makes several comments you cringe at while reading the books as a young adult/adult, Sirius, Snape, and Lupin still haven’t let go of their childhood grudges and hatred, etc etc etc. 

These flaws are what make these characters so three-dimensional, so layered, so human. But the problem was, most of these flaws are never intentionally acknowledged. And honestly, that could have been such a good character arc, because the main characters are mostly students. No student is the same through their teenage years—they change, they evolve, they get over their flaws, they try to better themselves. I would have loved to see Ron becoming his own person, Hermione opening her mind up a little, etc. 

Neville is not one of my favourites, but I love his growth and development, from someone who was scared of his potions professor to a man who faced down Lord Voldemort. Ginny Weasley could have had character development, from the trauma she went through in second year, but that was never written in.  She went through this terrifying ordeal when she was only twelve years old, and jump to a year or two later and she’s absolutely fine, with no transition from her trauma whatsoever.

Some of JKR’s characters are brilliantly written and fleshed out, but some of her others lack the structure and complexity that usually comes with being vital to the plot—Ginny Weasley for one. Her internalised misogyny also plays a huge part in the way her female characters are written. We see this again in the case of how she wrote the character of Ginny. 

Ginny Weasley is not a favourite of ours (if you don’t know that by now). She feels a lot like a convenient male daydream—when she waits for Harry to notice her by dating other guys, gets annoyed by Hermione “not knowing quidditch”, etc etc—and fits the “not like other girls” archetype too much, almost like she was made for it (hint hint). She’s portrayed to be strong-willed, spunky, and independent, and I love the idea, but I really don’t see it. To me, she’s a very shallow character, the least fleshed out one. 

Just like James Potter wasn’t necessarily redeemed just because JKR said he was, and Ginny isn’t interesting just because JKR writes that she is. 

Hermione also fits the archetype, but she’s JKR’s self-insert, so we really can’t say much about that. 

To make things worse, Ginny and Hermione are pitted against each other in a very subtle way. Ginny is the sporty, pretty, flirty girl who’s never single from book 4. Hermione is the not-conventionally-attractive, nerdy girl who’s had a few dates here and there but never a relationship. They’re very different characters (the only thing they have in common is the archetype) but they’re against each other in the defence of Harry. 

Another place where JKR’s misogyny shows up is the way other girls are written. Lavender Brown is shown as vapid and immature, just because she likes clothes and boys and didn’t know how to handle her first relationship. Cho Chang is perceived as shallow because she’s emotional. Pansy Parkinson is seen to be throwing herself at Draco Malfoy. The Weasleys hated Fleur because she was beautiful and sexy and French, and that was ever really resolved in the end (Molly accepted her, but we never got Ginny’s and Hermione’s opinions again). You see where we’re getting at? The typical “girly girls” are portrayed as insipid, shallow, emotional, and boring, while girls like Hermione and Ginny are seen to be fun and multilayered. 

The problems with Harry Potter don’t just stop with non-fleshed out characters. There are plot devices that go unacknowledged, issues like blood purity—which is the basis of Voldemort’s tyranny—are never really resolved, huge Chekhov’s guns that aren’t fired. 

A common misconception, which if cleared up could probably expose a load of problems in wizarding society by itself, is that the wizarding world is racist. It’s not racist. Muggles and Muggleborns are not a different race, they’re a different class, at least according to pureblood wizards. Mudblood is a classist insult (a direct reference to nobility blueblood and aristocracy).

Another factor that wasn’t talked about but made the HP world so complex and realistic is the inherent classism in every single pureblooded wizard, including the Weasleys.

 The “Light” wizards all operate on the notion “at least I don’t kill or torture Muggles”. The Weasleys refuse to talk about Molly’s squib cousin who’s an accountant, the Longbottoms were so desperate for Neville to not be a squib they nearly killed him trying to force magic out of him, Ron makes fun of Filch for being a squib, thinks house-elves are beneath him, and confounds his driving instructor in his mid-thirties, the ministry workers kept obliviating that muggle at the quidditch World Cup, etc. 

This could have been a metaphor for how small prejudices and microaggressions (kind of the wizarding equivalent of white privilege) enable discrimination and murder, if JKR had actually acknowledged it. 

The parallel to Nazi Germany is very twisted and definitely shouldn’t be taken too far, but the Nazi ideology grew on the basis of everyday antisemitism, “that’s not that bad” little things. Voldemort’s circle and army grew because the wizard superiority complex festered and blew up in some people, egged on by a deeply classist society. 

Ultimately, Harry Potter has very, very shoddy worldbuilding, the kind of worldbuilding that’s obsessed with answering the “what” of the wizarding world, rather than the “how” or the “why”, which is strange, considering that fantasy or dystopian-era novels’ driving plots and conflicts are usually answering the questions the worldbuilding raises--The Hunger Games and The Shadowhunter Chronicles are two of the best examples of brilliantly written YA fantasy and dystopian novels. 

In HP, however, the main plot just avoids the questions the worldbuilding brings up like the bubonic plague. 

Voldemort’s agenda is built on prejudice towards Muggles and Muggleborns, but the plot just validates the negative perception of them—at the end of the day, being a wizard is what’s special. The Statute of Secrecy is the foundation of the main concept—blood supremacists believe wizards shouldn’t be hidden away—but only vague, barely-there answers are given to why it exists (a Chekhov’s gun that was never fired). 

There are love potions that function like date rape drugs (even Harry was given one by a girl who wanted him to ask her out), potions that force people to tell the truth, potions that literally let you disguise yourself as another person, but the ethics are never talked about, and the laws are so lax that three twelve-year-olds broke them and were never caught. 

But at the same time, the worldbuilding is so authentic, because it transforms the wizarding world into straight-up fridge horror. The everyday horrors are just accepted and rolled with. A corrupt government, constant obliviation of Muggles, slavery that isn’t even talked about. These things aren’t obvious to us as readers, or to the wizards as characters, because they match up to the real world, which is filled with things that are horrifying if you dig deeper. The multiple, normalised forms of abuse, police brutality, the violence in prisons that nothing is done about, the glaringly obvious cultural problems we have with consent, etc. 

The abusive authoritative figures in HP, like Rufus Scrimgeour, Cornelius Fudge, Dumbledore, Umbridge, etc, are so authentic because real-life politicians and people in high places of power behave that way, and their abuse is excused. 

The wizarding world is just like the real world. Corrupt, prejudiced, messed up, but if you’re privileged, or at least have certain privileges, you’re probably not going to notice. The ultimate problem is that the plot doesn’t acknowledge a lot of fridge horror things are messed up either, which is why it miserably fails. 

[itjazzbicch]

Blame

Pairing:  Joey Janela x Fem Reader

Summary: On Television, the reader is a member of the Best Friends, portraying as Trent's girlfriend, but no one knows that she is dating Joey Janela. On her big night, when she wins the title in AEW, Trent professes his love to her, kissing her in front of everyone and Joey does not take it kindly...

Warnings:  SMUT!!!!!!!! (18+ ONLY!)

Requested by:  @hungmanhorsecarriage​ (I hope you enjoy!!)

Word Count:  2400

Tag List: @demonqueen29​ @jessiebean00​ @new-zealand-chic​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @justamess44​ @thatpanpal​ @hungmanhorsecarriage​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​  @linziland13​ @xxx-jazz-xxx​ @writtingrose​

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF

“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and NEW AEW WOMENS CHAMPION, Y/N!!!”

That was something that I thought I would never hear and instantly, tears began to streaming down my cheeks slowly.

Everyone told me that I couldn’t do it. My opponent tried to take me out so many times, but I prevailed and now, I was the champion.

I hugged that title so tightly then raised it up high when the referee raised my hand.

If that wasn’t any better, I had my best friends there.

I was a part of the Best Friends, Trent and I being a couple on television, but we were really just friends. It was a good feeling to know that they were all happy for me, still holding the title in the air when they did our group hug.

There was nothing that could bring me down, everyone growing silent when we noticed that Trent had a microphone.

“I hope you guys don’t mind if I have a moment on the microphone and speak from my heart, ” Trent began, turning to me with a smile, pointing at me when he continued:

“There is nothing that this woman cannot accomplish! Since AEW started, she has busted her ass! Making this women’s division stronger! Having first-time-ever matchups! Facing the men in this industry! Being the best friend that she has always been! Being the best girlfriend that she has always been and now, she is the champion!”

Everyone agreed with Trent and even though we weren’t really dating, his words still meant a lot to me because we were friends.

“Baker tried to injury her! Got her jumped! Played so many mind games, but she prevailed and I want you all to know-” Trent added, coming to me, putting the title around my waist, then standing in front of me, “I want you to know that I am so proud of you and that there is no woman on this earth that I love more than you, Y/N!”

I thought Trent’s, I love you, was a friendly one, but I was wrong because what I thought was going to be a hug, was much more than that.

Trent hugged me like it was the last he would ever have and he kissed me, in front of everyone, on camera.

Everyone was cheering, but I was losing my shit! We were just a couple on television! Trent has never done anything more than hug me or wrap his arm around me!

No offense to Trent, but I didn’t love him. I loved my boyfriend, Joey Janela.

He was my real boyfriend and he was the first person I thought about when I felt Trent’s lips against mine.

I kept my eyes closed, telling myself in my head:

This is just a dream. Just a crazy dream. Haha

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a dream. Trent kissed me one more time after our lips parted, smiling down at me before he picked me up and put me on his shoulder.

It was so hard to pretend to be happy like I was a few moments ago when I won, showing my title to the fans.

The moment we got backstage, I lied and said I needed to use the ladies' room, but I rushed to Sonny and Joey’s locker room, finding Sonny just like I hoped.

“Sonny, I’m gonna die! Trent’s gonna die! Where the fuck is Lance Archer because everybody is going to fucking die?!” I stressed, not holding back the emotions and losing my mind.

“Y/N, deep breath’s, okay?” Sonny sighed, trying to get me to calm down, “You just won the title! You should be happy!”

“Thank you,” I smiled, truly appreciative, but snapping right back into panic mode, “But Trent just professed his love for me and kissed me in front of fucking everyone! Joey is going to lose his shit! I’m losing my shit!”

“Joey is the type,” Sonny admitted, hugging me, but the bit of peace we had didn’t last long when we heard a loud knock on the door, anger in Joey’s voice when he said:

“I know you both are in there!”

Sonny didn’t hesitate to unlock the door, letting him in and god, he looked angrier than he sounded, his face turning ready.

“Joey, please don’t-“ Sonny began, but Joey wasn’t having it, snapping:

“Sonny, don’t even bother!”

“It’s not her fault and you know it!” Sonny snapped back, not taking his shit and standing up for me.

“Can we just have some time alone?” I asked Sonny quietly.

He answered with a smile, but shooting Joey a dirty look and slamming the door shut when he left.

The silence between Joey and I was so damn scary like a horror movie. He was huffing and puffing, his hair frizzing when he began sweating a little from all of the anger.

“I told you that you needed to get out of this storyline and now look!” Joey yelled and at first, I wanted to stay quiet, but I started freaking out again when I yelled:

“How the hell was I supposed to know that was going to happen? Usually,, He always keeps things professional. I’m not a damn mind reader, Joey!”

“Yeah, and it’s pretty obvious that he had enough of being, “professional”!” Joey mocked, “And the first thing you do is run to Sonny and avoid me?!”

“Yeah! Because when you’re jealous, you always lose your shit!” I snapped, “I’m losing my shit too!”

“I have every damn right to be “jealous”!” Joey argued, “How would you feel if another girl kissed me, huh?!”

“Tonight was supposed to be my night,” I cried, holding my title, “You see this Joey? I busted my ass for this!”

It became hard to fight through the tears, but still able to continue:

“Trent can kick rocks! I don’t love him! I love you! He’s the one who did this, not me. All I wanted was to bask in the glory of winning my title, but I guess that’s too much to ask for.”

Finally, Joey calmed down for a moment. He was breathing normally again after a deep breath, realizing that I was right. Even though that was hard for him.

But when I told him that I loved saying quietly:

“You know that I love you too, Y/N. I know how hard you worked for that and I’m proud. Not only are we going to celebrate, but I’m also making sure everyone here knows that the champion is my girl.”

“Please,” I smiled, putting my title down while we almost to each other, my soul about being smacked out of my body when his lips hit mine and hard.

His whole body felt like it was on fire and during every touch, it was like I could feel it, feel how frustrated he was and I couldn’t blame him. I was frustrated too, but this was our time to let that all out and we sure did.

The next thing I knew, clothes were flying all over the locker room, my wrestling boots, and knee pads just being launched in all directions, and when he tried to get on the couch, we were moving too fast and fell on the floor.

“Fuck that couch!” Joey groaned, throwing one of his shoes at it, shoving the small coffee table into the corner, “We can do it on the floor.”

I was just about to spread my legs wide, kind of wanting to tease him, but there was no time for that.

My body followed along when he flipped me over, putting me in a doggy-style position, wasting no time, about splitting me in two when he lined his tip with my entrance, then slamming into me, all of his cock in me with just one thrust.

“Oh,” I whined sharply, being a smartass when I said, “I just wrestled a match you know?”

“Don’t act like this is the first time we fucked after a match,” He groaned, giving me another quick thrust, shutting me up and making me moan.

Joey was definitely dominant, animalistic at times, but this time, with what happened tonight, that was all quadrupled.

Hard, fast, unrelentless.

I couldn’t even have a second to try and collect my thoughts with the way he was giving it to me, hands refusing to leave my hips, pulling me back to make his cock go even deeper.

Not even five minutes and I was being turned into a whining, moaning mess, keeping my ass perked up while my upper body collapsed, trying to take deep breaths, but I ended up burying my face in the floor, smacking it.

“This ain’t no submission match,” Joey chuckled, taking one of my arms and also taking a handful of my hair, pulling my head up.

Both holds gave him more leverage, my back arching hard when I felt hard, pounding shots at my sweet spot that were nonstop.

His hand was tugging at my hair a little harder, pulling me up towards him and since he was kneeling, I could kind of sit on his lap which helped, but with the way he was going, fucking me senseless, it didn’t matter.

“I wanna hear you screaming my name,” Joey growled in my ear, biting at it, the bites falling down to my neck and shoulder, while his hand left my hair and found my throat, giving it a good squeeze, “I can’t hear anything when your face is in the floor.”

“Joey,” I whined loudly, “Baby, you’re so damn good.”

“It’s good when I fuck your brains out, huh?” He snickered, biting my neck again, making sure marks were left behind.

At the same time, his hand let go of my arm, taking a handful of my breast, twisting my nipple and it sent this tingling feeling through my body, my core and walls clamping up.

Joey must’ve liked the feeling, his hand quickly falling to my hip, his forearm pushing my hips down while his fingers were at my clit, going in circles.

“Just know, you’re going to cum more than once,” He smiled against my shoulder with a kiss, pulling down to just his tip and railing my walls on every thrust, with having me up straight and bouncing up and down.

“‘Now, cum all over me,” He commanded, “I wanna be soaked.”

“Joey,” I moaned out, every moan so dirty and it was to the point where I was just about screaming, never experiencing such an overwhelming orgasm.

It about drained me, my body growing tired so quickly when all the heat flushed out of me and soaked all of cock and thighs, even the floor.

Joey lived up to his word but was kind enough to give me a second. I fell to all fours, finally having a moment to breathe properly until I felt a hard smack on my ass, and then another one.

I turned back to look at him with a smile, seeing his eyes still full of fire, unable to control himself again when he picked me up and turned me around.

“Get over here, ” He growled, kissing me hard with so much tongue, wrapped his arms around my waist, picking me up so that I was up straight, my legs wrapped his waist while my arms held onto his neck.

“Oh my, oh my God,” I cried, drooling on his shoulder, taking all of him in a quick, smooth thrust again.

I took a handful of his, holding on tight as he repeated that same cycle, just as fast as before. He knew how good he was, loving the sight of my head falling back, all of the pleasure making my eyes roll back when I felt him in my lower core near my stomach.

Even with my eyes open, my vision started turning white, in a bunch of flashes, my walls clamping tighter than ever. I could feel another orgasm building up more and more as I held onto his neck tightly, turning his red flesh white.

One of his hands went around my neck, the other holding the arch of my back, letting my back fall back to the floor, still keeping my lower half up and arched while he hammered away b

Salacious moans and screams, wet skin, groans were all anyone in the entire place could probably hear because we were going like wild animals.

It was to the point where I couldn't breathe again, looking back at anything to try and distract myself, but then I saw the door and shadows, feet by it, just standing there.

Joey was curious as to what I was looking at, noticing and it put an evil smile on his face.

“Looks like we attracted attention, ” He laughed, slowing down for a moment so I was laid down properly and he could be on top of me.

“Joey!! I’m so close baby,” I whined, but looking back to the feet and they were still there.

“You’re going to get what you want,” He assured, “Just couldn’t help but notice what you were staring at.”

We both looked and then I ended up moaning loudly, unprepared for the crazy thrust I received.

“Everyone is going to know that you’re mine after tonight,” Joey whispered in my ear, smothering me with kisses on top of my wicked moans, working harder than before, “Even if they walked in right now, I’d still keep going, show them who really rocks your world.”

“We all know it’s you, Joey, ” I said quickly, growing frantic, scratching up his back when I felt my orgasm forming up and it was ready, “Joey! Joey!”

My body seized when I latched all around him, holding on for dear life, my whole body pulsating to the point where it was the only thing that I could hear.

“Oh hell yeah, that’s it,” Joey groaned, it rumbling in his chest while he took the time to enjoy it, his cock sure enjoying it when I felt it beginning to throb.

“Baby,” I whispered, still panting, but wanting something.

“Yeah, baby girl?” He asked, his hair falling down when he looked at me.

“If we get in trouble, I am blaming you,” I warned, both of us blurting out in laughter.

“Go ahead,” He smiled devilishly, kissing me, “I’ll gladly take the blame.”

[mrfeenysmustache]

SessKag Discord Drabble Night

All word counts: 100

Prompt One: Tradition

“No.”

“It is tradition, Miko.”

“I said no.”

“My mother will expect-“

“Then she can be disappointed.”

“She may question the validity of our union if you do not.”

“Who cares? She doesn’t like me anyway.”

Sesshomaru sighed and sat down, staring blankly at his little mate-to-be as she turned her back and huffed in annoyance.

“It would mean a lot to ME if you would-“

“Oh ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!” She said, snatching the fur from his hands. “I’ll wear your grandmother’s carcass to our ceremony.”

He smirked.

It was not a carcass, but would not correct her.

He had won.

Prompt Two: Belief

“I believe we’re in trouble.”

“I believe you are right.”

Kagome chewed her lip nervously, while Sesshomaru simply stared.

“Your dad is gonna HATE me.”

“He will not.”

“I RUINED it.”

“You did not, you… renovated.”

“Sesshomaru.”

He sighed and stepped forward, picking up the old, priceless inuyokai artifact that now sported a dark purple wine stain.

Toga swept in then, to check on them.

“Oh oops! Well that’s ruined.” He said, voice amused.

“I’m so sorry sir! Sesshomaru said it was priceless, but I can pay-“

“Oh nonsense. I just told him that to keep him from touching it.”

Prompt Three: Fear

His claws slid through the silken lengths of her hair as she slept against his chest.

He could feel her heart beat, every breath, every twitch of every muscle pressed against him.

Evidence of her vitality, safety, and existence.

He was the fiercest being alive, relentlessly trained, carefully bred, the pinnacle of all life.

What use had he for fear?

Kagome shifted, nuzzled close and kissed his jaw.

His heart twisted with love.

She would be hunted for loving him, their children targeted and outcast, just as his brother had been.

She could be taken.

His heart twisted- with fear.

Prompt Four: Habit

Kagome sat at the edge of the couch, leaning as far away as she could.

Sesshomaru absentmindedly snipped his toe claws as he watched the evening news.

She stared in horror as he dropped each claw clipping in a pile right in the middle of the couch.

“Do you HAVE to-“

“You KNOW I find modern shoes unbearable unless I keep my claws trimmed. We have discussed this.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you do THAT! It’s the worst habit you have!!”

He smirked, clipped another claw, dropped it on the pile.

“This I do just for YOU.”

She shuddered.

Prompt Five: Pretense

“I guess I just… don’t get what you see in him.” Inuyasha groused, and Kagome bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“He’s just… such a bastard and you’re… not.”

“Maybe.” She said, trying to keep her voice level.

“You’re so emotional, and I don’t think he’s ever felt anything in his LIFE.”

“Mmhmm.” Kagome stirred her coffee, avoiding Inuyasha’s eyes, playing along to keep her fiancé’s privacy.

Because of family expectations, he valued his reputation for cool indifference.

But it was all pretense.

In private, Sesshomaru was… a mess.

He’s scatterbrained, sensitive, forgetful.

He was normal.

He was hers.

Prompt Six: Notion

“Sesshomaru!!!!”

“What?”

“COME HERE!”

“Why.”

“I need you!”

“You told me this bath was for relaxation and that I, specifically, was not allowed in-“

“That’s NOT what- UGH okay, what’s a 7 letter synonym for “notion” that rhymes with “tambourine” and starts with an “Z?”

Sesshomaru furrowed his brow and looked up from the book he’d been trying to read.

“What nonsense are you speaking of, Kagome?”

“Just come here and look please! This crossword is hard!”

He rolled his eyes and went, shocked to find her standing, biting her lip, suds sliding enticingly down her nude form.

“I lied.”

Prompt Seven: Legend

“Land of what?”

“Land of the Legendary.”

“And why should I be interested in such games?”

“We aren’t PLAYING it Sesshomaru, Inuyasha just said to check it out because there’s a character that looks like you.”

“Doubtful.”

“Well I’m curious, so we’re looking.”

He scoffed but settled in next to her as she opened the game on her laptop.

“Oh. My. God.” Kagome snorted as they saw the character.

A small, fluffy white dog with a big pink bow.

She covered her mouth, stifling a laugh while he glowered, sniffed, turned his nose up.

“I do not have a brother.”

Prompt Eight: Careful

Needle pricked fabric and pulled through, carrying the beaded thread, locking it in place.

It came back through, and deft, careful fingers loaded several more colored glass beads before pulling, turning, placing, pricking.

Kagome watched with with her usual appreciation as a field of glass and silk flowers grew across the gauzy fabric that she would make her newest dress from, and then she brushed a kiss across Sesshomaru’s cheek.

“I never get tired watching you embroider.” She said, voice full of love and pride.

“Hn. And I never tire watching you clothe yourself with the work of my hands.”

Prompt Nine: Myth

Kagome sighed, sitting back at her kitchen table, letting all her plans crumble to dust.

At first, when she’d run into Sesshomaru in the modern era, she’d been shocked by how quickly feelings had developed, and tonight she’d invited him over hoping for… THINGS to happen.

Instead he was alphabetizing her spice cabinet.

“It is inconceivable that you manage to cook anything in such disarray.” He growled, but she rolled her eyes.

“You are literally a living, breathing myth, and you’re snipping at me about spice organization.”

“SOMEONE must.”

She’d hoped to kiss him, now she wanted to smack him.

Prompt Ten: Coincidence/Consequence

“You have come back many times this week.”

Kagome blushed as she stared at the owner of the little book shop she’d stumbled into.

She had been back a lot, buying more books than anyone could read in seven days.

But the owner, who manned the register, looked SO MUCH like a human Sesshomaru. It must be a coincidence, but after how things had gone between them before the well closed, she HAD to be sure.

This was the consequence of her curiosity.

“Well, I-“

“Kagome,” he purred, “It IS me.”

She gasped, tears filling her eyes.

“Sesshomaru….

“Found me.”

[lokiondisneyplus]

Holy crap. Look at Kate Herron's shirt. When the Loki director pops up on Zoom, she's donning the most glorious image anyone will see since we laid eyes on Alligator Loki: A Teletubby wearing the Loki horns. Are the Teletubbies Loki variants? Sure, why not!

"I got it on Instagram," Herron says. "There's an amazing comic book artist and he designed it. He made it into a T-shirt for me because I saw it and was like, 'That's incredible. Can I get it for the press junket?'"

Herron, no big deal, just pulled off an MCU miracle. Entering a mammoth franchise with, notably, some of Sex Education's best episodes under her belt, the director deftly brought a plot involving multiverses and Richard E. Grant in a cape and superhero mumbo-jumbo to brilliant, beautiful life. Following Loki's tear-jerking, mind-bending finale, the series has been dubbed by critics and fan's alike as one of Marvel's best efforts—which is no small feat. Of course, we needed to ask Herron how she stuck the landing. Following the most epic finale you, me, or any Teletubby can remember, Herron talked to Esquire about the Miss Minutes jump scare, filming the finale's introduction of He Who Remains, and why she won't return for Season Two of Loki.

ESQ: How are you doing?

KH: I'm good. I think I feel very relieved that I don't have to sit on the secret of He Who Remains anymore, It was a very big secret to hold, but for an important reason, right? Because it's such a good character to be launching. So yeah, I feel good.

ESQ: Loking back at your old interviews, you have such a good poker face when you're avoiding spoilers, but you're also incredible at giving aggregator crumbs.

KH: I play a lot of board games, so you need to be quite good at strategy and poker faces so people can't always read your hand. So I think weirdly board games have prepared me more for working with Marvel than anything else.

ESQ: I have to start with the Miss Minutes jump scare. What went into the decision to make her a memeable, creepy apparition in that moment?

KH: I love horror, and my executive, Kevin Wright, knew that. Me and him were talking about Episode Six and I remember that he was like, "Oh, maybe you could do something creepy of Miss Minutes." And I immediately was like, "We have to do a jump scare!" Because I haven't got to do a good jump scare in anything yet and I really wanted to, because a lot of my friends are horror directors. I was like, "I can't let them down." So I was really excited to have a shot at doing a jump scare. And Miss Minutes, it was really fun testing it because we'd kind of bring different people into the edit, me and Emma McCleave, the editor, and we'd just play it for them, watch them, and check that they were jumping when we cut it.

ESQ: One thing that I think is getting missed in all the craziness is that we see a peak moment of the love story between Loki and Sylvie. Where does the finale leave the companionship that they found in each other?

KH: When I started the show, that was always in the DNA of it—that Loki was going to meet a version of himself and they were going to fall in love. And that's honestly what drew me into the story, because I directed Sex Education. I love stories about self-love and finding your identity and your people. Loki is such a broken character when we join him, and seeing him go on this amazing journey with all this growth and finding the good points of himself in seeing her—I think that was very beautiful. It's also paying respect to the fact that Sylvie's in a very different place to him. She hasn't had the Mobius therapy session. She even says, in Episode Five, "I don't know how to do this. I don't have friends." You really feel for her because she has been on the run and her whole life has been this mission.

It's almost funny because these characters are thousands of years old, but it's almost teenage the way they both talk about their feelings for each other. I think everyone can relate to that, right? In any new relationship, there's always that kind of awkwardness and like, "Oh God, am I too keen? The important thing was the hope—like when Sylvie and him kiss, I think it is genuine and it is coming from a place of these feelings they have for each other. Obviously she does push them through that door, but for me it was a goodbye and it was with heart. But it's kind of a goodbye in the sense of like, I care about you, but I'm going to do my mission because that's where I'm at.

ESQ: I would pay for you to direct the Sex Education episode where Otis falls through a portal into the multiverse, into the main MCU.

KH: He really looks like a Loki as well, which is so funny. I always thought that. I was like Asa does look like a Loki. It didn't come to pass or anything, but it would be interesting to do a Sex Ed-Marvel crossover. I wonder who all the different characters would be within the MCU, but it would be quite funny.

ESQ: You're right, he could pull off a teenage Loki.

KH: Yeah, like a teen or a very young ’20s, maybe. But it was just funny because I was like, "Oh yeah, he looks a bit like Tom." I wonder how they could do it. I'm sure they'll find a way to do a crossover anyway.

ESQ: Can you just take me back to filming with Jonathan Majors? And you capturing him in such a compelling, quirky, scary way—I'm sure your direction was such a big part of that.

KH: I was just so excited because Jonathan is an actor that everyone was so excited about. He's like a chameleon in everything he does and he's so talented. I just feel as a director so lucky to have worked on this because I feel like I've got to work with some of the best actors out there. And when you're with Jonathan, you know you're in the presence of just someone really magnificent. For me as a director, it's giving him the space to play and feel safe. Because we filmed it all in a week, but it was a lot to film in a week. So I think it was really about creating a space where he could have fun and find this character because he's going to be playing him for a long time.

ESQ: What went into the decision to introduce us to the good guy first?

KH: I remember in the script, he comes up the elevator and it was so casual. I was like, "Oh man, that's so fun." And then Jonathan, when he plays it, he's relaxed. And I the thing he used to talk about a lot was that this is a character who's been on his own for a long time. Because at the beginning, we introduced him in a space in the universe that feels like this very busy, loud place, but actually, when we see the Citadel, he's surrounded by the Timeline and he's very isolated. Even in his costume with [designer] Christine Wada, for the idea of his outfit, he's a character who's existed for multiple millennia. So it's like, OK, let's pull from lots of different places so you can't necessarily pin down which time or which place he might be from. Also the fact that his clothes look comfy. They were like pajamas because he's living at home. He loved the idea of the office [being] the only finished part of the citadel and that the rest of the citadel was like this Sunset Boulevard kind of dusty, dilapidated space. And just again showed that he probably just keeps himself to his office. All those elements definitely fed into Jonathan's performance in terms of balancing the extrovert, but also the introvert of someone that would be living by themselves and only talking to a cartoon clock.

ESQ: It really is incredible how you pull a nail-biting finale with this battle of wits and dialogue.

KH: It was really exciting because I feel like Episode Five was a lot of fun because we got to play into all the joy of the different versions of Loki, but also just the fact that it was our big usual Marvel third act, right? Like it was where our big spectacle was as they were fighting this big monster. But I love that our finale bookends, right? We began with a conversation and we ended with one.

ESQ: I also loved that there was no end-credits scene—I think it makes the ending that much more impactful. Was there ever an end credit scene on the table, or any kind of a stinger?

KH: I think no, because weirdly, we never went after the kind of mid-credit sequences. I think we always just were thinking just of the story and where we knew we wanted it to end. For example, Episode Four, originally Loki was deleted and then we went straight to him waking up. And it was only in the edit I was like, “I think it'd be really cool actually. We should move that scene to mid-credits because then we'll really feel like Loki has died." Because if I watched that moment and then it went to the credits, I'd be like, "What?!" And then when we were talking about the best way to talk about Season Two, we were like, "Okay, well, let's do that like a little mid-credits at the end because that is exciting to confirm it in that way." I'd say we found both of those in the edit just because we wanted to kind of do it right and have a fun nod to something that Marvel does so well.

ESQ: Is there anything you can tell about the future of the story you've told here—or even where you personally would like to go with the studio or otherwise going forward?

KH: Yeah, so I'm just on for Season One. So I'm so proud of the story we told. I mean, it was amazing getting to set up the TVA and take Loki on this whole new journey. And I mean, I think we've left so much groundwork for his character, and as people see in the comics, there's so much more to be delved into. And I just am excited honestly to just see where all the characters go. Like, who is B-15? What did she see in those memories and where did Ravonna go and where is Loki? I think for me, we've set up these questions and I look forward to seeing them being answered as a fan in the next season.

ESQ: Absolutely. Well, can we please work on the Asa Butterfield Loki?

KH: I will call him and I'll be like, "You want to do some crazy Marvel crossover?"

[hyperbali]

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Alright. Finally had to sit down and write my way out of this quiet, internal temper tantrum, and a few people were interested in seeing what I had to say, so I present to you:

Agatha Harkness Was Right, And Here’s Why

Disclaimer: MASSIVE spoilers for the entirety of WandaVision, and I am not nice about it.

I’ll start off by saying that, for all its foibles, WandaVision was genuinely a good example of a property within the MCU/Disney umbrella that stepped out of the usual ‘good guys fight bad guys action extravaganza’ in a way that pushed the envelope. The pseudo-horror aspect of the first few episodes is something I would really love to see engaged with on a more thoughtful basis in future projects.

I would say that it proved to be more than a vehicle to promote toys, but… well…

Yeah. Anyway.

I’ll assume that you watched WandaVision if you’re reading this, but quick recap: In the aftermath of ‘the Blip,’ Wanda is left broken and alone with no one in her corner. Her biggest mentor willingly abandoned his team to get his own ‘happy’ ending (do not get me started on Steve, that’s a document in and of itself), her other biggest mentor is probably off enjoying his family while ignoring the incredibly racist killing spree he’s been on for the past five years, and her lover is dead. When she goes to claim the body, she’s told nuh-uh, that’s government property, please leave.

So she goes to a plot of land in the middle of some nowhere town in New Jersey, which Vision apparently bought despite the fact they were living a pretty decently comfortable life in Scotland, where she looks at the deed that Vision drew a heart on and wrote ‘To Grow Old In’. Very sweet. Kind of weird, considering nothing of this caliber had ever been suggested for either of their characters and they’d been actively running from specifically the U.S. authorities? But sweet.

She has a breakdown and, in her grief, contains the entire town of Westview and all 3,892 of the people in it in her own personal paradise, where nothing bad ever happens beyond sitcom hijinks, no one dies, and every problem is tied up and neatly dealt with by the end of an ‘episode’. Except we learn that this is only paradise to Wanda, who apparently shares the aspect of having to relate everything to her favourite pop culture with Tony, because everyone else in Westview is more or less being psychologically tortured by the incredible amount of pain she’s in, forced to be puppeted actors to make her happy.

Bear in mind, Westview might have been bigger at some point - we have no idea how many people survived the Blip, or how many have been brought back to life within the past few weeks of the current setting. Either way, this is a town that has already dealt with a lot of trauma being dragged into yet another awful, much more specific kind of emotional damage, thanks to ‘the heroes’. Nice.

Agatha Harkness, a witch who’s been up to who-knows-what in the 340 years since she drained the coven that tried to kill her for getting a little too ambitious into jerky, feels the massive expenditure of magical power and decides to investigate. All the while, she carefully uses her own magic to try and peek into Wanda’s psyche, her motivations, all while keeping up appearances and not letting slip that anything is amiss.

I’ll point out that she’s no saint here, either - she specifically keeps one Westview resident at her mercy, and knows what’s happening to the rest of them, but doesn’t attempt to stop it. I’ll chalk that up to her pragmatism; their ‘sacrifice’ was fine to her as long as she could figure out how Wanda could have done something so unheard of in terms of power.

What we come to learn over the course of the show is that, given everything that happened, Wanda didn’t mean to take over an entire town and tool it into her own personal slice of heaven. She very quickly became aware of it; we know that she knows it’s her own personal bubble as soon as episode three, when she’s confronting Monica about how the latter could possibly know about Ultron. Wanda is made further aware of how much damage this is inflicting on others in episode five, when Vision himself tells her that these people are scared. But still, she has everything handled! It’s okay! The outside world is worse, trust her!

Her handling of the question, ‘where are all the children of Westview,’ is one that bears some thinking - and, y’know, kind of more than a little concern. They’re allowed to walk around as part of the ‘Halloween special,’ but as Vision walks further and further out towards the edges of town where Wanda doesn’t have as much full control, people are just frozen in place, or conducting the same few seconds of action over and over. And fully aware of being trapped.

How are they being sustained? Eating, sleeping? If someone isn’t part of her storyline, is she just locking them down into a coma? What made Wanda decide that keeping the children ‘out of the way’ was somehow kinder than involving them, especially given her later argument that she’s been trying to keep the entire town safe and happy?

The fact of the matter is, she only actually starts to feel remorse for any of this after she’s confronted with the fact that, after weeks of being at her mercy, the townspeople of Westview would rather be dead than endure another moment of having to play nice for her enjoyment. She finally opens the ‘bubble’ to let them out - which leads to the ‘epic’ finale of three different entities trying to take down Wanda and her happy family: the S.W.O.R.D. military led by Hayward, the White Vision, and Agatha.

Winding back to how we got here: after Agatha uses her own trapped resident, Ralph Bohner (who, given his casting and the props in place during the last episode, I’m willing to bet is actually the missing witness protection person Jimmy was looking for) in an attempt to lure out Wanda’s reasoning - and fails - she’s pretty much done pretending. She tricks Wanda into her basement, nullifies her powers, and makes her face her own past to get to the truth of the matter.

Not going to lie, favourite moment of the show. Kathryn Hahn killed Agatha’s slightly-amused-slightly-irritated observations about Wanda’s coping mechanisms, and the whole arrangement was extremely meta. I would have paid real money dollars to see her do the same thing to the likes of Tony, Strange, and Loki. Hell, even just having her meet the rest of the Avengers? Augh. If wishes were fishes.

When Agatha comes to the conclusion that Wanda is the vaunted, nigh-indestructible force of nature that she’s literally spent her entire life reading about is the ultimate source of chaos magic and will likely bring about the end of the world, she’s pretty understandably taken aback. To that matter, the fact that Wanda… has very little control over any of it, and is using what she does understand to play housemaker? After how long Agatha has spent learning control, hiding in plain sight, just to be child’s play compared to what Wanda has at her fingertips? I’d be pretty pissed off, too!

The way that WandaVision handled both of the major ‘fights’ - Vision versus White Vision ending in philosophy, and Wanda ending up beating Agatha at her own game of deception - is excellent. A little grating that they had to go with the beat down angle before they got there, but this is MCU; punches and thrown cars had to get shoved in somewhere. And, given that this series very much played with the idea of grey morality, I was sort of hopeful that Agatha would end up in a not-quite stalemate arrangement with Wanda. She’s not as powerful as the Scarlet Witch, but she has the know-how that Wanda sorely lacks; in recompense for her own deeds, she would be able to teach what she knows while also kind of scheming on her own time.

Y’know, like what they did with rehabilitating Loki?

Except that Wanda, who has just gone through the entire rigamarole of coming to terms with the fact that she trapped thousands of people into a nightmare scenario against their will, rendering them helpless to her mercy… traps Agatha into a nightmare scenario against her will, rendering her helpless to Wanda’s mercy.

That moment actually shook me. Oh, my god. We’re supposed to still look at Wanda as a good guy after this?

This isn’t even covering the incredibly awful confrontation with her and Vision where she tries to gaslight him into believing that everything is A-OK, or the fact that the person she gets most violent with (apart from Agatha) is Monica Rambeau, a black woman who spends most of the show bending over backwards trying to say that what Wanda is doing is understandable, justified, and just needs a gentle touch to be dealt with.

That could be its own document, too - how Monica, much as she’s incredible and definitely looks to be a really exciting addition to the MCU roster, more or less gets used as the Good One to absolve and enable Wanda’s actions. One of her last lines to Wanda, after seeing how the people of Westview (rightfully) look at Wanda like she’s monstrous, is “they’ll never know what you sacrificed.”

Sacrificed what? The fake husband and fake kids she made out of her own compulsion to pretend that everything is okay? None of that would have existed if she’d been given the proper resources to actually cope with how much loss she’s had to deal with. None of that would have existed if she hadn’t caused this problem in the first place.

In the end, Wanda flies off in her fancy new gear before the FBI shows up, avoiding any real consequences to her actions - which has pretty much been the running theme of her character ever since she was introduced to the MCU in Age of Ultron. The worst kind of direct consequence she’s ever gotten was being grounded to her room for a while, then kept in the Raft for, like, maybe a day - and both times, she was broken out post-haste.

Meanwhile, she worsened the issues in Sokovia (which, I will say upfront, was Tony’s fault to begin with), unleashed the Hulk on Johannesburg, got a pretty significant amount of civilians killed as bystanders in Lagos (hey, how come Wanda keeps turning a lot of black people into casualties?), and stood back in Wakanda to let their people try to fight off Thanos from getting to Vision until it was clear that there was no other option than for her to get involved.

Great Power Comes With No Responsibility At All, Actually.

Wanda, in the several years she has maintained her identity as an Avenger, has proven time and time again that she takes on innumerable risks without any full understanding of what they mean, allows others to take on the brunt of the fallout for her, and looks sad until she’s forgiven and moves on to the next problem. She has no business casually throwing around the kind of power that being the Scarlet Witch entails, not until she’s actually made any kind of headway into making reparations for what she’s done and tried, really tried, to get a handle on what she’s capable of.

Which she’s apparently doing in the last post-credits scene, astral reading the literal Book of the Damned on her lonesome in the mountains, but… without anyone to guide her, or give her any kind of boundary?

[I ran out of images I could post, but you know exactly what image I am referring to here]

Agatha Harkness was right. And that should terrify everybody that has to deal with Wanda in the future.

(P.S. Do we know if she actually even killed that dog? We never see her holding anything but a blanket, and characters go in and out of that show all the time. Granted, she wasn’t great with the cicada-turned-bird... hmm.)

Additional Notes:

“Well, you’re a Tony Stan, of course you think Wanda’s a villain”

I like Tony because he’s such an awful mess, and the narrative isn’t exactly kind about telling him what a piece of shit he can be! He reaped a lot of problems, created practically half the villains in the MCU, and ended up dying a martyred hero. Thanks to being the tent pole by which this franchise hoisted itself into a cultural powerhouse, he will always be their golden savior. If you want to read about how he’s the true villain of this entire affair, feel free to look up any number of takedown pieces about him that are out there. He’s a dick. I will never “uwu sad baby who did nothing wrong ever 🥺” him the way people do about Wanda.

“Why are you so pressed about this”

Because something as good in concept as WandaVision could and should have been about anyone other than the whitewashed, antisemitic take on Wanda Maximoff that MCU brought upon us. They put crucifixes on her wall in Civil War, for fuck’s sake!

“Weren’t you mad about them not including Aaron Taylor-Johnson”

At this point, I am almost kind of relieved the real Pietro wasn’t resurrected for this, because god knows they probably would have killed him all over again just to inflict that much more pain on his sister.

“Anything else you’d like to tell us, turbo nerd”

This was literally itching at me all weekend to write, so it’s more or less just to get it off my chest. If you powered your way through it, uh… thanks? Sorry if I yucked your yums, but I tried to be as clear with the disclaimer as I could. 🤷‍♂️

[jtrbluv]

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera​ , @koushiningg​, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

-

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very  rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

-

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,” another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,” you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only. 

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth. 

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out. 

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite. 

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you. 

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance. 

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time. 

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues. 

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it. 

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face. 

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight. 

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below. 

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time. 

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top. 

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away. 

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.” 

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find. 

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm. 

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay. 

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky. 

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you. 

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin. 

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do. 

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp. 

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only. 

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight. 

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey. 

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.  

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!” 

-

-

-

MASTERLIST

[luxekook]

chapter eight.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 6.5k

⇥ warnings: 18+, lots of cursing, general chaotic energy [more than usual], poly relationship, switch!reader, dom!joon, switch!jin, switch!hobi, sub!yoongi, sub!jk, sub!tae, sub!jimin, jk is a whole cutie, everybody gets their bob ross on, PUNS, pick up lines, smut [thigh kink, noona kink, marking, oral (f receiving), dom/sub themes, daddy kink, mentions of spanking, lots of lap sitting]

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Eight

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 8:38am

I wake to the sound of thunder and groan as my eyes strain to focus on the rain pouring down outside my window. Hastily, I grab for my phone and scroll through my notifications. Yup, my friend Brianna - the president of the Alphites - had emailed to say that Habitat is cancelled for the morning.

What did this mean for my date? Swiping over to the group chat, I quickly type a message to the boys.

Queen (y/n), Worldwide Handsome, and 6 Peasants

8:40am, (y/n): “Yo, dweebs. No volunteering today because of the rain. Looks like our date is cancelled, too…”

I laugh evilly as my phone consequentially blows up with a series of question marks and exclamations. Just as I’m about to put a stop to the madness I’d caused, my phone screen darkens with the telltale chimes of an incoming FaceTime.

Not even bothering to shift out of bed, I swipe to answer. “Hi, Hobi,” I grin at my sunshine who looks a little pouty this morning. The metaphorical rain cloud over his head lessens marginally at my smile.

The puffy, bare-faced boy sighs and runs a hand through his wild hair. Obviously, Hoseok had just woken up, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.

“(Y/n)? Did you hear me?” Hobi chuckles, bringing my attention back to my phone. “You weren’t serious, right? Our date is still on? We have the whole thing planned! The rain doesn’t even affect it! And—”

“Is that (y/n)?” A cry of uproar sounds from the background on Hobi’s end of the line. A thundering of footsteps commences; and, suddenly, I am faced with seven slivers of faces all crowded together.

“(Y/n)!” Jungkook rips the phone from Hoseok’s grasp and takes off out of the room. The background blurs as he runs. Faintly, I can make out blurry figures giving chase behind him. “(Y/n)! Please still come over. We have everything set up! Saturdays are always full of noona, and I don’t want to break the tradition.”

Letting out a laugh at the fluffy haired boy, I smirk, “First of all, let me just say that I’m glad you don’t subscribe to the whole ‘SaTuRdAyS aRe FoR tHe BoYs’ toxicity. And second of all, you do realize you just gave away the date plans, right?”

“Jungkook!” The shout from what could only be an enraged Seokjin echoes across the connection.

I watch in amusement as the background once again blurs. As the feed refocuses, Jimin’s beaming face greets me, and I roll my eyes at the realization that Jungkook must have tossed him the phone. Probably playing a game of ‘Monkey in the Middle’ with their eldest brother, I assume.

Deciding enough is enough, I retake control of the situation with the tried and true method of the shock factor™. “Hey, I’m naked.”

Silence falls.

Then comes the seven pairs of eyes crowding the screen that I had hoped for.

Disappointed huffs resound from the collective as I cackle, trying my best to ignore their indignant cries.

“Noona’s not even naked!”

“Why, there’s not even a boob to be seen!”

“She’s got us lookin’ like boo-boo the fool, boys…SMH!”

“Jin, did you just say ‘SMH’?” The boy opens his mouth to respond, but I decide there’s no time to discuss acronyms right now. Shaking my own head swiftly, I clear my throat, “No, never mind. Now that I have your attention, I need someone to tell me what the plan is. Am I getting out of bed today? Are we still doing the thing?”

“You can get out of your bed and into mine,” Taehyung’s words barely escape his mouth before he is pushed out of frame by at least four of the others.

“Tae, are you trying to get your name added to my punishment list?” I smirk as two boys in particular gulp, “Jimin and Jin already have the distinct honor. Isn’t that right, boys?”

“You can add my name, noona!” Jungkook gasps out, lunging once again for control of the phone. He is shoved out of the way by Namjoon.

“Oh, my little Kookie,” I laugh, “That would practically be a reward for you.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your own punishment, (y/n),” Namjoon stares me down from the other end of the phone.

“I mean, you can try it,” I shrug, “But I’ll probably either like it or turn it around on you at some point. Just saying…”

“Sounds good to me,” Joon grins, his dimples popping out, “Now get your sweet ass over here so I can spank it.”

“Right now?” I double check the time, “It’s still not even nine fucking AM. What is this going to be? Some sort of all day extravaganza? Y’all better be feeding me.”

“Yah, do you know who I am?” Jin butts in from his small corner of the screen, ”You are in the presence of Worldwide Handsome Chef Extraordinaire Kim Seokjin! Of course you’re going to be well fed - both with my visuals and with food!”

“I have no words,” I say.

Jin forges on, “Speechless, eh? I’m used to it.”

“Could the two of you stop your gross flirting for one second so that we can actually convince (y/n) to come over?”

Yoongi’s scowl appears on screen as he takes control of the phone. Jin can be heard squawking indignantly in the background.

“Gross?” I raise an eyebrow, “That’s not what you were saying when you were teaching me piano.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Taehyung yelps.

“I think so,” Jimin answers darkly.

“Wait, what’s a ‘you feminism’ again?” Jungkook mumbles from somewhere in the room.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon moans, sounding completely done, “(y/n), I am begging you to hang up and call my phone so that I can actually let you in on the plan.”

“Bet,” I say, “I’ll call you in an hour. I’m going back to sleep.”

I hang up, abruptly cutting off their whiny protests. Boys can always wait. Extra sleep, however, must seized at every opportunity.

Sinking back into the bliss of my comfy bed, I smile as I flip my phone over and promptly fall back asleep.

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 11:57am

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

“(Y/n), for the love of Jared Padalecki, get your ass up!”

Groaning, I wave Luna off with a limp arm, still half asleep. “Go away,” my garbled words prove to be futile as she pulls the covers right off of me.

“Your entourage is here,” Luna hisses, grabbing my ankle and attempting to tug me off the bed.

“My what?” I kick at her hold, “Stop going all horror movie on me!”

“You haven’t seen horror! Horror is waking up to the furious sound of fists pounding at the front door and thinking your dark past of downloading music off of sketchy websites has finally caught up with you! Horror is pulling open the door in just your Harry Potter onesie only to be faced with seven hot and all-too-put-together dudes!”

My brain slowly wraps its away around the meaning of her words. “Oh, fuck.” I launch out of bed, flailing around for my phone.

111 Messages

34 Missed Calls

14 Voicemails

“Good god,” I toss my phone back on my bed and stalk past Luna into the living room where my ‘entourage’ is gathered.

“Okay, what the fuck,” I cross my arms over my chest as I stare down at the seven boys spread out across our second-hand sectional.

“Noona, you’re here!” Jungkook springs up from his seat and tackles me in a hug.

“Where else would I be? I fucking live here,” I mumble into his chest, annoyance slipping away with each breath.

“I told you she just overslept,” Yoongi mutters from the couch, sounding very much like he was dragged here against his will.

“Finally,” I say, pulling away from Jungkook to beam down at Yoongi, “An intellectual. Now, what about the rest of you overreactive imbeciles? Did you just come over so that you could snoop around where I live?”

As I say this, my eyes narrow on Namjoon. The boy is inspecting the teacup I had forgotten to put away last night like it’s a new archaeological find. My words fluster him, and he fumbles with the cup before it falls from his grasp to shatter on the floor.

“I am so sorry!” Namjoon yelps. The rest of the boys look on with disappointment but not surprise.

“That was my great grandmother’s teacup,” I whisper, falling to my knees dramatically.

“Namjoon, your destructive nature has gone too far!” Seokjin yells, scrambling over to me. My face is buried in my hands as my shoulders shake. I can’t hold it any longer.

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, it’s fine, Joon. I’m kidding. It was just a cup from Target’s clearance section.”

“So evil!” Namjoon whines, “I was so worried!” Shuffling over to the hallway closet, I pull out our dustpan and broom. Walking back, I hand it off to Namjoon before he can attempt to pick up a fragment of the shattered cup.

“Don’t even think about using your bare hands, Joon,” I narrow my eyes at him, “A trip to Urgent Care does not count as a date.”

“Noona,” Taehyung pipes up, “You should join the Acting Club! Did I mention I’m the president?”

“Oh, here we go,” Yoongi scowls, flicking his eyes over to where Seokjin is rapidly turning a concerning shade of red.

Mount Seokjin erupts, “You’re only president on a bullshit technicality! Fifth years can’t be on Exec boards, you swine!”

“Yo, Seokjin, I’m really bummed about that policy, and Imma let you finish. But, let me just say that if y’all don’t leave so I can get ready, I will avoid you for the rest of time.”

Seconds tick by. I frown, “I don’t see movement. Why don’t I see movement?”

“Well,” Jimin hedges, shrinking under my gaze, “We figured you could just come back with us? It would save you a trip?”

The disobedience in this crew would drive me off a cliff. “I guess I was not clear the first time. I am going to drive myself because: 1) I can leave on my own terms and 2) I can leave an overnight bag in the car just in case. Although, that possibility is slipping away by the millisecond.”

“Alright! Time to go!” Jungkook barks, herding the boys towards the door.

As they practically run out the door, Namjoon turns back to me with an arched brow, “No going back to sleep.”

I salute him, “Scout’s honor. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, I’m finally left in peace and quiet.

“Want to explain what that was all about?!” Luna stalks out of her room, “I need the tea!”

A full hour and a half later, I find myself in an eerily empty frat house.

“Y’all really kicked everyone out, huh?” I comment as I peer around each corner of the house. There is not a soul - besides these seven fools - to be seen.

“I mean, there are only three other people that actually live here permanently,” Namjoon counters, ever the diplomatic president, “The rest of the rooms are mainly for guests or if a member needs temporary housing.”

Humming noncommittally, I come to an abrupt halt when the dining room comes into view. All the furniture has been pushed to one side to make room for eight easels and an excessive amount of paint.

“It looks like a Michael’s threw up in here,” I marvel.

“Who is Michael?” Jimin pops up next to me with narrowed eyes. The rest of the boys file in behind him.

“My sugar daddy,” I deadpan, “He’s an artist.”

Namjoon cracks up, while Jimin pouts adorably. “I guess you know what we’re going to do now, baby,” Namjoon says, still chuckling lightly.

“We’re doing DIY Painting with a Twist!” Taehyung yells, “The twist is that there’s no wine. Namjoon said it could get ‘too out of hand’ - whatever that means.”

“What is everyone going to paint?” Hobi asks the room after a brief pause, “I’m going to make something for (y/n)! It’s a surprise.”

“That’s so sweet, Hobi,” I smile at the boy, “Thank you!”

Not a group to be outdone, the boys quickly affirm that they too had been planning to make something for me all along.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh, “Careful, I’m going to get used to y’all spoiling me.”

“Good,” Namjoon nods, “You’re learning.”

“Yes, daddy,” I tease, “Are you going to keep spoiling your good girl?”

“You’re not a good girl,” Yoongi laughs, “You’re a fucking force of nature.”

“Thank you,” I wipe a nonexistent tear from under my eye, “This is why you are currently my favorite.”

“What!”

“Wait, you have a running favorite?”

“How can I get to be your favorite?”

Five minutes later, the room is empty aside from Jungkook and I. The rest of the boys dispersed the moment they decided to make painting a competition for my favor.

“Aren’t you going to hide away, too?” I address the younger boy next to me.

“Why would I go anywhere else when you’re right here?” Jungkook shuffles closer to me, “Besides, I wanted to use a different canvas.”

“Ah, I see,” I nod sagely before pulling my long-sleeved shirt up and over my head.

“Noona!” Jungkook chokes as he takes in my slightly sheer tank top and the black bra that peeks out from underneath, “I meant your wrist!”

“Calm down, Kook,” I laugh, “I can put it back on if you want. I just don’t want to get paint on it.”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously.

He then grabs my arm gently, flipping it over so that the inside of my wrist faces up. His thumb brushes over my erratic pulse and pauses. “Are you nervous, noona?” His wide eyes stare up at me, “You don’t have to let me paint on you.”

“It’s okay, Kookie,” I say, brushing his fallen hair out of his eyes,  “Paint me like one of your French girls.”

The boy’s cheeks bloom a bright red as he flashes me a small smile, “That’s one of my favorite movies.”

My heart swells as the cuteness that is Jeon Jungkook, and I can’t resist teasing him further. “Jungkook,” I whisper, leaning forward, “I would gladly share my door with you to keep you warm.”

“Noona,” He whines, trying to pretend like he wants to get away from me. I would rate his efforts a 1/10 considering his hand is still firmly wrapped around my wrist.

“The iceberg would melt because of how hot you are…” I keep going, arching closer to murmur in his ear, “Just like the Titanic, I would go down on you for hours.”

“Noona!” Jungkook yelps, “Stop playing with me!”

“Fine,” I pout, “But the offer stands.”

“You’re going to kill me…” He mumbles. Dipping his paintbrush into his nearby palette, Jungkook begins to etch the outline of what looks like some sort of flower onto my wrist. The strokes of the brush across my skin make me shiver - something that does not go unnoticed by Jungkook.

His eyes dart to mine, and I feel like crumbling under the weight of the adoration I find within them.

“Kookie,” I glance down, breaking the intensity before it consumed me whole, “What kind of flower is this?”

He mumbles something inaudible.

“What?” My ears strain to pick up the boy who for some reason decided to answer in the language of tiny.

“A tiger flower,” Jungkook turns away to grab a new brush, his hair failing to hide his flushed cheeks. I watch enraptured as he mixes the orange and white shades to get the end result he wants.

Returning to my wrist, he leans down and lightly blows across the drying paint.

“This is unfair,” I mumble as the boy continues to unknowingly seduce me. Or did he know? My eyes narrow as his gaze flicks to mine. Arching a brow, I decide to press him, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the matching tattoo on your forearm, right?”

“N-no,” Jungkook panics, eyes darting this way and that, “That would be Ludacris.”

Did he just— Not the time.

“Mhm,” I hum, ever the skeptic.

Jungkook swallows before once again resorting to tiny speak, “Okay, yes, it does. I’m asking you to love me, noona. Please.”

My breath escapes me in a whoosh as I stare dumbfounded at the pleading boy who once again starts to paint my wrist. Why is such a beautiful human lacking in adoration? Why does he need my affection when he has six other lovers?

“Why?” The question slips past my lips before I can catch it.

“Because,” He continues to paint, “I can see myself loving you for a very long time, and I just want to be loved back for just as long.”

The silence that falls after Jungkook’s admission feels safe and comfortable. His words swirl around my mind. And as he finishes the flower now adorning my wrist, I give him an answer I’m not even sure he had been waiting for. “Jungkook,” I wait until he meets my eyes, “I don’t think I’m in love with you yet. I’m not even sure I know what love is or what it feels like. But I can see myself falling for you. And I do know that there is a place in my heart labeled ‘Jeon Jungkook’, just like there are six other places for the rest of you… Y’all really do take up a lot of space.”

I let out a little laugh as Jungkook’s lips twitch in amusement. I continue, “It scares me sometimes. How I might fall for all of you and get heartbroken seven times over. But, I might also fall for all of you and get seven times the amount of love in return. And so I’m willing to fight for that chance. Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, and then he whispers, “I really like you, (y/n)-noona.”

I lean closer to him. Our noses brush as I whisper back, “I really like you, too, Jungkookie.”

The smile I get in response is blinding, and I can’t resist pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m done!” Taehyung hurtles through the doorway, lugging a giant canvas that definitely had not been in the room earlier, “I call this masterpiece: ‘My Boo’.”

Gaping, I take in the massive canvas full of swirling colors and abstract shapes. It’s honestly overwhelming and a bit dramatic, but that is Taehyung. And I love it.

“It’s so pretty!” I coo, shuffling over to side-hug Tae.

He shyly hangs his head on my shoulder, “You really think so?”

“Yes, baby,” I nod, “Of course I do.”

One by one the other boys return to present me with their art. Seokjin presents a sea of rainbow colored hearts (“Get it? I see hearts when you’re around!”). Hobi shows off his technicolored sunset (“It’s how I feel when I look at you, (y/n)! Hopeful, but at peace.”). Jimin bashfully hands over a painting of two silhouettes dancing (“It’s us.” *blushes profusely*). Yoongi gives me a black canvas with a portion of lighter blue mixed in (“You make my world brighter.”). Finally, Namjoon shuffles over with a succulent plant in a painted flower pot (“I accidentally elbowed a hole through my canvas… This is my favorite plant, for you.”).

The boys also marvel over the flower that Jungkook painted on my wrist while the younger boy beams with pride. One of them mentions ordering pizza for dinner, and the room clears within seconds as the majority flees in search of a menu.

Namjoon is the last to remain, admiring the art etched on my skin. “You know what it means, right?” He murmurs, thumb tentatively brushing across the dried paint.

“He told me,” I nod, focused on the gentle caress of his fingers.

Namjoon lifts my hand to his mouth and places a light kiss. The motion takes me back to the memory of a few weeks ago where he first had performed the action. “I hope you know the sentiment extends to all of us as well.”

“Oh, does it?” I smile, “You might have to mark me to make it believable.”

“Consider it done,” Namjoon says before pulling me closer to him and placing his lips on my neck. What an opportunist, I muse as he bites down gently. His tongue flicks before his lips once again press down on my neck. Namjoon litters my neck with small kisses. I gasp as he suddenly returns to the initial spot and bites down slightly harder, sucking and licking at my neck afterwards.

“Joon,” I breathe out as he pulls back, looking all smug and proud of himself, “I will get you back for this.”

“I look forward to it, baby.” With that, Namjoon laces his fingers through my own and tugs me out of the room towards the ruckus being caused in the kitchen.

One hour later, the eight of us are piled on the massive living room sofa.

“I think I’m pregnant,” Seokjin moans, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “The father is Papa John.”

“I told you not to race to beat Kook to the last slice,” Hobi shakes his head, “No one ever listens in this house.”

“You get me, bro, you get me,” Namjoon extends his fist to Hoseok who fist bumps him.

I survey the room from where I’m perched on Taehyung and Jimin, one leg hitched over one of theirs. “I thought we were going to watch a movie?” I furrow my brows, “Or was that just a ploy to get me to stay longer?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet, “I’ll go get Titanic!”

“No!”

“Please, god, no!”

“Noooo!”

The crestfallen expression that crosses Jungkook’s face tugs at my heartstrings. “Aw, Kook, I really inspired you with my words earlier, huh?” His pouting intensifies as he stalks back over to his end of the couch.

“Never let me watch what I want,” He mumbles. Sensing that this is an often fought battle, I shimmy off of Tae and Jimin and head over towards the youngest.

“How about this,” I reason, “Let the group decide what movie to watch, and I’ll sit with you during it.”

“Promise?” Large brown eyes peer up at me. At my nod, his expression brightens, and he pats his legs excitedly.

Settling down on his thighs, I realize I have made a grave miscalculation.

My thigh-riding kink + Jungkook’s muscular thighs = chaos

As the rest of the boys argue between watching Die Hard or The Hangover, I shift my hips slowly to try to get more comfortable. Jungkook’s swift inhale tells me that my move wasn’t as low-key as I had hoped.

“Noona, stop moving,” He mumbles into my hair, his arms firmly circling my waist.

“Sorry, baby,” I mutter back to him, trying hard to reign in my thirst.

The boys finally decide to watch Die Hard. Minutes tick by as the movie I’ve seen multiple times before plays on the screen. I’m only half paying attention, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook isn’t paying attention at all.

His fingers have shifted under my tank top and are drawing patterns onto the skin of my stomach. “So soft,” He marvels, his words ghosting across the skin of my neck.

The effect the boy has on me is deadly, and I retaliate with one of the only ways I can. I grind my hips slowly down onto his. The heat of his body warms my own, the hardness of his cock becoming more and more apparent underneath me.

“Noona,” Jungkook moans, “You’re so unfair.”

I whisper back, “You started it.”

He scoffs, moving my hair to one side of my neck, and pauses. “Oh, what’s this?”

“Don’t even think—”

His lips descend onto my neck, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Insolent child,” I breathe out, trying to keep my shit together despite finding it so fucking hot that Jungkook’s mouth is where Joon’s had been just over an hour ago.

Keeping my eyes firmly on the screen where John McClane is steadily taking down a whole crime organization singlehandedly, I try in vain not to imagine getting double teamed by Jungkook and Namjoon. By the time the credits roll, my panties are a mess. I can feel Jungkook practically throbbing underneath me from being so hard, and I’m pretty sure my nipples could cut through glass.

“What’d you think, (y/n)?” Hobi beams over at me from the other end of the couch.

I plaster a smile on my face like I hadn’t just been imagining the whole room naked and engaged in NSFW activities. “It was iconic as always!”

The boys seem to happily accept my answer. Well, most of them do. Yoongi is staring at me with a suspicious expression. Damn, that boy is too observant for his own good.

“Well,” I decide to try to regain some semblance of self-control, “Where did I put my keys?”

“WHAT!”

“You can’t leave! It’s only 9pm!”

“You said you would would stay overnight!”

I roll my eyes upwards, at least this provided Jungkook an opportunity to tug a pillow onto his lap. “I’m going to get my bag from the car, you fools.”

The boys let out a collectively sheepish “Ah”.

“I’ll walk you, noona,” Jimin stands, making his way over to my side.

“Trying to butter me up, baby?” I can’t help but ruffle his hair, “Okay, come on.”

Jimin and I make our way to the front door where my keys lie on the entryway table. Grabbing them, I head out into the darkness of the front yard with Jimin trailing after me.

“Will you sit with me for the next movie, noona?” Jimin asks, running a hand through his hair as we trek towards my parked Jeep.

“What’s in it for me?” I joke, unlocking the passenger side door and grabbing my bag. Turning back towards the house, I shut and lock my car behind me.

“Cuddles?” Jimin answers, eyes wide and bottom lip poked out.

“Stop that,” I moan, moving swiftly past him, “Puppy-Dog eyes? That’s so unfair!”

“Is it working?” He races to keep up with me, “I think its working.”

“You’re still on my shit list, Park Jimin,” I whirl around, drop my bag to the ground, and grab the front of his shirt. Moving to a standstill with his lips an inch from mine, I say, “Or did you forget?”

Jimin gulps, his eyes dark, “I didn’t forget. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

I place the lightest kiss to his lips, “Good answer.” With that, I pick my bag back up and waltz back into the house. “Are you coming?” I call at the boy still standing in the middle of the front yard.

“Now I know why Kook says you’re mean,” Jimin shakes his head at me as he regains the will to move.

“You’re a fast learner,” I comment, placing my keys back onto the entryway table. “I’ll sit with you.”

“Yay!” Jimin cheers, “I’ll go tell Taehyungie!”

“What?” I screech after the boy’s departing form, “I didn’t know this was some sort of package deal! Lord give me strength…”

Rifling through my bag to double check I have everything, I notice that I seem to be lacking a sleep shirt. How is it that I could pack three different pairs of socks for one night over but forget a fucking shirt?

“SOS,” I call out, zipping my bag back up. Once again, the sound of stampeding steps is heard before the seven of them appear above me.

“Someone needs to give me their biggest and comfiest t-shirt.”

A brief pause permeates the room before all seven boys dart into action. Left all alone in the entryway, I let out an incredulous laugh at how completely whipped I’m becoming for them.

After a few minutes, I hear them congregating in the hall just up the stairs. Just as I’m about to go investigate, they shuffle down. Namjoon presents me with a pile of what must be a selection of t-shirts from the bunch.

“We all want you to wear our clothes, so we decided to make it fair and just let you pick one without knowing who’s it is,” Seokjin explains.

Looking around the room, I can tell they all think this is a magnificent idea. Meanwhile, I’m baffled why they think I wouldn’t know who’s shirt is who’s just from the style, size, and smell. However, I decide to be a nice girl and play along.

“Okay,” I grab the entire pile along with my bag, “I’ll go change.”

“I’m so excited!” Taehyung bounces up and down, “She’s going to pick mine. I know it!”

“That’s because you gave her your Ce—” As Taehyung tackles Jimin to the floor, I take that as my cue to leave.

Speeding up the steps, I make a beeline for Yoongi’s room, entering and locking the door behind me. My bag is tossed on the bed first followed by the sea of mostly black and white clothing. They know me so well already.

I examine my options:

A white Balenciaga t-shirt with “Europe 2018” embroidered in red over the heart,

A soft pink hoodie by Marques’ Almeida with long black silky drawstrings,

A red and black striped Raf Simons long-sleeved shirt with sewn-on patches,

A Fear of God white t-shirt with the iconic “FG” on the front,

A black Mastermind t-shirt with the brandname and a skull and crossbones emblazoned on it,

A black Celine t-shirt also with the brandname on the front, and

A grey long-sleeved t-shirt by Carhartt with the name in blue along the sleeve.

Making my selection, I shake my head over the careless nature these boys handle their extremely expensive clothing. I am almost certain that Jungkook had given me the only shirt of the bunch that was under $100.

Regardless, I fold the rest of the shirts before stuffing them into my duffle bag. If they all want me to wear their clothes, I will - eventually. Quickly, I change into my sleep shorts, tug on what I assume is Hobi’s shirt, and head out of Yoongi’s room.

Opening the door, I blink as seven expectant faces shine back at me. Six expressions fall as one lights up even more. “You chose mine!” Hoseok cheers, running to engulf me in a hug that sweeps me off my feet, “Oh, you look so cute!”

“Can’t. Breathe.”

“Why’d you leave your stuff in Yoongi-hyung’s room, noona?” Taehyung pouts as the rest of the boys try to pretend like they also aren’t miffed.

“Because I’m going to sleep with him?” I march over to Yoongi and hug him from behind, pressing my lips to his cheek. “Is that okay with you, Yoongs?”

The boy grumbles under my show of affection, but his hands come up to clasp over mine as they circle his waist. “I can live with that, I guess.” The eye roll accompanying his words is so evident even when standing behind him.

“You’ll pay for that, baby boy,” I whisper in his ear before biting gently down on his earlobe, reveling in the cute little squeak that emits from him in response.

“She’s still sitting with me and Tae during the next movie, though!” Jimin - ever the instigator - interjects as the group makes their way back downstairs. Yoongi and I shuffle behind them.

The eight of us decide to watch The Hangover next since that had been the runner-up before. Once again, I’m draped between Jimin and Taehyung. This time, I’m fully placed on Jimin’s lap while my legs are sprawled out across Tae’s thighs.

My legs had barely even settled onto his lap before his hands were on them. This time I don’t even pretend like I’m paying attention to the movie. I’m more entranced by the way Taehyung kneads his way up my legs from my ankles to my calves to the insides of my thighs.

Meanwhile, Jimin is snuggled into me tightly. His face is shoved into the crook of my neck, and I honestly think he might be sound asleep. With each breath, Jimin’s pillowy lips brush my collarbone. I couldn’t tell if this is my own personal heaven or hell.

Looking up, I meet the dark gaze of Min Yoongi once again. Neither of us break eye contact as I try to read the look on his face and his body language.

He is either: 1) pissed off by something I did, 2) turned on by something I did, or 3) all of the above.

My hunch is the third. Testing that theory, I slide my tongue across my bottom lip. Sure enough, his eyes track the motion instantly before returning to mine. Bing-pot.

The movies seems to take way longer than it’s hour and forty-something minutes. I blame the combination of my sexual frustration and the varying degrees of awareness of it from the boys.

As soon as the credits roll, I extract myself from the holds that Jimin and Tae had on me. “I’m tired,” I lie.

“Aw,” Seokjin hurries over to me and sweeps me into a tight hug, “Get some beauty sleep, darling. Because, in the morning, I’m making pancakes!”

I place a swift kiss to his cheek, “Sounds perfect.”

I bid the rest of the boys goodnight with similar affections. Slowly, I make my way over to the stairs, knowing that Yoongi is trailing after me closely.

Making sure to put an extra swing in my hips, I climb up the staircase like I was getting paid to do it. Finally, I enter Yoongi’s room, turn to face the boy it belonged to, and tug him inside.

“What the fuck, Min Yoongi,” I hiss before closing the door behind him and shoving him against it.

“What?”

He has the audacity— I take a calming breath.

“You eye-fuck me throughout the entire movie and ask me ‘what’?” My hands curl into the fabric of his shirt.

A small smile makes its way across Yoongi’s face as my glower intensifies, “You can’t expect me not to think about that after you announce to everyone that you’re sleeping with me.”

“I didn’t mean literally, you buffoon,” I groan, turning away to head towards the bed.

Yoongi grabs my hips, halting me in place. “I know. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about what it would be like with you. What it would be like to be selfish with you.”

“You want to be selfish with me?” I ask softly, “What does that mean?”

“It means that I know that Tae was the first to get your mouth, but I want to be the first to give you mine.”

Yoongi’s words steal the breath from my lungs and the chill from my very soul. I gasp out, “You want to taste me, baby? That’s what you want?”

“More than anything,” Yoongi groans, pushing his hips into mine. “Please, (y/n), I’ll do anything to put my mouth on you.”

I pull away from Yoongi so that I can face him. His pupils are blown out, his hair is messy, and his expression is devastating with its pleading look. After being teased by so many of the others for the whole evening, he looks like my salvation.

“Okay,” I nod, lying down with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed. “Do your worst. No, not the time for that expression. Do your best. Please.”

Chuckling, Yoongi sinks to his knees before me, running his hands up my legs and resting on the hem of my shorts. He sends me an asking look, and I nod. His fingers shake slightly as he pulls off my shorts.

Left in nothing but pair of lacy red boy-briefs, I shiver in anticipation as I feel Yoongi slip a tentative finger underneath the remaining material.

“Fuck,” He groans, sliding his finger up and down my folds, “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

“Well, do something about it,” I command, moving my hips up so that he might get the hint to take of my underwear. His finger slides out from underneath them and he doesn’t even hesitate before sucking it into his mouth.

“Yoongi,” I hiss, getting more and more impatient.

Yoongi pulls his finger out of his mouth, “Sorry, (y/n), I just want to savor this moment.”

“You can savor my pussy with your mouth,” I say, “Or are you all talk, Min Yo—”

Quicker than I can comprehend, Yoongi slides my panties to the side and licks a stripe up my folds. I moan as he sucks and licks at my pussy like a man possessed.

“Fuck,” I grab his hair and tug him closer, feeling him moan into me.

The build up of tension and frustration from being surrounded by these boys for the entire day has me on the brink of orgasm already.

Yoongi’s mouth closes over my clit, circling it with his tongue and flicking it slowly.

“More, Yoongi,” I demand.

He listens. Still worshipping my clit, Yoongi slips a finger inside me, curling it in such a practiced way I could scream.

He adds a second. Yoongi’s fingers thrust in and out of me as his tongue continues to taste and tease my pussy.

When he hits a certain spot in me, I moan his name, and I swear he growls. Repeatedly, his fingers hit that same spot inside me and I’m panting, trying my hardest not to come. Not yet.

“Harder!” I moan. Again, Yoongi follows like a good boy, his fingers and tongue picking up the pace.

Pausing to pull my legs over his shoulders, Yoongi meets my eyes. The pinkness of his lips glisten with my juices as he sighs, “I think you might be my new favorite meal.”

Before I can even respond, his resumes wrecking me. He fucks me with his fingers, grabbing at my ass with his free hand.

His mouth devours my pussy, wreaking havoc on my clit with every flick of his tongue.

My thighs quake as my battle to hold off coming becomes too much to endure. My back arches as the pleasure builds up with each quick stroke of his tongue and every movement of his fingers.

As if he knows exactly how to ruin me forever, Yoongi sucks on my clit harshly, and I come, my thighs trapping him between them. Despite it all, Yoongi continues to fuck me, lapping up everything like a starving man.

Soon, the overstimulation hits and I relax my thighs. Pulling his hair, I murmur, “Stop.”

Yoongi obeys.

“Come here,” I sit up, extending an arm out to him. He shuffles forward and when he is within reach I launch myself at him. Kissing him fiercely, I taste myself on his tongue.

“That was so good, baby,” I reach my hand up to stroke his flushed cheek. “Do you want me to help you out?”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head, “I would rather eat you out again.”

“You’re insatiable!” I cry, tugging out of his hold. “We’ll see…”

a/n: this chap got away from meeee AHHHHHH it’s the longest one yet uwu hope u enjoyed! :) also this is v unedited bc i wanted to post asap so keep that in mind hehe

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway​ @cage7241​ @cvbachacbitch @honeyspillings @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang @oii-f-eli-x2 @joonsroses @theevilyouknow @jooniescupcakes @expensive-grl @i-dont-even-know-fck @athletes-of-god​@doingmybestalltheftime @elraee @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh @laced-brds @breeeeh17 @peachyharmoney @rilakoya @chulchuchi @tabula-rasa0 @guccishookv @nomimits7 @i-like-puppy-mg @s-noir @anna-sorel @im-a-space-child @yeontanismypresident @drowning-in-oxygen @team-wang-puppy @lvvegood @anongirl007 @may114 @r-e-d-i-s-h @unatempesta-dipensieri @dragon-rider-with-a-book @blueberrygeniejam @wondrsblog @vi-hoshi @kirbykook @katemwatson @kawaiikpoplover268 @amsteramyy @sami4life @a-feeling-of-euphoria @the-jackals @bubbletae7 @platinum-grenade @bunnyboyenthusiast @brightly-byun @oofmeintheheadpls @sadboibts @lidda @goldenwidow3 @t-mel19 @lmkjimin @psiphidragon @jeon-joker @sathom013 @lustremyg @ggsmashgg @justyouraveragerando @shadowstark @our-little-meow-meow @baby-hobii @mythicalmeep @asifetch7 @kassandravictoria @eltrain80 @briannasthings @bumblekey93 @ohmwreckr @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @softchimmee @kookoo-kachoo @lenuminous @ass-hole-in-one @peaches-422 @spacejooon @sleepyje0n @uxwi @tellmeyoulovemepls @yady24 @lovesick-heart0 @redirect-min @hopetookourvibe @noonaduck  @mini-coop25 @multifandomgirl29 @rhd31 @yoongixvevo @sweetnspicy93 @kuppyjiminie @love-and-other-possibilities @fuckyouandtheboatyoucamein @geminidrawsstuff @livorna @naajix @minjoonhome @subtlepjiminie @mono-kookie @purpleheartsfortae @krystle1990 @jungkooks-nut-is-tasty-in-busan @sky-the-squirrel @jinyounglovebot @vivpurple7 @xcastielbabyangelface @patpus @daydreamingwithbts 

a/n: if u asked to be added to the taglist and u did not get tagged, u might be one of the couple ppl that i couldn’t tag [check ur settings, fam!]